#bearmageddon

A Bit of Bittersweet in the Bake

with Author: @emotional-support-hufflepuff

Kid was currently sitting in Stein's office while Soul sat in the waiting area. And knowing Kid there would be screaming in five, four, three, two.. Soul flinched at the screaming even as he knew it was coming. For someone as tiny as he was, Kid definitely had a pair of lungs on him. The meltdown was right on time.  

Kid usually had one in the office when his ocd was at its worst. If he was lucky, Soul would have time to run away before his session started. He could easily get up and leave now. It would take what.. five steps for him to reach the door? Stein wouldn't even notice a- “Soul” “Shit!” 

A yelp followed by a crash could be heard as Soul tripped over his chair. Stein watched on with an unamused expression. Yet another chair in his office that has fallen victim to Souls clumsiness.- “Soul” “Shit!” 

Written for the @thecandlenightszone​ exchange as a gift for @bearmageddon​. Ficlet is also over on AO3!

Magnus is absolutely not nervous.

The way his knees are knocking together with an audible clatter that he’s worried his soon-to-be father-in-law will hear from his place next to the altar is completely unrelated to nerves. The sweat he surreptitiously wipes off his brow with the perfectly starched cuff of his dress shirt has nothing at all to do with anxiety. And the legion of butterflies making mincemeat of his insides? Yeah, definitely not fear.

Because Magnus Burnsides has never been afraid in his entire life.

But there’s something about the silence before the music starts and the guests rise to their feet to usher the bride down the aisle that sends a cold shiver down his spine. Will she show up? Has this all been a dream? There can be no other explanation for the fact that this woman -- this beautiful, strong, confident, talented, clever woman -- would have willingly chosen to become his wife today.

As the guitars pluck out a gentle harmony and the sunset sky at his back begins to fade to a crimson and tangerine glow, Julia appears at the other end of the aisle. The wedding dress that her sisters helped her sew in secret (The groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding, and that includes the dress, Mags!) is pearly white against the deep umber of her skin, and the ivory petals of the flower crown set in an arch above her temples seems to glow against the backdrop of her dark curls with a preternatural light. Her eyes, wide and bright, are set on his face as she begins the long walk to the arbor, and he can see the muscles twitching in her cheeks as she works hard to suppress her signature full-toothed grin in favor of a more demure smile.

His eyes are drawn to the bouquet in her hands, a massive, living thing that spills from her grip and drapes down the front of her pale gown like a fragrant waterfall. The identities of the individual flowers -- pink carnations, blue forget-me-nots, and white yarrow framed by a wreath of full-leafed ivy -- come to him with surprising clarity. He isn’t sure why he knows their names as neither he nor Julia are particularly adept at gardening, but the longer he stares, the faster his brain shoots out information about genus types and flower language. He’s just about to parse through the meaning of the carnations when he feels Julia’s hand on his and he realizes that she’s finally at his side.

The ceremony itself flies by in a haze of emotion and words he barely hears. It’s too hard to focus when Julia’s fingers are entwined in his, too difficult to remember when he’s supposed to put the ring on her finger when her lips are so close and her cheeks flush just so. Before he knows it, the cleric has declared them man and wife, and Magnus doesn’t wait until he’s finished with the pronouncement before leaning in for the kiss he’s been desperate for since the night began. He is not in the least bit surprised when Julia meets him halfway, reaching up to grasp his face in her flower-sweet hands.

As they walk back down the aisle together in the soft gloaming of early evening, arm in arm and heads tilted together, a dozen fireflies flicker in and out of the dispersing guests like miniature stars suspended in the immeasurable space of their happiness. Julia rests her head on his shoulder and Magnus closes his eyes, just for a brief second, so that he can savor this moment and remember it for all time.

It was, after all, an unforgettable night.

what’s your favorite mythical/extinct creature?

for em: DODOS. like, what a fucking bird.