Summary: Sequel to Conversations (And Sneezes). Ligeia has caught Angel's cold. Despite his aversion to physical touch, Alastor's feelings for her lead him to be the one to take care of her.
Adapting
Three days later, Angel Dust was feeling considerably better.
His voice still sounded a little rough, and every now and then he would have to sniffle against lingering congestion, but he was back on his feet.
Unfortunately, his recovery had come with a cost.
A cost currently curled beneath three blankets in a darkened hotel room.
Ligeia was tucked into her bed like a disgruntled burrito. Her dark-purple hair spilled across the pillows in every direction.
Her nose was bright red.
A box of tissues sat nearby, already half-empty, and every few minutes another sneeze would ambush her.
"Hih...hiihh..."
Her nose wrinkled.
"Hh'esshiieeww!"
The sneeze snapped her forward. A second followed immediately, much more forceful than the first.
"Hh'KTSSHH!"
She groaned and collapsed back into the pillows.
"I hate this."
"Naturally," a smooth voice came from beside the bed.
Alastor sat in a chair he'd pulled close earlier that morning. A steaming cup of tea rested on a small tray nearby.
Normally, the Radio Demon would have found an excuse to be anywhere else.
Sickness was unpleasant, messy, undignified, and physical affection was not exactly his preferred method of interaction.
Yet somehow he'd spent most of the day in her room.
Ligeia smiled weakly.
"You're still here."
Alastor raised an eyebrow.
"Where else would I be?"
She gave him a look. They both knew exactly what she meant.
A faint hint of pink appeared in her cheeks.
Not from the fever.
Alastor noticed. His smile softened.
A rare thing.
"You're ill, my dear."
"I noticed."
"Then someone ought to keep an eye on you."
Another sniffle escaped her.
"I thought you hated nursing people."
"I do."
"Thought you hated being touched."
"I generally do."
She smiled.
"But?"
Alastor sighed dramatically.
"But you, my dear, are the exception to that rule."
The smile that followed was impossibly fond.
Ligeia's heart fluttered.
Even now, while she was feeling terrible.
Before she could answer, another tickle blossomed deep in her nose.
"Oh, no."
Alastor immediately picked up a tissue and handed it to her.
"Hihh...heehhh...Hh'ESCHOO!"
She cringed. Her sneezes were getting stronger.
"Well, now. Gesundheit, my dear."
"Hh'KTSSHH!"
"Goodness."
"Hh'ESCHHOO!"
The fit finally subsided. She blew her nose miserably.
Alastor handed her another tissue before she could ask.
The gesture was so automatic that both of them noticed. Ligeia stared. Alastor froze.
A moment passed, then he cleared his throat.
"Well."
"Well," she echoed.
"I appear to be adapting."
She laughed softly. The laugh turned into a cough.
Alastor was immediately leaning forward.
"Easy there, my dear."
His hand came to rest against her shoulder.
The movement was hesitant.
Careful.
Like he still wasn't entirely accustomed to it.
Yet he didn't pull away.
Ligeia looked down at his hand, then back up at him.
"Thank you."
The words were quiet. Sincere.
Alastor's smile grew smaller, more genuine.
"You needn't thank me."
His fingers shifted slightly against her shoulder.
The simple contact seemed to cost him effort, because he wasn't used to letting people close.
Ligeia knew that.
Which made it mean even more to her that he was trying.
She reached up and gently placed her hand over his.
Alastor tensed instinctively, just for a second, then slowly relaxed.
His smile returned.
"See?" Ligeia said softly with a teasing smile.
"What?"
"You didn't vanish into smoke."
He chuckled.
"No, it would seem not."
A comfortable silence settled between them.
Outside the room, distant sounds echoed through the hotel.
Inside, everything felt warm.
Safe.
Ligeia's eyelids drooped. The fever was making her sleepy.
Alastor noticed immediately.
"You should rest."
"I've been resting all day."
"And yet you remain ill."
"Terrible tragedy."
"Indeed."
She yawned.
Alastor stood. For a moment she thought he was leaving.
Instead, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
Ligeia blinked.
Alastor paused, clearly reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this point.
Then he gently brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
The motion was awkward and unpracticed, but unmistakably tender.
"There."
Ligeia smiled.
"You're getting good at this."
"I sincerely hope not."
"You are."
"An alarming prospect."
She laughed again.
This time the laugh didn't become a cough.
Progress.
Alastor allowed himself a small look of satisfaction.
Ligeia shifted slightly closer without really thinking about it, seeking warmth.
Comfort.
Company.
For half a second, Alastor looked as though every instinct in his body was telling him to flee.
Then he looked at her tired red eyes.
He looked at the tissues, the blankets, he miserable expression on her face...and he stayed.
Ligeia rested her head lightly against his shoulder.
Alastor became very still.
Several seconds passed.
Then, slowly, carefully, he allowed himself to lean back against the headboard beside her.
His arm settled around her shoulders.
Awkward, but protective.
Gentle.
Ligeia smiled without opening her eyes.
"You know," she murmured sleepily. "For someone who hates physical affection..."
"Hush."
"...you're pretty good at it."
Alastor rolled his eyes, yet his arm tightened slightly around her.
A gesture so small most people would have missed it.
Ligeia didn't.
By the time another soft sneeze escaped her, she was already half asleep.
Alastor handed her one last tissue, then settled in beside her.
He listenined to her breathing gradually even out.
For once, he didn't seem to mind the quiet, or the closeness, or even the occasional sniffle from the sleeping woman tucked against his side.
Because somewhere along the way, caring for Ligeia had become less of an obligation, and much more of a privilege.
Tags/Warnings: male sneezes, sickfic, hurt/comfort, slight mess, noseblowing, platonic/sibling-like relationship, mentions of death, murder and drug use.
Summary: After another long night performing at Valentino's club, an exhausted Angel Dust comes home to the hotel with a bad cold. The hotel's newest resident, Ligeia, is there to take care of him. Caretaking turns into a long, emotional conversation about the old days.
Conversations (and Sneezes)
The front doors of the Hazbin Hotel swung open with a creak as Angel Dust stumbled inside.
The spider demon looked like he'd been dragged through every gutter in Pentagram City. His usual swagger was nowhere to be seen. Glitter clung to his fur from Valentino's drag show, his makeup was smudged around tired eyes, and his shoulders slumped beneath a heavy coat.
The lobby was unusually quiet.
No Charlie babbling about her newest redemption plan.
No Vaggie nodding along with her.
No Husk tending the bar.
No Niffty running around with cleaning supplies.
Just one person.
A woman sat curled up in an armchair beside the fireplace, reading a book.
Long dark-purple hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid silk. Crimson eyes lifted from the page.
Ligeia.
Angel's stomach tightened immediately.
"Great," he muttered hoarsely. Ligeia lowered her book.
"Anthony."
He paused, cringing slightly. Nobody called him that anymore.
Nobody except her.
He groaned.
"Yeah, don't start."
Before she could answer, his nose suddenly twitched.
"Hah..."
He pinched it.
"Hh'ktsh!"
The stifled sneeze bent him forward. It hurt. He lowered his hand with a wet sniffle and a groan.
Then another sneeze hit. He didn't bother stifling this one.
"Hh'ETSCHH!"
It was followed by three more.
"Hh'ktschh! KTSCHH! Hh'ESCHOO!"
The fit hit him hard enough that he nearly lost his footing.
Ligeia was on her feet immediately.
"Anthony—"
"I'm fine."
He wasn't.
He made it three more steps before collapsing face-first onto the nearest couch.
Ligeia stared as Angel buried his face in a cushion.
"Go away."
His voice was muffled in the couch cushions. Ligeia was silent. A moment passed, then the couch dipped beside him.
"I said go away, Amalia."
There it was. Her real name. He remembered.
"No," she replied. Angel let out a weak laugh, rolling onto his back so they could talk properly.
"Still stubborn."
"You always liked that about me."
That earned silence.
Ligeia watched him carefully.
The years hadn't changed him as much as he'd probably hoped.
He still folded in on himself whenever he was hurting.
Still hid behind sarcasm.
Still looked like a frightened kid whenever he thought nobody was watching.
Right now, his breathing sounded congested.
His nose was red and visibly running, and despite his attempts to act tough, he looked utterly exhausted.
"Long night?" she asked quietly. He laughed sarcastically and sat up.
"That's awful."
"Just another two hour show. Every day this week."
Another tickle crept into Angel's nose.
"It's Val," he said with a shrug. Ligeia frowned.
He sniffled hard, obviously hoping to hold it back, but failed.
"Hehh..."
His eyes squeezed shut.
"Hh'EHTSCHOO! Hh'KTSSHH! ETSCHH!"
The sneezes left him coughing.
Ligeia instinctively rubbed circles on his back.
Angel stiffened.
For a second she thought he'd pull away.
Instead he just sighed.
"...you always did that."
"Did what?"
"Rubbed my back like that."
She smiled faintly.
"Helpful."
"Nah," he said with another wet sniffle, but she could tell he wasn't being serious. "Annoying."
Ligeia's smile widened.
For a while neither spoke.
The crackling fire filled the silence.
Eventually Ligeia closed her book and set it aside.
"I didn't expect to see you here."
Angel stared at the floor.
"Didn't expect to see you anywhere."
The words came out harsher than intended.
Ligeia looked down.
"Fair."
Regret immediately flickered across Angel's face.
Neither of them had wanted this conversation; they'd both been avoiding it for weeks.
Ever since she'd arrived.
"You know," Ligeia said softly. "I wasn't sure you'd even remember me."
Angel laughed. It was a rough, tired sound.
"Yeah?"
"You got famous."
"Oh, please."
"You did."
"Try infamous."
"Still famous."
Another silence settled for a moment before Angel spoke again. His tone was gentle this time.
"Course I remembered you."
Ligeia looked up at him. His eyes remained fixed on the fireplace.
"I remembered every stupid thing."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth.
"Remember when your old man caught us stealing cigars?"
Ligeia groaned.
"He chased us for three blocks."
"He nearly shot me."
"He absolutely shot at you."
Angel barked a laugh that turned into a cough.
"Hell, we were idiots."
"We were kids."
The warmth faded from his expression.
"Yeah."
Kids.
Before the arguments. Before the hatred.
Before their fathers destroyed everything.
Ligeia's voice softened.
"I've missed you."
Angel's ears twitched and he glanced up at her, eyes wide like he wasn't sure he'd hesrd her right.
Ligeia continued before she could lose her nerve.
"I know our fathers hated each other."
She swallowed.
"But I never stopped loving you like a brother, Anthony."
Angel quickly looked away from her and stared at the fire.
For several seconds he said nothing.
Then his nose twitched again.
"Hehh...oh, c'mon, not now..."
Ligeia automatically reached into her pocket and handed him a handkerchief.
The gesture was so familiar it made them both freeze.
Angel looked down at it.
Crimson lace, neatly folded.
Just like the ones she'd always carried when they were alive.
His throat tightened, but before he could say or do anything his nose burned.
"Hh'ETSCHOO!"
He caught the sneeze in the handkerchief. It was followed by two more, rough, throat-scraping and wet.
"Hh'KTSCHH! Heh...ETSCHOO!"
When the fit finally subsided, he blew his nose hard, then just held the handkerchief loosely in one hand.
"I missed you too."
The admission barely rose above a whisper.
Ligeia blinked. Angel shrugged awkwardly.
"I hated all that crap."
His voice cracked.
"Our dads have a fight and suddenly we're not allowed to talk anymore."
Ligeia nodded. Tears glimmered faintly in her eyes.
"I used to sneak out hoping I'd see you."
Angel looked over at her.
"Ya did?"
She laughed weakly.
"Every week."
His eyes widened.
"I did the same thing."
That surprised both of them.
For a moment they simply stared. Then they both started laughing.
The ridiculousness of it.
Years of separation.
Years of anger.
And all along neither of them had wanted it.
Angel's laughter dissolved into another sneezing fit.
"Hh'EHTSCHOO! K'ETSCHH! ETSCHH!"
Angel groaned miserably.
"Aw, come on."
Ligeia couldn't help smiling.
"You really are sick."
"Shut up."
"Your nose is bright pink."
"Shut up."
"You sound terrible."
"Shut up."
She laughed. A genuine laugh.
The sound made something ache pleasantly in Angel's chest.
Maybe because it sounded exactly the same as it had decades ago.
Without thinking, Ligeia gently brushed a strand of hair from his face.
This time he didn't pull away.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't hide.
Instead, he leaned slightly into the touch.
Just slightly.
Tired enough to stop pretending.
"I'm glad you're here," she said quietly. Angel's expression softened.
"Yeah."
His eyelids drooped.
The warmth of the fire and the exhaustion from the show were finally catching up with him.
Ligeia shifted closer.
"Get some sleep."
"I got stuff to do."
"No, you don't."
"I got—"
He yawned.
Ligeia raised an eyebrow. Angel scowled, but then he surrendered.
"Fine."
A blanket from the back of the couch appeared around his shoulders.
Ligeia tucked it around him with gentle care.
The same way she had when they were children.
The same way she would have if they'd never been separated.
Angel looked up at her through half-lidded eyes.
"Hey, Ligeia?"
"Yeah?"
A small smile appeared on his face.
"Don't disappear again."
Her expression softened immediately.
"I won't."
For the first time since she'd arrived at the hotel, he believed her.
***
The lobby was dark when Angel next became aware of the world.
The fire had burned lower, filling the room with a soft orange glow.
For a few moments he wasn't entirely sure where he was.
His head felt stuffed with cotton. His throat hurt.
His nose was hopelessly congested, and he was warm.
Very warm.
Something soft rested beneath his cheek.
A hand moved gently through his hair; slow, steady, comforting.
Angel's eyes blinked open.
For a second, he panicked, but then he looked up.
Ligeia was still there.
She sat at the end of the couch, one arm draped along the backrest while her fingers combed through his hair.
His head was resting in her lap.
The realization made him freeze.
"Hey," Ligeia said softly as she smiled down at him.
Angel stared.
"You stayed."
The words came out rough from sleep.
"Of course I stayed."
"Why?"
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
A shadow crossed her expression.
"Because you're sick."
Angel frowned.
"Yeah, but..."
He trailed off, but Ligeia seemed to understand anyway. Her hand continued moving through his hair.
"Anthony."
He didn't even complain about the name this time.
"I wasn't going anywhere."
Something in his chest tightened painfully.
He swallowed, immediately regretting it as his sore throat protested.
Ligeia noticed.
"Still feeling awful?"
Angel groaned, nodding.
"Feel like I got hit by a train."
His nose twitched suddenly.
"Ah, f-fuhh...huuhh..."
He sat up slightly.
"Hh'EHTSCHOO!"
The sneeze echoed through the empty lobby. Another followed. Then a third.
"Hh'KTSCHH! Heh...haahh... ETSCHOO!"
Ligeia handed him the handkerchief she'd given him earlier.
He accepted it without argument.
Progress, she thought.
After blowing his nose miserably, he collapsed back against her, his head in her lap again.
Neither of them commented on it.
For a while they sat in comfortable silence.
The fire crackled.
Outside, distant sounds drifted through Pentagram City.
Eventually Angel spoke.
"Can I ask somethin'?"
"Anything."
His eyes remained fixed on the flames.
"How'd you...y'know. End up down here?"
Ligeia's fingers paused briefly.
Angel immediately regretted asking.
"You don't gotta answer."
"No, it's okay."
Her hand resumed stroking his hair.
Angel waited.
"I was thirty-two. I'd started seeing someone."
Angel smiled faintly.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
For a moment she looked almost embarrassed.
"I really liked him."
The smile disappeared.
"But there was something I didn't know."
Angel frowned.
"What?"
"He already had a girlfriend. And they had a kid."
The spider demon's expression darkened.
"Oh."
Ligeia nodded.
"He never told me."
"What a scumbag."
A tiny laugh escaped her.
"That's pretty much what I said."
She took a deep breath and her eyes lowered.
"She found out."
Angel felt a knot form in his stomach. The tone of her voice had changed. Her gaze drifted toward the fire.
"I tried explaining that I didn't know, but...but she wouldn't listen."
The silence stretched, and suddenly Angel didn't want to hear the rest, but he couldn't stop himself.
"What happened?"
Ligeia swallowed.
"She attacked me."
Angel went still.
Ligeia's voice sounded distant now, like she was remembering every detail.
"It started as an argument. Then she grabbed a knife."
Angel's stomach dropped.
"Ligeia..."
"I ran, but she caught me."
The fire crackled. Neither spoke for what felt like a long time, but finally, Ligeia forced out the words.
"She slashed my throat."
Angel stared at her.
The sentence hit him harder than he expected.
Harder than it should have.
Everyone here had died. Everyone had a story.
But suddenly he wasn't imagining some stranger.
He was imagining the girl he'd spent his childhood with.
The girl who used to sneak cigars with him.
The girl who'd climbed rooftops with him.
The girl who laughed exactly the same way she still did now.
She had died alone. Terrified. Bleeding.
Something twisted violently inside his chest.
"No."
The word escaped before he realized it. He sat upright, fingers gripping the edge of the seat.
"No." His voice cracked. "That's—"
He couldn't finish. His eyes burned.
Ligeia offered a sad smile.
"It happened a long time ago."
"I don't care."
The response came too quickly.
Too honestly.
Angel rubbed at his face.
"That's not fair. It shouldn't have happened."
Ligeia's expression softened further.
Angel looked away, his eyes filling with tears and his hands trembled slightly.
"I should'a been there."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Ligeia blinked.
"Anthony—"
"I shoulda been there!"
His voice grew rougher.
"If I hadn't taken the fuckin' drugs, if— if I'dve lived longer—"
"You couldn't have known."
"I coulda protected you."
The confession hung between them, raw and painful.
Ligeia stared at him, and suddenly she wasn't looking at the famous porn star, or the sinner demon, or the broken man Valentino owned.
She was looking at the same boy she'd known all those years ago.
The one who always picked fights with anyone who upset her.
The one who'd stood between her and bullies.
The one who'd once gotten punched in the face because somebody called her a name.
The tears in Angel's eyes spilled over.
"I w-wasn't there t-to protect you, 'cause I died first," he sobbed. "You were like another sister to me and I wasn't even there when ya needed me the most, all cause I snorted some fuckin' dust and couldn't handle it."
"Oh, Anthony."
Before he could protest, she pulled him into a hug.
Angel froze for a moment, then melted into her embrace, sobbing.
His forehead pressed against her shoulder, and he wrapped all four of his arms around her as best he could.
"You couldn't have stopped it," she told him softly after a few minutes of letting him cry.
"I woulda tried."
He had stopped crying, but his voice still shook.
The cold probably wasn't helping.
Neither was exhaustion, nor years of buried grief.
Ligeia rubbed his back gently.
"You always wanted to protect everyone."
Angel laughed bitterly.
"Didn't do a great job."
"You protected me."
He looked up.
"What?"
"When we were kids. You protected me all the time."
Angel opened his mouth, then closed it again.
"You were my best friend, Angel," she said. "You made my life better."
A tear of her own escaped before she could stop it.
"And you still do."
For a moment Angel simply stared at her.
Then his nose twitched and his breath hitched unevenly.
"Oh, son of a—Haaaah..."
Ligeia immediately grabbed the handkerchief.
"Hh'EHTSCHOO!"
She held it up just in time, cupping it over his nose for him.
"Hh'KTSCHH!"
"Gesundheit."
"ETSCHOO!"
"You're welcome," she giggled. Angel groaned into the cloth as the fit finally ended.
Ligeia laughed softly, letting him take the cloth so he could clean himself up.
The sound of her laugh made him smile despite himself.
"You're impossible," she said.
"Yeah."
She smoothed his hair back again.
"And you're sick."
"Also yeah."
"Then stop worrying about things that happened decades ago, and focus on getting over this cold."
Angel settled reluctantly against her side.
Ligeia resumed stroking his hair.
After a few moments he spoke quietly.
"Hey, Geia?"
"Yeah?" She asked, smiling at the nickname.
"I'm glad you're here."
The words were barely audible, but she heard them.
Her smile became warm and genuine.
"Me too."
This time, when sleep began pulling at him again, Angel didn't fight it.
He rested his head back in her lap, and while her fingers moved gently through his hair, he finally allowed himself to believe that some things lost weren't gone forever.
Summary: Charlie catches another stubborn cold, and Vaggie takes care of her.
A Cold Morning
Charlie Morningstar had always been the kind of person who tried to power through anything.
Unfortunately, even the Princess of Hell wasn't immune to a truly miserable head cold.
"Ah... hih... hihh..."
Charlie stood in the hotel lobby with a tissue clutched beneath her nose, which was running in a very un-ladylike manner. Her eyes were watering as she fought a sneeze.
"Hihh... hihh..."
Nothing.
The urge vanished, leaving her groaning in frustration.
"Oh, come on..."
Her voice sounded thick and congested. Her nose was bright pink from constant wiping, and despite her efforts to look energetic, she was clearly exhausted.
Vaggie crossed her arms.
"Charlie."
Charlie immediately froze. The tone meant trouble.
"Y-yeah?"
"When was the last time you rested?"
"I'm perfectly rested!"
Vaggie raised an eyebrow.
"You fell asleep for six minutes during breakfast."
"That counts!"
"No, it doesn't."
Charlie opened her mouth to argue.
Instead—
"Hih-TCHOO!"
The sneeze snapped her forward so suddenly she nearly dropped her tissue.
"...ow."
Vaggie sighed.
"You're sick."
"I'm f-fine."
"Honey, you've sneezed twenty times in the last hour."
Charlie sniffled loudly.
"...twenty-three."
"Exactly."
Another wet sniffle followed. Vaggie's expression softened.
Charlie looked miserable.
Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was a mess, and she looked like she could fall asleep standing up.
"Bed."
Charlie's shoulders slumped.
Normally she would have tried to negotiate.
Maybe. A little.
But Vaggie had perfected the art of the 'I'm not arguing about this' look.
And Charlie could never say no to her.
"...okay."
"Good."
Vaggie took her hand.
Charlie smiled weakly and let herself be led upstairs.
***
A few minutes later Charlie was tucked beneath a mountain of blankets.
She looked vaguely offended by the situation.
"I should be helping everyone."
"You should be sleeping."
"I can do both."
"You literally cannot."
Charlie pouted.
Vaggie adjusted the blankets around her.
"No hotel work."
"But—"
"No."
Charlie sighed dramatically.
"You're very bossy."
"Only when you're being stubborn."
Charlie couldn't even deny it.
Another tickle stirred in her nose. She lifted a tissue to her nose.
"Hih... hih..."
Nothing.
Her breath hitched again.
"Hihh..."
Still nothing.
The sensation lingered annoyingly.
Charlie rubbed her nose.
"Oh, that's the worst."
"A stuck sneeze?"
Charlie nodded miserably.
"Uh-huh."
Vaggie climbed into bed beside her and pulled her into a gentle cuddle.
Charlie's head immediately found its favorite spot on Vaggie's shoulder.
"Comfortable?" Vaggie asked.
"Mhm."
Within seconds Charlie was practically melting against her.
The warmth was wonderful.
So was the steady hand stroking her hair.
Unfortunately, the stubborn sneeze still refused to happen.
"Hih..."
Charlie squinted.
"Hihh..."
Nothing.
She groaned.
"It's stuck."
Vaggie smirked.
"I noticed."
"It won't come out."
"Need some help?"
Charlie blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Vaggie gently took a feather from her own wing and brushed it beneath Charlie's nose.
The already-sensitive nose twitched immediately.
Charlie squeaked.
"V-Vaggie—"
A second light tickle.
"Hih!"
Then another.
Charlie's eyes widened.
"Oh no..."
Vaggie was clearly enjoying herself.
The teasing strokes continued just enough to aggravate the lingering tickle.
"Hih... hihh..."
Charlie grabbed for a tissue.
"Wait—Hihh... HIIH..."
The sneeze finally built to completion.
"HIIH-TCHOO!"
A second followed instantly.
"HATCHOO!"
Then a third.
"Hih-TCHOO!"
Charlie collapsed back against the pillows with a relieved sigh.
"Oh, thank goodness."
Vaggie laughed softly.
"Feel better?"
"Much."
Charlie gave her nosea loud, wet blow followed by a careful wipe.
Then she snuggled even closer.
"You're lucky you're cute."
"I'm lucky?"
"You weaponized my sneezes."
Vaggie kissed the top of her head.
"And it worked."
Charlie couldn't argue with that.
The tickle was gone.
The pressure in her sinuses felt a little lighter.
Most importantly, she was warm and comfortable.
Vaggie's arms wrapped securely around her.
"Now," Vaggie said, settling in beside her. "You're going to sleep."
Charlie yawned immediately.
Which didn't help her case.
"...maybe."
"Charlie."
"Okay, okay."
Her eyes were already drooping.
A few moments later she was curled against Vaggie, breathing softly.
Vaggie smiled and brushed a hand through her hair.
For once, the Princess of Hell wasn't trying to save anyone.
She was simply resting.
And with Vaggie keeping watch beside her, that was exactly where she needed to be.
Summary: Charlie has a new redemption plan. Unfortunately, she also has a Hell cold, which causes her powers to get out of control.
Requested by @mijoletu
Charlie's Hell Cold
Charlie Morningstar had announced three new redemption programs before breakfast, and two before lunch.
“Okay!” Charlie beamed from the lobby staircase, cheeks flushed and eyes watery as she held up a glitter-covered poster board. “New idea number seven! Group trust exercises!”
A tiny spark popped from her nose.
Vaggie immediately ducked.
“Charlie—”
“I call it…” Charlie inhaled sharply, nose twitching. “The Empathy Expre—heehh—”
“Get down!” Vaggie yelled. Everyone ducked.
“HAASSHHHOOO!!”
Charlie's sneeze was surprisingly loud and decidedly un-princess-like.
A blast of pink-and-gold hellfire exploded across the lobby ceiling. The chandelier melted instantly. Husk yelped as his newspaper ignited in his paws.
“SON OF A—”
Angel Dust casually lifted his feet onto the couch as flaming debris rained around them.
“Okay, this is gettin’ kinda hot, even for me.”
Charlie sniffled miserably, smoke curling from her nostrils.
“S-sorry…”
Niffty zoomed past carrying a mop.
“Oooh! Ceiling sludge!”
Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose.
This had been going on for three days.
Hell colds were already uncommon among demons, but royal Hell colds were apparently catastrophic. Lucifer had once described it as “like puberty, with biohazard symptoms.” Charlie’s powers surged wildly whenever she coughed, sneezed, or got emotional—which, unfortunately, was all the time.
And despite visibly deteriorating by the hour, Charlie refused to rest.
“I’m fine,” Charlie insisted weakly as she climbed down the stairs. “We just need structure! Positive reinforcement! Maybe matching friendship bracelets—”
Her voice cracked into a cough.
Tiny embers puffed from her mouth.
Vaggie crossed her arms.
“You almost cremated the lobby.”
“But the guests were engaged!”
“Because they were running for their lives!”
Charlie opened her mouth to protest, then suddenly froze. Vaggie narrowed her eye.
“No.”
Charlie’s nose wrinkled.
“Charlie.”
“Hiihh…”
“Don’t you dare—”
“I cahh...can't...HASHHOO!!”
Another stream of fire erupted sideways, blasting a hole through the wall beside the bar.
Then there was silence. Dust drifted down slowly.
From the newly created hole, a demon across the street blinked into the hotel lobby, gave a thumbs up, and kept walking.
Charlie wilted in embarrassment.
“...Oops.”
Husk took a long swig from a bottle.
“I’m too fuckin' sober for this.”
Vaggie marched straight toward Charlie, grabbed her shoulders, and steered her toward the elevator.
“Hey—wait—Vaggie, we still haven’t done the afternoon affirmations!”
“You are going to bed.”
“I can still work!”
“You sneezed a structural renovation!”
Charlie dug her heels into the carpet.
“The hotel needs me!”
“The hotel needs to not explode!”
Charlie looked genuinely distressed by that.
“But redemption takes consistency, and if I stop now, everyone’s progress could—”
She broke off into another coughing fit, shoulders trembling. This time, instead of fire, glowing magic burst around her in jagged pink pulses. The lobby lights flickered violently. Furniture levitated two feet off the ground.
Angel slowly slid off the couch.
“Uh. Is gravity supposed to be optional?”
Charlie stared at her own glowing hands in alarm.
“I-I didn’t mean to…”
Vaggie’s frustration immediately softened.
Charlie looked exhausted.
Not just physically—though the dark circles under her eyes were obvious—but emotionally. Like she genuinely believed the entire hotel would collapse if she stopped moving for even a second.
Vaggie sighed.
Then she gently took Charlie’s hands before another magical surge could spark.
“Hey,” she said quietly. Charlie sniffled.
“You know redemption isn’t going to disappear overnight, right?”
“But—”
“You’re sick, Char.”
Charlie looked away stubbornly.
“Princesses shouldn’t be weak.”
Vaggie snorted softly.
“Good thing you’re terrible at acting like one.”
That earned the tiniest laugh.
Vaggie stepped closer.
“You’ve spent every day trying to help everyone else. Let us help you for once.”
Charlie’s expression cracked a little at that.
Another sneeze threatened immediately afterward.
“Hah..haahh…”
Vaggie instantly grabbed a nearby blanket and threw it over Charlie like a shield just as...
“HA'ESHOO!!”
Muffled fire whoomphed beneath the blanket.
When the smoke cleared, Charlie peeked out sheepishly, hair frazzled and eyes watery.
“Adorable," Vaggie deadpanned. "Hazardous, but adorable.”
Angel Dust leaned over the couch.
“Can we keep the blanket trick? ‘Cause honestly that was kinda genius.”
“Not helping,” Vaggie muttered. Charlie swayed slightly on her feet.
That finally did it.
Without another word, Vaggie scooped Charlie into her arms. Charlie squeaked.
“Vaggie!”
“You are done for today.”
“I have plans!”
“You can plan after twelve hours of sleep and maybe not turning the building into a volcano.”
Charlie pouted weakly against her shoulder.
“What if everyone loses motivation while I’m resting?”
At that, a voice called from the lobby.
“We won’t.”
Charlie blinked. The hotel guests were all standing there awkwardly.
Even Husk had put his drink down.
Angel shrugged.
“Yeah, toots. We can survive one day without motivational karaoke.”
Niffty saluted with three cleaning bottles.
“I’ll disinfect everything!”
Alastor appeared beside the broken wall with his usual grin.
“And I must admit, Charlie dear, the spontaneous combustion has become somewhat repetitive.”
“Gee, thanks,” Vaggie muttered. Charlie looked genuinely touched.
Her eyes shimmered softly.
Then her nose twitched again.
Everyone collectively backed away.
Charlie groaned.
“Not again…”
Vaggie tightened the blanket around her like bomb containment.
“Move.”
“Hehh...huhh...HURRSHHOOO!”
A muffled boom echoed through the lobby.
A second later, Husk glanced upward as ash drifted from the ceiling.
“…Think the roof’s still there?”
Angel looked up.
“Mostly.”
Vaggie kept walking toward the elevator.
Charlie sniffled miserably against her shoulder, finally too tired to argue anymore.
“…Maybe a short nap,” she mumbled. Vaggie kissed the top of her head.
“That’s my girl.”
Behind them, another chunk of chandelier crashed to the floor.
Title: Hell Lilies - Part 3 (requested by @mijoletu)
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Lucifer, Ligeia (OC)
Pairing: Chaggie
Tags/Warnings: female sneezes, allergies
Summary: The final part. With Ligeia's help, Charlie finally figures out what Vaggie is allergic to.
Hell Lilies - Chapter 3
The Hazbin Hotel lobby had gained a strange new atmosphere over the next day.
It smelled fantastic.
Unfortunately, that also meant Vaggie could no longer enter half the building without sneezing herself into another dimension.
Charlie sat at the front desk with her chin in her hands, miserably staring at the bottle of Hell Lily Pet Shampoo.
“I don’t get it. Vaggie’s known Keekee forever.”
“Which is why it’s weird,” came a new voice.
Charlie looked up.
Ligeia stood near the staircase, arms folded thoughtfully.
The hotel’s newest resident had only arrived a week ago, but she already carried herself with calm confidence that somehow made the chaos around her seem quieter. Her black dress flowed behind her like ink in water, and her sharp amber eyes flicked toward the shampoo bottle.
“I agree with you, Charlie,” she said. “It doesn’t make sense for the allergy to suddenly appear overnight.”
Husk raised an eyebrow from behind the bar.
“Actually, that’s exactly how allergies work sometimes.”
Ligeia shrugged lightly.
“Sometimes. But usually there’s a trigger.”
Charlie immediately sat upright.
“Exactly!”
Vaggie sniffled from the couch.
“I’m still leaning toward the giant bottle labeled concentrated Hell lilies.”
“That too,” Ligeia admitted.
Charlie grabbed the shampoo dramatically.
“But everybody else is fine!”
Angel Dust sniffed Keekee’s blanket nearby.
“I’m more than fine. I wanna use this stuff myself.”
“You already shed enough,” Husk muttered.
Ligeia stepped closer, studying the bottle carefully.
“Hmm.”
“What?” Charlie asked hopefully.
"May I?" She asked, gesturing to the bottle. Charlie nodded.
Ligeia popped the cap open and sniffed. Almost immediately, her nose wrinkled.
"Heh...haahhh...Eshiew!"
She quickly snapped the bottlecap back on.
"Tha...that's it," she sniffled. "I'm aller...herrrhhh...chieww!! Allergic to Hell lillies myseh...hehh...snff! Myself. All we need to do is get Vaggie to sniff this and we'll know."
Charlie yelled for Vaggie, who appeared moments later.
"What's up?"
"Babe, I'm really sorry about this, but I need you to do something for me."
"Okay..." Vaggie looked unsure.
Ligeia walked closer to her, holding the shampoo bottle.
"Just have a little sniff of this," she said. She popped the cap open and Vaggie took a quick whiff. The affect was immediate.
“Heh-CHOO! ESSHOO! O-oh, Satan. ACHIEWW!! What the— EESHHIEWWW!!”
"What in the Seven Rings of Hell is going on out here?" Lucifer asked, appearing behind them with Keekee at his heels.
Angel Dust collapsed onto the couch laughing.
"Holy crap, the cat’s innocent!”
Charlie scooped up Keekee immediately, covering her face with relieved kisses.
“I knew it! I knew my baby wasn’t the problem!”
Keekee purred smugly.
Husk took a sip from his drink.
“Congrats. The shampoo’s evil.”
Ligeia smiled faintly.
“Not evil. Just weaponised.”
Lucifer looked personally offended somehow.
“Excuse me, I invented Hell lillies. My flowers would never—”
Summary: Bane and Seraphina are cuddling when he feels another tickle. Sera tries to lighten the mood.
Sneeze Cannon
Bane’s hand continued its slow path along Seraphina’s back while she rested comfortably against him, warm and loose in his arms.
Then she felt a tiny hitch in his breathing, as his nose twitched once against her hair.
Then again.
Seraphina lifted her head slightly, already suspicious.
Bane immediately tried to turn his face away from her shoulder, sniffling faintly as his nostrils fluttered with the beginnings of another tickle.
“Oh no,” he muttered thickly. “Sera, I think—huhhh…”
His breath caught.
Seraphina looked up at him, and despite herself, a grin spread across her face.
“Uh-oh,” she teased softly. “Are your sneeze holes itchy again?”
There was a split second of stunned silence.
Bane stared at her.
Then, despite the obvious tickle building in his nose, he burst out laughing, a huge, startled laugh that rumbled straight out of his chest before he could stop it.
“My—my what?” he wheezed, completely thrown off. Seraphina was already giggling helplessly.
“Your sneeze holes!” she repeated brightly, like it was perfectly reasonable terminology. “They look very itchy.”
Bane laughed harder, shoulders shaking now. Even his ears flicked back in disbelief.
“Sera!” he choked out between laughs. “That’s not what they’re called!”
“Well, technically—”
He snorted loudly, laughter abruptly tangling with the tickle in his nose.
“Oh no,” Seraphina said immediately, delighted. “Now you’re doomed.”
Bane tried to speak again, but another laugh broke out first, immediately followed by a desperate hitch in his breathing.
“HUHH...hih… wait—”
His nose twitched violently. Seraphina was already reaching for tissues again, barely containing her own laughter now.
"Tickle engaged," she giggled. "Fire the sneeze cannon whenever you're ready."
"F-fuhhh...fire the what?"
"Sneeze cannon," she replied matter-of-factly.
Bane made a helpless, utterly betrayed sound and laughed again despite himself—which only made the tickle worse.
“Hih—huhhhh… Sera!”
That was all the warning she got before he doubled forward into the tissues with an enormous...
“HAAAHSCHOOOO!”
The sneeze exploded out of him mid-laugh, loud enough to shake the blankets again.
Seraphina barely managed to keep the tissues in place before she dissolved into giggles herself.
“C’mere, sneezy boy,” she teased affectionately, tossing the tissues aside and gathering a fresh handful. “Your poor sneeze holes need assistance.”
Bane groaned into the tissues in complete humiliation while she continued laughing softly and rubbing his back affectionately.
“Sneeze holes,” he mumbled, still snuffling a bit. "Sneeze cannon. Sera, I love you...but you worry me sometimes."
Seraphina just grinned and kissed the tip of his nose.
Hey all. Today is exactly one week since my pupper passed away. I picked up her ashes yesterday. The urn is absolutely beautiful and they even included a frame with a paw and nose print, and a clipping of her fur.
My girl is now home again on the top of my bookshelf next to her "brother", my cat who passed in 2017.
Thank you all for your patience during this time. I've had a few days off and I'm feeling ready to ease back into writing again.
Summary: When Niffty catches a cold, she refuses to take time off. Ligeia tries to get her to rest, enlisting the help of Alastor.
Housekeeping
Morning in the Hazbin Hotel rarely arrived quietly, but that day it started with something… softer.
A faint, congested sneeze echoed down the hallway.
“Hh’—hih… hih’kshh!”
Niffty stood frozen in the middle of the corridor, one hand still clutching a feather duster, the other rubbing at her nose as if offended it had betrayed her so dramatically. Her usual frantic sparkle was dulled, her cheeks a little flushed, her one large eye watery.
“I am fine!” she declared immediately to no one in particular. Then her voice cracked. “I am perfectly—hih— hih’ksCHH! —perfectly operational!”
From the doorway of her room, Ligeia watched. Long dark purple hair spilled over her shoulders like ink in water, and her amber eyes softened as they settled on Niffty. There was no hesitation in her expression, only concern that sat deep and familiar, like she’d been worried about the tiny cyclops demon long before today.
“She’s worse,” Ligeia murmured. A shadow shifted beside her.
“Well,” came a smooth, amused drawl. "That is usually how illnesses behave.”
Alastor stepped into view like he always did—effortless, composed, smiling as if the world itself was a performance staged for his amusement. But his gaze flicked to Niffty, then back to Ligeia, watching her more than the situation.
Ligeia didn’t look away from Niffty.
“She shouldn’t be out of bed.”
“Ah,” Alastor replied lightly. "I believe convincing her of that will be a rather… entertaining challenge.”
Niffty sneezed again, smaller this time but sharper, her whole body jolting.
“Hih’tschh!”
She sniffled hard, immediately marching forward anyway.
“No time to be sick! The hotel won’t clean itself!”
She bent to pick up a dust rag and promptly wobbled.
Ligeia was there in an instant.
Not fast in a showy way like Alastor—just suddenly present, catching Niffty before she tipped forward into a stack of cleaning supplies.
“You’re going back to bed,” Ligeia said gently.
“I am NOT going—hih—” Niffty froze mid-protest, eyes widening as her breath hitched. “Oh no—no no no...Hih… hiihhh...kshh! Hakishhooo!"
The sneezing fit doubled her over completely. Ligeia guided her carefully upright again, expression soft but unyielding.
“Yes. You are.”
From behind them, Alastor chuckled.
"She does have a point, dear Niffty.”
“I don't care if she has a point!” Niffty insisted hoarsely, immediately trying to wrestle free. “I have a schedule!”
“You have a fever,” Ligeia corrected, brushing a stray bit of hair from Niffty’s damp forehead. The touch was unexpectedly gentle. “And you’re shaking.”
That made Niffty pause. Just for a second.
Then she sneezed again, smaller and tired this time.
“Hih’… tschieew!!”
Her resistance faltered.
Alastor tilted his head slightly, studying her like an interesting broadcast.
“You know, I’ve faced mobsters, hellhounds, and bureaucrats with more ease than this tiny creature attempting to defy a common cold.”
“I heard that!” Niffty snapped weakly. Ligeia exhaled, almost smiling.
“Alastor.”
At the sound of his name in her voice, something subtle shifted in him—like a radio dial adjusting just slightly off its usual frequency.
“Yes, Ligeia?” he replied, still smiling, but softer at the edges.
“I need your help,” she said. That alone seemed to amuse him more than anything else that morning.
“My help?”
She finally looked at him then—amber eyes steady, warm in a way that didn’t match the haunted charm of the hotel at all.
“If she sees a broom, she’ll try to clean the entire building while sneezing her lungs out.”
Niffty, as if summoned by destiny itself, immediately tried to reach for a mop propped against the wall.
“I can still—”
“No,” Ligeia and Alastor said at the same time.
Niffty froze.
“Bed," Ligeia told her, firmly but not unkindly. "Now.”
What followed was, in Niffty’s opinion, a betrayal of the highest order.
She was gently but firmly escorted—Alastor theatrically opening doors as if they were ushering royalty, while Ligeia kept a steady hand at her back so she didn’t stumble. Niffty protested the entire way in between sniffles and sneezes.
“I am fine! Hahh...hih’kshh! I don’t need—hih’—ktschh!—assistance!”
Alastor leaned closer to Ligeia as they walked, voice low with amusement.
“You must admit, my dear, she does have spirit.”
“She absolutely does,” Ligeia replied, and there was something fond in it—quietly protective. “That’s the problem.”
When they reached Niffty’s room, chaos was immediate.
Niffty tried to launch herself toward a stray stack of linens. Ligeia redirected her. Niffty tried to reach for a window to 'air out the germs'.
Alastor, with exaggerated elegance, closed it before she could get there. Niffty attempted to crawl out of bed entirely.
Ligeia gently but decisively guided her back under the blankets.
“You are going to rest,” she said, smoothing the covers down.
“I don’t rest!” Niffty protested weakly. “Rest is for people who—hih—hih’kshh!—who are lazy!”
“That’s not true,” Ligeia said.
Alastor leaned against the wall, watching with quiet amusement.
“It’s also statistically unhelpful in your current condition.”
Niffty glared at him.
“I don’t like statistics.”
“Noted,” he said brightly. Niffty sniffled, then sneezed again into her sleeve, smaller and exhausted now. The fight was clearly leaving her little by little.
Ligeia sat beside the bed. That alone made Niffty hesitate.
“You’re… staying?” she asked, suddenly quieter.
“Of course,” Ligeia said simply. Niffty blinked up at her.
For a moment, all the frantic energy drained out of her completely, leaving just a small, tired demon who didn’t quite know what to do with being taken care of.
“I don’t like being sick,” Niffty admitted.
“I know,” Ligeia said, brushing her hair back again. “That’s why you don’t have to do it alone.”
Niffty sniffled faintly, then gave a small, defeated sigh.
“Fine. I’ll stay in bed.”
A pause.
“But only because I’m too dizzy to argue properly.”
“That’s the spirit,” Alastor said cheerfully.
Ligeia adjusted the blanket around her like she was tucking in something far more precious than she expected to find in Hell.
“Good.”
Niffty’s eyes fluttered, exhaustion finally catching up to her.
Across the room, Alastor’s smile lingered. It was less theatrical now, more thoughtful.
As Niffty finally settled into sleep, the hotel outside continued its usual chaos...but in that room, for once, there was quiet.
Summary: Emily catches a cold on the morning of a big meeting. Abel convinces her to rest.
The halls of Heaven’s upper sanctum shimmered with their usual golden light, quiet except for the distant chiming of celestial bells. Normally, Emily loved mornings like this. The air felt fresh, the clouds below looked soft enough to sleep on, and the palace corridors buzzed with purpose as angels prepared for another day.
Stubborn Angel
Today, however, every step felt heavier than the last.
Emily walked briskly through the corridor, clutching a stack of glowing scrolls against her chest. Her wings drooped ever so slightly behind her, feathers ruffled in a way she usually never allowed. She sniffled quietly and rubbed at her nose before glancing around to make sure no one had noticed.
“I’m fine,” she whispered to herself.
Unfortunately, her body seemed determined to disagree.
A tickle flared sharply in her nose.
Emily froze.
No, no, not now!
She pinched her nose quickly, shoulders tensing as she fought the sneeze back with all the grace she could manage.
“Hh… nghxcht!”
The sensation lingered stubbornly for a moment before fading. Emily exhaled shakily in relief and straightened her posture again.
“Crisis avoided,” she muttered hoarsely.
“You know, most people just sneeze instead of fighting for their life against it.”
Emily nearly jumped out of her skin.
Abel stood a few feet away near one of the marble pillars, arms folded loosely as amusement flickered across his face.
Emily immediately smiled too brightly.
“Abel! Good morning!”
“You sound terrible.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
Emily opened her mouth to argue, only for another tickle to interrupt her. Her eyes widened in panic. She turned away sharply, pressing her wrist beneath her nose.
“Hih… hih!”
Abel watched her shoulders tense.
Emily tried desperately to hold it back again, but this time her body won.
The sneeze echoed embarrassingly through the hallway.
“Hih’TSHIEW!”
Silence followed. Emily stared at the floor in horror.
“…Bless you,” Abel said gently.
“I’m fine,” she said immediately, voice thick with congestion.
Abel raised an eyebrow.
“That sounded like the least convincing sentence ever spoken.”
Emily sniffled again and hurried past him.
“I just have a tiny cold. It’s nothing important. I’m already late for the seraphim meeting.”
Abel fell into step beside her.
“You mean the three-hour strategy discussion?”
“It might only be two hours.”
“You say that every time.”
Emily tried to maintain her dignified pace, but another cough escaped into her sleeve. Her wings fluttered weakly afterward.
Abel’s expression softened further.
“Emily.”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re hiding sneezes in hallways.”
“That is not evidence of anything.”
“You look like you’re about to collapse into a decorative vase.”
Emily groaned quietly.
“I cannot miss the meeting. Sera already thinks I’m too inexperienced sometimes. If I skip it because of a cold, she’ll—oh, no. Hehh…TSHhh!”
Emily sneezed suddenly into both hands this time, nearly dropping her scrolls.
Abel caught the papers before they hit the floor.
“…She’ll probably tell you to go to bed,” he finished.
Emily’s cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.
“I hate being sick.”
“Most people do.”
“It’s inconvenient.”
“You have a fever, don’t you?”
“I do not.”
Abel reached over before she could dodge and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.
Emily squeaked in protest.
“Emily,” he said flatly. “You are literally burning up.”
“It’s a very slight fever.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I can absolutely stand.”
To prove her point, she took another determined step forward. Immediately afterward, she swayed.
Abel caught her by the shoulders before she could stumble sideways into the wall.
“…Okay,” Emily mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “That may have been unfortunate timing.”
Abel sighed, though there was fondness in it.
“You don’t have to push yourself this hard.”
“But the meeting—”
“Will survive without you.”
Emily frowned.
“I don’t like letting people down.”
Abel’s voice became quieter.
“And running yourself into the clouds isn’t helping anyone either.”
For a moment, Emily said nothing. The exhaustion she’d been stubbornly ignoring suddenly felt impossible to hide. Her nose was still tickling relentlessly, her head pounded, and every inch of her felt warm and heavy.
“Hih… hih’TSCHOO!”
Abel handed her a handkerchief before she could even react.
“…Thank you,” she mumbled miserably.
“There’s the first sensible thing you’ve said all morning.”
Emily gave him a weak glare.
Abel smiled slightly and gathered the fallen scrolls under one arm.
“I’ll inform the others you’re sick.”
“That’s humiliating.”
“No, collapsing during a meeting would be humiliating.”
“…Fair.”
He gently guided her back down the corridor away from the council chambers.
“Come on. Bed. Tea. Minimal talking.”
“You sound bossy.”
“You sound congested.”
Emily tried not to laugh, but it turned into another cough instead.
As they walked, her steps gradually slowed until she leaned slightly against Abel’s side, too tired to pretend otherwise anymore.
Abel glanced down at her with quiet concern.
“You really were trying to hide this from everyone, huh?”
Emily sniffled.
“I thought if I ignored it, maybe it would go away.”
“That has never worked in the history of creation.”
“…I was hopeful.”
Abel chuckled softly.
By the time they reached her room, Emily’s eyes were already half-closed with exhaustion. Abel opened the door for her, guiding her inside toward the enormous cloud-soft bed near the windows.
Emily sat down reluctantly.
“I still think I could’ve attended at least half the meeting.”
Abel pulled the blankets over her before she could protest further.
“Absolutely not.”
She opened her mouth again...
“Hih’TSHOO!”
Abel simply pointed at her.
Emily sighed dramatically and sank deeper into the pillows.
“…Fine.”
“Good choice.”
As sunlight streamed gently through the heavenly windows, Emily finally stopped fighting her exhaustion. Within minutes, she was asleep beneath the blankets, wings tucked close and breathing softly despite the occasional congested sniffle.
Abel stayed nearby a little longer, quietly organizing her scattered scrolls.
“Stubborn angel.”
And when Emily sneezed sleepily for what was probably the tenth time that morning, he only shook his head with an amused smile.
Summary: Charlie is stuck in bed with a terrible headcold. Luckily she has Vaggie to take care of her.
A Hell of a Cold
The hotel was unusually quiet.
No booming laughter from Angel Dust echoed through the halls. No distant explosions from Sir Pentious’s latest failed invention rattled the windows. Even Husk had abandoned the lobby in favor of somewhere less chaotic.
For once, the hotel felt calm.
And in Charlie and Vaggie’s room, bundled beneath three blankets and surrounded by crumpled tissues, the Princess of Hell looked absolutely miserable.
“Hih... hiihh...”
Charlie’s nose twitched furiously. Her watery red eyes squeezed shut as she tried desperately to hold back another sneeze. It only made her look more pitiful.
“Charlie,” Vaggie warned gently from beside the bed, holding out another tissue. “Don’t do that to yourself.”
“I’m fi-hh... fihh...”
Charlie pitched forward suddenly, her nose buried in the crook of her elbow.
“HAAASHMPH! Hih’ISHOOMPH! HAHH-TSCMPH!”
The muffled but still loud, wet sneezes exploded out of her in a rapid series, leaving her breathless afterward. She groaned softly and collapsed back into the mountain of pillows.
“Ugh...”
Vaggie handed her the tissue box before brushing damp blonde hair away from Charlie’s forehead.
“Bless you.”
Charlie gave a weak, congested sniffle.
“Sorry...”
“You don’t have to apologize for sneezing.”
“But I keep doi'g it,” Charlie mumbled, completely congested. “Like... codstadtly.”
“That’s generally how colds work.”
Charlie frowned at the ceiling. Her voice came out stuffy and small.
“I’b bei'g addoyi'g.”
Vaggie’s expression softened immediately.
“Charlie.”
The princess finally glanced over, her nose an angry red from endless blowing and wiping.
“You are not annoying.”
Charlie opened her mouth to argue, but another tickle overtook her instantly.
“Hih... ihh... hihh...”
Vaggie already had tissues ready. She pressed them into Charlie's hands just in time.
“HAAASHOO! HUH’TSCHOO! Hih-ISHOO!”
The force of the fit bent Charlie forward helplessly. Vaggie steadied her with one hand on her shoulder while the other rubbed circles against her back.
“Easy, babe.”
Charlie groaned into the tissues.
“See? That. That’s what I bead.”
“You sneezed three times.”
“I sdeezed three tibes loudly.”
“You’re sick,” Vaggie said patiently. “You’re allowed.”
Charlie slumped lower beneath the blankets.
“I just feel bad because you’re stuck taki'g care of mbe.”
At that, Vaggie actually looked offended.
“Stuck?”
Charlie blinked.
Vaggie crossed her arms.
“You take care of literally everyone in this hotel all the time. You think I can’t handle taking care of my girlfriend for one cold?”
“It’s a really bad cold,” Charlie muttered hoarsely.
“Yeah, and you’re really dramatic about it.”
Charlie gasped weakly.
“I amb dot.”
Vaggie raised an eyebrow.
Right on cue, Charlie’s nose twitched again.
“Hih... haahh...”
She tried to wave it away desperately.
“No, wait, I—HAAASHOO! HAH-ISHOO! HUH’TSCHOO!”
The final sneeze snapped her forward so hard she nearly tangled herself in the blankets.
Vaggie couldn’t help laughing a little.
Charlie blew her nose hard, then stared at her in betrayal, cheeks flushed with fever and embarrassment.
“You’re making fun of me while I suffer.”
“I’m making fun of you because you’re cute.”
Charlie’s entire expression melted instantly.
“That’s not fair,” she mumbled. Vaggie smiled softly and sat beside her on the bed again.
“C’mere.”
Charlie didn’t hesitate. She scooted over until she could rest against Vaggie’s shoulder, blanket cocoon and all. Vaggie wrapped an arm around her carefully, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Charlie sighed contentedly despite her congestion.
“You really don’t mind?” she asked quietly.
Vaggie looked down at her.
Charlie’s eyes were heavy and tired, nose still pink, expression vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. Even sick, she seemed more worried about inconveniencing everyone else than about herself.
Vaggie’s chest ached a little.
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t mind the sneezing. I don’t mind the tissues. I don’t mind any of it.”
Charlie sniffled.
“Even when I wake you up at three in the morning because I can’t stop sneezing?”
“That was admittedly impressive.”
Charlie buried her face against Vaggie’s shoulder with a groan.
“Vaggie—”
“But no,” Vaggie continued warmly, rubbing her arm. “I still don’t mind.”
Another small silence settled over the room.
Then Charlie mumbled, barely audible.
“I kinda like being taken care of.”
Vaggie smirked.
“Oh, really? Couldn’t tell.”
Charlie peeked up at her sheepishly.
“Usually I’m the one trying to help everybody else. It’s... nice.”
“Well, get used to it.” Vaggie adjusted the blankets around her. “Because you’re staying in bed until this cold is gone.”
Charlie immediately pouted.
“But I have responsibilities.”
“You have a fever.”
“But—”
“Nope.”
Charlie huffed dramatically through her stuffed nose.
“Hih...hehhh...oh, no...”
Vaggie sighed knowingly and grabbed more tissues.
Charlie sneezed helplessly into them moments later.
Summary: Charlie and Ligeia, the Hotel's newest guest, finally figure out what's making Vaggie sneeze.
Hell Lilies - Chapter 3
The Hazbin Hotel lobby had gained a strange new atmosphere over the next day.
It smelled fantastic.
Unfortunately, that also meant Vaggie could no longer enter half the building without sneezing herself into another dimension.
Charlie sat at the front desk with her chin in her hands, miserably staring at the bottle of Hell Lily Pet Shampoo.
“I don’t get it. Vaggie’s known Keekee forever.”
“Which is why it’s weird,” came a new voice.
Charlie looked up.
Ligeia stood near the staircase, arms folded thoughtfully.
The hotel’s newest resident had only arrived a week ago, but she already carried herself with calm confidence that somehow made the chaos around her seem quieter. Her black dress flowed behind her like ink in water, and her sharp amber eyes flicked toward the shampoo bottle.
“I agree with you, Charlie,” she said, tucking a few stray strands of her dark purple hair behind her ear. “It doesn’t make sense for the allergy to suddenly appear overnight.”
Husk raised an eyebrow from behind the bar.
“Actually, that’s exactly how allergies work sometimes.”
Ligeia shrugged lightly.
“Sometimes. But usually there’s a trigger.”
Charlie immediately sat upright.
“Exactly!”
Vaggie sniffled from the couch.
“I’m still leaning toward the giant bottle labeled concentrated Hell lilies.”
“That too,” Ligeia admitted.
Charlie grabbed the shampoo dramatically.
“But everybody else is fine!”
Angel Dust sniffed Keekee’s blanket nearby.
“I’m more than fine. I wanna use this stuff myself.”
“You already shed enough,” Husk muttered.
Ligeia stepped closer, studying the bottle carefully.
“Hmm.”
“What?” Charlie asked hopefully.
"May I?" She asked, gesturing to the bottle. Charlie nodded.
Ligeia popped the cap open and sniffed. Almost immediately, her nose wrinkled.
"Heh...haahhh...Eshiew!"
She quickly snapped the bottlecap back on.
"Thahhh...that's it," she sniffled. "I'm aller...herrrhhh...chieww!! Allergic to Hell lillies mysehh...hehh...snff! Myself. All we need to do is get Vaggie to sniff this, and we'll know."
Charlie yelled for Vaggie, who appeared moments later.
"What's up?"
"Babe, I'm really sorry about this, but I need you to do something for me."
"Okay..." Vaggie looked unsure.
Ligeia walked closer to her, holding the shampoo bottle.
"Just have a little sniff of this," she said. She popped the cap open and Vaggie took a quick whiff. The affect was immediate.
“Heh-CHOO! ESSHOO! O-oh, Satan. ACHIEWW!! What the— EESHHIEWWW!!”
"What in the Seven Rings of Hell is going on out here?" Lucifer asked, appearing behind them with Keekee at his heels.
Angel Dust collapsed onto the couch laughing.
“Oh my God, the cat’s innocent!”
Charlie scooped up Keekee immediately, covering her face with relieved kisses.
“I knew it! I knew my baby wasn’t the problem!”
Keekee purred smugly.
Husk took a sip from his drink.
“Congrats. The shampoo’s evil.”
Ligeia smiled faintly.
“Not evil. Just weaponised.”
Lucifer looked personally offended somehow.
“Excuse me, I invented Hell lillies. My flowers would never—”
Tags/Warnings: male sneezing, allergies, caretaking
Summary: Niffty makes a flower crown for Ligeia. She loves it, but Alastor is allergic to it. Ligeia and Alastor try to pinpoint the exact flower he's allergic to.
Ligeia's Crown
The first time Ligeia wore the flower crown outside her room, the entire hotel noticed.
Not because she made a spectacle of herself — Ligeia was far too soft-spoken for that — but because Niffty practically vibrated with pride every time someone glanced at it.
“I MADE IT!” she announced for the fourth time in ten minutes, appearing upside-down over the back of the lobby sofa. “See the little blue ones? Those are forget-me-nots! Symbolism!”
Ligeia laughed warmly.
“You’ve explained that to me three times already, sweetheart.”
“And I’ll explain it again!”
The crown really was beautiful. Tiny cream roses woven between pale blue blossoms, sprigs of lavender, and delicate white flowers Ligeia didn’t recognize. Black satin ribbons trailed down her dark purple hair, swaying whenever she moved.
Niffty clasped her hands under her chin and sighed dreamily.
“You look like a haunted princess.”
"Thank you, Niffty.”
Across the lobby, Alastor looked up from his newspaper.
His smile widened.
“My dear,” he said smoothly. “You look enchanting.”
Ligeia felt warmth creep into her cheeks despite herself. Their relationship — if it could even be called that yet — existed in a fragile, hesitant space between friendship and courtship. Lingering glances. Private conversations. Hands brushing a little too long.
And apparently, enough affection for compliments from him to completely unravel her composure.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Niffty squealed loud enough to rattle the windows.
***
Later that evening, the hotel had finally settled into relative quiet.
Charlie and Vaggie were occupied in the dining room arguing over some ridiculous trust exercise, Angel had disappeared somewhere with Husk, and Niffty had scampered off to clean things no one had asked her to clean.
Ligeia sat in one of the lounge chairs near the old radio in Alastor’s suite, turning the flower crown carefully in her hands while Alastor tuned the dial idly.
Soft jazz crackled through the room.
“You’ve been smiling at that crown for an hour,” he observed.
“She worked very hard on it.”
“And you adore her for it.”
“I do.”
Alastor chuckled quietly.
Ligeia rose from her chair and stepped closer to him.
“Would you help me figure out how to preserve it? I don’t want the flowers to wilt.”
“Hmm. A charming dilemma.”
She carefully settled the crown back onto her head.
And immediately, Alastor froze.
His nose twitched, once.
Then twice.
Ligeia noticed instantly.
“Alastor?”
He lifted a finger, expression tightening with dignified alarm.
“Hih…”
Another twitch.
“Hh’TSCHH!”
The sneeze burst out sharply into his elbow.
Static crackled from the radio.
Every lamp in the room flickered red for half a second.
The two of them blinked in unison, then his nose wrinkled again.
“Hih… heh… HAH’TSCHHOO!” His next sneeze was uncovered, and much less gentlemanly.
The radio exploded into frantic trumpet music before abruptly dying.
“Oh dear,” he muttered thickly, dabbing at his nose with his pocket handkerchief.
Ligeia stared at him in astonishment.
“Alastor, love...are you allergic to flowers?”
Alastor's chest puffed out a little.
“I most certainly did not used to b—Heh…IH’TSCHH!”
Another sharp sneeze snapped his head aside.
This time the shadows under the furniture jittered violently before settling again.
Ligeia tried, unsuccessfully, not to smile.
Alastor narrowed his eyes immediately.
“You are enjoying this.”
“A little.”
“How cruel," he said with a smirk. “Hihh…tssch!”
He sniffed irritably, rubbing beneath his nose with one clawed finger.
“One of those flowers is absolutely criminal.”
Ligeia slipped the crown off at once.
“Sorry, darling.”
“Hh’EITSCHH!” Alastor sneezed again before he could respond.
For one glorious second, a shower of static-filled sparks burst from the radio speaker.
Ligeia couldn't help it; she burst out laughing.
Alastor stared at her with betrayed dignity while sniffling faintly.
“Oh, now you’re definitely enjoying this.”
“You’re very cute when you’re sneezy," she said, without thinking.
Alastor blinked.
“I have never been described as cute in my life.”
“Well, now you have.”
He tried to maintain his usual composure, but another helpless nose twitch ruined it.
Ligeia took the crown off, leaving it on the other side of the room, before she stepped closer again.
"Alright. Investigation time.”
“A thrilling evening activity.”
“We need to figure out which flower is attacking you.”
Together, they settled at the table beneath the dim golden lights.
Ligeia separated the flowers one by one while Alastor cautiously tested each bloom from what he insisted was a 'perfectly respectable distance'.
