Fanfic blog

 My grade, while a fairly safe A at the moment, will most likely drop once participation points go in. Anyways, bear with me, because this blog sounds like some fanfiction written by some 14-year-old Wattpad or AO3 user. 

 

“Do you, Jay Gatsby, take Daisy Buchannan to be your lawfully wedded bride?” asked Nick.

“I do,” proclaimed Gatsby, wearing that enchanting smile of his.

“And do you, Daisy Buchannan, take Jay Gatsby to be your lawfully-”

“I do!” exclaimed Daisy, cutting Nick off, and practically grinning from ear to ear.

“Then in the power vested in me and the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The two shared a short passionate kiss, yet Nicked looked away. Despite officiating the wedding and having to watch the two love birds act all sappy even before getting engaged, he still felt this moment was too intimate and felt like being a third wheel again. He glanced over at Jordan, who happened to be the maid-of-honor. She was smiling, very happy for her best friend.

 

The guests hurried off over to Gatsby’s mansion for the reception. The halls were filled with booming music and loud, joyous chatter. Every table glittered with food too perfect to even eat and stacked crystal champagne flutes, each one hand polished to a blinding luster, likely at the expense of the butler.  

Although this was meant to be some grand occasion, Nick seemed distant from the rest of the party. There was quite a lot weighing on his mind, including how maybe one day the two will no longer be in love once Daisy realizes where all of Gatsby’s money came from and once Gatsby realizes Daisy isn’t as alluring and perfect as he originally thought. Jordan seemed to take notice and dragged Nick to join the festivities.

“Come on,” Jordan begged, “This is a day to celebrate our friends, not stare blankly out the window.”

“I know, I just hope the gardeners don’t go digging up the plants any time soon,” Nick replied.

Jordan looked at Nick knowingly.

“Well, at least we needn’t worry about you-know-who for a while then.”

“I suppose you are right, as always. Say, I owe you a dance, don’t I? Why don’t you join me for one?”

“I would love nothing more,” Jordan smirked.

 

The celebration would continue until daylight; warmth of the mansion spilling out into the cold, dark, and rainy evening, welcoming friends and shutting out enemies, in just the way the one and only great Gatsby intended.