If You Will Have Me. Blitz Didn't Know What That Meant, Didn't Understand What Exactly Stolas Wanted

If you will have me. Blitz didn't know what that meant, didn't understand what exactly Stolas wanted from him, and the impulse to assume something, to panic and just run with something, was strong. He quashed it, refusing--consciously refusing--to fall back into the old habits, to keep making the old mistakes, and forced himself to keep listening. When Stolas had hugged himself, it left Blitz's heart aching, because he could imagine, he could fucking imagine, how many times Stolas must have done that--how many times Stolas must have been the only one to hug him, the only pair of arms that wanted to hold him, always left to comfort himself alone.

Blitz shoved his hands into his pockets--then thought better of it and stepped over to wrap his arms around Stolas. Screw the height difference, he hugged what he could get, and he held on. Stolas needed that. He needed to be loved. He needed to be cared for. And Blitz needed to care. He couldn't pretend not to anymore, he couldn't pretend--fuck. He just couldn't pretend.

"I want whatever you'll give me, Stols. If that's... if you just want us to be friends, I'll take it. But what I really want is you. I want to be yours. Your stupid, lovesick, idiotic, unculture imp. And I want you to be mine. I want to--to find ways to convince you, somefuckinghow, that you are mine. That I want you. That I'm not gonna, not gonna just let go?" He tightened his arms. "Until you tell me to. I want to be together. Not just for fancy fucking, either. I mean together, together. Romantically. And I don't--fuck. I don't know how. But I want to learn. With you." He closed his eyes and rubbed his face against Stolas, having heard his own damn voice break. Fuck, Blitz, keep your shit together. Blitz hugged tighter, still.

"I don't wanna lose you. And I know I already did. But I just. I don't wanna lie anymore, either. I wanna tell you everything. And never be the reason you're unhappy anymore.

"I wanna be the partner who holds your hand proudly in public, and never cuts you down, never leaves you feeling unseen in your own life, or just... fuck. Fuck. I wanna be together--and I want to be good for you. Fuck, I want to be good for you." He didn't know if he ever could be, but Blitz would give his entire being to just trying, if Stolas wanted that.

A selfish wave of relief flooded him, and some of the tension leaved Stolas' frame. It wasn't fair to have wanted Blitz to himself during their separation, or maybe at all, and yet, he did. Still does, but that was a conversation for another time if they ever got it.

Stolas listens intently, giving Blitz a reprieve from the constant weight of his gaze by watching the path ahead. Though he stole glances any chance he could, unwilling to blink too often or let the imp out of his sight for a prolonged time. Everything between them felt suspended on a wire fit to snap at any moment. And if it didn't, they each held a pair of scissors, ready to cut it and each other loose.

It took so much willpower not to speak and interject, to correct Blitz or overlap his apologies with his own. Messy didn't begin to cover what any of this — of what they were.

He could fill the gaps between the stars and planets with everything he wanted to say. But would it be too much? Would he be too much? His hands link together, fingers grasping at each other with nervous excitement and uncertainty. At long last, the prince moves to step into Blitz's path, leaning down with a small smile. So much pain. There was an immeasurable amount of suppressed emotions and experiences between them both that could fill the world's oceans, he had no doubt.

❝ Blitzy — ❞ Stolas gives pause and shakes his head. One hand moves to rest on the imp's shoulder, the other to lift his chin to meet the owl's gaze. ❝ You think this is your fault, but it isn't. Not all of it. Please. . . . please do not bear the weight of it all without me. I was — I did some unfavorable things and. . . ❞ He trails off, beak clicking softly as he struggles to find the rest of his words. The problem wasn't that they weren't there; it was the struggle of unwinding them, untangling every thought and feeling from each other to form something coherent.

❝ You keep apologizing, but I could have stepped up too. I should have, sooner than I did, honestly. I hurt you too, and really I — it wasn't right of me, to bring up my feelings the way I did. Not so suddenly. Not like that. And I refused to give you a chance to properly take in what I was saying and suggesting. If I had just given you a chance to speak. . . ❞ It was his turn to withdraw, hands moving to his own arms, awkwardly hugging himself before falling to the prince's sides. He felt at odds with his existence, with the physical presence he held. It felt too small, and too much all at once.

❝ I care you for very much, Blitz. I just. . . want you to be aware of that. And to understand that I hold fault in what happened between us too. We. . . we hurt each other, unfortunately. But I — ❞ He sucks in a breath, head tipping to the sky instead, eyes closing. But when he speaks again, his gaze is back on Blitz.

❝ I still want to be a part of your life, and for you to be in mine, if you will have me. . . ❞

"Keep yer head down, Majesty," Striker growled, holding the injured man as close as he could, hurrying to get to Bombproof. A brawl like this might keep the town fighting for days, and normally Striker wouldn't mind sticking around for at least a few hours of the action, but this--this was Lucifer, wasn't it? Striker had never really spent much time looking at images of the King, but everyone knew Lucifer had an angelic side and was some sort of dainty little cricket of a man, lovely as a glass ornament. He just had never expected to see him here--and certainly never expected to see him hurt.

And shit, maybe this wasn't Lucifer, but either way? The moment Striker saw him go down it had felt like getting kicked hard in the stomach by his best friend. To catch a glimpse of a brilliant light, something pure and shining and somehow more valuable than most other things you'd seen in your life--Striker had a long, long damn resentment towards royals of any ilk, after what he'd lost, so he never would have expected to feel, to care. To need to go in and protect this man.

Shouts and gunshots rang out--they were definitely getting closer. Shit. He whistled loudly, hoping his idiot friend hadn't gone off somewhere... thank fuck, there he was. Sparks flying from every hoofbeat, Bombproof came racing around a building.

"This is my Hellste--" At an angry roar from the creature, Striker rolled his eyes. "Fine, have it your damn way. My honse," fuck it was embarrasing to call him a Honse, the fuck even was a honse, "Bombproof. Just hang on to me and keep your head tucked in close. You're gonna be alright, I've got you." He swung up into the saddle, holding his beautiful burden close, and then Bombproof was off like a damn shot, racing away into the desert.

"How bad you hurt?"

Carried to Safety ☠ - @doublejango (Striker)

The Wrath Ring is still a vast and unexplored landscape for the blue seraph, the heat worse there than even the Pride Ring. Having chosen to fledge the safety of Lucifer’s palace and the hotel to further expand his Hell experience, Lucid teleported down to the desert of Wrath. Spotting a quaint little town still stuck in the old western ways, the angel took on the form of a fellow imp to blend in. Immediately this place is far more interesting and personable than Pentagram City, to which Lucid goes to take full advantage of.

Greeting the resident imps and asking them dozens of questions. The looks they gave clearly identified this bubbly critter to be a “city slicker”, but thankfully for Lucid several of them took him up on his inquiries. It was in the midsts of asking two of them about the towns establishment and history when gunfire and the sound of hooves galloping against the hard, bone dry earth disrupted them. A group of outlaws arriving in town to stake their claims.

Unbeknownst to Lucid, the townsfolk were not going to lie down belly up. Every single one of them owned at least one fire arm or a knife, even the imp children. Within seconds the whole town and gang were at each other’s throats and firing bullets every which way. The imp disguised angel made the attempt to seek shelter and hide, hunkering down behind the side of a building. His shelter did not last long as one ruffian was sent flying into the side of the towns water tower. The old wooden stilts and rusted metal groaned, splintering as it collapsed. Like a domino effect it crashed onto of a building which erupted and smashed into the building beside it. Next thing Lucid knew a torrent of water rushed down the center of town before the building he hid beside collapsed atop him.

Knocked unconscious, Lucid reverts back to his angelic form and laid sprawled where he is felled. The seraph may never know if any of the towns folk saw his true form, but someone certainly did. And now bleary eyes fight to open, Lucid’s head aching from the wallop. Do angels get concussions? His halo sounds like it is ringing 5 times louder than usual. Finally getting himself to look, the angel is stunned to see he is in the arms of an imp adorning a cowboy hat, bandana and whole western git up.

“Ow…wha happened? Who ‘re you?”

for @keenie-bopper continued from here

Listening to her, it struck Blitz just how resilient this little cherub was. She was here, talking to him, had taken the time to be kind to him, to come and ask him something when she didn't need to. She had lost her home, been kicked out of fucking Heaven, and one could argue that he absolutely had some responsibility for that--yet here she was. Talking to him. Being polite. Being kind. The imp's expression softened, and his eyes took on a genuinely friendly light.

"Keenie, if you don't have anywhere to go for Helloween... You wanna come with me? I mean, definitely go tag along with your friends," he said, using her phrasing, "if that's what you wanna do. But if you end up wanting more, and the idea doesn't freak you out, come with me on the club crawl. It's--basically going to be a lot of filth, but nobody will touch you without permission. And if they try, I'll cut their fucking hands off. There'll be a lot of dancing though, plenty of music, weird mixed drinks, lots of costumes... proobably most of them pretty inappropriate," he admitted, picturing his own outfit. "But it's usually a blast and a half.

"And even if you don't want to come, hey. I appreciate that you came to ask about it. How um--how are you doing these days? You good? I should have... fuck, I should have checked in on you guys, ever. You have a place to stay, right? You're safe?"

(Better than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in bed with Stols, huh? lol :)

"Hey, nothin' is better than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in bed with my bird. But like... fuck. I mean, Peter's kind of-- that was sort of-- he's--

"If anyone ever fucks with him, or tries to hurt him, I will end them. That angel is mine, and I don't care if I have to take out all of Heaven to protect him," he growled, lowering his head. "He's worth protecting."

"Yeah, I mean. Why not? I've got the crystal now, and you--you've been kinda stuck for a long time, right? And shit's been--I mean. Shitty. With Valentino. I thought it might be nice for you to just feel alive again. Feel the real sunlight. And remember that you're not just someone who died. You came from all of this, you know? This world, created for you people. That body was made for you. You're beautiful in Hell. You know that. I know you know it. And I guess, maybe to me, it's hard not to think that maybe some of your beauty comes because you, you have like...

"I don't know. I'm not good at this words shit. But you have some sliver of Earth still in you. Some of that magic that this place has. I remember that you thought the aquarium was boring, so I could be way off, here," he admitted, "but to me, Earth seems magical. I wasn't born here. I wasn't born to live. I was born to serve. That's what all of my people are for. It's why we exist. We don't get an afterlife. We don't get to gamble everything on the hope of Heaven, only to end up powerful in Hell.

"You came from this. And you're stronger than it seems like you realize sometimes. And you... I don't know. I don't know what I'm even saying." Blitz sighed, but smiled. He glanced down, checking that his board tether was still firmly in place around his ankle, then slipped off of his board and just sank below the surface for a few minutes, needing a minute, needing to try and--try and what? Calm the fuck down? Center his thoughts? He didn't know, he didn't do this shit, he didn't overthink like this, he didn't take dead souls out for walks, or whatever the fuck he thought he was doing here.

He looked down into the darkness, into the depths of the ocean. The morning sun wasn't high enough to illuminate it, and so below him was nothing but black, an endless abyss--and he could feel someone's eyes watching, sense a familiar presence in those depths. Just the barest hint of it, but there all the same.

Blitz didn't know whether that was a good thing or not.

He surfaced, climbed back onto his board, and nodded towards shore. "I'm gonna go walk around in the town. Or at least sit on the sand. You wanna come?" He had the absurd notion to offer to give Angel head once they were on the shore, to let Angel feel that kind of worship in his human body--but they weren't there yet, were they? Would that be weird to offer? Still, Blitz couldn't help but glance down at Angel's stunning body before quickly looking away. He didn't have red skin to hide his blushes now.

After clearing his throat, he laid on his board and started paddling for shore, falling into a natural rhythm, working with the waves.

"Maui." He's repeating, because it still feels like an absolute fever dream. And maybe it is. Maybe he's going to wake up in his room in theresort and this would all be made up. It would be an interesting dream, to say the least, but it wasn't like his brain hadn't come up with some other obscure thoughts before, especially after being dead as long as he has. And having Blitz be in the dream wouldn't be unusual either. Though if it was a dream, they'd definitely be making out.

Admittedly, he hadn't heard the imp's complete ramble about Pearl Harbor. Even if he had, he didn't know if he would entirely care, as bad as that sounded. Shit happened on Earth. People died. World War II was right before his death, and he had seen more than enough death at his own hands. His eyes only glanced towards the other at the mention of this working, how he hadn't known if it would. "...yeh' didn't know if this was gonna work. Have yeh'...have yeh' never done it before?"

His voice cracked a bit at that, a bit of concern in his eyes. What if it had killed them? For good? No, it hadn't. And he couldn't think like that. He was shaking his head loose, looking back over at the other, before his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles. "In shock? Otherwise, great. Peachy." He laughed, showing he was feeling more normal, though blue eyes were still looking at his hands. The slightly tanned skin, compared to the bright white fur he had been so used to for decades now.

"It's just....been awhile. Since ah've been...yeh' know." He gestured to his human form, though at least much like when he was Angel Dust, he wasn't embarassed that he was wearing pretty minimal clothing. He had been a spider longer than he had been a human, so it was all just readjusting, and he's pushing his curls behind his ears - oh thank fuck, he had ears again - blushing a bit and looking over at the other. "Yeh'....yeh' wanted t' do this....for....me?"

This had been an act, but it suddenly wasn't anymore; contact with his lover's body, the way she touched him back, the way she licked his throat, that beautiful sensuality in her voice? Blitz had no immunity against any of those things--no immunity against Visage. He adored this woman, and his body had no defenses against her; whenever she wanted to play him like an instrument, she could. Always. He swallowed hard, shivering a little as she got to him, as the arousal hit harder than he had been prepared for.

"All Daddy wants is you, babygirl," he whispered, the base of his spines already thickening against her touch. Blitz usually hated when people took the liberty of touching him there, but not Vizzy. Not Vizzy. When she did it, he loved it. When she did it, he was hers. No, she could touch him anywhere, any way she wanted to, and it always felt safe, like home--

Except, right now? It felt like one more thing, one terrifying thing.

It felt like they were flirting with the idea of one last time. Blitz was good at recognizing that. He'd been the one instigating it all too often. He had been the one preparing to say goodbye so many times. He knew the signs. He knew the little ways it changed things. He knew too much about it--and he knew it was happening now. But that was the point of all of this, wasn't it? They were standing on the edge of an abyss, and if she jumped, thinking she could dive down into that darkness alone? Blitz was going with her.

Until then, he had to act, to play the part.

It helped that she all but lit his body on fire.

"Maybe we got each other figured out," he replied, voice lower and rougher for her, heated by her, darker for her.

Meeting her eyes boldly, he took both of her wrists and gripped them tight in one hand, holding them down between their bodies; the imp's hands and forearms had a vise-like strength, and so although he was always gentle with her--unless there were times she wanted to be bruised--she might as well be manacled right now.

"Tonight..."

Without so much as looking away from her eyes to even pretend at being civilized, without a hint of shame, Blitz slid a hand inside her clothing, between her legs--up against her warmth. Mindful of his claws--always, always so damn careful with them--he caressed the pads of his fingers against her, gentle and patient, familiar.

"Text me when you finish your work. Then get changed into something you don't mind me ruining. Don't worry about what you'll put on after, I'll have something for you." Attentive little circles, Satan what he wouldn't give to be doing this with his tongue right now instead. "I'll send you an address. You show up exactly where the text says, kneel, and wait. It won't take long. When I show up? You will be mine. You'll do whatever I ask. You won't have to think. You won't have to feel." Blitz kissed her throat, but then bit it, holding it between his sharp fangs--the pressure not quite enough to break the skin, but damn close. He only held on for a moment before he let go and kissed again, softer kisses, everywhere he knew a fang had threatened to pierce.

He loved this woman. Fuck, he loved this woman. He wanted to make sweet, passionate, goddamned vanilla love to her--but that wasn't what she needed. At all. And so until it was? Blitz was going to be her imp, to be whatever it took for her to not need to run.

"You will do whatever I ask you to do, because you know you need to be punished. You've been a brat, and Daddy can't let you get away with that. There will be pain--impact play, some of it will sting--but you won't be injured. You'll be safe. And afterwards? Babygirl, after, I will hold you down and fuck you from behind until you don't want to think anymore, until your legs are jelly, until there's nothing but a slick mess between your thighs, until you're shaking.

"No romance. No thinking. Nothing but fucking 'til we're both all better, even if it hurts.

"Say yes, Daddy. Then kiss me, shove me away, and I'll go--and I'll look forward to that text, babygirl."

Confused emotions bounced like ping-pong balls inside the Overlord's mind, flitting from confusion to anger, flashes of masochistic desire, heartfelt longing, then pivoting to guilt before the crazed cycle began anew. It felt like only Blitz could coax this level of insanity from the depths of her truest self, and that grim realization felt even more damning when she knew just how badly she wanted him to stay. Needed him to challenge her rejections, to pursue her regardless of how far she tried to run. But in that moment...? She was tired. Visage didn't have the strength left in her to run anymore tonight. And, if he was going to give her such an easy excuse to stay, would it really be so wrong...? Another night she would muster the courage to get away and end this before it went too far. For now, she could pretend everything was still uncomplicated and free. One last time. Something dark and familiar swept over those luminous silver eyes as she stared back at him, one of her hands sliding up under the back of his shirt in response to that slithering tail, to caress across scarred crimson skin until the tips of her claws teased at the base of his spines. "Damn..." the hellhound murmured, tone low and sultry, barely audible over the crowds and the pulsing beats. "...Got me figured out, mm...? Whatever Daddy wants, he'll get." The she-wolf's head dipped low as the flat of her tongue dragged hard up the side of Blitz's neck, tracing the line of his pulse in one long lick. Surely there wasn't any harm in getting him even more riled up while he had to wait for her, right...? If this was going to be their final hurrah, she'd best make sure it was a damned good one.