#stoltiz fic

[pipsqueakparker]

hello it's me ◉⁠‿⁠◉

would you be able to write these prompts? any one is fine you don't have to do all three

13. frustrated kisses

30. desperate kisses

56. angry kisses

but I was just thinking for Stolitz that once they have time to talk BOI would Stolas get it from Blitz bc how dare he try to die on him???

hello its you!! these are brilliant, sorry it took so long and that it also maybe doesn't the prompt exactly but! here you are!!

(if you prefer to read on AO3)

“Thank you again, Blitzø,” Stolas began, and his voice had a lilt to it that worried Blitzø. They’re sitting on the couch, Stolas’ hella-novella on the television and too much space between them in Blitzø’s opinion. Stolas’ hands are folded in his lap and Blitzø wants to reach out and take one. Normally, he’d hesitate, but after everything they’ve been through… what’s the point? He lets himself do it, fitting his claws between Stoals’ talons and letting their interlocked hands rest in the space between them. It didn’t help the waver in Stolas’ voice as he continued, “I’m afraid I’m… overstaying my welcome, so perhaps –” 

Blitzø doesn’t hear the end of that sentence, he doesn’t even want to let Stolas finish it. He tightens his grip on Stolas’ hand, turning his body to face the other to say, “What the fuck are you talking about?” It comes out too harshly, but he doesn’t care. He means it a little harshly because Stolas has never sounded dumber in his life. 

“I – well, I just mean – I don’t wish to impose any –” 

“Who the fuck said you were imposing?” Blitzø asks, voice still sharp but also edged with genuine curiosity. “Have I said that? Or… acted like that? Did Loona say something – ?” 

“No! No – I… I’m sure you two would like your space back, though –” 

Blitzø has been incredibly patient; he has shown Stolas more grace and compassion than he even knew he had in him. When Stolas needed to cry, Blitzø held him. When Stolas couldn’t take care of simple self-care tasks, Blitzø helped him. He even managed to get his hands on Stolas’ meds, though the hardest part about that was getting the information out of the owl. Once Stolas had finally admitted to being on antidepressants, Blitzø had a  fresh bottle of pills that night. He has done everything he can to make Stolas’ life suck just a little less. 

“Satan’s fucking cunt, Stols.” Blitzø pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand, pointedly keeping a tight grip on Stolas with the other. “You’re usually so fucking smart, how are you this fucking stupid?” 

“Pardon?” Stolas flinches at that, and would pull his hand away if Blitzø didn’t have it in a death grip, though the motion does catch Blitzø’s attention.  

“Sorry, that was – I didn’t mean it like –” Blitzø takes a breath, shifting on the couch until he’s fully facing Stolas and scooting close enough that his knees press into Stolas’ thigh and he’s holding their hands in his lap. “You don’t need to go anywhere, Stolas.” 

“That’s… very kind of you, Blitzø, but I assure you, you don’t owe me anything for…” 

“I know, I’m not saying this ‘cause I think I –” Blitzø has to keep stopping himself before he gets too frustrated, he is trying to be gentle. But Stolas is being dense as fuck, and it’s grating on his nerves because how the hell are they still having this conversation. How has Stolas not seen everything he’s been doing… 

Blitzø drops Stolas’ hand suddenly, reaching out to cup the owl’s cheeks and stare straight into those ruby red eyes, the white pupils that bore straight through him. Every word he tries to say keeps dying before it hits his tongue, getting lost between his brain and vocal cords, because none of them feel right. They don’t feel like enough, and how could they be? If Stolas still can’t get it, if he can still sit there and question anything – well, Blitzø has always been better with actions than words. 

Stolas lets out a small, surprised trill when their mouths connect, eyes sliding shut out of habit. One of Blitzø’s hands moves to the back of Stolas’ neck, cradling his head gently and in direct conflict with the hard press of his lips. There’s half a second when Blitzø seems to think twice, pulling back to look at Stolas, trying to read if this is okay. He finds an answer in Stolas’ lidded eyes and the way his mouth hangs open, surprised. Stolas twitches his head in the semblance of a nod. 

A moan slips from Stolas’ throat when Blitzø licks into his mouth, claws curling into the feathers at the back of his head and pulling him closer. It’s only now hitting Stolas just how long it’s been since they’d kissed, and the longer Blitzø’s lips slide aggressively against his the more he wonders how they had possibly gone this long. 

Blitzø kisses him with everything he has, trying to convey what he can’t figure out how to say with his words. With just a hint of encouragement, he’s basically climbing Stolas’ body, clambering into his lap until he can be as close as physically possible. If nothing else he’s done has gotten across just how much he wants Stolas around, or how the last thing he wants is for Stolas to leave, this is his last ditch attempt to show this bird how fucking much he cares. How much he fucking – 

“ – Love you.” 

Stolas jerks back, red eyes wide and pupils boring right into Blitzø’s soul once again. This time, though, it almost looks like he sees something, sees what Blitzø has been trying to tell him in everything he’s done since the trial. Stolas’ voice is quiet, barely a breath, when he says, “What?” 

“I love you,” Blitzø repeats, punctuating it with another bruising kiss. “You fucking birdbrain. I love you.” He presses each word into Stolas’ beak, his jaw, every inch of his face that he can reach. He kisses the tears that trail down Stolas’ cheeks, repeating those words and letting them settle into the soft, white feathers around his eyes. 

Stolas finds Blitzø’s mouth again and they melt into each other, Stolas’ talons pressing into the imp’s back, holding him close. The fire simmers out as Blitzø’s confession sinks in for both of them, as Stolas sinks further into the cushions and Blitzø follows him down. They move languidly against each other, everything slowing down so they can savor each touch and swipe of tongue and claws sinking into flesh. It had been a long few months and they were re-discovering each other in a new context, one that Stolas was afraid he’d never experience. 

At some point Blitzø curls into Stolas’ chest, presses his face into the plush feathers there and wraps his arms tightly around the owl’s middle. This isn’t unfamiliar territory since the trial, but Stolas had never let himself read into the closeness before now. He had written off every touch or every kiss brushed across the top of his head as Blitzø merely feeling sorry for him, or feeling indebted in an entirely new way. He was afraid he had made their situation even worse than it began, because he wasn’t supposed to be here after what he’d done. It was supposed to set Blitzø free entirely, but instead he tied their threads even closer than they had been before. 

“If I didn’t get the point across yet,” Blitzø murmurs, voice muffled by Stolas’ feathers because he refuses to move his head. “You don’t need to go anywhere. I don’t want you to go anywhere.” 

Stolas smiles, tilts his head down to drop a kiss to one of Blitzø’s horns. He can feel the other demon’s tail curling around his thigh, squeezing just a bit. “Understood, darling.” He scratches Blitzø’s back, between the spikes along his spine, earning a soft purr that rumbles out from the imp’s chest. “If that is the case, though, we may need to find a better sleeping solution than this couch.”

(on AO3)

(kiss prompts here)