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estoniacobaltpayne · 2 years

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The Mystery of Your Loneliness

The Mystery of Your Loneliness

Pairing: Bruno Madrigal X GN! Reader

Warning: Angst, Cursing, Mentions of Heavy Drinking and Alcohol

A/N: So this is a semi sequel to Goodnight Sweet Prince, both of these can be read on their own. I’ve been trying to finish this one for forever, so thanks for your patience. I credit Bruno’s birthday on the 17th the inspiration for finishing it. Be warned, as this has some bits that go into the dark depths of Bruno’s psyche while in the walls. Anyways, enjoy.

Dolores Madrigal liked to think of herself as a practical woman. A “don’t ask, don’t tell” kind of woman. After all, 7 plus years of hearing everything someone says or does- down to their heartbeat- tends to wear on one’s ability to care too much about the trivial little “he said she said”’s constantly being tossed about the small Encanto, of which there were many. She’d heard too much, starting at far too young an age, to be bothered with who’s having an affair with who, or the gossip that was spread across the dinner tables of the village.

No, instead, Dolores tended to save the announcements of revelations brought to her attention via her gift for the big things, for the important things. Like when the astonishingly old Señora Vasquez took a tumble off of her one and only porch step again, Dolores knew she’d need to relay the situation to her tía Julieta, who’d rush off with a plate of buñuelos to aid the fallen woman.

Not many things held Dolores’ attention for too long, and it took a lot for her to be surprised by something.

So when she had awoken the morning after her little cousin Mirabel’s failed gift ceremony, she had been shocked to find that she had been taken completely by surprise.

Her tío Bruno had simply… vanished, and it was the first time Dolores ever truly hated her gift. Somehow, in the middle of the night, Bruno had disappeared and because she was in her room when it happened (the only place which granted her relief from the never ending onslaught of noise), she hadn’t heard him slink away. And as the months passed, Dolores watched as the rest of her family and the Encanto began to turn their backs on the hope of finding their lost fortune teller. Their lost tío. Their lost hermano. Their lost friend. No amount of familial pressure, nor no amount of family feuding had ever disappointed Dolores about her family like their willingness- their eagerness- to forget Bruno had. And casita, it seemed, had agreed with her.

Dolores had noticed a whole new set of sounds emanating from within the walls of Casita, bemoaning the loss of a beloved Madrigal. Little creaks, small cracking sounds, even little sighing sounds as the house moved and settled. She’d never heard these sounds coming from within Casita before, but given that the house was… sentient, for a lack of better words, Dolores simply attributed the sounds to Casita’s mourning of Bruno.

It wasn’t until one night about 6 months later, where she had been up much too late, unable to sleep as her mind stirred restlessly with the predicaments her family were facing and fighting about, wandering the unlit halls of La Casa Madrigal when Dolores realised that the heartbreaking little sounds coming from the walls were not, in fact, the house itself. As she descended the stairs and entered the dining room, Dolores heard what she could only assume was someone… moving furniture? And with such a peculiar sound, how could a bright, young 12 year old not investigate?

As she listened more closely, she began to realise that the sounds, aside from the scraping of furniture across the floor, sounded all too familiar. A little “hmm” here, the shuffling of sandals there, and every so often, a “fuck!” hissed under a breath. And a heartbeat. To Dolores, it almost sounded like-

“Tío Bruno?”

Suddenly, all the noises behind the dining room wall stopped. No shuffling, no humming. Only the heartbeat remained, which grew increasingly louder and faster.

“Tío, I know it’s you.”

Bruno was silent for a minute, hoping that Dolores would turn around and walk away; hoping that she’d think she was mistaken and never think back on this moment again, or that she’d wake up the next morning and just assume that this was all a strange dream she’d had. But he knew better. His months of isolation hadn’t ruined his mind yet. Finally, he responded.

“You should be asleep, Dolores.”

But Dolores wouldn’t have that.

“Where have you been? The entire family was looking for you!”

“Dolores-“

“And then Abuela got tired of hoping and she was so angry and she gets mad whenever anyone talks about you now and-“

“Dolores! For someone who can hear to the ends of the earth, I would have thought you’d be able to listen better!”

The young girl was instantly embarrassed. I’ll never talk that much again, she thought. But she was angry. How could he sit back there, hiding from a family that was losing hope in him?

“I’m sorry, Dolores, I shouldn’t have said… Dolores, I need you to do me a favor; promise me that you won’t go and tell the family I’m here. For their sake. If they find out that Mirabel-“ Bruno cut himself off.

“Look, just know that this is for them. For the Encanto. For my miracle.”

Dolores was confused. How could abandoning the family possibly save them?

“But tío Bruno, we can save the miracle if we work together as a family!”

But this time, Bruno didn’t respond. At least- not verbally. Dolores could hear the quiet sobs that her uncle tried to muffle into his hand. She could hear the desperation that shivered down his spine with each shaky breath he tried to take in.

“No, Dolores. Not the miracle. My miracle.”

For a minute, Dolores was only more confused. But as she thought about it more… how could she forget, Bruno’s dearest friend, the one that spent so much time at La Casa Madrigal, the one Bruno had been too afraid to say “I love you” to? The one who had been to every Madrigal birthday and supported her and her brother and cousins their whole lives? The all-hearing girl had always been a hopeless romantic, and she always knew the bond her uncle had with his closest companion went far beyond friendship. Dolores always knew that what her tío and his friend possessed for each other was a deep, understanding, and desperate love. Dolores was pulled out of her pondering when her tío finally gathered himself together enough to speak coherently again.

“We finally told each other, and wow, do we have god-awful timing. Literally right as I was leaving.”

Dolores chuckled, “serves you right for the time you told me I’ll suffer from unrequited love my whole life.”

Bruno scoffed theatrically, “blasphemy! Slain by mine own kin! You put thine own self-serving words into my mouth, girl! Never did such an utterance leave my lips! But lo, I shant deceive thee, that mayhaps I had proclaimed that one day, a gent with whom you may or may not find yourself smitten with, shall propose matrimony unto a maiden yond is not thee!”

The two were resolved into a fit of quiet laughter over Bruno’s goofy Shakespearean acting, and for a moment, Dolores felt like she had her uncle back; that he wasn’t hiding behind a wall that was both literal and figurative.

Unfortunately, the gravity of the situation wouldn’t allow them to dwindle in that moment for long.

“All I have left is this portrait photo from few winters ago. At the time, I thought… I thought I’d have more time to say ‘I love you,’ but… well, we know how that turned out, don’t we? And when I left, I just figured that I’d dragged down the reputation of the one person who really cared about me enough; that maybe, if I was gone, I could give back what my miracle gave to me- a chance at something new. But then we kissed that night and I knew I’d always be a selfish son of a bitch. Oh, sorry! You didn’t hear me say ‘bitch!’ Oh shit, I did it again!”

As Bruno voiced his inner tangent about his cursing in front of his young niece, Dolores started to feel bad for her uncle; but she also couldn’t have been more proud to call him family in that very moment. He’d spent so long chasing after love, be it from his family, his community, or his miracle, only to have love ripped from him when he finally caught up to it. He willingly gave it up to protect everything.

“Can I ask for one more favor?”

“Anything, tío.”

“Can you… update me, from time to time? Just to let me know that everything’s ok. Just to make sure that the light doesn’t die. In either miracle,” Bruno added with a hollow chuckle.

“You have my word.”

Bruno sighed out, “thank you, Dolores,” and looked at the picture to his left. Various belongings he’d brought with him or had snagged when he snuck out at night had been littered across the floor, or piled up on crates he’d stacked up along the walls in lieu of bookshelves. His little room in the walls was disorganised and hodgepodged. But the picture of you he’d told Dolores about was proudly displayed on the only tidy part of the room- the little table he’d made for himself that sat attached to the wall he shared with the dining room. Bruno had placed the photo there, across from his seat where he’d crudely drawn the image of what was his family dinner plate, so as to seem that you were there with him while he ate, smiling not at the camera he had been holding when he took the picture, but at the current him; the Bruno that was hiding himself away. It was a good picture, too. You hadn’t realised he had taken it the time, and maybe you never would. You had stubbornly claimed you didn’t need a sweater that day because “you were never cold.” But then, you were cold, and so Bruno, who’d come thoroughly prepared as he was always cold, swept off the ruana he’d been wearing and angrily slipped it over your head, muttering about how ‘he was right’ and that ‘you should have brought your damn sweater.’ But one look at you, and he knew he’d never blame you for forgetting a coat again; in fact, he swore he’d make sure you’d forget it every time, just so he could keep relishing in the image that was you in his clothes.

But for the present Bruno, the photo was beginning to grow bittersweet; every glance he took at it reminded him of the fact that he’d most likely never get to see your face in person again. He’d never get to be playfully angry with you again. He’d never get to kiss you again. And as the weeks turned into months which turned into years, Bruno found that he couldn’t look at that picture much at all. And as much as Bruno told himself that forgetting you altogether would be so much easier, he knew that for one, he’d be utterly incapable of forgetting you, and two, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And so, Bruno suffered in near silence, save for Dolores’ occasional updates on your wellbeing.

And, according to his niece, you weren’t doing all too bad. You still spent time with your friends and family. You still went to the same bar the two of you frequented together (although sometimes you apparently spent a little too much time there). You still visited Casita to see his sisters and their families; a few times he’d even caught little glimpses of you through the holes in the wall, and it made it so much harder to remain hidden when he did.

But he was never more tempted to leave the walls for you than he was on the night of his 45th birthday. Alma had of course thrown a birthday bash for ‘Pepa and Julieta’ (it was no longer a birthday party for ‘the triplets,’ something that deeply wounded Bruno at first, but as the years dragged on Bruno found himself growing numb to it). The sisters had opted for a smaller affair than normal, with Pepa being suddenly pregnant again and unable to consume the alcohol needed to quell her nerves around large crowds.

Amongst the close friends and family in attendance was you, and with the party mostly taking place over dinner, Bruno got to watch you through the wall for most of the night. Dolores’ remarks about your worsening drinking habits were, to Bruno’s chagrin, true, as he saw you drink enough for both yourself and Pepa. Your drunken charades didn’t go unnoticed either; as everyone else trickled out for the evening, his mother pulled you aside.

“I’m worried about you,” he heard his mother remark to you. He watched as you cast your gaze away towards the wall, anywhere to escape her scrutiny. Little did you know that you were inadvertently staring into Bruno’s eyes through the unnoticed crack he used to peer out of.

“I’m fine, Alma. Just… passing time.”

Passing time until what? Bruno mentally inquired. Alma, it seemed, didn’t need to ask to know the answer.

“I know you had feelings for… him, but I had hoped you would have found someone else to warm your heart by now.”

The air grew stiff. The thickness penetrated even the walls, rooting Bruno to the spot. “Don’t say it” resonated between each of you. Everyone, including yourself, could feel that you wanted to say it, and your pause made it clear you were trying to hold your tongue, but it seemed the alcohol diminished your ability to do so.

“Bold words coming from you of all people, Alma.”

Alma, for her credit, took it far better than Bruno would have thought she would have; less personally than he thought she would have.

“All I meant was that you should seek happiness. That you should start thinking about your future beyond today; beyond this week, beyond this year.” You scoffed, bringing up the bottle of tequila you’d been nursing throughout the evening to take a sip of what was left of it. “But it’s hard to look that far into the future with a bottle of reposado permanently attached to your lips,” Alma encouraged, taking the bottle from your hand.

But you just cast your eyes downward, a far away look looming in them as you slurred your response.

“I spent so long dwelling in the future. For once, I want to just wallow in the past.”

Bruno didn’t miss the double entendre in your ‘future’ comment, and the thread of hope that you’d eventually be happier without him completely unraveled. After all, wasn’t one of the main reasons he’d hidden himself away to give you the chance for better? He spent so long pining after you. He spent so long knowing you loved him too, and spent too long being too much of a damn coward to say it aloud to you. And he almost risked it all in that very moment; almost hacked down the whole damn wall that kept you from him and oh, how it would have been the sweetest birthday gift he’d ever gotten, too.

But then he thought of the vision.

He thought of the miracle breaking. He thought of the house breaking. He thought of little Mirabel trying her hardest but eventually breaking herself.

He thought of you breaking.

And unlike Mirabel, not just in terms of your psyche.

No. No! He couldn’t dwell on that, it would devour him. No, he had to save you.

He could do this, he could stay away. He could save you from himself.

When Alma left the room, you remained behind, staring at the faded painting of Bruno on the family tree.

“Oh, mi amor. I hope that wherever you are, life’s easier for you than it is for me right now.”

You sunk to the floor and sobbed. “Happy damn birthday, Bruno.”

Had you been more sober, you’d have heard the “hush, amor, I’m always with you,” that came from within the walls.

As the next few years passed, you started coming around to La Casa Madrigal less and less, your presence an awkward reminder of what was and what could have been. When you did, you remained vacant; unexpressive and unimpressed, your brows permanently drawn upward in a passive resolve while your lips pulled downwards and deepened the frown lines around your mouth. Your eye sockets were deeper, your cheeks more hollow. Your weight fluctuated and your posture grew increasingly more slouched. But despite all that, your beauty never diminished in Bruno’s eyes.

It was the final years that were the hardest. It was as if he’d completely ceased to exist in not only the eyes of the Encanto, but in the eyes of his family. No one uttered his name, actively avoided it, really. Stories that involved him were not discussed, and any sentiment previously felt regarding him or his disappearance seemed to dissolve entirely. His name felt foreign to even his own tongue at this point, and with the passing years, the characters in the stories Bruno wrote to occupy himself started becoming synonymous with his own psyche; Bruno was no longer just Bruno. Bruno was also Hernando, the brave, the valiant, the suave. Bruno was Jorge, sturdy and practical. He was also Mateo, the laidback friend who always had weed. He was Teodoro, the honest. He was Andre. He was Roberto. He was Alejandro. The one person he was not? He was not Bruno. Never Bruno. Not anymore. Bruno was gone. Gone like… it didn’t matter. Bruno was useless when he was alive. Better off dead. Don’t think about him. He couldn’t scavenge the food at night like Santiago could. He couldn’t work the pipes to make some semblance of a shower like Jorge could. He’d never be good enough, like Diego was. Don’t think about it, shut it out. Shut it out! Keep the house standing. Let Dante write the stories so the rats can have something to do. The rats. The rats! Feed the rats! Another wall needs patching so the magic doesn’t break. Always the magic. Protect it. Protect them, Hernando! Oh, and don’t let Carlo spiral. He spirals. Spiral bad. Get food. Don’t fail them. Don’t fail them, don’t fail them-

“Can someone please just tell me about tío Bruno?”

Bruno, Bruno who?

“We don’t talk about Bruno!”

Yeah, we don’t talk about Bruno!

“Please, I’m going to save the miracle! But I need to know about Bruno if I’m going to do that!”

But the miracle is fine, Jorge patched it yesterday. Spilled spackle powder all over the floor, too. Why does Mirabel need to know about… who?

“If you want to know about Bruno, you should talk to his Miracle. Lives on the other side of town. The green house with the really tall palm tree.”

“Thank you, Dolores!”

Ah, Bruno. The one that belongs to his miracle. Bruno, the hopeless romantic. Bruno, who left to protect his family. Bad luck Bruno. Bruno the broken. Bruno the coward.

It was the first time he’d heard his name- his real name- in so long, over ten years. It was nice, grounding even, to hear it. And as… Bruno, watched Mirabel run off in search of his long lost friend, he felt like himself for the first time in a decade. And it was this clarity that told Bruno that his vision, the vision, was about to come to term. He could only hope he did enough to protect the magic, his family, and you.

Isabela Madrigal liked to think of herself as a cooperative woman. A woman of grace and sophistication. After all, 17 plus years of being everything someone else wants you to be- down to the smallest hair in place- tends to wear down on one’s ability to be anything outside of the preconceived perceptions placed upon them, completely complacent in the “I think you should”’s and “you must be perfect for”’s they’ve heard day in, day out.

But in this very moment, Isabela wanted nothing more than to break her reserve. She wanted to scream, shout, do anything to tarnish the image of her. After all, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that whatever occupied the minds of her father and Mirabel seemed to be more important than her engagement dinner; an engagement dinner she had bemoaned the arrival of, nonetheless. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to marry Mariano. She knew of Dolores’ feelings, and she held no real sentiments of romance toward him. So why not Dolores? But no, it couldn’t be Dolores that he was marrying. It had to be her. And as she watched her father and Mirabel pull strained, tight smiles and hurriedly encourage Mariano to propose, Isabela knew that no one in her family would ever even entertain the notion of her freedom. It was preposterous. Isabela? Her own person? Unacceptable.

Even her own mother was now preoccupied with Mirabel’s secret that Dolores undoubtedly told to the rest of the family. Julieta would never need to be concerned about Isabela; there was nothing to fix. She was already perfect. But Mirabel? Poor Mirabel, the gift-less one, the one that required all of her parents’ attention. Did they not realise that their eldest 2 daughters were flailing? Did they not realise that they needed fixing too?

When Isabela saw the reassembled shards of her long lost tío’s vision, she lost it. Poor Mariano, an innocent bystander of the disaster that was the Madrigal family, as a vine shot out of the ground and smashed his nose in. Of course, it was about Mirabel. Of course, the magic would only recognise Mirabel’s suffering. Of course she’d be the one to break the magic.

But what about everyone else? Was their suffering not enough to break the magic too? What about her tía Pepa, who had to suppress every negative emotion lest she wipe the town away with a wind storm? What about Luisa, who laboured tirelessly and without rest? What about her tío Bruno, who’s unfortunate gift was exploited to the point that he ran away? Did no one see their pain?

No, Isabela did not find it fair. She did not find it fair that, upon a closer look at Bruno’s vision, everyone was terrified of losing a magic that only seemed to create stress amongst the family, and she didn’t find it fair that her tío, wherever he may be, was about to lose everything.

“She’s back! She’s back!”

The cries of scared and flustered townsfolk rang through the air, signalling the return of Mirabel, who’d ran off in the aftermath of La Casa Madrigal falling. The horse sped through the streets, despite the weight of three people. And as Bruno looked around at the town he hadn’t seen in a decade, he was glad to see that most of the town went unscathed from the cracking of the mountain. A few houses here and there had a wall or two fallen in, two houses had even lost parts of their roofs as well. But nothing the town couldn’t pull together and fix. But none of them compared to the absolute ruin that was Casita.

“Mirabel! We looked everywhere for you! We were so worried!”

Bruno watched his sister embrace her daughter, watched on the side as the whole family came together for his mother to apologize. It was all a daze. He prayed that that part of his vision ended up not coming to fruition.

“My miracle… wasn’t at Casita when it fell, right?”

Everyone’s attention shifted towards him. He watched in slow motion as his sisters ran up to him, embracing him for the first time in 10 years. He remembered a round of apologies exchanged between the three of them. But he couldn’t focus. Not now. Not when-

“I need to know, please. The vision… my-“

“Not at Casita,” Mirabel exclaimed, “maybe at home, but not here. Looks like we can’t call you ‘back luck’ anymore, eh tío?”

Bruno wasn’t put at ease. His visions always came to pass, as much as he tried to stop them.

“Then where…” he trailed, his mind and stomach churning. There was a resounding chorus of “who”’s and “what”’s from his family, especially the younger members who did not remember the most important person in Bruno’s life. His sisters tried to pull him back, tried to console him. But his mind was elsewhere. His vision explicitly showed his miracle; showed the crumbling green wall-

The green house!

Bruno raced off, leaving his family confusedly chasing after him.

Bruno always figured the green wall in his vision that tumbled down on you was that of his tower. It would be fitting that he’d be your ruin; after all he’d done to try and tear you down in your youth. But never did he think that it would be your own house. He never thought the house he’d spent so much time in when he was a young adult getting to know you, watching shit novelas and drinking shit wine would have the wall that committed the crime. A home. Your home. The home he’d spent so much time imagining the two of you wasting your days away in, laying in each other’s arms. The home he’d carry you into after your wedding; he wouldn’t want to stay in La Casa Madrigal, no, he’d want his privacy with you. The home where he’d christen every surface with the essence of the two of you on your wedding night, taking you over and over and over again until the two of you collapsed from euphoric exhaustion. The home you’d come back to after long days, just to relish in each other as you got to work on making dinner together; eating together; washing the dishes together. The home where he might even imagine a boy and his younger sister playing in the yard as he hung up the laundry to dry; he always liked the names Joaquin and Naomi. Little Naomi, she’d be his headstrong little girl, she’d have your nose and his eyes and hair. Joaquin, the son he’d be so proud of, the exact opposite in features. The home where he’d have the rest of his life to be with you.

But all the fairytales of this home-to-be came to a crashing halt when he reached your house.

It was one of the two buildings whose roofs had caved in, and the scene was more brutally grotesque than his vision could have ever prepared him for. Two opposing walls had been split by the cracks in the earth, collapsing in on themselves, sending the roof above crashing to the ground. Rebar and wooden support beams were poking out from the broken drywall, and split bricks and shattered terracotta roof tiles littered the ground. And somewhere in all of this mess, was you.

At first he couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there and process. Move, you idiot, you have do something, the one person you could always count on is counting on you now! Bruno thought urgently, but his feet remained frozen. This couldn’t be happening, his vision must have been wrong. Please let it be wrong, just this once!

By this point, the rest of his family had caught up to him, taking in the pile of rubbish that was the fallen house. They knew whose house it was, they knew it’s significance. They knew what was about to come. They told Camilo and Mirabel to take Antonio back up the hill to Casita.

Finally Bruno moved, with the encouragement of his niece Luisa, as she took his hand and helped guide him in the process of cleaning up the rubble.

Bricks were moved, and with the help of Agustin, Luisa, and Felix, the larger chunks of wall were set aside. No stone left unturned. Bruno didn’t think he heard or felt a single thing the entire time they were cleaning up the mess. He was just looking. For a sign. For anything. He needed to find you. You were all that mattered. Sure it was great to have his family back, but he didn’t think that would matter all too much if you weren’t part of the package.

“Bruno,” he distantly heard Julieta say to him, and his heart plummeted to his stomach. Fat, hot tears broke free from their confines and rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t want to look. He saw the vision. He saw the wall that fell and inevitably crushed you. He knew what he was about to see. He couldn’t see this. He couldn’t see you dead.

“I can’t, Juli. I don’t think I can see… not like this.” He shut his eyes tight. He didn’t think he could handle this. It would break what was left of him.

He felt his sister’s comforting hand on his shoulder. “Bruno, I think you should turn around. Open your eyes,” she coaxed. But Julieta knew that her brother, as sweet as he could be, was stubborn. Annoyingly so. And so Bruno remained stalk still with his eyes closed, his breath held and his head empty. He couldn’t face this. He wouldn’t. You were fine. You were still on the stairs of a perfectly fine Casita, in his arms and your lips on his. You weren’t beneath the wall.

“Wow, after 10 years, it should be me standing here refusing to look at you, Bruno Madrigal.”

Suddenly, Bruno’s heart thawed. It couldn’t be…

But then he turned around, and there you were, as if you hadn’t been under the wall at all. Except you had been beneath it, clearly, as bits of drywall and dust powdered your disheveled hair. You had scrapes along your arms, hands, and face, and your clothes had suffered a few tears. But aside from that, you were fine. You were alive.

Bruno could only stand there and gawk, the bottom half of his jaw hanging slack in disbelief.

“But… I saw you! The vision… How?”

“Well, the wall did fall on me, but luckily it collided with the adjacent wall on the way down and it mostly shattered by the time I ducked under my kitchen table. The part of the roof that fell wasn’t even over me, for the most part. Wasn’t too hard to get myself out of the debris, either. Doesn’t say a lot about the quality of my house, though,” you quipped.

Bruno smiled. Your ability to make jokes at expense of the severity of intense situations used to piss him off sometimes, but now it was refreshing. Or maybe it was the way you were smirking at him. It could also possibly be the fact that you, save for a few greying hairs and the years starting to wrinkle your skin, still looked exactly like you. Still stunning. Or maybe it was a combination of all of these things, and it was the entirety of your presence that Bruno found refreshing.

But Bruno figured he could think on these things later. Right now, he had bigger fish to fry. After all, he had been separated from you from 10 years, and Bruno knew he couldn’t wait a minute longer to kiss you again.

And so he started walking over to you. You started walking towards him, but you stride was bigger, and it seemed like you were going to meet him 3/4 of the way.

Like you always did. You met him 3/4 of the way down the bar. You met him 3/4 of the way up the stairs. But Bruno was done with that. He was ready to take whatever this was that had spent so long growing between you all the way. So he ran in order to make the distances the two of you travelled equal.

When he finally reached you he wasted no time in grabbing your face and smashing your lips onto his. Your hands fisted into his ruana and hair, and the hand that wasn’t holding your head in place snuck down to wrap his arm around your back, pulling you into him. He couldn’t possibly fathom what was happening outside of the little world the two of you were in, making him acutely aware of what was happening inside of it. He could feel his tears mingling with yours as your lips melted together. Your lips were just as chapped as his. Your tongue tasted faintly of añejo and orange. Your eyelashes were soft and feathery against his cheeks, and every so often his nose would collide with yours. Your skin was rougher with age and hardship and it was perfect as it rubbed against his stubble.

Bruno was grateful that for once, time seemed to stand still for him. There was no future. There was just now. Now with you.

Eventually, the realisation that most of Bruno’s family was standing behind you seemed to seep into your consciousnesses, so you reluctantly pulled away with embarrassed chuckles.

Bruno wrapped his left arm with your right. “C’mon, I have a prophecy to fulfil.”

You didn’t need to ask to know which prophecy he was referring to.

Bruno didn’t bother turning backwards before he spoke, and with a confidence he’d never used but surely inherited from his mother, he addressed his family.

“Julieta, run to the jeweller’s shop and pick up that pair of gold rings she has in the window but no one ever wants to buy because they don’t like that the bride’s band has an emerald instead of a diamond. I know she hasn’t sold them, they’ve been there as long as we’ve been alive.”

The Madrigal family stood stunned and confused. What was Bruno on about? Surely there were more pressing matters at hand than jewellery. But Bruno continued.

“Felix and Agustin, go to the tailor’s and get me a guayabera. Something smart but comfortable. Oh, and a new pair of pants, these have more holes than the sky has stars,” Bruno laughed as he began to lead you towards the center of town.

“Isabela and Dolores, go with them. Find the most stunning garment for my Miracle to wear, and maybe some flowers. Mama and Pepa, go back to Casita and get the kids. Luisa, if you could, run ahead of us and fetch the Father; you’re the fastest runner. Tell him we’re on our way and to have everything ready for us.”

Pepa spoke up first. “Bruno, what is going on?”

The prodigal son only looked at you and smiled.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re getting married.”

The rest of the family stood in excited silence.

“But... why now?” Alma questioned.

Bruno only pulled you closer, and you looked at him with pride and love in your eyes.

“No time like the present.”

#bruno madrigal x reader #bruno madrigal #bruno likes tequila #reader likes tequila too #encanto #encanto fanfic #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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nellycanwrite · 2 years

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So my great-grandmother was superstitious and one of her beliefs was in you plucked one gray hair, three would grow back. So what if Bruno's wifey, who'd love to see him with gray hair, plucked his first one to excitedly show him, and now they're playing a game of chase because wifey wants to find more but Bruno doesn't want gray hair

Eyo Anon! It’s actually pretty cool since my mom has similar supersitions as well! She never liked us plucking her gray hairs since she thought they’ll multiply too! But my dad has other plans with the his gray hairs—he paid us 1 Peso for every strand we pluck out, so it became our favorite pass time when I was a kid XD

AND THE IDEA IS SO CUUUTE AAWWW <3 Imagine them having an all out war on that HAHAHAHAHAHA With that, I give you: this little piece!

⧖ ⧗ ⧖

Gray Hairs

(Bruno Madrigal x GN!Reader)

If there was anything that would describe Bruno Madrigal, it would be superstitious. It’s a known fact in the family. Even the whole town knows about his superstitious rituals!

It was just like any other day; swaying palms, clear skies, and a nice summer’s breeze had lulled Bruno into a peaceful slumber on a hammock just outside the Casita. It’s been so long since he had a proper siesta, and what other time than to enjoy the lazy afternoon when Julieta has so graciously offered to take the kids to help her with the stall of healing remedies in the town square? It was rare for him to have spare time these days, especially when he and you were the designated babysitters for all the kids.

You had just arrived from hanging the sheets that you had meticulously laundered, carrying around an empty basket while wiping your damp hands to your apron. You had to stop, however, when you spotted your darling husband peacefully napping under the shade of palma de ceras—where the comfy hammock was tied on the barks while the summer draft swayed him to and fro. He was adorable in every means; his little snores, the way his nose scrunched when a few petals from a nearby tabebuia tickled him, and the way his normally fidgety hands were laid at rest on the side of his head like a makeshift pillow.

You decided to approach your husband quietly and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear when you noticed a streak of gray amidst his curls. You knew the both of you were growing old—thirty nine, to be exact—but to already have gray hairs at this age? Now that’s just a bit too early.

Just as soon as you had reached out to pluck the gray strand out, his eyes fluttered open. He looked confused. Dazed. It was understandable, really. He just came from a pleasant nap after all.

“Hola, tonto. Had a nice nap?” You asked cheekily. He tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

“Wha–what—? What are you doing?” He asked, confused. You chuckled and gave his cheeks a kiss, his stubble tickling your lips every so slightly. You heard him sputter out in surprise.

“Sorry if I woke you, but I didn’t know you were getting this old,” you laughed while plucking the strand from his head. He yelped and squirmed from his hammock, managing to tangle his arms and legs together in his haste to catch your retreating hands. He was proven unsuccessful with his attempts when he fell face first into the grass below. You remained undeterred while you waved around the gray strand with a grin, leaning your weight to the side with the laundry basket poised under your arms. “See? Getting old.”

“A gray—a gray strand?!” He exclaimed, clumsily rising to his feet. His ruana whipped around him with the intensity of his rising, but it soon backfired on him when he fell a second time. Whether it was because he stood too soon or because of his own clumsiness was beyond you. But you found it adorable nonetheless. He shuffled up his feet while using the hammock to balance himself (a wrong move, you noted. He was wobbilly all over) and leaned forward with furrowed brows. “And you—and you plucked it out?!”

“You’re only thirty-nine, amor. Way too early to have a gray strand. I just did you a favor.” You had to hold a snort when he gave you the most offended, most incredulous look on his face.

“No, no, no! I’m going to get more gray strands now that you plucked it out!” He exclaimed, his eyes wide and wild. Filled with a sudden sense of mischief, you felt yourself grin excitedly. You put the laundry basket down and raised the strand of gray hair eye level to you and Bruno while giggling.

“Can I look for more gray hairs? Please~?” He scrambled away from you and raised his arms in defense, covering his head with the hood of his ruana while he did so.

“No! Absolutely not! I don’t want any more gray hairs!”

“Oh hush, that’s just a myth! I wanna look for more gray hairs! Pleeeaase?”

“No!” With a panicked—almost scared—huff, he ran inside the Casita to escape your mischievous whims. He knew once you had your mind set, you were never going to let him go until you were satisfied. Despite the headstart Bruno had in this impromptu race for his life, you immediately chased after him while waving that one gray strand proudly around the air.

“Come on, amor! Pretty please? It won’t hurt a bit!”

“L-look, I love you and all, but I won’t let you pluck more!” He scrambled his way to the kitchen and stopped at the other side of the table. He positioned his arms ready at both sides, anticipating your next move. You mimicked his pose and stared him down determinedly.

“Don’t make me ask Casita to help me catch you!”

“Try me!” When you moved yourself a bit to the left, he immediately dove right. When you moved to the opposite side, he shuffled his way away from you. This process repeated for a ridiculous amount of times.

“Pleaaase? It would make me so happy if you just let me find more!” You tried to plead again. He shook his head and pulled his hood further down.

“If you continue plucking out my gray hairs I’d have a head full of it after!”

“That’s just a myth!”

“No it’s not!”

Needless to say, you had to rope the kids into your schemes to hold their tio down after dinner whilst you and your cute little niece and nieces plucked out gray hairs from Bruno’s head.

And he was not happy with it.

But seeing the grinning faces of his niece and nieces when they got a coin for every gray strand was worth the struggle.

#bruno madrigal x reader #bruno madrigal #encanto #encanto bruno #we talk about bruno #disney #tio bruno #bruno my beloved #nelly answered #answered ask #writing prompt #bruno madrigal imagines

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between-the-lines-fic · 2 years

Text

Between the Lines - Bruno Madrigal (Modern AU) Chapter 13

Summary: Bruno Madrigal is a popular telenovela writer, though he keeps his identity secret under the pen name Pedro Oscar. You just happen to be a big fan of his who’s doing their laundry while a telenovela plays in the background.

Pairing: gn!Reader x Bruno Madrigal

Words: 1,645

Warnings: None!

Chapter count: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 (More to come!)

Available on: AO3

Mirabel and her abuela take the lead as you descend the stairs from the roof, leaving you plenty of time to silently wrangle your mixed emotions. They writhe and buzz beneath your skin, forming a nameless tangle of thorns in your chest while Bruno walks ahead of you, falling in step with his mother.

He looks so happy like this, chatting away at Mirabel and Señora Madrigal. Though his dips into the conversation are shy, he’s gaining back confidence with each shared joke and comfortable quip. Their words bounce uselessly around in your ears, unheard as your feet carry you just three strides behind.

It’s good that he’s happy. That his mother wants him back. It’s a good thing that you didn’t have to fight tooth and nail against this woman, that Mirabel and her family seem to have begun their healing. It isn’t any of your business, especially since Bruno seems willing to let bygones be bygones.

So why is there this nameless snake in your chest, constricting your heart and pumping venom into your throat?

“Mirabel!” the woman you remember as Julieta cries as Mirabel comes to the bottom of the stairs, rushing forward to envelop her daughter in a tight hug. “Oh Mira, we were so worried when we couldn’t find you. Are you alright?”

“Mom, I’m fine,” Mirabel laughs off the question on instinct, though she winces a second after and amends, “Well, I probably need to clean my hands.” Julieta lets out a long-suffering sigh, pulling away to cradle her daughter’s hands in her own, and you look away politely as she begins to fret over Mirabel’s health. A taller, seemingly distinguished man hurries over only seconds later, his glasses, but more importantly, his clumsy fumbling is a familiar pattern to your eyes. It’s an easy leap to assume this man is her papa, or at least someone like that.

“Ay Mirabel, we looked everywhere. There were so many mice and spiders,” he shudders violently, whole body cartoonishly rippling as if the man were a cat rather than a human with a spine. The reaction gets a sympathetic laugh out of Mirabel and an exasperated sigh from her mother.

“So how are we going to perform without a stage?” Someone’s voice cuts through the happy reunion, only to be shushed with exasperation by an older man. The young teen in a bright yellow sweatshirt seems to bristle at the response. “What, I can’t say that we don’t have a stage? What’s that? Not a stage!”

You only give the kid a haphazard glance before Mirabel just shakes her head and walks over to the shattered chandelier and stage. Though the majority of the chandelier is lost to shards of crystal, the lone candelabra that makes up the very tip of the chandelier has somehow managed to survive the fall. Mirabel pries candelabra free with a wince as the people around her gasp, before presenting it to her family with a surefire smile.

“We do what we’ve always done. We bring the show to the people.” She says it with such utter confidence, you almost find yourself believing her despite the clear evidence to the contrary. “The Madrigals used to be a traveling troupe. We’ll just perform somewhere else until we can get the theater up and running again. Right Abuela?” And then that confidence wavers, Mirabel looking back into the stairwell where the three of you remain just barely out of sight, her smile trembling at the edges as she holds this beloved family heirloom in bloodied hands. She’s so small, her fingers gripping this sculpture of brass and gold that’s almost as large as her head.

Bruno and his mother freeze in the shadows, each showing a different kind of hesitation while they watch Mirabel reunite with her family. Their family, you mentally correct yourself, eyeing both of these people who stare at their loved ones with such trepidation that it’s almost painful. Señora Madrigal clutches her hands close to her chest, a deep frown lining her lips, and she looks so much like a younger version of your Abuela that the pain in your chest swells and threatens to spill into your silence with a lump that you swallow down. Another memory strikes you like a punch to the sternum, raw and unyielding.

You’d been so furious with yourself when you broke Abuelo’s radio. You really hadn’t meant to break it, but your favorite band was going to be playing on the radio that day and you had been trying to tape a copy of their song for weeks. It was an antique, weathered thing with delicate dials and a finicky antenna, but Abuelo always seemed to know how to turn it just so, eternally patient and loving with the radio he had bought Abuela for their fifth anniversary. He was at the shop today though, and Abuela was too busy cooking dinner to sit by the radio and help you. The awaited hour crept closer and closer, and when you couldn’t get the dial to turn to the right station, you twisted and snapped it off in a panic.

The radio was too old to have any replacement parts lying around in local repair shops, and the places that could claim to fix it were far too expensive for Abuelo’s budget. It was just your luck that Abuelo chose to come up to check on the house.

His warm voice cut through the air like a knife, “Estoy en casa-” he said, only to stare you down with a horrified frown while you held the snapped-off dial in your hand. You still remember the way dread pooled in your stomach, hot tears clouding your vision as you ran to your room and shrunk under your covers. Abuelo didn’t even call after you. All you heard was the soft click of a shutting door, and footsteps down the stairs to the shop below. A spiral of guilt, embarrassment and regret dragged you further down into your hiding spot, the snapped knob of the radio dial clenched painfully tight in your hand.

Abuela found you not long after, a gentle knock on your door. “It is never easy to apologize nenúfarité,” she had said, pulling you out from your self-imposed punishment into a firm hug that was just as warm as your bed, “because you see the hurt in the other person’s face, and know that you are the one who caused it. It can be difficult to face that, but we must if we want the hurt to get better. You must see the wound before you can bandage it, hm?”

Grief, anger, and an alien sense of compassion wrestle with one another for control, leaving you frozen to the step as Abuela- no, Señora Madrigal steps into the light, expression wobbling with unshed tears. Bruno almost reaches for her as she moves forward, and that makes the anger flare violently, a reminder of his loneliness that you’ve seen over the year that you’ve known him-

“Of course, Mirabel,” she replies, a watery smile finally pulling at her lips as she walks over to her granddaughter, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Mi familia, I am sorry. I see, now, that I held on too tight. I was so afraid that I would lose you, that I hurt you all.” she says, hands clasped together in front of her chest.

“Mama,” Julieta murmurs, her expression creased with concern. But Señora Madrigal holds up a hand to halt her, and she takes Julieta’s hands into her own. She reaches for another woman, the stressed one in a yellow dress that had snuck by you before. Pepa, you think.

“No, mis hijitas. I was wrong. I can deny it no longer. There has been too much pressure on you from me to ensure our Encanto stays afloat. I worried for so long about our safety through the business that I forgot what it was all for.” She turns again to her granddaughter, her smile faint with guilt. “So you all could live happy and long lives, even without my Pedro. I lost Brunito to this. I almost lost Mirabel to this. I will lose no more of you.”

Bruno covers his mouth to stifle a gasp into a cough, and the rest of the gathered family squint into the dark stairwell. “Tío Bruno?” Mirabel halfway pleads in your direction, and you watch as the love of your life visibly struggles with whether or not to reveal himself to the people he stayed away from for an entire decade. “I know you’re there. Please, Tío.”

“Mi vida,” you murmur soft enough for him alone to hear, “go to them.” But your feet stay firmly planted in the carpet, the swirl of emotions weighing you too much to even consider going with him. It’s as if a physical line separates you between the safety of this shadowed staircase and the light of the hallway beyond. This isn’t your reunion. And you can barely even bear to be in the same room as that woman right now, let alone a whole extended family.

Bruno glances back at you, eyes wide with worry as he glances between his family and you. Then, as if sensing your hesitation, he holds out a hand to you, still silent. For a moment you consider not taking it, pulling away from this place altogether and somewhere safe, but then you look back up at his face, and your resistance crumples.

There are tears in his eyes, and you know with a sudden surety that he wants this more than anything. Most importantly, he wants you to be a part of it. And how could you ever say no to that?

Pulled by his hand, both of you step beyond the line and into the light of the corridor.

#bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno madrigal x reader #encanto au #encanto bruno #encanto Bruno X reader #between the lines fic #surprise #I'm not dead

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tokoyamisstuff · 2 years

Text

Masterlist: Other Characters

💀 = Angst and/or Adult Themes 🌸 = Fluff 💌 = Personal Favourite 🔥 = Smut 🎵 = Song Fic / Contains Lyrics ✅ = Finished Series ❌ = WIP/Hiatus

Each and every Work has it's own detailed Warnings listed.

Doc Ock / Dr. Otto Octavius (Marvel)

Weapons Don’t Weep 💀 🌸 🔥 💌 x Fem! Reader❌ During the events of NWH, Otto finds refugee at your doorstep. (18+)

Reiner Braun (Attack on Titan)

Calling Out Your Name 💀 🌸 🔥 💌 x Fem! Survey Corps! Reader ❌ Your family got killed by the Armored Titan and you join the Survey Corps to seek for revenge. (18+)

Habromania (18+) 💀 🔥 x Fem! Eldian! Reader In which Reiner has kidnapped you during the Recapture of Wall Maria and brings him back to Marley with him. (18+)

Julian Devorak (The Arcana)

Stress Relief 🌸 🔥 x Fem! Reader Julian is too busy with work to spend time with you, so you get back on him. (18+)

Hisoka Morow (Hunter x Hunter)

Just My (Blood) Type 💀 🌸 x Fem! Ghoul! Reader Reader tries to ignore her attraction towards Hisoka until they realize that you weren’t all that different.

Illumi Zoldyck (Hunter x Hunter)

Betrothed 💀 🌸 🔥 💌 x Fem! Assassin! Reader ❌ An arranged Marriage between you and the eldest child of the Zoldycks will soon turn into a both dangerous and passionate love. (18+)

Experiment 💀 🌸 🔥x Fem! Reader Being too shy with intimacy, you ask Illumi to use his needles on you, so you can dare the next step. (18+)

Bruno Madrigal (Encanto)

Heimish 💀🌸💌 x Fem! Reader ❌ Arranged Marriage AU where Bruno gets the love he deserves.

El tiempo lo cura todo 🌸x Fem! Reader A very unlucky reader asks Bruno for her future and he sees them being together some day.

Gyutaro Shabana (Demon Slayer/Kimetsu No Yaiba)

Famished💀🌸x Fem! Sex Worker! Reader Gyutaro remembers someone who was kind to him in his human life and pays her a visit.

Hotaru Haganezuka (Demon Slayer/Kimetsu No Yaiba)

Sugar Shock 🌸x GN! Candy Shop Owner! Reader ❌ Hotaru decides to shoot his shot and asks you to be his wife. Based on a Fancomic. [Ch. 1] [Ch. 2] [Ch. 3]

Multifandom

[Read here] 💀 Multifandom x GN! Reader Types of Yandere

[Read here] 🌸 Demon Slayer x GN! Reader HC’s about what petnames would the Pillars give you?

[Read here] 🌸 Soul Eater x GN! Reader HC's for do some of the Soul Eater characters behavior when jealous.

[Read here]🌸 One Piece x GN! Reader You get Shanks, Buggy, Mihawk and Kuro a cat. This is how they react.

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naoko-world · 1 year

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One day I felt VERY bad and had suicidal thought. So I wrote my thoughts...Intended to have it with Mirabel but finally Bruno seemed more fitting for it. But I didn't wanted to have Bruno killing himself...So I decided to make it a Bruno x reader and make a good ending. Then, I thought it was perfect for day 27!

I don't think I'll ever do that again though, I don't read them because any suicidal topic is triggering for me and this time I just needed to vent my feelings. And any new fic about these feelings would just be an unnecessary repeat. And I prefer writing stories without this kind of topic, this time was really exceptional.

Don't forget me @encantober-official

Encantober day 27: Comfort (suicidal thoughts + suicidal attempt)

Bruno was crying with hot tears. Again, his gift had made his mother apologize to another person, because Bruno was once again overwhelmed by his emotions and gave another bad vision. He should have known better, like Pepa who found a way to avoid making it rain.

He was on the edge of a window in the second floor, his palms on the windowsill, looking at the outside. His perfect sister Julieta was near a stand of food, using his power to heal a man covered in bruises. Behind him was another man with cacti all over him Bruno was often seeing. His teary eyes grew bigger seeing who was further in the queue, making him want to hide. He couldn't let you see him like that, not now. He didn't want you to ask what was the problem, to make you say meaningless things to him as if you meant them. He knew it would only serve as making him feel better, some sugarcoat lies because it was the right thing to do.

You smiled at him, making him blush before turning away, embarrassed. You were so pretty and perfect and he was ugly and flawed! You would never want to be with him. Not that it would be in your best interest either, you would be unhappy with him. You deserved someone awesome, not a complete jerk often hurting people.

He stared far away, watching the world turn without him, thinking how everything was peaceful when he wasn't doing anything. It tells a lot.

Bruno finally tried climbing on the windowsill, realising doing so he was agile enough to actually be able to sit on it. Watching to be certain nobody was seeing him do so, he was about to jump when two arms on his sides prevented him from falling, like he intended.

He glanced behind him to see you taking him in his arms, pulling him from his death. You shushed him with some words like "it's okay" or "you can stay in my arms until you feel better".

He nodded, crying once again in your comforting arms, his heart pounding because of fear, but also because of the love he had for you. His arms mechanically circled you, hoping to enjoy your hug as much as possible.

The both of you stayed in that position not saying much, no words shared besides the warmth of each other's touch. It felt so good! You were proving again how perfect you were.

He finally said in a whisper "I love you", which he immediately regretted. You'd probably laugh at him and call him a creep.

Instead however, you replied "I love you too. For a long time."

#encantober #encanto #bruno x reader #bruno madrigal x reader #bruno x gn!reader #comfort #encanto ficlet #encanto drabble #encanto fanfic #my writing #tw suicidal thoughts #tw suicidal attempt #cw suicidal thoughts #cw suicidal attempts

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crossroadsserpent · 2 years

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Would anyone be interested in seeing a Bruno Madrigal x GN reader? (Because I'm lowkey still obsessed with Encanto and I really wanna write a few shorts for him)

#bruno madrigal #encanto #x reader #x gn reader

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ilovekazuhaa · 2 years

Note

Oops...

Succession to this, this, and this.

The family talks about mishaps while using their gifts. Inspired by a post I saw of the triplets having much worse scars but idk where it is so if anyone can find it and link it that'd be greatly appreciated!

Madrigal Family x gn!reader(familial)

Warning! This chapter contains mention of scars and nasty accidents! If that's not you're thing keep scrolling.

---

You were working in your room. A part of your project was bothering you, so you brought out some of the tech in your room to test. Leaving it run while you made a list of variables to test.

CRACK!!!

Searing pain shot down your spine, leg and arm on your (non-dominant) side. You yelled because that is a reasonable reaction to whatever the hell happened.

You checked the damage, spiraling burn marks ran down your arm. You pulled your hand away from the desk, revealing a hand-shaped burn mark and further marks running down the desk's leg.

Electrical discharge.

The fact you could still feel and move your arm and leg meant there wasn't any nerve damage, at least. But you figured you should at least go get some food from Tia Julieta, as the parts in question still felt tingly.

---

You find your Tia in the kitchen. She just started preparing lunch. "Hey, Y/n! Getting hungry?" she pondered.

"Getting hurt." You replied, holding out your arm.

Julieta wipes her hands on her apron, holding your arm gingerly.

"Ay, Y/n... Did you forget to turn something off?"

"You could say that."

She walks away, coming back with an arepa, pressing it into your hand. "Here. Eat up, Mijo."

You took a bite, and while the tingling faded, the scar remained.

"Um, Tia...?"

Julieta, however, wasn't concerned. "You really are part of the family, huh."

Your confused silence prompted her to explain.

"Surprising as it may be, every Madrigal, gift or no, has had a mishap within a year of their gift ceremony, leaving something that doesn't quite heal right." She displays her left hand to you, and you notice the tip of her index finger is... Well, squarer than the rest. "That happened literally the next day. Abuela was teaching me how to cook, funnily enough." she giggled like it wasn't that bad, but you just stared in a weird mix of awe and disbelief.

"You guys talkin' about gift scars?" You hear Bruno, and spin around to see him poking his head in through the doorway.

"Gift scars?" You're only further confused.

"Yeah, everyone in the family has one."

You hear Julieta sigh as she steps into view, "Bruno has this theory that the magic is "getting used" to you and gives you a scar as a reminder of how dangerous your power can be if you're not careful. But it doesn't explain how Mira, Felix, Augustin and Abuela got theirs despite not having gifts." She emphasized each name with a flick to Bruno's shoulder.

"That doesn't mean it's not a big adjustment! A new person is joining the family, lots of uncertainty."

You glance between your Julieta and Bruno, and decide to leave them to arguing about the semantics of the arcane. You had things to do, anyway.

---

An hour later finds you by the riverside, helping Isa set up a raft to grow aquatic plants on. You'd swapped your pants for shorts and had rolled up your sleeves, so of course she was going to notice.

"So you got yours too, hm?" She asked, planting a bundle of basil in one of the raft's baskets.

"That was oddly nonchalant, the way you asked."

"Doesn't answer my question, Y/n."

You sigh. "Yeah. Left something on while workshopping."

...

"Do you have a gift scar, Isa?"

"Ugh. Don't tell me you actually believe Tio's theory." she groaned.

"I don't!" You reply quickly, "I just don't have anything else to call it."

Isa hums, "Well, I do, to answer you question." She steps her foot onto the raft, showing her ankle to be slightly swollen, "Turns out, I'm allergic to daffodils. The other one's like this too."

You wince. "That's... Good to know though! Just because you can grow it doesn't mean you should in case of, like, an allergy or something." You tried to be positive, you really did.

---

After lunch, you and Dolores were reading together in her room. She had a book you would call a classic, and you had a book from your time that the miracle was able to conjure up for you.

...

You notice the silence is a tad heavier.

You hear Dolores squeak, and she flips to the next page.

"Yeah, I got a scar from my gift." You say.

She squeaks again, "I didn't want to bring it up, you sounded so... Conflicted about the whole thing."

"Well..." You mark your page and close the book, "If it's just another part of proof I'm a Madrigal, why question it at this point, si?"

"Yeah..."

...

Dolores pipe up again, "Y'know, it's hard to get a scar with a gift like mine. But I have one."

You glance in her direction, "Really?"

She nods, pulling up her skirt to show a darker-colored patch on her knee. "I got distracted by a cart giving out and tripped. My hands got roughed up too, but they healed completely."

You hummed in thought.

---

Dinnertime rolls around and you're at the table, wondering about the rest of your family's scars. But at the table feels too impersonal, so your musings are kept to yourself.

Antonio spends a lot of time with animals, that jaguar has to have gotten too excited at one point.

Camilo can shapeshift, so if he's got a scar he's probably hidden it that way.

You can clearly see the mark of a stray bolt on your mom's shoulder.

Your dad probably has something similar, just in a place you can't easily see.

You never saw Bruno's scar, but it more than likely came about due to how much glass he handles, accidentally cutting himself on a vision.

Luisa... Her gift is super strength, right? A gift like that's bound to make one careless.

How the non-magical family members get scar clearly related to magic, you can't tell. But you notice Abuela has a scattering of irregular dots on the back of her hand, undoubtedly from her first year as keeper of the magic. Something from the house more than likely.

Mirabel doesn't have any scars that you can see, but who knows?

Augustin's face has a smattering of dark pinpricks. The bees never seem to give him a break, it seems.

"Y/n?" Abuela asks.

You startle, "Eh, yes Abuela?"

"Why are you so pensive, Hijo? Is something the matter?"

You think for a moment, "Er... No. Nothing that should be asked here."

...

"Very well, then. But if it's still bothering you, you just say something. Alright?"

You nod, and go back to eating.

Yeah, it's way to personal a question to ask at the dinner table.

bro this is such a cool idea i love your writing so much and i can’t get enough of it!!! literally screamed when i saw this in my ask box LMAO i know exactly which post you were talking about the second i started reading it’s this one. i love the way how this is so thought out and how the family interacts and it makes me realize i miss the abundance of encanto fics :(( but seriously this is SO amazing like how reader got their scar and how everyone else’s scar is also revealed too is just so ahhhh! you should write more, you have a talent for this!

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stitched-mouth-vs-the-world · 7 months

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Welcome to Stitched's first Kinktober! I'm very excited to share what's in my drafts as I am very proud of myself for once. Chapters will be posted midday (BST) everyday, chapters that have been missed thanks to Tumblr will be posted today as soon as I can. If you can’t wait go to my Wattpad or AO3. Here's a run down of what to expect in this book:

Day 1: Master’s Whore (Creampie Kink)

Summary: Vincent Phantomhive fucks his maid just a room over from his 'happy' family.

Vincent Phantomhive x Fem! Maid! Reader (Fic)

Day 2: Making Porn With The Number One Pro Hero (Amateur Porn)

Summary: You had a sex dream about your boyfriend, the Number One Hero, All Might wants to make that fantasy a reality after you punch another All Might slut in the face.

All Might x Younger Fem! Pro-Hero! Reader (Fic)

Day 3: Being FWB With Ramona Flowers (Casual Sex)

Summary: Imagine being FWB with Ramona Flowers.

Ramona Flowers x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 4: Before Her Show (Behind The Scenes Fucking / Affair)

Summary: Imagine secretly banging the World's biggest singer.

Envy Adams x Scott's Sibling! GN! Reader (Imagine)

Day 5: Mommy’s Sweet Praises (Praise Kink)

Imagine Layla El Faouly with a major Praise kink.

Layla El Faouly x GN! Reader (Imagine)

Day 6: In The Dark Of The Night (Demon Fucking)

Summary: After arriving at and joining a Covent you so didn't want to join, Valak takes an unusual liking to you.

Valak x Nun! Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 7: Just For Research (First Time)

Summary: When Rick discovers his top student is a virgin, he knows he must change that so she can write her paper on human pheromones.

Rick Sanchez x College Student! GN! Reader (Fic)

Day 8: Inappropriate Workplace Behaviour (Office Sex / Boss x Employee)

Summary: Lord Death can't stop jacking off to his decades younger secretary.

Lord Death x Younger! Secretary! Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 9: Naughty Girls Are Punished (Spanking)

Summary: Georgia decides to teach her mischievous girlfriend a lesson.

Dom! Georgia Miller x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 10: Hot Ice (Temperature Play)

Summary: Nadia has always liked ice. It was always nice to crunch down on after a cigarette and you liked how cold it made her mouth feels. So by accident one nice, it joins you two in the bedroom.

Nadia Vulvokov x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 11: Revenge, You Thought (Bondage)

Summary: John enjoys teaching his naughty little thing a lesson and you enjoy learning it.

John Brown x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 12: Car Hookups (Car sex)

Summary: You and Oboro regularly meet up late in his car for sex.

College AU! Oboro Shirakumo x GN! Reader (Imagine)

Day 13: Pegging L Would Include… (Pegging)

Summary: You manage to convince L to part take in a kink you've been wanting to try out.

L x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 14: Wet Fucking (Shower / Tub sex)

Summary: Whilst the Handler is away, you and Lila decide to make good use of the beautiful bathtub in the hotel.

Lila Pitts x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 15: Insatiable Needs (Marathon sex)

Summary: When Steve is unable to satisfy his new wife's insatiable needs, he calls a friend.

Estefania x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 16: Mommy’s Baby (Lactation)

Summary: Carol's duty as a mother is to make sure her baby is always well feed. She's your Mommy now so she must make sure your well fed.

Carol from Cobweb x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 17: Bruno Needs A Spanking (Orgasm Denial)

Summary: Denying Bruno Madrigal an orgasm includes…

Bruno Madrigal x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 18: Slowly Stripping (Exhibition)

Summary: Julieta can't help but find something so hot about being fully nude in front of her lover.

Julieta Madrigal x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 19: Choking and Gasping (Breath Play)

Summary: Morpheus discovers he loves the sound of hearing you struggle to breathe.

Dream x GN! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 20: Edge You To Death (Edging)

Summary: Undertaker enjoys ruining your orgasms.

Undertaker x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 21: (Nun Fucking)

Summary: Sister Irene teaches you a holy lesson.

Sister Irene x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 22: Only Good Girls Get To Cum (Mirror Sex)

Summary: Ming forces you to watch yourself fall apart from just her fingers, just so you know how much of and dirty girl you are.

Ming Lee x Fem! Reader (Imagine)

Day 23: Pegging Fantasy (Pegging)

Summary: Jaime tells you his biggest sex fantasy and you make it your mission to make it happen.

Jamie Reyes x Fem! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 24: Green Mommy (Monster Fucking)

Summary: Your girlfriend's new power has made your sex life a whole lot more interesting.

Jennifer Walters x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 25: Papa’s Pet (Public Sex)

Summary: Dr Brenner will absolutely use you teach someone a lesson about the consequences of trying to steal what belongs to him.

Dr Martin Brenner x Fem! Reader (featuring 001?) (Fic)

Day 26: Blindfolding The Snake (Blindfold Sex)

Summary: You blindfold your good boy and reward him for all his hard work.

Servant! Snake x Master! Fem! Reader (Headcannons)

Day 27: Othello’s Experiment (Pregnancy / Breeding Kink)

Summary: Othello's newest obsession is pregnancy and all the symptoms that come with it. You've so generously agreed to help him in his little experiment for his research.

Othello x Fem! Human! Reader (Imagine)

Day 28: (Threesome)

Summary: Nemuri, your girlfriend, is shocked to hear about a filthy fantasy you've been thinking about. But still, she's more than willing to help her lover made said fantasy come true.

Midnight x Mt Lady x Fem! Reader (Fic)

Day 29: (Vouyerism)

Summary: Gabe has been watching you for a while now and has finally decided it time to come out and introduce himself.

Gabe x GN! Reader (Imagine)

Day 30: (Size Kink)

Summary: Nana is big and buff for a woman. She is quite used to hearing negative things about her muscly figure. The first thing she's ever received a compliment about her body was when you, her young girlfriend and successor's older sister, make a comment on how sexually aroused you are by her big muscles and all the filthy things you imagine she could to do to you with them.

Nana Shimura x All Might's Sister! Younger! Fem! Reader (Fic)

Which ones are you the most excited for?

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