#hell/uva

[maladyinpink]

Hi, longtime lurker here, been writing for a long time but never brave enough to post, but- BUT, I got very inspired by this prompt and ideas by @ghostlychill and @rosieknows , and thought I'd finally come out of the woodwork by spinning a LONG fluffy tale of woe of what, PRAY TELL, could happen after Sins/mas and the New year 🙈🤷‍♀️...so uh, not entirely sure how to do this, nervy as hell 😐...but here goes 🤗 Agh, hope anyone who reads this enjoys.

💗

CW: Snz, Illness, emotional pain/comfort, depictions of depression, loss and my man Sto/las just goin' through it, but Bli/tzø is there every step of the way. Oh! And a few explicit shameless puns 😈...

The Imp and The Owl

A few days after the holiday celebration and passing of the new year in the Pentagram, the apartment, lit by the red morning light, still smelled of stale snacks that'd been left out by those too drunk to finish them. And Stolas, once again, found himself curled-up on the worn-out purple striped couch, talons just barely resting over the side.

During the first couple days, he'd slept, only because he was so exhausted. But since the confrontation at the palace, he'd been up most nights with an old friend that usually went away with medication: Insomnia. And...he'd happened to have been without medication as of late, for a few weeks. As he carelessly rushed out of the house to rescue an imp at the brink of death in Hell's biggest courtroom. And he'd only gotten them back when...Octavia had given them back to him.

Several hours ago, still sluggishly awake in the middle of the night, he'd tried to take a shower. He could barely fit into it, banging his temple on the shower head by standing, settling for sitting in the tub where he cradled his legs close and cried. In theory, the hot water would've potentially helped him fall asleep. Only in fucking theory, apparently.

Now his feathers, wet and wiry, were still air drying, now a muted shade of their former midnight glory and streaked with shocks of grey. And he still tossed and turned under the pony print fleece blankets. Oh well, he'd never got much sleep anyway, even in the palace.

He'd already made peace with himself that some of these things would drive him crazy, and that life without privilege would just take some getting used to. The fact of the matter was that things could've been worse. Blitzø would have died. The image of the axe coming that close to the imps neck still haunted him, the horrified looks of his onlooking family.

He was alive and well though, snoring through the night on a beanbag, surrounded by his horse plushies. Stolas found himself smiling, resisting stroking and pecking the imp's horns to soothe as he babbled a little in his sleep, then he stopped. They'd yet to talk about their embrace at the palace after he'd saved Stolas from the ice hydra. Something real was finally blossoming between them. At what cost? Immense loss and sacrifice.

He'd live amongst the civilian hellborn and sinners, earn a wage to survive, living as a commoner, starting from scratch. Potentially, finally, have a real relationship worth working for. All that, he could endure. But the chance of never seeing his daughter again while she suffered cruel negligence at the hands of Andrealphus and her mother. He wouldn't be there for her birthdays, her holidays. Even just the casual greetings in the morning, he'd taken for granted. And as she approached possible ascension to the throne, she had no real guidance or reassurance, for the next 100 years. Whether she would choose to confide in him about that or anything in the future, remained to be seen. She'd cut him off. It was unbearable. And he knew it was his own fault.

As a parent himself, Blitzø had been trying to reassure Stolas that Octavia didn't hate him, the girl was 17, she needed space and time to process. And unfortunately, he had 100 long years of both. With that ever heavy and present in mind, he did his best with immense difficulty to just physically rise in the morning.

He yawned out a little screech and craned his neck toward the kitchen, hearing rustling through cabinets. Loona seemed to be taking a crack at cooking this morning for a change while Blitzø was showering. He hadn't noticed either of them rise or pass by. Had lack of sleep left him that disoriented? Stolas had yet to smell anything smoky or burning, so it was a good sign. Stolas realized though he couldn't smell much of anything at all.

"Yo..." Loona waved a paw with a spatula, briskly over her shoulder when she'd noticed he was awake. She was never a morning person it seemed.

He'd meant to reply a polite good morning to the hell-hound. But all that came out first through his beak was a chirpy stifled sneeze. 

"Nght-tchoo!"

"Ah, Sorry...G-good morning, Loona, dear." He tried to force out, his voice cracking as his throat felt as though it was filled with stinging nettles. Oh no. 

Loona's ear twitched and she looked over her shoulder as if something occurred to her at the tiny sound, before a tender look crossed her harsh features. She set the spatula down and padded closer to the couch. "Morning...You okay, old man?"

Stolas' laugh came out as a weak cough and he lied to save face. "Y-yes quite alright, I think I'm just...tired...Barely waking is all." Placating came easy.

Loona's eyes narrowed, but she didn't want to push or argue with him, "Right, well we've got a few choices for breakfast, if you don't like eggs... You eat bacon?" she walked back over to the freezer to relay options, "Shit, Looks like we still got-...Toaster doodles? Blitzø fuckin' goes nuts for these...What kind'ya want?"

Stolas forced himself to smile as he read the colorful boxes she held up. Cunnilingonberry CreamPie...Lemon Frottage Cheese...BukCake Batter (Now With More Sprinkles!)...Hard to believe there were more, he could barely pay attention to her mumbling of which one 'didn't totally suck' as his head was pounding.

"I mean, once you get past the weird dick shape-"

"Whatever you're making is fine, dear. I'm sure it'll be delightful." His voice was quiet and trailed off into little stifled coughs into his shoulder that he hoped would not draw any attention. It seemed to have worked for the moment as she hesitated, but turned back to her sizzling bacon with a less than convinced nod.

The sound of the shower shut off, and a moment later, the bathroom door creaked open with steam. Blitzø walked out, in a long sleeve and jeans, still rubbing his horns dry with a towel. He made his way into the kitchen, laying the towel on one of the dining room chairs. And spotting his daughter, he couldn't resist the urge to give her a quick, loving squeeze around her hind leg.

"What the-...Jesus!...Dad!"

"Good Mornin' to you too, Loonie-Toonie! Oop- Look at you, makin' breakfast, how sweet!"

Loona always rolled her eyes at him, it was like muscle memory. She was usually dismissive around the imp's affection, but she couldn't help the brief smirk that tugged up under her snout. Then she nodded towards the couch with a silent look beckoning Blitzø to say something.

Blitzø followed her gaze, immediately noticing the way Stolas held his head in his hand, seemingly spasming with stifled coughs. "Uh…Hey," he said, walking over, to gently approach, "You sleep okay?"

A little startled, Stolas squawked and looked up, feigning a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he looked down, "Oh dear! Um, yes, Good Morning..."

"Shit Stolas...Did you sleep...like at all?"

"I'm fine, Blitzø." Stolas tried to reassure, firmer this time, maybe even a little annoyed.

"...In what universe?"

Blitzø awkwardly winced and sat on the edge of the couch, his eyes wide, reaching toward the owl "...Shit, If I can remember, you fancy fucks run warm anyways, but you look…not great, no offense-...hold up a sec, 'kay?"

"Blitzø, you must understand, I did try!...Nght'ktchht! Ehkkschtt! Shit-...Oh, Heavens, excuse me."

The fight was needless and only made things worse. Stolas winced and shook his head wearily, his eyes closing with relief as he felt the coolness of Blitzø's claws grazing across on his forehead and cheeks.

"Shhh, you're burnin' up like Satan's taint," Blitzø said, his concern etched into his voice. "Let's see what we got in here." He toddled away and disappeared into the bathroom and returned with two thermometers, one standard oral and the other a bit more...intimate, seemingly debating. Stolas deadpanned.

"Sorry...know you're not into that right now," he quipped, holding up the rectal thermometer with a smirk before tossing it aside to grab the oral one, "Alrighty, Stolas, open wide, and I do mean your beak."

Stolas couldn't help but laugh a little, "Ever the charmer," he said, taking the thermometer and popping it into his beak, lisping with his mouth full "You find thish truly necesshary, Blitsh?"

While they waited for the thermometer to beep, Blitzø took extra note of the dark circles under all four eyes "You're definitely comin' down with somethin'," he said, his voice laced with a hint of worry. "Immune system must be shot to shit with everything that's happened."

The triple beep pierced the quiet, and Stolas held up the thermometer, 108.3." I suppose...that's not a good sign."

"Nope," he said, his voice tight, "It's a sign your feathered ass is gonna stay on the couch today."

This earned Blitzø a dramatic, uncharacteristic groan, like a teenager almost. Stolas face planted into the pillow on the couch and croaked out:

"Fuck."  

And it'd been making the imp smile a little every time. Not that he was enjoying Stolas' misery. Not at all. He'd just found he got a cute little kick out of…well, watching the former prince adapt from sudden loss of privilege. He was gradually letting his walls down, and would be informal, sometimes blissfully crass, completely abandoning the posh.

Stolas had never felt so weak before. Not like this. Even in the rare moments he'd fallen ill at the palace. Is this truly what the common cold with a low grade fever felt like to every other lower-station creature? But he supposed the stress and missing his medication for a bit would make everything worse.

"I am so sorry." The wall came back up.

Blitzø's eyes snapped to a rigid Stolas, his smile dropping at the apology. "Stolas?...What the fuck for?"

"For...everything, burdening you with this, I don't want to be a hindrance or worrisome to you, I'm making things especially difficult and I apologize." Stolas mumbled and gave the imp a funny feeling in his chest.

"Hey! Don't you go spoutin' nonsense on me. I mean...Sure, I know things are hard now," Blitzø stated firmly.

"B-but YOU, YOU are NOT difficult, Stolas, and you're not a burden, you're one of us and we take care of our own in this household, ain't that right Loonie?" Loona made a short affirmative noise in the kitchen, bringing with her, her plate of bacon and another full of…frankly phallic looking pastries, but otherwise sugary and delectable. And Stolas was…famished. The hell-hound put it on the coffee table in front of the pair.

"Uh...the ones with Sprinkles always make me feel better or whatever." Blitzø looked touched as he recognized his usually withdrawn daughter was trying to be warm.

"Huh…Um, thank you, Loona." Stolas murmured, his four eyes lighting up slightly.

"Thank you, Sweetie...Could ya do one more thing for your Dad and call M&M?...while I take care of this one?...Just tell 'em I'm takin' the day. I know we've been busy, but Mox can handle the paperwork."

Loona nodded and disappeared into her bedroom with her phone and her breakfast. Stolas' feathers fluffed in protest at the thought of Blitzø missing out on valuable clients…for him? Absolutely not. Preposterous.

"Oh! Wait, no! It's quite alright. You don't have to do that," Stolas babbled, trying to push himself upright with a grimace. "I'm really not worth upheaving an entire day, don't be ridiculous, truly I can manage, really, I ju-....I- Ah fucki-...Nght'tchiew!...Oh Lucife-...EEHk'hoo!…IIIdht'hoo!...HIH'Itsh'tchiew!"

The protest ended with another long fit of hooty sneezes that got harsher as they came out. The imp rubbed the Goetia's back as he was a little incapacitated at the moment.

"Stolas Liste-...Uh, Bless you...Listen, I just want to take care a ya, s'that shit hard to believe?" Blitzø started with a gentle rub on Stolas' shoulder.

Stolas paused with a telling look, until another sneeze bent him in half. "Ehh'Krrt'chiew!"

Blitzø spoke gently as Stolas continued to sneeze, unlike his usual punchy tamber, "That's...That's fair, Bless you, Look, it's no trouble, you're obviously not fine...Jesus, Bless you!...Um- Bless you. You're kinda just proving my point here. So, I recommend no more bullshittin', and just...Bless you- taking it easy. Just lay back, relax…"

"Heh…Dhhh…EHD'RRTCH'schiew!- Lords!" 

"Christ on a stick, Bless you! That was a big one! 

"-Jtsh'hiew!...Ekk'krrtch'hoo!"

"Oh my Sat- Would ya just-... lemme finish?"

He looked up at Stolas who stood adorably shaking like a cartoon character, wide-eyed with a finger under his beak to curb the bursts.

"Ack, Sorry...I'm no doctor, but you've got a cold. I'm sure we got some decongestant round here somewhere, we'll just have ya chug that and lay about awhile and watch shitty TV...Sound doable?"

Stolas nodded weakly and looked over to a tissue box on the end table that the imp hastily grabbed and held up, "Oop- Yeah, here, blow your beak...You are soundin' real stuffy."

After a few more sniffles, Stolas managed to clear his throat and sit up, seemingly trying to regain composure, his feathers ruffled. "No shit, Ack-...Sorry, thank you..." he corrected himself.

"No problem, you're sick, you're allowed to bitch a little." Blitzø quipped, he didn't seem to mind and stood up and walked over to the kitchen counter. He grabbed a mug and started filling it with water, "How's about some tea?"

"Do you...have tea?"

Blitzø rolled his eyes, "Well, nothin' fancy...I'm sure Loona won't mind if we have some of her Chai, sharing is caring and all that jazz."

Stolas nodded, blushing at the gesture. "Hm, Lovely."

Blitzø gave a nod, "Dig in, don't hold back on my account...those CreamPie doodles are the shit! Save a couple for me, 'kay?"

He smiled as he set a beat up kettle on the stove and fiddled with a box of teabags. Stolas, eyes suddenly curious and childlike at the Toaster Doodles, took a hesitant bite of flaky sugar-kissed goodness and found they were… heavenly.

"Mmm!"

Loona emerged from her room and pawed a pastry from the plate, her phone in her other paw to her ear, "...Well, he says to just deal with it and-...Okay, okay! Jesus! Bitch, I got it!...Uh, sorry, yeah...Yeah, that'd be nice actually, thanks...I'll tell 'em, yeah…Alright, thanks, I'll be there soon."

She hung up and announced, "Moxxie says he'll swing by with soup later, says they'll take care of the next client...It should be an easy hit, but Millie sounded…kinda tired?...So I said I'd go with 'em as back up on this one...that okay?"

Blitzø nodded as he put the kettle on, "Initiative is always okay in my book, Baby! I owe ya one...just be safe? An' tell Moxxie, I'll beat his ass if he skips the paperwork? Take your knives. Ya got the crystal?"

Loona rolled her eyes, "Yeah yeah, Dad, I got it…Might go out later, I'll text ya." She bit into the pastry in her paw, wincing at the sound of Stolas' coughing on his own from the living room. She swallowed and whispered, "Take care of him, okay?"

"We'll be fine...love you." Blitzø promised, scampering up her shoulder to plant a kiss on her forehead before she could protest and jumping down before she dashed out the door.

Stolas was wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, noticing that his vision was blurred. He hadn't even realized he'd started crying...again. It'd been happening off and on, sporadically without much control. The possibility that Octavia would never want to see him again. He wished to kiss Via's forehead again, share tea and pastries with her, tell her to have a good day on a mundane morning. His brave Starfire.

"Heeere ya go," Blitzø said, handing over a steaming mug of tea and sat down next to Stolas with his own.

Stolas took the mug with a nod, he took a tentative sip, letting the warm liquid soothe his throat. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice quiet.

Blitzø's expression softened and he seemed to notice the depressed bird needed a distraction, his eyes flicking to the TV. "Alright, let's get to the good shit," He suggested, picking up the remote and flipping through the channels. "Ah, new season of Hell-A-Novela just came out...or we could watch-"

Still teary, the owl took another depressed bite of a third Toaster Doodle to medicate the pain with sugar, as he sighed with a watery smile,  "I don't find I really care right now what we-" He swallowed,

"...Y-You watch Hell-A-Novela?" Seems you learned new things everyday, that could be added on the list under the imp's horse obsession.

Blitzø shrugged, and Stolas' eyes widened in surprise, "How could I not, the main character is an Alejandro, he doesn't deserve that fake bitch Gabriella though...I'm hopin' she has a twin sister or one of them gets amnesia, so they can quit this will-they/won't-they shtick." Flipping through the streaming platforms and titles, Ka-tHulu, Voxflix, Azathoth Prime, LooLoo+.

"...On the contrary, I found her flawed character arc refreshing, and very...relatable...I liked her."

Blitzø turned to look at Stolas, knowing he'd started to win him over, with a Rainbow sprinkled doodle in his mouth, he rolled his eyes and countered, "Really? Stols c'mon...she fuckin' threw herself at him, after 2 seasons, they still aren't together?"

Stolas hesitated, "Well...perhaps it is a slow burn...annoying at times, but that is the point, yes? The pathos and stakes, keeps one watching." He rubbed his eyes, sipped his tea and finished a lemony pastry.

Blitzø chuckled, and waved Stolas off, "Eh, I wouldn't go that far for this shit. Sometimes, I just want to see a fuckin' steamy ass scene, just you know, to keep me...inspired."

"I rather think you're very... inspired...sometimes."

Stolas managed a tiny, cheeky smirk, taking another sip of his tea. Blitzø was next to him, scrolling through the channels with a knowing smile and a shake of his head. The bird-brain still managed to stroke his ego and still had a sense of humor about him in this sorry state.

"Okay…C'mere, you! Pick somethin'!" The imp surprised Stolas by opening his arm and beckoning for him to scoot closer to come cuddle, still looking at the TV.

Both of them stiffened for a moment, Stolas was unsure if he'd misread the signal and when Blitzø saw how nervous the owl looked, the feeling was contagious. Tentatively, Stolas shuffled closer. They'd both been far more intimate than this before. What was the problem? He let out a small, awkward chirp as he leaned into Blitzø's side, and found himself nuzzling his beak into the crook of the imp's neck just under his horns. He pulled away to glance up, letting out a nervous laugh that unfortunately was sounding quite congested. And looking up, he found Blitzø was blushing as well, quite fiercely.

"Was that...I am sorry, is it quite alright if I-"

"-Uh, I'm fine if you're fine. Shit's fine, we're both f-fine." Blitzø pacified, but sounded a little uncertain himself, cutting off Stolas' words. He took the mug of tea out of Stolas' hand, placing it safely on the coaster, before he gently wrapped his arms around the Owl and raked his claws across his back. Stolas felt like he was going to burn up any moment, mostly from the raging blush in his cheeks, nevermind the fever. The imp's tail snaked around his frame and pulled him in closer, nestling Stolas' head against his chest.

"Just uh…lemme take care of ya." He whispered, pressing a kiss on top of Stolas' head.

"Thank you, darling" he melted out, the warmth of the blanket and Blitzø's embrace helping him to relax slightly. Blitzø reached up and pulled down the horse-shoe throw blanket to cover the Bird's lanky frame. It didn't quite cover his legs, but Stolas didn't care.

Just as he was getting comfortable, his beak twitched. "Oh no...F-forgive me-" He tensed, trying to hold it in, but it was a losing battle. He buried his face near the Imp's neck, his sneezes stifled.

"Nght-krtchht! Nght'ktchht'chieew!...Ugh, Pardon mbe," Stolas pulled away, beak now thoroughly congested.

"You're fine," Blitzø said, smiling warmly and rubbing his back. "Never thought I'd serve as the royal snotrag, kind of a downgrade to be honest." he joked, his eyes glinting with affection.

Stolas' eyes widened as another sneeze built up. His neck fluffed and looked like he was about to apologize again, but could only squawk. Blitzø just chuckled and held him closer. "Jesus Stols, I'm kidding...don't worry 'bout it," he cooed. "Oop- got a few more in there, don't'cha?...Just let 'em out."

"HEHDH'ECK'hooo!..."

And so Stolas did, a much louder sneeze muffled into his fist behind Blitzø's shoulder, his body shaking. The imp didn't even flinch, just held him tighter and rubbed his back in comforting circles. "Yeesh, Bless you!...Big sneeze!" he soothed again.

Stolas nodded and felt his face heat up even more as he pulled away, his eyes watering. He sniffled and reached for the tissue box on the coffee table.

"I'b so sohhrry, I did't...mbean to...to!-EDH'ECK'Hiieew...EH'rrst'chiew!..Ehh....Oh mby..." Stolas' beak was now buried in a tissue, honking out a miserable blow.

"There ya go...Ya still alive?"

Blitzø's voice was a comforting hum. He nodded and melted back into the groove of Blitzø's neck, feeling utterly pathetic and exhausted. Any preconceived notions about being too forward or keeping distance were out the window.

"Unfortunately."

"Hell-A-Novela?"

"Mm." A tiny affirmative noise was all he got.

"Tch, okay, I gotcha…" Blitzø assured him, his arms tightening around Stolas' shoulders, wanting to keep him close and warm.

The TV played on in the background for a while, the sound of dramatic soap opera dialogue and occasional moans of passion piercing through the quiet of the apartment. He'd periodically look down to check in and from what Blitzø could see, Stolas had relaxed, his top two eyes drooping. The sound of the imp's pounding heart beat against his cheek and lulled the owl like a metronome. Soon, the weight against his chest went slack and Blitzø knew he was out. 

Shit. It would take a lot of time and patience to heal and grow from these changes. He'd never in his wildest fantasies imagined a Prince of the Ars Goetia would give up everything for a lowly imp in the name of love. He hadn't wished for Stolas to lose so much. He knew it was selfish, but Blitzø was grateful for the changes. Things were far from perfect. They could find solace in this shit situation…together. He would be there through the pain as long as Stolas would let him. He wished he could take away Stolas' pain in an instant. The best he could do was rock the man back and forth in his arms and hope it would aid in some way. The imp remembered a time when Tilla had held both Barbie and Blitzø to her chest even as they got older and rocked them to sleep. It seemed to have helped in some way, as he heard soft hoots. He kissed his forehead before turning down the volume on the TV. 

A few hours of scrolling and Hell-A-Novela episodes later, Moxxie came knocking with a thermos of soup, his eyes immediately going to the sleeping form on the couch and then back to Blitzø, raising a brow. "Hey, relax! I'M behaving...The poor guy is sick."

Moxxie, raised a hand in defense, and hesitated. "I didn't say anything!...I was just thinking, maybe something's going around, Sir! I mean, sure the job went off without a hitch, started working with a few of the interns today, and Millie sends her love, she wanted to come by too, but uh…she didn't seem to be feeling well today either. Hasn't been feeling herself all week actually, s'why I…made the soup…"

" D'Aww, what a trooper…knowin' Mill's, she and Loona probably did most of the work."

Moxie got a dreamy look in his eyes, "That's my girl, strong and diligent an-... Hey!"

"Shhh, yeah yeah, dipshit, I know, you're the best shot...but only because the girls're using knives!" Moxxie rolled his eyes fondly as the insult had no real bite.

Blitzø smiled and asked about the client, the local and how the hit carried out. Business had been booming. Feeling bad that Millie had had to power through, he'd have them take a few days off while he and Loona would return to the office and handle more with the new interns they'd decided to take on.

They bantered a little about Moxxie begrudgingly tackling the paperwork for the day. They'd set up Stolas answering the phone and handling the filing and it seemed it would be very efficient and a good outlet when he actively plugged himself in. This recent development, however, would be a minor setback.

Hearing the chatter, Stolas' eyes fluttered open, the room still spinning a bit. He coughed, signalling he was awake and Blitzø's heart sank. Both imps looked down at the sad sight.

"Sorry, Stolas...Shit. Just go back to sleep."

"Crumbs, I am so sorry, your highness, we didn't mean to wake you..." Moxie gave a nervous little wave.

"Oh nonsense, don't trouble yourself at all...I-I'm perfehh-Ed'dhkk'hieew!...Ehhd'rtch'hoo!...Ihht'rtch'hoo!....Ihhkk'tchiew!...Hih..hih-...HEH'rrrtch'chieew!...Eh-Excuse mbe...Oww." Stolas painfully finished, rubbing at bridge of his beak.

"Oh, Bless you!" Moxxie piped up.

"Jesus, Stols, take it easy." It was a sympathetic coo, not a scolding.

"...I'mb okay." Stolas sniffled back thickly and waved him off. He nuzzled back into the burrito of blankets, his blushing beak covered. Blitzø smiled at the four cute tired eyes peaking out.

"Look what our pal Moxxie brought ya!" Blitzø jiggled the steaming thermos in his hand.

"Old family recipe, your highness! Fra Diovolo Pastina! Very hearty and chock full of vitamins and minerals!" Moxxie smiled proudly, but held up an advisory finger, "But, just a warning, it's got a little kick to it, your sinuses will thank you later!"

All Stolas' red glowing eyes stared slowly at the rambly imp and dumbly blinked one at a time from behind the blanket. He hooted out a little sound...and didn't seem to respond beyond...that.

"Uh, S-Stolas?"

"-Oh yes, Splendid...thadk you, Pringles."

Moxxie grimaced, "...What?"

Blitzø cursed and whispered to Moxxie that the fever was probably getting worse. The other imp left with a "Get well soon, your Highness!" Getting Moxx to address him as anything less formal was probably futile. He thanked him for the soup and told him to get home to the Mrs, sending his love, hugs and get well messages to Millie.  

"B-Beta Orionis, P-Pleiades, Castor, Pollux...I-I can't see any of them." 

"Hm?...Whatcha say?...Oh shit, Stolas?!" Blitzø turned back around from the front door to the couch. A blanketed figure now kneeled at the glass balcony door, looking up. Blitzø did his best to approach slowly so as to not spook Stolas who now seemed to be slumped in a kneeling heap, in a panicky feverish trance. He looked up to see all four of Stolas' bright red eyes were wide with tears and aimed toward the sky, hand on the cold glass door.

"Shit...Hey, Pretty Bird, what's goin' on?" Blitzø felt Stolas' cheek. He was burning with fever.

"So c-cold an'…dark and quiet, m'so lost…I can't s-see them anymore, the stars." Stolas slurred and trembled, and looked to Blitzø for answers, "So alone, and SHE-...she's so alone. I-I can't see…I can't see…her. Why can't I see her?..." 

Blitzø sighed sadly, and through his love, words started to come. He wasn't sure they were the right words, but he had to try, "Goddammit…Y-you will, Stolas…Fuck, I can't promise when. I wish I could. This kinda thing hurts like a bitch. S'real shitty, but you're not alone. You keep tryin' and lovin' her no matter what shit happens and overtime…well, she's gonna grow, and someday, she'll realize the shit she's lost, how much good she's lost, losin' you…For now? Octavia is right here…and here." A claw tapped at Stolas' forehead, and rested at Stolas' feathery chest. Via was in his thoughts and in his heart. 

The assassin did his best not to panic as he wasn't sure Stolas could even comprehend anything he'd just said. He put a hand on Stolas' leg to stroke up and down. Stolas moaned and coughed roughly, a croupy raspy sound in his chest.

"Hey…yeah, you're really not okay…" Blitzø said gently as he helped Stolas crawl back over to the couch, placing a pillow behind him. He took a tissue and rubbed away the tears under each eye. 

"...But, you will be okay." At that comment, he swore could see a flicker in the owl's eyes… then the man squawked. The fever had definitely risen at least 3 degrees.

Blitzø grabbed the spoon and thermos, "Now, let's get some of this hot goodness down ya."

Stolas took a cautious sip, the spicy warmth spreading through his beak and down his throat. "There ya go, bird-brain," he encouraged, holding the spoon filled with steaming soup to the owl's beak. Stolas pushed the spoon away.

"Hehht'itchht!...Krrt'chiew!...Ah! Mms- S'wonderful, darling." He slurred and nodded, giving the imp an affirmative look to continue.

Blitzø's heart felt tight, he hadn't heard that nickname in a long while, maybe he was doing something right for once, "Alrighty, then."

Soon after the soup came the after effects of the cayenne, the runny beak and more sneezes. But after he'd blown out a majority of the congestion, Stolas could breathe a little better. After searching in the bathroom, Blitzø had found the bottle of berry flavored Belpha-GOO decongestant and some additional extra strength fever reducer. The problem was that it was a fever reducer…for imps. Welp, Shit. 

Given that his patient had a much taller 9 foot stature and the fact that this was made for much smaller creatures, he could only guess how much to give to Stolas. If Stolas was nearly triple his height, and Blitzø usually only had to take 1 pill, would 3 pills be enough, or too much? And the guy took antidepressants…FUCK. Was it even safe for him to take this? That was a whole other pile of shit. The math was not math-ing. Blitzø stopped agonizing and figured Stolas probably wouldn't die if he took 3 and a cap of the decongestant. He'd possibly just be a little loopy. He was already loopy. 

"Eh, fuck you for being tall, y'big lug." Blitzø rubbed Stolas' shoulder affectionately.

Soon worn-out, they'd both fallen asleep, missing as Gabriella and Alejandro finally embraced with a ridiculously slobbery french kiss onscreen. It didn't matter, the imp and the owl were in a slumbering embrace of their own. And, Loona, when she arrived home later that night, would never admit that she smiled as she'd found the both of them cuddled together underneath the blankets.

Loona glanced at the vandalized memories on the wall that Blitzø had long since scribbled over in self-hatred. And she thought of the picture of IMP's first mission that she'd kept hidden in her bedroom. With that, she took out her phone, and snapped a photo of the snoring couple under the blue TV light. A happy memory. 

She turned off the TV and walked around to the back of the couch to head toward her bedroom. It'd been a long day, but she hesitated. She'd never been good at attachment or affection, but a lot of things seemed to be changing. So she took a deep breath, turned around and briefly nuzzled against Blitzø's horns as he snored and kissed her dad's forehead. She turned once again to go to bed, but she found herself stopping once more, turning around and planting another kiss. This time on Stolas' forehead. 

"...Thank you, Loona." She heard as she finally turned and pawed at the doorknob of her room. She saw four red eyes blinking sleepily at her in the dark.

"For what? You didn't see dick, just go to sleep." Loona heard Stolas' croaky chuckles in response as she opened the door to her bedroom.

"Uh...Thank you."

"...For what, dear one?"

The hell-hound tried to think of the best way to express her thanks. There weren't enough words to say how fucking grateful she was. He'd given up so much for them, saved her Dad's life and made him happier than she'd seen in a long time. She opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a hooty snore. She smiled as she glanced at the couple through the door, before she headed to bed.

"Nah…I think you already know."

[sweetlysniffly]

GORGEOUS IDEA!

Bl/itz was looking around in the book Sto//las was writing in since he left it the IMP office at his desk. He’s curious, so he starts reading. And there’s a section he can’t quite understand. Blitz is reading lines like “goosebumps traveled across his skin as he watched the rogue’s nostril flutter and felt his breath hitch on his neck” and “as he felt the mist spray his shoulder, he shuddered, barely managing to reply in a breathless bless you” and asks himself: is this a smut scene about sneezing?”

Stolas comes back in the room, realizing he’s left his journal behind, catching Blitz reading his work.

He’s mortified.

Blitz tries to ask him about it, but before he can, Stolas snatches the book back with the flushed warm cheeks. Blitz thinks that’s odd, since they’ve pretty much been the freakiest sexual partnership he’s ever had, why would he be bashful about written smut?!? The stuff he reads openly all the time???

And then it clicks. Is…Stolas into sneezing? He’ll have to test that theory. And now he’s got the perfect reference sheet…

[sickficsaturn]

snz headcanons for a hel/la/verse character(s) of your choice

~ Effy

Thank you so much for the ask!

Cracks knuckles

It’s hard to choose any of them, so I’ll begin with brief bullet points for the mains and if you’d like a deeper dive of any, let me know

He//uva:

Blitz:

-Sneezes punctuated by silly little swears and quips.

-Loud, spread out singles.

-pure denial mode over any allergies or illness. Will hold this stance to his final breath (exaggerating, but only slightly).

-Stolas’ feathers get to him sometimes!

Stolas:

-rapid multiples, at the mercy of his beak.

-chronic stifler

-super polite, embarrassed of his sneezes.

-pretty celestial themed handkerchiefs!

-Sad, wet cat of a man who plays up any minor inconvenience for Blitz’s attention, but recluses when something is genuinely off.

Millie:

-I…I want her to have the kink.

-unapologetic sneezer, often into her hands or just bent at the hip/aimed at the ground.

-not one to enjoy being cared for when ill, but if Moxxie insists, she appreciates the attention from him.

Moxxie:

-for some reason, I see him doing an occasional, accidental scream-sneeze. This embarrasses him greatly. Millie thinks it’s cute and funny ❤️

-Definitely melodramatic when ill, just a disaster of a man, but Millie is more than happy to take care of her hubby!

Loona:

-Sneezes often due to her sensitive snout.

-Either loud and abrasive (sometimes exaggerated just to startle certain people…ahem…Moxxie.) or nearly silent due to her upbringing- don’t show weakness.

-I associate the term “snot-nosed” with being an edgy/bratty/‘punk’ type, so, messy, even on a normal day.

Haz//bin:

Charlie:

-I adore others’ headcannon that her magic malfunctions when she sneezes, causing embarrassing mishaps that she always overapologizes for.

-Couldn’t survive a cold without Vaggie doting on her (Well, of course she could, but…she wouldn’t want to!)

Vaggie:

-louder vocalization on the inhale compared to the sneeze itself. Like “HUH-ksssh!”

-All around strong, including her immune system. However, how the mighty fall, if she’s ill it’s always a devastating chill, nothing small.

Angel:

-gotta lotta fluff ta muffle things into! Coughs? Sneezes? Built-in silencers.

-curls in on himself as he sneezes (a la dead spider.)

-makeup is his best friend to hide symptoms of a cold best he can (though with excessively watery eyes, goodbye eyeliner)!

Alastor:

-I agree with the fandom’s headcannons of having an electric-sounding sneeze and despising sneezing as a whole. It’s a sign of weakness to him, after all.

-photic

Husk:

-DAD SNEEZES.

-recluses when sick, literally hides.

Pentious:

-his hair/hood opens up fully during each sneeze.

-overly polite, doesn’t want to be a bother in any way.

Apologies for taking so long with this response

If there’s anyone who isn’t here that you’d like me to post about, my asks are open!

[mxbluemarine]

Oh great the one reaction YouTuber I watched ends up being a fucking viv/ziepop apologist how will I ever eat my dinner now

[twisted-lilies]

Hazy

Something’s wrong and he’s hoping it’s not what he’s thinking it is.

Asmodeus is out on an important meeting (but honestly, Fizzarolli thinks everything Asmodeus does is important) and he won’t be back until later that day. The last thing Fizz would want to do is call him and ruin the meeting. Besides, his stomach is just a little bit upset. He’ll be fine.

It must be something he ate. He doesn’t exactly have the best diet, so that’s very possible. But something about the way his head is starting to feel fuzzy is making him think otherwise.

Worrying about it isn’t doing any good, if anything it’s only making his stomach more upset, but he’s all alone with just his thoughts. What else is he supposed to do?

Lying in bed, he thinks about Ozzie’s strong arms carrying him, his smooth voice soothing the mounting pressure in Fizz’s head. All he wants right now is to be held in his arms so he doesn’t have to worry about a thing. The only time he’s ever felt truly safe is with Asmodeus.

Even then, Fizz isn’t sure he deserves that.

Not only did the fire leave him with a myriad of health issues, some that were resolved within months and some that affect him to this day, but it also damaged his view of himself. The fear, the panic, the insecurity. All of that, he carries with him to this day, made worse by his deal with Mammon.

Admitting weakness is not something Fizz is accustomed to. Not only is he constantly putting on a figurative mask in front of all of Hell and therefore has to be the best version of himself at all times, but the pressure he puts on himself to be perfect is another issue entirely. Asmodeus has told him to his face that it isn’t healthy, but it’s so ingrained in him that he doesn’t know how to stop.

Even in times like these where Fizz should probably definitely be getting some help right now, he doesn’t know if he has it in him to admit just how badly he’s feeling. What would the world think if they saw him like this? What would Asmodeus think?

He’d probably be completely disgusted. He would never want to touch Fizz again if he saw the state he’s in now, sweaty with a slightly ashen complexion.

Earlier this morning, Fizz tried his best to start the day like normal. He got his costume on and began putting on his makeup when he was overcome with a wave of nausea that made him stop in his tracks. He covered his mouth, meekly hoping he wouldn’t vomit on the spot, but thankfully that feeling passed as soon as it came. Strange.

It was when he began practicing his routines that he began to feel worse and worse. He started growing shaky and unusually tired even though he had gotten a surprisingly good amount of sleep the night before. Then, the cold sweats began, followed by the chills that crawl up his spine like spiders.

The nausea was the worst. Every time he thought he was in the clear, it would creep up on him again and leave him nearly gagging but never enough to actually vomit. It was terrible.

Practicing made everything worse. Right after he finished, his stomach began to churn ominously. “Please don’t throw up, please don’t throw up,” he silently begged.

But it was no use. With a gag, he could feel bile pooling in his throat. Fuck, he thought to himself, I need to get to the bathroom. He barely managed to make it in time to vomit right into the sink, clutching onto the sides to stabilize himself.

Fizzarolli retched again, the effort hurting his already-sore throat in the process, bringing up even more stomach acid. Part of him wished Asmodeus were here to offer soothing words and comforting rubs on the back, but another part fears he would be disgusted and never want anything to do with him ever again.

He looked at himself in the mirror and winced at the sight of his pale face with fever-flushed cheeks. He looked absolutely terrible. How could Asmodeus ever love him when he looks like this? How could the embodiment of lust itself ever want him?

And now, Fizzarolli lay in his bed, having thrown up at least three times now (that he can remember through the haze of his fever). The last time was mostly just bile at that point, his body having nothing left in it yet remaining intent on expelling every last bit.

He managed to drink some water, but even that feels like it’s about to come up again at any moment if the uneasy way it’s settling in his stomach is anything to go by.

Yeah, no, it’s definitely coming up again.

Fizz covers his mouth with a hand as he silently gags, trying to get himself out of bed in time to make it to the toilet for the millionth time that day (or at least it feels like it). His stomach is killing him.

He’s puking up the small amount of water he drank earlier when he hears the front door open and his heart stops in his chest. That must be Ozzie. But he can’t be here! Not when Fizz is like this! He has to lock the door or go back to the bedroom or something—

The anxiety makes his stomach cramp and he’s sent retching over the toilet once again. That’s when the bathroom door opens and a deep voice asks, “Fizzy, are you okay?”

The voice sounds concerned, caring almost. He knows it’s Asmodeus’, but it can’t be. He should be disgusted with him, ashamed that his best performer isn’t performing up to par. He should throw him away, not place a gentle hand on his back. Not break off a piece of toilet paper to wipe around his mouth. Not be concerned about whether he’s okay.

“I-I’m fine,” Fizzarolli tries to say as convincingly as possible, though that backfires when his voice cracks from how sore his throat is. “I just…must’ve eaten something bad. I’m really sorry, Ozzie.”

“There’s no need to apologize, my dear,” Asmodeus says with that charming voice of his. For a moment, it makes him feel cared about. “It’s obvious you aren’t feeling well. Tell me, how many times have you gotten sick today?”

Fizzarolli winces because he knows Asmodeus won’t like the answer, but he responds nonetheless with, “I think this is the fourth time.” His face feels hot and he isn’t sure if that’s just from the fever anymore.

Asmodeus makes a disappointed noise that almost brings tears to Fizz’s eyes. Of course he would be disappointed in him. After the first time, he should have gotten it under control. If he was really strong, there wouldn’t have even been a first time. “Have you had anything to eat or drink? Anything at all?”

He sounds hopeful and Fizzarolli doesn’t want to destroy that hope, so he responds, “I drank a little bit of water earlier, but…” It’s self-explanatory, so he doesn’t feel the need to spell it out for him. “I’m sorry.”

“What did I say about apologizing?” Asmodeus asks. “I’m glad you tried to drink some water, at least. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Asmodeus’ strong arms wrap around him and he allows himself to relax for a moment, just thinking about how much he loves his partner. Neither of them have said the big “L-word” yet, but Fizz knows he feels love for Ozzie whether the sin of lust reciprocates it or not. Just thinking about confessing makes his stomach hurt, so he chooses not to dwell too much on it.

Asmodeus lies him down on the bed and places a cool towel on his forehead. “This should help with your fever,” he says, which confirms Fizz’s suspicion about having a temperature. That also confirms that he’s sick and it’s not just something he ate, which strangely makes him feel worse. Being sick means recovering, and recovering means not being perfect.

“How’re you feeling?” the man asks, which snaps Fizzarolli out of it. “If there’s anything I can do to help you feel better, please let me know. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.” He plants a kiss on Fizz’s too-hot forehead, which makes him blush even through the fever.

“I’m okay,” Fizzarolli says, which is mostly true. He’s not in any pain at the moment besides a dull throbbing in both his stomach and his head, for which he considers himself lucky. “I’m just…really tired.” He tries to hold back a yawn, but he doesn’t succeed.

“How about you get some rest then, hm?” Asmodeus asks, though he already begins making the room more suitable for taking a nap. “I wish I could stay longer, but I have some work I need to finish up before tomorrow. Do you think you’ll be alright on your own?”

Fizzarolli doesn’t really think so, but he nods anyway, humming affirmatively. “You go, I’ll be fine.” He doesn’t know exactly how true that statement is, but he doesn’t want to hold Ozzie back from his work, especially if it’s something important enough to warrant a deadline. He’ll just try to sleep it off.

“Good,” Asmodeus says, kissing his too-hot forehead. “I’ll be finished by the time you wake up, I promise.” He turns the lights off, wishes him a good rest, and leaves.

Fizz is able to drift off into a restless sleep, one that has him tossing and turning, questioning what parts are real and what are his fever-muddled mind’s way of torturing him. He’s too hot, way too hot, and it’s all too familiar.

He first feels the smoke entering his lungs, followed by the flames licking every surface of his body. It’s hot, way too hot, and he needs to get out—

Waking with a start, Fizzarolli struggles to catch his breath as he takes in his surroundings. It’s his and Asmodeus’ bedroom, the familiar scent of the sheets grounding him. He almost forgets the way his lungs were filled with smoke only moments earlier. He actually feels like he can breathe again.

“I brought you some food,” Asmodeus’ familiar voice says, bringing him back to reality. How long was he asleep for? It somehow felt simultaneously like seconds and years. “I need you to try to eat a little bit, even if it’s not much. You need some food on your stomach.”

He isn’t really sure if food is going to agree with him right now, but it looks like a simple soup with crackers and water. If he’s going to be able to stomach anything, it would be this. “Thanks,” Fizzarolli says, albeit warily.

He eyes the soup and decides to take a spoonful. It’s really good, the flavors light enough to not upset his stomach but rich enough to add depth to the dish. Asmodeus is a surprisingly good chef, if he actually made this himself. It warms him in a way that isn’t unwelcome right now, though he isn’t sure how his fever is doing since before he fell asleep.

“Do you think I still have a fever?” he decides to ask, perhaps against his better judgement. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the fever he probably has, but he wouldn’t normally be so bold and ask Asmodeus a question that addresses his weakness. He would normally keep it under tight wraps, not wanting to come across as anything less than perfect. That applies to everyone, but maybe the rules can be bent when it comes to Asmodeus.

Asmodeus uses a hand to feel Fizzarolli’s forehead. The imp momentarily relaxes, leaning into the sin’s cool touch. “You still feel really warm,” he responds. “I don’t think your fever’s broken yet. Let’s give it another day and if it hasn’t gone down by then, we’ll take you to see a doctor.”

The thought of seeing a doctor fills Fizzarolli with a feeling akin to both dread and…something else that he’s decided to keep buried deep, deep down. Asmodeus actually cares about him that much? That he would take Fizz to the doctor’s out of genuine concern for his wellbeing? It’s almost impossible. If he were any more alert right now, he might dismiss the notion entirely. But something about being this vulnerable and so desperately wanting to be cared for makes him want to believe it’s true.

A funny feeling arises in his gut, one that he thinks is…hope? That is, until he vomits all of the soup he’s just eaten directly onto the sheets of the bed. Asmodeus jumps a bit in surprise, but he remains by Fizzarolli’s side nonetheless. “It’s alright,” he says, “just let it out.”

He brings up another wave of undigested soup, his face heating in humiliation. He’s just vomited directly onto the sheets, making a complete mess of everything. And he’s wasted the meal Ozzie made specially for him. Tears spring to his eyes.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he says, sounding genuinely concerned. Either Fizzarolli has completely lost his ability to tell when someone’s fucking with him, or he’s actually being cared about right now. He isn’t sure which one is scarier. “We’ll get this cleaned up. I’m very sorry, the soup must have been too much.”

But the soup was delicious, is what he wants to say, but all that comes out is a noise somewhere between a hiccup and a cough, his pained throat finally catching up to him.

“Shh, rest your voice,” Asmodeus says. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll get rid of the sheets, you stay here. I’ll be right back, my love.”

My love…?

Fizzarolli’s heart swells, hoping that this isn’t just the fever getting so bad it’s making him hallucinate. Did he hear that right?

Asmodeus loves him?

[stuffdtothemaxx]

I’ve watched Haz//bin Ho//tel + Hell//uva Bo//ss over the last few weeks and there’s a few characters that I think would be fun to fatten up:

Luc//ifer: Someone love this man unconditionally and give him all the best that hell has to offer!! He deserves it!!

Ad//am: listen the first time we meet this bitch he’s going down on some ribs (haha get it cuz E//ve was made from his rib) and he just looks like he has a gut yknow. And he’d be so bossy about it too

V//ox: I think it would be so poetic if his perfect appearance was very slowly ruined but he doesn’t care and simply hypnotizes people to see the ideal version of him

Sto//las: HE NEEDS LOVE OKAY. I WANNA SEE HIM OVERDO IT WHILE WATCHING A SOAP OPERA

Bli//tzø: dude has so much trauma and he needs to be loved and cared for okay

[sludgekludge]

seeing the idea that haz/bin and hell/uva should've taken place in an alternate universe instead of being connected canon and honestly i'm not sure i disagree now. i do wonder how much stuff they've locked themselves entirely out of using in both shows because of legal issues. its already kind of noticeable + not super thrilled with the idea that in order to fully understand the lore there's 2 shows you'd have to consume that aren't allowed to directly refer to each other

[jojea]

spotify wrapped babey!

[maladyinpink]

Morning Sickness -

Hell/uva Boss -

Alrighty y'all, thank you to everyone in the community that's responded and shared with such sweet and welcoming feedback. 🥺💕

Excited to share with you, the sister fic to TIATO (The Imp and The Owl), and the first part of the sick!Millie and caretaker!Moxxie fic, written for @sweetlysniffly for this post. Thank you for the inspo!

Morning Sickness: Takes place directly after Sins/Mas and just before TIATO. At the holiday party, Mill/ie does her best to stay strong and push through after seeing that life-changing test. Under the pressure and having been out in the freezing temperatures, she catches a nasty cold. Moxx/ie, knowing something is wrong, handles the situation carefully and dotes on his wife.

CW: Snz, Illness, Emotional pain/comfort, themes of deep anxiety, brief mentions of vomit (the character is pregnant), mentions of child maltreatment. I swear it gets fluffy guys, BUT these characters canonically are going through the ringer. Everyone's walls are coming down...Oh...And MORE puns 😈💗 enjoy!

"OH, look at that, you just landed on my tower...again! Pay up, bitches!"

The group had been playing Mammonopoly for the past few hours and a collective but good-natured groan released around the table as Blitzø's piece landed on Loona's space for…the umpteenth time. She drunkenly laughed and raked in the pastel-colored bills that everyone shoved forward and took another shot.

"Might I say, it doesn't seem fair that all of the players have to pay when only one person lands on a property?" Stolas, sitting up on the couch, had leaned to whisper over Blitzø's shoulder. After the pair had made their way back inside from the balcony, he'd politely refused the offer of playing, but quietly sat and watched…and was utterly confused by the…so-called rules.

"Yeah, you're right! Jesus! Wonder what fucker marketed this shit?" Blitzø whispered back sarcastically and tapped the game box.

"Ah, point taken." Stolas grimaced.

"Your turn, Mils!"

"Hm?"

Millie seemed to be lost when Blitzø tossed the dice in her line of sight on the coffee table. She leaned forward to pick them up, and knew she'd made an instant mistake. Her stomach lurched and chills ran up her shoulders. Immediately reminded of IMP's mission to Antarctica, she wondered how the room had managed to get so cold? Millie gulped and forced what she hoped was a determined smirk. She took the dice, about to roll, but the room starting to kaleidoscope around her easily changed her mind.

"Here, Mox, roll for me…I think I'm gonna sit the rest of this one out." Millie said, her voice sounding tight and rushed as she handed the dice to her husband.

"Are you sure? Honey, you love Mammonopoly!"

Moxxie looked at her, bewildered. Millie pasted on a paper-thin smile and nodded, handing over her player token and dropping the dice on the board.

"Not as much as you, baby!" Millie blurted out, in a rush to leave, "Just gotta run to the lil' imp's room, real quick, 'scuse me!"

The room tilted as she made her way to the bathroom, her hand pressed against her stomach. The party carried on outside, but once inside, she leaned over the sink, feeling the bile rise up her aching throat. Millie's eyes clenched as she tossed her Sinsmas cookies. This was the third time today.

Several hours ago, when the party had begun, after a second upchucking and seeing that terrifying plus, she'd hoped a call to her sister would help her figure out what to do next. Sallie Mae, though she sounded scared as well, had responded with unconditional support, told her to breathe and asked if she was absolutely sure.

"Sure as fuckin' peanut butter an' pickled onions on toast, Sal." She'd laughed bitterly through her tears, not wanting to look at the positive test that had dropped on the floor.

That'd been what their own mother had craved when she was around 5 weeks pregnant with their younger brothers. And what she'd been eating in front of Moxxie's moderately disturbed mug just the other morning. Back at the ranch, the expecting hell-hogs tended to get moody around 5-7 weeks when breeding a litter. And emotions had been a bit volatile recently, to say the least. Both girls cried, said teary I love you's and agreed she was at least a month along, before the call ended.

Now with more answers and support, she still felt so lost, drowning in uncertainty. And...somehow freezing in a fucking fur-lined sweater dress. She took a deep breath and blinked at the fearful imp she couldn't recognize in the mirror. And shivering, nose starting to run, felt an itch stem in the bridge of her nose.

"Hihnk'XHT…Hee'XHT'ieww!…shit." Millie barely stifled the sneezes toward the floor and swore under her breath. Great, another setback to add on to their steaming shit-pile of worries.

But, she could push past this! It was just a little sniffle. The team couldn't afford any more snafus. So she tried to compose herself and stay calm, wiping her nose and mouth with a kleenex and running her claws through her hair. A few sneezes were the least of her worries. How was she going to handle this recent development?

Why now? The thought pummeled and clanged through Millie's mind like a sledgehammer. She looked again at the mirror and put a hand to her middle. She'd known something was off for a little while, but of course, had kept it to herself and pushed through as always. You couldn't miss work just because of a little tummy ache. So she'd put her mind on her work and chalked up the icky feeling to the constant shitshow of the past month. Everyone was going through a lot, not just her. She couldn't be selfish. She had to be there for her team. She HAD to be strong.

After all, Blitzø had narrowly escaped an execution ruled by Satan himself, thanks to the tremendous sacrifice of a prince of the Ars Goetia. The hearing had aired on screens spanning across all 7 rings and gained the members of IMP a massive influx of recognition and respect. And while a huge increase in clientele and training the new interns were positives, it was still a lot to handle all at once. So many changes had happened in just the span of a month and during the holiday season.

Just that afternoon, they'd decapitated a 35ft ice monster, stood by in the cold as Stolas cried on his knees over losing connection to his daughter. And, now there was this. There was always the risk, but she and Moxxie had always been careful. Why now, did life have such shitty timing? She took a shaky breath…No. They could enjoy this night. She could be strong-

A sudden knock at the door had rattled her out of her thoughts, Millie jerked, knocking her head slightly on the edge of the sink. She winced but steadied herself and called out, "Sorry, I'm alright! Just a sec!"

"Moxxie, I'm fi-"

She opened the door and stepped outside to see, not her husband, but an awkward looking Stolas, who was…twiddling his thumbs as he waited.

"Oh- M-my goodness, I am SO sorry, Big Guy!" Millie nervously smiled, her drawl sweet as punch.

"No No! I apologize, I just had to use the-..." Then he looked up with concern, and seemed to see right through Millie's facade. "Sorry, are you quite alright? Forgive me, but you look…quite flushed."

"Oh, you're too sweet, Stolas, I'm fine," Millie waved him off with a lie, a little too quickly, "Just a lil buzzed, that's all…" Another lie, she hadn't had a drop to drink all night. She had to get the attention off of her somehow, then she realized, "Uh…How are you holdin' up?"

Millie felt awful the moment the question had crawled out of her teeth. Her question wasn't completely insincere, she was truly sympathetic. She knew he shouldn't have to be reliving the day more than he already was, but the fighter couldn't think straight and she'd panicked. Stolas couldn't respond at all, his gaze lingering on the imp in front of him a second longer than usual. Millie felt four red eyes piercing through her, like he could see her thoughts clear as day. But then he blinked, and it was gone. He looked at the floor and seemed to freeze there, spiraling.

Millie nodded, "S'alright, m'sorry...I know you're goin' through some real tough shit...don't have to tell me nothin', alright?" It was a little awkward, but she'd at least tried to give him some warm reassurance.

The owl looked past her and offered a curt nod. He headed into the bathroom and closed the door. Millie let out a rigid exhale she hadn't known she'd been holding in and walked back to the living room. The game had seemed to unofficially run its course and had migrated into fun inebriated conversation. All was well, but as she sat down, she couldn't stop the chills. But…no one seemed to suspect a thing. Right?

"...Millie, you're shivering." Moxxie's voice, quiet as it may have been, almost made her jump. She should have known he'd notice and start to prod at the first sign. Millie huffed. She was fine! Clearly, this was ridiculous.

"Oh, Sweetie, quit your worryin'...m'fine. If anythin', it's a little cold in here."

"Well…I can fix that! Get over here, good lookin'!" Moxxie waggled his eyebrows, nuzzling against his wife's shoulder and pulling her in to snuggle.

"Moxxie!" Millie's sweet little giggles tinkled out like music as Moxxie embraced her…but didn't last long. She shuddered under his touch and nuzzled back, so desperate for warmth, her little buck teeth chattered. And Moxxie, ever the attentive husband, couldn't help but study her with quiet concern. Millie hoped a saccharine smile would get her through, teeth like marshmallows, hiding the forest fire in her head.

"S-somethin' wrong, Sweetie?"

"Well- Yeah...You just feel a little warm?…And you threw up earlier?…And don't take this the wrong way but you look a little…peaky." Moxxie seemed to be quickly putting the pieces together and she had to stop it.

She scoffed, feigning bravado, "Tch, Peaky? Moxx, there's nothin' to worry about, I told ya to quit worryin', I don't-"

"Is your stomach still queasy? Oh crumbs, was it the cookies? Maybe I took 'em out too early! You know salmonella is rarely fatal, but if you were already susceptible- "

"Moxxie!...I am fine! Jus' stop fuckin' ramblin', all this noise, you're makin' m'head hurt." Okay, that came out way harsher than she'd meant it to, and it showed as Moxxie had pulled away, looking confused and a little wounded.

"Sorry Moxx, I-…Shit…did it again, didn't I?…uh oh! - Hnk'TCHi!"

Moxxie's eyebrows flew up and he reached out a gentle hand toward Millie, growing very worried, "Bless you, honey-"

She pulled away and let out a huge sneeze into her wrist over her other shoulder.

"AtSH'SHEW!"

"Bless you…"

Millie couldn't look Moxxie in the eye, she was utterly drained. He leaned over, holding her flushed face in his hand to feel his poor wife's forehead and then her cheeks.. He frowned, a furrow forming between his brows as he took her hand, not needing another sign to know it was time to leave.

"Yep…I thought so…" He kissed her forehead and looked her in the eye, "We're going home, Millie." Millie looked up at him, apologetic. So much for being strong.

"Hey Sir?...We're gonna call it a night." Moxxie called over to get Blitzø's attention out of the loud drunken conversation, his hand firmly around Millie's waist, helping her stand up.

"Already?!" Loona slurred, her eyes waving wildly around the room, holding up a game box for 'Settlers of Satan' in one paw, and somehow, another bottle in the other, "But we were just about to start the next game...with. more. DRINKS!"

Moxxie gave Millie a pointed look, and she finally spoke up, "Nah, we really best be goin'."

"That'sss…bullshit! Dad! Back me up! Y-you know what I think, Dad? These guys…are too fuckin' chickenshit tooo-"

Loona's words were cut off as she sprinted out of the room to the balcony, and the entire party cringed at the sound of her retching and a car alarm going off from the street.

"...Oh my fucking god...I'll hold her hair back, c'mon Russ." Loona's tipsy friend Gigi sighed and headed out to the balcony, pulling along the equally drunk fluff-ball behind her.

"I'm sorry, B, really," Millie called out as Moxxie helped her shrug into her coat, she put on another tight smile as they headed out the front door, "We would'a stuck around, it's just been a really long day."

Blitzø waved her off, "Nah, you're fine, Loona an' her friends're shitfaced...I'm tired as a fat bitch...an' Stolas is…" He trailed off, looking back into the apartment at the bathroom door. "...I'm sure we all wanna crash after this absolute clusterfuck of a day. You kids head home and get some rest, I'll see ya after the New Year.

Millie smiled, a real smile this time, "Merry Sinsmas, Blitzø."

"Merry Sinsmas!…Now! If you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna go-"

They all winced at the sound of Loona vomiting again. "...Handle that."

••••••••••••••••••••

The cab ride home was silent and Millie leaned her head against the cool window, passing building after building decorated with tinsel and rainbow lights. Her eyes welled up with tears and the lights streaked. Moxxie sat beside her and looked over every few moments with an anxious gaze as she sniffled and rubbed her nose on her sweater sleeve.

Finally, once the door to their apartment closed behind them, Millie couldn't hold it in any longer. The tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned to face Moxxie. "M'sorry," she choked out, her voice barely audible.

Moxxie's eyes were full of pure compassion. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, "…Millie, if you weren't feeling well, you don't have to hide things from me…Why didn't you tell me?"

"I know, Moxx, m'sorry...I just-...I wanted us to have this night." She snorted back what must've been running out of her nose and she knew it was an ugly sound, but she didn't have any energy to care. Her body now feeling like it was roasting on a spit, she sobbed out, "Shit, we've just been dealin' with so much an-"

"I know…Too much. And it's finally getting to you...It's okay...It's okay." Moxxie did his best to calm her cries, holding her and stroking the back of her head.

Moxxie led her into their bedroom. He helped her into bed, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her. He climbed in next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her in closer to his side.

But she pulled away gently. "Moxxie?...I think…I might need a lil' space tonight."

"...Honey?"

Her voice quivered, "It's just... I-I don't want'cha gettin' sick. Whatever I'm gettin'...it's nasty. I don' wanna spread it."

Moxxie was silent for a moment, then nodded solemnly, but still wore a smile. He knew something was wrong, but put his trust in her. He pulled back the covers and tucked her in, making sure she'd be warm enough.

He pecked a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Millie I-...I understand…If you need anything, just tell me...I love you…Merry Sinsmas."

"Merry Sinsmas…I love you too...M- Moxxie?...I'm-"

The room was already empty. He had left as quietly as he could, giving her the space she had asked for. Millie felt a lump form in her throat. She rolled onto her side, her hand brushing and clawing at the spot on the pillow where his head had been. Fuck, she felt like a monster. She'd lied. She'd snapped. And now, she had sent her husband to sleep on the couch? On what was supposed to be a happy night. She growled at the overboil of thoughts in her troubled mind and channeled it into a punch into the headboard. Her eyes filled with tears that spilled over onto Moxxie's pillowcase. The fabric grew damp under her cheek as she wept, her sobs muffled by the pillow.

Could this monster be a mother? She was a Wrathian thug, a brawler. And sure, Blitzø had taught her she could be more than that. But could she do this?...Be this? She'd never imagined this for herself...for them. She and her husband committed murder for a living. It was a job she enjoyed and she'd potentially have to throw it all away. What kind of childhood would the spawn of two hired assassins have?

The thought was laughable…really. So absurd, she couldn't help but let out a little watery snicker. It grew into a chuckle, and before she knew it, she was laughing into the pillow. It was a delirious laugh fueled by a mix of anxiety, probably hormones and the piping hot fever. It all was just too much, she couldn't stop the giggles.

But the laughter eventually devolved into a coughing fit, her chest burning and her eyes watering. She gripped the pillow tightly, trying to muffle the sound, not wanting to wake her poor husband that she'd sent to the couch. He was probably worried sick about her, and she didn't need to add to it. Finally, the coughs subsided, leaving her gasping for breath. And the room had grown quiet again.

Exhaustion had pulled down her eyelids, and she let herself into sleep. Dreams descended quickly, a whirlwind of chaotic images and confusing sounds. A tiny tail, two little stubby black and white horns and… a little scarlet claw reached up for her own. But it was gone before she could grasp it, replaced by an audible chop and the cold steel of an axe.

••••••••••••••••••••

Millie twisted awake out of her feverish nightmare, almost giving her neck whiplash as she'd been curlicued in a ball under the blankets. As she pushed herself up against the pillows, she felt like she was hauling a bag of wet sand, as she was completely stuffed up. Her nose like a drippy clogged drain, she snorted back what felt like a wall of mucus in her sinuses. A few seconds later, a little fit of harsh congested sneezes barreled out.

"…Heeh…Hee'ESH'HEW!…HAtSH'CHEW"

"...Bless you." A voice gently called from the doorway.

"ES'HEW!...yitSCHiEW!"

Once Millie could finally blink the sleepy rime out of her eyes and scrub at her nose, she got a good look at her husband, who was carrying a tray, full of sick day essentials from their medicine cabinet.

"…G'mbordin'." she rasped out a greeting more akin to a frog.

"Good Morning…" Moxxie set the tray down, and felt under her bangs with the back of his hand, "You…are very hot, Sweetie."

"You...are such a flirt…hhh…ESh'HiEww!"

Moxxie chuckled and kissed the side of her temple, "Not like that..."

Millie took one look at the tray, complete with Tissues, Baphometophen, Belli-Buttons Antacids, Deep-Throat brand cough drops, decongestant, expectorant and was a little overwhelmed. She mentally cursed her overly attentive husband. She wasn't sure how medications would affect her body in this state, with this...thing inside her.

She deliriously shook her head at the tray, "Uh-uh- No…I- I don't ndeed all that shit…d'ain't that serious."

"But, Millie-"

"It's jus' a cold..I said no."

Moxxie's face fell at the defensiveness in her tone, but he patiently nodded, understanding. "Okay...Uh, can you at least lemme get you something to eat?...Maybe some tea?"

Millie managed a nod, and looked away, feeling guilty for snapping at him...again, "Tea'd be ndice...Thagk you, baby."

Moxxie nodded with a smile, leaving the tissues, and taking the tray with him. She heard him in the kitchen, the clinking of pots and pans and the hiss of the kettle. She grabbed a tissue and grumpily snorted and rubbed at her nose, feeling like a catapult as she leaned back and had to pitch a heavy sneeze.

"Ack'SHiEW!"

"Bless you, Sweetie!" She heard from the next room.

Sweet Lucifer, she loved that man. He was too good to her. He'd probably make a wonderful father. They'd even talked about it before, but it'd been a hypothetical for the future. Far in the future. Sure, she'd helped her mother around the house with the younger siblings since infancy. Sure, they'd been married almost 2 years. Sure, having a kid at 27 was okay…when you were planning for it. But this had come out of nowhere, it wasn't the same as having your own. She was so scared of the unknown, the changes her body would go through, how this would impact their life, their job, their relationship. That's …if she was even keeping this.

Within another hour of her stewing in her thoughts, the door squeaked open, and Moxxie entered, carrying in the tray again, this time, with a steaming mug and a bowl.

"Here, Sweetie."

"Whassat?" She drowsily pointed to the bowl, once Moxxie set the tray down.

"It's soup!...Well, it's my...Mom's soup."

His Mom? Millie felt her heart swelling, "D'Aww, Honey…You didn't hafta go'n…do that."

Moxxie looked down at the steaming bowl with a sad smile, "It's called Pastina, but this one is special, it's what she used to give me when I was sick, down in Notamafia...I know I don't talk about her often...I never told you that story, huh?"

Millie shook her head with wide yellow orbs and took the warm mug of tea from the tray and sipped. Moxxie never tended to say much about his childhood and she had respected that. After the experience of meeting his father, she understood why it'd never come up in conversation. He hesitated and his expression became a bit sullen as if he were numb.

"It was raining...real hard one night," he began, his yellow eyes froze over with the memory, "...Dad sometimes took me out with him to his office…He'd been teaching me to shoot, how to aim and hold steady?...He'd call it-…'bonding', 'learning the family business'...But he just wanted another pawn......That night, he put a beretta in my hand, cocked and loaded, and told me to shoot at the dartboard… It took a while, but I'd practiced and I eventually…hit a bullseye…I thought he'd be proud...Of course, it didn't take long to find out that wasn't what he really cared about…He just wanted me to shoot."

Moxxie's memories faded to childhood in the greed ring, 6 years old, his horns still barely growing in. Holding the gun and hopefully looking up at Crimson for his approval after trying for hours. Millie knew that the story was about to take a turn for the worse and her eyes started to well up.

"...Dad took me outside, reloaded the barrel and told me… to try to hit another target...and we wouldn't go back inside until I hit it...until it hit them…" Millie's heart shattered for her husband, for the abuse he'd had to suffer.

"...We sat there for hours… soaking and so fucking cold, and all I could do was stare...I couldn't do it, Millie."

She croaked, rubbing away hot tears, "Course not baby, not with your heart…That cocksuckin' psycho…No young'un should be forced into that…used an' made to feel they don't matter...Baby- I am so sorry."

At that, Moxxie smiled back at Millie, as if he was thanking her, and a fond bittersweet look came over him at the flashback of his mother rushing over and pulling the gun out of his hand, dropping it in Crimson's lap. Carrying her son inside out of the rain, she'd given him a bath and tucked him into bed. He shook out of the memory and a little fanged grin started to form.

"Uh-...Anyway...Mom found me…took care of me…It's a miracle that Dad and I didn't catch pneumonia out there…but we both got pretty close...It was the weakest I'd ever seen him! And that piece of shit...begged my Mom, like he was on his fucking deathbed…to make 'Pastina...like my Mudduh used to make'." He said, imitating a sorry sounding Crimson, complete with thick accent.

Then his smile grew wider…and he snorted. He chuckled and shrugged, suddenly surprising Millie who was still in tears.

"It's funny, cause it's usually such a gentle dish...Mom, added her love though. A little bit of cayenne, a pinch of chili flakes...Wrathian spices! 'To keep you warm, Mijo'..." Then, he shook his head, unable to contain himself, "Let's just say, she put a little extra in Dad's, I'll never forget..."

Through her tears, Millie began to chuckle too, as her husband's laughter grew louder and contagious.

"...He crawls out of the bathroom, on his hands and knees, whining 'OHH, my coolie!...Mammina!...Di puttana...Fra Diovolo Pastina!'..." Moxxie took great pleasure in mocking his father in a rare moment of weakness, writhing like a worm. That slimeball had deserved every second of suffering.

Millie wiped the tears away from her eyes and let out a congested little giggle. Moxxie immediately took notice and beamed back. Laughter was the best medicine.

"Aha!...Lit a fire under his ass...Smart woman!-..."

"...You remind me of her, you know?..."

...What?

"Beautiful, intelligent, inventive and funny…and a fighter, so strong even on the hardest days and so much love to give."

Moxxie's speech hung in the air. The tears immediately returned in full force and rolled down Millie's cheeks, in utter shock and silence, until a rough cough pounded its way out of her chest. She took a bite of the soup.

"S'real good, Moxx...Thank you."

Millie continued to eat little bites of the little star pasta, the burn of the liquid running down her throat, clearing her sinuses, but doing little to soothe the emotions brewing within her. She felt his pain, his fear, his love. Real love. She'd never realized it before, but it was possible that was why family was so important to him. What kind of childhood would the spawn of two hired assassins have? If they decided to go through with this, together. A loving one. And if not, she knew, he'd support her.

"Moxxie?..." she started, setting the mug down and turning to face him, her voice shaky.

"What's up, Sweetie?"

Millie's voice cracked, the words she wanted to say lodging themselves in her throat. If he could start opening up more to her, why couldn't she do the same?

"M-Moxxie...I'm so sorry-...An' I just…I wanna tell you…I'm-...

…Y'ESH'HEW!"

Goddamnit. Here came the effects of the spices. Moxxie picked up the box of tissues and held it up with a smile. Millie gratefully took a few tissues, rubbed her watering eyes and released a thick blow.

Okay. She needed to tell him, soon. That was being strong. But for now, she'd focus on letting her walls down a little, letting her sweet husband love and take care of her. She was exausted and needed to overcome this first. When she wasn't feverish, of sound mind and able to pronounce her m's and n's…then she'd tell him.

"...I love you…so much." Moxxie looked at her, his smile wide and full of unconditional love.

"I love you too...and I'm sorry you don't feel well...And, just in case, I think you're going to need these…for the next hour or so."

He edged the tissue box closer to her on the bed, moved the tray and wiggled his way under the blanket. Millie honked another stuffy blow and Moxxie wrinkled his nose and snickered, cuddling into her side. And to his happy relief, she nuzzled back. There was his Millie!

"Wanna watch something?" The sick imp whined as Moxxie got up to open their DVD cabinet across from the bed, but had an answer right away.

"Cleaverhand 6?...It's m'favorite…an' I'm siiick baby." Millie pleaded, eyes swelling to an adorable size, complete with a big pout for good measure.

Moxxie rolled his eyes, "Millie...You just watched that last week...don'tcha think that's a bit much for a sick day?

"So what?...Uh-Ultimate Cleavage, is-…yITch'HIEW!...-b-better than Cleaverhand 2: Electric Boobaloo and only slightly worse than…than!- ACK'ESh'ieew!...Cleaverhand 7: Final Cutlet…Eck'Etss'Hew!"

"Bless you...You're sure?" Moxxie flatly challenged her, they had just had a little tiff about this, just last week. It was a useless argument, as he was too much of a sucker for the big round pleading eyes across from him.

"Hell yes!…C'mon baby," she begged again from behind a tissue, "…We ransacked that abandoned Cockbuster for a reason."

"Well, we also found that limited 1926 edition of Faust? Remember?...Doesn't that sound relaxing?"

"..."

Moxxie sighed, "Cleaverhand 6 it is..."

••••••••••••••••••●●

Millie had begrudgingly spent the next few days in bed, and while she was gradually improving each day, a maddening cabin fever had been setting in. With a little persuasion she'd managed to take some medication to lower the fever and an antacid to settle her stomach. It was disheartening that she'd resisted and even tried to push through, as it was hitting her pretty hard. Moxxie wouldn't say it came as a complete surprise though.

While he was a fan of modern medicine, Moxxie knew his wife would rather handle things the 'Ol' Fashioned Way', 'let nature run its course'. The last time he'd gotten the flu, she'd bundled him like a burrito, she'd made him stew, whispered sweet nothings into his ears and...put potatoes in his socks? It had 'worked for her great Uncle Bocephus', so why not try it?

So she'd been recovering, but she'd also been rather high strung lately, and the isolation and boredom didn't help. There was also…something else going on. Moxxie could feel it, every time he looked at her. Something plaguing her mind. But he couldn't force her, and he trusted that she'd open up in her own time. He longed to know what was going on, or at least ease her troubles, or make her smile.

He'd been grateful the Sinners had been celebrating their New Year's Eve. The passing of another 365 days on Earth. The hellborn didn't exactly celebrate years spent in The Rings the same way, as the concept and passage of time was a bit more complicated in Hell. Nevertheless, it'd been a wonderful distraction from all the misery.

A thrilling display of fireworks across the city, had them both cuddled on the floor in a blanket near the front window to watch. Moxxie had made them both Cocoa, and they'd shared a kiss, wishing all the sinners well. It was beautiful, but seeing his Angel of Death smile, after being stuck in bed all week, put the fireworks to shame.

[sweetlysniffly]

Hayfever Haze

Fandom: Hell//uva B//oss

Summary: Mill//ie’s run out of hayfever medicine, and it’s got Moxx//ie’s in a bit of a daze.

A/N: Im sure if you follow me you know how much I say that I want Millie content, so I finally got off my ass and wrote a little something. This is like, my first full kink fic so bear with me. Both m&m have the kink in this fic btw, as per my headcanon. I might do a part 2 depending on if people like this or not so let me know what you think 💕

There were a couple things Blitz knew he could depend on whenever he walked into IMP. Loona doing anything but working, something heavy falling on Moxxie, and Millie's megawatt smile. One of those things was missing this morning.

"Mills?" Blitz called, only for his coworker to shush him with a finger to his lips.

"Sir, could you be any louder?"

"Well sure I can, Mox, but you'd have to buy me dinner first-

Moxxie rolled his eyes, "Eugh. Sir, I mean it. Look."

Moxxie turned Blitz's head to see Millie, sitting at the conference table in her typical spot, head down in her arms. Was she...crying? He couldn't hear any sobbing, and Moxxie would probably be all over her-

Blitz's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of snoring. He watched as Millie's head turned and the sound became less muffled.

"Normally I'd say something about not paying you to sleep on the job-

"Sir, we don't have a client today-

"Shut up, Mox! Can't you see your wife is trying to sleep? Now, I was going to say that normally I'd say something but she...doesn't look too good."

Blitz was right. The position Millie passed out in didn't look especially comfortable, especially for her neck. Her nose and eyes were flushed red, and her mouth was slightly agape as she slept. There were crumpled-up tissues on the table around her and floor at her feet, and a red gingham handkerchief loose in her hand.

Blitz got intense, staring Moxxie in the eyes. "What happened? Did you hurt her, Moxxie? Cause I swear-

"What? No sir, I would never!" Moxxie sighed, gesturing towards his poor wife, as if it was obvious. "She has really bad allergies this time of year: not used to the city trees, and we ran out of her allergy medicine. She was up all night because she couldn't breath through her nose."

Blitz noticed that Moxxie seemed a little...less confident than when he normally spoke. He could chalk it up to trying to be quiet so he doesn't wake Millie up, but there was something else there too. He didn't have too much time to dwell on it before they whipped their heads to a sound from across the room.

“Hupt'TSCHUH!!”

Sniffles and a tired moan followed her audible heavy sneeze. Millie brought a hanky up to her face to blow, but was unsuccessful as only a squeak emitted from her nose.

"Guh..." Millie lifted her head from the table. "Sorry 'bout the mess, B, I'll clean it up." She sniffed loudly, rubbing her the sleep from her itchy, irritated eyes. Moxxie, ever the gentleman, scrambled to clean the tissues up before his wife could.

"You sure you should be here, Mills? No offense but you look like death warmed over."

"Thanks, B." Millie mumbled with slight irritation in her tone. "It's these damn trees and all the pollen in the air. Its different than back home. Didn't know I had allergies 'till I moved here.” She sat up, aiming to be spry and attentive to the assignment. “What's on the agenda for today?" She punctuated her sentence with a thick sniffle. Her usually energy was gone, her voice showing clear signs of a scratchy throat and thick congestion.

Blitz side eyed Moxxie, unsure of how to react. Can you let an employee have sick leave for allergies? She'd probably just get them caught on a mission with all her sniffling and sneezing. Well its his business, he reasoned, he can do whatever he wants.

He went back to his daily boss monologuing routine. “Well, I was thinking that-

"hupT'SCHUh! hechT-CHIEW ! huh...heuhh....HUdshcHhH! Sngkkk." Millie wiped her dripping nose on her sleeve. “Bless me. Sorry, boss.”

Blitz resumed. “That since you can't go two seconds without sneezing, Loonie and I will go out and get your medicine while you and Mox stay back and get some rest.” He wrapped his arms around Loona to give her a hug. She scowled, and although she didn't hug back, she didn't push him off. Blitz grinned.

"We can't really go on a mission with you sneezing so much, Mills, we'd probably get caught. And Stolas and I aren't exactly on...peachy terms right now so we can't expect him to come save us if we do."

Moxxie put a hand on her back, assuring her that neither he nor Blitz thought any less of her or her capabilities. Moxxie could tell how bad her allergies were back at the apartment, but she insisted she was fine. She couldn't skip work over allergies! And she definitely didn't need to.

"I'm fine, Blitz, really."

Moxxie took her hand. "Millie, honey, Blitz is right. We need our strongest fighter in tip top shape." He tapped her nose and smiled reassuringly, hoping she'd take the compliment. The second his finger lifted however, he noticed Millie's eyes shutting and her head leaning up. She lifted her hand to cover the sneeze, forgetting her husband’s fingers were still interlinked with hers.

"hUT'zchiEEWww!! snff...snff"

As the spray hit his hand, Moxxie felt an electricity spread through his skin. Heat rose into his cheeks as blood also rushed to...other areas of his body. He took in a small, but noticeably sharp, breath. "B-bless you, honey." He stuttered out.

Millie turned, a bit mortified. "Ugh, sniff sniff, sorry honey. It snuck up on mbe." She patted down her pockets, looking for something to clean off his hand with, only to come up with used tissues. "I'b all outta tissues." She snuffled, and it came out louder than she thought it would be. "Exusbe mbe."

Blitz quickly glanced down the same place Moxxie had glanced. Ohhhh. That makes sense, he thought to himself. He'd noticed Moxxie's...peculiar behavior around sneezing before, but he always chalked it up to being uptight. Moxxie could be pretty hoity toity sometimes, so Blitz always assumed his gunman was a germaphobe. But a part of him always wondered if it was more than that.

He had his answer now. He watched with a smug grin on his face as Moxxie shyly offered Millie a handkerchief from his inner coat pocket. God, how did he manage to be that much of a gentleman while he was that horny?

"We'll get some more tissues too. I was gonna run out anyway. Your snot isn't the only...bodily fluid that comes out frequently here. Bye M&M!"

Loona didn't look up from her phone as she walked out the door. Blitz lingered in the doorway a while, locking eyes with Moxxie. He taunted his employee, watching him blush harder as a shit eating grin spread across his face.

"Have fun while we're gone. Bye, Millie Billieeeeee!”

Millie watched them walk out the door before slumping her head on his husbands shoulder. “I think all this congestion is makin’ mby head tense up.”

At the sound of her suddenly lower, raspier voice softly hitting his ears, Moxxie felt his tail pointing and smiled. “I can help with that…”

TBC…

[sickficsaturn]

I’m forcefully headcannoning that Sto/las fantasizes about taking care of a sick Bli//tzø

And should it ever even happen, Bli//tz is stupid stubborn, full of denial and excuses, might even try to continue on with their usual exchange as long as princy ain’t worried about germs… but Sto// would just be heartbroken that the imp would feel the need to put his health aside for such a thing and would insist that the two spend the night in bed, not in the sexy way, but actually resting. He’d lovingly tend to Bli//tz’s every need

And of course, Blit//tz wouldn’t know how to act. That’s far more care than he’d ever experience.

Do you see my vision? If not, I apologize for my yapping

But if so… I’m open to RPs lol

[twisted-lilies]

Do u perchance have any s//tolas headcanons?

“If you’re taking requests for Helluva Boss👀Perhaps… some Stolas headcanons?”

i love that at least two people in my asks immediately asked for the same thing, the snzblr hivemind is real y’all and i love it <3 i’d be more than happy to give some thoughts on my favorite bird man! also i’m assuming you guys want snz hcs but if i’m wrong please feel free to correct me!

kind of a stifle-sound (even though he doesn’t tend to stifle) and ends in a “choo” like 99% of the time

intense spices make him sneeze and he’s sensitive to strong smells and scents

usually sneezes in triples but can be more or less depending on what’s irritating him

one of those who absolutely milks an illness for all the attention he can get unless it’s something actually serious like the flu and he’s taken completely out of commission

always calls blitzø whenever he’s feeling bad (assuming it’s not actually that bad and he just wants attention)

not used to being taken care of, so he doesn’t know how to act. one minute he’s singing their praises and the next he’s completely silent.

he’s like a victorian child whenever he gets a fever, even a mild one. tons of pillows all around him, blankets everywhere, moaning about how this will be his death. he is the drama.

if he’s sick while he has something important to do like caring for via, he pushes through it with varying degrees of success. sometimes he can muddle through, other times he literally passes out.

at the end of the day, he just wants affection when he’s feeling poorly. it’s very rare for anyone to give it to him, though. the closest thing he has is blitzø, but he assumes stolas is just being dramatic and doesn’t actually need him for anything. oh how wrong he is.

[toonsforkicks22]

He looks like he belongs in Hell…uva Boss

[dollarbils]

las doce uvas de la suerte | b.eilish

bestfriend!billie x fem!reader

masterlist

“there’s no way you’re serious?” she almost laughed at the grapes in your hand, only five minutes of the year left, the new one approaching.

“of course im serious! i’ve got enough for you if you’d like some?” she thought on it for a second, taking in your environment. a rather large gathering at one of your friends house, most of the guests huddled outside, preparing for the fireworks.

“you know what, i’d love some.” her smile was still bright, accepting the precise number of twelve grapes you handed her.

“okay, do you know how it works?” she hesitated for a moment, not wanting to mistake the tradition you held so dearly.

“yeah, twelve grapes in twelve seconds right?” you nodded in excitement as you began to crouch, heading for the table in your friend’s living room.

“what the hell are you doing?” she questioned, a puzzled look as you why you were now sitting cross legged, underneath the table.

“what do you mean? hurry up it’s nearly midnight!” she followed before rephrasing her question.

“is there a reason as to why we’re under the table?” she was amused, despite her confusion.

“i’m not really sure, that’s just how it is.” you both laughed before you heard the group of people counting down from twenty.

“get ready! when we hear twelve, we go. one grape per second.” she nodded in understanding as you prepared the first grape. when you heard the shouts, you both started eating the grapes. the further you got to the new year, the more billie struggled. when the shouts erupted into screams of joy, you had both eaten the last grape, now finding it challenging to chew and swallow them.

“happy new year!” you shouted as you hugged her. she just sort of sat there, not fully returning the hug.

“are you okay?” your question didn’t faze her, she just smiled at you, her eyes bright. and that’s when she kissed you. your best friend, reaching for your face and bringing it to hers. and it wasn’t the usual new years kiss between two friends. it was more. and you kissed her back, relishing in the moment.

“yeah, i’m better than okay.”

note: happy new year’s eve, new year’s day or whatever/ whenever you celebrate! i wish you all the best 😘

i just did my nails so idk how much i’ll be able to write this week but here’s a cute little new years blurb for you baddies

x lilia

[sweetlysniffly]

I love these omg and they’re so perfect!!!!!

That man catches a pathetic snively col at every occasion

Do you have any snz headcanons for Stolas?

A a a aaa snzcanon train goes c r azy, I have many!! (Also hello hiiii, seeing you in my notes every now and again has been so sweet, I am waving ecstatically ^^)

Cannot stifle to save his life, he was never taught how and it never feels right, if the sneeze doesn't hit, he will sneeze again and again until it hits right, his body demands it.

Sneezes end up being a bit owl-y, lots of "Hnk'TsSHOO! H-hah'KSsSHOO! HrR'SsCHOO!"

Usually sneezes in doubles or triples, a single sneeze is rare.

Being sheltered for most of his developmental years gave him a l o t of allergies: dust, mold, mildew, cat hair, lavender, a lot of the "cheaper" soaps and shampoos (He is s o thankful that Bl/itz is bald), the list goes on

Was also only taught how to cover his sneeze using a handkerchief, not his arm, because god forbid he sully his beautiful expensive clothes, which means that if he doesn't have a hanky to cover with... he's using his hands (yeah...super classy)

Always has at least one handkerchief on him at all times, and is not above using a pocket square as a makeshift handkerchief if he needs to/ if his regular hanky is already soaked.

Not a very wet sneezer, his sinuses tend to be very dry unless he's got a particularly nasty cold (unfortunately this means he's prone to "nose"/beak bleeds with all of his sneezing causing friction without moisture)

His eyes water a lot, it looks almost elegant and dainty as though he's a bit teary-eyed or passively crying, but then his sclerae turn red and his lower eyelids get puffy and it goes from "Aww cute" to "Here is ALL of the Hell-Dryl, go nuts"

Gets very sneezy when he drinks, particularly when he drinks red wine because it's so "dusty"...and also because he might be allergic to it, who's to say, he refuses to get another allergy test done because last time he got so many positives that the itching nearly turned him feral.

His immune system leaves... some things to be desired. It isn't necessarily weak, but it's definitely been skipping the gym. If he's around someone while they're ill, or even around someone who's been around someone else who was ill, he's probably catching it.

Has a more fragile constitution, something that St/el/la pestered him about constantly, telling him to cover up, layer up, stay out of drafts, because if there was one thing worse than being seen with her wimpy husband, it was being seen with him while he was sniffling and sneezing.

^ He would complain that she exaggerated but she was 100% right. Opening the freezer while still damp from the bath? Cold. Sitting in a draft without his dressing gown or a cardigan? Cold. Not toweling off after gardening in the rain? Cold.

^ He has a sore throat every other week because he refuses to stop walking around his big drafty palace with his dressing gown open and his chest out. Stubborn motherfucker.

[sweetlysniffly]

So that new helluva boss short…the way there voices shudder from the cold …totally isn’t reminiscent of anything else…such a thing definitely serves no ulterior purpose to me