Summary: The morning after their wild sex session, Blitzø is pampered by Stolas and then arrives to work late, where Loona notices that he smells like ozone. I.M.P. go about their day, though they all express concern about Blitzø's mental health after he went feral. Time passes, and Blitzø can't get rid of the urge to check on Stolas.
Meanwhile, Stolas is also dealing with instincts he doesn't understand and sudden bouts of sickness, leading him to cancel their next full moon appointment. This causes Blitzø to almost go feral again out of worry, though Loona and M&M manage to comfort him.
Content warning
Marital rape (non-explicit), domestic abuse, fertility issuesChapter 3
Posted: 27/10/2024
Status: Ongoing
Author's note: This chapter is 6969 words long. Hoping it publishes fine. Italics weren't showing up in the draft and I kinda have...a whole-ass section in italics.
As promised, Stolas keeps Blitzø updated on his condition.
That is, after he’s taken some time to have a little panic attack. Or two. And a half.
Stolas lets out a shuddering breath. Of course, of all the afflictions, it had to be that. Though in hindsight, he should have expected it, considering their lack of precautions taken during…activities. Heavens, he should have recognized the symptoms. He just didn’t think it’d happen again.
He didn’t think it was even possible. Not after last time.
He stares at his phone, held in shaking talons. How is he supposed to even broach the subject? Send him a text? Just call him casually, all “Yes hello Blitzy, my physician came by, and it turns out that I’m—
“You’re what?!” Blitzø’s screech is heard by none except his next-door neighbors, who bang their fists against the thin wall separating them. He quickly covers the phone to shoot them a meaningful “FUCK OFF, YOU PROLAPSED ASSHOLES” before going back to his phone. They can’t complain about him yelling when he and Loonie have to constantly hear them fuck like rabbits.
(They don’t even sound that into it either, it’s loud in a very performative way. What’s even the point of having sex, then? Just to piss him off, personally? Bitch-ass motherfuckers.)
Not too long ago, Blitzø came back from work after an intense mission involving an excessive number of lumberjacks. With M&M off on their fancy anniversary date and Loona at a party in Gluttony, Blitzø hasn’t much to do other than check his phone. A lot. Obsessively. He’s embarrassed by how quickly he presses the ‘accept’ button when it finally lights up with Stolas’ nickname and profile picture—
Only for the bird to drop this absolute bombshell on him.
“It’s as I said, Blitzy, I’m—” Stolas’ unusually meek voice answers his outburst.
“No, I heard it, no need to repeat it. Actually, please don’t, I might have a panic attack if you do.” Blitzø replies honestly. “Just— Are you serious? You’re not fucking with me, are you?”
Stolas stutters, overwhelmed by Blitzø’s quick-fire rambling.
“N-no, I swear to you, darling, I am quite serious. And just as surprised as you are.”
“Fuck.” Fuck. He paces around the room, tail whipping behind him and spines raised, then finally settles back on the couch. “Fuck, okay.”
“I’m…sorry for dropping this on you, dear.” Stolas’ voice is soft, so unsure.
“‘s fine. Well, no, not really, but— Just. Give me a moment. That’s…fuck, what the fuck.” He groans, hitting the back of the couch with his horns.
Stolas only hums in response. Blitzø’s tail flicks against the armrest, producing a rhythmic tap-tap-tap.
“Fuck.” Blitzø repeats again, for good measure.
“Indeed…” Stolas agrees, tone wry.
“You know what, portal me up. I think we need to do this in person.”
There is a brief silence, but Stolas eventually agrees, albeit hesitantly.
“…alright, Blitzø.”
Stolas calls him by his name, and not any of the usual nicknames or mildly condescending terms of endearment, which is certainly a testament to his distressed mental state.
Blitzø doesn’t like it as much as he thought he would.
Stolas hangs up, and Blitzø tries very hard to wrangle his abandonment issues (he’s literally about to open a portal, you clingy little bitch, the fuck is wrong with you). He stands from the couch and starts pacing immediately, then practically jumps through the portal the moment it appears before his eyes. All in the span of a few seconds.
He doesn’t have a problem.
(Okay, he has many problems. And this is one of them. Maybe not the biggest, but a pretty significantly sized one still.)
And here, in front of him, sits Stolas on that impossibly comfy bed, wearing nothing but his favorite, carelessly sexy robe. His long legs are crossed and jiggling nervously, and his hands are resting on a pile of papers on his lap. His gaze is anxious, those usually so expressive glowing reds now staring into nothing.
(He can’t help but draw parallels to the vision that’s been haunting his nightmares and wet dreams in equal measures. The image of Stolas, sat with his legs crossed in front of him. Except he doesn’t look at him from atop a throne, isn’t wearing his royal regalia, doesn’t smile like he knows something Blitzø doesn’t, isn’t holding gold chains but what looks like medical papers instead. The contrast makes him look…strangely normal. Vulnerable. Almost…attainable.)
***
The first and last time it had happened, Stolas had barely just turned 18 and subsequently married Stella. They’d been trying for weeks now, each attempt more humiliating and traumatizing than the next.
Once, he’d thought he and Stella would be in this together. They would never love each other, but at the very least they could be allies in this mutually unwanted situation. With their respective sets of skills and temperaments, they could balance each other well and stand tall against the ruthlessness of the rest of the Goetia family.
He quickly gave up on that delusion when she first raised her hand against him.
He had no allies in this place.
“You just need to do one thing, Stolas! One!” She screamed at him after yet another failed attempt. “I don’t enjoy this either, but I’m not whining about it! We have a job to do, and we will do it, whether you like it or not.”
Due to his status and the number of responsibilities he had to attend to in comparison to hers, it had been decided by the family that she would be carrying their egg so that he could continue attending to his duties during the carrying period.
It was not going well.
No matter how many times they tried, how many potions and spells they tried, it did not work.
So Stella took matters into her own hands.
“Drink this.” She’d ordered one day. “Clearly you’re too pathetic to do anything right, so we will be doing this my way.”
Inside a cup was a fertility potion he was quite familiar with, having brewed a few of those himself for her to drink. This particular potion would increase ovulation in the one who consumed it. Up until now, Stella had been the one to take those, as the assigned carrier. And now, she was telling him to drink it himself.
The message was clear then.
He drank the potion, followed her to their temporarily shared quarters, and let her do whatever she needed to do. He simply lay there, mind drifting away from his body to escape the deep feelings of shame threatening to bubble over. When it was over, she quickly redressed and left for her private quarters without sparing even a single glance at her husband. He’d curled around himself, then, and let himself break down in the marital bed, feeling filthier than he’d ever had.
And of course, it had taken immediately.
Stolas was gravid.
After hearing their physician’s diagnosis, Stella had leveled him with a glare of smug disdain. Of course, he couldn’t do anything right, and now she had to resort to this. He had tried many times and failed, and she just had to do it once and was immediately successful.
“Whatever would you do without me, darling?” She’d mocked him.
He kept mute. She was right, of course.
Back then, he thought the conception would be the hardest part.
He thought wrong.
***
Stolas never thought it would happen again, for many reasons, ranging from his and Stella’s general unwillingness to interact with each other to other more…physical reasons.
But of course, Blitzø never fails to surprise him. If anyone could manage to overcome a seemingly impossible obstacle, it would be him, wouldn’t it?
He stares at the panicked imp stumbling through his portal, phone still in hand, screen cracked but device surprisingly not broken despite his visible agitation. His poor darling has always had the unfortunate habit of crushing his phones in varying fits of emotion, losing control of his impressive strength in the process. That strength of his has always been one of his most attractive assets, in Stolas’ humble opinion.
Soft warmth fills his heart. Oh, how he’s missed him. Ever since their…wild night together, he’s been longing for him even more than before. Not in the usual carnal and emotional way, but also in a more…intangible manner.
Like his very soul itself has been reaching out to Blitzø’s.
Stolas knows what this means.
The warmth is immediately snuffed by cold guilt.
When Blitzø learns of what Stolas did to him, to them both, on that night they both succumbed to their basest instincts, will he be able to find it in himself to forgive him?
Stolas wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.
(He certainly wouldn’t forgive himself, in his place.)
The first thing Blitzø notices once he fully steps into Stolas’ room is that his—the bird, is not doing well.
(The bird, not his bird. He needs to keep reminding himself of that. Stolas will never be his, no matter how much he wishes otherwise. No matter how many times he sneakily scents him and leaves mating bites that always fade from that delicate body. It is, and will always be, temporary.)
And why wouldn’t he be unwell? He’s just discovered he’s carrying some…part-imp parasite, courtesy of his impish little plaything. No self-respecting Goetia would appreciate being impregnated by some lowborn scumbag, especially not this lowborn scumbag, raised in a filthy circus and barely even literate. One who is a thief and murderer, and whose only two skills are killing and fucking. And one of those skills is precisely what landed them in this situation.
(He thinks of golden chains slipping from delicate hands, their owner finally tired of the pet on the other end of the heavy leash.)
This might be it. This might be the moment this all ends. Stolas will take back his book, have him offed for tainting royalty in such a way, and his daughter and employees will be left to pick up the pieces of their failing business. Provided they are even left alive for being associated with him.
…but that’s not quite right, is it? Because Stolas didn’t ask him to bring the book, didn’t express any anger or disgust toward him. All he’s done, is currently doing, is sitting on his bed with this lost expression. And, despite it all, he knows Stolas isn’t petty like that. Even when he’s at his most condescending, his most infuriatingly ignorant…Stolas is kind. He wouldn’t fuck them over like this.
(…not on purpose, at least.)
But no matter how kind, this is more than either of them signed up for. This…child, provided Stolas doesn’t immediately abort it, ties them together in a way that is too permanent, too real.
Too irreversible.
Blitzø wants it, wants to be attached to Stolas. Whether it’s by a chain or a hand tenderly holding his—
Blitzø has never claimed to be a good person. But he knows he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Stolas was forced to keep him against his will, all because of an unfortunate twist of fate. He knows he wouldn’t forgive himself either if he treated this child like a convenient means to an end.
(Like he’s been treated, himself. By the shitbag that provided half his genes. By clients. Friends. Lovers. Demon society at large. By his very own self.)
“So, uh…” Blitzø starts, hesitant. “I know I already asked, but this is legit, right? You’re not, like, fucking with me? Because let me tell you, that would be fucked up, even for you— Not that I’m saying you’d do that, doesn’t seem like your style. You’re usually more straightforward with your jokes, and you don’t really look like you’re in a kinky mood and— Shutting up. Sorry.”
At least, his mindless ramblings earn him a soft, weak smile. Take that, abandonment issues, he’s still got it.
“I am…very much serious, I’m afraid, as those papers can attest” Stolas answers, gesturing to the medical papers in his lap, then putting them next to him on the bed. “Not that I think this is necessarily a bad thing! I’m just…surprised, I didn’t think this could even happen. Physically.”
“Yeah, I didn’t even know you could get pregnant in the first place. Aren’t you, like, a male Goetia?” He gestures vaguely to Stolas. “Though to be fair, I can’t really tell the difference, your birdy bits probably all look the same from the outside.”
“Oh, all Goetia have the ability to both bear and impregnate. Secondary sexual characteristics notwithstanding, we all possess both sets of reproductive organs. And the term is gravid, technically.” Stolas says casually like it’s well-known knowledge. And fuck, maybe it is, and Blitzø is the only one who didn’t know, wouldn’t be the first time he’s kept out of the loop about something seemingly basic. But this also means…
“You knew that and you let me hit it raw?!” He exclaims, with all the tact he is known for.
“W-well,” Stolas tries to justify, “I never thought this would even be possible. For…various reasons.” Stolas gestures vaguely, finding his own talons much more interesting to look at than Blitzø’s bewildered face.
“…fair I guess, I’ve never heard of any of you feather dusters popping implings out of your bird hoo-has.”
“…right.” Stolas replies with a grimace. Normally, Blitzø’s crude words would make him laugh, but now they seem to have the opposite effect instead. Wow, Blitzø, great going! Way to make the bird feel better about that surprise pregnancy you caused because you didn’t wrap it before tapping it. Can’t even offer proper comfort, what kind of shit mate are you—
Woah. Hold up.
Where’d that one come from?
Blitzø can’t even use the excuse of being feral for his possessive thoughts, he’s been feeling uncharacteristically clear-headed since he entered Stolas’ room, like a fog has been lifted from his mind. There’s still a strong desire to be closer, to hold him, to scent him, to preen his feathers in the way he knows his bird likes. Those are all desires that are too animalistic in nature for comfort…and yet Blitzø feels in control of his thoughts and actions. He feels strangely calm, despite the sudden revelation.
Like this is where he’s meant to be.
“So, uh…” Quick, Blitzø, ignore your stupid feelings and focus! “How far along are you? Shit no, I mean first, uh, what are you planning to do? With the…baby…egg? Thing.”
Blitzø feels extremely stupid right now.
“According to my physician, I am a little over a month in, which…coincides with our last rendezvous,” Stolas explains with a sheepish expression, feeling responsible for this little situation of theirs. “Were this a normal Goetic pregnancy, symptoms would have shown up much earlier, but…”
“Yeaaaaah, part-imp…gotcha.”
And a tiny part concubus as well, thanks to Blitzø’s mixed ancestry on his mother’s side. This brat is going to be even more of a genetic mess than Blitzø himself is, it seems.
“Yes. Considering when my symptoms started showing, I may have to carry the egg for the length of an imp’s gestation period, rather than a Goetia’s usual three months…” Stolas pauses and blinks. “Well, it may not even be an egg, now that I think about it. This situation is quite unique.”
While Stolas muses over his newfound revelation regarding hybrid gestation, Blitzø is trying as hard as he can not to go feral at the implications behind his careless words.
Stolas is speaking of carrying this…their child to term, isn’t even considering not doing so. He’s planning on keeping it, and this does something insane to Blitzø’s instincts, sends them in complete overdrive in a way that’s completely unprecedented. It feels like his entire body is being filled with manic energy, and isn’t that a fucking doozy? Usually, when he goes feral, it’s because of stress and trauma, because of typically negative feelings. Sure, fluffy feelings can force a purr or certain affectionate tail movements out of him, mostly in Loonie’s presence, but this is on a whole nother level. Blitzø’s tail tip is vibrating with giddiness, and it’s taking him all of his self-control to stay in control of his actions when he was so calm moments before.
(Here you go again, hoping for things you can’t have. Aren’t you forgetting something? You always take and take and take, without consideration for others.)
Right. A cold weight drops in his stomach suddenly, and he shakes himself out of his stupor.
Stolas implied he would at least carry the child to term. He didn’t say anything about Blitzø’s own role in this, nor about what he would do with said child once they are born.
Blitzø should know by now not to make assumptions about Stolas’ intentions. In the end, Blitzø is a fuck buddy at best, and a glorified hooker at worst, nothing more. Assumptions are what complicated things between them, are what made him think there was more meaning behind Stolas’ actions beyond simply looking for an escape, a way to experiment with his own body after two decades of an unsatisfying marriage. And Blitzø has made his peace with that.
(He hasn’t.)
“So, uh, why are you telling me this, exactly?” He asks, tense.
There’s just no gentle way to bring up the topic, and Blitzø has never been known for his tact anyway. And until he has answers, he won’t be able to settle, won’t be able to get rid of all this anxious energy flowing through his body.
Stolas startles out of his thoughts. He’s been losing focus so easily lately, what he now knows to be gravidity keeping him in a perpetually exhausted state for the last month or so.
When his eyes focus back on Blitzø, worry settles in his gut at the imp’s clear signs of agitation. A carefully neutral expression, tense shoulders, a quickly flicking tail…
Oh, Blitzø, the poor darling must have gotten anxious thanks to Stolas’ pussyfooting around the point. This unfortunate habit of his certainly hasn’t gotten better with the fatigue weighing on him.
“O-oh, well,” Stolas quickly tries to reassure him, “you are this child’s other parent, and it would be wrong of me to keep this information from you, as well as impossible, since I would inevitably start to show—”
“And?” Blitzø interrupts his prattling, looking on edge. His tail whips from side to side.
“And…and I thought it important to let you know, since this is a pretty major and unprecedented event—”
“Okay, and? Get to the point, Stolas. What do you want me to do about this?” Blitzø snaps, making Stolas flinch. “Get out of your life? Raise the kid for you? Pay fucking child support? Whatever you want, I’ll do it, but I’m not a mind reader. So tell it to me straight: what do you want from me?”
As he says his piece, Blitzø starts pacing around the room, dorsal spines raised and tail swinging wildly. Stolas longs to take him into his arms, to quell his worries. But something tells him that trying to touch him right now could spell disaster.
All he has now are his words. And he’s never been that good at wielding them outside of his court duties.
He takes a deep breath, trying to push down his own anxieties as best as he can.
“Well, Blitzø,” he sees said imp raise his gaze at the sound of his actual name, “I know this is a lot, and I won’t hold it against you if you refuse… I mean, this is quite delicate, and you have many responsibilities, and I wouldn’t want to force you—”
“Stols.” A simple, flat stare. “The point.”
“Right, right. Apologies.” Stolas flusters. “What I mean to say is, if you’re amenable… I would like to…raise them…with you… But only if you’re agreeable to it! I understand that this is a lot, and it isn’t my intention to impose! I just thought it would be nice for this child to have both parents in their lives, even if this situation is admittedly out of the norm. And I’ve seen how good you are with your daughter, and…oh, I’m sorry, my words are all over the place today. What I mean is…” Stolas keeps fumbling with his speech, words once more failing him, as they often do when it matters most.
He wants Blitzø to be there. For the child’s sake, of course. Stolas had only one known parent, and he was such an absentee that Stolas had imprinted on his butler instead. Meanwhile, Stolas now realizes that he also failed at giving Octavia a normal family, no matter how much he’s tried. All he did was feed her lies and make her feel alienated…
(Home doesn’t feel like home anymore…you ruined it.)
He hasn’t met Loona often, but he can tell Blitzø is a fantastic father to her and that, despite her prickly personality, she clearly loves and respects him.
Even if they can’t be together officially just yet, even if this will surely feed Stella’s ire…he wants this child to have two parents who will both put them above themselves. He wants this child to be able to confide in two people, if one were to ever fail them.
(Like he’s failed Octavia, too many times. Who did she go to, then? Her mother barely acknowledges her presence. Her uncle is too self-centered to care about her beyond what she can bring to the family. She’s never fit in with her peers because of Stolas’ own bad reputation among the Goetia… Who else is there for her when he disappoints her? When he lets her down, no matter how hard he tries to be there for her?)
And, more selfishly…he wants to share this experience with Blitzø, specifically. Having another child is terrifying for many, many reasons, and yet…
Stolas is selfish. So, so selfish. He wants this, so much.
Well, there we go.
Blitzø’s tense body relaxes so suddenly, he almost falls to his knees right there, causing him to stumble back towards Stolas who stands quickly to steady him with gentle hands.
“Alright, sure, I can do that.” He says easily, and is surprised by how warm the words sound. Stolas blinks at the quick agreement.
“Are you quite sure? I mean, I understand this is a lot, you don’t have to…”
“What, you don’t want me to?” Blitzø asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Of course I do!” Stolas spontaneously admits and promptly turns bright red, but doesn’t take back his words. “I mean, we are…” Fuck buddies? Friends? Partners? “…that is, doing this with you would be wonderful! But I want you to do it because you want to, not because you feel responsible or, or—”
Blitzø puts his hands on his hips and stares straight at Stolas, glowering at him as if the guy wasn’t over twice his size and could kill him with a single blink.
“Alright Stolas, I’m in a good mood now so I’ll say it, but I’ll only say it once so open your weird bird ears. I’m a lot of things. There’s so much shit wrong with me that it’d be easier to list what’s right about me, and it’d all fit on a single post-it note with blank space to spare. But if there’s one thing I’m not,” he says, “it’s a deadbeat. If you’re keeping the kid, then I want to be in their life. No ifs, no buts, I’m in. Too late to get rid of me now. I’m doing this, and if you don’t want me to, you’re gonna have to whip out a restraining order. And guns. Lots of those. I’m a tough, stubborn bitch.”
He won’t be like his piece of shit father who treated his children like investments, like opportunities to make money he’ll sink into alcohol and gambling while their mother got increasingly ill from lack of medical care.
Fuck, even if Stolas wanted him to stay away, he’d probably still keep an eye on the kid from afar and actively ignore any actual restraining orders he may get as a result.
He wants to be in this kid’s life so bad.
(He wants to be in Stolas’ life so bad.)
And he may never be able to have anything more than co-parenting with Stolas, may not be able to give that child a ‘standard’ family with two parents in love and a single home full of warmth… But he never got that. Neither did Loona, who spent most of her life in the pound. Neither did Stolas, probably, because rich pricks don’t seem to know how to do anything normally. And considering how easily Stolas ‘fell’ into an affair, neither did Octavia.
He may not be able to give this kid a normal family, but he can try his best to give them a good one, at least.
(Even if he is anything but good.)
Little pinpricks of light appear in Stolas’ eyes, a sign Blitzø has started to recognize to mean the owl is feeling strong emotions. He blinks a few times, as if processing Blitzø’s words, and then all the anxiety in his body seems to melt as a radiant smile graces his face and small tears gather under both sets of eyes.
“Thank you, Blitzø,” he says, voice so soft, and kneels to take Blitzø in a warm embrace, nestling his fluffy head into Blitzø’s shoulder. “Thank you for staying. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
Blitzø returns the hug with one hand, the other wandering along Stolas’ front. Claws gently card through chest feathers, removing a couple of dead feathers here and there. Stolas’ plumage has clearly been neglected from the stress and bouts of sickness. He’s gonna have to fix that. Sit the bird down somewhere comfortable, run his claws and teeth and tongue through his plumage until he’s softer than a baby chicken…
“Of course,” he says, way too genuinely. Shit. Too eager. Let’s tone that down a bit before the bird finds out how much of a clingy bitch he can be. “I-I mean. What are friends for, right? You know, cause you called me your first friend and I know we’re also fucking but— well you know, I can co-parent with you. It’s not a big deal. Yup.”
Nailed it. Blitzø is a fucking genius at this. Give him a medal.
Stolas pauses for a moment, and suddenly Blitzø regrets leaning so eagerly into the hug because he can’t see what kind of expression the bird is making now.
“Oh, yes, of course.” And Blitzø isn’t sure, but Stolas sounds almost…disappointed. And yet he still rubs his face into Blitzø’s. The move is so much like imp scenting that Blitzø has to take a moment to ground himself, lest he go feral on the guy and try to mark him. Again. “I do appreciate it, you being here for me…us.”
Somehow, Blitzø feels like he’s said both the worst and yet best thing he could have. He doesn’t know how to read Stolas outside of sex, despite the bold claim of friendship he sorta expected Stolas to deny. He already couldn’t read him before the deal, though he didn’t realize it at the time.
Even so, Stolas is in his arms. So soft, so beautiful. So…unexpectedly fragile.
Depending on him.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that Stolas is carrying his child, maybe it’s their whole…everything, but this does something nice to his instincts. Stolas wants his help, his presence, his protection.
His mate needs him.
(And he wants to provide, so much.)
Blitzø doesn’t immediately notice he’s purring, but by the time he does, he’s too giddy to bother hiding it. He doesn’t bother stopping his tail from wrapping around Stolas’ stomach under his robe, either.
Stolas lets out a quiet, almost uncertain chuckle.
“I’m not showing yet, darling.”
”… I knew that.”
He keeps his tail there anyway, feeling the warm feathers there rise and fall with his bird’s breathing.
He doesn’t know how long they stay like this, basking in each other’s presences, and he doesn’t care. If he could, he would spend all of eternity just like this.
A deep sigh escapes Stolas as he lifts his head, and Blitzø looks up. Honestly, it really says something about how fucking tall Stolas is that even when kneeling, he is still almost a head taller than Blitzø, who by no means is a small imp.
(It’s kinda hot, knowing he can manhandle this skyscraper of a demon on the regular.)
Blitzø’s purrs die out as he sees Stolas’ dimmed expression. His smile is still there, but it has now become this small, wry thing.
“I…have something else to admit, Blitzø, and I will understand if it makes you change your mind about this situation. Or even about our…friendship.”
Blitzø blinks.
“What, you got something bigger than a surprise egg-baby-thing?”
“Oh, quite bigger, I’m afraid.” A sad chuckle. Stolas retrieves his arms and brings them to his chest in a self-soothing gesture, effectively ending the hug, though he doesn’t dislodge Blitzø’s tail from its position around his thin waist. “Big enough that I wouldn’t blame you if you were to resent me for it, and go back on your words.”
“Fat chance, I’m an imp of my word. But alright,” Blitzø answers with a crooked smile, “lay it on me, you’re making me nervous.” Again.
“And I am terribly sorry for it.” Stolas clears his throat. “First, I would like to mention that it was an accident. Neither of us were in our right minds then, and I promise you, I would have never done that to you had I been in control of my actions.”
“O…kay?” Blitzø doesn’t know what to expect, frankly. What more could Stolas have in store for him? From the sound of it, Stolas did something back when they both went a little bonkers with their instincts, something he seems to feel deeply guilty about. But all Blitzø remembers from then is having mind-blowing eldritch sex (good!) and having his own pathetic moment of insecurity (bad! but not Stolas’ responsibility and he got really nice aftercare for it, so it’s all good).
“Blitzø, I…” Stolas steels himself, “back then I…lost control of my powers and accidentally…bound us together.”
“Which meaaaaaans…?”
“That is, um,” Stolas looks down, wringing his hands together, “like, a soul bond? Our existences are linked together at their cores on a metaphysical level, and removing that bond would be incredibly difficult and could potentially cause irreparable damage to us both.”
Blitzø blinks at him. Once, twice. “So, like the soulmate shit in some of your sappy romance novels?”
“How did you know—” Stolas exclaims, cheeks flushed, and coughs to hide his outburst. “Um, that is. I guess it is somewhat comparable, though the actual phenomenon is more complex. But I suppose it is a similar enough concept when reduced to its very basics.”
Blitzø hums. That could explain some stuff, he supposes. Like his sudden obsession with Stolas and his health. He’d thought it was a leftover mating instinct from the whole feral sex business but—
Oh, who is he kidding? Blitzø is self-aware enough to know he’s been down bad for a long time. He’s been trying his best not to let it show, lest Stolas retreat even further away from him than he already has, but there’s just no denying what’s there anymore, not after that bad trip. So they’ve got some mystical soul link now? Big deal, he didn’t need that to be a clingy bitch before. If anything, this is the perfect excuse to stop pretending he isn’t.
(If there’s one thing all his exes have in common, other than hating his guts, it’s that they all initially thought his clinginess was cute. Then, it got old, and they found it annoying and overbearing instead. Even Ver. To this day, he still doesn’t know who she claimed she loved. Certainly, it wasn’t him. Not his true clingy and traumatized self, anyway. He hopes not, for both their sakes.)
But Stolas clearly regrets this. And why wouldn’t he? From his perspective, he lost control and accidentally tied himself to some asshole he’s been sleeping with on the regular, and got pregnant—gravid, whatever, as a result. It’s a lot, and he clearly didn’t want any of it to happen.
And, yeah, it stings that Stolas wouldn’t have wanted this for them under normal circumstances, that it only happened because he went feral and lost control. It stings like a fucking bitch, even after all this time, after months of ‘transactional fucking’ and trying and failing not to catch feelings.
But right now, Stolas is distressed and Blitzø may be selfish, but he isn’t that selfish. He won’t take advantage of what was a genuine accident to force his stupid feelings on the bird. Right now, Stolas doesn’t need some grand romantic gesture he may misinterpret as a result of that new magical bond they have. What he needs is a friend.
Blitzø is about as good at being a friend as he is at being a boyfriend, which is not at all. But he can try being a friend.
‘Trying is the first step’ or whatever, right?
“Alright then” is the answer he settles with.
“Alright…?”
“Yeah, so you did some soul magic fuckery when you weren’t all there. It was an accident, I get that. I’m not that petty.” He shrugs, though the tip of his tail betrays his anxiety by flicking against Stolas’ feathers. “Anything I gotta look out for? Symptoms or whatever? How’s this work?”
Stolas can’t believe this.
He expected anger, he expected upset.
He didn’t expect this level of nonchalance from Blitzø of all people. Does he not understand the implications of a soul bond?
“This isn’t just ‘some soul magic fuckery’, Blitzø!” He exclaims, startling the imp in front of him. “It’s a soul bond! Our life essence will be shared, that means if either of us is hurt, the other will be also. If one of us dies, so will the other. We will need to be in each other’s vicinity on a regular basis or we will lose our minds and worse…there are no records of soul bonds between Goetia and non-Goetia hellborns.” His voice quivers, then. “My magic is destructive, Blitzø. I don’t know what it might do to you now that it has direct access to your soul. You could die, for all I know.”
By the end of his speech, tears are once more streaming down Stolas’ cheeks and, unlike before, they aren’t tears of relief, but of pure horror.
There is a moment of dead silence, interrupted only by Stolas’ own sobs, before the words finally seem to sink in for Blitzø.
“Oh.”
Oh, indeed. Stolas can’t help but agree with the simple, yet so meaningful statement.
“Fuck,” Blitzø continues, a slightly manic laugh escaping his lips, “alright, okay. You did say it was way bigger than a surprise baby. I didn’t know it’d be that big. Okay.”
Honestly, when Blitzø heard ‘soul bond’, he expected something out of Stolas’ unrealistic romance novels with weird soulmate shit, the ones he’s always quick to hide under the pillows when Blitzø catches him reading them. A bit ridiculous, a bit sappy, but he can deal with that. He can play along. He can perform.
But this is different.
Blitzø may have trouble literally reading, but he’s pretty good at reading between the lines. The source of Stolas’ distress isn’t just the unintended bonding.
It’s the unpredictability.
There’s likely a very good reason Goetia don’t do that soul bond shit with any other hellborn. Yeah, sure, it could just be another of their classist and borderline-incestuous “gotta keep it in the family because stupid noble bird reasons blah blah” things.
Or it could be that no other hellborn can survive that kinda bond.
It’s a magic thing. Goetia have a shit ton of it.
Sinners have a good amount of it.
Concubi have some of it.
Hellhounds have a little of it.
Imps have exactly none of it.
Fuck. Yeah, this certainly puts Stolas’ distress into perspective suddenly. He thought the bird was just being dramatic, as he tends to be, dialed up to eleven because of bird egg pregnancy hormones or whatever.
He didn’t expect this.
Yeah, he is shocked, alright. And a little bit terrified, too. Obviously.
And yet…
This is all just a theory, in the end. For all they know, the only reason there are no records of Goetia-Hellborn bonds could be because they were hidden like all the bastard children those birds have probably made with all sorts of non-birds. Just like the pregnancy, it’s unheard of, and it’s terrifying to think about everything that could go wrong because of how different they are, both physically and in terms of status.
And yet, despite everything, Blitzø feels right. Like this is what they should have done a long time ago.
Like they are right where they need to be.
“Hey, Stolas, buddy, look at me.” He gently takes a distraught Stolas’ face in his hands, brushing away the continuously flowing tears with his thumbs.
“Blitzø…” Stolas’ voice is shaky, broken.
He was so happy before, when Blitzø said he’d help him raise the little squirt they accidentally made together. He wants to see that smile again.
Blitzø knows he’ll hate himself for it later, for letting himself be so open with someone who can and might use it against him (like so many have before him). He’ll definitely hate himself for it when this will eventually all fall apart and go up in flames.
(Hopefully not literally, but it’s still a possibility. Blitzø’s luck is shit like that.)
But at this very moment, he can’t bring himself to care.
“I know this is scary, all of it,” he gestures vaguely to them both, “but hey, ‘scary’ never stopped me before. Didn’t stop me from robbing you twice—sorry about that by the way, didn’t stop me from continuing to fuck your brains out even though your bitch-wife could have me killed for it anytime.”
“She wouldn’t,” Stolas disagrees with an odd confidence in his words, “it would be too overt.”
Blitzø quirks an eyebrow at that and decides they’ll have to unpack that later.
“My point,” Blitzø continues as if the bird hasn’t just made a highly concerning comment, “is that I’m gonna take responsibility regardless of how scary this shit is. And hey,” he smiles up at Stolas, “you’re the smartest demon I know. If anyone can find out if this whole soul thing is gonna kill us, it’s you, right?”
“This isn’t as comforting as you think it sounds, Blitzy,” Stolas says, and yet his beak quirks into a shaky smile regardless.
“Eh, everyone’s a fucking critic these days.”
Stolas giggles, a cute bird-like titter, and Blitzø is reminded of how down bad he is for that princely feather duster.
Fuck, he’s in trouble. Stolas is so fucking gorgeous.
And he’s still wearing that robe that covers absolutely nothing and Blitzø has had such an emotionally exhausting day, he shouldn’t be blamed for wanting to de-stress a bit. And Stolas too deserves some R&R, doesn’t he? After all, he is stressed and pregnant…gravid…eggnant. And sex is an excellent stress-reliever, isn’t it?
He gently wipes the tears that have accumulated on Stolas’ fluffy cheeks. Stolas just lets him, staring patiently. Submissively. Blitzø brings their faces together slowly, with intent.
“Blitzø…” Stolas’ voice is quiet. “Should we?” He questions, but doesn’t fight Blitzø’s gentle grip, doesn’t even try to put some distance between them. If anything, he’s getting closer, already tilting his head. Obedient.
Eager.
This is easier, Blitzø thinks. He can read Stolas like this, can read the pure desire radiating off of him. Can feel his feathers fluff up in excitement and taste the scent of his arousal in the air.
“Shouldn’t we?” Blitzø counters, and Stolas has no rebuttal for that. Their lips meet, surprisingly softly at first, though it doesn’t take long before the kiss becomes heated, tongues tangling together.
They’ve deserved a little break, haven’t they?
The bird certainly seems to think so as well, since he easily lets himself be guided into his bed and kissed into oblivion, after quickly teleporting the papers onto his desk.
They can figure out the rest later. The pregnancy… thing, the soul bond that may or may not kill Blitzø or even the both of them, and whatever this will mean for their…relationship, whatever it is, down the line.
But for now, they can relax and simply enjoy each other. They probably shouldn’t, to be honest, there’s still so much they need to talk about, to figure out. Like the logistics of this whole co-parenting thing, for one, provided the soul bond lets them live that long. And everything that comes before that, the medical stuff, who they can and cannot tell about the kid and the bond, their respective daughters, Stolas’ bitchy wife… Really, there is so much.
But, regardless of how bad of a decision this is, they need this. The intimacy, the connection, the sensation of feathers against scales, the feeling of being one, just for a single night.
So for now, it will simply be them. No toys, no scenes, just them.
Just them, Stolas and Blitzø.
***
[??? status : ???]
Author's note: In which stolitz communicate strangely well and also as badly as expected. Also my Blitzø is a huge simp. I'd say I'm sorry but that would be lying.