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Chapter Text

Asmodeus leaned back in his office chair, staring out onto the Lust Ring. The distant neon lights below were distorted through the rain slicked glass, bleeding into brightly coloured smudges. It had been a fucking long day. There had been far too much paperwork and a distinct of a certain beloved imp of his. Ever since he’d halted production of Robo Fizz’s, the pressure had been on to find a new big earner. Work in the factory had been going less than smoothly (the vibrators were still exploding) which meant long days on the production floor and even longer nights pouring over prototype proposals.

Normally he had Fizz to keep him company on evenings like this, but the imp had been spending some time crashing in Pride with Blitzø with surprising regularity. Apparently they were catching up on ten years of bonding, or something like that. His Fizzie-frog had been telling him the other evening that he was apparently an uncle to a snarky hellhound. Fizz had been so delighted at the idea of an extended family that Ozzie had resolved right then to introduce the imp to his own niece sometime soon.

Charlie might not strictly be his niece by blood, but that hardly mattered. After the Fall, Lucifer, Lilith and the newly dubbed Sins had drawn close, united by the pain of Heaven’s betrayal. Family was more than blood, and while they might have their differences, they were family, without a doubt. Even fucking Mammon, bastard jester wannabe though he might be.

When Lucifer and Lilith had announced they were having a baby, the Sins had all rallied to spoil Charlie rotten in their own unique fashions. None of the Sins had children, and despite their differences they’d all adored the new addition to their family. It had been the one thing they’d all been able to agree on in a long time...

Beneath the piles of paperwork on his desk, Asmodeus’ phone buzzed with an incoming text. The vibrations caused a precariously stacked pile to sway. Swearing, the Sin hastily stabilised it before it could topple, wishing the Fizz was hear to lend a helping hand. That or maybe he should hire Stolas to deal with it – the goetia had certainly seemed to love paperwork an unhealthy amount.

Stack stabilised, he riffled through the loose papers until he located his phone, swiping absently at the screen. When he saw the notification on the screen though, he let out a low whistle.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear,” he muttered with a smile, at the notification of message from none other than Charlie herself.

Opening up his messages, he saw the message from Charlie was short, but contained her usual abuse of exclamation marks -

What was unusual however was the pulsating dots that indicated she was typing. When Charlie sent a text, it was never just one message but a barrage of texts, one after the other at high speed. He couldn’t recall the last time that she’d sent a message and just paused like that.

Brows furrowed, he sent off a quick reply.

The dots continued to pulse and he frowned, swiping back through their previous messages for a clue. The last time he’d heard from her was a few weeks back when the story had broken about him and Fizz after the clusterfuck in Greed. She’d asked if he was okay, told him that she’d love to meet Fizz and that maybe he could meet her girlfriend. He winced – he’d meant to reply but he left her on read with all the chaos that had been going on.

Flicking back even further, he realised with increasingly guilt how intermittent their messages had been over the last few years. Ever since Lucifer and Lilith had spilt (and he’d seen the writing on the wall in regards to that particular development for a long time) Charlie had been distant from the family, obsessed with that passion project of hers about redeeming Sinners.

It was an absolute pipe dream, but he couldn’t blame her for needing a distraction. She’d posed the idea of a hotel to redeem at a family dinner a couple of years back, but none of them had really paid it much mind. However now he vaguely remembered liking a Sinstagram post of her posed in front of Lucy’s old hotel a few months back alongside a gray-haired girl (the girlfriend?).

His phone buzzed, and then buzzed several more times in rapid succession.

Asmodeus stared at the wall of text, blinking as he tried to take in the barrage of information on the small screen.

The Sin winced. He’d never met Valentino, but he’d heard things. He might not pay much attention to sinners, but the moth sinner had certainly made a name for himself peddling porn in the Pride Ring. As the embodiment of Lust it was his job to keep an eye on these types of things. The productions that came out of V Porn Studio were of excellent quality, but the lust they showed had an acrid tinge of coercion that had made his stomach churn when he’d watched them. That sinner Angel Dust was talented, but he’d bet anything that the overlord had him on a leash.

Ozzie groaned. Of all the things his niece could have done...

The Sin paused. Charlie might seem naive on the surface, but she’d grown up in Hell and had a surprisingly thick skin. Creepy was the default setting for basically every demon in this place. For Charlie to say that the overlord was creepy, he must have pulled something especially heinous.

The phone clattered to the desk as Asmodeus’ flames suddenly flared in pure rage. That rancid overlord had LICKED Charlie?! The fucking NERVE of the flea bitten moth sinner. There was technically nothing wrong with offering Charlie sex work (though it was in poor taste), but to fucking lick his niece? Absolutely NOT. A growl echoed through the room as he seethed.

“Ozzie, babe? You alright?” called a voice from the door. He blinked, the rage subsiding a bit as he recognised Fizz’s voice. Then he glanced down at his desk and swore as he noticed some of the papers had begun to smoulder at edges. He patted at them frantically until all that remained with a wisp of smoke curling from the edges.

“Oh hey Fizzy-frog, didn’t expect to see ya back from Pride this soon,” he called, and a moment later Fizz was curled around his shoulders, forehead pressed to his.

“Catching up with Blitzø, but the guy is so deep in denial over the bird boy of his, it’s honestly tragic,” the imp replied, snuggling into the Sun’s fluff. “Now tell me what’s got you all worked up. Is it Mammon?”

The Sin took a deep breath, sighing. “Nah, I just lost my temper for a moment. I was talking to Charlie and she was telling me about some problems she’s been having and an encounter she had with that porn moth overlord up in Pride,” he said, gesturing to his phone.

“Yeesh,” the imp replied, even as one robotic snaked down to the phone and he proceeded to rapidly scroll back through the conversation. As Ozzie watched, Fizz’s eyes widened and a look of disgust appeared on his face.

“Satan’s ball Oz, this is messed up. You gonna do anything?”

“I don’t know what to do Fizz. I don’t like anything happening to Charlie but it’s Pride. It’s not my domain.”

“Sure, but sounds like this sinner is giving Lust a bad name, and it sounds like your niece could do with some family support right now. Doesn’t seem like her dear old dad is going to swoop in to save the day from what you’ve told me,” Fizz replied.

Ozzie considered this. Fizz was right. Lucy had been doing a shit job of parenting Charlie for decades, and out of everyone in the family Charlie had come to him for help. Just because there were limits of what he could do outside Lust didn’t mean he was entirely powerless...

Picking up his phone, he typed out a reply with Fizz reading over his shoulder, and received an almost instant reply.

A smile tugged at the Sin’s mouth as he turned to look at Fizz.

“Looks like we’re making a trip to Pride.”

Chapter Text

Ozzie’s Tower - Lust Ring

Asmodeus reclined into the pillowy softness of his bed, idly scrolling on his phone. In the background he could hear Fizz moving around the room in a whirlwind of activity. Ever since they’d decided to pay Charlie a visit, the imp had been packing and repacking their suitcases, in amongst rescheduling all of Ozzie’s meeting. 

He absentmindedly liked a recent post of Beezlebub’s (the Sin and her boyfriend reclining in a hot tub with a goth-looking hellhound who seemed oddly familiar). Speaking of Bee, Oz swiped open his last conversation with her from the day before.

The conversation had cemented his suspicion that Charlie had been far too isolated of late. It would be nice if Bee could make time to come up to see Charlie. The other Sin tended to be easily distracted by the whirlwind of parties she hosted, but she’d always been a good aunt. Lucifer on the other hand wasn’t going to win parent of the year anytime soon…

He’d sent the message to Lucifer two days ago, and while the message had been seen, there had been a distinct lack of response. Knowing Lucifer, he’d seen the message, spent two hours agonising over a response, and then promptly forgot about it in favour of making another fucking rubber duck. The last time Asomdeus had been at the palace, they’d been small mountains of them flowing out of every room, and that was a year ago. He had to admit that he was worried the depressed bastard would end up suffocated under a heap of them one day if he kept it up.

“Ozzie, which of these hats should I pack?” Fizz called out.

Glancing up from the phone, he could see Fizz crouched beside an abnormally large suitcase, a small mountain of clothes spread out around him and two almost identical jester hats clutched in his hands. It was almost cute, if it wasn’t so concerning.

“Fizzy frog, you know that we can always portal back if we need more clothes right? We don’t need to pack everything.”

His boyfriend winced, clutching tighter onto the hats. “I know, it's just…I want to make a good impression, Oz. You adore her and what if she doesn’t like me…”

Without another word he crossed the room in three long strides and swooped the imp up in his arms, pressing their foreheads together. “Is that what’s gotten you so worked up? Meeting Charlie?”

“I know, I know, it’s stupid. It’s just that she’s important to you, and I’m just me..”

“And that’s why she’ll love you,” he replied firmly, pressing their foreheads together firmly, “you’re family, and she’s been dying to meet you for years.”

“What, years? But we only went public a couple of months back?”

“You think that stopped her from figuring it out? It’s part of the reason I didn’t introduce you earlier - she’s incapable of being subtle and I didn’t want to blow our cover,” he laughed.

Fizz joined in, their voices a duet of raspy chuckles and his own deeper rumbles of laughter. Ozzie felt the imp slowly relax, and then placed him gently down.

“How about I help you with the rest of the packing?” he offered.

Hazbin Hotel , Pentagram City - Pride Ring

For the majority of Hell's residents, the public lifts were the only way to travel between rings. Thankfully for the two of them, magic made things a bit simpler. With a simple snap of the fingers, a portal opened in their bedroom, and with a single step they had gone from the Lust Ring to the Pride Ring.

The dry heat and unpleasantly red glare of the Pride Ring hit them both like a sucker punch After the temperate weather and soft mood lighting of Lust, both he and Fizz were less than thrilled, each of them slipping on sunglasses with unified expressions of distaste. He’d had a rough idea of where Charlie’s hotel was,and the portal had let them out at the base of a hill in front of an imposing pair of cast iron gates.They both slowly looked up at the building at the top of the hill, the quieves milled around both their feet in excitement.

From his spot wrapped around his shoulders, Fizz whistled and stared at the building with a look of bemusement. "It's certainly... interesting?" he muttered.

Interesting was one word for it, thought Ozzie. The hotel looked like a carnival had thrown up on it and then been left to rot. The whole place was dominated by the reds and golds that both Lucifer and the Pride Ring favoured (Ozzie hated Pride's colour scheme, he clashed horribly). If that wasn't bad enough, it looked like several other structures including a ship and a radio tower had just been grafted on with no concern for mortal concerns like physics. To say nothing of the giant steampunk blimp floating off to one side.

His eyes lingered on the radio tower with its currently unilluminated ‘On Air’ sign. A frisson of recognition niggled at the back of his mind but was quickly dismissed. Just because there was one particular sinner associated with radio broadcasts in the Pride Ring didn't mean that this had anything to do with that. Although, Charlie had mentioned a sponsor... 

Shrugging the thought off, he started striding up the hill towards the hotel, Fizz wrapped like a scarf around his neck, the leashes to quieves grasped in one hand and their bags floating behind. As he walked, he could swear that he saw VoxTech drones hovering high above, blue lenses pointed towards him. 

They had almost made it to the front door when it flew open and a blur of red and blonde sprinted towards him. He only had a moment to brace himself before his niece flung herself into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Around his neck Fizz yelped in surprise, digging his claws into Ozzie’s shoulders uncomfortably. While he usually enjoyed those claws, now was not the time for them.

“Hey Char-bear,” he said warmly, wrapping his arms around her in return.

Face still pressed his torso, Charlie tightened her hug, and tried to reply. However it was too muffled to make out more than a mumble against the fabric of his coat.

Laughing he squeezed her gently, before gently taking her by the shoulders and pulling her away. “How about we try that one more time,” he said.

“Hey Uncle Ozzie,” she replied, looking up at him with eyes alight with warmth. Then they widened as she noticed Fizz around his shoulders. “Oh my gosh!!!” she said, reaching up and grabbing one of Fizz’s hands to shake enthusiastically, “You must be Fizz! I am SO excited to meet you, Ozzie has been talking about you for years and I KNEW the two of you were together no matter what he said.” 

Ozzie felt Fizz tense for a moment, and then with a stretch of limbs his partner was standing beside him, his best performance smile on his face. “Yup that’s me, the amazing FizzaRolli. Honoured to meet you princess,” he replied, planting a kiss on Charlie’s hand.

“Oh no no no, it’s Charlie! You’re family, family doesn’t call each other by titles,” she said and pulled Fizz into a firm hug.

Ozzie chuckled at the exchange, even as he eyed the entrance to the hotel with interest. He could swear that he’d caught a few figures peering out the doorway until they’d noticed his gaze and ducked away. “Hey Charlie, how about you introduce us to the rest of your friends?”

As Charlie beamed and led them into the hotel, the Sin could have sworn that he saw thoseVoxTech drones swooping lower, whirring through the air just above them.

Meanwhile in V Tower, Pentagram City - Pride Ring:

Vox mentally searched through the drone feeds around the Hazbin Hotel, sipping from a cup of coffee. The couch he was sitting on was bright red, as was Val’s taste, and he had his  legs draped over Val’s lap as the moth overlord sipped from his own mug. It was rare that the two of them had a lazy morning to themselves, and rarer still that they were both in such a relaxed mood. He honestly wasn’t even expecting to find anything on the feed - the hotel had been boring the last few weeks and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of fucking Alastor. So he definitely wasn’t prepared to see a goddamn portal open in front of the hotel without warning. 

Eyes widening he transmitted a command for his drones to fly closer, and nearly choked when he saw who was stepping out of it. Fucking Asmodeus himself, what the absolute fuck. The imp was with him as well, the one that Val had a weird femme robot maid of. Fitzroy? Fillzori? Fizzette? Who the fuck knew. He stayed frozen and unblinking as he watched the Sin walk up the hill, only for the princess of hell to fling herself at him and drag Asmodeus and his robo boy toy into the hotel.

“What the fuck is up with you Voxxy? Did you glitch?” asked Val, poking him in the leg having noticed his unusual stillness.

Vox felt a shit eating grin spread across his face, electronic teeth bared. Val was going to hate this. It was going to be absolutely hilarious. "Val, you'll never guess who is hanging around that hotel.”

Valentino leaned back on the sofa, clouds of pungent smoke billowing out around them both in an obnoxious cloud, cigarette holder in one hand. Vox hated the smoke but at least it didn’t affect him. “Hmmmmmm, let me guess, the Radio Demon again?"

The sound of a buzzer. "Guess again."

"I don't know then, one of his minions.”

The buzzer again. "Nope."

Valentino huffed out another cloud of smoke. "Oh come on Vox babe, just tell me. This guessing game isn't cute."

Vox paused, watching as Val took another drag. "Asmodeus. Oh and his little robo imp as well.”

He’d timed it perfectly. Val choked on the smoke, spluttered and bent over, hacking in a decidedly unsexy display. Vox watched with amusement, mentally filing the room's video feed into a folder in the cloud named 'Fuck you Val (funny videos)'. 

Eventually, the moth overlord gained enough composure to straighten up and glare at him. "Oh good one Vox. How long did you spend dreaming that one up just because I didn't tell you immediately about Alastor," he said, "like fuck the embodiment of Lust would ever slum it in that ramshackle whorehouse."

Vox smirked, and gestured to the screens on the corner, all of which suddenly flashed on to show the recording he’d taken, Asmodeus and the imp front and centre. Val squinted through his heart-shaped glasses, then craned his head forward. He chucked under his breath at the familiar sight. Goddamn Val, blind as a fucking bat. It would almost be cute, if it wasn’t so pathetic. Literally all he needed to do was get a prescription for those glasses and he’d be fine, but noooo, that wasn’t sexy. As though squinting at everything was.

The squinting clearly wasn’t cutting it in this case, because Val stood up, cursing under his breath and crossed the room to peer at the screens. Vox knew the moment Val recognised the figures on screen, because  he made a strange sound that was in no way human. Vox honestly had no idea how the fuck he was making it, but it was possibly the best thing he’d heard all year. It was a high pitched squeak of a sound, increasing in volume and urgency as the moth demon practically pushed his face against the screen, all  his hands grasping the edge of it in a death grip. 

Vox fought the urge to laugh, and directed the video feed into a folder labelled 'Val Blackmail'. He'd known that Val had a thing when it came to Asmodeus (he’d seen the body pillow and the merchandise that his partner had stashed in a closet), but his reaction was still something else. Sure this was all likely to end in blood, tears and possibly a broken screen for him, but hey, he had to get his kicks in while he could. 

Valentino suddenly pulled away from the screen and swooped over to his phone where it lay abandoned on the couch. Within moments he was engaged in a frantic burst of texting, phone pinging as he sent messages in a flurry. With barely a thought, Vox followed his electrical connection to the phone to observe the messages Val was sending.

The messages kept going along that line. Deep in the recesses of his brain, Vox began to wonder if this was what he sounded like when Alastor was mentioned. That thought was immediately wrapped in chains, placed in a locked box and shoved into the deepest recesses of his mind. Best not to think about it.

Valentino meanwhile had lost his patience and the phone was flung through the air. Vox ducked out of the way as it came dangerously close to hitting his screen. He knew from experience that prying a phone from the shattered remains of his face was excruciating. Val had done it twice already and he wasn't keen for another repeat.

"Are you seriously throwing a tantrum right now?" he asked. A glass went flying through the air, smashing on the wall behind him. Obviously he was. Moments later the entire coffee table followed suit. Fucking Val. The moth demon was a fucking child in the body of a sexed up horny moth.

"Okay then. I'm just going to leave you here to work through your feelings," more furniture went flying, “just don't leave the tower," another crash, "or rip apart any more of Velvet’s models." More crashes, wood and glass splintering. Great, now he was going to have to pay someone to remodel the whole penthouse, just fucking great. Still worth it though.

He got a final glimpse of Val standing amongst shattered furniture, eyeing him like a particularly tasty snack, before he bid a hasty retreat through the electrical pathways of the tower. Retreating to his own screen filled studio, he sent a tower-wide alert to evacuate the three floors below the penthouse. While he didn't particularly care for their employees, dismembered staff meant a drop in productivity and more importantly, profits.

Back at the Hazbin Hotel, Pentagram City - Pride Ring

The hotel was a dump. 

It was clear that Charlie had been trying her best, but nothing they’d done could disguise the dark stains on the carpet, the peeling wallpaper, and the general funk of a building left for decades to moulder. Ozzie vaguely remembered this place now, from the time before Charlie was born and Lucifer and Lilith had been more prone to socialising and inviting guests from across the Rings. Those days were long gone, just like Lucifer and Lilith’s marriage (though Lucy was still in denial about that last part). The bar in the corner was new though, the decor jarring against the reds and golds of the room.

The decorations were also new. As he took in the colourful bunting that had been strung up, the balloons in the corners, and the banner that read ‘Welcome Your Sinliness (and FizzaRolli)’, he couldn’t help but be touched by the effort Charlie and her friends had made. Beside him, he felt Fizz press tighter to him, tail coiling around his leg. He wrapped an arm around his boyfriend, pulling him close and he surveyed the nervous expression of the gathered sinners before them.

Rushing forward, Charlie dragged a girl with long grey hair and a nervous expression forward. “This is Vaggie, my girlfriend,” she said. 

“Pleasure to meet you Vaggie,” he replied with a smile, and Fizz echoed the greeting. 

“It’s an honour to meet you both,” she said, voice tight with obvious nerves, “Charlie talks about you a lot.”

Crouching, Ozzie leaned forward and pulled her into a hug. “I could say the same. It’s wonderful to meet the person who’s been looking after Charlie these last three years.” 

There was a strange tingle as he made skin contact with Vaggie, something that made his feathers ruffle slightly in shock even as he pulled back, smile fixed in place. Glancing down at Vaggie, his  mind was raced as he looked Charlie’s girlfriend over again.  X over her eye, the obviously angelic spear in her hand, that feeling… There was something off about Vaggie, she didn’t feel like a sinner, but she didn’t read his senses as hellborn either. It was almost as if -

He didn’t have a chance to finish the thought, because Charlie already dragging him and Fizz over to a pair of sinners standing awkwardly further back in the lobby - a victorian-looking snake demon and a spider demon who he definitely recognised. The spider demon was staring at his phone with a pinched, unhappy look, but he straightened to give a wide grin as they approached.

“This is Sir Pentious and Angel Dust, our guests!” Charlie announced.

“Your Sinfulness, sir!” the snake demon shouted, saluting.

“Hello Big Daddy,” the spider sinner purred, “and the original Robo Fizz as well! My lucky day.”

Fizz and Ozzie exchanged quick, delighted grins.

“Pleasure to meet you Angel Dust,” Ozzie said, taking one of Angel's hands in his own to shake, even as Fizz extended his way over to stand beside the sinner, “may I just say how much of a shame it is that Lucifer’s ban on sinners travelling has robbed the Lust Ring of your presence.”

“You’d make an absolute killing at Ozzie’s,” Fizz chimed in.

Ozzie saw a microexpression of shock cross the sinner’s face before he rallied and leaned forward with a sultry expression. “It's a cryin’ shame for sure, but I guess you’ll just have to enjoy my presence during your visit,” he said, slinging an arm around Fizz’s shoulder even as he reeled Ozzie in by the hand. “Ya know, I don’t usually perform for free, but I could be convinced to give the two of ya a private show if’n ya know what I mean.” 

Before either of them could reply, Charlie inserted herself between the two of them, a slightly manic gleam in her eyes. “Angel don’t hog my uncles, I haven’t even introduced them to Husk and Niffty yet!” she said, taking both himself and Fizz by the hands and dragging them across the room. 

Fizz stared up at Ozzie wide eyed mouthing ‘uncles’, and Ozzie just shrugged. When Charlie decided you were family, that was that.

When they were a few metres away, Charlie reached up and pulled his face down to her level, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Umm, Uncle Ozzie and Fizz, please don’t sleep with any of my friends while you’re here,” she begged ihem in a low tone.

He frowned, and met his niece’s eyes with a frank expression. “Charlie, I love you but I’m not going to promise that,” he replied, shaking his head. “I can say that I’ll try not to make things awkward, but I am who I am and I won’t be ashamed about that.”

“We’re all adults here, and there’s nothing wrong with having some good old fashioned fun,” added Fizz.

Charlie looked between then, brows creased into a small frown, before glancing at Fizz. “And you’re alright with that?” she asked. 

“Princess, you ever heard of an open relationship? Just because Oz and I love each other doesn't mean we own each other,” he replied, tail wrapping around Ozzie’s leg again, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Monogamy is fine if that’s what you’re into,” Ozzie added, glancing across the room where Vaggie was watching with a knowing glance, “but it doesn’t mean that’s everyone's thing.”

Charlie continued to frown for another long moment before nodding sharply in understanding. She took a deep breath, and Ozzie watched with pride as she put her smile back on. A few years back that exchange would have had her in tears. It seemed that whatever was happening in this hotel, it’d had a positive impact on her.

Smile in place, Charlie continued dragging them across the room to the odd looking bar.

“This is Husk, our bartender,” she said, gesturing at a grumpy looking cat demon polishing the bar who could not be more gambling themed if he’d tried, “and Niffty, our housekeeper,” gesturing a small cyclops demon who was peering over the bar, practically vibrating.

The cyclops, Niffty, flung herself forward to clutch tightly at his mane, staring into his face with a terrifyingly wide eyed expression. “Hello! I’m Niffty. Are you a bad boy?”

It was one of the more awkward introductions he’d had, but being the embodiment of Lust meant weirdness didn’t phase him much. Everyone was a freak in their own way, and who was he to judge how they got their freak on. “I can be as bad as you want me to be,” he replied and chuckled as she swooned backwards.

 Fizz reached up and deposited her on the bartop, where she continued to gaze up at him with delight. Meanwhile Charlie had slumped down onto the same bartop, groaning in embarrassment. He patted her on the back comfortingly. “Sorry sweetheart, I promise I’ll try to keep the flirting with your friends to a minimum.”

She sat up, shaking her head. “It’s okay, really, it’s just how you are. But umm,” she said leaning forward, “maybe keep it to a minimum with Alastor, I’m not sure how he’d react to be honest.”

“Alastor?” he asked.

“He’s the patron I mentioned, and the hotel’s host,” she said, frowned, “I swore I just saw him around here somewhere.”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” rang up a voice behind him, laced so heavily with static that it barely sounded human. 

A shiver went down the Sin’s spine. Part of his nature as the embodiment of Lust was to read its currents in other people. He’d sensed a few different currents when he’d arrived in the hotel - the warm current of affectionate lust between Charlie and her girlfriend, the bright spark of interest of Angel Dust towards him and Fizz and his partner’s returned interest, and even a tentative current of something new and tender between the spider demon and the bartender. What he was feeling now was nothing like those currents at all. 

The thing most people forgot about Asmodeus, about Lust in general, was that it didn’t only apply to carnal desire. Lust is the craving for something, an intense desire, whether it be for sex, money, food…at the end of the day it was all the same. Just because he’d made the Lust Ring a place of sensuality and pleasure, didn’t mean he wasn’t just as attuned to other types of lust. 

Whoever was behind him radiated bloodlust to such a degree that it made him feel almost lightheaded from the surge, a roiling tide of hunger, intertwined with a desire for control, for power. It was a heady cocktail, and not one Ozzie had been expecting to encounter today.

Turning around, he wasn’t quite sure who (or what) he expected to see, but the lanky deer demon in a bright red suit wasn't it. On the surface he seemed so very unassuming, and yet he knew without a doubt that this sinner was the most dangerous person in the hotel barring himself and Charlie (not that his niece was aware of that). 

Charlie had moved from the bar and was now standing side by side with the deer sinner, who had placed a familiar hand on her shoulder even as eyed Ozzie with a sharp edged grin. Despite his appearance as a prey animal, the sinner read as predator and he didn’t like seeing the demon so close to his niece.

“Uncle Ozzie, Fizz, this is Alastor! He’s honestly been amazing - he’s helped so much with the hotel over the last few months,” Charlie said.

Alastor stepped forward, grabbing Ozzie’s hand in his much smaller one. “An absolute pleasure to meet you,” he exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously, “Charlie was ever so excited to have one of her family members show interest in her project at last.” The grin widened ever further, and Alastor’s hand was withdrawn. 

“Not to mention the fact that she was so very excited to meet the famous FizzaRolli,” he continued as  turned to look at Fizz, bending over to peer down at the imp with a shark toothed grin.

Ozzie felt Fizz’s tail tighten around his leg, but his boyfriend kept a straight face as he stared straight back into the face of one of the most notorious sinners the Pride Ring had ever produced. “And I didn’t know that I’d be meeting a celebrity today,” Fizz said, extending his own hand to take the sinner’s and shake it. There was a sharp spike of static and Fizz released his hand. “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow entertainer.”

“Oh you’ve heard of me then?” Alastor said, delighted.

“I think you’d have to live under a rock all the way down in Sloth not to have heard of the Radio Demon,” Fizz replied, “I grew up in the Greed Ring but we have radios down there just as much as Pride.”

“Oh delightful, I’m always thrilled to hear my reputation precedes me,” Alastor replied, straightening, “and what about you, your Sinfulness. Has my reputation made it to the Lust Ring as well?” At the mention of Lust the static flared again.

“I had a suspicion the moment I saw the radio tower,” he replied, “and how could I not have heard of the famous Radio Demon? Bloodlust might not be my usual wheelhouse these days,” he continued, sauntering towards the sinner and leaning down into his space with a smirk, “but it’s a form of lust nonetheless, and you radiate it.” 

With a piercing microphone reverberation of static, Alastor dissolved into shadow and reappeared with a high pitched laugh on the other side of the bar. “Oh I’m flattered, truly.” 

Charlie meanwhile was watching this exchange like one might watch a game of tennis played with a grenade: with extreme caution and a healthy dose of fear that it would explode in your face at any minute.

“Hey guys, why don’t I show our guests to their room so they can settle in?” she announced hurriedly, “Does that sound good to the two of you?”

“Sure thing sweetheart, lead away,” he replied easily, Fizz nodding his assent as well.

Together they started up the grand staircase, quieves in tow. The quieves, which to this point had been surprisingly well behaved, started yapping and buzzing excitedly and Fizz bent down to scope Precious up, the creature unable to make it up the stairs in her wheelchair.

It was only when Charlie had shown them to their room (a penthouse suite on the top floor) and left  that the pair finally relaxed. Ozzie flung himself down onto the bed, resolutely ignoring the alarming creak that caused. Fizz followed moments after, flopping down into his partner’s chest, the quieves snuggling around them in a chorus of buzzing.

“Holy fucking shit Oz,” Fizz groaned into his chest, “your niece is playing house with the fucking Radio Demon.”

“I have to admit, that was an unpleasant surprise,” he replied, “I hope for both their sakes that Charlie hasn’t been foolish enough to make any deals with him.”

“Because you’ll rip him to shreds if he has, right?” 

“Oh absolutely, even if it would make Charlie sad.”

“Good.”

Chapter Text

Breakfast in the Hazbin Hotel was apparently both communal and served bright and early. Ozzie and Fizz had learnt this fact when Charlie had started banging on their food at seven in the morning. At least she’d had the decency not to barge in - Fizz was already on edge and had slept with his hat firmly on, he didn’t need his privacy shattered by his new sort-of niece on the first morning into their stay.

Ozzie had initially burrowed into his pillowand groaned something about wanting to sleep, but Charlie’s knocking had been both loud and persistent. After some convincing from Fizz (the imp was entirety too much of a morning person himself) they’d stumbled out of their room, still in pajamas and robes (fuck getting dressed this early).

On the way to the kitchen, they watched as Charlie gathered the hotel residents on the way with a level of cheer that none of them seemed to appreciate. Angel Dust had looked especially put out by the early hour, but had still summoned the energy to wolf whistle when he saw them both. The sinner himself was dressed in a hot pink crop top and booty short combo, and got himself a wolf whistle from them both in return.

The only silver lining to the horror of this early morning wake up call was that the nearer they got to the dining room, the better it smelt. The air smelled of orange blossom and warm vanilla, a taste that had his mouth watering. He’d always had something of a sweet tooth.

“- and here’s the dining room!” Charlie announced with a broad sweep of her hand. It seemed that in acknowledgement of their rather limited number of guests, Charlie had adapted a room adjoining the hotel’s kitchen into an informal dining room. A large wooden table filled much of the room, with clear signs of use, set for ten.

The sound of soft jazz and someone humming along drifted from the door to the kitchen. Ozzie cocked his head. The two faces in his mane widened their eyes as they came to the same conclusion - the Radio Demon was cooking. He fought the urge to grimace. Who let the cannibal into the kitchen, he thought, followed shortly by, if he tries to serve me demon flesh I’m flipping this whole table.

Nonetheless he settled into a chair - Charlie had thoughtfully found him a larger one - alongside Fizz, watching as everyone settled themselves down with the thoughtlessness of long practice. Angel Dust flopped into the chair next to Fizz, while Charlie and Vaggie took seats beside him. Down the far end of the table the snake demon sat, sending him nervous glances. Apparently at least one of them was still nervous about having a Sin around. The bartender was also nearby, head in his paws and looking only a quarter awake at best.

The sound of static suddenly increased. “Ah excellent, we’re all gathered together at last,” rang out the deer demon’s voice as he appeared in the doorway with a flourish. “Niffty my dear, bring out the food!”

A moment later the small sinner appeared carrying more plates that Ozzie would have thought possible, the smell of orange and vanilla even stronger now. Within a couple of minutes everyone had a plate in front of them, and Alastor and Niffty had taken their own seats.

Breakfast seemed to be some sort of french toast, only made with exceptionally thick slices of bread with a golden brown crust, served with softly beaten cream and raspberries. To the side were perfectly cooked sausages. The smell was sinful, and his stomach rumbled in anticipation, though he did regard the sausages with suspicion.

He speared one and held it up, meeting the Radio Demon’s half-lidded crimson stature. “What sort of meat did you say this was?”

A sharp smile. “Venison, my dear fellow.”

Fizz snorted at the pun, and Alastor took a sip from his ‘Oh Deer’ mug in smug satisfaction as the rest of the table groaned.

“And where did you acquire venison in Hell?”

Alastor’s smile widened. “Oh I have my ways,” he said, then rolled his eyes, “I promise you it is just venison, and that the creature it came from had no more sentience than any other deer on Earth.”

Not entirely reassuring, but he suspected it would be the only answer he’d get. Ozzie took a bite of the sausage. It was delicious.

Alastor snapped his fingers and a multiple carafes of coffee appeared down the table, alongside milk and sugar, and a large jug of orange juice. They’d barely come into existence when Fizz’s arms snaked out and snagged a carafe, filling his own mug and then Ozzie’s.

He couldn’t help but feel his heart warm, and he took the opportunity to plant a quick kiss on the imp’s head. Beneath the table he felt Fizz’s tail curl around his leg. He looked back up to see Charlie watching him, a huge grin on her face. He smiled back at her, and reached over to ruffle her hair.

The delightful novelty of being able to show Fizz affection in front of people had yet to wear off. Every day, he felt like shouting his love to the entirety of Hell. But sitting with his niece and her friends at breakfast without worry was a pretty good alternative.

Breakfast had passed in a blur of good food and good conversation. The food was excellent, the bread - apparently a dish called pain perdu - was crispy on the outside and pillow soft and creamy on the inside, soaked with an orange vanilla syrup with just a bite of liqueur. As blasphemous as it felt to say about anything in Hell, the food was almost divine.

Round the table everyone had slowly started to awaken. Part way through, Fizz and Angel Dust had had an animated conversation of challenges of extendable limbs versus having multiple pairs.

(“You’d think that the extension would make it easier, but when I was learning how to use them I slapped myself in the face So. Many. Time. Oz was conjuring me icepacks literally every day!” Fizz said, waving said arms in a way no flesh and blood pair could ever accomplish.

“You think that’s difficult? Try waking up as a freakin’ spider with three sets of arms, all of which can pop in and out of existence. It took me a year to get any coordination back and I still keep one lot tucked away.”).

It was nice to see Fizz getting on with someone else. While the imp was gregarious by nature, so many people these days saw him as nothing more than a living breathing version of a Robo Fizz and didn’t bother to consider that maybe he didn’t panting people panting after him 24/7. It seemed like the spider sinner understood that more than most, and was treating Fizz like a person rather than an item to be lusted over.

Watching them, he’d decided that he’d do his best to improve the sinner’s situation with Valentino. He’d honestly only planned to just scare the shit out of the moth overlord, but he suspected that would backfire spectacularly when Angel Dust was concerned. He’d hate for Fizz’s new friend to end up hurt because he got angry at the wrong moment. He was well aware he had a temper and a habit of putting his foot in it when he got worked up. He was going to have to get creative.

Breakfast had also proved interesting for other reasons. Watching everyone interact, he’d begun to understand the dynamics here, though what he saw didn’t exactly comfort him.

At one point during breakfast, he’d spotted the bartender tipping what looked like half a flask into his mug when he thought nobody was looking, only for Vaggie to give him an earful for not even waiting for midday. The Radio Demon had looked entirely too amused by that exchange, leaning back in his chair, mug still in hand as Niffty clambered onto his shoulder to watch proceedings.

Ozzie could tell from the way the currents of power had twisted in the room that there was some sort of binding between Alastor and Husk (a soul-bound deal most likely), along with the maid. There was also a sense of something else coming from the Radio Demon as well, a tendril of power trailing off into the ether that spoke of a similar binding (though who held the other end he couldn’t say).

He didn’t much like the idea that someone had put the Radio Demon on a leash.

After breakfast, Charlie had made some noises about starting the day’s activities, but he’d pulled her aside and asked for a quick chat. She’d taken the request in stride, and Fizz had volunteered to assist Vaggie with the set up for the day.

Which (after a quick break to get dressed) was how Ozzie and Charlie found themselves sitting across from each other on faded red armchairs in a small, tucked away office. He assumed it must be her’s (unless the hotel had a bunch of empty offices just set up around the place), though it desperately lacked a personal touch. He made a note to himself to put Charlie in touch with the artist who’d painted the portrait in his own office. The imp in question was a rising talent, and he knew she’d do an excellent job for Charlie.

“Soooooo, how are you finding the hotel?” Charlie said in the tones of someone who knew that they were about to have an awkward conversation, and was desperately pretending otherwise.

Ozzie huffed out a laugh. Charlie had never been overly fond of conversations focusing on herself. He remembered one occasion in her youth where Lucifer had begged him to talk to Charlie - who had spent the previous week shut in her room crying - about the boy she’d been dating. Once he’d been able to tease out what the problem was, they’d had a long chat with her about exactly why that von Eldritch boy was bad news. More than the talk itself, she’d squirmed like a worm on a hotplate the entire conversation when forced to confront her own feelings on the matter.

(“Boys suck,” Charlie had said, flopped on her bed with a pillow covering her head.

“Not all boys, sweetheart. Sevitahan is just an ass.”

“I don’t care, no more boys.”)

“It’s an interesting change of pace from Lust,” he said diplomatically.

Charlie’s smile fell a fraction. “I know it’s a bit rough around the edges, but with Alastor’s help we’ve been able to make it look way nicer!” she protested, “It can only get better.”

This was patently false - Ozzie could think of a large number of things that could make the hotel worse, not limited to the fact that an extremely powerful overlord was apparently playing hotel manager with her.

“Yeah… Alastor. Sweetheart, are you sure that you know what you’re doing with him?”

“He’s really not that bad! I mean he’s a bit,” here she paused, “sadistic? But he’d also been a huge help! The hotel would probably have fallen apart without him!” Charlie squared her shoulders, and made direct eye contact. “I owe him a lot.”

Ozzie winced. He could read between the lines on this particular front. Charlie had been dreaming of redemption for decades, and not one of her family had stepped up to actually help with that dream. It had just been her, and then her girlfriend. So having help just pop out of thin air…no wonder she felt grateful to the Radio Demon.

“I’m really glad he’s helping you fulfil your dreams. But demons like him don't do things for free,” he sighed, running his claws through his mane. He knew that the small faces were frowning in concern. “You didn’t make a deal, did you?”

Charlie scowled, and for a moment her horns began to manifest, hair raising up like a thunderstorm. “I’m not a child, Uncle Oz! I know better than to make deals. Dad was always really fucking clear on that.” On the last few words, her voice broke a little bit, the anger draining away. “That’s the only help he’s given me lately.”

Oh for fucks sake Lucy, would it kill you to do a better job of being a dad, Ozzie thought desperately, before sliding of the sofa to kneel in front of her. Charlie tried to look away, but he tilted her chin up with a gentle claw.

“I promise I’m not trying to treat you like a child,” he said gently, “I’m just worried. Deals between sinners are dangerous, but a deal made with you…I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“Well maybe I don’t care if I get hurt! The extermination is happening in only two months and dad is just letting it happen,” she began to cry, “I’d rather be hurt than something happen to my friends.”

“Oh no,” he muttered, and pulled her in for a hug. Kneeling as he was, he was the perfect height to tuck her head under his chin.

Ozzie was coming to startling and very unwelcome realisation of how monumentally their entire family had fucked up. They’d all known that the Exterminations bothered Charlie, but they’d dismissed it as a phase she’d grow out of.

For the Sins, the yearly Extermination was barely a passing thought. The most they ever saw of it was the influx of hellborn in the lead up to it, keen to avoid the chaos. Shitl, he even hosted a special night at Ozzie’s each year in honour of the out-of-towners who showed up. It was just sinners, he’d rationalised when he’d even bothered to think about it.

His niece however, didn’t turn a blind eye. She’d seen all the suffering and the pain and the misery, and used it as fuel to dream. She dreamed so big, just as big as Lucifer once had. With painful clarity, he knew that she’d willingly throw herself on the pyre of her dreams if it meant that she could lessen that suffering. Without support, she’d fall as surely as her father had, and there would be no soft landing for her, no second chances.

Heaven didn’t care for dissension. The Angelic Council held itself up as all that was moral, all that was just. To against their will was to be worthy of damnation. To even question their will was enough to be struck down. Even after millenia he could still feel the aching itch of where his wings had once been, before they’d been torn away and he’d Fallen.

If their family kept turning a blind eye, Charlie would burn herself to ash before they noticed, and he couldn’t have that. “How about we figure out a solution that keeps you all safe?”

Charlie gave a watery chuckle, and nodded against his chest.

When they rejoined the others almost an hour (and a large pot of tea that he’d conjured) later, the morning’s activities were already well underway.

A large table had been set up in the lobby (according to Charlie it was one of rooms in better condition, not to mention the least draughty) and someone had put up a banner that read ‘Art Therapy!!!!!’ from one of the bannisters. A range of art supplies were spread across the table, and easels set up around the room.

“- fucks sake Angel, are you incapable of painting something that isn’t horny?!” Vaggie was yelling in exasperation at the spider sinner, who was staring back at her with two pairs of arms folded and an annoyed look on his face.

“I don’t know what to tell ya, toots,” he said rolling his eyes, “I just followed the prompt ya gave me.”

“What about the prompt made you think drawing porn was an appropriate response?!”

At this point Ozzie watched as Fizz chimed in. “Wellll, you did say ‘draw something hard you’d experienced in life’ - not his fault he took you literally.”

Vaggie’s eye twitched, and Charlie took this as her cue to sweep in and usher her girlfriend away before Angel Dust ended up with a spear embedded in his shoulder. The sinner waited until she was across the room before collapsing into giggles right alongside Fizz.

As Charlie and her (suspiciously non sinner-like) girlfriend passed him, Ozzie caught Vaggie muttering under her breath “...there’s two of them now..” to her girlfriend in tones of horror.

Looking around the room, Ozzie noticed that the only sinner missing seemed to be the Radio Demon. Not surprising. This didn’t really seem like his scene. However, the sense of blood lust he’d felt yesterday was well and truly present.

Casting his eyes upward, he spotted the sinner lurking on the balcony above, watching the group with that ever present smile.

With barely a thought Ozzie teleported to the balcony, scant inches from Alastor. There was an abrupt screech of radio static and he noticed the sinner’s claws digging into the railing for a second. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. This was a lie.

“Just a momentary upset my dear fellow, easily rectified.” With a wave of Alastor’s hand and a crackle of green energy, the damage to the balcony was mended in an instant. “Now what can I do for you? It’s not every day that a Sin graces me with their company.”

“I can’t just want to get to know my niece's friends?”

A canned studio laugh track rang out. “Ha! Friends. No,” the sinner said with a chuckle that rang false in his ears, “we are business partners, acquaintances at best.”

“And do you usually go into business with someone you’ve just met?”

“When one encounters an individual with such a bizarre and uniquely entertaining idea as dear Charlotte, it is vitally important to leap on the opportunity before it passes you by.” He made a sweeping gesture at the group below. “All these miserable souls, gathered together to try and obtain something as laughable as redemption…I simply had to see the hubris first hand.”

They both looked down at the lobby. Somehow art therapy had suddenly and dramatically descended into a paint fight. They watched as Angel Dust grabbed a pink paint can and dumped the contents of it straight onto Sir Pentious, only to be hit in the face - courtesy of Fizz - with a sponge dipped in orange paint. Even the grumpy bartender had joined in the chaos, tossing paintbrushes at anyone who got too close. The maid was rushing around amongst them armed with coloured pencils, trying to stab them before they caused any more mess. Charlie and Vaggie stood in the centre of it all, the latter looking like she was about to blow a blood vessel.

“What the princess sees in them, I truly do not know. We are all down here for a reason, and why someone like her bothers to pay us any mind at all is the strangest thing of all,” the sinner finished with a chuckle.

There was a long pause, and then Ozzie felt a prickle go down his spine as he saw that the shadows behind the deer demon had lengthened, his antlers just a touch longer.

“Of course, Charlie clearly isn’t the only one in her family with a taste for,” the grin widened impossible further, “the lower classes.” This was delivered with the same upbeat trans-Atlantic accent as everything else, but Ozzie could hear the malice beneath the malice beneath the honey, trying to goad him into a reaction.

“Oh that’s real cute,” Ozzie replied and tapped Alastor on the nose, like one might with a cat who was sticking their head too close to a plate of food they weren’t allowed to eat.

The deer demon reeled back as though he’d been slapped, eyes briefly flashing to radio dials as the air screeched with feedback.

Asmodeus leaned down into the sinner's space, suddenly larger than before. “A lesson from someone who has been alive a myriad longer than you: don’t try that shit again unless you want me to knock you into the void.,” he laid a heavy hand on the sinner’s shoulder, letting his talons dig in just a little, “and if you so much as hurt a hair on Charlie’s head, whether it be emotionally or physically, I will rip you apart. Capiche?”

With a =n expression of distaste, Alastor’ used his microphone to lift the Sin’s hand from his shoulder, then dusted it off without making eye contact. “Understood.”

They both continued to stare at each other, tension ratcheting up, until the sound of a ringing phone broke the tension.

Ozzie fished into his pocket for the buzzing device. Looking at the ID, he shot the other demon a distinctly insincere smile. “Hope you don’t mind, I’ve got to take this call,” before turning his back on Alastor.

“Hey Tiff, you got the appointment set up?”

“Yes sir, at 12 p.m. today at V Tower.”

“Excellent, thanks babe.”

“No problem sir, happy to assist.”

The call ended with a click. Ozzie turned and, as expected, Alastor was long gone.

By the time he made it back down to the lobby, the fight had ended and the entire room was flecked with rainbow splatters. Honestly, he thought it improved the space. Anything to escape the overbearing red-and-gold palette. Much like the room itself, nobody involved had escaped unscathed. Charlie and her companions were practically dripping with paint, the colours melding into an ugly brown smear in places. That wasn’t as pleasant as the rainbow splatters.

Approaching, Ozzie noticed a smear of bright green across Fizz’s face, a splotch of yellow soaking into his jester hat. “Trying a new look babe?”

“Oh you know me Oz,” the imp replied, stretching himself over to wind himself around his partner’s neck, “I do like a lotta colour.”

He pushed halfheartedly at Fizz, laughing as paint smeared on his own hands. “Oh stop it, you’re getting me messy.”

“I thought you liked it when I got you messy?” the imp purred back.

“Oh what the fuck?!” Vaggie yelled. They both turned to see the one-eyed girl looking at them with an exasperated impression. “Now is not the time for flirting! The whole lobby is covered in paint because of you,” she said, jabbing a finger in Fizz’s direction. Behind her, Charlie hovered with a worried expression, clearly torn between agreeing with Vaggie and concern at her yelling at her uncle's boyfriend.
“It was hardly just me,” Fizz replied in his classic sht-eating tone, before catching sight of Charlie’s expression, “...but I’m sure Ozzie can fix it up. Can’t you, big daddy?”

Ozzie groaned as Fizz’s patented Puppy Dog EyesTM were turned on him. “Okay fine, just this once,” he said, and with a gesture the room sparkled with blue and pink light, before clearing to reveal a perfectly clean lobby in its wake.

Niffty, who has been in the middle of scrubbing an especially large puddle of paint, sat up and blinked at him owlishly.

“Now Fizzy-frog, I know you were having fun, but maybe try and keep the chaos to a minimum from now on?”

“Fiiiiiine.”

“Good to hear it. Now I have some errands to run, and a moth to teach some manners to, so how about you stay here and make amends?”

“No complaints from me,” Fizz said, sliding to the ground.

The last thing Ozzie heard before teleporting away was the sound of a strangled “What the hell is he talkin’ about?!”, from Angel Dust, and then he was gone.

Chapter Text

V Tower, Pentagram City - Pride

“– can’t believe that fucking bitch finalised the appointment with Asmodeus for only two hours away,” growled Valentino, riffling through his wardrobe. There was already a pile of clothes tossed on the floor: jackets, dresses, harnesses and tights all scattered where they’d been considered and then discarded.

Vox, who was lounging on the bed, barely looked up from his phone. “I thought you wanted to meet with Asmodeus?”  Val had demanded that he keep him company while he picked an appropriate outfit. He complied, mainly because the moth overlord’s bed was fucking comfortable (even if the round designed and mirrored ceiling as obnoxiously tacky.

A pair of boots were flung across the room at him. He ducked his head slightly to let them pass, and they smacked into the wall behind him. This was typical fucking Val - the moment he got even slightly nervous things started flying. Not that Val would ever admit he was nervous.

“I wanted to meet him on my terms,” Val said as he held up a short black dress, “not during a last minute meeting that he requested. I bet that bitch princess has been whining about what happened at the studio the other week.”

“I think it’s more likely he wants to meet for business. That’s what his assistant said, right?” he said. 

“You think, Voxxy?” 

Fuck I hate that nickname, he thought. “He’s the Sin of Lust, of course he’d want to meet you,” he said consolingly, “you do lust like no-one else in Pride.”

Val was turned away from him, but out of the corner of vision, Vox watched as Val’s ruff fluffed up at the compliment and he caught the faint sound of pleased squeaking. The moth overlord might be a capricious bitch most of the time, but he was surprisingly easy to manipulate if you knew him well enough.

“ Ever since they stopped producing Robo Fizz’s, Asmodeus’ profits have been way down. It’s the perfect time for him to try and expand his enterprises.”

“Hmmm, in that case which of these looks more ‘business wight the Sin of Lust’, Voxxy?” Val held up a deep purple suit jacket in one hand, and the black dress he’d been considering earlier.

He grinned. “Oh definitely the dress, plus some fishnets. If you’re meeting with Asmodeus you want to look hot. ”

Val grinned his own shark-toothed grin, gold tooth glinting. “Oh you think I look hot , do you, amorcito?” 

His partner dropped the outfits he’d been holding and started stalking towards him. Already a thin line of pinkish-red drool was dripping from his lips (not that it had any effect on him, what with the whole semi-synthetic body and all. It was a pointless biological response on Val’s part) (still hot though). A flare of the overlord’s wings revealed the distinct lack of clothing beneath their covering.

Sensing where this was going, he tossed his phone to the side and reached out a hand to yank Val towards him. “How about I give you something else to think about before that meeting?”

Hazbin Hotel, Pentagram City - Pride Ring

When Ozzie had said ‘let’s visit my niece’, Fizz had been expecting a couple of things: the stress of meeting his boyfriend’s niece, and a chance to meet one of his favourite celebrities (he was an Angel Dust fan, sue him). What he hadn’t expected was for Ozzie to drop what was apparently a bombshell and leave, and for him to be stuck watching said niece and favourite celebrity have a screaming row without his boyfriend’s support.

“What the FUCK , Charlie?” Angel Dust screamed, eyes wide and panicked as he gripped Charlie by the shoulders with one set of hands, the others gesturing wildly. “What did he mean, he’s got a ‘moth to teach some manners to’?”

Charlie looked up at him, seeing to shrink in on herself in the face of her friend’s anger. “He wants to talk to Valentino…” she said, voice small.

Angel Dust let out a hysterical half laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You fuckin’ asked him to talk to Val??” he shouted,  “I thought you understood!”

“Angel, that’s not what I did. I just asked him some advice after what happened, and when he found out how Val treated me he was really upset –”

“You mean the fact that he, what, licked your arm and offered you a fuckin’ job?” Angel Dust snapped. “So you decided to let your uncle, the goddamn Sin of Lust, play white knight for you? Because you fucked up and put yourself in a stupid position?”

Charlie looked like she was about to protest, but Angel Dust kept going. “Valentino is obsessed with your uncle. Like ‘practically has a shrine to him’ level obsessed.” He laughed like his lungs were being yanked from his chest, sharp and pained. “So what do you think Val is going to do when Asmodeus shows up and puts him in his place?”

Charlie put what was obviously meant to be a comforting hand on Angel’s. “I promise it will all be –”

“If you fuckin’ say ‘it’ll be all be alright’, I’m gonna slap you,” he snapped in response. “You’re not the one with a chain around your neck."

Fizz watched nervously as Vaggie stepped towards the pair, spear in hand. “Angel, let her go.” 

Angel Dust growled and shoved Charlie away, stalking towards one of the couches where he flung himself down. The spider sinner looked like he was on the verge of throwing up, chest heaving as he took panicked breaths. All his secondary eyes were open wide and glowing. “I’m s- s- sorry,” he said through gasping breaths, “but Val is going to kill me for this.”

Fizz recognised the signs - Angel Dust was on the verge of a panic attack, if he hadn’t tipped over edge into it already. Meanwhile Charlie looked like she was about to try and continue the fight, and he couldn’t have that. 

In a burst of movement he stretched himself over to, blocking the path. “Listen Charlie, you need to give him space right now,” he said, trying to be gentle.

“I just, I want t- to explain –”

“He isn’t in a position to have anything explained to him. You all need to clear out and give him some privacy,” he interrupted, looking around the room and meeting the gaze of each sinner. It made his stomach flip when he made eye contact with the Radio Demon lurking at the back of the room, but he pushed onward despite the fear. 

Charlie’s eyes welled with tears. “I don’t want to leave him alone.”

“I’ll stay,” he said, “I’ve got my fair share of experience with this shit.”

“Really? You will?” When he nodded, she flung her arms around him in a quick hug, before making quick work of ushering everyone away.

The moment everyone was out of sight, Fizz slowly approached Angel Dust. The sinner was bent nearly half over, clutching at his head and gasping in erratic breaths. He quietly crouched in front of the demon, careful not to crowd into his space. He was acutely aware of what this felt like, and it was never easy to see someone else go through it.

“Hey Angel, tell me what I can do for you,” he said as gently as he could despite the rasp of his voice.

Angel Dust took a few more gasping breaths before speaking. “I- I need Charlie to stop makin’ fuckin’ decisions about my life.”

Fizz snorted despite himself. “Sure, we can work on that. But how about in the meantime you concentrate on breathing?”

The sinner nodded shakily. 

“Okay, breathe in for me,” he said, counting to five, “and breathe out.” Together they breathed, and slowly, ever so slowly, he watched the tension begin to drain from Angel Dust’s body as his breath deepend and evened out.

It took a few more minutes but eventually the sinner straightened up and flopped boneless back onto the couch. He grabbed a pillow and covered his face with it, letting out a strangled ‘fuuuuck’. Fizz sighed and moved to curl up at the end of the couch. 

Riffling through his pockets, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that he’d  liberated from Blitzø the other day.The fucker had got him hooked again, asshole. He silently offered one to Angel Dust and the sinner accepted. 

Fizz took a long drag of the cigarette. It seemed a bit ironic that he could enjoy this, when smoke had once sent him in a panic, but these days the nicotine more than made up for any residual trauma. This was Hell - a few unhealthy coping mechanisms were hardly the worst thing. Side-eying Angel Dust, he saw the sinner seemed to have relaxed a bit. It was weird seeing the porn star smoke - it wasn’t one of the vices he’d seen him indulge in before.

“Feeling better?’ he asked.

“I mean, I’m not havin’ a panic attack anymore,” Angel Dust replied wearily, waving the cigarette through the air to emphasise his point, “but it’s only a matter of time before Val kills me at the this point.”

That was pretty grim, but Fizz understood where he was coming from. Still, Angel Dust wasn’t working with the whole picture. It was pretty clear that Valentino was a piece of work, but so was Mammon, and until recently Ozzie had had a shit ton of experience dealing with him without exacerbating Fizz’s  situation. Not that Angel Dust would know that, of course. From his perspective Ozzie had just waltzed out to bulldoze a sensitive situation into rubble. 

 “Neither of us knew Charlie hadn’t told you,” he replied, “we thought you knew why Ozzie was visiting.”

“Charlie’s a sweet kid, but she thinks she has the right to mess with everybody’s lives,” Angel Dust said with a sigh, then frowned, “I mean I guess she kinda has the right as princess, but she thinks we should all freakin’ thank her when she does it.” 

Fizz laughed. “Hard to believe that she’s older than the both of us combined.”

At that the spider sinner snapped upright and stared at him with wide eyes. “Wait, what?”

“Ozzie said she’s like two hundred? He’s not great at dates, but she's definitely a couple of centuries old.”

Angel Dust blinked at him with wide eyes, before slumping back down, chest shaking. For a moment Fizz thought he was crying, but it was actually laughter. “Fuck, really? She’s old enough to be my grandma? That’s fuckin’ hilarious.”

“And you’re old enough to be my grandfather. Hell’s weird like that.”

A few more minutes passed in companionable silence, and then he spoke again. “Ozzie knows how to deal with assholes, alright? He likes you and he's not an idiot - he’ll handle this in a way you don’t get hurt.”

Angel Dust scoffed. “Why the fuck would the embodiment of Lust bother helping a sinner?”

“Well, he bothered to do it for me,” he said with a shrug, “back before we were together and I was just a random amputee imp that managed to win Mammon’s showcase.”

His response neglected to mention the fact that had no fucking idea why Ozzie had done that for him, either. No matter what the Sin said, it still seemed like a fever dream made real. Those years had been some of the worst (and best) of his life. He’d managed to survive being blown up, had forced himself to learn how to use his prosthetics (back then they’d just been budget range metal ones with barely any sensation at all), had managed to win Mammon’s annual showcase and propel himself into stardom. 

Back then, he’d been willing to sign away every part of himself just to be what the Sin had wanted, and Mammon had taken and taken and taken. Then Ozzie had swooped in like a bloody guardian angel and made everything better, bit by bit. It hadn’t happened overnight, of course. But ever so surely he gotten his freedom back.

“I kind of get it, ya know,” Fizz said, taking a drag of his cigarette, “the whole ‘sociopath having complete control of your life’ situation.”

“Riiiight. You had what, ten years of it with Mammon? Meanwhile I’ve been under Val’s thumb for fifty,” Angel Dust said. Because apparently they were going to argue who was the more traumatised now. Great. Seemed they’d skipped to the stage where the sinner was going to feel sorry for himself and take everyone else down in the process.

“And that fucking sucks. But you’re also a sinner. You’re immortal, unless you get run through with an angelic weapon,” he countered, “Overlords get taken out all the time. Live long enough, play your cards right, and you might outlast him, get free that way, especially now that Oz has taken an interest.”

“Oh right, because your sugar daddy is gonna make this all better” Angel Dust said with a scoff, waving a hand, “yeah right. Unless this redemption shit starts working it’s only a matter of time til Val decides to put a bullet through my skull that sticks.” 

“At least you’ have that hope,” Fizz bit back, suddenly feeling annoyed. “There isn’t any redemption for imps. We get one fucking shot at life and half that time we’re dead by thirty because someone decides to shoot us, or stab us, or decides we’re dinner. We don’t come back from that, not like you lot.”

That seemed to stop the sinner in his tracks. Fizz watched as he opened his mouth to say something, then paused and clearly thought better of it.

“Ya know, that kinda puts things into perspective when it comes to Mammon,” he said eventually, “that’s a big chunk of your life. Fuck. I’d honestly forget that hellborn were mortal, not like I spend much time around ya, Charlie being the exception.”

“Right back at you. Hanging around sinners is a fucking liability for imps.”

 “Still, at least you don’t face the extermination every year?” Angel Dust said. Because apparently they were still doing this. Still, it seemed like this was banter rather than an actual argument now.

“And we die every freaking day. It isn’t a competition,” Fizz replied without much heat, “we aren’t having some dick measuring contest of who has the worst trauma.” Then he smirked. “Though if we were, getting blown up by fireworks on my birthday and spending fifteen years thinking my best friend did it on purpose because he was jealous is pretty top tier trauma.”

“Well I -” Angel Dust started, then paused, “actually that’s pretty fucked up. Shit.”

Fizz met the sinner’s mismatched eyes, and then as though some sort of signal had been made, they were fucking howling with laughter, clutching onto each of as they gasped for air. The situation was still shit, but hopefully by the time Ozzie returned he’d have good news.

Meanwhile at Morningstar Palace - Pride Ring

Morningstar Palace was only barely located in Pentagram City. Sitting on the absolute outskirts of the outskirts, saying the palace was in Pentagram City was really only true as a technicality. For any normal resident of Pride it would have been a ridiculously long car ride to reach. Thankfully for Ozzie, he was a Sin, and wasn’t limited by such quaint notions such as physical distance. It had taken nothing more than a snap of his fingers as he left the hotel, and now he was standing in the palace gardens.

Under any other circumstances, he’d have avoided visiting the palace. The building was a tacky, heaping monstrosity dripping with overblown duck, apple and circus themed decorations (because Lucifer had never had a concept of moderation in his life) that Lucifer kept adding to whenever he got bored. This wouldn’t have been so bad, were it not for the fact that boredom was a near constant state for the King of Hell in recent years (Lucifer had not taken the divorce well). However, in less than two hours he was going into a meeting with an Overlord of the Pride Ring, and Lucifer was still ignoring his texts. While he doubted Lucifer would care about him turning Valentino into a splatter if he lost his temper (especially if he found out how the sinner had treated Charlie), it was still good manners. Which meant visiting the palace, and unearthing Lucifer from whatever hole he’d dropped himself into. 

He started walking towards the palace, grimacing at the sight around him. Fuck he hated this place. The palace gardens were filled with trees and bushes shaped into the shapes of apples and snakes (because of course they fucking were), and there was an honest to god Merry-go-round with rubber ducks instead of horses just sitting off to one side. Worst of all, however, was the fact that there was circus music being piped through speakers rigged through the grounds.  It wasn’t that he disliked circuses - he was dating Fizzy, for fucks sake. It was just that knew   without a doubt that he was going to be stuck with the tunes in his head for days. 

Ozzie encountered precisely no-one on his journey from gardens to the palace itself. This wasn’t especially surprising - last he’d heard Lucifer had fired all his staff. The only reason the palace wasn’t a complete disaster was Lucifer's own magic holding the whole place in statis. Though , Ozzie thought as he made his way into the palace proper, perhaps said magic was wearing a bit thin .

Although on its surface the palace seemed as horrifically, tastelessly gaudy as ever, there were signs of decay when you knew what to look for. Faint cracks in the walls, potted plants that looked slightly too brown, wallpaper peeling every so slightly. And, of course, the ducks.

The closer he got to the residential wing of the palace, the more ducks he spotted. At first it was just the odd one here and there - a small yellow duck in a black top hat sitting on a plinth, another in a blue jacket sitting on a table - but the numbers grew quickly, until he was weaving his way through small piles stacked in the hallways.

Lucifer had always had a bit of a thing for ducks. He’d designed the first one, back when they were first populating Earth with all the myriad weird and wonderful creatures, and the hyperfixation hadn’t faded in the over ten millennia they’d been in Hell. The Sins all had their personal thoughts on the ducks - personally he thought they were quite cute - but they all agreed that there was a difference between making a few ducks here and there, and filling your palace with them. Seeing the state of the palace, Ozzie was beginning to realise that his estimate of Lucifer’s current mental health had been significantly misjudged. This was way worse than he’d anticipated.

It took a bit of trial and error to find Lucifer - he searched the library (so obviously unused he’d only stuck his head in), the workshop (predictably filled with ducks both finished and in progress) and even even Charlie’s old bedroom (preserved in perfect statis, as though it hadn’t been over ten years since she’d moved out).

He finally hit the jackpot in Lucifer’s bedroom. Simply opening the door had been a challenge. The entrance had been almost entirely blocked by piles of ducks - not just rubber ducks, but plushies of all sizes, ranging from the size of an apple to one he was relatively certain was bigger than Lucifer. He’d had to shrink down to get through the gap, and even then it had been a narrow fit until he’d pushed the ducks away.

“Lucifer?” he called out. 

A muffled grunt echoed through the room, coming from the massive four-post bed in its centre. Like almost everything belonging to the King of Hell, it was red and gold and covered with apple and snake motifs. There were also duck garlands strung around its edges, their almost neon yellow clashing horribly with the rest of the decor. Ozzie couldn’t spot Lucifer from the entrance to the room, but that had more to do with the piles of ducks on the bed than anything else. 

Returning to full size, he strode over and started pushing the piles of ducks away to reveal his (sort-of) brother, lying curled up under a rubber duck patterned fleece blanket. 

Ozzie poked him. “Get up, Luce.”

Lucifer groaned and just pulled the blanket over his head, sending a nearby pile of small red ducks toppling over his curled up form. Oh shit, he thought, this is even worse than I expected . Sure his brother has been going through a rough patch (though was it really a rough patch when there were more times like this than not?), but this was especially tragic. The last time he’d been here three years back, there had been a few ducks littered around, but not enough to crush you under their weight.

“Come on, you can’t stay under there forever,” he said

“Watch me,” was the muffled response. Even in a depressive huddle, Lucifer really was a petulant son of a bitch.

“I’m warning you - if you don’t get up, I will make  you get up.”

Silence. 

In one smooth motion, Ozzie pulled Lucifer’s blanket away, grabbed his brother by the back of his duck onesie (and that was something to unpack later, because seriously ?), and tossed him over his shoulder. This move was apparently so shocking that it took Lucifer a good thirty seconds (around the time it took him to leave the room and start striding down the corridor) to process what had happened to him and start attempting to scramble over his shoulder like an unhappy cat.

“Fuck! Ow –”, Ozzie yelped as sharp claws bit into his shoulders, “– fucking hells Luce, can you not –” he tightened his grip reflexively, which just made the claws dig in harder, “ – just let me put you –” a wing manifested and smacked him in the face. Oh for fucks sake. 

Ozzie threw Lucifer away from him with a sound like ripping velcro. The shorter demon hit the ground with a thump, all six wings flared in outrage. 

“Seriously, Luce?” he groaned, prodding at the damage to his shoulder.

“What do you mean ‘Seriously, Luce?’ You’re the one who threw me over your shoulder!?” Lucifer complained from his spot on the floor. He showed no signs of trying to stand, just sat there in a disheveled heap, glaring with bright red eyes - that were surrounded by the deepest shadows Ozzie had seen in a while - and an unhappy frown. 

“You weren't getting up,” he replied. He had warned him.

“I WAS SLEEPING!?”

“No you weren’t. You were just moping and refusing to answer my messages.”

Lucifer blinked up at him. “...what messages?”

Ozzie dragged a hand across his face in exasperation. “The ones I sent you.” 

A blank look. 

“The messages I sent you three days ago?” 

Still blank.

“Telling you that I was coming to Pride and also that you should visit Charlie?”

That finally caused a spark of realisation on Lucifer’s face, and then his mouth twisted in dismay in a look that Ozzie recognised well: Lucifer’s patented ‘oh shit I forgot something important didn’t I? And now people are mad at me’ expression. 

The expression was so horrifically guilty that he felt his annoyance begin to crumble away. Looking down at Lucifer, he realised that his wings were still out, and Ozzie noted with increasing alarm that they looked terrible - feathers sticking out at odd angles that spoke of a lack of preening. It had been millennia since he’d lost his own wings, but he knew how uncomfortable Lucifer must be. Letting them get that bad…it wasn’t a great sign.

Reaching down, he offered Lucifer a hand, and pulled him to his feet. “How about we go have some tea and a chat? I have a meeting at midday but we have time.”

Settled in a smaller sitting room almost empty of ducks, Ozzie regarded Lucifer with concern.

“So, um, Ozzie, my pal, what can I do for you?” Lucifer said, wilting under his direct gaze.

“Well, I was stopping by to let you know that I might be killing an Overlord, but now I’m just worried about you,” he replied gently. “I knew that you were going through a rough time, but Luce, this is worse than I’ve seen you in millennia.”

Lucifer looked away, focused on his cup of tea. “Oh you want to kill a sinner? Go ahead, they're all terrible” he said with a moment of false cheer before slumping back into his seat,”I’m fine, really. The old noggin is just a bit loopy, that’s all. Sorry for not replying, it’s just, ah, it’s so quiet here, I lose track of time.”

Because that wasn’t concerning at all Luce , he thought, exasperated. “Why don’t you go see Charlie then?” he asked. 

Lucifer let out a pained wheeze of laughter. “Ha, me go see Charlie? No. Nooooooo. She wouldn’t want her old man getting in the way.”

“Well why did she tell me this morning that she missed you?” he replied, and watched Lucifer freeze in place. He could see that the hands holding the cup of tea were shaking slightly. “She’s desperate for you to reach out, to show you care, not just to ask her to do something.”

Lucifer curled in on himself more. “I do care, Deus. I’m just, ah really busy here?”

Ozzie leveled him with an unimpressed look. “So busy that you don’t visit your daughter, and have her meet with Adam ?” Charlie had told him about that little meeting, and if that fucker wasn’t tucked away in Heaven, he’d shove that angelic bastard’s head so far up his own asshole that it would take a millennia for him to recover. Adam was the worst . 

“Um what, she met with Adam?” the devil blinked owlishly, “Ohhhh right, on extermination day…wait that was Adam she met with?” He grimaced. “Shit, that was, um, not great of me?”

Understatement of century, Luce.

“Yeah, it wasn’t great. Apparently he was a fucking asshole towards her and mocked her whole redemption plan, then told her that they were moving extermination up by six months.”

“Redemption plan? Wait I remember Charlie saying something about a hotel,” Lucifer said, looking genuinely excited that he’d recalled a basic fact about his daughter’s life. Then, “she’s actually trying to get sinners into Heaven? But they’re terrible!”

For the most part, Ozzie agreed with him. Sinners as a rule were creatively horrible little cockroaches. But that wasn’t the point.

“Well Charlie doesn’t think that, and if you don’t want to lose your daughter you need to start supporting her. We’ve all been letting her down and I’m worried that she’s going to burn herself out.”

“I’m not sure what I –” Lucifer began, but Ozzie interrupted him.

“Just show up, Luce. You don’t need to make a huge show of it, just come for a visit,” he said, “how about you come by tomorrow? You can meet Charlie’s friends, and my partner.”

“You’re dating someone?” Lucifer said, then took in his exasperated expression, “...wait I know this, don’t I. Um, Hizzamolli? Chisiltolly?” he tried, looking increasingly desperate.

“...it’s FizzaRolli,” Ozzie corrected. 

Lucifer clapped his hands. “Yes! That’s it!” Then his expression morphed into one of excitement. “Wait, he’s the clown isn’t he?”

Of course he’d be excited about that. Over a myriad old and the King of Hell still acting like a toddler with a new toy whenever ducks and circuses were mentioned. It was honestly kind of adorable. These days it took Lucifer a lot to get excited, and it was nice to see him genuinely interested in something. 

“Yeah, he grew up in a circus, used to work for Mammon,” he explained, “but he’s retired now, so don’t expect him to do a free performance for you,” Ozzie said sternly. 

“Oh no, I promise!” Lucifer said in that earnest way he had that meant he was lying through his teeth. Great.

“So you’ll come tomorrow?” he repeated, “because if you don’t show up I will come back here and teleport you right into the middle of the hotel if needed.”

“....yes.”

“Great, I’ll let Charlie know,” he said, then stood. 

Moving quickly, he pulled Lucifer up into a hug. For a moment his brother tried to squirm away, but then Lucifer’s much smaller arms wrapped around him in return with a crushing desperation. How long had it been since anyone hugged him ? Ozzie thought with a sinking feeling of guilt.

Still hugging Lucifer, he said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.”

Lucifer remained silent for a long moment, then slowly pushed him away. “Well it’s not like I asked anyone to come around, is it?”

Ozzie wanted to argue, but he was acutely aware that he had a meeting to attend. Looking down at the much smaller demon, he smiled sadly. “Well we can change that. I’ll see you tomorrow Luce.”

Then with a flare of blue fire he was gone, off to teach a moth a lesson.

Chapter Text

“Right this way, your Sinfulness,” the fox sinner said, leading Ozzie down a long, golden tiled corridor. They had been walking for several minutes, and he could already feel his temper wearing thin. “The studio is just up ahead.”

“Studio? This was meant to be a meeting with Valentino,” he asked, feeling a headache coming on. He’d arrived at V Tower at exactly midday, and had been expecting that he’d be escorted to a meeting room. Instead, this sinner had led him down a labyrinth of corridors, to the point he was beginning to doubt he was even in V Tower anymore. 

The sinner shrugged, their long orange ears flattening back in discomfort. They were making a concerted effort to appear calm, but they were practically vibrating with anxiety. “I wouldn’t know, your Sinfulness. I was just directed to bring you here.”

The term ‘your Sinfulness’ made his skin crawl (back in the Lust Ring, everyone knew to call him Ozzie, or Asmodeus if they were feeling especially formal).  He didn’t correct them, though. Etiquette was different in the Pride Ring.  The poor thing was clearly trying to do their job, and he didn’t want to make them more stressed. 

He’d tried to make conversation during the walk, even just to know his escort's name, but they’d been silent as the grave apart from giving him directions. 

His heels clicked against the cold stone floor as they walked in silence. The corridor notable for the fact that it was actually tall enough to comfortably accommodate him - there had been no need to shrink himself down to fit through doorways. He’d have almost enjoyed the decor, had it been in cooler tones. It was like looking at a distorted version of his own Ring - heart motifs galore, but in tacky shades of reddish-pink he didn’t care for at all. He also didn’t like the video cameras he could see in every corner - he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

They turned a corner and up ahead were a large pair of arched double doors, purple with bronze accents. A lurid neon sign above proclaimed it to be ‘Triple V Porn Studios’. Right. Apparently Valentino decided he wanted to have this meeting in his own domain , he thought with slight disgust. As power plays went, it was a bit pitiful. 

The sinner rushed forward to open the door for him, and he nodded his thanks before pausing for just a moment in the doorway.

“Time to get this show on the road,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his shoulders. He saw the sinner’s ears flick in his direction but he paid it no mind. Valentino was expecting to meet the Embodiment of Lust, and he was going to give the overlord exactly what he expected, right until he pulled the floor out from under him.

Sweat and overripe fruit . That was his first impression when his escort led him to the studio Valentino was working in. The air was laced with a cloying haze of pink-red smoke, and the smell stuck in his throat. There was something about it that made his feathers ruffle in discomfort. 

The studio was large and dimly lit but for the spotlights over a huge circular bed. A number of sinners lay on it in various levels of undress. Even from here, he could see the gleam of exertion and other bodily fluids glistening on skin and fur, along with the unmistakable smell of sex. Off to one side was the film crew, huddled together around a camera in obvious discussion. Other staff were running back and forth, bringing water to the performers. And in the middle of it all was the unmistakable figure of Valentino.

While he’d never met the overlord, he’d seen his image splashed across enough tv broadcasts, newspaper stories and Sinstagram posts to recognise him. The overlord was lounging back in a chair, cigarette holder held loosely, the picture of ease.

“V̕a͠ḽe͚n͐t͜i̅nͤo̺.” 

He let just a fraction of power bleed through as he spoke. It was enough that - without even raising his voice - every single person in the room froze and turned to look at him. Valentino included.

With an ease that contradicted the sudden tension in the overlord’s spine, Valentino stood. “Your Sinfulness, my apologies, I wasn’t alerted to your arrival,” he called out, even as his pink eyes narrowed behind heart-shaped glasses. 

Off to the corner of the room, the fox sinner who’d escorted him made a break for it, sidling out of the room. He fully expected the overlord to spot them, but his gaze seemed to pass right over them. It seemed the rumours were true, Valentino really was half blind . Interesting.

Valentino crossed the room in long, easy strides that seemed to have an abnormal amount of sway to them. Beneath the red of his coat, Asmodeus caught glimpses of long black boots and fishnets. There was an unmistakable current of lust originating from Valentino, extending in his direction like a punch to the gut. The overlord was basically radiating it to all his senses - and not just figuratively. 

Pheromones wafted off the moth sinner like a giant ‘FUCK ME’ sign above his head. This might have been an effective approach when aimed at most demons. Thankfully Asmodeus was a myriad older and the literal embodiment of lust. Shrugging off the pheromones was child’s play.

A few more steps and Valentino was within arms reach of him. Before he could react, the overlord snagged his hand and brought his lips to it, hot breath ghosting over his knuckles. Asmodeus was used to feeling lust directed at him, but he did not like this sinner . It felt like a violation.

Still holding his hand, Valentino grinned a shark-tooth smile at him. “I hope you don’t mind my choice of venue, Asmodeus – I can call you Asmodeus, can’t I? –  I simply thought you might like to see a sampling of my,” gold-clad fingertips caressed his hand, “merchandise.”

Merchandise? Those were fucking people. 

“Not at all, Valentino.” I am going to turn you into a smear on the floor. “I would love to see more.” And then I will rip your head off and mount it on a stick . “Though after that, I would prefer we took this somewhere more…private.” So that I can string you up with your own entrails .

Oblivious to the distinctly murderous slant of his thoughts, Valentino finally let go of his hand ( thank fuck, he’d been about to do something he’d probably regret) and gestured towards an empty chair. “That sounds like an excellent plan, I look forward to our private meeting.”

Walking over to the chair, he was genuinely shocked that it looked big enough to actually accommodate him. The thought of reducing his size was…unappealing right now. Though really the size of the chair probably shouldn’t have been such a surprise given Valentino’s unnecessary height. He had no idea what infernal fuckery had decided to make a sinner ten feet tall . Just one of the mysteries of life in Hell. 

Across the room, the performers were being ushered into position by one of the aids. A chorus of groans rung out - right up until Valentino snarled out: “Get your fucking acts together people. Can’t you see we have royalty here today?”

The overlord then turned to him, expression morphing back into a slick smile. “Sorry about that papi chulo , sometimes they just need a…firm hand.” 

Asmodeus had no idea what ‘ papi chulo’ meant, but his feathers ruffled in distaste at the clear familiarity being extended towards him. He’d come to this meeting planning to gauge the overlord’s character, and so far Valentino was taking the rope he’d given him and tying his own noose. 

A dark feathered avian sinner sitting nearby in a chair marked ‘Director’ was giving them both a subtle side eye. When he noticed the Sin’s gaze trained on him, he nearly toppled out of his chair.

“Action, people!” the sinner called out.

Asmodeus leaned back in his chair, surveying the action before him with a critical eye. The scene being filmed involved one sinner (a lithe woman with rabbit-like features) being bound to the bed by a number of restraints while the other sinners (a collection of canine-presenting individuals) had their way with her.  He watched as one of the performers shoved her face down against the bed, hands dangerously rough. The force made him wince. While getting a bit rough and tumble in the bedroom was excellent fun (as he and Fizz could attest to), there was a callousness to that touch he disliked. 

It didn’t help that the scene was honestly rather boring, all things considered. If there was any sort of plot, it wasn’t evident as the performers set to work in earnest. He charitably chose to think that maybe he’d just missed that part of the filming. Sex was sex, but he preferred to see at least a little creativity, these days.

Another one of the performers yanked the rabbit sinner’s head up from the bed, and shoved her face towards his crotch. Her limbs scrabbled frantically at the sheets, claws catching in the fabric. The canine sinner paid her distress no heed, just poured out a litany of uninspired dirty talk. 

It wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t erotic, it was just sad. Just the physical act itself, so divorced from anything people actually enjoyed, more of a power move than a sex act.

By the time they were a few minutes into the shoot, he was earnestly fighting the urge to rub his forehead as a dull pounding began in his head, throbbing along to the chorus of over performative moans filling the air. It was so obviously fake. 

Closing his eyes for a moment, he sunk into his other senses. The way he perceived lust didn’t exactly align to any of the five senses, though he often processed it as such. Without the visual input, his sense expanded beyond the fragile constraints of his skin.

Almost immediately he could feel how off the currents of lust were in the room. Beside him there was a hulking darkness of lust gone wrong, almost drowning everything else out - a black hole of want that stretched hungry tendrils out to almost every other figure in the room. Valentino felt wrong to his senses, a perversion of everything the Sin stood for. 

It wasn’t just him though. The performers felt wrong as well. The currents of lust between them were like a peach left to rot in the tree, the smell-taste of it laced with an acrid undertone. He knew that sense, and it made rage boil deep in his bones, and the pain in his head spike. It was the sense of chemically induced lust.

Blinking his eyes open, he eyed the pink haze of smoke that filled the air, the discarded bottles on a nearby table, dregs of pink liquid spilled onto the surface. His gaze fell back on the performers with a new understanding. Now he could almost see the chains of chemical dependency and soul magic laced through all of them. He doubted that even a single one of them would choose to be here, given the chance.

Pheromones, soul contracts, and fucking love potions , he thought with disgust, is this the shit Valentino was pulling?

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” purred Valentino beside him. The overlord had clearly misconstrued his focus on the performers as actual interest. He really was fucking blind, wasn’t he? “Some of my finest zorras , the lot of them.”

Keeping himself from burning this place down was taking every ounce of control. “They are all very talented,” he said noncommittally, “are all of them contract-bound to you?”

“Oh you noticed?” Valentino replied, taking a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curled from his lips in a heart, drifting out over the studio to join the haze. “ Ajá , it makes it easier. They're more..compliant this way.”

Asmodeus hummed a sound of agreement, because if he’d opened his mouth he would have screamed. It was amazing , he thought, the way that Valentino kept digging his own grave . It sickened him. The way that overlords had perverted soul contracts was repellent. Something that was supposed to be treated with the utmost solemnity, twisted into the deepest abuse. 

It made him think of Angel Dust, back at the hotel. If these performers were on a leash, then undoubtedly he was as well. Fuck , he thought, already exhausted, he couldn’t do anything to this repellent bug until he saw the contracts . Soul contracts could be dangerous, and he’d hate to inadvertently hurt the spider sinner. Fizz was already entirely too fond of him for that.

“We don’t deal in souls much, down in Lust,” he said in a low, rumbling voice, “I’d love to have a look at what you put in those contracts of yours. Maybe I can take some notes.”

Valentino’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but it seemed like the overlord was easily flattered by the implication that a Sin was interested in his contracts. It was almost funny, in a pitiful sort of way, how oblivious he was to the danger right before him. 

Beneath the escalating sighs, moans and grunts echoing around the room, the Sin could hear the sound of faint, happy-sounding squeaks. Valentino leant over, and trailed a hand down his arm. Asmodeus forced himself to remain in place, even as every instinct screamed at him to drive his talons into the overlord’s guts and fling him across the room. 

“I think they’re just about finished up here, let's take this to that private meeting you wanted.”

How the demon managed to make literally everything he said into an innuendo was honestly baffling, and this was coming from the Embodiment of Sin himself. He honestly wasn’t sure how a formerly-human soul was even capable of radiating this much lust. It was fucking wasted on a sinner this repellent .

Valentino stood (and there was that unnecessary flash of fishnets again, was the overlord trying to serve himself up on a platter?), and extended a hand to him. He pretended not to notice and stood, extending just a slight bit of his influence to stretch his height even taller. The overlord might be tall, but he towered over him by a good six feet, now. 

This unfortunately had the wrong effect. Rather than Valentino looking at him and seeing the predator he was, the moth sinner just raked his eyes over him in obvious interest. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if the overlord was blind to the murderous intent bubbling under his skin, or had a fucking kink for it.

Asmodeus wasn’t one to kink shame, but he might make an exception for Valentino. The sinner deserved to be shamed.  

“Lead away,” he said.

One extremely awkward elevator ride later (Valentino kept pushing his way into his personal space, entirely too handsy), they made it to the meeting room. Or at least, what apparently passed for a meeting room here in V Tower. The room Valentino had led him to seemed to be more of a private lounge, filled with lush furnishings (and more bloody cameras).

“So, Asmodeus,” the overlord said, stalking towards Asmodeus with carnal intent, “what did you have planned for this little reunión privada of ours?”

With the artful precision born of years of performance, he sidestepped the sinner and spun so he was behind the moth sinner instead, leaning down over his shoulder. “Don’t get too excited,” he drawled, “I may be Lust Incarnate but business comes before pleasure for me.”

The pleasure in this case , he thought with grim satisfaction, would be making Valentino regret every action that ever led him to Hell . The overlord wasn’t to know that, though.

With deliberate dramaticness, he sprawled himself on the plush sofa, then nodded at the seat across from him. “Have a seat.”

Valentino looked a little peeved, but sat, wiping away tge trail of pink-red drool dripping down his chin. “KITTY! Bring us drinks,” he yelled over his shoulder, before fixing those pink eyes back on the Sin. “We can talk business babe, if that’s what you want,” he said, “I’m curious, what made a Sin like yourself want to meet with little old moi?”

“Oh, you sell yourself short,” he purred in response, hating himself for the act he was putting on, “you’ve made quite the name for yourself. Your reputation has spread all the way to Lust.”

A reputation for uninspired pornography and dubious morals, of course. The only saving grace was Angel Dust - the sinner had star power and it shone through even with the uninspired scripts he was subjected to.

“Oh?”

“Oh yes, you’re by far one of the most famous sinners in my ring…alongside that delightful spider sinner of yours.”

There was a minute twitch across Valentino's face, the start twist of a snarl. “Oh, Angel. That lanky bit–” Part way through the sentence, the overlord seemed to suddenly remember who he was talking to. “He’s one of my star performers. I assume you’ve met him at the princesa’s hotel? I hope that he hasn’t been telling any tales .”

Asmodeus had the sense that he was on a tightrope. He thought of the performers downstairs, laced up with chemicals and pheromones, of Charlie’s texts a few days before. Time to find my balance .

“Oh nothing you’d complain about, I’m sure,” he said languidly, making a show of stretching out his long legs and crossing them. He could feel Valentino’s attention waver, following the sensuous line of them. “He mainly just talked about some of the productions he’d done, and how thankful he was that his boss had given him such amazing opportunities.”

Angel Dust had said nothing of the sort, but he watched as Valentino fell for it hook, line and sinker. 

“How darling of him, remind me to give him a reward when I next see him,” Valentino said.

Behind him, there was a sound of metallic footsteps.

“Fucking finally,” the overlord snarled, “next time I call for drinks I expect you to be here immediately .”

Asmodeus turned, expecting to see a sinner, and froze. The moment he processed what he was seeing, he had to dig his talons deep into the flesh of his thighs just below the edge of his boots to stop the snarl that wanted to escape his chest. He could feel heat ripping at his ribcage in a blaze of anger. Valentino had a Robo Fizz . His eyes swept over the feminised form, with its cute little bow and wide grin. He honestly wasn’t sure whether it was possible to hate someone more than he dispised Valentino right now.

I’m going to fucking end him , he thought, and I’m going to make it slow . Blood seeped from the punctures in his legs, the blood running in rivulets into his boots. The warm gush of it was grounding.

“She’s adorable, isn't she?” Valentino said, snatching a crystal tumbler from the offered tray. “A custom order - your factories do excellent work.” 

The overlord paused, cocking his head. “Of course, you have the original flesh-and-blood model to play with,” a pink tongue darted out to lick over his lips, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to lend your imp to me for a night so I can–” the grin widened and pink drool leaked between sharp teeth, “–take him out on a test run.”

His vision whited out in a blaze of rage-pain-frustration as he dug his talons in deeper, feeling them scrape all the way to bone. Only the sharp bite of pain let him keep his iron-clad grip on his temper. Every fibre of his being was screaming from him to leap across the room and tear Valentino’s flesh from bone. 

It had been millenia since he’d tasted the flesh of another demon, but he thought he’d quite like to rip Valentino’s heart out and devour it while the sinner screamed. 

“I’m afraid that I’m quite ṕ͑o̡̦͇s͈ͪͥ̆͞sͪ̇̎͌͘͜ẽ̢̫͕̔̿͒s̻͓̀͗ͮ͒͘͝͠s̛̝̜ͭ̐̏̄̌̅͡i̵͍͎̱̖̙ͭ̃̆ͧͯ͗v̸̙̩͈͇̑̽͗͌̅̒̄̈e̴̮̺͍ͨ̉̉ͨ͂̌ͦ̈́͘͢ of FizzaRolli,” he replied in a voice, a growl rumbling through his chest, “so I’ll have to decline.”

Valentino waved his hand “No worries babe, no need to get feisty. I’m sure Kitty is a decent enough replica.”

I am going to end him, Asmoeus thought with sudden, sharp clarity, and it's not going to be enough to kill him. I am going to rip apart his empire and burn it to the ground, until he begs for mercy . 

Of course, that meant that he was going to have to play nice with this worthless, pestilent caterpillar for longer than he cared for. It would be worth it though.

With rapidfire calculations, he reassessed his plans. He wasn’t usually one for drawn out schemes (not like some of his fellow Sins), but he did know something of taking revenge (even if it had been millennia since he’d acted on the urge). Plus, it seemed like Valentino might genuinely be unaware enough to fall for his comparatively amateur manipulations. 

Time to lay the bait: “I’m interested in expanding my interests beyond the borders of my Ring, and who better than yourself? After all, you and your business partners are quite adept at spreading your influence .” 

It wasn’t even a complete lie - the stranglehold the Vee’s had over the media right across the Rings was undeniable (and more than a little worrying, now he’d met Valentino). 

Valentino’s antenna twitched in interest. It was a tell he’d learnt from Mammon, back before his brother had started wearing that fucking jester get-up and trying to hid his more insect-like features. “Influence isn’t the only thing we like to spread,” he drawled back, letting his legs fall open to reveal fishnets and the hem of a very short black dress.

For fucks sake, couldn’t he just get to the end of this meeting with Valentino without being proposition anymore , he thought plaintively. It was honestly such a shame that the moth sinner was such a fucking shitstain, because he was objectively hot . He honestly couldn’t remember the last time being propositioned had made him want to throw up, but apparently after ten millennia there was still room for new experiences. Joy.

He let his eyes linger on the overlord’s spread legs, because that was what was expected , before drawing them up to meet Valentino’s gaze. “While I appreciate the view, I thought I made it clear that I liked to get my business out of the way before engaging in any…fun.”

The overlord huffed out a petulant sigh. “ Fine , fine. Business it is.” He downed the rest of his drink, and snapped. Kitty was back over with a new drink. Valentino slammed the empty glass down on the tray. The Robo Fizz flinched, and Asmodeus felt something sharp and hot curl in his stomach at the sight.

As a usual rule, he tried hard not to think about what people did with the Robo Fizz’s they brought. Even though they’d stopped production, there were thousands of them out there.

Valentino took a sip of his new drink, eyed the Sin. “You mentioned that you were interested in my contracts?”

Asmodeus felt a burst of relief that the conversation was finally back on solid ground. “Like I said, we don't deal much in souls in Lust, but if we’re going to be business partners I’d like to know what terms your employees are bound to.”

Valentino waved a hand, and a scroll opened in mid air, glowing faintly. “Knock yourself out.”

The Sin leaned toward and took the proffered contract, eyes scanning over the looping scrawl of text, clearly in Valentino's handwriting. The terms of the contract however sounded nothing like the moth overlord, entirely too archaic and formal:

This CONTRACT is made the 14th day of September 2005 between Valentino, named Overlord of Pentagram City (herein-after called the Contractor) and Rosalie Birch (herein-after called the Contractee).

Whereas by birth, ownership of the SOUL belongs to the Contractee, the Contractee does hereby sell, grant and convey unto the Contractor all rights, title and and interest in the SOUL in accordance with the terms outlined in this CONTRACT.

It is hereby agreed as follows:

That the Contractee warrants to the Contractor that the Contractor owns all rights, title and interests in and to the SOUL, and that the SOUL is not subject to any existing lien, claim, or other encumbrances.

That the Contractee makes no other representation or warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the SOUL or its condition, and the Contractee sells and delivers the SOUL to the Contractor, and the Contractor accepts the SOUL ‘as is’. 

That the Contractor warrants to the Contractee that they have thoroughly examined the SOUL, that the Contractor is purchasing the SOUL on reliance upon such examination and testing, that the Contractor is satisfied with the SOUL ‘as is’.

That in exchange for the SOUL, the Contractor will provide to the Contractee SAFE HARBOUR during the yearly Angelic Extermination (herein-after called the Extermination) so long as the SOUL remains in possession of the Contractor, and so long as the Contractee adheres to the conditions of this CONTRACT as outlined below.

That in exchange for the SOUL, the Contractor will provide to the Contractee material POSSESSIONS as required by the Contractee within reason, and ACCOMMODATION within a DWELLING of the Contractor’s choosing, so long as the SOUL remains in possession of the Contractor, and so long as the Contractee adheres to the conditions of this CONTRACT as outlined below.

That in exchange for the the provision of SAFE HARBOUR, POSSESSIONS and ACCOMMODATION, the Contractor has full right and control of the Contractee’s physical BODY while within the aforementioned DWELLING and in other DWELLINGS or BUSINESSES owned by the Contractor, and that the Contractee is required to provide SERVICES such as by be directed by the Contractor.

That should the Contractee fail to provide SERVICES to the Contractor or other PARTY nominated by the Contractor, then as aforementioned in the CONTRACT the Contractor may modify, restrict or remove the provision of SAFE HARBOUR, POSSESSIONS and/or ACCOMMODATION to the Contractee until such time as the Contractor considers appropriate SERVICES have been rendered.

That in the event of the PERMANENT and IRREVERSIBLE DEATH of the Contractor, possession of this CONTRACT will transfer to a THIRD PARTY nominated by the Contractor, who will inherit all RIGHT and RESPONSIBILITIES of the Contractors as previously outlined in this CONTRACT.

That the named THIRD PARTY as aforementioned is Vox, Overlord of Pentagram City and owner of VOXTECH.

In witness whereof, the parties hereunto have set their hands and signatures, and the Contractee and Contractor have executed this CONTRACT on the day and year first mentioned.

The contract was signed in red ink by both Valentino and whoever the poor fucker Rosalie Birch was. 

Asmodeus would bet his own soul that this contract had been drafted by someone other than the moth sinner. His money was on Vox - the TV overlord was notorious for his ruthless, cutthroat business practices and given his own name was included. 

It was also the most predatory soul contract he'd ever seen. While he’d hardly claim to be an expert on deals (as Stolas had pointed out to him at length during that long afternoon of contract negotiation a few months back), he wasn’t an idiot . He might not be the best at reading a five hundred page contract, but this one hadn’t been that long. He could see precisely how the clauses were weighted in Valentino's favour, and worse, he could see how a sinner, desperate for safety, would sign it without a second thought.

“It’s certainly thorough,” he said, and wished he could set it on fire.

He’d bet everything he had that Angel Dust had a contract just like this one, hidden somewhere in the netherspace that Valentino kept his contracts in. This complicated things. If I just kill Valentino, Angel’s contract will just pass over to Vox , he realised with frustration , so either I’m going to have to kill that TV as well, or find another way . It wasn’t just the spider sinner either - those performers were all under contract, all probably just as desperate. Now he knew, he didn’t think he could leave them like this.

Fizz would never forgive him, if he did. 

“Isn’t it just. Makes for some dedicated performers,” the overlord said, bringing him back to the present.

Abruptly, Asmnodeus realised that if he didn’t get out of here soon, his temper was going to snap its restraints and Valentino would be making his debut as a moth-shape bonfire. 

“Well this has been some fascinating food for thought,” he said, levering himself to his feet. He felt abruptly light-headed, the gouges in his thighs aching  (he healed quickly, but not that quickly), “but I really must be going.”

Across from him, Valentino’s eyes widened in surprise and he began to stand himself. “What happened to the pleasure part of ‘business before pleasure’, papi chulo ?”

Asmodeus reached over and pressed the moth sinner firmly to the couch, shaking his head. His mouth was twisted in something that could have been mistaken as a smile but was more of a snarl. “Now now, haven’t you heard of,” he trailed his talons down the overlord’s chest, “building anticipation ?”

He stepped back, amused by the shrill squeaks that erupted from Valentino. “You can’t rush a good thing. I’ll have my people send you a proposal, and we can have a few more private meetings to sort it out, hmm?”

“Oh babe, I you’re talking my language,” Valentino said from his position from the couch, looking flushed. 

With a final glance at the moth overlord, Asmodeus snapped and vanished with a flash of blue fire.

The moment Asmodeus reappeared in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel, he staggered. He felt unwell in ways he hadn’t in an eon. He stared down at his claws, tipped in his own black blood. It had been gold once, so long ago…. 

It had been millennia since anyone in the Lust Ring violated his rules, and he’d gotten complacent. How could he have let such a pestilence bubble it way up into the heart of the Pride Ring? No wonder they all thought he was a joke, sat on his throne of hypocrisy.

“Ozzie, are you okay?”

The rasp of Fizz’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. The imp was sitting on one of the nearby sofas with Angel Dust. The sinner beside looked wan, wrung out and jittery as he eyed Ozzie.

In a few quick, limping strides ( because fuck his legs hurt, holy shit he’d done a number on himself ) he was across the room and scooping Fizz up in a hug. He pressed his forehead desperately against his boyfriend’s scarred one. The tension in his body began to unwind as Fizz wound his tail around his arm.

“Valentino is a fucking prick, Froggie,” he muttered.

“Worse than Mammon?” 

Ozzie hummed a quiet sound of assent. 

“ Fuck .” 

Fuck was right, but that seemed like a distant issue, now he had Fizz in his arms. Though he had the distant sense he was forgetting something–

“I hate to interrupt your rom-com moment, but hows about ya tell me what the fuck you said to my boss?!”

Oh. Right. That was what he’d forgotten. 

Shit.

Chapter Text

“I hate to interupt your rom-com moment, but hows about ya tell me what the fuck you said to my boss?!”

Angel Dust’s words were sharp, their edges tinged in panic. There was a long moment of silence as sinner and Sin regarded each other. The spider demon had stood up from the sofa, and his chest was heaving as though he’d run a marathon, his secondary eyes blazing with fury. However even as he watched, Angel Dust began to sink in on himself, as the realisation of who he’d just yelled at sunk in.

“I mean, no offence to–” the sinner began to say, but Ozzie waved him off.

“No, no, you’re right to yell,” he said, finally giving in to the desire to rub his face with one hand. It didn’t actually do anything to relieve the headache that was beginning to creep in at the edges, but the placebo effect was a hell of a thing. Around his neck he felt Fizz shift, his robotic hands beginning to tub soothing circles onto his shoulders.

Angel Dust meanwhile looked like someone had hit him over the head with a brick, eyes wide with disbelief. Given what he’d seen of his boss, he guessed he wasn’t used to people actually agreeing he should be upset. Still staring at Ozzie, he slowly sank back onto the sofa, eyeing him warily.

 Ozzie sighed. “Look, in hindsight me going off and talking to Valentino without the consent of both yourself and Charlie was fucked,” he said, feeling the weight of this day hit him (and it wasn’t even mid afternoon yet), “which is goddamn ironic given my whole thing is consent.”

Angel Dust frowned at him. “Wait, Charlie didn’t know you were planning this?” 

“Beyond me deciding to visit after she told me what happened in the studio? No,” he replied. 

“Shit,” Angel Dust groaned, “I think I messed up. I really lost it at her earlier, thought she was goin’ behind my back.”

With the height difference exacerbated, Ozzie suddenly felt like he was looming over the sinner. With a grimace (fuck his legs were sore) he collapsed down onto the sofa across from Angel Dust. He took a breath, tried to decide what to say, then: “Charlie will understand if you tell her that. She’s a good kid.”

Angel Dust shot him a shaky smile. “Yeah she is. It’s just- fuck, I’m so goddamn scared of what Val is gonna do.” 

“I can promise you, I haven’t made things worse. Having met Valentino, I understand why–”

Angel Dust choked out a strangled laugh, interrupting him. “Yeah fuckin’ right, what would a Sin like you understand?” The sinner’s voice had gone high-pitched and abrasive, stress bleeding out of every syllable. “You have no idea how terrifyin’ he can be.”

Which was admittedly a fair point, he thought. Fuck .

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “I didn’t mean to distress you, but clearly I fucked that up. if you give me a chance I’ll tell you what happened.”

Angel Dust gave a short, sharp nod, then looked at him consideringly: “This a conversation I need a drink for?” The sinner gestured over to the bar on the other side of the room and Ozzie realised with surprise that the cat sinner – Husk wasn’t it? – was watching them with a calculating expression on his face. Huh.

“Honestly? That seems like a great idea,” he replied. He was feeling wound up like a spring, and that idea of a drink seemed like a smell reprieve in this shitshow of a day.

“Oi Whiskers, hows’ aboutcha bring over a few bottles of beezlejuice and join us?” Angel Dust called out, batting his eyes in the direction of the bar.

“For the last time, stop callin’ me that,” the bartender grumbled, but despite the prickly exterior Ozzie could hear the genuine fondness in his voice as he grabbed a few bottles and headed over.

Shortly, they were all convened at the small cluster of sofas– Ozzie and Fizz curled together on one, Husk and Angel Dust on the other, sitting at either end of their own sofa (the spider sinner kept encroaching on Husk’s space, to Husk’s grumbling and supposed annoyance– which would have been convince had his tail not been trapped across Angel Dust’s lap). They all had their drinks before them, and Ozzie’s first few sips of beezlejuice were a vivid relief to the Sin.

Compared to the average demon, his tolerance was skyhigh, but it was still nice . Made him miss Bee all the more though. He hoped that she decided to take him up on his suggestion of a visit (though perhaps in a few weeks, he was already beginning to regret telling Lucy to come tomorrow).

“So…” Angel Dust began, eyes fixed anywhere but on Ozzie. “What’s the deal with you and Val?”

Ozzie opened his mouth to respond, then froze. He thought back to the cameras he’d seen at V Tower, the strange ever present feeling of being watched. One of the Vee’s was that tv-headed sinner, Vox, right? What were the chances that he could use technology to watch them right now? He knew for a fact he had a phone in his pocket.

“Before we say anything more – are there any cameras in this house? Or any other that we’re being listened to?”

There was a crackle of static from directly beside him, and then a crisp trans-atlantic accented voice rang out: “I assure you my good man, there is not a trace of VokTek in this hotel.” 

Ozzie flinched, turning to see that Alastor had materialised out of shadow to lean against the back of the sofa. The overlord seemed as put together as always.

“That f̄l̿a̅t̳̠-̄̅f̳͞a̲̿͞c̠̿͟e̳̳̿d̳̲̅ ̲̳̿w̠̅͟a̳̿͞s̱̅͟ṯ̳͞e̱̿͞ ̲̿̿o̲͟͞f̱̿͟ ̱̿̿e̠̳̅ḻ̠̲e̳̅̄c̄͞t̅͟o̲̅n̿i̲c̄s, Vox, cannot see or hear anything within the walls of this hotel.”

Oh thank fuck. Apparently the Radio Demon was good for something.

He turned back to Angel Dust. “Now that’s sorted– Angel, your boss siċ̜̬̿̕k̟̪̮͋ͧ̽̎ͥ͡ȇ̶̢̳ͪ͝ns me,” he growled, feeling his mane begin to spark into flame, “Over the millennia, I have met countless sick, twisted freaks , but that b͚̭̤̤ͦ̐ͧ̇̂̄͡a̵̸̴͓̙̰̗̪̣ͪ́͌̓̾̚͠s̙̙͕̣ͮ͊̈́̃̕͟͟tard is the first that made me want to puke .”

Just the thought of Valentino had him digging his claws into the upholstery of the sofa. “If I’d had my way, his entrails would be coating the walls of his porn studio right now.”

There was a long pause, Husk and Angel Dust staring at him with wide eyes. Even Alastor looked interesting, leaning backwards over the back of the sofa at a disconcerting aganle to stare at him.

Eventually someone had to break the silence.

“Umm, but they ain’t, right?” Angel Dust asked hesitantly. “Not that I care if he dies, but I think my phone would be blowin’ up if he was dead.”

“Oh he’s still alive…for now. I didn’t touch the bastard.” More’s the pity. “He’s under the impression I met with him to discuss a business deal, and he thinks that you’ve done nothing but sing his praises since I arrived at this hotel.”

At that, Angel Dust finally relaxed, slumping back into his seat. “I mean, that’s something, I guess?”

From his perch against the sofa, Alastor interjected. “Hmmm, if that’s the case, why do you smell of blood?”

“ Blood? ” Fizz asked, voice strangled. 

Oh shit , he thought, as Fizz went straight beside him. Before he had a chance to say anything, Fizz was straddling him and gently patting him all over, searching for injuries. 

“Oh yes, he reeks of it. It’s fresh as well!” Alastor said in a chipper tone. “It smells quite delicious.”

That statement was met with a groan from Husk, who up to this point had been playing the silent observer. “Christ, Al. You had to make this weird.”

“Oh Husker, my dear, I am a cannibal after all,” the overlord responded. “It's in my nature.”

Ignoring this exchange, Fizz grabbed his hand in his own much smaller ones, and eyed the bloodstained claw tips with concern. “Babe, what the fuck did you do to yourself?” Then realisation sunk in, and Fizz moved off to the side, running gentle hands over his legs. Despite the gentle touch, he flinched. “Oh no,” Fizz said, voice suddenly gentle with understanding, “you did it again, didn’t you?”

His boyfriend knew him far too well. 

He let out a bitter huff of laughter, letting his head fall back. “I couldn't afford to lose my temper, Froggy. It’ll heal.”

The imp made an unhappy expression, then sighed. “We’ll deal with it later, I guess.”

“Wait, are ya saying you fuckin’ sliced up your own legs to keep from losin’ your temper at Val?” Angel Dust asked. “I mean I appreciate it, Val woulda found a way to blame me for his idol losin’ it at him, but why?”

His idol, huh? Well that explained at least some of the overlord’s behaviour - if he was starstruck then maybe that was why he’d seemed so oblivious to the malice radiating off him.

“Well at the time, it was the only thing that would stop me ripping his head off,” Ozzie said as flippantly as he could muster, “since apparently he thinks parading his personal Robo Fizz in front of me and asking to borrow Fizz for a test run is how you do business.”

Beside him Fizz grimaced. “What is it with these sick fuckos and Robo Fizz’s?? Thank fuck we’ve stopped production of them.”

Angel meanwhile groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Goddamn Val..” he muttered.

“As for why I didn’t rip his head off - because this situation is bigger than my own vengeance,” Ozzie  explained, “Valentino is an insult to everything I stand for, but I’ve been so focused on my own Ring that he’s had time to become entrenched, so killing him outright wouldn’t fix the root of the problem.”

The spider demon’s face had morphed into shell shocked expression as Ozzie continued to talk, like he couldn’t quite believe he was hearing this.

“But I promise you, I will not let you be harmed while I find a solution.” He slid off the sofa to kneel in front of the sinner, ignoring the pain in his legs. Kneeling like this, their eyes were almost level. “And I would be honoured if you would help me achieve this.”

Angel Dust blinked at him, and then burst into tears. Beside him, Husk froze for a moment before awkwardly wrapping an arm around Angel Dust’s shoulders. The spider sinner clearly took this as permission, because he buried his face into the fluff of the other demon’s chest. Ozzie watched with a mixture of concern and amusement at the way the bartender’s eyes widened with a look that screamed ‘ what do I do??’ .

Ozzie rose to his feet, grimacing as his legs twinged in discomfort. “So…” he said, not quite sure what to say given Angel Dust was still sobbing. In hindsight, that had  been pretty overwhelming to just drop on the sinner. “I’ll just- go and give you some space to think about this?” 

There was no response from Angel Dust, which was fair enough.

Ozzie eyed the stairs, then decided that it wasn’t worth it. With a wave of his hand a portal opened to his suite. Between one breath and the next, Fizz slinkied his way through the portal ahead of him. Beyond the swirl of magic, he could hear the quieves begin to buzz with excitement at Fizz’s approach. Nodding to Husk and Alastor (who was still watching this all play out like it was his own personal tele-drama), he stepped through the portal.

“Fuuuuck this day, Froggie,” he groaned into the pillows. 

The moment Ozzie had stepped into the suite, he ‘d flung himself like starfish face-first onto the bed. It hadn’t exactly been kind on his legs, but that was beside the point. He felt like Satan had tricked him into sparring again - every part of him felt sore. Apparently he’d been more stressed than he realised, because the moment he had actually relaxed it hit him like a freight train.  Honestly, taking a nap for a few centuries sounded like a really nice plan right now. 

That wasn’t to be though, because barely a minute went by before Fizz extended one arm to poke him on the check. “Hey now, no sleeping yet. We gotta get those legs of yours fixed up.”

Ozzie made a wordless groan, but rolled over, one arm flung over his face “Do we have  to? I’m sure they’ll be fine eventually?”

Fizz laughed, throwing himself onto the bed beside him. “What do you always say when I tell you that?”

“‘ There’s no point putting a problem off if you can fix it today’ ,” he muttered, “though I’d argue that was meant to be about fixing your limbs when something breaks, not some scratches that’ll heal on their own.”

Fizz made a supremely unimpressed sound, and Ozzie knew he’d already lost the argument.

“...fine. I might need help getting the boots off though.”

Fizz hopped off the bed, running a hand down his side as he approached his feet. “Oh big daddy, you coulda’ just said you want me to strip you,” he said, almost purring as he began to gently pull the first boot off. 

Ozzie sat up to watch him, and they both grimaced as  took into the congealed black blood running down the length of his leg, almost invisible against the dark tone of his skin. The gouges themselves had mostly healed but they’d been deep enough that it was taking more time than usual. The boot, meanwhile, was probably a lost cause.

Fizz pulled the second boot off, and without having to be asked, Ozzie conjured a bowl of water and some soft rags. The imp set to work cleaning the wounds. It made his heart hurt a bit to see those practised motions, because it made him realise how many times his boyfriend had done this for him now. It wasn’t exactly a healthy coping mechanism, but it was hard to take the damage seriously when you healed as quickly as he did.

 It was the first time anyone else had noticed, though.

Eventually they got his legs cleaned and  bandaged, and they curled up on the bed together. The quieves surrounded them in a warm, buzzing pack. Fizz lay on his chest, face buried in the fluff off his chest. The imp’s tail was wound around his arm, and he was distractedly rubbing circles on the spade. It was a scene that had played out at home a hundred times before. Not for the first time, he wondered how he’d gotten so lucky. He certainly didn’t deserve Fizz. but now they were together he would make the most of every moment they had. 

He treasured moments like this. Everyone expected him to be sex, sex, sex , but after millennia of that it got dull. The intimacy of curling up with someone you love was so beautifully novel. Lying here, time seemed to pass like molasses. He let his breath slow and fall into time with Fizz’s own breaths. 

He’d almost dozed off when Fizz spoke, raspy voice barely audible from where his face was resting. 

“Did that overlord really ask to fuck me?”

It took a long few moments for him to respond as he struggled up towards wakefulness, but the question was so far out of left field that Ozzie choked, propping himself up to stare down at his boyfriend.

“He did…?”

Fizz nodded into his chest. “...thanks for saying no.”

“What–? Babe, of course I said no.”

The imp mumbled something into the fluff of his chest that he couldn’t quite make out.

“What was that?’

“...I said, Mammon would have,” the imp replied, “or at least he'd've considered it.”

Ozzie reached out to rub Fizz’s back, even as he made a non-committal noise. “I’m not sure he would’ve, is the thing. Mam’s a greedy cunt, but he doesn't pimp his people out.” He paused, imagining how that interaction would go.”...also I think he’d probably dropkick Valentino if he ever met him.”

“Valentino that bad?”

“Yeah…Honestly I have no idea how Angel Dust has made it – what, fifty years? – under that bastard’s thumb.”

Fizz hissed in a breath, pushing himself up to meet his gaze. “So worse than the shit Mammon put me through?”

He paused, trying how to word what he was about to say. What Fizz had gone through under contract with Mammon… he hadn’t been there for all of it, but what he had seen had been wretched. But the thing was, Mam was a bastard, sure, but he had his limits. Beyond the Robo Fizz’s and a few Fizz Brand sex toys, he hadn’t messed around anywhere near the porn industry or sex work. 

The cynical part of Ozzie wanted to say it was just because the other Sin knew how angry he’d get, but that wasn’t true. Ten millennia, and it had been a boundary Mammon hadn’t crossed. That had to mean something.

The thought of Fizz under contract to someone like Valentino…he had a fair idea how much worse it could have been.

He moved his hand to cup Fizz’s face, rubbing a thumb across his scarred brow. The imp made a rumbling sound and pressed his face into the touch. Goddamnity= he was cute .

  “...it’s not a competition Froggy,” he said softly, “and the both of you have gone through hell, but– Angel Dust is still in his.” 

He sighed, looking away from his partner’s gaze. “Put it this way – Valentino messes with some shit Mammon would never touch in a thousand years.”

Fizz made an unhappy sound, his tail wrapping tighter around Ozzie’s other arm. “But if he died, Angel would be free, right?”

“I wish, I got a look at one of his contracts and he has a fucking backup clause in them in case he dies, so the contracts aren’t broken, just transferred.”

There was silence for a long moment, then: “Well shit , I think I was a jerk earlier,” Fizz said, clambering upright to sit himself cross legged on his chest. 

Ozzie grinned at him, collapsing back into the pillows and chuckling as the imp nearly toppled off. 

“I mean–” he began in a teasing tone.

Fizz waved a hand, cutting him off. “I know, I know, I’m always a jerk.” 

Then he sighed, looking pensive. “But when you were out, Angel didn’t handle things so great- he had a panic attack and we kinda shared some of our trauma? I was just trying to relate, but knowing all this..I must have sounded horrible.”

Ozzie winced, though he tried his best not to show it. He would imagine how that would have gone down, but Angel Dust certainly hadn’t looked angry at Fizz earlier…

“Well that doesn’t sound like anything an apology couldn’t fix? I get the impression he’s playing his cards pretty close to his chest about how bad his situation is,” he replied. He didn’t blame the sinner for that – if you were stuck in a contract like that, there wasn’t much complaining to others could do. You’d just have to grin and bear it for as long as you could.

“I’ll see if I can find him later, don’t want to bother him too soon after this morning.”

“You’re a good person Fizz,” he said softly, and watched as the imp flushed red. “And it seems like I’m in the same boat, because I also need to apologise to Charlie…”

Fizz nodded in agreement. “Ya know, I’d kinda assumed you and Charlie were talking about your plans this morning. You were gone for ages.”

He groaned, covering his face with an arm again. “I mean– fuck , if I’d been thinking I would’ve. You know how I get – I  had all these plans lined up in my head, but I forgot I hadn’t talked to her about it.”

The imp snorted. “Don’t I know it! Seems like the two of you have that in common– Husk was saying that apparently she forgot to tell anyone you were coming till the day before.”

Well that seemed on brand , he thought. This goddamn family, they were all as bad as each other. Which was impressive, given the only two of them that actually shared a blood relation were Lucifer and Charlie. Maybe it was just something about angelic blood - all of them forgetful, impulsive bastards. 

“So…Angel said he got upset at Charlie. How bad was it?”

“...well, I mean– it coulda been worse? He was yelling at her about boundaries, and even if she didn’t send you to talk to Val, I get how spilling his personal business would make him upset,” he paused “She obviously just wanted to help. Honestly that’s another thing that apparently runs in the family.”

“You say that like its a bad thing…” he joked, then frowned as Fizz was suspiciously silent.

“Froggy…?”

“Look…” Fizz began, a somewhat apologetic tone to his voice, “you get real over protective of me. And it's sweet! I know you just want to help, but it can be a bit smothering sometimes.”

He made an indignant expression, half sitting up again to look at Fizz. “Froggie, the last time you went out you were kidnapped !” he protested.

“I mean, yes–” Fizz replied, gesturing wildly with his arms, “but if I hadn’t been, Blitzø and I would never have talked.” 

His expression softened. “It was scary and painful, sure… but it was also important ,” he said, leaning forward to bump his forehead against Ozzie’s. “You can’t protect everyone you love from every hurt in the world. You gotta let them make their own decisions - just because you think your ideas are the best for them doesn’t mean you can take away the choice .”

At that, Ozzie wrapped his arms around Fizz, pressing them close together even as his mind raced, processing his partner’s words. The thought of anything happening to Fizz, or to Charlie for that matter, terrified him. He just wanted them to be safe. But Fizz had made a valid point. Sometimes he did have a tendency to rush ahead with plans without consulting people, no matter how much his actions ended up hurting them. Speaking of which–

“...so it was probably a mistake that I invited Lucifer over tomorrow, wasn’t it?”

There was a long pause, and then Fizz burst into hysterical laughter, wriggling so hard in the cage of Ozzie arm’s that he slipped out and rolled off his chest to land on the bed. There was a startled buzz of outrage from the quieves as they dodge out of his flailing limbs, which only made Fizz laugh. It was so infectious that Ozzie found himself laughing as well, a relief to the tension that had built all at once.

Eventually, Fizz got himself under control, and propped himself up to look at Ozzie. “Fuckssake babe, you have awful timing. Yeah that wasn’t the best choice, any chance you can reschedule?”

“Not if I want him to drown himself in a bathtub of ducks. I don’t know if he could deal with the rejection at this point.”

“...that is both terrifying and oddly specific.”

“Oh you have no idea.” This goddamn day…he’d had such a firm idea of how it would play out in his mind, only for nothing to go as expected. 

Sighing, he pulled out his phone. “Well there’s nothing for it– I better tell Charlie we need to talk.”

Three dots popped up a second later, before disappearing and then popping up again several more times. There was a long delay and then:

At that Ozzie tossed the phone aside, and turned over so he lay facing Fizz. 

“Seems like we’ve got a bit of time to kill…” he said, reaching out pull the imp closer to him, “how about we take a nap?”

“Oh fuck yes.”

Chapter Text

Ozzie stood outside the door, fist hovering just above the wood. He’d been standing there for almost a minute now. Pull it together Asmodeus, you’re a freaking Sin, you can go apologise to your niece , he thought, willing himself to just knock. It was hard, though. Today had been an emotional roller coaster, and all he wanted was to go back to bed, but that wasn’t an option today. There were some things you shouldn’t shelve for another day. He’d always been a proponent of never going to bed angry or upset, and this day couldn’t end until he’s cleared the air with Charlie.

Heaving in a deep breath, he knocked on the door. Time to face the music.

There was a long pause, and the door swung open to reveal Vaggie on the other side. She looked him up and down, quirking an eyebrow. “Well you look like shit,” she said, then looked horrified, “I mean- uh, sir–”

“Oh I know I do,” he said with a wry grin. “No harm in calling it like it is.”

Vaggie blushed, but nodded., which was progress of a sort. Maybe by the end of the trip, she’d stop looking like he was a bomb she’d been asked to defuse. 

“ Um, come in? Charlie’s ready to talk to you now,” she said, avoiding making eye contact. It wasn’t exactly hard - she was definitely on the short side. It was another thing he was adding to his tally of suspicions about her, though it was more circumstantial than the rest.

He stepped inside the room and had to fight back a grimace at the blatant assault on his senses from the decor. Heavens above, I miss Lust . Some really needed to introduce Pride to colours other than red . This Ring didn’t seem to believe in soothing colour palettes, and this room was no exception.

 It was pretty clear that the room was decorated in the standard of the hotel, and looking around he couldn’t see much of Charlie in the decor. Everything screamed Lucifer– the circus-esque canopied bed, the serpent and apple blankets, and even the overwhelming redness of it all. Charlie may have inherited some of Lucifer’s appalling decorating tastes, but he’d seen her room back in the palace. There had been colours other than red and gold, for one thing.

 He’d bet his factories’ earnings for the last year that she’d been spending so much energy trying to make the hotel perfect for sinners that she hadn’t taken the time to make a space of her own. As for Vaggie,’s part in this,  he didn’t know her well enough to know for certain. However, he suspected she leaned more toward the minimalist route when it came to her living spaces. Whether that was by choice or something else he didn’t know – he had an inkling of her situation, but that wasn’t really a conversation for almost strangers. Though if she lived with Charlie long enough, maybe his niece would win her over to maximalism! Charlie was like a magpie sometimes when it came to cute things (for a given definition of cute, it was Hell after all).

Charlie herself was sitting on a large curved window seat, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It was hard to see but he thought she was wearing her suit although it had a rumpled quantity to it now. Her hair was askew, all flyaway hairs and escaping curls. His fingers itched to smooth it down, maybe even put a cute braid or ten in it. When Charlie had been very small, he’d spent hours playing with her hair and putting it into ever more increasingly complex arrangements. Lilith and Lucifer had been terribly bemused by it, but it had meant a free babysitter so they’d just shrugged and gone about their days with minimal teasing.

“Hey Charbear, how are you doing?” he called out, edging closer to her.

“Hey,” she said, voice watery. “You wanted to talk?”

Charlie met his gaze and he winced at her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy face – much like her father, Charlie was not a pretty crier. (Unlike Lilith, who could cry you a river and then look perfectly composed afterwards, which had always seemed unfair to him given that she’d started out human and Lucifer was literally made of divine starstuff.)

“Yeah,” he said, then hesitated, “can I come sit down? I don’t want to loom over you.”

Charlie giggled wetly and patted the window seat. He made his way over and sat, surreptitiously making himself just a little bit smaller. There were some conversations where he wanted to take up as little space as possible, and this was one of them.

Still standing by the door, Vaggie fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, looking between them. “So I’m just…gonna go,” she said, beginning to edge out of the room.

“You can stay if Charlie wants–” he began, but Vaggie was already shaking her head.

“No, Charlie told me she has this, so I’ll leave you to it,” she said, the final few words almost blurring together with how rapidly she said them. Then she vanished out the door with impressive speed before he could even reply. 

Ozzie glanced over to Charlie. “So…I think your girlfriend is a little scared of me,” he said, bemused.

“Well you are a Sin,” she said, then shook her head, “I think it's more that you’re the first member of the family she’s met. I’ve been trying to take things slow, ease her into it…”

Fuck , he thought, well I’ve just blown that plan out of the water . One more thing for him to apologise for, he guessed. 

“So Charlie…” he began, but she shook her head. 

“Is it– would it be okay if I talked, first?” she said hesitantly. “It’s just that, well… I talked some things over with Vaggie–” It was clear she wanted to say more, but she cut herself off, waiting for a reply. Her eyes were firmly fixed on a far point in the room, and she had her hands clasped tightly in front of her.

“Go ahead?” he said, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.

“So you know me, I don’t really like to criticise people, but…” she trailed off, worrying her lips between her teeth.

“ Alright Charlie, you can say this ,” she muttered to herself, before squaring her shoulders and looking at him, “Uncle Ozzie, I’m really upset that you went and talked to Valentino without telling me first. I know that you probably meant well, but…”

“But I overstepped,” he finished for her.

“Yeah.” She looked away again, pressing her clasped hands hard against her thighs.

His own hands curled sympathetically, rubbing over his things where the claw marks had been. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was that Charlie hadn’t inherited the worst of their family’s self-destructive tendencies. She might work herself too hard, but it was better than the alternatives that both her father and the rest of the Sins often gave into.

He reached out and laid his own hand over hers, rubbing his thumb over the white-knuckled contours of bone. “I’m sorry.” 

“You are?” she said, looking back up at him. Her eyes had welled up, and she was making no effort to hide the way the tears were beginning to spill down her cheeks. 

“Oh sweetheart, of course I am– both Fizz and Angel Dust have pointed out how much of a bumbling fool I’ve been,” he said wryly. “When you texted, I got it into my head that you were asking for a solution, not just advice,” he continued, “things have been… complicated since Mammon’s showcase, and I got so caught up thinking about how I could fix this for you that I didn’t ask you want you wanted.”

Charlie gave a half-hearted chuckle, lips twitching into a hesitant smile. “You meant well?”

“I did, but your Uncle Ozzie is a bit of an idiot,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I really am sorry Charlie.”

“I know that,” she replied, finally unclenching her hands, though the tension remained in her shoulders.

“It’s just– it really hurt to have Angel be so angry with me. I’ve tried really really hard to work on boundaries, and I’m worried that I’ve broken that trust…” 

Her voice was so sincere and so filled with pain that he felt his own eyes tear up in sympathy. “Hey now, I’ve talked to Angel and I think he gets that it was me overstepping the mark, not you. We had a big talk about what went down and he was- well, not less upset, but he understood, more.”

Charlie nodded slowly, clearly turning that over in her head. “I guess that makes sense…”

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she latched onto the elephant in the room. “So what did happen with Angel’s boss?”

“It’s a bit of a long story but–” Ozzie gave her the skeleton structure of his meeting with Valentino, though he closed over some of the more… unpleasant details (like the request to borrow Fizz or the self-injury situation). By the end of it, Charlie looked both disgusted but also somewhat thoughtful.

“Okay, I kind of get why you were so adamant about teaching him a lesson,” she admitted, “that all sounds super gross and it would be great if he couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

“I mean– that’s not–” he shook his head, withdrawing his hand to run it through his mane in a sharp, frustrated motion. He could feel his bull and ram heads reacting to the uncomfortable bubble of his emotions, mouths turning downward. It would be easy, to let her think that he’s been noble about this, but he really hadn’t.

“I love that you see the best in people, but Charlie…” he huffed out a frustrated sigh, looking away. 

“I wish I’d had noble intentions when I left this morning,” he admitted haltingly, hating himself for every word even if it was true, “but I didn’t. I was just angry that some sinner had decided to treat you the way he had, and I wasn’t thinking about the consequences on anyone else, including you.”

“But you changed your mind,” Charlie said, voice filled with forceful warmth that had him looking back at her with wide eyes. Her expression had transformed from weepy-eyed sadness to a fierce earnestness that took him by surprise. “You made a choice, that’s what’s important!”

Of course this was her reaction . Despite himself, a smile tugged on his lips. “You’re a good person, you know that?” he said with a touch of wonder in his voice. “I’m still sorry, though.”

Charlie laughed. “That’s okay, I think I can forgive you for that if you promise to try better next time,” she said seriously. Then without warning, she launched herself towards him, wrapping her arms around him. 

“ Can we be done being upset now? This sucks ,” she mumbled into his midsection.

He laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Deal. I promise I’ll try better.” 

For a moment he wished he could leave the conversation there. It would be easy in some ways to just do that, to text Lucifer and say ‘let’s postpone’. But that would just be trading one hurt for another – saving himself from upsetting Charlie just to reject his brother.

He gave Charlie a squeeze, then gently pushed himself back so he could make eye contact. “I know you wanted to be done, but there’s something else…” he began.

She shot him a quizzical expression, a small frown line creasing her brow. “What do you mean? You’ve already told me that you went and got yourself involved in a plot to take down one of the most prominent overlords in Hell, what else could there be?”

Ozzie paused for a long moment, trying to figure out how to put this delicately. 

“Well?” Charlie said, impatience bleeding into her voice. 

“I invited Lucifer over tomorrow.” The words escaped his mouth in a rush, as though if he threw them out fast enough, he could somehow skip over the annoyance he suspected was coming next. It was clear that Charlie was protective of this project, he knew she wasn’t going to be happy with Lucifer showing up in the middle of it.

“...what?” Charlie’s expression was unreadable, suddenly a blank slate devoid of emotion. 

“I went to see him before I went to the meeting with–” he began in his most soothing tone, feeling a chill go down his spine as he realised he may have misjudged the situation very, very badly.

“No, I heard you,” she said, her voice suddenly very tight as she pushed herself away from him completely, scrambling to her feet. The blank mask of her face was crumbling into something jagged and wounded. “Why would you do that?”

“You said you hadn’t seen him in a while,” he replied, confusion bleeding into his voice. When they’d talked this morning, they’d skirted around the topic of Lucifer over the course of that hour, and he’d thought he’d understood. He’d know she was frustrated with Lucifer, that she missed him, that things between Charlie and Lucifer were rough, but this wasn’t–

“I said that, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to force him to visit me!” she snapped, horns manifesting and hair flying free. “He doesn’t want to see me! If he promised to visit it's because you guilt-tripped him into coming.” 

Ozzie thought of Lucifer this morning, saying ‘She wouldn’t want her old man getting in the way’ , with such sincerity that it had almost broken his heart to hear it. Lucifer was desperate to see his daughter, how could she not know that?

“Charlie –” 

“NO! Stop it. I know you were trying to help again , but Dad doesn’t want anything to do with me. He doesn’t care about what I’m working on, and he doesn’t care about me !” Charlie had fully manifested now, tail lashing behind and eyes burning. Her voice sounded like it was being torn out of her, every word like a gaping wound bleeding out.

“That’s not true–”

“–then why doesn’t he come and see me?” she interrupted, her voice raw with emotion. “Sure he calls sometimes, but only when he’s bored . He never–” she threw her hands up, growling in frustration, beginning to pace back and forth across the room. “–he never listens when I tell him what I’m doing, he just tells me he needs me to do something and then he goes back to ignoring me.”

She paused, looking up at a painting on the wall. It was a portrait of herself with Lucifer and Lilith, a snapshot of an earlier, happier time. When she spoke again her voice was quieter but no less pained. “...at least when Mum was still here, he pretended that he loved me.”

“Oh Charbear,” he breathed, standing and walking towards her until he was close enough to touch. He didn’t though, just stood nearby. “Luce loves you so much . There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do for you. He would raze Hell and burn Heaven to the ground for you if you asked.”

She whirled away from him, pacing back in the direction of the window seat. “Well if he cares so much, why can’t he show me that??” she snapped back at him with a snarl. “He doesn’t even bother to visit me?!”

“Have you ever asked him to?” he replied, keeping his voice level. 

“ Yes !” she growled, then paused, looking genuinely confused.

“Well– sort of? And when he called a few months back I kept telling him about the hotel and how much it’s changed and that he should see how much work I’ve done…” she trailed off, shoulders slumping.

“I guess technically I haven’t invited him…” her voice turned defensive as she glared at him, “but he could have suggested it, or asked me to visit him? Why is it my fault if I didn’t reach out? He’s my dad .”

Ozzie sighed, feeling every bit as ancient as he was at that moment. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, Charlie. Or if I was, it would be your dad’s fault as well. It’s just that–” he trailed off. 

The words to explain escaped him. He’d never had to spell out Lucifer’s situation to anyone else before. Most people, when they spent more than a few minutes in his presence, got the jist of it pretty quickly. He could see now how it was different for Charlie, though. She’d grown up with Lucifer, and familiarity could be blinding. 

He guessed that by the time she’d been old enough to really understand the truth of it, there’d been so much distance between her and her father that she only saw what she’d been taught to see– a father with no time for his daughter, consumed by his own whims and without enough love to share. Not for the first time, Ozzie wondered if he could have done things differently when the rift between Lillith and Lucifer first started. Maybe then their daughter wouldn’t have been a casualty of their own slowly dissolving marriage. Maybe then–

“For fucks sake Uncle Ozzie, just say what you’re going to say. I know you’re going to defend him, alright? I get it, you might be my uncle, but he’s your brother, of course you’re going to take his side,” she said bitterly, finally sitting back down on the window seat turning her back on him to stare out the window over Pride.

Sighing, he came to sit down beside his niece, staring out the window alongside her. “Charlie…your dad– he’s not doing great, alright?”

Outside the city was in chaos – maybe not as much as it would be on Extermination Day, but enough. The faint sound of screams and gunfire made its way through the glass, and far off in the distance he could see smoke rising. It was such a stark contrast to the other Rings. Even Greed, with its endless mob families and crime, had a sort of order to it that the Pride Ring did not. It seemed like a metaphor for Lucifer himself - the King of Hell was in shambles and therefore so too was the Ring he called home. Maybe it wasn’t even a metaphor – Hell had a certain metaphysical link that couldn’t quite be defined, and Lucifer was Hell, at least in part.  

There was a long silence as Charlie took in what he’d said. “I don’t– what do you mean?” she finally asked.

“Lucifer…your dad, he has a problem believing that the people he loves really want him around,” he explained, thinking back over the last ten millennia. “Sometimes…when things get real dark for him, he isolates himself away from everyone, and the longer we go without reaching out, the more he believes he’s right.”

Charlie made a strange, strangled noise. “That’s– I– you’re saying that Dad is depressed ?”

He blew out a breath, trying to release some of the tension coiling in his chest. “I don’t think he’s ever gotten within a hundred feet of a diagnosis, but that’s the closest word I have for it, yeah.”

He turned then, and the look on Charlie’s face was heartbreaking. She was staring fixedly out the window, tears leaking from her eyes in a steady stream she didn’t even seem aware of.

“Why wouldn’t he say something, if that’s what’s going on?” she said finally, voice catching on the words.

“Because he doesn’t want to be a burden to you, to any of us,” he said sadly.

“Your dad isn’t perfect– you’re entitled to be angry with him, to be mad that he hasn’t been there for you. I just want you to understand, because I don’t think he knows how to explain it.”

“I think I understand, it’s just a lot…” Charlie said quietly. The anger seemed to have finally left her voice, and in its place was a bone-deep exhaustion that he sympathised with.

“If I’d realised what problems I’d be causing inviting him…” he shook his head, frowning, “I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done it, but I would’ve put it off till later.” He glanced at her then and saw she’d finally turned to look at him with a strange, contemplative expression. “I can still try if you really want me to?” 

Charlie shook her head. “No…it’ll be like ripping off the bandaid,” she said, clearly trying to will her voice into her normal optimistic cheer. “I know it doesn’t sound like it, but I did want him to see the hotel at some point. Sure I wanted it to be after I’d already proved it could work, but I guess we can make it work?” By the final word, she almost sounded like herself.

“Atta girl,” he said, proud. “I am sorry though, I really brought chaos into your life with this visit.”

“Honestly it’s nothing but chaos here,” she replied, already seeming to perk up a bit, “Alastor thrives on it.”

“He’s certainly…interesting?” That was one word for it, anyway . “I’m relatively sure that he’d bone me like a chicken and eat me, though, given the chance.”

Charlie snorted, “Bone you? Really ?” she asked with amused disgust.

“I’ll have you know I wasn’t even trying to make that an innuendo, it just happens,” he defended himself. 

“ Suuuure ,” she said with a grin, and it was like the sun merging from behind clouds, all the tension melting away in the room. “So when is Dad coming over, anyway?” she asked, and he froze.

“Ummm…”

“Wait, you invited him over and didn’t even tell him when ?” she asked, incredulous.

“I was distracted? I can give him a text, tell him when–”

“No, I’ll do it,” she said, pulling out her phone, “maybe if it comes from me, he’ll actually show up to see me.”

He could hear the thread of frustration in her voice despite the deceptively cheerful tone, but after this conversation, he couldn’t blame her. He watched as with a few quick taps on her phone, she typed a message and clicked send. 

“There, all done.”

“Hopefully he’s not put his phone down under all those ducks–” he began to say, but was interrupted by a series of rapid buzzes from Charlie’s phone.

Charlie glanced down at the messages, then held the phone up for him to see:

“He seems really excited,” she said with genuine surprise, “I didn’t think he’d…”

“Care so much?”

“Yeah…” With a sigh, she slumped over to lean against him. “I guess– it’s easier to cope with if he doesn’t care, you know?” 

Ozzie wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as they both looked out the window. “I understand,” he said quietly.

They sat in silence for several long minutes, and then Charlie spoke up again. “I’m still upset, at least a bit. I get why you did everything, but I can’t– it’s not something I can just turn off. But…” she took a deep breath, “I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” he said, heartfelt. “I’ll add it to my list of things I need to be better at.”

“I mean that’s what this hotel's all about,” she said, amusement bleeding into her voice. “Turns out you’re one of the ‘hazbin’s’ as well.”

“Little hellion,” he replied, chuckling and giving her a squeeze around the shoulders.

“Your favourite hellion–” she began, but was cut off by her stomach giving a loud rumble. “Oops, I may have skipped lunch today…” 

“Are you feeling up to going down? I could bring you something up if you aren’t…?” he offered, but she shook her head.

“No, I’ll be alright,” she replied, “I’m sure I look like a blotchy mess, but they’ve all seen me cry at this point!”

He reached over and pinched the apple of her cheek, smirking. “A very cute blotchy mess, Charbear.”

“ Noooo , stop,” she said, slapping at the hand but laughing as she jumped to her feet and started walking towards the door. “I’m not five anymore.”

“Aww, but you’ll always be my cute little niece to me!” he replied, following her out of the room.

When the pair of them made it downstairs, they were greeted by the sound of delighted laughter. This had been about the furthest sound Ozzie (and probably Charlie as well) had expected, and they came to a dead stop as they took in the scene below.

Angel Dust was sprawled out on a rug near the fireplace, laughing as the pack of enthusiastically buzzing quieves jumped all over him. Fizz was lounging out on a nearby sofa, camera in hand and a bright pink pig sitting in his lap. Even Sir Pentious had slithered out of whatever room he’d been holed up in and was sitting in an armchair, pinned down by KeeKee and a small crowd of strange egg-shaped creatures. Meanwhile, over by the bar Vaggie and Husk were both watching on with bemusement.

It was an adorably domestic sight, and beside him, Charlie let out the highest-pitched squeal he’d heard someone make. All at once, the quieves froze and swivelled their heads towards her. As a buzzing, enthusiastic mass they bolted away from Angel Dust and across the foyer towards Charlie and himself. 

Charlie for her part embraced the oncoming tide and made her way down the stairs to sit on the bottom one and lavish the quieves in affection (especially Precious, who she scooped up into her lap. 

Smiling at the sight, he made his way over to the group by the fireplace and leaned down to give Fizz a kiss on the forehead. “Talk go well then?” he murmured to the imp, who leant back into his touch.

“Eh, it’s a work in progress but the quieves helped,” he replied, before gesturing down at the pig. “This is Fat Nuggets, he belongs to Angel.”

“Aww, who’s a cute little piggy,” Ozzie cooed, holding out his hand for the pig to sniff. Fat Nuggets huffed and then bonked his head against his hand. He let out a huff of delight and then started patting the pig. A few moments later, he looked up to see Angel Dust watching them from his place on the floor, a fond smile on his face. It was probably the softest expression he’d seen on the sinner’s face and it suited him.

“He’s adorable,” he said and the spider demon grinned.

“And he knows it – he’s the most spoiled pig in all a Hell,” Angel Dust replied, before sitting up and looking over at Charlie, who was still busy lavishing affection on the quieves. “Is she–?”

“She’s doing okay, under the circumstances. I dropped a bit of a bombshell on her but she bounced back quick.”

“What sorta bombshell?” Angel Dust asked, eyeing him dubiously.

He scratched awkwardly at the back of his head. “Well–”

He never got the chance to reply, because the sound of jazz suddenly resonated throughout the lobby and Alastor appeared in a swirl of shadow and static. 

“Excellent, everyone has finally emerged from their rooms,” he said in a sing-song voice that sounded entirely too smug. The bastard had probably been watching them from the shadows. 

“It seems like some of you have had a harrowing day, and what better cure than some good food!” he continued, throwing his arms wide. “Dinner is ready, and I’ve made jambalaya.”

Well, I guessed he’d have to tell everyone about Lucifer at dinner, then. 

Chapter Text

V Tower, Pentagram City - Pride Ring:

Val was sprawled out on the settee, wearing an outfit with more fishnet and leather straps than actual fabric. It was goddamned hot, and Vox had been salivating over the sight of his piercings through the mesh of his shirt ever since he’d watched Val pull it on through the lens of the bedroom camera this evening.

Any other night, Vox would have already been kneeling between his legs, rucking up the strip of fabric that Val had passed off as a skirt and having a taste. 

Except tonight, Val would not stop talking absolute shit .

One thing they had in common was their ability to talk incessant amounts of shit without any effort whatsoever. This was normally something Vox liked about Val, because silence was fucking oppressive and screw being left alone with your own thoughts. However, as with all things, there were exceptions to the rule, because Val had been talking about one thing, and one thing only for the past hour.

“–guess he has an edging kink, which I can sort of understand when–”

“Val.”

“-he probably gets as much dick and pussy as he wants, so maybe he–”

“VAL.”

“-likes to spice things up with a bit of denial–”

“ V̲̠̲̲̲̲̄̿̄͞͞A̳̳̲̳̅̄͟͟͟͞͞L̄! ” 

Vox grabbed Val by the shoulders and dialled his screen to maximum brightness. His own face was reflected at him in the moth’s heart-shaped glasses and finally, the idiot processed that someone else was talking.

“in the bed– fuck , Voxxy, what is it?” Val said, looking extremely put out by the interruption. “I was talking .”

“No, you were bitching about how much you want Asmodeus to fuck you, that doesn’t count as talking,” he shot back.

“Like you don’t do the same about Alastor, amorcito . You want that deer dick so bad that you’re practically gagging for it–”

“ S͟h̲̅u̲̿t̠̄͟ ̅̄͟t̳̳̄͞h̳̱̲̿͞ē̳̿̄͞ ̳̠̅͟͟͞f̲̳̄͟͞͞u̲̲̠̳̠̳̿c̠̠̱̄̄͟͟͞ḵ̠̅̅̿̅̿̿ ̳̳̿̅̿̄̿͟͞ū̠̲̠̄̄̅͞͞p̲̱̅̄̅̿͟͞͞͞ !” Vox hissed in a garbled growl of TV static. “I do not .”

“Hmmm, I’d beg to differ but denial is cute on you,” Val purred, before digging his claws into Vox’s arm, the golden claw caps the only thing preventing a whole new set of puncture wounds (because this is what he got for rolling up his sleeves in the comfort of his own home). 

“Now please tell me why the fuck you interrupted me?” 

He yanked his arm away from Val, feeling metal catch against his skin, and backed up a few steps to put some distance between them. He doubted Val would be thrilled about what he had to say, and if this screen got any more cracks, he would have to replace the whole thing (which was not something he wanted to deal with).

“Velevtte and I are…concerned about your meeting with Asmodeus,” he said.

“Why the fuck would you be concerned, I had him eating out of the palm of my hand,” Val replied which was concerning, given the footage he’d seen of said meeting. If Val was this deluded over it, there wasn’t going to be any way of swaying him, but still, as always, he was going to try.

“Yeah, so that’s bullshit. He was cordial at best , are you blind?” he paused, looking Val up and down, “Well, more so than usual.”

The growl that came from Val would have been terrifying if he wasn’t so used to it by now. He watched dispassionately as smoke began to swirl around his (currently on again) lover, the smog shifting his appearance a few degrees to the left from ‘tacky pimp’ to ‘demonic horror’. 

“ You just don’t like it when I get nice things, and you’re stuck panting over that outdated radio fucker like a bitch in heat,” Val said with a veneer of sickly sweetness as he sashayed over to Vox and yanked him closer by the bowtie. 

He swallowed hard, suddenly lightheaded as every drop in his body rushed southward. Fuck Val was hot when he decided to be mean, he thought, suddenly reconsidering his earlier thoughts about getting on his knees. 

“You’re as bad as any of my whores, only no amount of stuffing your holes going to stop you jacking off to those glitchy recordings of yours late at night,” Val continued, dragging his claws down his chest before grabbing by the hips and yanking him close, pressing one fish-netted thigh between his legs. “But if you’re a very good boy I might even let you watch when I let Asmodeus fuck me, hmm?”

Val was really stuck on the Alastor thing today for some reason. Like, more so than usual.

(He was also stuck on the Alastor thing, but he wasn’t going to get into that with Val, not today, not ever – unless Val changed his mind on the roleplay he’d suggested a few years back, then he’d make an exception).

“As I said, Velvette and I are concerned because you showed him one of your contracts, what the fuck Val?”

“He wanted to see, I was being a good host,” Val sniped back even as he pulled him down hard against the heat of his leg, “there were other things I wanted to show him, but those will have to wait–”

He let out a garbled groan, feeling the whir as his vents kicked in even as the pressure sent a bolt of intense pleasure jolting through his system. “F͞͞– ̠̲̄̄f̠̳̠̳̠ū̲̱̲̠͟͞c̱̱̲̅̅͞͞͞ḵ̠̿̄̅̿͟͟͟͞, dammit Val,” he hissed even as his hip bucked forward, “f- fine, I give up, just,” he ground down against Val’s thigh, “don’t s- sign anything unless you– oh fuuuck , yes – unless you let me read it.”

Val grinned at him, the smug look he always got when he won, and blew a plume of smoke into his face. “Yeah, yeah, stop acting like I’m an idiot, Voxxy,” he cooed, then hefted Vox up by the hips and carried him back towards the settee.

Later that night, long after they had relocated to the bedroom and Val had been lulled into a boneless, fucked out sleep, Vox quietly made his way out of bed. He waited until he’d cleared the room entirely before zapping away – no need to make Val up.

In an instant, he went from flesh and blood to nothing but electric thoughts and current. It was a strange feeling, dissolving your component parts into something intangible and fluid. The first time he’d done it, he’d panicked and spent an afternoon stuck in the tower’s electricity grid, unable to find a way out. These days though he wouldn’t give it up for anything. There was something freeing about escaping the confines of his flesh-and-metal body and just being free. 

Like all good things, though, it came to an end.

When he appeared in his control hub, the lights along the walkway pulsed in response to his presence. All around, his sharks cut lazily through the water. He smiled fondly at them and the glow of their circuitry in the dimly lit water. It was about time he got them a treat. He made a note to look up the name of that employee who’d brought him coffee this morning– the cup had been practically ice cold (when he specifically requested it so hot it’d burn his tastebuds) and they’d forgotten to add sugar again . 

Maybe becoming fish food for a while would teach them a valuable lesson. (Not that he especially cared about the lesson – it would be worth it just to watch them thrash frantically in the tank until his babies turned the water red.) 

The click of his shoes against the runway was a calming sound, it was practically that ASMR shit that Velvette kept demanding he play on his screen when she decided she wanted a sleepover.  He sat down in the control chair and the wires snaked themselves forward and with a spark of bone-jolting electricity, he was plugged into the beating heart of Hell’s internet.

Some nights he’d lose hours in the flow of it, letting his thoughts wander down one path to another. Tonight though he was looking for something specific. Witha thought his mind was racing to scour through his connections in search of anything incriminating about Asmodeus.

He tried phone records first. The wonders of Voxtek dominating the electronics and communications industries in Hell was that he had a backdoor into basically every device across the Seven Circles. Even if a phone wasn’t made by Voxtek, the framework for accessing anything – your calls, the internet, your favourite app – was all made by Voxtek. Who didn’t love a monopoly?

All the Hellborn were so short-sighted. They didn’t understand technology, not really. They didn’t understand its power to manipulate, to control, to infiltrate right into the minds of every stupid sinner and imp and hellhound that picked up a phone. Even the younger goetia were falling prey to it, caught up in trends that had them glued to a screen 24/7 and loving it. By the time anyone realised what was happening, he’d be too entwined, own too much of their lives to live without him.

Asmodeus was no exception - it was child’s play to get access to his phone. Fat lot of good it did, though. His text history was not comforting precisely, but there also weren’t any glaring red flags. When he’d talked to the princess he hadn’t outright sworn vengeance on Val, even when she’d told him that he’d licked her arm (which thank fuck, honestly, what the fuck had Val been thinking?? You couldn’t go around liking royalty as though it had no consequences), and his texts were mainly just flirting with that boy toy imp of his and work. 

It was slightly concerning to see him messaging Lucifer (because somehow he thought that the King of Hell might be a bit more concerned about the arm licking) but that was a hurdle they could face if it came to it. 

He moved on to the princess next. Her texts were few and far between, but those that she did send were mainly filled with sickening fluff directed at her girlfriend, except– fuck, there it was, a new text to her daddy dearest about him visiting for dinner. Fingers crossed Val didn’t come up as a topic of discussion.

(Also what was with those texts from Lucifer, maybe there was room for some blackmail there– nobody texted like that unless they had issues.)

He did a quick through the phones of everyone else at the hotel, but no dice. What horrifically boring people, no wonder they lived in a dilapidated shack for loser hasbins.

Under normal circumstances, he would have stretched his awareness directly into the phones, but that was a no-go – while the modern prevalence of in-built microphones normally made them excellent listening devices, the presence of a certain outdated fucker at the hotel made that impossible. All he’d get would be a migraine, and then everyone would complain, because his migraines always fucked up internet access for the whole of Hell. Plus Velvette would be pissed at him about it. Little miss influencer couldn’t go three hours without updating her adoring fans without throwing a bitch fit to rival Val. The last time it’d happened she’d engineered a full-blown smear campaign against him on V (recently rebranded from Vitter) for her own amusement. There’d been no way to prove it was her behind it but he’s known.  

On his screens, the drone feeds of the Hazbin Hotel popped up. There was nothing to be seen, no way into those walls. They were just going to have to wait and see what Asmodeus had planned for Val, and hope that it was as harmless as the Sin claimed (and stop Val from signing anything without reading the fine print).

The following morning at the Hazbin Hotel, Pentagram City - Pride Ring

Breakfast once again came around far too early, and this time it wasn’t even paired with the benefit of deliciously cooked food, Instead, boxes of Greed Seeds and Voot Floops had been dotted along the table along with cartons of milk and (thankfully) several carafes of coffee. Vaggie had explained glumly that cooking fell on a roster and today was Charlie’s day, which meant no cooked breakfast unless they wanted food poisoning. 

On arrival, he’d poured himself and Fizz bowls of Greed Seeds (frowning at the box which still showed Fizz’s face, he’d have to make sure that Mammon was paying Fizz for that) and set about eating the frankly too-sweet cereal. It wasn’t a flavour either of them was a huge fan of, but it was miles better than whatever shit they put in Voot Floops.

While he was glad that they weren’t being subjected to the horrors of Charlie’s cooking, he really needed to talk to Charlie about her staffing of this place. If she wanted the hotel to grow there was no way she could keep cooking on a roster like this. Maybe he could convince her to talk to one of his management staff - this might not be his area of expertise but he employed people for whom it was, and they’d champ at the bit to work for royalty.

Breakfast passed in a quiet, sleepy hazy and he was free to let his mind wander to last night’s dinner. Breaking the news about Lucifer’s visit had gone about as well as could be expected: a mixed bag ranging from genuine enthusiasm on the part of some (Angel Dust and Nifty) to downright indifference (Husk), and outright nerves (Vaggie and Sir Pentious). Ozzie wasn’t precisely sure what Alastor’s opinion was on the situation, but there had been a slight twitch of an eyelid that suggested he wasn’t exactly pleased with the thought of Lucifer showing up.

(It wasn’t like he would be surprised if the Radio Demon was against the King of Hell showing up – he’d clearly put a lot of time into being exactly what Charlie needed him to be, and Lucifer tended to absentmindedly trample over everyone else’s plans.)

He’d volunteered to take the lead on that front because it seemed like Alastor had no intention of volunteering, despite the fact he clearly seemed to enjoy cooking. (Which was another point towards ‘Alastor was unhappy about Luce’s impending visit’). Both Charlie and Fizz had volunteered, but he wasn’t letting either of them anywhere near a kitchen, they were both so horrifically bad at cooking. The thought of them both trying to cook in the same kitchen was such a catastrophic prospect that he didn’t want to contemplate it further.

The real surprise had been when Sir Pentious expressed an interest in lending a hand. He’d initially been sceptical but had cautiously accepted when none of the other hotel residents objected. He hadn’t talked to the sinner much and was intrigued to get a chance to know him. Charlie had gushed about the progress he was making and if that was true, it would be a worthwhile endeavour. He just hoped he could get over his nerves enough to be a decent assistant in the kitchen.

They’d almost reached the end of breakfast when Charlie, who had been suspiciously silent thus far, turned to him and asked, “So you didn’t say yesterday, what’s your plan for Valentino?”

Her timing couldn’t be worse, given he’d just taken a sip of coffee. He choked, the hot liquid going down the wrong pipe and leaving him a spluttering mess. Fuck, he really wasn’t making a great impression, was he ? It wasn’t helped by Fizz walloping him on the back, either, sending him into yet more spluttering coughs. Those arms packed one heck of a wallop, and sometimes Fizz didn’t know his own strength. 

“Oh my gosh– I didn’t mean– was this meant to be a secret?” Charlie said frantically as he continued to wheeze.

Eyes streaming, he looked up to see that Angel Dust was in much the same predicament with his own coffee. They shared an exasperated look across the table between hacking coughs,  before he managed to straighten and turned to Charlie.

“I had wanted to discuss the specifics with Angel Dust privately,” he rasped, then cleared his throat, “I don’t think this is breakfast conversation.”

Before his eyes Charlie crumpled, looking mortified. It almost made him want to recant his previous words - he hated being the bad guy. That wasn’t fair on Angel Dust though - somehow, he doubted the sinner wanted his dirty laundry aired in front of everyone.

“Of course, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking–”

“It’s fine toots,” Angel Dust interrupted with a sigh, cutting Charlie off. “Everyone in this hotel is gonna find out eventually, you’re all suck fuckin’ snoops anyway.”

The sinner was wrapped in an oversized pink hoodie that looked sinfully soft (Ozzie would have to ask where he brought it, he wanted a matching set for him and Fizz), hands clutching a large mug of steaming coffee. He still looked half asleep and none too pleased about the conversation, but with a certain resignation to him that showed he’d committed to talking about this.

The attention of everyone at the table was now laser-focused on the two of them. He half expected them to start breaking out the popcorn. It really wasn’t how he’d wanted to have this conversation, but it seemed like that option had been soundly removed from the table.

“If you’re sure?” he said to Angel Dust, who nodded. “Well then– without going into specifics, from what I saw yesterday during my meeting with Valentino violates everything I stand for, everything that Lust stands for. To put it plainly, he’s fucking terrible.”

“And water is wet, hot stuff, what’s ya point?” Angel Dust muttered. 

Ozzie leaned back in his chair, trying to figure out how to explain this. “My point is that what he does would be illegal in the Lust Ring. We don’t mess with love potions or coercion full stop down there, but laws vary between rings.”

“Whose idea was that?” Vaggie said, sounding mildly horrified, “That seems like a terrible idea.”

“It was my Dad, wasn’t it?” Charlie said softly. Vaggie looked stricken. “He and Mum were the ones who set things up in the early days, if there aren’t proper laws then it's because of them.

Vaggie placed a hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Oh Charlie, I didn’t mean–” but Charlie shook her head.

“It's okay, I know that my Dad hasn’t always done the best job of running Hell,” she said, looking pained.

(Down the far end of the table, Ozzie heard Husk mutter ‘Daddy issues’ under his breath before taking a hearty sip of what he hoped was coffee rather than straight booze. Sir Pentious beside him looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and was quietly sneaking his way to the exit.)

Ozzie winced . “It’s more complicated than that, honey,” he said, though he only half meant it. A lot of the flaws were due to Lucifer and Lilith’s actions, but that didn’t mean he could just shove the blame away entirely, “none of us knew what the future would look like back then. Hell got messy a lot quicker than we expected – there were so many sinners than we’d anticipated, and between them and the hellborn keeping control wasn’t easy.”

“Sure, but her daddy didn’t give a shit about us from the start, otherwise they’d be laws that protect sinners from the actions of other sinners,” Husk growled out from the other end of the table.

“Wait, seriously?” Vaggie said, sounding genuinely surprised “I knew things were pretty wild, but I didn’t realise there are no laws at all.”

“You really can tell yer green around the ears. Why’d you think the city was like this?” Husk replied, shaking his head. “Without any laws, of course people turn to violence to get by. Sure all of us did things to get sent down here, but most of us weren’t that bad back on Earth–.” He turned to glance at Alastor, “Though there are exceptions.”

“Guilty as charged my dear Husker,” Alastor replied, sipping his coffee, “most overlords find the lawlessness to their benefit, though there are exceptions. My dear friend Rosie for example – Cannibal Town is one of the most pleasant districts in Pentagram City, and that’s because she imposes her own laws.”

They were all making good points, but Charlie looked more and more dejected with every word. He glanced downward to Fizz, who gave a shrug, which was fair. His boyfriend had always been pretty vocal about how fucked up Hell was when it came to imps, he didn’t expect him to jump to Lucifer’s defence when it came to sinners. The whole system was one big, fucked up mess and the only people sitting pretty were a few overlords, the Goetia and the other high-ranked hellborn. 

“We didn’t think we’d need laws to protect them from each other, in the beginning,” he said softly, trawling back in his mind to times so long gone that all that remained were dusty fragments. “We didn’t expect there to be so much violence, so much hate. None of us even knew what murder was, not really, until people started showing up in Hell because of it.”

Everyone stared at him as though the idea of not knowing what murder was was inconceivable. He supposed it was to them. Sin was an intrinsic part of humans, just in the way that virtue also was. It was different, for angels. In the earliest days, it has been nothing but celestial light and virtue and endless days of contentment. They’d learned, though.

“We’re getting off the subject – what I’m saying is that Valentino isn’t breaking any laws, but as the embodiment of Lust I can’t let this stand, and Lucer has no objections. 

Under normal circumstances, I’d just kill him–” beside him, Charlie winced, “but that’s not an ideal option since all his contracts would just default to Vox.”

Angel Dust looked at him, genuinely considering that before shaking his head. “ Technically that wouldn’t be the worst, only Vox’s gotta petty streak a mile wide,” he replied, grimacing, “he n’ Val are in like Hell’s messiest hot-and-cold situationship, and I don’t wanna see what he’d do to me if Val died.”

“Wait, Valentino owns your soul?” Vaggie said, before looking like she wished she hadn’t when everyone turned to look at her. “ What ?”

Angel Dust rolled his eyes. “I mean duh, what, did ya think I work for Val because I enjoy pulling sixteen-hour shifts and gettin’ knocked around?”

“Well, the way you talk–”

“Oh, you did not just say that,” the sinner snapped. “Fuckin’ hell Vag, that’s messed up.” 

“Why don’t we all calm down–” Charlie started to say but Angel Dust silenced her with a glare. 

“No, Charlie. I’m allowed to be fuckin’ upset when someone I consider a friend says something fucked up,” he interrupted before he focused his attention on Vaggie. “I’m not ashamed of being a porn star – I’m good at what I do! But workin’ for Val is fuckin’ terrible these days. Only I can change that, so why the fuck would I bother complainin’ about the shit I can’t change?”

Rather than looking contrite, all Angel Dust had done was ruffle Vaggie’s figurative feathers. She clenched her jaw, looking like she wanted to do a lot more than glare at Angel Dust. “How is it my problem if you won’t share what’s going on–”

“Oh like you share everything with us?” he said, voice icy. “Then how come I’ve lived with ya for months and don’t know a goddamn thing about ya ‘cept that you’d probably throw yourself on  a blade for Charlie?”

“ Angel ,” Charlie hissed, horrified. “You can’t–”

“That’s the only thing that matters ,” Vaggie snapped, then blanched, looking like she wanted to be sick. She slumped back into her chair and looked at Angel Dust with a hollow expression.

“Shit, Vags–” Angel Dust said, wringing his hands, “Okay, that’s a lot to unpack and I don’t– can we just deal with one crisis at a time?”

She nodded, looking relieved. Beside her though, Charlie looked like she’d been stabbed. Her mouth was trembling and she was looking at Vaggie like she’d never seen her before, hadn’t seen the truth about Vaggie’s devotion to her in full. 

Angel Dust glanced between the two of them, and then gave a heavy sigh. “Look, it’s just– have ya never been stuck inna bad situation and made the best of it?” he asked. “I sold my sold fuckin’ soul because Val picked me up outta the gutter and made me feel special,” he gave a bitter laugh, “talk about bein’ an idiot, right? But I ain’t ever gettin’ it back, not unless a miracle happens. So yeah,  I laugh about my work and tell funny stories, but I don't want you all lookin’ at me like I’m…” he trailed off, turning away.

“Like you’re broken,” Fizz said softly. 

Angel Dust nodded.

Vaggie stared at him, biting at her lip. “I’m sorry, I’m not– I’m really bad at this, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Angel Dust scoffed. “Hurt me? Like you could manage that, I’m fuckin Angel Dust, baby, I’m goddamn bulletproof” he said before shaking his head, “apology accepted. And for the record– I’m sorry too, alright? You’re my friend too and that got a bit outta line.”

The smile Vaggie gave him in return was hesitant but better than her previous expressions. Ozzie made a note to have a chat with her sooner rather than later. The more he got to know her, the more certain he was that he knew who (or rather, what) she was, and judging from that little exchange it wasn’t something they could put off. Not with the way Charlie looked at her, like those hinted revelations might just break her.

“Well now that we’ve gotten this little heart-to-heart out of the way, have you not considered that this little problem could be solved if Vox was killed at the same time, hmm?”Alastor interjected from the end of the room, a crackle of staticy, disembodied jazz catching everyone’s attention.

Well, that was– hmm . He hadn’t expected the overlord to just suggest offing another overlord, but it made a weird sort of sense. Why do the heavy lifting when you could just point a Sin at them and watch the carnage? He didn’t fancy being used as someone’s weapon of mass destruction, that wasn’t who he was (even though he knew deep down that he had the capacity to be). Besides, he and Fizz had discussed this   

“Al, I really don’t think violence is the right answer…” Charlie said.

“You can’t just kill Vox,” Fizz said at the same time, and Charlie shot him a thankful look. 

Alastor scoffed. “Whyever not? I have to admit that I’ve let him live this long mainly for my own amusement, but really , if he’s this much of an obstacle I can’t see why Asmodeus would bother keeping him alive.”

Fizz gave a raspy laugh. “Trust the Radio Demon not to see the problem– if Oz killed Vox, half of Hell would riot. That little dick-measuring contest you had a few months ago knocked out all of Pride’s electrical grid– Blitzo was bitchin’ about it for days afterwards.”

That was his Fizz - fearless in the face of danger, even when that danger was a cannibalistic overlord. He was right about Blitz too – it’d been only a few days after the clusterfuck with Mammon, and he’d shown up out of nowhere to vent with Fizz until he’d passed out on the couch mid-sentence. 

“I fail to see the issue,” Alastor replied nonchalantly, “I think Hell would be much better without the drivel Vox pumps through those noisy picture boxes of his.”

Angel Dust leaned forward. “Well I happen to make good money from those noisy picture boxes, Smiles, so I vote for the option where Vox stays alive, as long as I don’t get caught in the crossfire.”

Ozzie grinned, finally feeling like they were back on solid ground with this conversation. “Well, that is the plan. As for what to do with Valentino, well it seems like since his contracts are the key way he’s screwing people over, it would make sense that they’d be his downfall. If I have it my way, he’ll sign himself into his downfall and he won’t even realise.”

Alastor hummed thoughtfully, hands steepled under his chin. “You’re talking about making a deal with him?”

“Not exactly – as someone reminded me recently, contracts with Sins are eternally binding. All I need to do is make a genuine business deal with Valentino, but add a few subclauses around how he can treat the souls he has under contract. If he breaches it, then his contracts would be forfeit.”

“Holy shit ,” Angel Dust said, wide-eyed, “that's– you’re talkin’ enforced good behaviour or he stops being an overlord. Val– there’s no way that he’ll be able to keep up good behaviour, even if he discovered the clauses after he signed.”

Charlie clapped her hands together, the colour beginning to come back into her cheeks. “This is great! I mean, I’m not a huge fan of deceiving people, but at least it’s a non-violent option!”

“That’s all very well my dear, but your uncle hasn’t mentioned what happens to those poor, unfortunate souls when Valentino inevitably breaks the contract,” Alastor interjected, smile widening. 

“They all made deals for a reason, are you just going to cast them out into the cold?” The glow in his eyes increased and static buzzed in his voice. “I have to admit, the thought of such tender pickings does sound like a treat .”

Ozzie did not like the sound of that. The thought of overlords fighting over sinners like hyenas was brought to mind. “Well that depends - there are a couple of options. I could just have the contracts forfeit to me and give sinners the option of ending the contract or staying under me, but the way I see it, the Pride Ring needs someone to take Valentino’s place, someone who could act in my interests and run things the way I want them to.”

“So like a deputy? Like one of ya hellborn employees steppin’ into Val’s shoes” Angel Dust asked.

“Something like that,” he replied. That was one option, though not the only one. But he wasn’t to say it aloud, not now. Charlie was not going to approve of him trying to poach a hotel resident.

“So this contract– who’s going to write it?” Vaggie asked, cocking her head.

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” Charlie said, “It would have to be absolutely airtight. Maybe Dad knows someone who could help?”

“Oh don’t worry, he said with a broad smile, “I have someone in mind. He owes me a favour and he loves contracts.”

Fizz whistled. “Wait, are you talkin’ about–”

“Yup.”

“Huh, that could work!” 

“Mind cluein’ the rest of us in?” Angel Dust said.

Ozzie leaned back, looking around. “Any of you familiar with Stolas?”

Chapter Text

Stolas’s name had been met with a handful of blank stares from Husk, Niffty, and Vaggie, a muttered ‘that horny on main Goetian prince?’ from Angel Dust, a hmmm from Alastor and Charlie’s some confused query of ‘ Paimon’s youngest kid, right ?’. Sir Pentious wasn’t even around at all to react, because the lucky bastard had slithered off to who knows where partway through breakfast. Fizz didn’t blame him - for a self-proclaimed evil villain turned wannabe redeemed sinner, he was one nervous fucker (though maybe that was a sign that he was a good fit for this crazy-ass plan of Charlie’s).

All in all, nobody from Fizz’s sort of niece-in-law’s group knew much about Stolas (and an additional niece, wasn’t that a thought – one moment he was busy processing that Blitzø had a kid ( who was also a whole-ass adult with a personality to rival his childhood friend-turned enemy-turned maybe best friend again ), and the next he was horns-deep in intrigue and plotting with Ozzie’s hellplum-sweet niece and her ragtag friends). Thankfully Oz had a way with words. It didn’t take much to convince them that Stolas would be a useful asset.

Ozzie had also used that way with words to curb Charlie’s enthusiasm enough that she didn’t demand he contact Stolas right there at breakfast. Given that cell phones were apparently out for the foreseeable future, portals were the only practical communication method. The thing about portals was that they were basically the magical equivalent of Facetime, with the added benefit of being able to step through them if you wanted. Only unlike Facetime, you didn’t have to answer the call, they just popped up (even when unwanted or uninvited).

 Fizz had only met Blitzø’s owl boy toy (or who the fuck knew, maybe the love of his life, who knew with Blitzø) in passing once – and when he was way too out of it to take it in – but calling him up while in pyjamas seemed like a bad idea. Blitzø had certainly bitched about his hoity-toity manners and prissy dress sense enough that it didn’t seem like the best call. 

Funny? Sure. Smart? Definitely not .

Instead, they had agreed to reconvene in an hour after they’d splashed some water on their faces (and in his case reapplied his foundation) and smartened up (or at least those of them who were meeting with Stolas). Not everyone joining for the ‘rope an owl into plotting against an overlord’ plan – Husk, Niffty and Vaggie had begged off because nobody had forgotten that Lucifer himself– satans fucking balls, what the absolute fuck was his life these days? – was coming over at dinner at six p.m. sharp, and Vaggie wanted the place sparkling. 

He was absolutely not thinking about the fact that he, an imp born in the ass-end of nowhere, was going to be having dinner with the King of Hell . It didn’t matter that Ozzie said he was as sweet as a duckling, that was whole legions above anything he was prepared for (even if he had been dating a Sin for years!).But that was a matter for later tonight. They still had more immediate matters to sort out, namely Stolas.

Which brought them here, to a small out-of-the-way office that was doubling as an office (mainly because it had the least bugs out of all the rooms available). Charlie was sitting at the table and nearly bouncing in her seat, while Angel lounged in a seat with the practised ease of the secretly nervous, and Alastor sat primly and utterly unreadable behind that yellow grin and cold eyes.

Fizz had to admit he still wasn’t exactly thrilled to be in the same room as someone who’d probably use his bones as toothpicks given the chance (unless being a quadruple amputee meant he didn’t have enough meat on the bones for the infamous Radio Demon, hah, what a goddamn silver lining in a shitstorm that would be), but he could suck it up. He was relatively sure he wouldn’t get eaten. Relatively . Eating a Sin’s boyfriend seemed like a great way for a sinner to become an ex-sinner at record speed.

He watched with interest as Ozzie stood at the front of the room, and with a nod to everyone, summoned the portal. Pink smoke swirled in front of them and coalesced into a tear in reality.

It was about then that Fizz abruptly realised that they may have miscalculated. In their haste to avoid the security risk of using a phone, it hadn’t occurred to any of them that there might be different risks to portalling directly to Stolas. Specifically, they had neglected to check whether Stolas might be busy with something (or rather, someone ).

The portal opened up to an unfamiliar bedroom and the goetian prince lying half-naked in bed and looking fucked out, with an imp sprawled beside him. A very familiar imp. The pair were half-covered by the sheets, but there was no hiding the plethora of bite marks across Blitzø’s chest or the frankly wild angles of the goetia’s feathers. 

Shit. “Oz,” he hissed even as his boyfriend’s eyes widened in alarm.

At the sound of Fizz’s voice, Stolas and Blitzø’ turned towards the portal and promptly froze, staring wide-eyed at the meeting room full of people.

Blitzø’s eyes met his through the portal and Fizz winced as the imp mouthed a clear ‘what the fuck’ even as Angel wolf-whistled. The subsequent blush that spread across Stolas’s face was bright enough that it shone right through the feathers like a fire hydrant of embarrassment.

Behind him, Charlie gave a high-pitched squeak and muttered something that sounded a lot like: “Oh my gosh, I’m so sooo sorry, Uncle Ozzie could you maybe give them some privacy?” even as Stolas gave a choked squawk and said, "Is that Princess Morningstar?? ” in the tones of someone whose worst nightmare had just come true.

Fizz’s eyes cut to Ozzie, who looked like wanted to sink into the ground. This had not been a great two days for his boyfriend. With a wave of his hand, Ozzie shrunk the portal to the size of a tennis ball, small enough that nobody would be getting more of an eyeful. 

“My apologies, I didn’t intend to interrupt the two of you,” he said through the portal, “I had some business matters to discuss that can’t be transmitted digitally…” he said, running a hand through his mane. The two faces there were blushing, eyes downturned.

“No, no, please don’t apologise, sire, this is entirely my fault,” came the flustered voice of Stolas through the portal, “I’ll be ready in just a minute, please accept my apologies for this situation–”

“Birdy babe, this isn’t your fault at all ,” the Sin said, shaking his head. 

Charlie sank back into her chair, burying her face in her hands and letting out a wordless scream. Ozzie patted her consolingly.

Meanwhile, Angel had turned to Fizz with a fascinated expression of gleeful delight. “Fuckin’ hell, I know that dude. What’s Blitzø doin’ in bed with a goetia?” the sinner said, eyeing the portal with bewildered amusement. “Fuck, he has a talent for bagging people out of his league if he’d sleeping with a prince now.”

Fizz turned to stare at him, shocked. “Wait, you know him?”

“Oh yeah, back when he and Verosika were dating. We met at an afterparty, thought he was hot in kinda a grimy punk sorta way, woulda fucked him but he turned me down–”

“NOPE,” Fizz declared, and slapped a hand over the sinner’s mouth, “just no– I do not need to hear you talk about my friend like that.”

“Yeesh, sensitive much?” Angel replied, elbowing him, “What’s wrong with saying he’s a hot piece of ass?”

Fizz groaned. “What’s wrong is that we grew up together– I don’t need to think about him that way.”

This was technically the truth, but only a fraction of it. The problem was that Blitz was hot. Like uncomfortably hot, in a way that sent Fizz spiralling back to being a teenager and the massive crush he’d had on his best friend. The crush that he’d assumed had been entirely unrequited and had been buried fifteen years in the past– right up until he and Blitz had gotten drunk a month ago and he’d admitted he’d planned to confess his feelings for him the night of the fire. So things were, to put it bluntly, complicated. He knew Ozzie wouldn’t mind if he and Blitz did fuck their feelings out, because the open relationship had always been at the core of their dynamic, but it was weird and honestly, Blitz seemed waaaay too caught up on his bird boy to handle that.

Angel cocked his head at him. “...wait, is this the guy you mentioned yesterday?”

“...yes.”

“Huh. Childhood friends who ended up fuckin’ bird royalty - you both have specific fancy-ass taste in men.”

The rest of their conversation was thankfully cut off by the portal reopening and both Stolas and Blitzø stepped through, looking distinctly rumpled but more presentable.

Stolas still looked utterly mortified and immediately fell into a deep bow in Charlie's direction. “I am so, so sorry Your Highness, I hope you can forgive the inappropriateness–”

“No! Please don’t apologise Stolas, this is entirely my fault– or rather me and Uncle Ozzie, we never should have portaled you without warning–” Charlie interrupted, wringing her hands as Ozzie hovered just behind her, looking more than a little guilty.

“–but it was entirely unprofessional for me to…to be– for myself and Blitzy to engage in– during business hours, I really shouldn’t have–” Stolas interjected, his apology and Charlie’s overlapping in a sonic bath of mortification.

Blitzø, who had been trailing behind Stolas, gave an audible sigh, grabbed ahold of one of Stolas’s fail feathers and tugged . The result yelp gave him the chance to step forward and insert himself into the conversation.

“What birdbrain over means to say is that he’s sorry that somebody –” here he levelled a glare at Ozzie, who had the decency to look sheepish, “didn’t think before magicking up a portal right into someone’s bedroom.”

Fizz snickered. That was so classically Blitzø.

Ozzie rubbed the back of his “Yeah, that was my bad– I set it to manifest in your vicinity Stolas, it’s my fault for not considering you might be busy.”

“Yes, we’re all super sorry!” Charlie said, still flushed pink. “But it’s nice to see you again Stolas– I think the last time I saw you was at that ball for your eighteenth birthday?”

“Ah yes…it has been some time Your Highness,” Stolas replied.

“Please just call me Charlie! Your Highness makes me super uncomfortable, it’s waaay too formal for me.”

Those were the magic words because he watched the goetia’s shoulders relax a little. “That’s very kind of you, Your– I mean, Charlie,” he said with the beginning of a smile before his eyes widened. “But how rude of me–” he continued, and placed his hand on Blitzø’s shoulder, “this is my partner, my darling Blitzy. ” Stolas' voice took on a distinctly singsong tone.

Okay, what the fuck ? Catching Blitzø’s gaze he mouthed ‘partner?’, face set with an incredulous expression. The last time he’d spoken to Blitzø literally a week before, his friend had definitely not been talking to Stolas and had been all ‘h e gave me as Asmodean crystal, he’s done with me and why the fuck would I even care what that blue-blooded horny owl even wants anyway, I’m better alone’ as he downed far too many drinks throughout the evening.

Blitzø, the bitch, ignored him in favour of elbowing Stolas, even as a faint flush coloured his cheeks. “How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Blitzø, not goddamn Blitzy,” he said with an eye roll, then stuck his hand out in Charlie’s direction. “Name’s Blitzø. Nice to meetcha, princess.”

Charlie smiled warmly and took his hand, “Oh it’s lovely to meet you as well!” She turned towards Fizz, “Did I hear you tell Angel you know each other?”

“Know each other? Bitch, we practically sucked on the same teat,” Blitzø said, apparently his one attempt at manners going out the window as he reverted to his usual tactless self, “Fizz n’ I grew up together in the same circus. Used to be clowns”

“That’s wonderful! Fizz’s family now, so that makes you family too!” She smiled warmly at him. “Are you still a clown?”

Blitzø did a weird series of gymnastics before settling on amusement. “Do I look like a clown? Actually, on second thought, don’t answer that,” he said, then shot her a cocky grin. “Nah, I kill people now. I’m the founder of I.M.P.”

(Fizz fought the urge to scream. Blitzø’s business was legal only through the technicality that nobody had thought to ban imps killing humans. Did he really have to tell the Princess of Hell ?)

Charlie’s smile faltered slightly as his words sunk in. “I.M.P? Isn’t that the one that–”

“Oh my fuckin’ god, that jingle ,” Angel interrupted with a cackle. “How’s it go again?”

While Fizz really wanted to pin his friend in place and interrogate him about certain relationship developments (because when had this even happened???) he was never going to turn down an opportunity to perform. Especially when he could use said performance to rib Blitzø about the cheesy-ass jingle he’d written. Plus, it would at least interrupt that awkward as fuck conversation. 

With a smirk, he began to sing: “ When you want somebody gone / And you don't want to wait too long– ”

“ Call the Immediate Murder Professionals, ” Angel chimed in with Fizz 

“ Hand grenade or cyanide ,” Fizz sang the next line, miming throwing a grenade.

“ We'll make it look like suicide ,” Angel sang, clearly struggling to hold in his laughter as he acted out tying a noose around his neck.

“ The Immediate Murder Professionals ,” they sang together.

Charlie stood shell-shocked, watching as the room descended into chaos.

“ We do our job so well ,” Fizz continued, stretching his legs out to toss himself around Ozzie’s neck. His boyfriend, the champion that he was, merely laughed.

“ Because we come straight up from Hell ,” Blitzø interjected, even as gave the middle finger to Fizz.

“ We'll kill your husband or your wife ,” Angel sang, throwing one of his lower arms around Blitzø’s shoulders and bending down to plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“ We'll even let you keep the knife ,” they all sang together, barely managing to keep it together as the laughter bubbled up.

“We're the Immediate Murder Professiona—” they chorused, and then all three of them mimed a gun firing.

Bang. The sound of a gun rang out and Fizz didn’t even question it, too deep in the performance. 

“ Kids die for free~ ,” they finished up together before they all descended into cackles.

“Wait, where did that gunshot–” Ozzie began to ask, but was interrupted by the canned sound of a static-laced crowd cheering and clapping.

They all turned to see Alastor leaning back in his cheer, grin somehow wider than usual, clapping enthusiastically along with the non-existent audience. “Bravo! What better to liven up a meeting than some live entertainment? I hope you don’t mind the sound effects, it just wouldn’t be the same without it!”

“Wait Smiles, that was you with the gun? How the fuck do you know the jingle?” Angel asked, finally containing his laughter enough to peer over at the overlord.

“Well my fine arachnid fellow, while I do try to avoid that noisy picture box in the lobby, even I cannot avoid the occasional earworm and that jingle is quite catchy!”

“Ha!” Blitzø crowed. “Take that Moxxie! People do like the jingle.” He then looked Alastor up and down, blinked, and looked at Fizz with an affronted expression. 

“Fizz, that’s the Radio Demon. What the fuck are you doing with the Radio Demon, the Princess of Hell, and Hell’s hottest porn star in one room?” 

(“Awww shucks Blitzy ,” Angel cooed, and Blitzø flipped him off.)

Before he could reply, Blitzø continued speaking. “Actually scratch that– why didn’t you tell me you met the Radio Demon??” he said before looking back at Alastor. “Your radio show’s fuckin’ cool. Really impressive murder skills you got there.”

Alastor’s smile seemed to become ever so slightly more genuine. “Why thank you my good fellow, and it sounds like you are a dab hand yourself–”

“ Okaaaaay –” Charlie interrupted, “can we maybe not talk about killing people? Especially actual living humans? I’m trying to fix Hell’s overpopulation and that cannot be helping,” she said with a grimace.

With varying levels of enthusiasm, the gathered group abandoned that particular conversation and settled themselves around the table. Fizz made sure to snag a seat right beside Blitzø and yanked him in close to whisper: “You and I need a conversation about what just happened.” The other imp just huffed and muttered agreement before settling into his seat.

“So birdy-babe,” Ozzie began (Fizz raised a non-existent eyebrow when Blitzø honest-to-Satan growled under his breath, because wow, possessive much?), “welcome to the Hazbin Hotel – Charlie’s redemption project.”

“Ahh yes, I’d heard rumours about this place. You’re trying to rehabilitate sinners and get them into Heaven, correct?” Stolas said, blinking owlishly (ha!) at Charlie.

“Yes! Pride is suffering terribly from overpopulation, and the Exterminations cause so many people to suffer, I just want to give sinners a chance at something better!” Charlie said. You could almost see the sparkles in her eyes.

“That’s very noble my dear,” Stolas replied but frowned slightly, “only I’m unsure what I could do to help. While this is a very noble idea, goetian affairs are rather separate from those of sinners. I would have thought that you were more than well placed with the assistance of an overlord such as the Radio Demon?”

“ Well , that’s because what we need help with is less about the hotel, though it is about one of its residents…” Charlie mumbled, dancing around the point.

Angel took this as his clue. “Heya feathers, nice to meetcha. I’m Angel Dust, porn star extraordinaire and the hottest thing in Pride, if I don’t say so myself,” the sinner said with a wink.

Stolas gave an amused hoot. “While you are very attractive, I personally think my dearest Blitzy–” (a sharp elbow to Stolas’s side), “I mean Blitzø, my apologies, holds that title for me.” The goetia turned a frankly soppy look at the imp, who looked like he wanted to simultaneously melt into a puddle and self-immolate from embarrassment. “That said, I am still unsure what I could do to help?”

“We could do with an expert on contracts, and frankly you’ve proved that you're qualified,” Ozzie interjected, looking deadly serious now. “Since I’ve been in Pride, I’ve become aware that a certain moth overlord has been violating the principles of Lust. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with him–”

“Valentino. Yes, I’m quite aware of him,” Stolas said the name with the expression of someone tasting something especially foul. “Did you know, he dared to comment on Via’s Sinstagram pictures? She was only fourteen and that bastard told her to call him when she was legal so that she could ‘learn what real work was’.”

Fuck . Fizz might not know much about Stolas, but Blitzø had mentioned he had a kid (there had in fcat been a lot of monologing about how hot it was that Stolas tried to be a good dad, which was more than he’d ever needed to know about his friend;s love life). The thought of someone commenting that on a kid’s photo…Everyone was apparently in a grremnt, because there was a chorus of horrified reactions from all around the table. Even Alastor looked put out, his eye twitching ever so slightly. Points to the murder cannibal for having some standards, he guessed.

“Great, glad I don’t have to sell you on how terrible of a person he is,” Ozzie said with a sigh of relief. “I’m looking to oust him from his position in a way that doesn’t involve his contracts defaulting to his allies. He’s under the impression that he and I are doing a business deal, and I wanted to add some clauses in the contract about his behaviour and the consequences if he should… slip up .”

Stolas let out a full-blown hoot of delight and clapped his hands together. “Oh, a challenge! I would be absolutely thrilled to assist with this.” With a snap, an elaborate notebook and quill appeared out of thin air. “Now give me all the details–”

As the conversation quickly descended into shared facts and legalese, Fizz tugged Blitzø away from the table. “Come on, they’re gonna be at this for ages. Let’s grab a drink and have a chat.”

Blitzø grinned back at him, falling into step with him. “Oh fuck yes, show me the bar.”

After several hours spent discussing contracts with Stolas, Ozzie’s head hurt with the ferocity of a thousand suns. Words might be Stolas’ speciality, but they certainly weren’t his. The prince had finally departed a short time ago, promising that he would work on the new contract post haste. Blitzø had vanished with him, after having been subjected to what was no doubt a thorough grilling from Fizz on the status of his relationship. 

He was glad those crazy kids seemed to have sorted out their shit, it was about time. Despite being the embodiment of Lust, he did enjoy a good love story and those two were like hot honey - sweet, but with enough spice that their presence was like him downing a shot of tequila from the fumes of secondhand lust the two of them radiated. He was also more than a little bit relieved, because maybe when Blitzø came over he wouldn’t be dragging Fizz with him into the depths of a bottle while he drowned his sorrow.

With the meeting over, he was finally able to face the next task of the day– cooking dinner. However, when he reached the doorway of the kitchen, he was surprised to be greeted with the scent of frying onions and mushrooms. It smelled delicious, and he was immediately relieved that a. Sir Pentitious had apparently taken the initiative, and b. that if it smelt this good already, then Sir Pentious could definitely cook.

While he enjoyed cooking, he had to admit that he had something as a terminal sweet tooth. If it wasn’t for Fizz’s instance of things like burgers, he’d probably live off a diet of sugar and in fact he had for centuries at a time, before Fizz swang into his life). Even now, their fridge at home was stuffed to the brim with the makings for dessert, and not a lot else comparatively. Still, the prospect of some time in the kitchen was a welcome one after the morning he’d had. 

He might not be the best cook, but he was still a good deal better at it than dealing with legal talk. It wasn’t that he was bad at deals and contracts, but it just wasn’t how Lust operated. Contracts were more Mamon’s speciality, truth be told. The last several hours had been filled with enough talk of contracts and deals and legal minutiae that his head was spinning. Charlie had followed along surprisingly well (clearly her tutors had been doing their job) and Alastor had been in his element (the bastard), but Angel Dust had suffered along with him as Stolas peppered him for details.

All in all, the simplicity of cooking seemed like exactly what he needed. Shrinking himself to fit inside the kitchen, he was greeted with the sight of the snake sinner leaning over the stove, clearly hyper focused on whatever was in the pan he was stirring. 

“So what’s for dinner?” he asked and then winced as the sinner gave an impressive full-body flinch (with that much tail, it was certainly a sight) and whirled around to face him, every eye across his body wide in shock.

“Your sssinfulness, Mr Asmodeusss, sssir,” Sir Pentious said with a sharp salute. “My apologiesss, I didn’t notice that you were there.”

Ozzie noticed with amusement that the sinner was wearing a frilly pink apron that definitely didn’t belong to him, with the words ‘Kiss the Cook’ emblazoned across the front. Sir Pentious’s gaze dropped to follow his own, and then his eyes widened (not just the ones on his face either, which was quite the sight). He was pretty sure that the snake sinner was managing to blush, though he had no idea how someone with scales pulled off that effect. 

He grinned widely. “The apron suits you,” he said with a wink, “also no need to stand on attention, you can just call me Ozzie. Any friend of Charlie’s is a friend of mine.”

The blush did not abate, but at least the sinner stopped spluttering like an overfull pot on the stove.

“Yes Your– Mr Asssmodeus,” he said (not quite Ozzie but progress he supposed. “I wasssn’t sure what you had in mind for dinner, but I decided to make Beef Wellington. After all, Wellington wasss a brilliant tactician, and what better to serve to the King of Hell himself?”

“Huh, sounds great. I honestly wasn’t expecting you to want to make something so technical–” he only vaguely knew what beef wellington even was, his main mental association with it was that it was complicated, fiddly and probably not worth his time when he could apy someone else to make it, “but it sounds impressive! You like to cook then?” As he spoke, he conjured an apron out of thin air (a twin to Sir Pentious’ one, might as well make the sinner feel more comfortable).

“When you’ve lived almossst one hundred and eighty years, you have to learn at some point!” he said, stirring the mushroom mix. “My little egg bois are usseful minions, but they aren’t very good in the kitchen. They keep sssetting it on fire.”

“They do look like they’d cause chaos. Fizz is exactly the same way,” he said with a grin. “But honestly it can’t just be time, because otherwise Charlie would be far better in the kitchen than she is. Two hundred years and she’d burn water given half a chance.”

Sir Pentious gave a rueful laugh as he continued to stir the mixture in his pan. “I alwaysss forget that she isss older than me. It seems sssso strange that that she was born before I ever fell…” he ducked his head over the pan, the swirls of steam hiding his expression. “She reminds me a little of my daughter. So full of joy and fascination– I used to make toys for her. Little music boxes full of gears and ticking cogs, dolls that blinked their eyes….me, a villain of the first order, and I spent my time making toys for a child!” 

Ozzie watched him, sadness tugging at his heart. There was a story there, he was sure, but he could sense that this wasn’t a thread that he shouldn’t pull. As he observed the sinner, he watched Sir Pentious pull himself together.  

“The duxelle issss ready, pass me that bowl,” Sir Pentious directed and without comment he passed over a nearby stainless steel bowl. The sinner spooned the deliciously savoury mix into a bowl and then set it to the side.

“That smells delicious! Now tell me, do you want help with the Beef Wellington or should I get started on the sides?” he asked and was rewarded with a smile from the other demon.

“Sidesss, I think.”

The next several minutes passed in a surprisingly comfortable blur of cooking. Ozzie couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a kitchen with someone who also knew how to cook. He was so used to shooing Fizz out (and preventing him from snagging various uncooked ingredients to snack on) that the presence of competent company was shocking. It was surprising how much he enjoyed it. 

“Sssssir, I have a quesssstion…”

“I told you Pentious, you can me Ozzie. Or even Asmodeus if you must,” he said with amusement, before winking, “though I’m not going to kink shame if you really want to call me sir~ Fire away.” Then he frowned, “Unless you’re trying to proposition me, in which case I will have to respectfully decline because – and I can't believe I’m saying this – that’ll have to be a no, you’re very handsome but this hotel is far too messy to bring that into the equat–”

“What– no– that’ssss not–” Sir Pentious spluttered, nearly digging his claws into the pastry he was rolling out. “I wasss not trying to proposssition you, though you are attractive.” The sinner heaved a dramatic sigh. “Alas, I am a man of singular affections, and my heart already belongsss to another! A woman of most spectacular means and bearing.”

With a slowly spreading grin, he looked Sir Pentious over with this new knowledge.

“Oh. Oh . That sort of question,” he said with a grin as he continued to chop vegetables, “well if you’re looking for a few moves to spice things up in the bedroom, I can help with that . Ten thousand years is a long time and I’ve fucked enough snake demons that I know–”

“NO!” The sinner practically shouted, looking like he was about five seconds from dropping dead from a heart attack. “I mean– that issss very kind of you, but I have not– we aren’t–”

“Gotcha. You’re wanting tips on how to woo your lady love, then?”

“...yessss. I was hoping you could provide some advice on how to, as the kids these days sssay, ‘rizz her up’.”

That phrase, dropping from the tongue of a Victorian-era steampunk snake, was certainly something. He swallowed the urge to laugh, though. Somehow he suspected that wouldn’t come across correctly to Sir Pentious, nervous fucker that he was. 

“I assume that you aren’t just looking for a one-night stand?”

“Well…I wouldn’t like to presssume– if a single night of passssionate fornication–”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there. It sounds like you clearly want more than that, so don't sign yourself up to get your heart broken because you can’t communicate.”

He sighed, and he took a moment to keep chopping potatoes. “Full disclosure, I’m the Sin of Lust , not romantic relationships…but as someone in a long-term relationship– the most important thing is to be yourself. If you want more than just a one-night stand, this lady of yours needs to like you for you, not just whatever mask you put on to impress her.”

“I ssssupose,” the snake sinner said hesitantly, “I jussst don’t know how. The only time we talk is when we meet on the battlefield. When she sets off her explosivesse, she’s practically radiant and I am unssssure of how to talk to her outside of that …”

Ozzie hummed thoughtfully. “So enemies to lovers, hmm? Sounds like your first step is to find a way to talk to her in a context where it’s clear that you aren’t looking to fight. Do you have any mutual acquaintances that you could ask?”

“....Angel Dust. They are, as he has said, ‘ BFF’s ’.”

“Well, there you go! Talk to Angel Dust, explain that you were hoping to talk to this girl, see if he’d help!”

“I am…unsssure if the arachnid– no, if Angel Dust, would assist me. The two of ussss have had…fraught interactions since I came to the hotel.”

“Oh, it can’t be that bad–”

“I called him a whore bug. And we have...scuffled, several times since.”

“Ah.”

“We have mended some of our bridges, but I don't know if he would want me wooing his friend…”

“Well then, that’s the first step then. When you date someone, you aren’t just dating them. They come with a whole life– people who are important to them. It seems like it would be worth giving friendship a shot with Angel Dust, and maybe then your girl might be more inclined to give you the time of day.”

“I ssssupose…'' the sinner said, then squared his shoulder. “...yes! You are right- clearly, you are the superior tactician in the realm of romance– I shall create a plan of attack immediately and implement it soon.”

Oh dear, what had he done? Ozzie returned his attention back to cooking. That seemed like the safest bet under the circumstances. Hopefully that wouldn’t come back to bite him later. He wasn’t entirely sure what Sir Pentious would consider ‘a plan of attack’ but he didn’t fancy the sound of it.

As six p.m. ticked closer, the tension in the hotel became palpable. Dinner was cooked and under a stasis spell in the kitchen (perks of being an immortal being of almost unfathomable power).  With nothing left to do in the kitchen, he’d sought out the rest of the hotel residents. He’d been hoping to help with any last-minute preparations and had instead been greeted with an overwrought Charlie. From his seat on the sofa, he watched with worry as Vaggie tried to talk her girlfriend into some level of calm. 

“Babe, can you please just sit down, you’re going to wear down the soles of your shows at this rate,” Vaggie pleaded with Charlie, who was pacing back and forth across the lobby. 

Charlie let out a wordless sound of stress, throwing her hands up in the air while she continued to pace. “If I stop walking, I just– urgh, I feel like I’m going to explode! He’s meant to be here in less than ten minutes and it’s been years and I just need this to be perfect, I have to be perfect, what if he doesn’t like it…” she trailed off into mumbling under her breath, looking frazzled.   

“She’s been like this for thirty minutes,” Fizz whispered into his ear. The moment he’d arrived in the lobby his boyfriend had slung himself into place around his neck like a scarf. It was a grounding presence. 

“And Vaggie’s been trying to calm her down the whole time?” he asked.

“Yuuuup. Honestly, we’ve all taken a crack at it, but nothing is getting through. I swear the kid’s gonna give herself a heart attack or something at this rate.”

Ozzie hissed out a concerned breath. Goddamn Morningstars. They were all like high-strung racehorses, good at what they did but prone to fearsome bouts of anxiety and working themselves into a state. Thankfully he knew what to do with them.

Standing up, he crossed the room in a few long strides and intercepted Charlie by placing two firm hands on her shoulders, effectively pinning her in place.  His niece looked up at him with wide eyes and a distinctly manic expression.

“What– Uncle Ozzie, let me go ,” she hissed, and her expression was all Lilith at that moment, flashing eyes in all.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully and proceeded to gently and firmly pick her up off the ground and started marching her back towards the sofa. He could hear Fizz snickering around his neck, and a glance to the side revealed Vaggie staring at him, gobsmacked.

In his hands, Charlie wiggled like an angry cat, her eyes turning bright red and horns manifesting “I said, let me GO!” 

Her teeth were definitely more fang-like as she snapped at him, her demonic nature finally bleeding through. It was impressive how un-demonic she looked most of the time– on an average day, she’d have blended in with the angelic folks up in Heaven if she’d had a halo and wings (and honestly, there was still time for the wings. Just because they hadn’t manifested yet didn’t mean they mightn't show up when she began to come in her power).  

He ignored the ineffectual wiggling and sat back down on the sofa, hugging Charlie firmly. “I know you’re stressed, but you’re just working yourself up into a state. You need to breathe,” he said calmly, taking his own measured inhales and exhales. 

For a few moments, she continued to struggle and then suddenly went limp, the fight draining out of her. He loosened his grip, but she remained leaning up against him, breathing slowly. 

“...thanks.” She sounded a bit sheepish.

“It’s no problem Charbear. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve had to do that to your Dad,” he said with a chuckle.

“Huh.” With a sigh, she slid herself over to the empty space on the sofa and stared at him wide-eyed. Her hair was a mess, and there was a distinctly rumpled quality to her.

He smiled softly. “I know you probably don’t hear this often, but you and your dad have a lot in common. You’ve inherited a lot of good things from him, but you’ve also gotten the infamous Morningstar temperament.”

With a snap, his magic washed over her and straightened out all the flyaways and creases, leaving her looking refreshed. “There you go, now you’re ready.”

In his pocket, he felt his phone vibrate. Without even pulling it out, he had a suspicion of who it might be. With a sinking feeling, pulled it out and opened his messages.

As suspected, Lucifer was having his own personal breakdown about dinner. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, not wanting to give away anything to Charlie. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven-

Knock knock knock. 

Ozzie breathed out a sigh of relief. Charlie, looking like she wanted to throw up, walked up to the door and pulled it open. Before she could even say a word, Lucifer stepped through the doors and swept her up in a hug.

Showtime.

Chapter Text

The moment Ozzie heard the sound of singing coming from the foyer as he made his way back from the kitchen, he knew he had royally fucked up. At a run, he belted down the corridor, faint strands of the words ‘ You could almost call me Dad ’ meeting his ears. Fuck, fuck, double fuck . He burst through the doors right in time to see the following: the foyer lit up in a lightning scheme more often seen at Ozzie’s than at a hotel; Lucifer sawing away on his violin like he wished it was Alastor’s neck; and Charlie looking shell-shocked. He was about to open his mouth to ask what the ever-loving fuck was happening when a piano fell on Lucifer.

( okay, that was kind of funny, he could admit )

And well, here was the thing. 

Allowing Alastor and Lucifer to be in the same city–let alone the same room –had been a mistake. He could admit that freely enough. That said, he reserved the right to say had he had expected at most a serious case of snarkiness. He had (wrongly) assumed that they were all adults and that meant he could briefly excuse himself to take Lucifer’s offering of apple pie to the kitchen. 

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t be surprised to find the little bitchfest he’d excused himself from had rapidly escalated to musical warfare and a halfhearted assassination attempt via falling piano (not that bludgeoning damage was enough to scratch the Devil Himself, illustrated by the fact  Lucifer was now up and abusing an accordion in protest). However, despite what he should have expected, he was, nonetheless, surprised. 

Had his expectations been realistic? Perhaps not. The key point however was that he hadn’t predicted this, and therefore wasn’t to blame (even if he had been the one to invite Lucifer here).

Unfortunately, that didn’t exempt him from being the adult now. 

He paused for a few seconds, wondering what precisely to do. The bloodlust in the room was delightfully potent to the point that he’d almost be tempted to let them keep going. ‘Almost’ being the operative phrase here, because there were two crucial facts to consider: Charlie looked like a chew toy being tossed around by a pair of ravenous dogs, and Fizz seemed ready to find a bomb shelter before the fallout hit.

Across the room, Lucifer broke out the wings and Ozzie sighed deeply. He’d heard enough.

“ Ė̋͜N̡͓̘ͦ͜ͅƠ̧̩̖̱̦̗̔͗Ư̸̺͙͇̺͓̥ͦͣͣ͝G̬̪͎̾̅̓̓̓́ͭͩ͐͑͟͠H̴̛͓̙̼̩̝̞̠͇̱̭̓̿̑̄̃͜, ’ he roared, and his vision was consumed with flame as he grew, and grew .

Lucifer and Alastor froze, looking up at the kaiju that had suddenly decided to fill the space of the room. Alastor looked torn between fight and flight–a reasonable response– but Asmodeus was having none of that. With a rapid swipe, he scooped Alastor and Lucifer up in a hand each. He Could feel Alastor squirming–the beginning of cracking, shifting bones beneath his fingers–and he tightened his grip just enough that the attempt ended. There would be none of that today.

The sudden absence of music left a deafening silence.

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see Fizz fanning himself with a sit-eating grin (his boyfriend always did like it when he went full Sin Mode). The rest of the hotel crows ranged from shell-shocked to fascinated (and was Angel Dust eating popcorn ?). He wasn’t quite sure how to classify Charlie’s expression, though.

He allowed himself to shrink slightly, then turned his attention back to the pair in his grasp. For his part, Lucifer looked relatively unbothered by this whole situation–a little sheepish, perhaps–but otherwise unbothered (beyond the dirty looks he was shooting the Radio Demon). Alastor on the other hand looked ready to star in an Earth horror film: covered in green glowing stitches and with black goop that definitely wasn’t blood knowing Sinner anatomy.

“This is how it is going to go: I  will let go of you, and you are both going to behave: no more insults, no more musical numbers, no attempts at grievous bodily injury. You are going to act like adults and not play tug-of-war with Charlie. Do. I . Make. Myself. Clear?”

Grin plastered across his mouth but entirely missing from those cold-shark eyes of his, Alastor shrugged as best he could. “Why my good fellow, I have no idea what you are talking about. His Highness and I were just engaging in some entertaining banter, it’s hardly my fault he has such a short temper.” 

A laugh track echoed through the room, the canned laughter setting his teeth on edge. He could feel Lucifer squirm in his grip, clearly incensed by the comment. 

“You hopped up little–” Lucifer growled, outright snapping his teeth at Alastor.

In response, Asmodeus squeezed slightly again. He doubted that it was enough to hurt either of them but it certainly made them shut up.

“I don’t think you heard me before,” he said lowly, voice like velvet over steel, “the two of you are going to play nice, or I will break out the spray bottle, and I don’t either of you will enjoy that experience.”

(the image of Lucifer and Alastor as cats was amusing–they certainly puffed up like felines–and he kind of hoped they’d provide him with an excuse.)

Perhaps he was pushing it a tad far–Lucifer might be his sibling, but he was also technically King of Hell even if he failed to act like it 99.9 percent of the time–but it was a calculated risk. One that paid off when he felt Luce slump in his grip.

“Okay, okay, Deus, I’ll play nice,” the fallen angel said, flashing him a sharp grin, “cross my eyes and hope to live.”

Ozzie grimaced as he put his brother down. “It’s cross my heart and hope to die ,” he groaned, Alastor down as well. “Hells, how are you this bad at getting things right.”

Off to the side, Alastor brushed himself off and his form settled into something less alarming. “Why, it must be so hard for an ancient being like yourself to keep up with modern terminology.” That same canned laughter rang out.

“–Oi Smiles, it ain’t good ta throw stones in glass houses,” Angel Dust crowed from his spot on the other side of the room, “I remember havin’ ta tell you what slay meant last week.” Clearly, Alastor’s voice had carried.

The radio demon’s eye twitched slightly behind the monocle, but he otherwise appeared calm, even as Lucifer let out a wheeze of laughter, slapping his thighs in amusement. 

Toddlers, the lot of them , Ozzie thought with despair even as he allowed himself to return to normal size and called out to the group. “Now that we’ve had the show, how about dinner?”

In his lifetime Fizz had attended a number of awkward social engagements (most of them while he was in Mammon’s employ), but this might top them all. A long table–not the one they’d all had breakfast previously, but a giant schmancy wood one in a room that could only be called a Dining Room TM –had been laid out, probably courtesy of Niffty, complete with ridiculous high-backed chairs. It looked like something out of a bad gothic fantasy telenovela, though honestly, that could probably describe the whole of this hotel. Too much red and gold and apples, nothing like the Lust Ring. 

The seating arrangements might have been all-out warfare, the way some of the attendees had dived for their chairs. It had ended with Lucifer at one end of the table, surrounded by family (and by extension, Vaggie and himself to both their mild horror). At the other end, Alastor lorded over the far end surrounded by his poor unfortunate…employees? Slaves? Who the frickin’ fuck knew? And rounding out the centre were Angel and Pentious, stuck right in the middle of the drama. 

They’d been a blessed few minutes of peace when the food had been brought out, and everyone had made suitable sounds of enjoyment and appreciation over the beef wellington. But alas, enough time had passed the conversation had erupted into fits and bursts across the table, and apparently Lucifer was dead set on making him his focus for the evening. 

“So…Fizz, ah, can I call you Fizz? FizzaRolli is an interesting name by the way, very…flamboyant–” Lucifer paused for a moment to distractedly to stab a piece of beef wellington with his fork, “--anyway, you’re a clown, right?”

Fizz eyed the impaled piece of beef wellington that was being waved wildly by Lucifer as he gestured with his hand, hoping that it didn’t go flying. 

“Ah, yes.” Fuck, he sounded like he wanted to go curl up and die (which at this moment was accurate). Be excited Fizz, where’s that showmanship they know you for? Fuck . “I mean– that’s me, the Amazing FizzaRolli, Hell’s finest jester, here to amuse and entertain.”

Beside him, he could practically feel the nervousness rolling off Ozzie. Sin or not, his partner was a worry wart. Fizz was fine . He did appreciate not being right beside Lucifer because that seemed like a lot , but he could handle this. He could. Besides, Lucifer looked enraptured by this topic of conversation, which seemed like a good sign.

“Are you a fan of circuses, Your Majesty?” he tried.

“Oh, um, no need to be so formal,” Lucifer replied, then he smiled so wide and bright that he half wondered if he could use it as a mirror. “You’re dating Deus, you’re practically family!” 

There went the fork with the meat still skewered on it again. Charlie had to lean back out of the path to avoid it smacking her in the face. One more good wave and it was bound to go flying and hit something.

“And yes! Circuses– love them! Did you know, I had a phase when the Sins and I–this was, what, a hundred years ago?”

“Over two hundred,” Ozzie interjected.

“Um, wow, time certainly flies– anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes! There was a time when I roped all the Sins into performing, we had a proper Big Top and everything!” 

On the word ‘everything’ Lucifer waved wildly and the chunk of meat went flying and hit Vaggie squarely in the face. It made a wet plat sound as it struck and her face froze in a rictus of shock, as everyone else at the table went silent.

Lucifer, apparently oblivious, continued talking. “Honestly, I think that was when Mammon picked up the whole jester shtick, though I have told him he looks a bit like he–um, why is everyone quiet?” 

He looked around and took in Vaggie still frozen in place and the splotch of gravy on her face. “Oh Maggie, it looks like you, ah, have something…on your face?”

“Not shit, you threw it at her,” Angel crowed from beside Fizz and woooow , Fizz had never wanted to sink into his chair more than he did right now. Lucifer had joined Vaggie in frozen horror, eyes flicking between his own fork and Vaggie’s face. Second-hand embarrassment was a relatively foreign emotional experience to Fizz, but damn it if he wasn’t experiencing it in full right now. Why had they come to the hotel again?

This was not helped when Alastor decided to interject: “It seems your height reflects your maturity level, Your Majesty. I would have expected the king of hell was above playing with his food but it seems I was mistaken.” 

Beside him, he could see Ozzie reaching for the spray bottle he’d threatened earlier, and really, that probably wasn’t going to land well right now, what could he do–

“Heh, who hasn’t played with their food once in a while? Ozzie and I sure like to get messy, if ya know what I mean.” Even as he said it, Fizz felt some small part of him shrivel up and die. Oh, Satan, take me now –

“Oh yeah, ya wouldn’t believe the things Val has had me do with food. I tell ya, there was this one time where he ordered a gallon of imitation maple syrup–”

Thank fuck for Angel. 

The tension in the room was abruptly shattered as Husk dove to slap a hand over Angel’s mouth and shocked laughter rang out.

Fizz slumped back in his seat, exchanging a relieved glance with Ozzie. Boy, this dinner felt more precarious than any tightrope act he’d ever done with Blitz. 

Charlie, looking like she’d aged a year over the course of this evening, bravely tried to change the subject. “So, this food is amazing, thank you both,” she said, smiling first at Ozzie and then at Sir Pentious.

“Why thank you, my dear, it is my absolute pleasssure,” Pentious replied with a nervous smile.

“Hmm, yes, the meat is quite good,” Alastor interrupted.

( Fizz wanted to bang his head against the table, what the fuck was this bastard going to say now? Couldn’t they have five minutes of peace, Satan Below? )

Alastor sliced off a piece of perfectly pink beef and examined it critically. “Perhaps a little too cooked for my taste, but we can’t all be connoisseurs, can we?” 

He ate the bite of meat, then turned a sly smile to Pentious. “Tell me, did you use the meat from the top shelf of the fridge? It’s a rather special cut that I picked up– though being graced with the company of the Devil Himself may be such an occasion to eat it.”

Fizz frowned as Pentious’ expression faltered. Special cut?

“Yesss?” Pentious said hesitantly.

Fizz heard Charlie suck in a breath and his eyes flicked back to her. She had blanched an even paler shade of white, and beside her, Vaggie looked like she wanted to be sick. 

“ Alastor ,” Charlie hissed, eyes wide, “you didn’t …”

Alastor waved a hand, looking amused. “I have no idea what you mean–”

Vaggie slammed her fork down on the table, standing up to jab a finger in Alastor’s direction. “We’ve talked about this– we tolerate your diet but you can’t store that sort of meat in the kitchen.”

Oh. 

Ohhh . 

Oh no.

Fizz looked down at his beef (or was it beef? He’d heard enough about the Radio Demon to know what his diet entailed), stomach churning. Beside him, he heard Ozzie gag, clearly reaching the same conclusion. Satan help him–

A laugh track rang out across the room, mirrored by Alastor’s sudden wheezes of laughter. The sinner looked deranged, chair tipping back as he clutched at his chest. “ Your faces !” he crowed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Vagatha, you wrong me.”

(“ Vagatha? I thought her name was Maggie??” Lucifer hissed under his breath to Ozzie.)

“I simply meant that this was actual topside beef, rather than simple hellcow.”

There was a collective release of breath as they all processed that. Glancing up at Ozzie, he saw that his boyfriend still looked queasy. 

This was going to be a long night.

Despite his fears, the rest of dinner passed with surprisingly few mishaps after the pseudo-cannibalism scare. Despite a few queasy expressions amongst the diners, the beef wellington had proven too tempting to neglect. It wasn’t every day that you got genuine Earth Meat, and it would be a shame to waste it. 

(Fizz wondered where exactly Alastor had gotten his hands on it. There were black market sellers who sold the stuff, and he had to admit it would be nice to get more of it. Though perhaps he could just ask Blitz, he spent enough time gallivanting around Topside that he could do him a favour.)

What’s more, the apple pie that followed was quite frankly divine–a concept that Fizz found more than a little amusing the more given the chef responsible–and thoroughly banished the earlier pall over the night completely.

Lucifer himself proved surprisingly not the worst conversationalist once he stopped focusing on Fizz. Once the conversation strayed into the territory of embarrassing stories about Ozzie and the other Sins, he’d found himself significantly more relaxed. 

In amongst his hoots of laughter at the shenanigans (and the at times horrified expression on Ozzie’s three faces), he found himself watching Charlie. The young princess seemed to be basking in her father’s presence. It was pretty sweet, he had to admit. It reminded him a little of evenings in the circus a lifetime ago. 

He’d never known his parents–circus performers who’d been one of the many casualties of simply existing as an imp in Hell–but that didn’t mean he’d been devoid of parental affection. Cash had certainly tried to play the role of father to him (more so than he’d ever tried with his own children, the absolute fucker), but Fizz was pretty sure that was because he’d seen him as a walking dollar bill and had been sceptical from a pretty early age. 

No, what he most remembered fondly were evenings spent in the Buckzo family wagon when Cash was out drinking (and wasting the circus’ profits). He’d spent many a time hanging out with Blitzo and Barbie and their mother, and the memories had a warm glow of fondness only somewhat tinted by the tragedy to come. Tilla had always treated him like one of her own, and he missed her fiercely (not that he’d voiced that to anyone but Ozzie in more than a decade, feelings sucked ). So seeing Charlie and her father interact was its own sugar-sweet dose of nostalgia.

At the head of the table, Lucifer wrapped up a story (a time that Beelzebub had whipped up a cocktail so potent that it had knocked all the Sins out for a straight week), before trailing off as everyone around him continued to laugh. 

Abruptly–to the surprise of everyone around him–Lucifer pushed his chair back away from the table, standing up.

Fizz eyed him critically. There was a slight glassiness to Lucifer’s eyes, a tightness to his frame that Fizz recognized instantly from seeing it in the mirror. It looked like the King of Hell had suddenly tipped over the edge from ‘fun social interaction’ to ‘oh Satan this is too many people’ like a brick off the top of Lust Tower. Fizz knew the feeling well (had been made to push past it a hundred times).

“Ah-this was, it’s been great,” Lucifer said in a rush, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his lapels “but I really need to get going. Lots of, um, important King of Hell things to do.”

( A+ excuses there Lucifer , Fizz thought with a wince. Real subtle .)

Charlie’s mouth twisted into a disappointed frown. “Really? But I had a whole evening planned out, I thought we could play some games…”

Fizz watched as Lucifer visibly drooped, looking like a bouquet left without water. The devil tugged on the brim of his hat, and looked away from Charlie’s wide-eyed gaze.

“That sounds– I’d love that, but maybe not tonight ChaCha?” Lucifer tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “Another time, okay?”

(Fizz held his breath. Shit, he was surprisingly invested in this, it was like a shitty drama show only it was happening right in front of him.)

‘Another time’ was apparently the magic phrase, because Charlie’s smile crept back onto her face. “Does that mean you’ll come and visit again? Soon?”

“I…yes. Yes, I’d like that,” Lucifer replied. 

No sooner than he spoke, Charlie was out of her chair and crushing him in a hug. Fizz could practically hear the ‘ awwww ’ that half of the table let out. Look at the two of them, working things out.

(Though when he looked down the table, he saw Alastor sitting ramrod straight in his chair, picking at his claws. Not the outcome Mr ‘ You could almost call me Dad ’ Radio Demon had wanted, then. Figured.)

Charlie and Lucifer murmured a few things to each other, and then Lucifer pulled back and looked over the table.

“Well, it was certainly an…experience, meeting all of you,” Lucifer said, and well, wasn’t that a lukewarm farewell if ever there was one, though probably deserved. 

Lucifer turned to the three of them sitting at the end of the table and ah, there was the patented Morningstar grin. “M- Vaggie, it was lovely to meet you, you look after my daughter, you hear me?” 

(Vaggie looked ready to melt right into the ground, her cheeks were flushed so bright.)

“Deus, always a pleasure. Um, and Fizz, nice to meet you. Maybe next time you could, ah, give me a demonstration of your clown skills?”

Oh boy .

Fizz plastered on a grin and nodded, the tails of his hat flopping wildly. “Sure thing, would be my absolute pleasure.” He wasn’t going to say no to the most powerful being in Hell (also next time???). 

Then without a warning, Lucifer nodded before proceeding to burst into glittery flames–because of course he did, what a flashing exit (Fizz wasn’t jealous, not at all)–leaving them all sitting there.

There was a long moment of silence before Ozzie clapped his hands together. “Well, that was certainly fun . Now who’s going to help with the dishes?”

Chapter Text

Hazbin Hotel, Pentagram City - Pride Ring

Ozzie woke to the feeling of fingers carding through his mane. The touch was gentle but sent shivers down his spine nonetheless–the mane was less hair and more an extension of his essence given physical form and it was sensitive . He turned his head into the touch, nearly crowing with pleasure as the fingers sunk in deeper, scratching down to his scalp. He just knew his two smaller faces would have hearts in their eyes (they were far more expressive than he often was). It was a weakness that Fizz loved to exploit, to see how much he could get them to react. 

“ Mhmm , Fizzy-frog,” he mumbled with a chuckle, reaching up with eyes still closed for his boyfriend. 

His hand found the sleep-warm skin of Fizz’s torso where he was half curled around his head, and he cupped clawed fingers around his lover’s waist. The responding raspy trill from Fizz was more sound than vibration, and a moment later Fizz’s tail wrapped itself around his forearm, pulling him closer. 

Everything was so warm . That wasn’t a surprise–he ran hot, flames just below the surface on the best of days–but this warmth had a distinct cosiness to it that he loved more than anything. 

“...what time is it?” he murmured, pulling Fizz even closer.

He felt Fizz shake his head. “Nu-uh, none of that. We’re on holiday .”

That was technically true–the visit to the hotel had meant to be a chance to visit Charlie and a welcome escape from the fallout of Mammon’s clown pageant rolled into one. The fact that it’d become more complex was entirely his own fault, but unfortunately, one he couldn’t avoid now.

After the chaos of the past three days (and shit, had it really only been that since they arrived at the hotel? It certainly felt significantly longer), the last two weeks had passed in a surprisingly relaxing blur. With Valentino in a holding pattern for now, Stolas on the job, and Lucifer’s visit out of the way, the urgency has dropped out of his and Fizz’s days.

Alas, the peace couldn’t last. 

“I knowwww,” he groaned beginning to sit up, “but Stolas is coming by this morning to drop off the draft proposal and contract, I have to be there–”

Fizz–surprisingly strong with those robotic arms of his– pushed him back down against the bed, literally curling his arm around Ozzie’s to hold him in place. “Not yet you don’t.”

Ozzie felt a warmth of another kind begin to fill him and he shuddered at the contrast of cool metal against his flushed skin. He knew that if he wanted to, he could easily shrug free of Fizz’s grasp but he didn’t want to. Not when his heart was beginning to pound in his chest and he could feel Fizz’s breath hot on his skin.

He blinked languidly, looking at Fizz’s face hovering only inches from his own. The jester had a wild grin plastered across his face, eyes practically glowing with satisfaction from a battle won. 

“Okay, fine –” he said, stretching up to kiss Fizz, “I guess you win.”

“Of course I do babe,” Fizz rasped smugly, “now how about you give me my prize?”

Sometime later (longer than they should have pushed it, but they’d been… distracted …in the shower), they dressed for the day and made their way out of the room, still wrapped around each other. Fizz had draped himself around his shoulders, a comfortable weight. It was a neat solution to both their height difference and compulsive need to be attached at the hip and one that Ozzie had quickly embraced when they’d first started dating. Besides which, it let Fizz give him a running commentary without being overheard, a blessing in some of the more boring meetings they’d attended together. 

It was strange how quickly the hotel had become familiar, in all its garishness. Ozzie suspected it had something to do with the people who lived here. Back in the Lust Ring, all eyes were always on him and Fizz, even when it was their most trusted employees. The only time they ever really had privacy was in the tower, even then his assistant was known to interrupt unexpectedly. Rozy was a nice girl (or as nice as you could get while rising to the top of the administrative heap in Hell) and more importantly, discreet. That didn’t mean he was keen on her witnessing their more private moments. 

(Exhibitionism was his kink, not Fizz’s) 

It was different here. Charlie–and Vaggie by extension–were family, and the rest of this motley crew didn’t seem inclined to spread gossip about the Sin of Lust and his boyfriend to outsiders. It was refreshing not having to hide his feelings for Fizz. They’d spent so long behind closed doors, worried about the public reaction to the embodiment of Lust settling down, or Mammon using to leverage it against either (or both of them). For the first time, they were able to be a couple, without the secrecy. Unfortunately, that lack of secrecy meant it had also opened up a new world of teasing.

Case in point: as soon as he and Fizz arrived in the lobby, they were met with a pair of loud wolf whistles.

Ozzie blinked a few times at the tableau before them: Blitz ( unexpected ) and Angel Dust ( more expected ) lounging at the bar, both with matching shit-eating grins on their faces and clearly the source of said wolf whistles; Husker behind the bar, looking hard done by; Stolas sitting further along the bar counter with a load of paperwork in front of him, and Alastor nearby, leafing through said paperwork with a critical eye.

“Yo Fizz, you done fucking that kaiju cock of yours?” Blitz called out, “We’ve been waiting here for like an hour.”

“It’s been ten minutes,” Stolas said without looking up from the stack of papers, though Ozzie thought he caught a hint of amusement in his voice.

Stolas was fun like that. He looked so put together and dry as the Pride wastelands, but he knew there was a sense of humour hiding under all that prim and proper Goetian conditioning. 

In his peripheral vision, he saw Fizz stick his tongue out and give his friend a double middle finger. “You’re just jealous.”

“Not all of us are size queens, you brat,” Blitz called back, even as Angel Dust burst into laughter, practically doubling over in amusement even as both imps glared at him.

Fizz sounded ready to argue–half his friendship with Blitz seemed to be arguing–but they were interrupted by a sharp fuzz of radio static that hummed uncomfortably at the base of Ozzie’s spine. 

(There was something about Alastor that set every one of the Sin’s alarm bells ringing. It wasn’t that he was physically threatened by him–his power was a drop in a bucket compared to his–but not all threats came wrapped the same way.)

“Tsk, tsk Mr Buckzo, mind your language,” Alastor said, fingers tapping against the countertop as he looked up from the paperwork, smile especially wide. 

Blitz choked on air, eyes widening as he snapped his head around to look at the Radio Demon. “So firstly–what the fuck, how do you even know that name…and secondly, Mr Buckso was my fucking dad, and I don’t associate with that bastard .”

“I’m the Radio Demon my dear fellow–it’s my job to know things!”

(and again, that was why Ozzie did not trust this sinner one bit. Alastor was entirely too knowledgeable about things.)

The sinner paused, then tilted his head to the side at an unsettling angle. “That said, I can appreciate a man who dislikes his progenitor, I shall keep that in mind.”

Right . If Ozzie had picked up anything about Alastor meant ‘I’ll refrain from using this information until the most opportune moment to piss you off’. Good luck to Blitz, he suspected the imp would need it.

“Hey, the guy was just sayin’ what we are all thinking,” Angel Dust drawled, gold tooth glinting in the warm light of the lobby, “those two look as smug as the pussy who got the cream.”

Behind the bar, Husk pulled out a bottle of liquor and downed several glugs like a drowning man needs air, even as Blitz snorted. 

“If we could stop commenting on Lord Asmodeus’ private life,” Stolas interrupted, voice sharp as he finally looked up for the paperwork, “I did come here for a reason and I am rather busy.”

“Oh come on birdy babe, it’s just a joke,” he said with a chuckle as he approached the bar. 

Hidden hints of humour aside, Ozzie thought that Stolas could do with having that stick removed from his cloaca (and no doubt Blitz was making a valiant effort whenever the mood struck). The goetia screamed repressed priss, but he knew the prince wasn’t a prude behind closed doors–he’d heard enough secondhand stories via Fizz to know the prince liked to get his freak on in private. If he was going to roll with this crowd, some light jokes about people’s sex lives were something he’d have to learn to tolerate. 

(Besides, a certain little Froggie had told him that despite Blitz’s initial faux pas with the Dragon Driller 5000 a couple of months back, said toy had since been put to good use in the past two weeks. Ozzie was honestly wondering if he could use the pair as product testers for the more sizable products. He’d certainly felt the spike of lust from the pair when Blitz had said the words ‘kaiju cock’.)

“Once again Stolas, you can call me Ozzie. Even Asmodeus, just drop the title.”

Ozzie wasn’t here to play therapist for a goetia–he had enough of that with his dysfunctional family to last a life. However, one day– Hells help him –he was going to drill that into Stolas’ mind and maybe today would be that day.

“...Asmodeus, then. I have prepared a draft business proposal and contract. It contains the stipulations you suggested, and Alastor here was about to give me his opinion.”

Well, that was progress on the name front. Ozzie gave a thoughtful hum and then shrank himself a bit further so that he could actually fit on the barstools (thanks the hells for that particular ability, or he’d never find a comfortable seat again). As he did so Fizz slid off his shoulders with a huff and claimed an unused barstool beside Blitz. 

Stolas passed his stack of papers over and Ozzie glanced over the documentation. Within a couple of minutes, he could feel his eyes glazing over. He was good with the spoken word, but he’d never quite picked up the habit with the written equivalent (plus this typeface was minuscule ).   

Fighting the urge to rub his forehead, he inclined his head towards Alastor, where the sinner was still leafing through paperwork. In his left hand, the sinner held a pen and was spinning it between his fingers before pausing to make a note in red ink on the documents. To his right was a mug of some unidentifiable liquid, the mug quite frankly whimsical with ‘OH DEER’ written on the side.  

Ozzie watched him, waiting to see if the sinner would notice his attention but either Alastor was oblivious, or (more likely) turning this into a power play. 

“So….” he said, eventually. “Thoughts?”

There was a long pause as Alastor took his time reading over the most recent page he’d been reviewing, before placing it on the stack. Finally, the sinner lifted his eyes to meet his. 

“Well…” he said, voice an irritating drawl laced with static as he directed a sharp grin at Stolas, “if Prince Stolas had been a Sinner instead of one of the aristocratic elite of this charming afterlife we find ourselves in, I imagine he would have had all the qualifications to be quite the Overlord.” 

(Beside him, Stolas made a surprised sound that might have been a hoot.)

“Though I doubt that he would have wanted to dirty his hands with the messy business of soul dealing,” Alastor continued, before taking a sip from his mug.

“...I genuinely am unsure if that was a compliment or an insult?” Stolas murmured, torn between bemusement and annoyance.

From further down the bar, Blitz snorted. “Both, babe. It was definitely both.”

There was a crackle of radio static and music that Ozzie didn’t quite recognise before Alastor continued speaking. “This contract is an enticing trap, mostly because there is a genuine and seemingly reasonable offer on hand. Were Valentino not such a uniquely…repugnant creature as he is, I suspect that he would be able to adhere to this deal without ever even noticing the barbs hidden beneath and be quite prosperous as a result.” 

“Would it stand up to legal inspection?” Ozzie asked.

Stolas made an odd chirp, tilting his head in the most owl-like mannerism Ozzie had seen from him to date. “I designed it to do so, to a degree....however, with enough time and attention to deal, I suspect that a talented team of lawyers would eventually be able to decipher the underlying subtext built into the contract…”

“...the key word here is time,” Ozzie replied thoughtfully. “I’m sure that a businessman like Vox has plenty of lawyers, so we need Valentino to sign this before they can get their hands on it for any meaningful period of time.”

Angel Dust–reluctant subject matter expert on all things Valentino–took this moment to interject. “Val is fuckin’ half blind–he refuses to wear glasses and Hell is still figur’in out contacts that work for his type of eyes,” he said, then grimaced “he’s also still pretty worked up after meeting ya–the guy is almost as Vox and his obsession with Smiles.”

Alastor’s ears twitched slightly at that, and the grin flagged significantly. Touchy subject it seemed. 

“Only problem is that he’s gettin’ pretty antsy that you keep refusing his offers to ‘have some fun’ and Vox n’ Velvette are circling like fuckin’ sharks that smell blood,” Angel Dust continued, shrugging with both pairs of arms, “if you don’t throw them a bone, even Val might catch on.”

Ozzie grimaced. Over the last two weeks, Rozy had passed on several requests to socialise that he’d politely declined, citing the need to spend time with family–offers to come to shoots, film launches, clubbing and a sex dungeon orgy (precisely the phrasing used, even)–but Angel Dust was right. Much longer and even Valentino would suspect something was off. Ozzie had a reputation after all, even if said reputation wasn’t quite as accurate as it used to be.

“Have they been giving you any problems?” he asked, not quite ready to open that can of worms. 

Angel Dust waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, Val’s too distracted to give me any harder of a time than he usually does, and Vox–” he grinned wickedly, “he’s been pressin’ me for info and I’ve been milking it for all I’ve got without given’ him shit.”

“Hell yeah,” Blitz said with a sharp grin of his own, “bleed that rich fucker dry.”

“You say that in the room filled with some of the richest people in Hell, one of which you’re fucking on the reg,” Fizz ribbed, elbowing the other imp who shot him a flat look in response.

“And? I work for my fucking living.”

There was a slight edge to that, not quite as friendly as the pair's usual exchanges. Ozzie knew there were more than a few sharp edges to file down on their friendship, and this one was a sore point for both of them. 

Fizz seemed in the mood to press up against those sharp edges today, because he just widened his grin and continued to poke. “Illegally, using magic you got from your rich boyfriend, and then from mine.”

“Work’s work, even if it is illegal,” Blitz snapped, narrowing his eyes, “And you’re a professional purse dog these days.” 

“Woof woof,” Fizz replied, radiating an aura of ‘ I don’t give a shit ’ that was entirely bullshit. 

At this point, everyone in the room had tuned in to watch the ‘Fizz n’ Blitz Show’ as the tension ramped up. The barbs flew from there with increasing sharpness, and Ozzie tensed, ready to intervene if the pair decided to leap at each other. Then–

Fizz laughed, in that rasping croak of his that Ozzie loved so much. A second and then Blitz joined in. Off the side, he could see Stolas staring wide-eyed at his lover–clearly, this was his first time seeing this routine.

Fizz stole a sip from Blitz’s drink, and wrinkled his nose. “What are you even doing here anyway, you fucker?” he asked, genuine warmth bleeding back in his voice. “Shouldn’t you be, yah know, killing people?”

“Nope,” Blitz said, taking a sip of his drink. “Stolas is payin’ me to be his big fancy bodyguard and giving me enough that everyone else is having a big old holiday, Loona included.”

Ozzie frowned, glancing curiously back at Stolas. He wasn’t the only one–goetia were notoriously difficult to injure, much less kill. “Since when does a goetia need a bodyguard?” 

“Since Striker has been sniffing around again,” Blitz said with a shrug.

Ozzie instantly felt like he’d been drenched in ice water. The day Fizz had been kidnapped was without doubt the worst he’d experienced in millennia, and there were still nights he woke up, panic gripping him by the throat. It was the closest he’d come to losing Fizz, and it haunted him in the dark hours before dawn. 

He’d devoted considerable resources to having Striker tracked down, but his people had turned up nothing but loose ends. The hitman had vanished into the dark cracks of Hell like a cockroach. 

(Crimson, on the other hand, was much easier to reach. That jumped-up mobster was finding all his deals going belly up and it was only a matter of time before his people turned on him. It served him right, thinking he could threaten a Sin and get away with it.)

So the fact that Blitz was casually talking about that bastard hitman like it was no big deal had Ozzie feeling sick. He swallowed, flexed his hands and tried to resist the urge to dig them into the countertop. 

Keep his voice even–as though he wasn’t on the threshold of grabbing Fizz and portalling straight back to Lust–he tried to sound nonchalant. “You mean the fucker that helped kidnap Fizz? Since when is he messing with you Stolas?”

Stolas sighed, his hand drifting to rub at his shoulder. “I’m afraid he has been for quite some time…you may recall that I was hospitalized not long ago. I would have been down an eye had Blitzy’s employees not come to the rescue.”

Ozzie distantly remembered hearing something in the news about Stolas being in the hospital, but hearing the cause…he glanced over at Fizz, whose own expression had become tight. He knew just how traumatic the experience had been for his partner. 

“The bastard tried to take a pot at his feathery ass months back during the Harvest Moon Festival. Fuckers persistent and whoever’s paying him is determined,” Blitz interjected.

“And I haven’t forgiven you quite yet for neglecting to mention that to me until a few weeks ago,” Stolas said snippily, “it was quite the unpleasant surprise when you let that slip.”

“An assassin who is willing to hunt goetia and kidnap the partner of a Sin?” Alastor interrupted leaning forward with an interested gleam in his eyes. “Sounds like a fascinating individual.”

“He’s got a bone to pick and isn’t afraid to make that known,” Blitz said with a scowl, “he hates royalty and he's got a whole arsenal of blessed weaponry that I’m pretty sure makes Mox’ hard just thinking about.”

Well, that was certainly an interesting mental image. Mox had to be that lovestruck fool of an imp who had decided it was a great idea to sing a love song at Ozzie’s . It hadn’t been a bad song, even, just the wrong damn venue for it. He’d been kinda cute, in a sick sweet, sappily in love sort of way (and no, he wasn’t a hypocrite, absolutely not).

Angel Dust whistled. “Angelic weapons. Fuck , those are hard to get ya’ hands on. Val has a blessed pistol and I know that cost him a small fortune buying from Carmine.” 

“Well I have no idea where he managed to source them, but his collection is certainly extensive. I can speak from experience that being stabbed with a blessed knife is…unpleasant, “ Stolas said.

That…Ozzie would have to unpack that later. He’d known Stolas had been in hospital–hell’s, he’d seen the bandages a few days later–but that was one metric shit ton worse than he’d been expecting. He tried not to think of what would have happened to Fizz if Striker had decided to use that knife on him. 

“Well I don’t like that he’s been around,” he said, eyes narrowing, “Blitz, Stolas, if you see him let me know and I’ll see what I can do. I have people I can call”

“That would be most appreciated, thank you,” Stolas replied, then let out a regretful sigh “On that note, I really do have to go. I have a meeting with my own lawyers to discuss my divorce proceedings. I will leave the documents here for you to fully review.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ozzie saw Blitz's mouth at Fizz something along the lines of ‘ crazy bitch wife ’ and winced sympathetically. He’d never been a fan of Stella the handful of times they’d met, though the feeling was mutual given the way she’d looked at him at any gala they’d attended. The only nice thing that woman had brought into the world was Octavia–that owlet was cute.

“Sounds like a plan birdy babe,” Ozzie said and impulsively stepped forward, pulling Stolas into a brief hug, “don’t be a stranger. Fizz and Blitz are practically attached at the hip these days, we should do a double date sometime, yeah?”

Stolas looked surprised but then smiled hesitantly. “That would be pleasant Lo–I mean, Asmodeus.”

Clearly flustered, Stolas took the opportunity to wave his hands and with a swirl of starlit magic, opened a glittering portal back to what seemed to be his palace. Blitz gave them all an amused grin and a parting one-fingered salute, then jumped through with a wave. “See you fuckers later.” Stolas nodded and followed him through.

In the silence afterwards, Angel Dust chuckled. “Ya know, I’d forgotten how fun that guy was–once he stopped hanging out with Verosika he kind of fell off my radar.”

“He fell off everyone’s radar for a while,” Fizz said with a sigh, “possibly because Verosika threatened to burn him at the stake for ambience at her next show if he showed up anywhere near her.”

“If you are planning on discussing pop music ,” Alastor interrupted, the words ‘pop music’ seeming to drip from his tongue with disdain as he tidied the stack of papers, “I shall take this elsewhere to do my full review.”

“Wait, you know who Versokika Mayday is?” Angel Dust said, shocked, but it was already too late. In the time it took him to finish that sentence, the Radio Demon had already melted into the shadows, taking the paperwork with him.

Behind the bar, Husk stopped polishing the latest of many glasses and leaned forward towards them. “Between you and me, the boss knows a lot more about modern music than you’d expect. He ain’t as archaic as everyone thinks.”

Angel Dust and Fizz erupted into laughter, and within a few moments had fallen back into lively conversation with the bartender as they tried to extract more facts about the mysterious hotel manager from Husk. Ozzie however found himself falling into pensive silence. He had more than a little food for thought between the talk of Striker and Valentino.

Striker was the more straightforward issue. He didn’t think the hitman would go after Fizz again–not unless he had a death wish–but he didn’t like the idea of him just walking around either. Thankfully Blitz seemed to be surprisingly competent, so the problem might solve itself in time. Valentino meanwhile posed more of an immediate problem. He’d let himself avoid thoughts of the overlord this past fortnight but he couldn’t put it off any longer. The contract might not be quite ready, but if he didn’t do something to appease the moth, this would all be for nothing. 

As Fizz and Angel Dust talked,  he pulled out his phone and opened his text chat with Rozy. His assistant had been working overtime sending him through all the suggestions Valentino had been making. He’d have to remember to give her a bonus alongside her pay rise this year. Flicking through the messages, something caught his eye from a couple of days before:

At the time he’d ignored it–while he never complained about an opportunity to see Fizz dressed to the nines, who’d want to spend an evening at that particular gala (the answer was half of Pride, admittedly). However, on consideration, it would be the perfect opportunity to appease the moth without being forced into any… compromising situations.

“Hey Fizzy-frog, how do you feel about attending a gala?”

Chapter Text

Hazbin Hotel, Pentagram City (Four Days before the VoxTek Gala)

Later in the day, after Ozzie had excused himself to organise the logistics of attending the VoxTek Gala– and oh fuck, that was a thing that was actually happening –Fizz found himself trading work stories with Angel. They’d long since moved from the bar (though not before liberating a bottle of beelzejuice) to one of the lesser used lounges dotted around the hotel. 

Fizz had found a few of them when he’d taken some time to wander around one afternoon earlier that week. The whole place was labyrinthine and the more time he spent here, the more he suspected that whoever had built the hotel had used magic in its construction. Some corridors seemed to go on forever, there were countless unused rooms ranging from a full-sized ballroom to an empty indoor swimming pool tucked down an especially long corridor, and he’d been unable to map out any sort of logical floor plan. It was honestly fucking creepy, but not malevolent? So he was willing to let it slide.

This particular lounge was on the smaller side, but with an elaborate fireplace crackling with green flames, and a larger-than-life portrait of the Morningstar family hung above the mantle. Lilith’s eyes seemed to watch him and he was resolutely not thinking about that. Until recently, the furniture had been covered in white sheets, and they were still piled in the corner tucked behind an imposing wingback armchair. 

He found himself curled at one end of a plush velvet couch, while Angel stretched out at the other end, one sharp-booted foot resting on Fizz’s lap. The proximity was surprisingly pleasant. This wasn’t a situation he found himself in often, other than with Ozzie (and now occasionally Blitz), but he wasn’t complaining. Despite the way he might act, he was short on genuine friends. People wanted to fuck him or use him, not be buddies. If all he got out of this visit was a new friend, he’d count himself lucky. 

He took a sip from the bottle and enjoyed the sweet burn, then passed it over to Angel. They’d been talking shit about their respective jobs for the last hour or more, and he had a pleasant buzz going.

“Working at Ozzie’s is normally fine–I mean it’s Lust, everyone’s a bit of a freak–but there was this one time,” he said, gesturing wildly with his arm, the limb stretching for emphasis, “Blitz’s lovestruck employees showed up–back when I still hated his guts–and decided to make the whole club voyeurs to their sappy love story.”

Angel chuckled, taking a sip from the bottle. “Oh man , what the fuck,” the spider sinner said, “I may be stuck in this hellhole, but even I  know Ozzies ’ got a rep.”

Fizz nodded, the tails of his hat bouncing. “ Yes! It killed the whole vibe, made us look like amateur city, and then I got kicked in the head when Oz and I tried to break it up.”

Angel snorted and he half-heartedly poked him in retort. “Hey, where’s the sympathy? My head was ringing so badly I swear I saw little birds spinning around.”

“I dunno, you seem to have a pretty hard head,” Angel said, laughing as Fizz shoved at his leg. “Try havin’ one of the actors on a shoot and the camera operator start fuckin’. Jeff and Ronaldo decided that they wanted to have some sorta torrid love affair an’ make it our problems. Shoots were a nightmare that week, Ronny-boy kept growling every time Jeff touched me and Val seemed ready to shoot them both. We had to do so many retakes, I was sore for days.”

Fizz shook his head in mock sympathy. “Never fuck your coworkers.”

“Says you sleepin’ with your boss.”

“Business partner , I’ll have you know. Mammon was my boss, and there was no danger of that happening there.” Ozzie had made it crystal clear that he didn’t want to have that kind of power over Fizz, not when they first started sleeping together and certainly not now. Which was also why there was a contract declaring that Fizz had a fifty percent share of Ozzies , back in their safe at home. 

Angel pulled a face at the thought and Fizz gave a croaky huff of laughter. Thank Satan that Mammon was too busy chasing Leviathan’s tailfins to worry about fucking his employees. If that was even what the Sin was into? Honestly he wasn’t sure if Mammon wanted to fuck them, or if he genuinely had some kinda twisted romantic feelings for Leviathan, but he didn’t envy the Sin. Mammon was a lot to deal with even on his best days.

“Sooo , Jeff and Ronaldo? How’d that work out?”

Angel grinned. “Oh, it didn’t. Turns out Jeff wasn’t as in love as Ronny-boy, as it turns out–he caught him fucking one of the make-up artists–and got his heart broken. Then Val shot Jeff when he broke a camera and kicked him to the curb on Extermination Day.”

“Brutal,” he said, shaking his head before his arm out to pluck the booze out of Angel’s grip. He took a sip, mulling his thoughts over. “Speaking of Valentino…this gala–how bad’s it gonna be?”

He’d been trying really hard not to think about it the last few hours but that wasn’t a workable strategy. Not in the long term, anyway, and certainly not with barely four days until the gala was due to happen. Sure, going to the gala was the best idea they had, but that didn’t say much–they were stuck between a rock and a hard place. He’d do it if it meant helping Angel in the long run, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go. 

Angel frowned, picking at the fabric of the couch. “Honestly? Not that bad? At least not when it comes to Val. Vox keeps him on a pretty tight leash at these things–doesn’t want him tanking the stocks or somethin’ like that.”

“So that’s their thing? Valentino acts like a depraved lunatic and Vox’s the straight man?”

“Hah . No. Vox is just as insane as Val is, he just gets pissy about profits. It’s Velvette that keeps disaster at bay most of the time.” 

Velvette…Fizz knew of her from her Sinstagram posts and her clothing lines (some of the designs were damn cute, even if he’d never been allowed to step outside without his motley on in years), but that wasn’t much. “What’s she like?”

“...batshit insane. Violent. Kinda funny, in like a Mean Girls kinda way? I’d rather deal with her than Val or Vox, that’s for sure. Sometimes Val lends me out to model for her–it's pretty fun.” 

“That doesn’t sound too bad.” That description could for half the people he interacted with on a day-to-day basis down in Lust. 

Angel nodded. “Yeah, but she’s still one of the Vee’s–she’s fuckin’ ruthless when she wants to be. Still don’t know how conned herself into Vees, though.” He leaned back and took a long gulp of alcohol before continuing, lips twisting into a bitter expression. “Pretty sure I was on a year long bender then–thanks ta Val–when I sobered up enough, she was just there and nobody explained jackshit.”

“Huh.” That was worth digging into a bit more if they could find the time. “You gonna be at the gala?”

“Ain’t got no choice. Val wants me there as arm candy, so that’s where I’ll be. Gotta get glammed up an’ everything” Angel cocked his head, assessing Fizz. “Speakin’ of, what are ya wearin’?”

For the most part, Fizz had a response to everything. Quick retorts and quips were his damn bread and butter. However, on this particular occasion words failed him. His tongue felt weirdly heavy-damn beezlejuice, that was probably to blame. Was this stuff more potent than usual? He chuckled nervously, avoiding meeting Angel’s eyes. “Um–I hadn’t thought…probably just my motley? I have a shit ton of variations.”

The silence dragged out, and Fizz fidgeted. He didn’t like silence, dead air left too much time to overthink. Couldn’t Angel just say something? Finally he looked up and froze, caught in the headlights of Angel’s mismatched eyes. There was an assessing look to them that set him on edge. He felt entirely too seen.  People might write Angel Dust off because of his job, or the way he presented himself, but there was a shrewdness there that made Fizz feel far too seen. 

The sinner still didn’t speak, and he finally had enough. “...is there a problem with that?”

Angel took a breath, let it out. “It’s just–” he grabbed the bottle back, but didn’t drink, just tapped his gloved fingers against the glass. “Do you actually like wearing those? Like I’m not trying to insult your style, but you dress a helluva lot more casual here at the hotel than anything I saw on Sinstagram.”

Oh.

“I’m a jester, of course I like them,” he tried, giving his widest grin. Come on, this always worked–

“It’s just–look, Val likes me to dress in a specific way, alright? Guys like him always do. It just seems like maybe ya personal style might be a lil bit different than what that clown had you wearin’.” Angel sounded genuinely earnest, even as his uppermost shoulders were creeping upward in clear discomfort. 

Dammit. If Angel was gonna try his hand at being genuine,  he guessed he’d have to repay the favour even if he’d rather walk the tightrope over a bonfire. Needing a bit more liquid courage, he took the bottle back and drank. He was increasingly toeing the line from tipsy to drunk, but he needed the liquid courage. “ Fuck,” he muttered with feeling.

“Sorry?”

“Not, it’s not–” He tugged at the collar of his shirt–one of those casual outfits that Angel had mentioned. “Look at me.”

Angel tilted his head in confusion. “I am?”

Of course he looked confused–what would Hell’s most famous porn star know about being worried about how you look? He frowned, trying to figure out how to explain it. 

“Sure, Mammon had me wear the motley. It’s like a uniform, and now that I don’t work for him I don’t have to wear it, but…” he ran his right hand along the exposed metal of his other arm, the rubber pads on his hands only dully registering the sensation. Ozzie had done his best making them, but even he had his limitations. He had enough feeling to get by on, but it wasn’t the same.

“I’m more metal and scar tissue than anything else, Angel. The motley, these hats? Mammon said it was the only thing that made me look palatable to the public, that he needed me to hide that I was ‘ broken merchandise’, ” he spat, feeling his gut churn at the thought. “This is the first time me and Oz will be in public, after everything that happened. Everyone will be looking at us.” The first time they’d be out in public as a couple, he didn’t say, but he was sure his companion heard the unspoken words nonetheless. 

It really wasn’t how he’d wanted that to go (he’d wanted it to be lowkey, quiet , as much as that was unlike them both), but he wasn’t letting his boyfriend venture into the serpent’s den without him. 

Angel blinked, then blinked again, looking like he’d been hit over the head with a bat. His mouth worked, and Fizz fidgeted. Fuck, why had he been honest, Satan’s fucking balls, people did not want to hear him be honest–

“Bullshit,” Angel said with a ferocity that made him freeze, wide-eyed. “Mammon is a living shit stain if he talked about you like that. You’re fuckin’ hot. I think it, most of Hell thinks it, and that tall drink of water you call a boyfriend clearly thinks it as well.”

He had not been expecting the vehemence in the sinner’s voice, and felt his face heating. With the scarring there it didn’t show through, thank small mercies. “...thanks?”

“I get it–oh don’t gimme that look, I know I’m damn sexy, but also I’m a giant fuckin’ spider, do ya know how fucked up I felt when I woke up like this?–and I don’t wanna to push ya, but this is a big fuckin’ occasion, and the way I sees it, seems like maybe you could give Mammon a big fuck you and wear something else?”

It was one thing to have Ozzie tell him this–who he’d known for years and knew would walk through holy fire for him–and quite another to have an almost stranger–even if they were becoming a friend–tell him this so earnestly. His eyes burned a bit and he blinked rapidly (dammit, he wasn’t going to cry) and his throat felt tight. 

Angel was right, of course he was. He wanted more for himself than what Mammon had dictated for him. When he looked up, Angel was grinning smugly at him, and waiting expectantly. Fucker. “Fine. Yes, you’re right.” 

When Angel snorted and Fizz threw a pillow at him. “Laugh it up, why don’tcha, I know I'm hilarious.” There was only one problem…“Thanks for the pep talk, but even if I want to, my wardrobe isn’t full of fancy gala clothing.”

Angel grinned, reaching out and tugging on one hat tail. “Did ya forget who you were speakin’ to? Val wants me pretty–I know all the best places, and I think this calls for a shoppin’ trip.”

V Tower, Pentagram City (Three Days Before the VoxTek Gala)

“This is a disaster,” Vox groaned, slumping back against the back of the couch. His head hurt like a bitch, (and wasn’t that just the kicker, a block of electronics for a head and he still got migraines, only now they could short out a city block if he let them). “ Why did you invite Asmodeus and his sugar baby to the launch?”

“And why is that a disaster, amorcito ? I thought you wanted me to meet with him again?” Val drawled from the other end of the couch, pointedly lifting his feet to plant them on Vox’s lap. The black leather of his boots was studded and dug uncomfortably through the fabric of his pants. He fought the urge to pull a Val and fling his phone at his lover’s head. Hanging on to his self-control by a single filament, he instead elected to just lift his head just enough to glare at the smug fucker.

“I said ‘Val, take him to the club. Out for a drink. Anything where you could sound him out a bit more’–and not like that, you brat,” he snapped, letting electricity spark off him as the moth overlord opened his mouth (no doubt to make an off-colour joke), “you know exactly what I mean.” For his credit, Val managed to avoid reacting to the sting of the shock, even as the fluff around his neck stood on end from the static charge. Instead, Val just decided to be a brat.

“But I’m so good at sounding people,” Val grinned at him, all sharp teeth and smug expression as he ground his spiked boots into Vox’s leg. “You’ve never complained.”

He could just see Val waiting for him to call him out on it, but it wasn’t worth it. He didn’t need to deal with a tantrum today, not with all overtime he was doing on this fucking gala. With a Sin attending, they needed to capitalise on it–go bigger and better and get more paparazzi involved to make it look like a direct endorsement.

“It’s happening now, so what you need to do is figure out why Asmodeus is taking his sweet time getting you that deal proposal. I don’t trust it.”

Usually when issues like this happened, he just took care of it discreetly. There were plenty of up and  coming sinners who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he’d lost count of the times he’d just paid for the problem to go away. Angelic weaponry wasn’t that hard to come by, not if you had the money. Unfortunately, Asmodeus was not a small problem (both figuratively and literally) that could be taken care of in a dark Pentagram City alleyway.

Vox didn’t trust any of the Sins–they were the Seven Deadly Sins , it was in the fucking name – but Asmodeus had him especially on edge. VokTek was mostly focused on Pride Ring dealings, but he’d dealt with Mammon before, and while that Sin was a money-grabbing cunt (to use the bastard’s own language), that was something he understood. Asmodeus on the other hand was significantly more opaque in his motives and clearly too cozy with Lucifer’s daughter–and probably that stupid spider whore– for him to think the Sin wished Valentino well. For all he knew, the Sin had brought the princesses’ whole rainbows and puppy dogs vision hook line and sinker and thought all sinners needed redemption

(Personally, he thought Little Miss Morningstar was a hypocrite. She might be all for redemption, but the princess was also shacked up with Alastor, so she couldn’t have that many morals. Alastor was the worst of the worst and even an idiot could see that– huh , maybe that was it. The Princess of Hell was a naive little idiot that couldn’t see she had a goddamn monster lurking in her ramshackle hovel of a hotel.)

“Relax, Voxxy. He’s probably just busy.” Val said, and took a drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke at his screen. 

(Val said that as though he hadn’t been the one pacing their bedroom at four a.m two days ago, ranting about how Asmodeus was ignoring him, and was it him or had that backstabbing twink whore been poisoning the Sin against him.)

“Besides, what’s stopping me from sounding him out at the launch gala?” Val purred, reaching out a hand and stroking it up one of Vox’s antennae. 

The feeling sent electricity zapping down his spine and out through the complex network of nerves and wires that made up his physical form. He suppressed a shudder, though a faint electrical whine emanated through every piece of electronics in the room.

“You know how convincing I can be,” Val continued, before giving the antenna a sudden, sharp flick that made his entire screen glitch in a burst of pleasure-pain. “Stop being a whiny bitch Voxxy, and admit I did a good job.”

He could feel himself beginning to spark at that comment, and his eye twitched. “Whiny bitch ? I’ll show you–”

“Boys, BOYS. If you want to fuck about it, get a room.”

Velvette’s unamused voice snapped his attention across the room, to where she sat upside down on her own couch, eyes fixed on her phone. She was dressed casually–leggings and a cropped t-shirt with the logo of that pop singer (who Vel claimed she didn’t have a crush on), hair pulled into two fluffy buns. 

“We’re already in a room, babydoll,” Val drawled, and blew a heart-shaped smoke ring at her.

“Don’t give me that shit, or I will leak that video of you kicking a kitten,” she responded. “Just try me.”

Vox groaned, then shoved Val’s legs off so he could stand, rolling his neck with an audible popping sound (fucking heavy electronic piece of shit head, he was almost due an upgrade). “Let’s not. I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with that big of a PR scandal this week.”

“Then keep your hands to yourself when I’m in the room, you're the one with a voyeurism kink, not me.” 

That was–okay, Velvette did have a point. He shook his head, admitting defeat. “Deal.” 

Velvette finally looked away from her phone, smirking. “Besides, you’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

He frowned, feeling dread begin to well up. A smirking Velvette never boded well for him. “Oh?” he said, feigning casualness even as part of his mind started trawling through the cesspit that was Hell’s internet in search of impending problems. What exactly could it–

“Yeah babe, like the fact that Angel and Asmodeus’ jester are tearing up the city on a shopping spree.”

Fuck .

“WHAT???” he and Val screeched in unison. Val rolled off the couch (nearly kicky him in the crotch, what the fuck Val??) and lunged across the room, intent on grabbing Velvette’s phone. Velvette, used to this, simply snatched it out of reach.

“Uh uh, no touching or I will burn your wardrobe,” she said in a sing-song voice, but he knew the threat was real. Val rocked back, pouting at her.

With a groan (this was not helping his headache), he stood, feeling his knees crack and ache. Yet another small misery this wretched place inflicted on him, being functionally immortal and yet keeping the same shoddy joints that had plagued him since his thirties. He wandered over as Velvette rolled her eyes at him.

“Could you move any slower, gramps?” she said as he peered down at her phone. “Look only.”

Having captured both their attention, she held up the phone for their viewing. On screen a Sinstagram reel played.

Angel Dust posed in front of a mirror, wearing a slinky pink dress. It looked like the mirror of a changing room, all purple mood lighting with an opulent velvet curtain in the background. Not unusual for one of Angel Dust’s posts–when he was in Val’s good book she often went on shopping sprees–except for one thing: the other person with him, leaning into view of the mirror with a mischievous smirk.

FizzaRolli was an instantly recognizable sight. Even if they didn’t own Kitty, Vox had seen a lot of media featuring the jester–everyone in Hell had. He was a showbiz superstar throughout the rings, Mammon’s prized showpony (until that recent fumble by the Sin) that everyone wanted to see, be or fuck (he fell into the third category: sue him. Those robotic limbs had potential even if he was a weird looking fucker). He’d even tried to get him on a show once, but fucking Mammon was a greedy bitch and the price had not been worth it. One constant in every media appearance was the jester get-up: weird, garish but recognisable. It was his BrandTM that everyone knew. 

This was not that get-up. The imp was still wearing his jester hat, but that’s where the similarities ended. He wore a light teal shirt in some sort of shimmery fabric, neckline showing more white skin than Vox had ever seen on the imp, and those arms were on display. The pink choker was a nice cherry on top, and a good deal hotter than those ruffs he normally wore.

Beside him, Val looked torn between appreciating the imp and throwing a fit. “Angel…he’s making friends with that little salamander –” he hissed, and tried to grab the phone again. 

What came next could have been predicted by anyone other than Val: Velvette proceeded to kick him hard in the chest, sending him sprawling back and almost into the coffee table. Vox winced. Velvette might be dressed down today, but even her casual shoes featured brutally sharp heels (he knew this from experience, unfortunately).

“I said look but don’t touch,” Velvette sing-songed as Val wheezed on the floor. “Stop being a fucking baby, I bet I didn’t even break the skin.”

Val levered himself to glare at her, eyes narrowed. “Fuck you .” 

“You have your own phone, use it.”

Val glared at her for a moment before turning his gaze to Vox, turning on the puppy dog eyes. How Val pulled it off with those blank orbs of his, he didn’t know, but he was a master of it. “Voxxxxy ,” he trilled, “why don’t you come kiss papi better, hmm?”

“No.” 

Ignoring the outraged gasp from his lover, he turned to Velvette. “So Angel Dust and FizzaRolli are, what, shopping?”

“Got it in one, Vee. That’s not Angel’s only post, either. They’ve been all over town.” She scrolled through Sinstagram, showing a few more posts–Angel in another dress, Angel and Fizzarolli laughing together, the pair holding comically large to-go containers of bubble tea–each with an astounding amount of likes and comments. 

Interesting .

“What are people saying about it?” he asked, even as he devoted a section of his brain to searching out the information himself. He could find it, sure, but Velvette was the social media queen for a reason. 

“The people are obsessed,” she said with a grin. “The comments are filled with thirsty bitches demanding a collab.”

The part of Vox’s brain that was always plugged into the internet–truly a blessing and a curse–supported that summary. It seemed like the internet wanted more Angel Dust and FizzaRolli.  Half of Hell was already in a parasocial relationship with the sinner, and apparently, the other half regarded the jester similarly. They were practically salivating for a collab.

Personally, Vox would prefer if Asmodeus and his jester would never darken the Pride Ring’s doorstep again. Their presence here was far too dangerous, and every moment Val edged closer to making a deal made him want to scream and rip out his circuits.

But a collab between Angel Dust and FizzaRolli? Well, maybe that could be arranged if his other plans fell through.  A collab could be big . But whatever happened, they had to get on top of the narrative before Asmodeus could capitalize on this before they did. 

Hell, maybe if they proposed this, it would be enough to satiate the Sin’s desire for a deal–or put him off the whole business entirely–which would be a much safer prospect than any deal he currently wanted to make with Val and they could still make a profit.

Grin widening, he offered a hand to Val. “What do you say about making a secondary proposal to Asmodeus?”

Hours later, Vox sat in his control room, connected to the network of screens that filled the room. It was a feeling he never quite got used to–simultaneously occupying his (more or less) flesh suit while also being hooked into the wider electrical grid of Vee Tower and the bank of high-powered servers located dug into the bedrock of the Pride Ring far below their feet.  

It was freeing, outsourcing his mental capacity like this, but also left him feeling…unmoored, would perhaps be the best description, if he stayed this way too long. Despite the changes to his physical form wrought by death, his soul was still human and he doubted anyone was meant to exist this way for an extended period. There was a reason he kept backups of his memories, lest there be some unforeseen degradation over time.

On the monitors, countless shaky video clips played different viewpoints of the same event: Mammon’s Clown Pageant. The footage wasn't the best–not when so much of it was recorded on the cheap phones that were all most imps and hellhounds could afford–but it was still enough to get the general gist. FizzaRolli quits in what was admittedly the ballsiest resignation Vox’d ever seen, Mammon loses his shit and threatens the jester, Asmodeus shows up to protect his little sugar baby and reveals their relationship, and then Mammon throws a hissy fit and blows up his own stadium.  

He kept playing the clips over and over again, gears turning. Angry Mammon, ballsy jester, furious Asmodeus. He’d been dubious about the so-called love story between an imp and a Sin when the news had filtered up to the Pride Ring, but there was an undeniable note of genuineness to the Sin’s reactions. Besides, nobody blows up their brand that badly if they aren’t genuine.

The clips played again. Mammon threatens the imp, Asmodeus loses his shit.

Vox absently wondered what about this imp had a goddamn Deadly Sin so cockstruck. Asmodeus could probably have anyone he wanted, but apparently what he wanted was a quadruple amputee. Maybe it was a fetish?

It didn’t really matter–the point remained that this wasn’t some act: Asmodeus was in love with FizzaRolli and in that, an opportunity was presented,  a weakness that could be exploited, if needed.

The question was how.

Somewhere in his mind, a ding sounded as his peripheral sense network notified him that Velvette had just descended in the elevator and was approaching his doors (long before they ever slid open). He let the clips continue to play on the screens, their sound almost enough to muffle the ring of her footsteps on the metal catwalk.

“So this is where you slunk off to, should have known you’d be brooding in your mancave,” Velvette said, hopping up on the armrest of his chair. 

He turned and raised a virtual eyebrow. “One: not a man cave. It’s a highly specialised surveillance control room. Two: I’m working.” He gestured at the screens.

“Riiiiight . Because obsessing over Asmodeus and the imp is work.”

“It is when Val is dead set on signing a deal with him, and now we’re tossing around that collab.”

“So you were serious about the collab?” she asked with a slight frown. “It’ll make us bank if we can get it off the ground, but I thought you wanted that cock to get the fuck out of Pride and away from Val?”

For once Velvette seemed to be deadly serious. It wasn’t a face she showed often and never around Val. It was limited to the two of them, on nights like this. 

“Honestly? It seems like it might be the only way to salvage the situation. Maybe we can just get the collab and get Val to drop the other contract.”

Velvette tapped at her chin, lips twisted in a frown. “You think the piss baby would go for that?”

“Maybe? I’m pretty confident in my ability to distract him. Throw enough whores and drugs at him and he’ll be content to go back to humping his Asmodeus body pillow.”

“Ewww ,” she said, leaning as far as humanely away from him as she could without actually moving. “Oversharing much?”

Laughter crackled from every speaker in the room, and his face briefly flashed on every screen to smirk at her. “Don’t be such a baby, Vel. I know what you get up to behind closed doors. How many times have you watched Verosika Mayday’s latest music video, hmm?” Clips of Verosika gyrating on stage played briefly before the clown pageant returned. 

Velvette’s face screwed up in distaste and she shoved him in the shoulder. “Fucking gross old man.”

When he refused to play ball, she sighed and turned her attention to the monitors. “So this is what you’re obsessing–sorry, working on? Mammon’s clown pageant, right? I saw the clips–the jester has balls of fucking steel.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “He’s also got Asmodeus wrapped around his little finger, from the looks of things. He picked a fight and had a Sin jump in as his protector.”

Velvette, bless her cold dead heart, caught his meaning immediately. “So FizzaRolli is his weakness? Why don’t we use that to get him to drop the deal?”

“Maybe? It’s the obvious answer but how.” If he still had a nose bridge he’d pinch it right now. “Fuck , why did Sins have to get involved. If this was any other potential investor I’d have him dead in a ditch somewhere by now.” 

“But that’s not an option?”

He barked out a laugh. “Not unless you’re confident that angelic weaponry would kill a Sin, and that we wouldn’t get caught.”

When she didn’t immediately respond, he turned to stare at her. “Vel. Velvette . Don’t tell me you’re thinking about that seriously?”

She shrugged “Angelic weaponry was enough to kill an exterminator. Who the fuck knows at this point.”

It had been clear after the Overlord meeting that Carmilla Carmine had been behind the unexpectedly dead angel. From there, it had taken less than a week of tracking her movements during Extermination Day to capture her fight. They’d filed that information away for a rainy day, but he wasn’t sure today was the day to utilise that.

“ Maybe it could kill–or at least hurt– a Sin, but is it worth painting a target on our backs to try?” he asked, and Velvette gave another shrug.

They dropped into silence, thinking the issue over. Velvette pulled out her phone and started scrolling. Almost five minutes went by, when her scrolling suddenly stopped and she held her phone to him. “Vee, did you see this a few months back?”

On screen was a shaky video clip showing footage of FizzaRolli and another imp tussling on the ground. The other imp looked familiar as well, though he couldn’t quite place him…and then a fucking lasso pulled them off screen. What the absolute fuck?

“No–what the hell am I even looking at?”

Velvette smiled. “Rumour is it that some jumped up mobster–Crimson–down in Greed managed to kidnap FizzaRolli. It didn’t work and now Asmodeus has them running scared.”

With a gesture he zapped the footage to the monitors and slowed it down, saw a lasso descend again around the pair but its owner was hidden. Other footage was pulled up. Nothing, nothing, nothing- 

THERE .

In an open window, there was a hellborn in a cowboy hat leaning out the window, the other end of the lasso in hand and a nasty smirk. The footage also revealed a clear look at the other imp, who clearly also had beef with FizzaRolli.

Vox sent his senses parking out through the system and got a couple of hits: Striker and Blitz Buckzo.

Striker seemed clear cut: a hit man, and damn good one if the some of the crimes the system pulled up were true. Was wanted for the kidnapping of FizzaRolli and the suspected murders of several high-ranking hellborn across the Rings. He clearly had a bone to pick with Hell’s elite beyond a simple desire for money.

Blitz Buckzo was a more interesting case. Vox realised why he looked familiar–the ad for his business had gone viral a few months back and the jingle had been everywhere . An imp who started out as a dime a dozen hitman before taking an unexpected turn into Earth-based assassination service. Rumoured to be sleeping with a Prince of Hell. The son of the owner of the Buckzo Family Circus–a circus only notable for a. Burning down, and b. being FizzaRolli’s childhood circus according to various interviews Vox could access. Willing to punch FizzaRolli on sight. 

“Vel, I think you may have just found the solution to our problems.”

Chapter Text

Hazbin Hotel, Pentagram City - Pride Ring (One Day before the VoxTek Gala)

The rest of the week sped on in an inexorable blur of pre-gala preparations for Ozzie. There was far more than he’d anticipated. Not only that, but the reality of what he had signed himself and Fizz up for had dawned slowly on him. This wasn’t some Lust Ring function where he ruled the roost–he was tossing the both of them into the proverbial shark tank of Pride’s most unpleasant Sinners.

This had led him to the frankly mind-numbing task of trying to prep up on who might be attending. Sure he might be good with faces and names, but he didn’t enjoy trying to memorize them ahead of a function. He’d tried to get Angel Dust’s help with it initially, but it turned out that beyond his insights into the Vee’s his insights were more limited.

(“I don’t know what ta tell ya, big daddy, I spend more time on my back than payin’ attention to the bigwigs the Vees run with,” Angel Dust had explained a couple of nights before, sipping on the pina colada  (virgin due to Charlie’s instance around moderation of vices). “To them, I’m just a pretty face an’ some holes to be pimped out, and besides, Val likes to keep me coked up for these kinda events. Thinks it’s funny or sumthin’.”

Ozzie had sipped his own drink (distinctly not virgin, thank you kindly), and refrained from commenting on how fucked up that was. 

He expected that Angel Dust knew more than he let on–and certainly a lot more about the vices of those bigwigs–but he knew better than to press. The more he learned about the sinner, the more he realised there were whole strata of trauma going back years , each layered on top of the other. It would take decades of work and expert help unearth it all, and he was NOT an expert (except in the field of having his own trauma).

He’d also made a mental note to talk to Belphegor about sending Charlie some therapists. When she ended up taking on more guests–and he was sure it would happen sooner or later, even if he had to help her advertise himself–they were going to need help. Charlie meant well, but she was nowhere near qualified to deal with the shit that some of these sinners had probably experienced–both pre- and post-death. Without professional assistance, she was setting herself up for failure.)

Of all people, Alastor had ended up being the most helpful–for all he’d been gone for seven years (and dammit if Ozzie wasn’t curious about that, the Pride Ring was big but not that big)–he’d been keeping his ear to the ground since he returned. The overlord was chock full of tasty tidbits about the who’s who of Pentagram City. He’d been unusually generous with the knowledge shared as well, and Ozzie was trying not to look the gift horse in the mouth. He hoped this was just the byproduct of Alastor’s distaste for the Vee’s at work and not anything more elaborate.

(he suspected it was both.)

He’d also been left with the unenviable task of figuring out what to wear to this damn thing. Normally dressing up wasn’t an issue, but this time felt different. It didn’t help that he knew Fizz already had his outfit sorted out–had promised a surprise–and he didn’t want to disappoint on his end. 

That was easier said than done, however.

Nothing had felt quite right, to the point that he’d even portalled back to the Lust Ring and dragged half his wardrobe back to the hotel (an immense amount of clothing given his tendency not to throw away anything) in an attempt to figure out what to wear, to no avail. A full morning had been wasted as he’d become more and more overwhelmed with the options on hand.

It had spiralled to the point that even Charlie had noticed and decided to intervene. After plying him with tea (which had required far too much sugar to make it drinkable, he had no idea how she made it so badly) and making him sit down and tell her the problem, she’d insisted on offering her support. 

Unfortunately almost an hour later, they had failed to make any progress. He stared at the pile of clothing on the bed and groaned. So many fucking clothes and yet I have no idea what to wear , he thought in despair, and I love her dearly, but Charlie is being zero help for all that she was trying her best . 

Case in point:

“I think this is sooo romantic of you, Uncle Oz,” Charlie said from the other side of the bed where she was sprawled out on her stomach. It was nice seeing her static for a moment or two–she always seemed to be buzzing with nervous energy to DO SOMETHING GREAT –but he wished that lack of movement could come without taking this line of conversation. 

“Hmm?” he murmured in response, hoping that she might leave it as he picked up another suit (metallic gold with bright orange tassels, absolutely not , what had been thinking when he got this? Where had he got this, for that matter?). “What is?”

“Taking Fizz out to a ball–”

“It’s a gala.”

“–as your boyfriend, dressing up fancy to impress him–”

“You have to dress up for this sort of thing.”

“–and proclaiming your love to all of Hell.”

Dammit.

He sighed, shaking his head. His niece took romanticism to a whole new level. “Charlie, this isn’t a fairytale. It’s a gala thrown by three of the most bloodthirsty overlords in Pride, that we’re attending as part of a long con to trick one of them out of his soul contracts.”

The residents of the hotel aside (and even that was a stretch when it came to Alastor), he was still not exactly fond of the general population of sinners. There was a reason they were in Hell after all–even if the ones that went to Heaven were probably an insufferable bunch of rule followers–and the ones that managed to survive and thrive long enough to be invited to a VokTek gala? Probably the worst of the bunch.

There was very little he wanted less than to spend a whole evening making nice with them, but at least it meant he had plenty of meat shields between him and Valentino. 

( Father above have mercy on them both, they were going to need it )

Fizz meanwhile seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride–or at least making a very good show of pretending–it was hard to tell sometimes. He shouldn’t be surprised. Fizz was far better than him at putting up with assholes–fuck Mammon for teaching him to do that with years of practical experience–and it wasn’t his first time having to shmooze with sinners. Mammon wasn’t one to neglect a potential audience to squeeze for cash, so Fizz had been made to perform in Pride before. 

It probably helped that Angel Dust was also attending. Those two had bonded at an alarming speed–a surprise for someone as picky as Fizz was about friends–and the fact that they’d be in different Rings soon enough was a damn shame. Fizz deserved to have more friends he didn’t have to travel between rings to see. 

In an ideal world, once all the Valentino business was done and dusted, he’d just offer Angel Dust a place in the Lust Ring. It seemed like the spider sinner would thrive there–he’d make one hell of a sight at Ozzie’s –no matter what path he decided to take. Unfortunately, the treaty Lucifer had signed centuries ago with Heaven was exacting : sinners were limited to Pride for early extermination, and in exchange, the rest of Hell and the hellborn (or rather some hellborn) were left alone. It made the experience rather like shooting fish in a barrel, rather than the demented game of hide and seek it had previously been.

(It wasn’t until a few years into his relationship with Fizz that he’d learned the truth: while imps and hellhounds might be hellborn, they were often collateral damage on Extermination Day if they couldn’t evacuate. Even if Exterminators didn’t actively target them, the sheer amount of property damage that occurred often killed them just as effectively as a sword. But since the rest of Hell didn’t care about them, nobody had ever taken steps to protect them. 

When Fizz had explained that, he’d felt physically ill. He spent so fucking long focused on what happened in Lust, it hadn’t even occurred to him to consider the conditions in other rings. Out of sight, out of mind and all that bullshit.)

The best he’d be able to do was offer Angel Dust a job up here in Pride, something that meant he had the freedom to keep the friendships (including the one with Fizz) that he wanted. However, the more he got to know the sinner, the more he was sure that his acceptance wasn’t a done deal. 

Fizz would just have to visit Pride, but given he was already making regular jaunts up to see Blitz, it would be fine. 

(Which he wasn’t concerned about, not all. Definitely wasn’t concerned about the risk of potential kidnappings, oh no not him. Absolutely not. And he definitely didn’t consider sending a legion of bodyguards with Fizz whenever he came up here. That would be crazy. Ha ha.)

A balled-up shirt hit his chest and he blinked. Charlie now sat cross-legged on the bed, looking at him with an expectant expression. Apparently, she hadn’t missed him spacing out. For a brief moment, he hoped she’d drop the subject.

“So you’re not looking forward to showing off Uncle Fizz, then?” she asked, and he could tell from the smug set of her expression that she already knew the answer. She was getting away with that as well because all he could hear was her calling Fizz her uncle. 

Fuck that was sweet . Hearing her treat Fizz as part of the family…it was goddamn heartwarming. She was also entirely too perceptive. Because he was excited to be seen with Fizz-properly, not as business partners but as a couple -even if it terrified him. This wasn’t something he’d ever done before, not in his entire life, and now he was going to do it in front of the worst of Hell’s sinners. 

“ Fine , fine–maybe a little,” he admitted. “But I really doubt it's going to be romantic, not when Valentino is anywhere in the vicinity.”

At that, Charlie pulled a face before flopping back on the bed. “You may have a point, he’s such a creep.”

“Oh I agree, I can’t believe I’m letting Fizz into his vicinity.”

“It seems like he's pretty good at sticking up for himself?” 

He sighed, and circled the bed to sit beside her. “I know–he’s so damn tough, it’s amazing. That doesn’t mean I don’t worry.”

Propping herself up to look at him, Charlie gave a half-hearted smile. “...I get the same, about Vaggie. She’s so strong but I still worry.”

“She’s a spitfire, that's for sure. It seems like the two of you have something special. You two lovebirds are really something else Char-bear.”

Charlie’s smile grew, becoming giddy. He could practically see hearts appearing in her eyes. “I love her so much Uncle Ozzie, I can’t believe that I was lucky enough to meet her.”

“How did you meet?” That particular story had been missing in all the gushing Charlie had done.

Charlie looked genuinely surprised at the question. “Oh, I haven’t told you? It was on Extermination Day four years ago–don’t make that face, it’s not like the Exterminator would hurt me–I wanted to see if there was anyone I could help. I found her in an alleyway…she was hurt so badly, I think she had a close call with an exterminator–that’s how she lost her eye, and I ended up taking her home with me.”

A chill went down his spine. Extermination Day? A close call that resulted in a missing eye but not death? Fuck. Fuuuuuck . All the puzzle pieces began to slot into place about who– what –Vaggie was and more importantly, what Charlie didn’t know. How could she, talking like that?

He'd had his suspicions of course–how could he not–but he'd been hoping he'd been mistaken, or at least that she wasn’t one of those types. Heaven was filled with plenty of different options, surely one of them could have Fallen instead?

Meanwhile, Charlie kept talking, gushing on. “I want to scream it from the rooftops, sometimes. Vaggie–she’s everything to me, and I want the whole of Hell to know it.”

“It sounds like you love her a lot,” he replied, on autopilot as his thoughts continued to race.

“I do, and I hope–I want her to know that.” She fell silent then, fingers worrying at the fabric of a nearby piece of clothing. “She’s…I want to marry her one day,” she said in a small voice.

 There was something vulnerable in her expression, a fragile hope that was impossible to miss. Suddenly he was hit with a memory ten millennia old–of Lucifer admitting that he was in love with Lilith, that he wanted to be with her–that was eerily similar.

This might be a problem , he thought, feeling somewhere between panic and bemusement , leave it to Lilith’s daughter to find an angel in Hell to fall in love with . Not only that, but a Hell’s forsaken Exterminator?

How Charlie would process the fact that she was in love with a mass murderer (because that's what Exterminators were, Heaven manufactured serial killers), he wasn’t sure. Probably not well. His niece believed in second chances, forgiveness in all things, but surely that had a limit? The only thing he knew for sure was it would definitely go a lot better if Vaggie told her herself rather than Charlie finding out.

Keeping those thoughts to himself, leaned over and gathered her up into a hug. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. That girl’s lucky to have you in her life.”

She’ll be lucky to stay alive if she doesn’t admit to Charlie what she is , he thought, four years and she hasn’t told Charlie? She better have a good reason for lying to her . 

Charlie wrapped her arms around him for a few seconds, then pulled back. “So what about you?” There was a sudden cheekiness to her tone that had him nervous.

“Me? I don’t–”

“Any wedding bells in your future?”

He spluttered. Marriage wasn’t something he’d ever considered either in general, for him and Fizz ( liar, liar pants on fire ), and he wasn’t even sure if it was something either of them would want. It hadn’t even been an option until recently, what with them keeping things secret. 

“I love Fizz with all of me, but I don’t know if that’s on the cards for me.”

Charlie clearly got the message because she let the topic drop.

A few more minutes passed, and he resumed picking through clothing and plotting how he could have the Talk with Vaggie. It wasn’t going to be easy, that was sure. For a moment he considered roping Lucifer into the process, but dismissed it almost immediately. Better to leave his brother out of it for now. 

Charlie and Lucifer had made so much progress already. Lucifer had even invited Charlie over to the palace earlier in the week, and she’d come back practically gushing with excitement. They’d had an arts and crafts day making ducks. Charlie had made an, uh… interesting depiction of Vaggie as a duck that was now sitting on the bar. It seemed like a step in the right direction.

However, these were still early days. They were just starting to rebuild those broken bonds, this wasn't the time to throw a panicking ex-angel into the mix. But he needed to do it soon . Probably not before the gala but–

“You should wear this.”

He blinked as Charlie tossed something, interrupting his train of thought. He looked down at the piece of clothing and then back at her. “Are you sure…?” 

Charlie wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of fashion expertise, and he couldn’t help but feel that she had picked something red due to her own bias towards the colour. 

She rolled her eyes, sensing his doubt. “Trust me, I know what Fizz is wearing.”

Well, that decided it, then. 

He looked down at the item in his hands. It was certainly going to be a night to remember. 

Hazbin Hotel, Pentagram City - Pride Ring (Day of the VoxTek Gala)

On some unspoken agreement, Ozzie and Fizz decided to get ready separately. This was a sense of anticipation as Fizz stole off to Angel’s room to get ready with the sinner. Ozzie wasn’t used to feeling nervous and yet as he made the final adjustments to his outfit he couldn’t help but feel the churn of what be hellmoths in his stomach. 

As he checked himself over in the mirror for what felt like the fiftieth time, the door creaked open and he glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see Fizz stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Whatever thoughts he’d had scattered as the sight of Fizz made his mouth go dry. His hands flexed and in that moment he cursed every entity that might hear that they had to leave the hotel. Fuck the gala, fuck their plans–his boyfriend looked like sin incarnate, a temptation ready to be devoured whole.

The imp had put away the motley and replaced it with a resplendent outfit in the deep blues and cyan of Ozzie’s own colouration. A dark blue shirt with loose blousy sleeves and ruffles reminiscent of Fizz’s usual clown ruff, under a waistcoat embroidered with abstract cyan and gold designs. Only the jester hat remained as usual, in the same rich colours as the rest of the outfit. 

He thought he understood now why Charlie had suggested he wear this dress–blood-red velvet with delicate beading draped across his back in gold and white pearls–tonight. In these outfits, they looked made for each other, a matched set, ready to take on anything. 

Despite all their years together, he had never seen Fizz in his colours and the sight awoke something primal in him. He liked seeing him like this, a declaration to all of Hell that he and Fizz belonged together. He was torn between the impulse to just stand here and drink in the sight, or fuck their plans and drag Fizz back to bed. 

It finally occurred to him that he’d been standing here in silence too long when Fizz began to fidget nervously at his cuffs. “Do you like it? Angel insisted it looks good but I’m not sure if it’s–”

Fizz never finished his sentence, because Ozzie crossed the room in a few long strides and dipped him into a passionate kiss. It took only a moment for the imp's arms to wrap around his neck and to enthusiastically return the kiss. The glide of their lips against each other was intoxicating and Fizz’s body was a brand against his own, impossibly hot. 

Several breathless seconds later Fizz pulled back, expression now smug. “I guess that answers my question.” 

“Froggy, babe, if we didn’t have to go to this gala you wouldn’t be leaving this bedroom for the next twelve hours. At a minimum,” he said, voice rough with desire. Fuck, his partner just looked so good. He wanted to devour him. 

Against him, Fizz shivered. “ Dammit , don’t say things like that Oz, not when we have to leave.”

“Hmmm, but I know you love it,” he purred, taking the opportunity to nip at the sliver of exposed skin underneath Fizz’s jaw. He felt more than heard the groan, and pulled back to smirk. “You know, we don’t have to leave quite yet, we could–”

CRASH.

The door to the room slammed open and they both snapped their heads in that direction. He could feel flames bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to respond to the threat–

Oh. 

Well, that was unexpected.

Blitz stood silhouetted in the doorway, looking like he’d been pulled through a hedge backwards. Half a dozen guns were strapped to him, and an oddly familiar pair of imps trailed behind him.

There was a long moment of silence as Blitz eyed them both, eyebrows raised incredulity. “Fucking seriously ? I spend all Satan damned day trying to get ahold of you assholes–do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to contact people without using a cellphone–and you’re busy necking like teenagers?”

“...what are you doing here, Blitz?” Fizz asked, exasperation bleeding into his voice at the interruption. He made no attempt to unwrap himself from Ozzie and if anything his grip tightened. “We’re kind of busy.”

“ Sure you are,” Blitz replied with a snort, “but you better make yourselves unbusy–we have a problem.”