Zuki || 25 || she/her || experiencing quarter life crisis || predominantly a sneeze kink and sick fic blog with some whump, sick scenarios, fever and h/c thrown in || will occasionally write stuff ||
Thank you! For the snz fic prompt, perhaps its another successful mission where they beat the villain of the day. Hulk goes AWOL for a bit until Tony finds him sitting in a field of flowers. Thr big guy looks surprisingly peaceful, sitting still and seemingly enjoying the sight of the flowers. Tony chills with him too until Bruce transforms back. Unlike the Hulk, he's not too keen about his surroundings due to the fact that it triggers his hay fever. He's got pollen on him and can't get relief until he washes it off so he's just a miserable, itchy sneezy mess during the ride back to the tower
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commission for @featherliketouch ! i hope you enjoy!
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fandom: Marvel
character(s): Bruce Banner, The Hulk, Tony Stark
pairing(s)?: Hinted at, Bruce + Tony
snzer: Bruce Banner
cause: Allergies (Pollen/Hayfever)
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Tony sighed heavily with relief as he spotted the large green mass in a field. He checked in on comms, then spoke up.
“I got him. You guys head back. I’ll send for another suit to get Banner when he’s not green.” He landed and his suit opened, letting him step out and approach. “Hey big guy. You gotta let Bruce come back. Gotta get home.” The large green humanoid shook his head.
“Nice here.”
Oh boy. Tony tried not to sigh or groan.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Nice. But we gotta go. Fight’s over.” He watched as the Hulk laid back on the ground, and he sighed, joining him. He started thinking of ways to . “Hm.. Why don’t we nap? I hear naps are nice too” He kept trying to make small talk and leading the Hulk into a calmed-down state, and eventually he drifted off himself. The Big Guy had a point- it was nice. The slight breeze, the scent of flowers.. It was like the calm after the storm. So Tony slept a while. When he opened his eyes again, it was still daylight, but he heard something.
“Hih’Etshhuh! Eishhuh! Hh- heh’EISHHoo!” He say up and looked to his left, and instead of the Hulk, he found a very sneezy- and almost naked- Bruce Banner. Damn the Hulk for destroying his clothes to the point of having only tattered cloth for pants left.
“Welcome back. Gesundheit.” He gently pat Bruce on the back and helped him up, avoiding looking down as he did so. “I uh- I’ll get FRIDAY to send a jet and get us back to the tower.”
“Th-Ah’Tshhuh! Eh’Tshoo! Tha-thanks- Heh’Kshhuh!”
“No problem.” Tony stepped back into his suit and had FRIDAY send a plane to his location, then joined Bruce again. “Hayfever..?” The sneezing had finally slowed down, and Bruce had begun rubbing at his eyes with his palms, sniffling.
“Yeah. Doesn’t usually get this bad though.” He coughed a bit, rubbing his nose carefully. “How long have we been out h-hhere?” Tony checked his watch.
“Uh.. About an hour and a half, maybe? If I’d have known I wouldn’t have taken a nap.”
“You’re fine.. I’ll juhh.. J-just be a little- heh-!”
“Sneezy?” As if the word itself was enough to push him over the edge, Bruce went into another fit just as the plane arrived. He was pretty sure that the fact that the pollen had been stirred up didn’t help as Bruce lost control, with little kittenish sneezes that didn’t seem to want to let up. Tony chuckled and helped Bruce in, sending his suit back to the tower alone as he looked for something Bruce could wear instead of his torn up, pollen covered pants, making sure he also grabbed water and a towel to clean him off. Poor guy was gonna have a long trip to the tower- the least Tony could do was help him get some of the pollen off his skin and face. And so, throughout the trip, Tony spent most of his time gently cleaning off Bruce’s face and hands and offering blessings each time he sneezed. He didn’t mind though. That was just another thing that came with having Bruce around.
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Okay! For the sick fic prompt, I was thinking of one where Bruce falls sick (perhaps in a previous battle, the Hulk was exposed to some kind of alien / foreign substance). It's like he's experiencing the flu (fever, chills, the works) but as he really can't get sick since he had Hulk in him, he's super anxious and that just makes him feel a lot worse. In comes Tony trying his best to care for Bruce and assure the big guy that he'll recover from this
Would this be possible?
commission for @featherliketouch ! i hope you enjoy!
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fandom: Marvel
character(s): Bruce Banner, The Hulk, Tony Stark
pairing(s)?: Hinted at, Bruce + Tony
snzer: Bruce Banner
cause: Illness (Flu/Alien Cold)
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Bruce had been behaving strangely ever since their last fight with an alien that Tony affectionately called ‘Asshole McGee.’ He had kidnapped the poor scientist and tried to run tests on him, but thanks to the Big Guy, Bruce made it out pretty okay. The only issue was a needle prick, and at first, they thought everything was hunky-dory!
“Hh-Heh’NKGXT-!”
Until that had started. The sneezing, cough, chills- all the symptoms that seemed to just add up to the flu. They thought nothing of it until Tony was face to face with the Hulk, literally, being held by the shirt.
“Fix.” His voice was raspy, but undeniably angry, and Tony grabbed at his massive hands, trying to get him to let go.
“Whoa there big guy- Calm down. It’s just the flu. You’ll be fine in a few days. I can get Banner on some meds-”
“NOW!” He growled and Tony flinched ever so slightly.
“Okay okay, just put me down, I’ll see if I can get something done now!” He flailed a bit as the Hulk moved his hand. He originally thought it had been to set him down, but when he saw the look on his face, his heart dropped. “Don’t.”
“Hehh-”
“Don’t you dare!”
“HUH-” Tony grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, dropping to the floor and watching as the Hulk buried his face into the fabric and let loose with a particularly wet sneeze that made Tony shudder. “HHUUHDTSHHOO!” It was loud enough that Tony had to cover his ears, and he cringed as he saw what happened to his shirt.
“Alright.. That’s.. That’s fine. Just.. Lay down somewhere, try to relax. I’ll find something to fix this.” The Hulk huffed, walking off- and blowing his nose into the shirt he had now definitely ruined. He heard him lay down, and eventually heard snoring, and he sighed heavily as he started researching the best methods to cure whatever it was that was currently turning the monster more green than usual.
Eventually, after a few hours, Tony felt something on his back- hair. Soft hair. He heard a few quiet coughs and smiled as he turned to look over his shoulder.
“Hey Bruce. Nice nap?” He fully turned around and checked Bruce over. He’d put on the set of clothes Tony left out for occasions like this, a pair of pajama pants and a corny novelty t-shirt, and his hair was a mess. He felt his forehead, frowning at the warmth, and that seemed to make the scientist worry.
“Yeah.. Did.. Did HE do andythi’g..?” He hesitated to ask, and Tony moved his hand away, shaking his head.
“Nothing big. Just ruined my shirt, but that’s fine. I have plenty more.” Bruce groaned and pressed his head into Tony’s chest, making him laugh and gently ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you some meds and nice food, and you can sleep some more. I’ll make sure you get better. Promise.”
A simple version of what I imagine Bruno’s room to look like, since we never really see where he would have slept I imagine he set up in the first area.
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Kind hearted, patient Julieta with a wicked teasing nature. She knows that Bruno is the sort to sneeze when someone talks about tickly things around him (always has been since their childhood). Whenever she knows he's got a brewing cold and too stubborn/nervous to admit it for whatever reason, all she has to do is to request Bruno to join her in doing something and then she'll start to mention things like:
"Oh, the flowers are in full bloom. Look at all that pollen."
"Ah I haven't dusted the top cabinets in awhile. The dust must be thick."
"I remember there's a new kind of perfume in town, strong yet sweet."
She mentions it casually, making idle talk. Purposefully ignores the way Bruno's eyes become hazy, the soft hitching breaths he's trying to conceal, the subtle way he's trying to rub his nose.
All sweet and totally not amused to see her silly brother struggling until he couldn't anymore. When he's done with the fit, she's all "Now where did those come from? Are you alright?"
Bruno just glares at her through watery eyes. "I hate you."
Her innocent smile breaks and she's just "I love you too, Brunito. Now come, I'll make you some tea and soup."
Hohhh this is good-
Opinion no one asked for: while Encanto is sort of the exception, I tend to avoid sibling or family snz stuff since the kink for me is so, well, kinky in nature and I always feel weird with sneeze-related interactions between family members (especially teasing, since that's a big part of the kink for me).
I do love this, though. Julieta is totally a fiend, you're right. It's always the quiet ones. She was probably the worst prankster as a kid, fight me on this
Because of the above, let me raise you one: instead of Julieta, let's have it be a romantic interest of Bruno's (the only character that's coming to mind is Goldfish Girl). Now GG and Julieta are probably best buds, so of course Julieta's told GG about Bruno's...suggestible nose.
They'd totally be in cahoots over this. Maybe GG's at a Madrigal dinner; her and Julieta sharing Looks at Bruno's attempts to hide a cold or allergic reaction. All GG has to do is talk about something nose-tickling: "Ay, this spice is delicious/Really does make the eyes water, doesn't it?/Tingles the soft palate all the way in the back, etc," until Bruno totally loses it. In the most spectacular way possible.
Sure, it's an excuse to give Bruno some caretaking, but why not have a little fun while you're at it?
I just love when our sick darling tries to hide themselves away...because they don't want to spread their illness, or because they think they are making too much noise, or they don't want to be a bother.
They inevitably end up somewhere miserably uncomfortable: The blanket-less couch. The dark bathroom. Half asleep at the kitchen table over cold tea. 😭
And then. Someone looks for them! And finds them! And lovingly scolds them. And puts them back into bed where they belong.
I just love that little bit of misguided altruism and their loved ones being like, oh, dear, no. Absolutely not.
A found family with a horrible cold making its rounds to every head and nose it can find.
The tall, stoic one is the only one that was lucky enough to stay well. Therefore, all the caretaker duties fell to him. He does this without complaining or even slowing down enough to rest himself.
Finally, the virus runs its course, and things finally go back to normal. Or, that’s what they think.
The group is standing around, talking about one thing or another, when one of them realizes that their caretaker had been too quiet, even for him, and was now making a very strange face.
“Hey, you okay?”
The caretaker finally looks up, and their eyes are shimmering with a thin layer of tears. His nose was an irritated red, and his jaw was set, as if barely keeping something back.
“I’m fiiih…fide. Just a little…duh…huh…!”
He took a sharp breath, pressing his knuckle against his septum, which was covered in mess. He hitched once, twice, and -
“HYESH’SHEEEEEW!”
He sneezed, bending at the waist and his long hair getting in his eyes. Once he tried his best to clean himself up, he still couldn’t quite recover. One of the others put a hand around his shoulders, or perhaps a coat much to big for him, and started to lead him towards his room.
He tried to weakly protest, but they just squeezed his shoulder.
Fell in love with this idea from @onetrickponi and like, sleep deprived brain went brrr cause I wrote this within a few hours. There's just something about this rat man being miserable that inspires me to write.
(As always, please take note that I don’t speak Spanish so the sprinkling of it you see throughout the fic is from searching it up online so apologies for mistakes).
Special Soup for the Soul
Summary: When Bruno catches a cold, the last thing he wanted was for Julieta to find out.
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Bruno didn’t need to see the future to know that it was going to be an awful day.
“Hhh’RSHUE! Hhe’KSHUE! HhhA’KSHUE!”
He’d been pretty much sneezing the moment he woke up. This cotton like feeling in his head, sore throat and awfully itchy nose heralded the beginning of a brutal head cold. This would be his first time getting sick even since his return and already, he dreaded at the thought of Julieta finding out about this.
No way was he subjecting him through that horror.
“Dolores, please don’t tell your Tía about this,” Bruno whispered at one point, eyes watering from the rapidly growing need. “It’ll pass on it own. There’s no need to bo-hhhther h-hhheraaHH’KSHUE! HhhHSHue! HhrSHUE!”
He didn’t manage to quite stifle them, sudden as it was. Bruno muffled a groan, fishing out a handkerchief that had seen better days to quietly blow his nose.
He looked down upon hearing faint squeaks. A bunch of his rats were gathered by his feet, staring up at him with their black, beady eyes. A sudden thought occurred to him.
“Don’t tell Tonito about this too, alright?” Bruno wagged a finger at Rosa, Juanita and Mateo in particular. Those three in particular love to visit his sobrino and chatter away about anything and everything. There were the ones most likely to spill the beans about his current state.
All he received were tilted heads and twitching whiskers. Rosa raised a hindleg to scratch at an itch behind her ear.
Bruno believed they got the memo. Now he just needed to hide and hoped that this cold would pass before Julieta caught wind of it. You could say he had plenty of experience in hiding. So long as he kept quiet (a difficult feat with his notoriously loud sneezes) but he can manage. Only Dolores would hear him and… well, he could only put his trust on her ability to keep this a secret.
It was fool proof.
…Until he remembered today was Sunday. The one day where everyone will gather for dinner and that there was no reasonable excuse to give for skipping it.
Miércoles.
--
It was fine.
Bruno simply had to come down, eat as quickly as he could before hiding away in his room. He can easily avoid talking with his family thanks to his reclusive nature. All he needed to do was blend into the background until he got the chance to leave.
Of course, nothing ever went his way.
He’d been the most nervous with Dolores when he joined the table, helping in setting down the plates. She gave him a pointed look, gave a faint shrug before turning away. It didn’t look like she was going to mention anything so he could relax a bit.
(On her part, Dolores chose to remain quiet because she knew that her foolish Tío would expose himself before long. She heard everything, from the slight flare of his nostrils to the soft, hitchy breaths that he tried to conceal. It was just a matter of time before that nose of his exploded).
And it didn’t take long at all. Bruno managed to dodge most questions and kept attention away from himself but ten minutes into dinner, no amount of subtle swipes or holding his breath could stop the itching, burning need.
The only thing he was able to do was push his plate aside and turned his head away from the table, too consumed to listen to anything but his nose.
He needed to sneeze so badly.
“HhaHSHUE! HhI’TSHUE! HhH’KSHOO!”
“Bruno, what—"
“L-Lo siento, I just ca-hhKSHUE! Can’t seem t-to-ISSHUE! Dios mío! I just—just nee-hhHRS’HUE!” Bruno gave up on trying to talk, given that he can’t seem to stop sneezing at this moment. All he could do was keep his head over the side of the table and aimed downwards, minimizing the chance of spraying the food.
“Bruno, if you were sick, you should have so!” Pepa sounded both frustrated and worried. A grey cloud slowly formed above her head.
“Lo siento…” came the pitiful whisper, drowned out mostly by his pitiful sniffling after the fit ended. He heard the sound of someone getting up from their chair. A brief glance showed that it was Julieta.
“Sit tight. It won’t take long for me to make it.” She gave Bruno an encouraging pat on his back before heading into the kitchen.
“Ohh~ Tía’s going to make him that.” Camilo mock whispered.
Bruno groaned; his worst fears realized.
What Camilo meant by that was something the Madrigals simply called as Julieta’s Special Soup. No one ever really knew what she put into it, only that it both hurt and heal them. Her Special Soup would cure whatever that ailed a person but it left their tastebuds crying after. She can cook some of the best meals in Encanto but this was one dish that everyone (quietly) agreed that they disliked with a passion. If not for the fact that it was more miserable being sick, no one would ever willingly consume it.
The family didn’t have to worry about Bruno making an escape while Julieta went about in making the Special Soup. It seemed that sneezing fit had fully drained him, leaving him slumped over the table with his face buried in his arms. Luisa still kept an eye out in case her Tío still made an attempt but she doubted he could walk five steps without buckling over, let alone reach his room before she caught him.
Bruno suddenly tensed, faint hitches shaking his shoulders before he muffled the sudden fit into his arms.
“Hhh’kshue! HhhsHUe! Hhh’TCHue!”
Various calls of Salud! came from around the table. Bruno simply groaned, sniffling miserably. Mirabel was kind enough to pass him a wad of tissues for him to use. He accepted it with a weak thanks, keeping his face mostly concealed before tucking into himself with his head bowed. He tried to blow his nose as discreetly as possible, trying not to disgust his family from the noise.
Soon, Julieta returned whilst carrying a small pot of… something.
“Eat up Bruno. You’ll feel better,” she said, ladling out a bowlful for her sick brother.
Bruno raised his head slowly, staring at the bowl of brown sludge with barely concealed terror in his eyes. It didn’t look like anything he wanted to put into his body but Julieta will never let him leave the table without eating it.
His eyes flickered towards his family members, hoping for someone—anyone to come save him from this. None of them really met his eyes, instead engaging one another in weak conversation, as if his misery didn’t exist.
Mirabel was the only one who met his pleading gaze. She simply raised a thumbs up, shooting him a sympathetic smile.
He tried not to wail in nasally despair. No one would come to his rescue, it seemed. Bruno had no way out except for ingesting this thing.
Well, he might as well get it over with. After he clumsily threw a bit of salt over his shoulder, he pushed himself into sitting up straighter, leaning most of his weight on his elbows. A trembling hand picked up the spoon and brought it to his awaiting doom. He found that the soup was thick enough to coat the back of his spoon when he had a spoonful.
Ever so slowly, the spoon went to his closed lips. With his eyes squeezed shut, he opened his mouth just enough to tip the sludgy content in. His throat visibly bobbed as he swallowed the soup.
Huh? It… tasted alright?
Bruno’s eyebrows disappeared beneath his hairline. After swallowing that first spoonful, he stared at the bowl before taking another cautious sip. The thought that his blocked nose tricked his tastebuds disappeared when he found that it really didn’t taste bad.
In fact, Bruno sort of actually liked it?
Unbeknownst to his family’s disbelieving gazes, he took another spoonful of soup. And then another. And another. He couldn’t actually identify what exactly made it so palatable to him but he genuinely enjoyed the flavour swirling on his tongue.
Julieta’s magic slowly cured him from his dreadful cold. His headache drew back, finally easing the crease between his brows. No longer did it felt like he was swallowing knives. The warmth helped ease the chill that wrecked his frame all day, too.
Most importantly, that awful itch no longer plagued his sinuses and he could actually breathe through his nose now without the risk of triggering sneezing fits. Now that his sense of smell returned, he could fully taste the soup.
And he still enjoyed it, much to his quiet surprise. Bruno steadily drained his soup till the last drop. He placed his spoon down and released a happy sigh, relieved now that he felt more like himself again.
His eyes had slid shut from the contentment but opened them again upon realizing the long stretch of silence. He found his family openly staring at him in various states of disbelief.
Except for Julieta, who looked pleased as pie.
“Uh… lo siento, did I do something wrong?” Bruno defaulted to an apology; shoulders hunched as he prepared himself for beratement on something that he probably did.
“N-No Tío, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Mirabel was quick to assure him. “It was just…”
“You looked like you actually enjoyed that thing,” Camilo chimed in, earning himself a sharp nudge from Dolores. “Ow! What? I’m totally not the only here who—”
“You enjoyed it hermanito?” Pepa was the one who spoke next, the grey cloud hovering above her head before dissipating in the wake of her confusion.
“Yeah…?” Bruno licked his lips, giving it a moment’s thought. “Yeah. I… I actually enjoyed it.” In fact, he liked it so much that he didn’t feel like eating the food made for dinner. He just wanted another bowlful of the soup to sip at his own pace.
“Can I… have some more?” He tentatively voiced out that desire, nervous eyes flickering from his family to Julieta. She was positively beaming.
“Of course, Brunito! Have as much as you want!” Soon, he had another bowl of brown sludge placed in front of him. Lips unknowingly stretched itself into a happy little smile as he started to dig in with gusto. Seeing him eat reminded the family of their own half-finished dinner. While rather cold by now, the food still tasted heavenly, especially when they paired it with Bruno’s enjoyment of the Special Soup. It was a rare sight to see the skinny man eating anything so heartily.
To Julieta, it felt like all their birthdays rolled into one. She had made it her goal to feed her brother up into a healthy weight upon realizing just how thin he was. While some progress was made, it felt like a battle and a half on some days to have him eat her food. To see him eating something and actually wanting seconds? Despite the whole mess earlier, today was officially one of the best days she had since her brother returned.
Bruno managed to eat one more portion of soup before he felt full. He didn’t expect to pack away that much. Granted it was just soup but he couldn’t recall a time where he ate just one food item to the point of being full. Maybe being sick all day without eating much contributed to this rare show of appetite.
Still, even he didn’t expect to enjoy Julieta’s Special Soup as much as he did. Perhaps his childhood of being her guinea pig fed that particular soup whenever he got ill simply made it taste worse than it actually was. He associated that soup with negative feelings, thus affecting his overall experience.
Or maybe his tastebuds changed after eating mostly bland food for the past ten years. He only ate leftovers for the most part and whenever he did cook, it wasn’t like he had spices to add to his meagre dishes. Anything she made now simply tasted like it was the best thing he had in his life.
“Uh… Juli?” Bruno called out when there was a lull in the conversation.
“Yes, Bruno?” Her attention shifted towards him, as did most of the family. He swallowed through the sudden apprehension.
“I was... was wondering if you could…” He paused for a moment, hoping that this wouldn’t sound selfish. “…make me more of your Special Soup sometime, e-even when I’m not sick.”
The abrupt silence that fell upon them and her surprised look made him backpedal real quick. “L-Lo siento, please ignore that. I don’t—don’t want to put more work on your plate when you’re already c-cooking so much as it is—”
“Cálmate, Brunito.” Julieta quickly assured him in this gentle tone. It certainly helped ease his rapidly beating heart. “Of course! I’ll make more of that soup for you, as often as you want it.” Her warm smile felt like a soothing balm on his soul. “I’m happy to cook anything that makes you want to eat seconds and thirds.”
“Well, maybe not so often,” he replied with a nervous laugh, idly picking at a stray thread from his ruana. “And-- and I think not eating much all day made me hungrier than I thought.”
“Still, that was the first time I saw you eat something so heartily.” Julieta responded kindly. “Anytime you want, Bruno. Just let me know and I’ll cook it for you.”
Her earnest promise drew out a tiny smile from him. Perhaps today wasn’t such an awful day after all.
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Hello I wish to share this thought-- Julieta's cooking can cure illnesses but the recipes are on the weirder side (maybe odd combinations or have to cook something in a specific way) so her family is kind of lowkey scared when they catch a cold or something cause they'd have to be subjected through her special cooking. Now imagine it's Bruno's first time catching a cold since leaving the walls and he's 100% terrified of Julieta finding out cause he still remembers the time in their childhood where he was subjected to her weird recipes (being the sort to catch colds often back then).
General shenanigans as he tries to stay out of her way, all the while trying to keep his coughs and sneezes quiet, knowing that the moment she caught wind, he'd be dragged to the kitchen and forced to eat whatever she made to make him recover
Hoo man, this is giving me a combo of Y/osano (bsd) and O/rihime (bleach) vibes. And lowkey Bianchi vibes (khr)
Also like the idea that Julieta's physical injury healing cooking and her bacterial/viral healing cooking would be different, even if they both target the patient at the cellular level...
Anyways, yeah, the idea of Bruno being terrified of Julieta's Special Soup is hilarious. Maybe he tries to bribe Dolores to not give him away. And maybe if he's real feverish he'll try to bribe his rats not to tell Antonio before he realizes that they're, well, rats.
The only reason Dolores agrees not to tell anyone is because she knows Bruno is going to out himself in the most embarrassing way possible, and she kind of wants to see it play out in hopes that it'll teach him to take better care of himself. She's not disappointed.
Sick or not, Bruno knows more questions will be asked if he doesn't show up for Sunday night dinner, so he begrudgingly attends. Only to have the most epic fail of symptom hiding ever. Nothing screams "headcold" more than having a prolonged sneezing fit into the guacamole (and trying to apologize through it all).
Luisa doesn't even have to hold him down at this point while Julieta makes her Special Soup because Bruno's so tired and groggy and weak that literally anyone can do it T_T
...and then when Bruno finally, finally tries the Soup after all these years he realizes it's not as bad as he remembers. It's...actually kind of good. The rest of the fam is baffled (and more than a little scared) that the one thing they can get Bruno to eat now with no complaint is this. Who knew.
"Bless you." A tilts their head at B. "Those sounded rough."
"They felt rough." B groans and blows their nose ineffectively. "I think I'm coming down with something."
"That'll be thanks to those flimsy excuse for jackets you insist on wearing," A tuts.
B gasps, a little offended. "They're not - My clothes suit me perfectly fine!"
"I didn't say that they didn't," A says. "But in this weather? You need a proper coat, love."
"For fuck's sake, please don't go trying to turn this into a teaching moment," B grumbles. "I'm suffering enough."
"I'm just saying!"
"Yeah, well I could do with a little less of that."
"Alright, fine." A rolls their eyes. "I'm only trying to help."
For a minute or two, the only sound is that of B's soft, persistent sniffling, and a few stray sneezes. Until they blink, and frown, and say, "Love?"
"Huh?"
"You called me 'love.'"
A scoffs. "When have I ever called you that?"
"Never, before now." B quirks an eyebrow. "What's up with that?"
"I didn't mean to." A shrugs.
"Oh, you didn't, did you?" B smirks. "Freudian slip?"
"No! Just a - a regular slip! An accident." A looks embarrassed. "Sorry I said anything, Christ."
B feels smug, but also a little guilty. "I didn't say I minded it," they say, after a moment. "You can call me love, if you... if... hih-" They twist their upper body away from A. "Huhidshh! Oh, fucking ow." They sniff bitterly. "That one kind of hurt."
"Bless you," A says, and then, after a pause, "love."
still not sure if im actually gonna watch this movie but this character sure is cute and has multiple features i enjoy drawing (large nose, dark curly hair, eye bags) so this was fun :3c
I would remind you that a Bruno never goes anywhere near the cracks in the house. You must be thinking, of course, of Hernando.
Bruno had plenty of reason to avoid the cracks. The imminent collapse of the house, for a start; that was something he didn't like thinking about. The falling debris, that was a deterrent too. And, of course, the dust. The shaking and cracking would dislodge plaster dust, along with disturbing years of untouched nooks and crannies. Bruno was not a fan of dust. Too long in a dusty room and his eyes and nose started to water, heralding the arrival of sneezes too forceful for him to suppress.
Luckily for him, Hernando had none of these problems. So, as the cracks began to spread on the night of Antonio's ceremony, Hernando got his bucket and went to work.
The problem was that Mirabel cut her hand. The cracks never appeared so violently or dislodged so much before. Nobody had ever chased them, horrified and panting, and while Hernando cared only for justice Bruno was utterly rapt. His niece, now fifteen, finally living out the vision he had seen all those years ago. The cracks reaching their zenith. He stayed glued to the wall, staring through a crack in the floorboards as she ran.
...Which was why he stayed, panting, staring, for way longer than he should have.
He realised he had made a mistake when he suddenly noticed his nose was running. He made the terrible mistake of sniffing sharply, getting a lungful of dust as a consequence, and he felt a tingle start to develop in his sinuses. But he still couldn't tear herself away. She was running up the stairs, shouting for Abuela, and even if he was invisible to her he would not abandon her.
By the time she reappeared, his nose was twitching. Hernando would never have been this undignified! The problem was, Hernando had Bruno's nose. And right now, a terrible itchy feeling was building up in back of his nose, and his nose was starting to run again. He had to turn away and pinch his nose, trying not to sniffle, but it didn't do anything except make his nostrils start itching violently. He pulled the inside of his ruana over his nose and scrubbed desperately, trying to rub away the feeling, and was rewarded by a sudden hitch in his breathing.
Oh no. Nuh-uh. Hernando did not need to sneeze. Hernando was not troubled by the burning, building pressure seizing his face.
"Show me," said Alma to her granddaughter, and Bruno could tell that it wasn't going to end well for his niece.
Bruno's chest seized, and he tried desperately to hold back the shuddering intake of breath as his breath hitched violently. He pressed his finger under his nose, feeling his eyes sink shut; he managed to stave off the feeling enough to open his eyes again, trying to hold his breath, and press his ear to the crack in the wall.
"The magic is strong!" cried Alma, just like he knew she would, and his heart sank.
He told himself he'd successfully stopped himself from sneezing. It caught him off guard when his chest suddenly tightened again, and before he could help it, he gave a small cry as another violent gasp came over him.
"Hahh—!"
Oh no. That was a louder noise than he'd meant to make. He felt terror grasping him, but luckily, Alma kept talking.
There was no holding back this one, but that didn't stop him trying. He doubled over, a staccato of shakes overtaking him as the pressure in his nose reached explosive levels. "H-heh-heh-hhh— hheh— no no no—"
He was saved by the sound of a piano. He seized the front of his ruana and pulled it over his face, thrown forward violently, and practically howled out a sneeze.
"ESSCHHHUUGH! Ay!" He let out a squeak of pain before he could stop himself. The inside of his ruana was ruined, and he couldn't help a couple of sniffles as he rubbed the cloth against his nose, trying to get rid of the itch. The noise outside was reaching a comforting din, but he still felt the need to pinch his nose shut when he felt another sneeze coming. "Hehssschhtt! Augh..."
He desperately needed to blow his nose. He blinked away tears, wishing he had the foresight to bring a handkerchief with him— well, wishing Hernando had had the foresight, anyway— and doubled over one last time.
"EsschHHT! D-dios mío— eh— ESSSCHHT!"
The itch finally started to fade a little, but at this point he couldn't quite stop covering his face. He had a sinking feeling he'd be spending much of tonight stricken by the dust. It was just another thing that the cracks were doing.
Mirabel, he thought, Whatever you're doing, please hurry.
Outside, the party began to move into Antonio's room, leaving Bruno sniffling and gasping on his own. Deciding he'd pushed his luck far enough for now, he cautiously knocked on wood before starting to shuffle his way back to his room.
"Be more careful next time, Hernando," he muttered, but Hernando didn't respond.
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Ok so I love Bruno being scared to tell people he is sick and not admitting it and hiding it bc he's scared he's a burden, but may I raise you: Bruno being convinced he is going to DIE every time he catches a little cold? Like he's freaking out and his family's trying to console him while he's there like "It's the bad luck! It's finally killing me!!"
OP, has anyone ever told you you're a dammed genius
"You're being a baby," said Pepa, rolling her eyes.
Bruno had more pressing concerns than defending himself. He was wrapped up in as many blankets as he could find, hoping desperately that if he stayed very still and warm, nothing bad would happen to him. He rubbed his nose, sniffling miserably, and said, "You never know."
"It's just a cold! You're ridiculous."
"J-j-just a cold now," he said, eyes wide, "But a cold could turn into anything, like a fever or a plague or— or anything worse! Kn-kn-knock on wood—"
He reached out a hand to the wood on the sofa. Pepa rolled her eyes.
"You do this every time, and every time it is totally nothing. Remember how you got after my wedding?"
He shuddered. "That was bad. Forty-four sneezes total. Bad number. Oof. That could've gone very badly for all of us."
"You deserved to sneeze forty-four times. My wedding dress was totally ruined. And I didn't get sick," she added primly.
Bruno sniffled in response. His nose was getting dangerously runny— how it stayed that way while also being stuffy and blocked he didn't know— but part of him hoped that if he didn't blow his nose, he might trick his body into thinking he didn't need to. He had to sniffle twice, and rub his nose with the back of his hand, before he could quiet himself for a moment.
He was certain he was getting worse. He'd done everything he could— salt, sage, invoking St Blaise— from the moment his throat had started to itch with that terrible soreness that heralded the start of a cold. But try as he might, the itch had turned to a pain, and the pain had turned to a cough, and he found himself jolting awake in the morning with his nostrils pouring and a terrible deep ache in his sinuses. It was the worst type of cold, the type that left him scrambling for his handkerchief every few seconds and plaguing his throat with a dry itchy cough. (Bruno, admittedly, thought this every time he had a cold regardless of how it was.) Bruno was certain that if it was this bad, it would be a whole lot worse if he hadn't been invoking as much good luck as possible.
"Hhh..." Bruno took in a long, shuddering breath. He closed his eyes and groaned, dreading what came next. "Oh... oh no..."
"What?"
From within the depths of his blanket nest, Bruno produced a handkerchief that had probably seen better days. He buried his face in it and blew his nose in three sharp bursts, desperately hoping that if he did, it might stop the buildup that was happening in his sinuses. It didn't, even if it was a bit of a relief.
"How long have you been using that handkerchief?" said Pepa suspiciously. "It's the same one you had this morning. And it's all frayed at the edges. Don't you have a nicer one? What am I saying, of course you don't."
"I don't need one, this one, it's," He paused to blow his nose again. "I-it's lucky."
"Lucky? It doesn't seem to be working very well."
Bruno made a long and unhappy noise and knocked on wood again. The tickle in his nose was still there. He coughed, wincing, and felt his chest start to tighten. He wanted to blow his nose again, but his eyes suddenly forced themselves shut and he tilted his head back.
"H-h-heh— hheh— hhhehsSCCHHUUU! HhhSSCHHUU! HUHSCHUUU!" He moaned. "Augh...! My nose! Th-this isn't fair!"
"Life's not fair, Bruno, especially if you barely wash your hands."
He blew his nose in frantic bursts, coughing into the fabric between blows, and moaned again. He swallowed and his throat grated, feeling swollen and too small.
"Three sneezes. That's not... a bad number." He winced. "But it's not a good number either."
Pepa shook her head. "I'm going to get you a new cloth. No, no protests! That one is disgusting! And I don't care if it's lucky, it's clearly not very good at its job!"
There was a breeze blowing around Pepa as she left, and Bruno wrapped himself back in his blankets.
It was, admittedly, colder when Pepa was around. And she kept making fun of him. But it was still better than being alone, with nothing to distract him from the idea that he was absolutely definitely dying.
She came back in with a small heap of clean cloths and dumped them unceremoniously in front of him. He took one and sniffled into it, admittedly relieved to have something softer and cleaner to use.
To his surprise, he felt a cool hand press against his forehead. She was squinting at him as though annoyed, but her touch was gentle.
"I know you're fine," she said haughtily, "But you should go and wait in bed for Julieta to come. You're ruining the scenery."
Bruno's heart sank. "But..."
She rolled her eyes. "I'll come with you. I know you're going to be fine, but I also know you're too much of a baby to be left alone like this."
There were small clouds blowing around Pepa's head. Was she worried? No... no, surely not. Pepa never worried about him. It would have been frightening if she did.
"Come on then, you lump, move!" she added. "I don't have all day. No, not your tower, I'm not going up all those stairs! Use my bedroom, it will make you complain less."
Bruno paused uncertainly, and looked at her to ask, are you actually fussing over me? But his sister's expression told him exactly what she would do if he tried that, so he kept his mouth shut and shuffled along. He pressed his handkerchief to his face and coughed as she led him up the stairs and through her door.
The bed was warm and soft and dry. It was always blessedly dry in Pepa's room. The only other magical thing about it were the windows; even though the weather in the real world was dry, it was raining and windy outside Pepa's closed windows.
Bruno didn't realise how tired he was until he was lying down, and suddenly it crashed over him like a tidal wave. He looked at his sister and asked, stupidly, "Am I gonna be okay?"
She gave him a critical look.
"Of course you will," she said scornfully, "You idiot."
But she gave a small smile afterwards, and Bruno wondered if there wasn't more going on inside Pepa's head than he would ever know.
He sniffled into his new handkerchief a couple of times, and she sat down on the empty space next to him and crossed her arms.
"Well, go to sleep," she said impatiently.
"But you're still there..."
"We used to share a bedroom," she said scornfully, "I'm sure you can figure it out."
"...Thank you."
A small smile cracked the grumpy look on her face again, and she gave him a glance that was softer and more gentle than before.
"I told you to go to sleep," was all she said, and Bruno, to his surprise, felt okay enough to obey.
can’t sleep and so im thinking about someone who gets turned on by the feeling of sneezing & they’re having really bad hayfever and their partner is teasing them relentlessly about it while they try really hard to not sneeze and also to not get horny (it doesn’t work)
