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If you thought the Madrigals were chaotic before, well. That is nothing compared to the house before a wedding.
It seems as if everyone is in fifty places at once. The casita is a blur of colours and shouts and all you can do is sit there, quiet and amazed in the eye of the hurricane.
Pepa blusters past - literally - near hysterics because she can’t find her good dress. Dolores stands in front of you to protect you from the downpour.
“ Mamá ! Don’t get rain on the bride!”
“ Ay, sorry. Just, where is it? I looked everywhere!” Pepa wails.
“Have you looked on the balcony? I think Félix said he put it out there so that if it was… rainy inside, your dress would be safe,” you offer. Pepa stops in her tracks, clearly not having thought of that.
“Ah, you’re a good one, chica, ” she says, gripping your cheeks in her hands and giving you a kiss on the forehead. She’s a little bit sunnier when she swans out of the room. Dolores rolls her eyes, good-naturedly, and goes back to applying some rouge on your lips.
“You’re such a beautiful bride,” she says, a little jealously, but you know it’s the friendly kind.
“Didn’t your boyfriend propose to you the moment you asked him out?” you grin, and Dolores sticks her tongue out at you.
“This isn’t about me. This is about you ,” the playfulness in her tone subsides for a moment. She takes your hand, which you hadn’t realised had been shaking until that moment, and massages little circles into your palm. “Are you okay?”
As if to bring attention to how anxious you’re feeling, your heart lurches in your chest. You knead your wedding dress in your hand.
“I’m fine. Just… just nervous,” you confess. It seems silly. You want to be married to Bruno, and you want to spend your life with him as your husband. And yet still you can feel your jaw chattering. You guess this is what they mean by wedding day jitters, huh?
“You’ll be fine,” Dolores promises, with such conviction you can’t bring yourself not to believe her. There’s a knock on the door and Isabela pokes her head round.
“Hey, the flowers are d– oh, wow,” she says, eyes wide as she looks you up and down. “You scrub up well, huh?”
Dolores shoots her cousin a look at Isabela tries again: “I mean, you look really nice. I just wanted to say I’ve done all your flowers for you, so they’re nice and fresh for the ceremony.”
You manage a smile. You know Isabela prefers not to use her powers for the… prettier things any more, but she’d readily offered them up when she heard you and Bruno were getting married, promising there would be no cacti involved.
Unless you wanted them.
“Thank you, Isabela,” you say, softly. She gives you a confident thumbs-up and disappears.
You hear the sound of your soon-to-be family gathering in the courtyard. Dolores holds out a hand to you, and you take it, standing up with shaking legs. The cold of the coin in your shoe makes you shiver.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Ready,” you affirm, and it’s time to go to the church.
*
You really weren’t ready for how many people there were going to be. The whole town is there, heading to the church at the same time. Ready for the wedding. Everyone is dressed in their finest, and they hoot and holler as you appear outside the casita , bridal skirts hitched up to make sure you don’t make your dress dirty.
Yet , anyway.
“I could just carry you, if you want,” Luisa offers, her face absolutely serious. You consider this, look at the dusty road to the church, and nod.
“Thanks Luisa, that would be grea–aaa aaa! ”
Luisa picks you up and deposits you on one broad shoulder, keeping you upright with a hand on your waist. Everyone can see you now, and the cheers are threefold as the bride-to-be is hoisted up. A crowd surrounds you, and you’re transported the rest of the way high in the air.
Inside the church everything is covered in flowers. The scent hits you like a perfumery, almost making your head spin. Not everyone in the Encanto can fit inside for the ceremony and the pews are full to bursting, so the main doors have been thrown open so that well-wishers can stand in the sun and watch.
They’re all here for you and Bruno.
Luisa places you down and dusts you off, giving you a thumbs-up.
“Ready?”
Dolores’s voice is in your ear, anchoring you into the moment. You nod and confirm once again:
“Ready.”
The next thing you know, the music is playing, and you’re walking down the aisle.
Everyone’s eyes are on you. The weight of the Encanto feels like it’s pushing you down, pressing you through the church tiles and into the core of the Earth.
You’re trying not to pay attention. Your eyes are only on one person.
Bruno looks wonderful .
You think about how much he’s changed over the best part of this year. He stands taller, like he’s no longer afraid to take up space. The bags that used to plague under his eyes have long since faded after getting regular sleep with you in his arms. And he’s put on a bit of weight - he no longer looks like a stiff breeze will knock him over.
He stands at the end of the aisle, so handsome in his guayabera, hair tied back out of his face in a neat ponytail.
His face lights up when his eyes meet yours, and your heart does a samba in your chest.
He grips your hands tightly when you get to him, standing in front of the priest. Bruno must notice the sweat on your palms, the way tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. Your chest rising and falling so rapidly.
And they’re all staring .
“ Mi vida?”
Bruno is searching your face, trying to find a reason for your nervousness. When your words find your tongue, they’re barely whispered.
“There's… a lot of people here. That’s all.”
Understanding floods your fiancé’s face. He turns to the father, who looks bemused.
“ Uno momento ,” he says, before carefully picking up the end of your mantilla and ducking under it. It doesn’t quite hide the wall of people watching you but you certainly feel a little more alone under here - like you're in some sort of blanket fort together, something a child may make. Despite everything a giggle escapes your lips at the absurdity of this all.
Bruno’s hand is warm in yours when he takes it.
“It’s okay. I'm nervous in front of all those people too. But I'm right here, okay? Right by your side. You aren’t doing this alone.”
He presses your knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly. “And if you’re that worried, we can always bring the padre under here too.”
That really does make you laugh, the idea of the three of you huddled under your mantilla as the rest of the guests look on in confusion. A couple of tears fall down your cheeks in relief, and Bruno thumbs them away for you.
He’s here. He’s not going anywhere. You’re in this together, from now until eternity.
“I can’t believe I have stage fright at my own wedding,” you giggle. Bruno pulls back a bit, ducking out from under the mantilla to make an announcement:
“I’m going to kiss her now! I know we haven’t started the ceremony yet, but it’s important!”
A ripple of good-natured laughter runs through the pews, and Bruno returns to press a kiss to your lips.
“Do you definitely want to do this?” he whispers, solemn for a moment, checking your face for any hint of a lie.
You squeeze his hand back, and tell him the truth.
“I do.”
*
When the ceremony starts, it’s a blur. The vows. The candle lighting. Las arras. But you get through it all with a smile that can’t be wiped off your face, only allowing the happy tears to spill over properly when Bruno kisses you for the first time as your husband.
The church goes wild .
And it fills your heart to bursting: because they’re here to celebrate you and Bruno . Gone is the monster everyone imagined him to be, and in his place is the real Bruno you know. Goofy, kind, and a fundamentally good man.
Back at the casita, the shutters and doors are waving wildly to welcome the newly married couple home, and the celebrations begin immediately.
An impromptu band forms in the corner of the courtyard, people joining and leaving whenever they want to dance or eat. There’s a whole spread of food you imagine Julieta had to be cooking through the night to fix up - you thank her at length, she really is too good to you - and day melts into night.
And even though you’re the centre of attention it doesn’t feel so heavy. Because Bruno is too. The two of you. Together. Your happiness is what everyone is celebrating.
Besides, you don’t have time to dwell on much. Because Bruno is a very good dancer.
“ Bruno!” you squeal as he dips you, signifying the end of the salsa you were just performing. He grins, giving you a quick kiss as he pulls you back up.
“Too much?” he asks. Some of the hair is coming loose from his ponytail. You wrap a lock around your finger and twist it, coyly.
“Maybe not enough,” you muse, your breath hot against his ear. You hear him growl under his breath before bringing you close, ready to dance with you again.
“When I get you alone,” he promises, voice hoarse, and now it’s your turn to grin.
*
You’re exhausted by the end of your wedding celebration, and so, it seems, is the casita - it holds its doors open at guests, encouraging them to leave. It’s probably morning rather than night when you finally flee upstairs with your husband, after saying goodbye to everyone at length.
Pushing the door shut behind you, Bruno holds you against it, kissing you with surprising softness.
“ Esposa,” he mutters, lips tracing down your bare shoulder.
“ Esposo,” you reply, tugging at his shirt to make him take it off. He does before falling to his knees in front of you.
As he begins to lift up the skirts of your wedding dress, Bruno’s breathing comes to a juddering sigh.
“What?” you ask, innocently. His eyes are huge as he looks at you: the white lace panties with the matching corset under your dress, the stockings that stop at the tops of your thighs.
“You’re going to kill me,” he hisses. You laugh, pushing him lightly with the toe of your shoe. Bruno willingly falls back and lets you straddle him.
“You always say that,” you mutter, feeling the way his cock strains in his pants, “and yet you feel perfectly healthy to me.”
“ Ay, ” is all he can muster. You turn around, back facing him.
“Undress me?” you ask. Bruno is powerless to say no, so begins to pick at the ribbons holding the back of your bodice, pulling them open so your dress pools around your waist. You step out of it, slowly, giving Bruno a show as you reveal the pure white of your lingerie. He watches in wide-eyed amazement as you sink back down on him, taking
his hands and letting him pull you up his body.
“ Quiero comerte el coño ,” he whispers into the skin of your thigh. You’re not one to deny your husband. Carefully, he hooks your panties to the side and slips you onto his face. A lusty, relieved sigh tumbles from your lips as you feel Bruno’s tongue begin to run across your wetness, indulging in the taste of his new wife.
There’s a rip and you look down. It’s a bit comical, the way Bruno is looking up at you wide-eyed, your torn panties clutched in one hand. You throw your head back and let out a laugh, thrusting down onto his face as if that is how he is to be punished.
“Guess I’m not wearing those again,” you shrug. To apologise, you feel Bruno’s fingers sink into the flesh of your thighs, and he begins to lick you more earnestly. Your breath hitches, your breasts heave, and your husband clutches your cunt to his face. The night has been full of chained-away promises which have been burning in the bottom of your belly - it doesn’t take long for Bruno’s mouth to find your clit and unlock them.
You grind down on Bruno’s tongue and the roughness of it is the perfect stimulant. You come easily, crying out and panting through your first orgasm of the night. Bruno’s eyes stay locked on yours through the entire time, burning bright as you come from his clever mouth alone.
Boneless, you slide off of Bruno onto the floor, giggling giddily as he starts to kiss up your body. His hands unlace your corset.
“We haven’t even made it to the bed,” you muse.
“Nor do I intend to get you there. Not until you’ve come at least one more time,” he says, and finishes his work. Your corset opens, bearing your breasts to him in the low light of his room. Bruno licks his lips before he bends down to take one nipple in his mouth, teasing the sensitive nub between his teeth, darting out his tongue to lick and soothe the gentle pain he offers you. You buck up and find he’s buried his hand between your legs, pressing you open.
But you don’t want his hand .
“I need your cock,” you groan, throwing your head back. Bruno’s eyes are wide, and then he grins, adding another finger into the soaking mess between your legs.
“Oh? And are you going to ask nicely?”
Bastardo.
You grip onto his forearm, stopping him still, and look into his eyes.
“Bruno, I want you to put a baby in me.”
Bruno’s heart threatens to stop right there. You’re not a hundred percent sure why you said it, if you even mean it, but it has its desired effect. Bruno groans and struggles to remove his pants, a whirlwind of desire.
“ Mierda,” he mutters, stripping himself of what clothing he has left. He takes his cock in his hand and rubs the head against your folds, gathering up the slick he finds there before pushing inside you. One of your legs tightens around his waist, the other is thrown over his shoulder. Bruno leans over you and begins to fuck you in earnest.
“You’re filthy, you know that,” he mutters, one of his hands playing with the stocking on your leg, feeling the difference between lace and hot skin, “we only just got married, and you already want a baby? Huh? You want me to get you pregnant?”
One of your hands shoots out and tightens on Bruno’s waist.
“Y-yeah,” is all you can manage, fuck-drunk from the sound of his hips slapping against yours. He adjusts your angle, bringing you up to meet him a bit better; he fucks down into you so hard you think he might split you open.
“You want me to fill you with my come?” he growls. Your fingers dig into his skin so hard you’re definitely going to leave a mark there.
You don’t care.
“ Dios mío, Bruno! Yes, I want you to fuck a baby into me!” you howl. “I want you to keep going until it fucking takes, until I can see myself growing with you!”
“Then I’ll do it, baby, corazón, mi amor. I’ll pump you full.”
With a bitten-off roar Bruno fulfils his promise, biting into the skin of the leg that you have on his shoulder as he releases hot jets of come into your wanting cunt. The feeling of it, so warm inside, pushes you over the edge and you cry out your orgasm around him.
The two of you catch your breath for a moment. There are stars in your eyes.
“ Jesucristo,” Bruno breathes, your name repeatedly following like a prayer. Eventually, he catches your gaze.
“Do you really want a baby, mi amor ?” he questions, softly. You feel a blush coming over your cheeks.
“I don’t… not want a baby. Is that okay?”
Bruno chuckles, pressing a kiss into the bite mark he left on your calf.
“Me too,” he whispers, pressing his warm, broad hand over your stomach. “ Esposa.”
“Esposo. ”
You do, eventually, make it to the bed.