5 Works by blitzohope
Listing Works
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Summary
“You truly need help. I’m getting help. Why aren’t you?”
“Why the fuck would I need help?! I’m doing fantastic, thank you very much!” Blitzø shrieked, crossing his arms.
“Because you’re incapable of healing.” Stolas’ voice broke, and he turned back toward the stairs, heading for the door.
“Ooooh fuck you! I can heal! Just watch me, bitch!” Blitzø screamed after him, right as the door slammed in his face.
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There are so many things Blitzø fucking hates about Stolas—and what better place to rant about every single one of them than in therapy?
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“This is absurd. Surely there’s someone more qualified to tutor this imp,” Stolas continued.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Blitzø said in a mocking falsetto, “is my little imp ass too uncultured for your royal tutoring standards?”
“I just meant I’m not trained for remedial cases.”
Blitzø slammed his hand on the desk. “Say that again, you fucking pencil neck–”
“Enough.” Principal Morningstar stood up. “I don’t care if you two can’t stand each other. Blitzø needs help. Stolas, your father agreed to this arrangement. Consider it extra credit. And Blitzø, if you walk out of here without agreeing, you’re off the team.”
Stolas shot Blitzø a disdainful glance, his arms crossed tightly. Blitzø, meanwhile, looked like he was trying to melt a hole through the floor with his glare.
“Fine,” they said in unison, then promptly scowled at each other.
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Tutoring the school’s star football player should’ve been simple... except falling in love with him wasn’t part of the lesson plan.
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This fucking bird had him under a spell. No other explanation for it. Why else was it so fucking hard to walk away?
Wait.
Right.
Blitzø had wanted to leave.
He had to leave. And here Stolas was, reeling him back in with kisses and back rubs and nice words and all that sickeningly sweet shit. What the fuck were they even doing? Acting like some lovesick couple after a good fuck.
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Somehow, somewhere between the Full Moons, Blitzø started falling for Stolas.
Fic inspired by So American (Olivia Rodrigo)
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As if on cue, the curtain slid aside, revealing Stolas in the skin-tight workout outfit. The cropped top clung to his fluffy chest like a second skin, the shorts hugged his long legs and the earrings looked totally out of place with the rest of the outfit.
He looked like some wannabe influencer who had just walked off the set of a shitty fitness ad made by the Vees.
He looked… so fucking sexy .
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Stolas desperately needs new clothes. Blitzø helps, in more ways than one.
Takes place during Sinsmas.
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“Hellborns are organic. We are meant to die. It's natural. Beautiful, even. Everything breaks down, rises back up, and breaks down again. Every living thing grows out of every dying thing. We leave more life behind us to take our place." Stolas’ voice was soft, an attempt to soothe, to offer some comfort in the face of the inevitable.
But Blitzø remained unimpressed, his expression unchanging. "There’s not really a ‘we’ in this, is there?"
Stolas tilted his head, confusion furrowing his brow. "Hm?"
"You aren’t meant to die. I am, but you’re not.” Blitzø muttered, reminding Stolas of their fate. “So what happens when I’m not around anymore? When I kick the bucket and you’re left here, still doing your thing and going about your immortal life?"
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Hell grants demons five lives, their memories wiped clean with each rebirth. For Blitzø, every life is different—but one constant ties them all together: Stolas.
A Stolitz Reincarnation Story