#wedding florist New York

[infoblogifyzen]

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[hussyknee]

Red, White & Royal Blue: Collector's Edition Henry PoV bonus chapter by Casey Mcquiston.

(transcribed from the page pictures posted)

This is the coda to the end of the book, so don't read it if you haven't read the book first. Sadly, the Collector's Edition doesn't seem to be available on Kindle so. Arrrr matey.

Download link for file at the end.

....

HENRY

“I am not asking you to believe in it, or even to like it,” Henry says stonily. It’s been a long morning already. He is beginning to perspire. “I am simply asking you to show a modicum of respect.”

“To–to your quiche?”

“Yes. To my quiche.”

Bea puts down her tape gun and wipes her eyes. “Pez!”

“Yes?”

“Henry says he’s going to make us a quiche!”

Pez’s squawk of a laugh bounces down the stairs. “Pull the other one!”

“I make them all the time for Alex,” Henry insists. “They are perfectly edible.”

“So, when you promised us breakfast if we got up early to help you.” Bea says, “you meant that you were going to make us breakfast?”

“Yes!” Henry says hotly. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m sorry!” Bea says. “It’s only that...well, Henry, the last time you cooked breakfast for me, you were twelve and you put a sausage in the microwave until it exploded.”

“That was your idea! And it’s been ages since then! I’ve studied, all right? I’m quite good now. Those pictures I send the group chat aren’t just for show.”

“Oh, aren’t they?” Bea says rudely, as if his incredibly generous offer to cook her a shallot-and-thyme quiche with mushrooms from the farmer’s market means nothing at all. As if he’s lived in this house for five entire years without learning to use its kitchen.

Perhaps if their lives weren’t so chaotic, if Henry weren’t flying out of New York every time Bea had a spare moment to fly in, he could have proven this to her earlier. But Pez, who lives mostly in the city now and visits so frequently he’s earned his own Secret Service code name (Cardinal, since Henry is Bishop), should know better.

“Percy Okonjo,” Henry says as Pez joins them, “you were here last weekend when I made mince pie. You loved it.”

“Did I?” Pez wonders aloud, with an annoyingly Bea-like lilt.

“Look at this apron!” Henry gestures to himself and the navy blue apron he’s wearing. Alex gave it to him for his birthday last year. “Would a man who can’t make a quiche have an apron like this? It’s monogrammed.”

“You’re royalty, babes,” Pez points out. “Everything you own is monogrammed.”

From the pocket of his serious-home-cook apron, his phone buzzes. Reinforcements. The FaceTime connects, and Alex says, “Good morning, love of my li–”

“Alex,” Henry interrupts, “tell them about my quiches.”

Alex pushes up his sunglasses and frowns into the camera. He looks so lovely with his faded T-shirt and jean jacket and shaggy hair. Pure American heartthrob, might as well have a cowboy hat on. Henry never does tire of it.

“Sorry?”

“Bea and Pez don’t believe I can make a quiche.”

“What? Have they seen your apron?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Henry’s quiches are great!” Alex says loudly, to the kitchen at large. “I almost never find shells in them!”

That sets Bea and Pez off again. On the screen, Alex’s face crinkles into laughter.

“Thank you very much, Alex, you’ve been a tremendous help,” Henry groans. “How are things? Florist this morning, wasn’t it?”

“Just finishing up.” Alex says with a grin. “Final approvals done. Everything looks great.”

With only one week until moving day and two until the wedding, it made sense to divide and conquer. Henry agreed to stay in New York and finish packing up the brownstone with help from Bea and Pez, while Alex, June, and Nora are ticking off the last of their checklists in Texas.

“Of all the surprises that wedding planning has brought us,” Henry says, “your ability to micromanage floral arrangements has certainly been...one of them.”

“You know I love to curate a vibe,” Alex says.

“That you do,” Henry agrees. “Where are the girls?”

“Getting donuts,” Pez answers before Alex can. He holds up his phone, open to a photo of June blowing a kiss while Nora fellates an éclair.

“Donuts!” Bea says. “Now there’s an idea!”

They spend the rest of the day drowning in cardboard boxes and bin liners, packing everything but the furniture and the downstairs television. Pez reminds him once an hour that they could pay someone to do this, but Bea is stubborn, and Henry is reluctant to let anyone else wade into all the intimate trappings of his and Alex’s life. It was bad enough explaining the contents of the trick drawer in their dresser to Pez, much less some mover he’s never met.

When it’s done, Bea puts A Knight’s Tale on in the living room and promptly falls asleep on Pez’s lap. Pez passes out too, but Henry stays awake, because Heath Ledger deserves an audience. And because he knows if he doesn't wake Bea and move her to the guest bedroom, he'll have to hear about her back spasms in the morning.

David hops up beside him on the loveseat, and Henry strokes the top of his snout until his little body relaxes into Henry's side.

"Nervous old boy," Henry hums. It still does seem like the ultimate irony that the dog he adopted for emotional support has anxiety. David has grown more and more worried all week, as more and more of his home disappeared into boxes. "We won't leave you, I promise."

The brownstone has been a good house for them. Sturdy brick walls, neighbors that actually let them be. Henry has loved it more than he ever loved Kensington, or at least as much as he loved Kensington when his parents both lived there too. Some mornings, when he comes downstairs to find Alex with the coffeepot and the kettle already on, he feels the way he did when his family all slept under one roof. This roof is quite a bit smaller than that one, but the feeling isn't.

So, perhaps David hasn't got entirely the wrong idea. It is hard to let the place go. For the past month, Alex has kept asking Henry why he's staring, and the truth is that he's been committing to memory exactly how Alex looks in every room. How the bannister fits in his hand, the place on the foyer wall where he always braces himself to pull on his shoes.

Everything that's happened in the past five years has happened, at least in part, inside this house.

…

It's seven months after Alex's mother's second inauguration, and Henry is wishing he had never even heard the word "credenza." Then he wouldn't have to decide where to put one. Alex is arriving in half an hour to help him move it, but Henry still doesn't know where. Across from the fireplace, perhaps? But what if he wants to put a sofa there? Does he want a regular sofa, or a sectional? Should it go upstairs, in his study? Or should he leave room for bookcases?

He longs to be back on a beach, sipping something from a pineapple.

It’s been a long, glorious summer since Alex packed up his White House bedroom, called Henry, and asked, "Do you want to get the fuck off the continent?" They did Dubai first, then Lagos. Rio, for old time's sake. Buenos Aires, paper lanterns in moonlight and Alex flirting with the bartender for free drinks. June through August became a lovely blur: Alex asleep against his shoulder on the plane, Alex throwing his Portuguese phrase book out the window of a speeding car, sand in unmentionable places, Alex Alex Alex. Endless runways and half-arsed disguises, swimsuits that got smaller and smaller until they simply didn't wear them anymore. Falling in love, the sequel, with fresh suntans and all the time in the world.

And now here they are in Park Slope, where Alex is renting the second floor of a brownstone two blocks from Henry's.

It's practical, they agreed, to live in the same neighborhood before they live at the same address. They've scarcely gotten a chance to date the normal way yet– if it can be called "normal" when their combined security teams are headquartered in an empty apartment down the street. Still, Henry wants this to last.

They've sprinted headlong into everything so far, but now he wants move slowly, in delicious increments. He wants to savor nights, minutes, firsts, to covet them and then let them dissolve on his tongue, like the sugar cubes he snuck off his gran's filigreed tea trays when he was small. He wants a life.

He wants someone to tell him where to put this damned credenza.

It's a vintage Broyhill Brasilia piece, walnut with clever brass drawer pulls. June helped him pick it out when she was in town with meeting her editor, but she never gave him any advice on where it should go. He hasn't ever been allowed to decide where furniture should go before.

So, it’s...there, in the center of the empty living room, the first piece in the entire house.

“Maybe you could start with a rug or two,” says Alex from the foyer.

Henry turns to find him with his keys in one hand and a paper bag in the other, smiling in a beam of mid-morning light, and, ah. Yes. There it is. That sweet, sharp gasp of nerves. The half second when he forgets how to use his mouth. If he knows nothing else, at least one certainty remains, which is that seeing Alex Claremont-Diaz in the flesh will always do this to him.

Alex in a photo is handsome, but Alex in life is a symphony. He’s refracted light with a cherry cola chaser. He’s got a Fibonacci jawline and a troublemaker smile and thick forearms built for posing in doorways with his sleeves rolled and thumbing corks out of champagne bottles. The first time Henry ever told Pez about him, he said, “God, but he’s lethal.” It’s only worse once you get to know him.

“Weird place for a credenza,” Alex comments. He kisses Henry’s cheek, then passes him a warm bundle wrapped in parchment paper. “Hope you like sausage-egg-and-cheese.”

“I don’t know where to put it.”

“Sandwich goes in your mouth, typically.”

“The credenza.”

“Ohhh, right,” Alex says, pretending to have just caught on. He winks. Henry sighs theatrically but accepts a second kiss, on the lips this time. “Why don’t you just put it right here?”

He points to his left, where a blank wall stretches from the front door to the foot of the stairs. It does, upon closer inspection, appear to be the exact right size.

“Oh,” Henry says.

This is where they overlap. Where he ends and Alex begins. Great gooey puddle of feelings, meet course of action; endless burning energy, meet point of focus. Agonies, meet your most obvious, most natural, most inevitable conclusions. It’s frightening sometimes for a person like Henry, who has spent his entire life pedaling his agonies about like baguettes in a posh little bicycle basket. What is he to do with them now?

Yes," Henry concedes, "I suppose I could," and Alex laughs.

...

It's the summer of 2022. Henry has opened his third shelter, and Alex has just finished bulldozing his first year at NYU Law.

A few boxes of books still wait at Alex's place, but otherwise, he lives in Henry's brownstone now. Their brownstone. A UT pennant beside a Chelsea scarf on the living room wall. A fridge full of Topo Chico and Bulmers. Two pairs of shoes by the front door, brown Barker derbies and Reebok trainers. Nobody could mistake it for anyone else's.

It's their first Chore Sunday (Alex's idea), and Henry has put the last of the laundry in the dryer. He's in the kitchen doorway, watching Alex unload the dishwasher.

Alex once told Henry the type of man he's typically attracted to: tall, broad-shouldered, pretty eyes, a little haunted. Bit of attitude and a smile that makes you curious. For Henry, it's never been so simple. He liked boys in his classes because they bothered with the assigned readings and fancied one of Philip's awful Eton friends because he could sail and smelled of cinnamon. The only thing all his Oxford boys had in common was that they didn't know how to speak to him. He's never had a type, and he's always been sure Alex was singular, anyway. Alex is unlike anyone he's ever met before or since.

But here, now, watching Alex bend to remove a salad bowl from the bottom rack, he is confronted with the hard truth. All those boys did, actually, share one trait.

"Are you gonna help me with this," Alex says without even an investigatory glance over his shoulder, "or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?"

...

It’s Christmas 2022, their first since Alex officially moved in, and Henry is going to make a yule log if it kills him.

Perhaps he’s been too ambitious. He’s rather new to all. Growing up, he was rarely permitted in the kitchens, and he concentrated his uni diet on fast food and takeaway. He can make toast and boil an egg, and he’s got a deft hand with the coffee percolator and a gin swizzle from time to time. He knows about food– the finest foods, actually, he’s yet to meet an Englishman who can select a better brie– but he never learned to cook, until recently.

Recently, as in when Alex became too fanatically involved in his second-year coursework to remember to feed himself.

It began with force-feeding Alex a bacon butty twice a week. Henry’s arms suffered little constellations of grease burns, but bacon was easy. And those faded, so they didn’t deter him for long. Curiosity piqued, he taught himself the basics of pasta, how one can simmer almost anything with garlic and onion and butter and it will taste good over noodles. It bolstered his confidence enough to truly commit, and now, between hours at the shelters and video calls with his mum, he watches tutorial after tutorial on how to brown butter and roast chicken. Only half of what he makes turns out the color it’s meant to, but he loves it.

He loves walking to the market on the corner and hunting down specific ingredients from the family recipes June sends him. In fact, it’s become such a regular pastime that the paparazzi have cottoned on, which is why his mother finally forced his security team to hire an actual body double. Now some bloke named Angus with his height and build and nearly the same face goes on diversionary strolls while Henry peruses jarred chilies.

With all his independent studying, he was certain he could manage a dessert. He wanted to do something impressive, since they’ve convinced their families to let them host Christmas dinner. Only, his sponge has gone all wrong, and if he’s learned anything from Bake Off, he knows it’s not meant to have cracked in five places when he tried to roll it up. Paul Hollywood would have him pilloried.

“Think you might’ve left it in too long?” Oscar asks from across the kitchen island. He’s wearing his white elephant prize, a sweatshirt airbrushed with the slogan YOU CAN’T SPELL CONSTITUTION WITHOUT TITS. Inexplicably, Henry’s own mother brought that one. “Lookin’ kinda dry there.”

“I appreciate that you are trying to be helpful,” Henry enunciates, “but if you say one more word I may start crying, and then we’ll both lose some respect for me.”

Later, when Pez has persuaded him to “call it, mate, put it out of its misery,” he carries his disgraced platter of ganache and cake and marzipan out into the living room and lets everyone go at it with spoons. The house feels full to bursting, and not just because of the Christmas crackers. There are all three of Alex’s parents, Henry’s mum, June and Nora, Bea and Pez, Shaan and Zahra on speakerphone, occasionally an awkward Philip and Martha via FaceTime, and, because he had nowhere else to go for the holiday, Angus.

(“I don’t like him,” Alex muttered when Henry suggested inviting his own body double to Christmas dinner.

“Why not?”

“Because he looks exactly like you, but I find him deeply unattractive, and that freaks me out.”)

Ellen tells everyone the story of the year Alex got his first real bike for Christmas and knocked out his two front teeth by Boxing Day, which prompts Catherine to recite eight-year-old Henry’s letter to Father Christmas, in which he requested a leather-bound journal and a holiday to East Wittering so he could gaze at the sea. Bea pushes Henry behind the upright piano, and he takes requests for an hour. It only ends when Pez rewrites half the lyrics to “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” to be about his own lactose intolerance. No one wants to follow “tidings of Lactaid and soy.”

After the third round of mulled wine, when Alex’s parents have called their drivers and his mum has retired to the guest room, June and Nora find themselves under the mistletoe. Everyone whoops and whistles until Nora finally pulls June in by her Christmas-light necklace and kisses her to a round of applause. June's cheeks turn red, but she looks pleased as anything.

"I can't believe it took this long for y'all to finally kiss." Alex says, to which Pez bursts into laughter. "What?"

"Alex," he says fondly. He drains his glass and pecks Alex on the forehead. "You gorgeous, stupid little turnip."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Pez just shakes his head and strolls off to the kitchen.

"Wait," Alex says.

He frowns, like he does when he's trying to recall something incredibly minute and specific from his torts textbook. Then, suddenly, a light goes on, and his own mug is clunking on the lamp table, and he's running off after Pez.

"Pez, what's that supposed to mean?"

...

It's late morning the summer before Alex's last year of law school, 2023, and Alex is the first word out of Henry's mouth.

Truthfully, that's how he begins most mornings. On a Monday morning five time zones away, "Alex" pitched low to the screen of his phone. On a Friday when Alex's early lecture is cancelled, "Alex" in F major, muffled in the pillow as his body moves and the day stretches out before them. Half three the night before an exam, a hoarse "Alex," followed by, "turn the bloody light off and come to bed."

This morning, it's because David is barking at the door. A rainstorm is brewing, and if jet lag didn't have Henry dead under the bedclothes, the gray gloom would. Alex was the one who surfaced from sleep half an hour ago and blearily ordered three entire pancake breakfasts from some 24-hour diner a few neighborhoods over. He should have to get up and answer the door.

“Alex.” Henry mumbles, turning over.

Alex has got the quilt tugged up so high he’s only a shock of wild curls on white linens.

“Nnnghh,” Alex groans from the depths.

“Breakfast is here,” Henry says. The doorbell helpfully rings again. David howls.

Alex’s face appears, pouting. There’s a crease from the pillow down one of his cheekbones, a comet’s tail in a constellation of freckles. “Can you get it?”

Henry rolls his eyes but smiles. Inevitable.

He drags himself out of bed and pulls on the joggers and hoodie from last night’s flight. It’s not until he feels the breeze on his ankles as he descends the stairs that he realizes they’re Alex’s, not his.

On their doorstep, a pink-haired delivery girl is looking bored under her bicycle helmet.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Henry says. He fishes a crumpled bill out of Alex’s pocket. “For your trouble.”

The girl pulls a face.

“Got any real money?” she asks. Her accent reminds him a bit of Alex’s mum.

He blinks down at her hand, which is holding a twenty-pound note. “Ah. Sorry again. Er.” He snatches his wallet out of the bowl on the credenza and gives her all the American dollars he has.

“She’s gone, Davey,” Henry says afterward to David, who’s now fretfully circling the living room. “You’ve protected us from another fearsome home invader. Well done.”

He lets David out into the back garden to do his business, then carries the food upstairs. Shockingly, Alex is awake and propped up against the headboard.

“I’m getting too old for red-eye flights,” Alex says, rubbing his eyes.

“Love, you’re twenty-five,” Henry reminds him. He deposits the bag on the nightstand, and Alex wastes no time tearing through the plastic and tucking in to his breakfast. “And I’m older than you.”

“Yes, you are. But like... I get why we have to go to Philip’s kids’ christenings. The cousins, though?” He sets to work smothering his pancakes in syrup. “I mean, at least my cousins would stack their baptisms. One and done, baby.”

Henry opens his mouth, prepared to answer with one of a thousand things. That the tabloids will have even more of a field day than usual if he stops doing his chores, that there will always be a church dedication or a swan upping or an appointment for a top hat fitting, that he’ll always be obligated to have one foot in London and one day they’ll have to choose where to settle down. It’s far from the first time they’ve had this conversation.

But then Alex shovels a massive bite of pancakes into his mouth and says, “Anyway, I love you. Do you wanna have June and Nora over tomorrow? We can play Mario Party again. I wanna see them get in a fistfight. Oh, and my dad’s in town next week, and he said to tell you he’s bringing that book you asked about–”

And that’s when Henry knows: He doesn’t ever want to go back.

...

It’s the end of spring 2024, and Henry is not eavesdropping, per se. He excused himself to answer a call from Shaan, which really could not be avoided. Shaan has taken to his new life as a househusband with predictable aplomb, and most of his calls these days involve Henry getting to talk to a baby who is clearly destined to become prime minister. He simply can’t send that to voicemail.

It’s the first time they’ve had room in the schedule for his mother to visit since Alex accepted his law job, which Henry understands very little about but has been assured is the most strategic next step for Alex’s career long game. When Henry left the room, Alex was still trying to explain it to Catherine. It all sounds terribly prestigious.

He is just returning to the sitting room with a fresh pot of tea when he hears his name from around the corner.

“–and the next morning Henry and Arthur vanished,” his mother is saying, “and when Uncle Algie called, I told him that Henry couldn’t go on the annual pheasant hunt because he was violently ill, but actually Arthur had taken him to Rome for two weeks on the set of that go on ridiculous car heist film he was working on, the one with, oh, what’s his name–“

“Jason Statham,” Alex says promptly, through wheezing laughter.

“That’s the one!”

“Loved that movie,” Alex says. “I can’t believe Henry got to be on set.”

“It was all Arthur’s idea, but he was right to do it. Uncle Algie is a dreadful bore, and Henry despises his son. Guilford. Did you meet Guilford at the wedding?”

“Henry made sure I avoided it.”

“Yes, that’s for the best,” Catherine says daintily. “He has matured into an absolute dickhead.”

Henry wishes he was in the room to see the way Alex sputters out, “Oh my God.” Alex always forgets that Catherine went to uni and married a commoner from Sheffield.

And then Alex sighs and says, “When Henry and I get married–”

Henry manages to recover the teapot before he drops it.

It’s not a surprise to hear Alex mention marriage. They’ve been sorting it out for years: political logistics and Alex’s child-of-divorce anxiety and a thousand questions about a royal wedding neither of them actually wants to have. He’s already bought an engagement ring, even, and judging by how tetchy Alex gets whenever Henry tries to put his underwear away for him, he’s not the only one.

But it is the first time he’s heard Alex mention it to his mother. He dropped it so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if he’s been talking to her about marrying Henry for years. Henry supposes it’s possible he has been. Is this why Alex had tea with her in London last month and told Henry he wasn’t invited? Have they been conspiring?

They’re discussing hypothetical guest lists now, which cousins secretly hate one another and who wore an inappropriately large fascinator to whose birthday tea, but Henry isn’t listening anymore. He’s thinking of a cafe table in Rome, his dad waving over a second round of gelato.

In his memory, he’s nine years old, and his father is saying, Whoever you marry, Henry, make sure they think your mum is a laugh, because she is. She really is.

He clears his throat and finally rounds the corner. “Tea, anyone?”

...

It’s 2024, and nobody knows they’re engaged.

Granted, they’ve only been engaged for about three hours, but Henry is curious to see how long they can go. It feels nice to keep a secret that doesn’t have to be a secret. It’s more that they’re keeping it like a pet, or something especially beautiful from the garden that they’ve coaxed into a jar.

A record is spinning on the turntable, one of Alex’s, maybe the Joni Mitchell he borrowed from Bea. They’ve shoved their phones under the couch cushions and ordered a pizza the size of the moon, and now they’re sitting in the center of the living room floor, demolishing it. They kiss, then eat more pizza, then get distracted kissing again. Henry licks a streak of pepperoni grease from Alex’s forearm, which is a fantasy he didn’t know he had until he’s living it. They tangle up on the rug, and Henry decides he’ll take Alex sailing next weekend, or even out to the edge of the river, just to see him against a horizon.

Four-nearly-five years in, the main thing he’s learned is that Alex is a world without end. All Henry wants is to go on with him forever. To keep finding new favorite parts, to keep turning things over and studying their soft bellies and finding the best bits.

So, he will.

...

It snows on New Year’s Eve 2024. Alex looks out the window and shrugs off his coat.

The Young America Gala may be no longer, but Nora, June, and Pez aren’t to be stopped from throwing a New Year’s party, especially now that Pez has gotten his own part-time flat in the city. They’re the three fates of New York City’s holiday social circuit: birth (June, managing invitations), life (Pez, topless), and death (Nora, also topless).

“What if,” Alex says, turning to Henry on the foot of the stairs, “we don’t go to the party?”

“Nora will murder me,” Henry says. “She told me she’s not afraid to do that now that I’ve given up my title.”

“Murder is still a crime even if you’re not officially a prince.”

“Yes, but she said, quote,” he puts on his best American accent, “They can’t put me in the Tower anymore. Who’s gonna arrest me now? Mr. Bean?”

“Why don’t we just send Angus? It’s dark. Maybe she won’t notice.”

“Where’s your double, then?”

“We live in New York, I’m sure I can find a male model somewhere.”

“As always, sounding the very bass string of humility.”

“Is that fucking Shakespeare?”

“Henry IV.”

“I’m gonna give you a wedgie, you fucking nerd.”

In the end, it doesn’t take much to convince Henry to stay in. Lately, it never does. Alex texts June a flimsy excuse, and they toe off their shoes and relax out of their button-downs.

Henry does have to admit he’s exhausted, in the way that one only can be on the last day of the year, when every other day of the year piles way up behind it. It’s been a big one: Alex’s first law job, the endless press about Henry’s decision to surrender his title, the engagement, Bea’s wedding, the incident with the croquet mallets and the Dutch ambassador at Bea's wedding.

Sometimes Alex jokes that they squeezed it all into one calendar year because no headline can stick if there's another next week, but it's only half a joke. They've been bone-tired for months.

"I'm surprised you're the one who wants to stay home," Henry says. "I remember a young lothario who lived to ruin people's lives on New Year's Eve."

"Ruin?" Alex says. "That's not how I remember it."

"It certainly felt that way at the time."

They drift to the kitchen, past all the traces of the year. The dried flowers, the new scuffs on the floorboards. The box of bound manuscripts of Henry's first finished poetry-ish short-fiction-ish essay-ish collection. The holiday cards from senators and diplomats and old Texas friends, topped off with Alex's favorite of Rafael Luna and his astonishingly fit partner in matching Christmas jumpers. Henry would think Raf had been forced into it if it hadn't come with a case of beer and a note of thanks for letting him stay over the last time he visited Alex and had one too many tequila shots at drag bingo.

Alex withdraws a bottle of Clicquot from the refrigerator and says, "We're not washed, are we?"

“We're aging," Henry points out.

"That's right," Alex says, eyes immediately sparking at the opportunity. Henry preemptively sighs. "You're almost thirty."

"Almost twenty-eight is not almost thirty."

"It basically is. You're old. You'll be thirty a whole year before me. You'll be popping antacids and I'll be in the club, popping my p-"

"You're not even in the club now."

"I could be, I'm just choosing not to, because I don't want to deal with the snow. That's not aging, it's growth."

He slides Henry a glass of champagne and adds, "It's probably time for us to start talking about what's on your Do Before Thirty list, huh?"

Henry takes the glass and chooses going with Alex's bit over pointing out that he's entering his late twenties, not dying.

“I’ve done quite well on that front so far, actually,” he says. “Wrote a book. Started a nonprofit. Engaged to the love of my life.”

“Involved in an international sex scandal.”

“Shook the hands of all five Spice Girls.”

“Best dressed at the Met Gala.”

“Cried in the Water Lilies room at the MOMA.”

“Grew your hair out, then cut it all off.“

“Taught myself to make beef Wellington.”

“That one’s, uh, still in progress,” Alex hedges. Henry gives him an affronted look. “But, yeah! Definitely. And you got really good at scones.”

“That I did.”

“Right,” Alex agrees. “So what’s left? Streaking? Dropping acid? Having sex on our kitchen island?”

Henry takes a moment with that one.

“Having sex on our kitchen island?”

When the clock strikes the new year, the house is quiet. The timer on the light over the front stoop clicks off. The champagne bottle rests between two glasses on the edge of the sink, spent and sticky around the rim, a single soggy strawberry at the bottom of each flute. Miles out from their apartment, fireworks fight the snow over the East River, but in their kitchen in Park Slope, the only sounds are the two of them.

Henry, almost twenty-eight, presses his warm body to the cool marble and gets his midnight kiss.

...

“Do you know what today is?” Alex asks on a lukewarm September.

It’s 2025. He’s in the doorway of Henry’s study, where Henry has been all evening, answering emails.

“Hm? No.”

When Alex doesn’t immediately fill the silence, Henry looks up from his laptop screen.

“What is it?”

“Five years since the story broke,” Alex says.

It takes a moment for him to realize what story Alex means; there have been so many of them. But of course, he means that gigantic, terrible one. The one that changed their lives forever.

“Oh,” Henry says. He closes his laptop, leaning back in his chair and away from it. “Well. Hated that.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “Zero out of ten. Would not do again.”

His tone is light and casual, but when he folds his arms across his chest, Henry can see his glasses in the front pocket of his flannel. It’s been months and months since the last time Alex didn’t feel confident enough to wear them.

For his part, Henry can remember much of that day, but not all of it. He remembers stirring sugar into his morning tea when Shaan walked in wearing an expression Henry had never seen before. He remembers Pez arriving like the cavalry in Gucci slippers, hustling Henry away from his handlers with the same graceful disdain he used to direct at Eton classmates who stared at them too much. He remembers Bea finding them in the music parlor and refusing to hear Henry’s apology, and he remembers Alex’s call and Alex’s arrival.

The funny part, though, is he can’t remember anything between Bea and Alex. He knows that Philip was involved, and there were stories on every news channel, and he spoke to his mother at some point. But the space in his memory where those hours belong is simply blank. His psychiatrist says it’s post-traumatic stress disorder, and Henry is inclined to agree, considering the two of them spent the entire following year recalibrating Henry’s anxiety and depression medication around the event.

Those hours will always be gone. There are things he will never get back.

Most of the time, though, when he thinks of that day, the second worst thing that's ever happened to him, he thinks of Alex's hand in his under a Buckingham Palace table. He remembers, clear as a bell, Alex's voice telling him they would survive it together. It happened to Alex too. It wasn't what they would have chosen, but it was what they received, and they've done their absolute bloody best with it.

He rises from his desk, crosses to the doorway, and gathers Alex up against his chest. Their size difference isn't that pronounced—Henry is taller but lean, Alex shorter but sturdy—but in moments like this, he's thankful for the way Alex's cheek perfectly aligns with the crook of his neck. He's grateful for how effortless it is to slip a kiss to Alex's temple.

Neither of them says anything else. It's all been said a thousand times, in speeches and through official statements and in the dark when it's only the two of them. It's enough to stand here in the center of the house, in the quiet, and let it hold their weight.

...

At the end of 2025, Henry has a bad day.

There's nothing specific that causes it. The days just happen like this sometimes, even with all the therapy and medication and supportive partnership and fulfilling creative projects in the world. There are other people, he supposes, who don't spend their lives waiting for the next bad day. He's had every bloody luxury but that one.

Alex comes home from work to find him curled up on the armchair in the study, staring out the window at the light-polluted night sky over the row of brownstones across the street.

“What are you doing?" Alex asks him.

"Looking for Orion," Henry deadpans.

Alex kneels on the rug in his tailored suit pants and rolled-up sleeves and rests his cheek on Henry's knee, the way he often does when Henry's in a mood. Henry's fingers slide into his curls. They've grown a bit longer in the past few months. Lately. Alex looks quite like he did when they met, except for the glasses and the stubble dusting his jaw.

“I’m tired of big law, “ Alex confesses. It would appear he’s in a mood too. “I know it’s only been a year and a half, but...I kind of hate it.”

Henry contemplates that, along with the dark circles around Alex’s eyes.

“You don’t have to do it, you know.” Henry tells him.

Alex looks at him like he did in that hotel room in Paris the first time they woke up together, like the only thing he knows for sure about what he’s being offered is that he wants it completely. It’s an intimidating look to receive, but it’s only ever improved Henry’s life in the end.

He kisses Henry’s knuckle, just below his ring.

“I have some ideas.”

...

In February 2026, a flu sweeps through Park Slope. Neither Alex nor Henry can agree on who gave it to whom first– Henry knows it was Alex, since he’s been up late consulting with his mum about a voting rights bill in Texas, and his immune system always suffers when he gets upset about Texas—but regardless, they’re trapped in the brownstone together for a week. At least Alex doesn’t have to work through his illness the way he usually does, since he resigned from his job last month.

Somewhere around day five, Henry realizes it’s the longest consecutive amount of time they’ve both been home in years. They always seem to be leaving or returning: rushing off to appearances, climbing out of security caravans in half-undone suits, meeting Cash at the curb at three in the morning with bags over their shoulders. It’s nice, in a way, to get reacquainted with this home they’ve built together.

While Alex naps, Henry paces the entire floorplan.

The first floor, with its long living room and the original beams and mantelpiece, which Henry had restored before he moved in, because he always has been precious about the history of things. Then the kitchen and the deep blue cabinets and the wide back window over the knotty pine dining table handed down from Alex's dad. Upstairs, on the second floor, the guest bedroom with all of his mum's preferred hand creams in the attached washroom and the sitting room with the shelf of swan figurines Pez started collecting years ago in a dramatic fit of June-related yearning. One more flight up to the top floor, with his study and Alex's office and the hall with their photo from Shaan and Zahra's wedding and, at the far end, their bedroom.

The bedroom is his favorite part of the house, and not only for the obvious reasons, no matter how much Alex tries to imply otherwise with suggestive eyebrows. He loves the high ceiling and the chipped plaster medallion of roses at the center. They picked out the bed together, and every morning that he wakes up in it, he gets to turn over and see Alex's loose pens and glasses wipes scattered atop the dresser and know that this, his life, is still real. Perhaps he likes the room best because it feels separated from every other part of the house, lifted up and bundled in, which is the first time he's ever been safe in a tower.

Most importantly, of all three levels of bay windows jutting from the redbrick front of the brownstone, only the one in the bedroom has a seat. They've filled it with velvet pillows and mossy green cushions, and once or twice a year, on one of their vanishingly rare slow days, Alex will climb in and fall asleep.

That's where he finds Alex when he eases into the room with a mug of soup in each hand. He recognizes the quilt wrapped around him: they slept under it in Alex's childhood twin bed the night Ellen won her second term, and then Alex crammed it into his suitcase and brought it back to Washington.

He stirs as Henry sets the mugs down on the dresser.

“Thanks,” he says in a hoarse voice.

Henry nudges in beside him, gingerly removing Alex's glasses from beneath his elbow before they get crushed.

"You know," Henry says, "I chose this house for the bay windows."

Alex blinks at him, fully awake now. "Really?"

"I thought you might like them. You always talked about the one you grew up with. Hoped they might make the place feel like home."

Alex smiles. "They do."

Henry looks at him in his quilt, sleep-mussed and flushed from fever and overdue for a shave, and he remembers that night in the yellow house in Austin. Before Alex led them back to his old bedroom, he peeled up the cushion in the living room window seat and showed Henry pages of elementary school scribbles still hidden there. And he told Henry that he thought once of hiding a picture there too, if only he'd had the nerve to tear it out of his sister's magazine.

Love, Henry has found, has a way of growing backward. You fall in love with a person in the present, and then every person you've ever been gets to fall in love with every past version of them. A sleep-deprived Georgetown freshman falls in love with an Oxford sophomore who's testing out undoing the top button of his shirts sometimes. A ruddy-cheeked teenager with his nose in a book loves a backtalking lacrosse captain. A boy comes home from school with perfect marks and sees a picture in a magazine, and the boy from the picture pauses on a palace staircase.

The crux of it is, he loves every version of Alex to ever sleep under that quilt. Everything else is mostly set dressing

"I'm having a thought," Henry says.

"Congratulations," Alex deadpans automatically. Then, "Tell me."

"This life we have here," Henry says. "This house. It's good, yeah?"

"Yeah, of course it is."

"But we could have a good life somewhere else too."

Alex frowns. "Like where?"

"Somewhere... farther from everything, maybe? Somewhere we could slow down, and things could be quieter, and you could do the work you want to do. I think I could use some time away from it all, honestly. Maybe I wouldn't even have to have a body double anymore."

Alex considers that for a long moment. They both know where Henry means, even if he doesn't say it. Besides New York and DC, and London on its best days, there's really only one place Alex would seriously consider living. They've joked about it before, but Henry's always thought it might be nice to spend a few years somewhere completely different than he's used to. A place where he could see the stars.

At long last, Alex sniffs and says, "You're gonna fire Angus? He was just starting to grow on me.”

...

“If you don't wake Bea up, you're gonna have to hear about her back spasms in the morning,” says a voice that is most certainly not Heath Ledger's.

Henry startles awake to find Alex leaning over his shoulder from behind the loveseat, curls everywhere. The room is dark, and the end credits are rolling.

"You're not home until tomorrow," Henry mumbles.

"Moved up my flight," Alex says. He's so close to Henry's face, he's gone a bit cross-eyed. His lips bounce off the tip of Henry's nose. "I missed you."

It's only been a few days, but the truth is Henry missed him too. He supposes he should be used to empty beds and time differences by now, especially when they began that way, but he suspects he'll never stop waiting at the door. You know what will be the best part of getting married?" Henry asks Alex.

"The line dancing."

"The way I won't have to miss you nearly as often."

Alex softens, then maneuvers himself over the armrest until he's draped across Henry's lap. David climbs on top of him and curls up on Alex's left buttock.

Letting go of the house has been hard, but this particular decision was easy, once they finally said it out loud. A gradual, careful withdrawal from public life, at least for a few years. They’ve given so much of themselves to the world and had the privilege of feeling a legacy take shape beneath them, but they need rest too.

It was June who convinced them, actually. Even now, there are certain things only June can say to Alex. Early in the spring, when she was finally transitioning out of her speechwriting job for Raf, she called Alex from Colorado and told him she was moving to New York to be closer to Nora and Pez, and she wanted to sublet the brownstone. When Alex pointed out that he was still living in it, she said, "We both know you've been looking at farmhouses in Austin for six months, it's time to shit or get off the pot."

(Henry loves his particular collection of Americans. They truly do say what's on their minds.)

The new house is beautiful. Henry's only seen it in person once, but the previous owner was a reclusive tech executive with shockingly good taste, so Architectural Digest featured it last year. He's had the article open in a tab on his phone for two months, and he scrolls through all those perfectly lit photos twice a day, getting high on possibilities. Lazy mornings in the wide sunroom, midnight dives in the lake. It's easy to imagine Alex mellowing into a brisket-smoking, tamale-rolling Texas dad out there, and it's just as easy to imagine them basking under cedar trees until their mid-thirties and then deciding they're ready for another round. The wonderful thing is, they can take their time either way.

It isn't a full release from their obligations, but it is the next step after formally relinquishing his title. More boundaries, more of their own rules about what they will and won't do. No royal wedding, but a private ceremony at the lake house and a honeymoon unpacking boxes. A job for Alex at a smaller firm where he can finally get his hands in the earth. A quieter life.

"You're right," Alex says. "You know what else is gonna be awesome about married-people life? We can have actual, real-life date nights. Just imagine it: free refills and bottomless chips and salsa."

"Oh, I've got another one," Henry says. “You can finally show me how to navigate an H-E-B."

“Baby, don’t talk dirty to me in front of company.”

“Please,” says a groggy voice from the couch.

“Hi, Bea.”

“Time’s it?”

“One in the morning.”

“Ugh.”

Grumbling and tugging a blanket around herself, Bea wakes Pez and the two of them head off to wash up before bed. The odds of Pez returning to the couch for the night or availing himself of their bed so that Alex has to sleep on the couch are just about even, based on six years of Pez falling asleep at their house. It’s a comfort to know that when they leave the brownstone and June moves in, Pez will still be making himself at home in it.

Downstairs, surrounded by boxes, Alex crawls out of Henry’s lap and slides a large shopping bag out from behind the loveseat. “I brought you something.” Alex says.

Inside the bag is a box made of the sort of heavy cardboard that augurs something expensive. He imagines Alex hurling his patched-up rough-ridden leather duffle into the overhead compartment of the airplane and then sliding this bag under the seat so carefully that there’s not even a crease in the paper.

He takes the lid off the box and unwraps layers of tissue paper to reveal a hat. A cowboy hat. It’s made of gorgeous, thick felt, with a cattleman crown and a satin lining. A nearly identical one has hung in Alex’s office since he moved in, though Alex’s is midnight black and this one is a warm, pale sand. Where Alex’s hatband has a small gold buckle, this one has a silver pin in the shape of an English rose.

“It’s a Stetson,” Alex says. When Henry looks up at him, his cheeks have darkened faintly. “I know it’s not really your thing, but you ride horses, and it’s kind of a big deal where I’m from to get your first Stetson, so I wanted to be the one to give it to you since you’re about to be an honorary Texan. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want–“

“I love it,” Henry interrupts.

Alex pauses, then breaks out in a grin. “You do? I was afraid you’d think it was a joke.”

“It’s the least ridiculous hat I’ve ever been given,” Henry tells him. “It didn’t even come with a matching tailcoat.”

“Nah, but maybe we can get you some Wranglers,” Alex says.

“Some chaps, perhaps.”

“I just told you not to talk dirty to me.”

Henry laughs and kisses him over the open box, thinking of the next year of their lives. Sunday morning fry-ups, swimming holes, a wedding cake that doesn’t wind up on the floor. Tomorrow he needs to ask if Alex checked on the bakery while he was in Austin, and if they have any more packing tape, and whether Amy’s daughter has gotten her flower girl dress yet.

Tonight, though, Alex is home a day early, and the house is making all its soft, familiar night-time sounds around them. No one sees in through the windows. No one comes in through the gate.

“Henry,” says Alex.

“Alex,” says Henry.

“You and me,” Alex says.

“You and me,” Henry agrees.

End.

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[goldenlikedayl1ght]

moon song - m. murdock

a/n: oh boy. uh. thanks for all the love on my last fic, so i decided to give you an incredibly angsty fic. this one is for all my male readers but honestly i want everyone to read it so. as always, reblogs, feedback and comments are always appreciated! warnings: internalized homophobia, cursing, infidelity, angst, hurt/no comfort, casual homophobia (teasing not anything insane) catholic guilt and symbolism, bisexual karen page, i'm not an elektra anti, making out, alcohol to cope, reader has a lot of coming out moments word count: 3.4k summary: you hate that elektra and matt are getting married. will you convince him not to go through with it? can you? pairing: matt murdock x male!reader now playing: moon song - phoebe bridgers "and if i could give you the moon/i would give you the moon/you are sick/ and you're married/and you might be dying/but you're holding me like water in your hands"

You’re in Josie’s when they realize. It’s like any other night, Foggy to your left, Karen to your right, as you watch Matt and Elektra play pool together. You take another swig of your whiskey, and tap your fingers on the glass, desperately attempting to try and listen to what Karen and Foggy were laughing about.

Two more weeks. That’s all you have to do.

In two weeks, Matt and Elektra will be married, and that’ll be that. They’ll live forever in their New York penthouse, fighting criminals and having beautiful children. That is their fate, and you’ll give your best man speech at their wedding.

All will be well, and you can bury your feelings deep down under alcohol and other women. No one will ever know what you really think of the happy couple.

You’re happy when Matt beats her at pool and they head back over to your table, where they absolutely hang over each other.

“We’re gonna head out.” Elektra says, a slightly drunken smile on her face. Matt hums and presses a kiss to her cheek.

“Meeting with the florist tomorrow.” Matt tells you all.

“I’m going to grab another drink,” You announce, and look at them. “One for the road?” Matt smiles at you, and for a moment, you think he must know.

“I’ll come grab one with you.” He turns to Elektra to ask if she wants one, but she shakes her head.

“I have to finish this one.”

So, you and Matt head over to the bar, his hand on your arm. You wonder if he knows.

“You seem distracted,” he tells you, and you figure you’re caught.

“Just working on my best man speech. It’s all up here.” You tap your forehead. You order two shots for the pair of you and take them quickly with your best friend. “Getting excited?”

“Yeah, it’s just kind of crazy. I’m nervous, is all.. And she seems to be totally fine with the whole thing.”

You bite back a bitter comment about both of their commitment issues.

“I think she’s just as nervous as you are.”

“I can hear heartbeats. Trust me, she’s not.”

“But you’re in love with her, right?”

If you weren’t so drunk, maybe you would catch his moment of hesitation.

“Yeah.”

“Then what more do you need?”

“You’d marry someone just because you’re in love with her? That’s all you need?”

Not just someone. You know who you’d marry.

“That’s all I need, Matty. You think too much. Have another shot.” He laughs at this and pats your shoulder.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“Says you, I’m a bachelor, still.”

“So am I—For the next two weeks.”

“And yet,” a voice says behind you, “You’re still accounted for.” Elektra says, approaching the pair of you at the bar.

You both turn to her. You’re drunk enough so you don’t tense.

She hands Matt his jacket, and they link arms. Jealousy fills your mouth, and it tastes like venom.

“Elektra.” You smile and nod to her.

She says your name before adding, “Have a goodnight.”

“Goodnight.. Get home safe, Matt.” You say, smiling at them as they leave.

You turn back to the bar, where your smile falters. You take a seat, resting your head in your hands. You’re not drunk. That’s not what this is. When you look up, Josie is there and hands you another whiskey on ice and sends you this knowing wink.

Your face burns, and you nurse your drink. What did she know about your life? You only spent every Friday and sometimes Saturdays here. You sit there in your pity for a while, thinking about it all. You’ll plan a vacation for when they get home from their honeymoon. You’ll fuck someone you’ll never see again and by the time you get back home, you’ll be over it.

You’ll be the godfather to their first child; Matt will be the best man at your own wedding. You’ll live the rest of your life with this deep dark secret that no one, not even your best friend, will ever know.

Except, you forget that Karen and Foggy are in the bar too. They slide into the seats next to you and just look at you for a while.

“I might be tipsy, and I might not have super senses, but I can tell you’re looking at me. What is it?” You finally pick your head up and look at them.

“I figured it out.” Karen says.

You’re too drunk for this.

“Figured what out, Miss Page?” You ask.

“Me too,” Foggy adds. “And to think, you almost had us.”

“What?”

“The bachelor life. The one-night stands. The constant rotating door of girlfriends because you can’t have the one you actually want.” She continues.

You feel sick. How did they know?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say, as neutrally as possible but it comes out defensive.

Then Foggy says it.

“You’re in love with Elektra.”

And you stop. They think they have you. Then, you start laughing. Like a crazy person, like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. God, it’s so dumb. You’re just that good at hiding it.

“Nice try, guys.”

“We saw the way you were looking at her while they were playing pool! That’s why you’ve been acting so weird since they got engaged.” Foggy reasons. You know what it looks like.

You took another sip.

“That’s because I’m not in love with her,” Elektra is intelligent, beautiful, and funny. Anyone would be lucky to have her, you’re sure. But you hate that she’s happy for another reason. “It’s because I’m in love with Matt.”

• • •

You’re nineteen years old. You work at a pizza place between semesters, with Matt often coming to visit you. You’re best friends, and he likes to come in, grab a slice and a diet coke, have you take your break with him, and then leave.

One day, he’s late to do this routine and an older coworker says to you, “Where’s your boyfriend?”

Your face burns.

“He’s not my boyfriend, asshole! I’m not gay, I wouldn’t ever dream of it!” You had said, a story you’ve told others and yourself so many times that it doesn’t feel like a lie anymore.

Matt walks in a few minutes later.

The truth is, if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve had feelings for Matt for a long time. Ever since you met him at church one Sunday, you’ve felt this need to be closer to him, to be with him all the time.

You knew what it was then, just like you know now. And just like now, you hated yourself for it.

But it got worse over the years, in a way that you just couldn’t push down like you had done for so many other people.

You became a nurse and when Matt became Daredevil, he used this fact to his advantage. And for a long time before this, you were able to keep how you felt about him at bay. You were able to just be his best friend, and nothing more.

But he crawled into your window one night, drunk on pain and whimpered as he asked you to stitch him up. By the time you were done, he laid there half naked on your couch, and your hands were covered in his blood.

You felt guilty for wanting him while he lay there, wounded. But in another way, you felt baptized, relieved that you were allowing yourself to accept a truth that you had denied for so many years.

And it got worse from there.

After admitting to yourself that you had feelings for him, it became prevalent that there was no going back.

You stopped by the office for lunch this one time and you walked into his office to see him lounging casually at his desk, tie half undone, sleeves rolled up, and hair slightly disheveled. You scolded yourself for being so into him.

And then he got back together with Elektra.

For a while, you figured this was a good thing. A great thing, even. Matt would date Elektra and you could move on, maybe admit to yourself that you liked guys and start dating more of them.

And it worked, for a little bit. It was easier to not love him when he was around Elektra because of how obviously happy he was with her.

Then they got engaged.

You were so angry at yourself for letting it happen, so angry at yourself for not saying anything, angry at him for not noticing, angry at him for not wanting you.

So, you started to date other girls.

And this is how you lived for so long, dating women you didn’t like in favor of burying the immense love you felt for your best friend. Until last week, when you broke up with your girlfriend because you just couldn’t take it anymore.

There would be no telling Matt, sure, but there would be no telling anyone how in love with him you were, there would just be you, coming out and dating men that eased the longing for him.

Until that night at the bar, when Foggy and Karen catch you in this vulnerable state.

They walk you home from the bar that night, as you slip into a drunker and drunker mind. You won’t remember anything after that confession in the morning.

Karen hands you your pajamas and a glass of water. She helps you into bed and holds you as you cry.

“Will he ever know how much I love him?” You ask, drunk and in a different pain Matt was in that night you stitched him up.

Karen shushes you gently and tells you she’ll call you in the morning.

You don’t remember saying that in the morning. All you know is that you’ve made an immeasurably stupid mistake by telling them.

• • •

On Monday, you have off because you worked a 12-hour shift the night before.

Foggy sends you a text asking you to bring them dinner while they work on some cases.

You oblige, ready to push down your feelings until the next time you’re drunk.

But when you get there, you don’t see Matt. You assume he’s in another room, grabbing coffee. You hold up their dinner.

“Hey guys, I brought Chinese.” You tell them, sitting at the table after handing them the bag. You lean back in your seat, keeping your cool.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’re in love with Matt?”

You snap back up.

“I’m sorry, can you be a little more discrete, considering the man has super hearing?!”

Karen rolls her eyes.

“He’s not here. He left a little while ago to go pick up his tux.”

Your jaw clenches, jealousy sewing the hinges shut.

“I didn’t even realize you were into guys.”  Foggy says.

“That was intentional. I never really.. developed feelings for any other guys. Matt is just..” You look down at the chopsticks you’ve been twirling in your fingers. “I just see him and there’s nothing I want more than to just have him, nothing more than to just beg him to want me.”

Karen and Foggy both know the feeling.

Because it’s no secret that Matt is this alluring force of nature especially when it comes to his charisma and determination. Everyone either wants him or wants to be him, and its why Elektra is so perfect for him. They’re similar people.

And who are you? Some nurse who can’t even admit when he’s got it bad for his friend.

“You should tell him before the wedding.”

You scoff at the idea.

“And ruin our friendship? Ruin his wedding day? I’d rather see him happy and oblivious than lose him completely.”

But Karen and Foggy know you well and can see how this is starting to wear on you. You’re losing yourself grieving something that could never have been.  

“You owe it to him and to yourself.”

“I don’t. I know you guys’ care, and I appreciate it. But there isn’t anything to do. Matt and Elektra are going to get married because they love each other and that’ll be that.” You tell them. “Matt won’t ever know how I feel, and I’ve made peace with that. He wouldn’t want me and I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“But how do you know—” Karen starts, but you cut her off.

“Matt’s never expressed any interest in men, and to my knowledge he’s never been with any.”

Then, Foggy says something that haunts you.

“That’s what we thought about you before Friday.”

And it rattles within you, all throughout your body and your brain.

It stays with you throughout the night, and into the next day.

You can’t get it out of your head.

Maybe you could tell him. Just tell him and add on if he doesn’t feel the same, to forget you ever said anything.

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself hope.

You lay in bed that night and fall asleep thinking about it. About if he’ll say yes, if he’ll kiss you like you wanted him to.

You spend days with this thought, with it rattling around. One day you wake up and are greeted by your calendar and see that the wedding is the next day.

You’re sick with nausea at the thought and realize how horrible of an idea it would be to tell him.

You pretty much spend all day, sick, staring at your suit and thinking about how horrible it would be to watch Matt get married to someone who isn’t you. In the church where you met. Not even knowing how much you want him.

You contemplate your options.

You could go to Elektra, beg her to call off the wedding and let you have him.

You could fake being sick, leave the country and block his number.

You could tell Matt the truth.

You opt to call Karen.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say, this vulnerability in your voice that you wouldn’t show normally.

“Oh..” She says your name softly. “Do you love him?” She asks.

“Karen..”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. You know I do.”

“Then tell him that.”

“What if he wants nothing to do with that?”

“Then at least you know.”

And then you ask her the real question that terrifies you.

“What if he does?”

“What?”

“What if he wants me like I want him? What do I do then?”

She wants to ask you, who cares? If Matt wants you just as desperately as you want him, what matters after that? But she felt this way towards Matt Murdock once, so she knows how horrible it is. And she’s fallen in love with women she can’t have before, so she understands.

“Then let yourself be happy.” Is her answer.

• • •

The day of the wedding comes.

You think you might be more nervous than either of them.

You sit with Foggy and Matt in the basement of the church, sipping a whiskey. Matt has his scotch, and Foggy has his rum. The lot of you have rather distinguished tastes.

Matt looks so fucking good. Your heart races. Foggy sees your nervous look and finishes his drink, clearing his throat.

“I’m gonna go check in with Marci and see how everything’s going so far. We have to be up there in ten.” He reminds you. He turns and leaves.

You’re with Matt, alone in your feelings. He’s fixing his cuffs and tilts his head towards you.

“Why is your heart racing?” He grins. “I’m the one getting married.” You say nothing. You take another sip of your drink.

“You’re reading it all wrong.” You tell him. And that isn’t a lie. You’re on the verge of saying it.

“Whatever,” He chuckles. “Help me with my bowtie, please?” He hands you the untied bowtie and you take it. You take it and step towards him.

Your hands are shaking as you wrap the bowtie around his neck and tie it, with this gentleness reserved for only those who truly know you. You can feel his breath against your skin. It’s enough to make you lose your mind. Your fingers fumble with his bowtie, and when you’re done, you straighten it out a bit. He looks really good. He’s yet to close his suit jacket and put on his glasses, but he will soon.

“Matt..” You say softly. “You know I feel about you, right?”

He pauses.

“You’re my best friend.” He hums. “Of course, I do.”

Your hands rest on his shoulders. Your fingers twitch.

“No, It’s more than that.” You tell him. “I love yo—” You’re unable to finish your confession.

Because Matt is kissing you, his hands on your sides, and pushing you against the church basement wall. You melt into the kiss, your hands going up to cup his chin. You feel this swell inside of you, like your prayers have been answered.

Kissing this man you love; you’ve never felt closer to God.

He deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue between your lips and pressing his body against yours, ruining your perfectly unwrinkled suit.

He kisses you for a few moments more.

Then, he pulls away, but you bring him back for another one by his collar, and he happily obliges. Your hand goes up to the nape of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. Then, he pulls away again.

“That was…”

He stands breathless before you.

“I know.” He finishes.

“What happens now?”

He has this confused look on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what do we do next?” To you, it’s so obvious. He should go find Elektra, call everything off, figure out what it would look like to be in a relationship with you. He should say I love you back.

“I’m going to go upstairs and get married.” He says, like it should be the obvious answer.

“What? But you just—”

“I know what I did, but… I can’t…”

“You can’t? You just did.” You defend.

He grabs his glasses where he set them on the coffee table earlier.

“I’m sorry, but we just.. We can’t.”

“No! Not we, there is no we, right now, You can’t! I have been waiting for that for years and you kiss me like that, and you decide you can’t?” You spit out.

He nods.

“You’re right.” For a moment, you live in a world where you’ve convinced him. “There is no we.” He says and turns to the door to leave. You follow him, and before he can open the door, you’re grabbing him, turning him around. Your lips are against his as if to beg him to change his mind. He lets you think you’ve convinced him.

When he pulls away from the kiss, you whisper it out.

“I love you.” You say. “Please, don’t…”

He wants you to ask him not to get married. You won’t. He’d say no anyways.

He steps away from you, buttons up his suit jacket, fixes his bowtie and puts on his glasses.

“Come on, we have to go.” He tells you. He turns and steps out, grabbing his cane on the way.

He leaves you longing for more.

He might not ever give it to you, you realize.

The ceremony is beautiful, and these two will be happy together. It kills you. You watch your best friend get married after kissing him, and something in you is breaking all the while. You were wrong.  You should have told him earlier, you should have gotten over your fears, you should have kissed him so long ago.

You book a flight to the Bahamas for two weeks and take off work or as much time as you can. You just can’t watch the happy newlyweds. It’ll break you even more than it already is.

But at least you and Matt are still friends, right? That’s what this was all about? Keeping him in your life, even if it meant not having him in the way you wanted? You’re willing to give up your happiness if it means he’ll stay in your life.

You’re frustrated, too, especially because the kiss did nothing to deter your attraction, it just makes you want him in such a way that makes you sick.

You’re in love with Matt Murdock and he knows it.

It’s a shame his wife doesn’t.

[dameronscopilot]

I’ll Be Your Bright Side

Pt. 3 - Find Me Where the Skies Are Blue

Benjamin “Benny” Miller x f!reader

Summary: Your trip to New York with Benny unfortunately only served to amplify your feelings for your best friend, because now you can't stop thinking about the way it felt to wake up in his arms—platonically or not.

But try as you might to focus your attention elsewhere for the sake of your fragile heart, you just can't escape the pull of Benny Miller's orbit.

Word Count: 7.3k

Rating: 18+ Content: fluff, angst, pining, feels, (eventual) best friends to lovers, Triple Frontier boys and their antics, protective benny, NSFW sexual content

Series Playlist

Part 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST | Part 4

As much as you positively ached to savor the feeling of Benny’s arms around you for just another moment, when the shrill sound of the alarm on your phone went off to signify that it was time to get a move on if you wanted to catch your flight, you forced yourself to move away from the warmth of his body heat for good. You didn’t so much as toss him a parting glance as you slid out of bed, because a part of you knew that you’d end up doing something that you’d regret if you did.

Even now, drifting in the temporary space between the fact and fiction of your relationship, crawling back over and kissing him in your childhood bed would cross the invisible line that remained. Regardless of his feelings, you had a feeling that he’d still cup the back of your head gently and slot his lips against yours, if only because he knew the fragile, tired state you were in.

And you didn’t think you’d ever recover from the mortification of him kissing you back out of pity.

Though the total lifespan of your faux dating ruse with Benny was hardly even twenty-four hours, once your plane touched back down in Florida, you felt slightly disoriented as you reminded yourself that the boundaries of friendship were now firmly back in place. You willed your mind to focus on steering your rolling suitcase through the airport, rather than the way Benny’s hand was gently curled around the crook of your elbow to ensure he didn’t lose you in the crowds of people that were gathered about. 

Frankie was waiting in his truck in the pick up area when you exited, lips pursed in concentration as he fiddled with the radio knob. Benny took your bag, hoisting both yours and his up into the bed while you climbed into the backseat.

Leaning forward onto the center console, you turned to the man in the driver’s seat. “Thanks for picking us up Frankie.”

He smiled, tipping his hat toward you as Benny hopped into the passenger seat and added, “Yeah, thanks Fish. Will got tied up at work.”

“No problem. You guys have a good time?” Frankie asked as he pulled away from the curb.

You blanched slightly at the question, thinking back to the strained goodbyes with your parents over breakfast. “We had…a time.”

Frankie met your gaze in the rearview, and Benny turned back to look at you, his voice laced with feigned hurt when he countered, “I took you out for ice cream, though.”

Rolling your eyes, you grinned and leaned your head back against the seat, gazing out the window as Frankie turned onto the highway.

“Yeah, you did.”

—

Shortly after your return, you learned that Emelie’s grandmother’s health had taken a turn, prompting her and Will to set their wedding date for the following month, rather than next year. They hadn’t intended on anything big or elaborate by any means, so with the help of family and friends, their plans to turn their spacious backyard into a last minute wedding venue were quickly set into motion. 

As you joined Emelie on trips to places like the florist and craft stores in the weeks that followed, you were incredibly grateful to have a distraction from the thoughts of ruffled blonde hair and bright blue eyes that ruthlessly plagued your mind. It was bad enough that your dreams about him had increased tenfold as of late, forcing you to constantly wake up panting and frustrated after spending the evening drifting in and out of vivid thoughts of Benny’s large hands on your naked hips and his mouth trailing hot kisses from your neck to your lips.

By no means were you a stranger to these nighttime fantasies about your best friend. At this point, you’d come to accept that you weren’t escaping them anytime soon. The problem now was that actually spending the night wrapped up in his arms had unfortunately served to fill in several blanks that had only existed as a product of your imagination up until this point.

Now you knew exactly what it felt like to wake up in the warmth of his arms. 

Now you had heard the quiet, steady sounds of his breathing as he slept with his nose buried in the back of your hair. 

Now you knew the hushed, husky way he spoke when his voice was still rough with sleep.

Now you knew the way his breath felt as it ghosted over the side of your neck.

Now you had seen firsthand the way his tousled hair looked fresh off of the pillow.

Now you were familiar with the soft expression that danced in his eyes as he opened them to the morning sun, glancing at you from across the meager space between your faces. 

And when you had unconsciously drifted closer to Benny in your sleep, vanquishing the remaining distance between your spooning bodies, it left you flush against him when you woke up. Flush against him and able to feel what you realistically knew was a natural thing to find pressed up against your backside in the morning, but it made your insides flood with heat all the same. 

Despite your best efforts, these were things you just couldn’t fucking forget. Especially not when you and Benny fell back into your normal routine in between work and wedding planning, one that often found him fast asleep on your couch after late movie nights. It left you all too aware of exactly how many feet of space existed between the living room and your bedroom as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling in the dark with only the loud, incessant beating of your heart for company. It made your heart ache when you quietly made your way into the kitchen the next morning, willing your death grip on the fridge door to quell your desire to find out if your couch could fit the two of you horizontally across its cushions. 

And if some nights—when Benny wasn’t inhabiting your living room—you had your own walk of shame as you snatched his favorite throw blanket off of the back of your couch, well, nobody needed to know you’d suddenly made a habit of falling asleep wrapped up in his familiar scent.

In the years since the budding feelings for your best friend had erupted into an intense, unignorable overgrowth of emotions, you’d yet to actually talk to anyone about it. Part of you held onto the pathetic shred of hope that not speaking the words out loud meant that it would be easier to forget about it entirely. But really, the only people that you’d even consider talking to about it were Frankie, Will, Santiago, or Emelie, and the thought of the pitiful expressions that would cross their faces, knowing that your crush on the younger Miller brother was an unrequited disaster, made you want to puke. Profusely.

Needless to say, you suffered in silence. But now, in the wake of The Shared Bed™, the truth was constantly dancing dangerously like a ticking time bomb on the tip of your tongue. You needed someone to tell you to hang it the fuck up, to put you out of your misery. However, with Will and Emelie’s rapidly approaching nuptials, you’d have to wait a bit longer before spilling a load of your depressing word vomit on one of your friends, because the last thing you needed was to encroach on their big day with the revelation of a secret that threatened to ruin everything.

Carefully laid plans be damned, Emelie nearly beat you to the punch one Friday afternoon a week before the wedding when you were on your way to meet with the caterer. 

“Alright, I don’t mean to put you on the spot. But I have to know. Did something finally happen between you and Benny in New York, or what?” Emelie asked in a casual voice, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the fingers of her other hand tapping on her knee. 

You nearly choked on the gummy bear that you’d just popped into your mouth, and she glanced over at you quickly in concern. After reaching for your water bottle, you laughed nervously, fingers toying with the frayed edges around a hole in the knee of your jeans. “You say finally like you’ve been expecting it or something.”

Emelie stole another glance in your direction as she brought the car to a halt at a red light, an incredulous look on her face. “That’s exactly why I said it like that.”

You bit your lip, eyes resolutely trained on the road ahead. “We’re…just friends.”

“Yeah, okay,” she scoffed, easing back onto the gas pedal.

You felt a stabbing pain in your chest as you replied honestly, “Nothing happened. Benny wouldn’t want that.”

“You’re joking, right?” 

Before you could ask her what she meant, the sound of her phone’s ringtone flooding through the car’s speakers interrupted you, and the conversation was all but forgotten in the midst of a three-way call from her mom and her sister about decorations. 

Emelie’s words danced in your head on repeat that evening, leaving you to spiral over the implications behind them. But you couldn’t even ease your way back into the topic later, because the next time that you saw her was on Sunday, when Santiago had insisted that—with the wedding set for the following Saturday—you all needed a relaxing, fun day after weeks of scrambling and planning. 

Why Santi thought floating down a lazy river was in any way a relaxing activity for the six of you was absolutely beyond your comprehension, given the fact that fifteen minutes in, Benny somehow managed to pop his float after their ill-timed arm wrestling match. As the bag of Fritos that Benny had brought along with him tipped over and spilled out, an army of soggy corn chips now joining in on your floating party, a splashing match ensued, leaving all of you dripping wet. 

And of course, because your float just so happened to be the largest amongst the group, Benny ended up climbing up beside you, his body leaning against yours as the inflatable contracted toward the middle under your combined weight.

“I hope you’re planning on rescuing me when this thing sinks, Miller,” you grumbled, internally willing away the goosebumps that were creeping up your arms at the warm, wet feeling of Benny’s skin pressed to yours.

Benny slung his arm over your shoulder, feigning mock offense. “You think I’d let you drown?”

You shot a knowing look over at Santi and Frankie, both of whom were failing miserably in their feeble attempts to hide the ogling they were doing at a group of girls floating past behind their sunglasses. “You might be distracted,” you teased, though the words felt wrong on your tongue.

“Not a chance,” Benny winked as he took off his hat and placed it on your head, running a hand through his wet hair. 

You had all of thirty seconds to overthink every syllable that had left Benny’s lips in the past few minutes before Santi’s tube bumped into yours, knocking you back to reality.

“You ready for your hot date on Tuesday, Ben?” Santiago asked, his tone dripping with implication.

Despite the sweltering heat outside and the surprisingly warm temperature of the river, it felt as if someone had dumped freezing cold water over you. 

Benny rolled his eyes, whacking Santiago in the arm. “Fuck off, man,” he chuckled.

Santi wiggled his eyebrows suggestively before pushing off to go and bother Frankie, and both men were completely unaware of the fissure inside of you that had just cracked, leaving a gaping canyon through your fragile heart. 

Benny turned to you, a grin on his face as he opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off and swiftly changed the subject, because every single thread you were barely hanging on by would snap the moment you had to hear about whatever girl he was seeing directly from his own lips. 

You scraped through the rest of the day on autopilot, putting on just enough of a front that the man beside you would be none the wiser to the fact that you were on the brink of falling apart. When you were finally free to scramble to your car to lick your wounds in private, you resolutely fought the burning urge to cry over your steering wheel until you were home.

Later that evening, you begged off your plans to watch a movie at Benny’s apartment with the excuse that you had a killer stomach ache. Lies be damned, you did feel more than a little nauseous as you sat wrapped up in The Benny Blanket on your couch, mind running through a million and one miserable scenarios of Benny having a girlfriend for the first time since you’d met him. Though you knew it was selfish, because you couldn’t deny how badly Benny deserved a happy relationship, the realization that you’d no longer fit so snugly into his life sent a fresh wave of bitter panic through your gut. The two of you were far too close and comfortable with one another, and he’d definitely be forced to put an appropriate amount of distance between you when you were no longer the girl he should be spending most of his time with. 

You needed to get a goddamn grip.

Swiping furiously at the hot tears that stained your cheeks, you flung the blanket across the room and made your way to the kitchen, digging out a fancy bottle of wine from Frankie that you’d stashed under the kitchen sink for a rainy day. And what a fucking rainy day this was.

As the liquid in the bottle steadily disappeared, you ignored the string of texts from Benny that sat waiting patiently on your phone’s lock screen, opting to instead download that stupid dating app again. Several swigs and a few hiccups later, you were logged back into your account, and your thumbs took control as you searched through your inbox and fired off a message before you could change your mind. 

The next morning, you woke up to find yourself curled up on the couch, tucked in with the fuzzy plaid blanket that had somehow found its way back over to you. You groaned at the bright light that filtered in through your blinds, your head pounding from your hangover. Flopping a hand out in the direction of the coffee table, you reached for your phone, but your fingers came in contact with a piece of paper instead.

You grabbed it and held it in front of your face, immediately recognizing Benny’s handwriting.

Brought you pho for your stomach, but you were passed out. Left in the fridge.

P.S. Don’t think wine is good for a stomach ache.

P.P.S. Can’t believe you passed out in the middle of The Princess Bride, wtf!!!

Glancing sideways, you saw your water bottle and a container of Advil had been placed beside your phone.

—

Early on Tuesday evening, you were putting the finishing touches on your hair when you heard the sound of someone walking into your apartment. Well aware of who it was, you rolled your eyes and made no rush to greet him. Didn’t he have a date?

“Damn,” Benny whistled when you finally walked out into the living room to find him sprawled out on your couch, a bag of chips that’d he’d pilfered from your cabinet sitting open in his lap.

Like clockwork, a blooming bud of warmth unfurled in the pit of your chest under the weight of his stare (followed by a chastising remark from your heart to fucking let it go). Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you spun around, glancing down at the outfit you’d finally settled on. Jeans and a blouse ultimately won out over a dress in an attempt to keep things on the right side of casual, though you’d opted to then put the extra effort into your hair and makeup at the very least.

“Too much? Not enough?” you asked, uncertainty lingering in your tone.

“I mean it kinda feels like a waste for you to look that good if we’re just going to be sitting here eating takeout food, but I’m not complaining,” he clarified with a grin.

Wait, didn’t he have plans?

“I have a date,” you explained, and saying the words to Benny felt so wrong on your lips you nearly started to feel sick.

Benny’s hand froze midway on its journey to his mouth, a piece of a Dorito falling into his lap. “A date?” he asked, dumbfounded.

Willing yourself desperately not to make any self-serving assumptions based on his tone, you put your hands on your hips. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Benny genuinely looked to be at a loss for words, and he nearly fumbled when he finally replied, “No. Uh. Just didn’t know you were dating again.”

I’m not. I just need to stop thinking about you before I lose my mind.

You swallowed down the words you wanted to say, pushing them down deep as you regretfully offered him a different response. “We’re just doing trivia night. Frankie and Santiago are coming so it’s not weird.”

Benny raised an eyebrow, opened his mouth, and then shut it. After a moment, he inquired, “What’s tonight’s topic?”

“Star Wars…” you trailed off, already knowing what was coming.

He balked, jaw threatening to drop to the floor. “You’re bringing Frankie ‘Wait is that wheezing dude supposed to be his dad?’ Morales and Santiago ‘Phantom Menace Bitch’ Garcia…and you didn’t invite me?”

Well, when he put it like that, it did certainly sound like you had set your evening up for disaster. But even if Benny was free, you’d have to have been halfway out of your mind to invite him. The whole point of tonight was to get your mind off of the man you were hopelessly in love with, not to shove a scalding hot poker into your unrequited purgatory by placing his stupidly pretty, smiling face front and center while you were on a date.

“I thought you had a hot date tonight,” you retorted.

Benny snorted, nearly choking on a chip in the process. He coughed a few times and then looked at you, bewildered. “A fucking what?!”

You threw your hands into the air. “Santi mentioned it when we were on the river!”

Benny dramatically dropped his head back onto the arm of the couch. When he lifted it back up, he ran a hand through his hair and laughed. “Yeah, remember I started offering one-on-one lessons at the gym this week? That little old lady that always winks at me and brings me cookies after her pilates class had an appointment with me this afternoon.”

Santiago was a dead man walking. 

“So…you’re free tonight…” you trailed off.

“Nope,” he grinned. “I’m coming to trivia to make sure those idiots don’t ruin our team’s winning streak.”

You were interrupted by a knock at the door before you could process the kind of night that you were in for, and you turned to Benny, waving a finger threateningly. “Don’t scare him off!”

Benny snatched a napkin out of the box sitting on the coffee table, primly wiping the chip dust off of his fingers as he said in a mock-affronted tone, “Now why would I do something like that?”

When you opened the door, Dan from the cursed dating app stood in your doorway wearing black-rimmed glasses and a denim jacket decorated with an assortment of enamel pins. Though he wasn’t quite as tall as your best friend, he did indeed still bear a resemblance to Benny in person (albeit a nerdier version). 

“Hey,” he said with a smile, handing you a small bouquet of wildflowers.

You thanked him and ushered him inside, watching as he took in the collage of paintings hanging up in your entryway—frames that Benny had spent nearly four hours agonizing over with a laser level when he insisted on hanging them up for you recently.

Speaking of Benny, who was now casually leaning against the kitchen counter and flipping a wrapped packet of tea between his fingers, a cold feeling of mortification ran down your spine when you clocked the exact moment he recognized Dan from the dating app. As if your crush wasn’t obvious enough, bringing home a guy that looked like him would really do the trick. 

Dan eventually noticed Benny, and he startled for a moment. Though he was aware he’d be meeting your friends at the bar, he hadn’t known one of them would be at your apartment (and to be fair, neither did you). 

“Hey man, I’m Dan. Nice to meet you.” Your date stepped closer to Benny, sticking out a hand. 

“Likewise. Benny,” he nodded, offering him a firm handshake in return.

Making your way into the kitchen, you busied yourself searching for the glass vase that you knew was buried somewhere in there. At the sound of glass clinking against something, you looked up from where you were hunched over to see Benny closing the small cabinet door above the fridge, vase in hand.

“Thanks. Forgot about that cabinet!” you chirped, taking it from him to add some water before placing the flowers in it.

You set it down on the counter near the window, directly beside a little tropical plant in a purple pot that Benny had showed up with the other day.

When you finished, you turned around to find Benny staring at the flowers, though his eyes immediately snapped up to yours. He cleared his throat. “I was just heading out, gotta stop back at my place first anyway. I’ll see you guys there.” 

Normally, Benny would do something on the way out like ruffle your hair or nudge your foot with his. But this time, he walked right past you, slipping on his shoes and leaving without so much as a brush of your shoulders. And even though Dan was standing right there beside you, your apartment had suddenly never felt so empty before. 

You and Dan hit it off well enough on your drive to the bar in his dark blue sedan, a playlist that sounded like something you’d made yourself drifting through the speakers, and you tried to ignore the lingering sense of dread that hovered at the edges of your consciousness.

When your phone lit up from where it was perched on top of your thigh, your heart leapt in your chest as you saw Benny’s name flash across the screen. You bit back a laugh—he’d changed his name in your phone when the two of you were kicking back a case of beer late one night last week. 

Benny is so HOT: help!!

Furrowing your brows, you tapped out a response.

Yes?

A series of two selfies taken in Benny’s bathroom mirror came through, and he was donning a different Star Wars shirt in each one. 

Benny is so HOT: need to make sure i look cool when we win

You rolled your eyes, smiling to yourself as you told him to wear the second one, an obnoxious vintage green and blue tie dye design that you’d gotten him for Christmas a couple of years ago. 

Benny is so HOT: thanks baaaaaaabe

When you walked into the bar with Dan, you were surprised to see Will and Emelie sitting at your usual table for trivia as well.

“Thought you guys were busy?” you asked in surprise.

Emelie smirked, “We finished up early. It’d be a shame to miss Star Wars trivia night.”

“You mean it’d be a shame to miss Benny in full out nerd mode when he yells at Pope and Fish for fucking up half of the answers,” Will snorted.

After introductions were made, you and Dan grabbed the two remaining empty seats at the table, which placed you directly across from Benny—he'd somehow still beat you there.

“So, Dan. You like Star Wars?” Benny asked casually, taking a sip from the soda sitting in front of him.

Dan chuckled beside you, and while it was a pleasant sound, you couldn’t help but think about how it didn’t compare to the comforting rumble of laughter you were so used to hearing from your best friend. 

“Oh yeah. My dad basically raised me on the original trilogy,” he answered.

Once the game began, empty glasses began to accumulate on your table. As Frankie and Santi groped for wrong answers, Will and Emelie helped out where they could, and you found yourself playing referee between the other two men at the table, both of whom seemed determined to prove they were the real Star Wars expert. You did manage to shut both of them up when they were too busy getting sidetracked by a debate about a minor, one-off character and nearly missed a question, which you answered yourself while they were distracted.

Eventually, you excused yourself to go order another drink at the bar, your mind drifting as you waited for the bartender to acknowledge you. 

Will’s voice shook you out of your stupor. “So…your date looks like Benny,” he commented, eyes fixated on the football game playing on the television behind the bar. 

You forced your voice to remain steady as you replied, “Are you insinuating something, William?”

Will raised his eyebrows, putting his hands up in surrender. “Just making an observation.”

The last thing you wanted was to unpack the sordid details of your pathetic, unrequited Benny Miller saga right there at the bar with Will. Will, who was always so straightforward and calculated about everything. Will, who always knew more than he let on. Will, who would be kind, but likely wouldn’t sugarcoat it, when he confirmed your suspicions that your crush on his brother was nothing more than a complete and total waste of time. 

“There’s such a thing as coincidences,” you stated mildly, picking up the glass that had been placed in front of you.

“Sure,” he responded as you began to walk away, though he didn’t sound at all convinced. 

When you returned to the table, Benny was pointing an aggravated finger at Frankie. “Fish, if you mix up one more answer with Star Trek, I’m tying you to a chair and forcing you to watch all of the Star Wars films on repeat.”

“You’re in a mood, tonight, Benny,” Santiago commented.

Benny whirled on him. “You, too, Pope. You both fuckin’ suck. How did you forget that Luke and Leia are brother and sister?!”

“They kissed, it’s confusing!” Santi complained.

Benny flicked a peanut shell at his face as you settled back down into your chair. 

After your team somehow still achieved yet another trivia night victory two hours later, Benny excused himself from the table to make his way over to the jukebox in the corner. However, when the next couple of songs were ones that you knew he wouldn’t be caught dead listening to, let alone paying money to play, you scanned the room for his tall frame in confusion. You eventually found him leaning against a table instead, an easy grin on his face as he chatted with two girls.

Santi, having also seen what Benny was doing, leaned in to mutter to Frankie, “Don’t know why he’s so damn stubborn. He could take both of them home tonight if he wanted to.”

The mental images that cropped up in your head unbidden sent a fresh wave of nausea careening through your stomach. 

Without allowing yourself to think too much about it, you turned to Dan, who was idly chatting with Emelie and Will. “Are you busy Friday night?”

Dan looked surprised, and the corners of his lips turned upward in a smile. “Nope. You wanna hang out again?”

You nodded, resolutely ignoring the feeling of your friends’ gazes burning on you. “Benny's an MMA fighter. We all usually try to go out and support him at his fights when we can, and his next one is on Friday."

Dan finished his drink and nodded. “Never been to one, but that sounds fun. I’m in.”

When you all went to leave the bar later, Santiago and Frankie called a cab, and Emelie, who hadn’t had anything to drink, drove herself and Will home. Dan’s car was parked beside Benny’s red pick up truck, and your best friend eyed your date curiously as he went to open the driver’s side door. 

“You driving home, Dan?” he asked, his words laced with an odd tone that you weren’t used to hearing from him.

Dan looked up at him from across the roof of the car and shrugged, adjusting his glasses with two fingers. “Yeah, I mean, I only had a few drinks. I’m fine, man. It’s not far.”

Benny gently pushed the passenger door, which you had just pulled open slightly, closed. “Well I didn’t drink tonight. You live far? I’ll drop both of you off, she’s just around the corner from my place.” He gestured to you when he said the last part.

Though he seemed hesitant to accept the offer, Dan eventually relented. “You know what? Sure, why not. My place is pretty close. Thanks.”

Benny’s posture relaxed slightly, though there was a bite to his words when he made his way over to the passenger side of his own vehicle and added, “I know my truck isn’t as environmentally conscious as your little hybrid over there, but at least you guys’ll get home safe.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to Benny as he opened the door for you with a flourish, his face painted with innocence. 

As if everything else that occurred throughout the day hadn’t been awkward enough, all of it paled in comparison to sitting sandwiched in the truck between Benny and Dan. Eager to avoid unnecessary conversation, you quickly fumbled for the radio knobs.

Benny’s right knee hovered against yours as Dan hopped out of the car when you arrived at his house ten minutes later, and neither of you acknowledged the fact that you didn’t bother scooting over toward the window once the passenger seat was vacated.

Between work and wedding scrambling, you didn’t have a chance to see Benny over the next couple of days, and you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse for the confusing mess of emotions that stormed your insides like a vicious tropical storm. While part of you almost wanted to revoke the invite you’d extended to Dan, you told yourself whatever flickers of false hope that you thought you were feeling were nothing more than a fool’s errand. You had to stop reading into things. You needed to fucking get over Benny. 

When Friday evening finally rolled around, Benny’s contact photo (a picture of his head thrown back in laughter that never failed to make your knees weak) lit up across your phone screen. 

“Hey. Me and Will are gonna swing by to pick you up for the match in like twenty. Sound good?”

You’d neglected to inform him that Dan was picking you up, and for whatever reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him now, either. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you there!”

Though he seemed confused by your response, given that you normally drove with him to his matches more often than not, he didn’t question it further. Because Dan ended up running a bit late, you didn’t get a chance to peek into the locker room to wish Benny luck beforehand, which was unlike you. As you made your way into the rowdy, crowded room where the ring was, you made a beeline for the cage, waving a hand to get Benny’s attention. 

The hard expression on his face morphed into something far softer when his eyes caught the thumbs up you were giving him, and he nodded in your direction with a smile. However, you could have sworn his expression flickered for a second when he saw Dan standing behind you.

Although Benny had beaten this particular opponent several times before, the match proved to be a struggle.

“Man, Benny’s really off of his game tonight,” Santi sighed, and you flinched as you watched your best friend take a heavy hit square in the jaw.

“Yeah, he seems distracted,” Frankie commented, scratching his chin.

You chewed at your nails anxiously as you watched Benny stumble. His fighting style was all wrong—it was sloppy and uncoordinated, and there was an erratic edge to it that prevented him from falling into his normally focused rhythm.

Blood streamed down the side of Benny’s face when he eventually strode out of the ring, bristling with irritation over the loss. You stood with intent to follow him to the locker room, but Will came up beside you and laid a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s in a mood tonight. I know he hates losing, but he usually doesn’t get this riled up. Let me knock some sense into his thick head, you go enjoy the rest of your date.” He nodded toward where Dan was sitting on one of the benches beside Santi and Frankie.

It felt wrong to drive away from the parking lot without checking on Benny, the sharp tug on your heart pulling your eyes to the side-view mirror of Dan’s car as if you’d see him standing there waiting for you to turn around. Dan could likely tell your mind was elsewhere, and both of you wordlessly acknowledged that he’d be dropping you off and nothing more when he pulled up to the curb beside your apartment building. 

Shortly after settling in on your couch in more comfortable clothes, you texted Benny to see how he was feeling and if he was home yet. You’d probably head over there if he was. However, when another two and a half hours passed and several of your messages went unanswered, you began to grow concerned. 

You lifted your phone to your ear, listening to the steady ringing noise as you tried to call Benny for the third time. When it went to voicemail again, you groaned in frustration, dropping the device onto the cushion beside you. Benny never ignored your texts and calls, where the fuck was he? The unkind corner of your brain readily supplied an image of Benny with one of the many various girls that liked to enthusiastically cheer him on from the sidelines at his matches, and an undignified noise escaped your mouth as you pressed the palms of your hands to your eyes in frustration.

A moment later, you were startled by the sound of a knock at your door. Who would be showing up unannounced this late? Normally Benny would be the only answer to that question, but he didn’t knock. He had a key.

You strode over to the entryway and peered through the peephole, surprised to see your best friend standing there with his hands in his pockets. Confused, you opened the door and immediately asked, “Since when do you knock, Miller?”

He fucking reeked of alcohol, and he swayed slightly on his feet. Ignoring your question, his eyes focused on the living room behind you as he asked, “Where is he? I wanna tell him that he’s not good enough for you.”

What?

Your heart stumbled in your chest, and you gripped the door handle in an attempt to ground yourself. 

“Dan isn’t here,” you said simply, stepping aside and opening the door wider as you gestured for him to come inside.

Benny’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he paused in the middle of his ungraceful attempt to kick his shoes off and indignantly exclaimed, “He didn’t want to hang out with you after the match? The fuck is wrong with him?”

You cleared your throat before grabbing his forearm and tugging him in the direction of the kitchen. “I didn’t want to hang out with him after. I actually wanted to check on you and see if you were alright, but you’ve been ignoring my texts and calls,” you snapped.

He at least looked slightly embarrassed as you opened the fridge and shoved a bottle of water into his hands. “Sorry. I…had a few drinks after Will dropped me off, and I lost track of time.”

You shot him a judgemental look. “You do realize that the wedding is tomorrow, and Emelie’s going to kill you if you show up looking like hell with a hangover.”

Benny scrubbed a hand over his face. “I know, I know. I fucked up.”

You sighed. “The ceremony doesn’t start till four, at least. You need to get some sleep. Go take my bed, you’ll probably roll right off the couch like this. I’ll sleep out here.”

Though you could tell Benny looked like he wanted to say more, and everything inside of you was screaming for you to ask him why he thought he could judge who was and wasn’t good enough to be with you, this wasn’t the time or place to open a door that you might not want to step inside of. Not the night before his brother’s wedding. However, when you turned to go back toward the living room, Benny stopped you by wrapping a hand around your wrist. 

No. He was drunk. Benny was always even more touchy with you than usual with alcohol in his system; this was nothing new. It didn’t mean anything. 

Another night in his arms would fucking ruin you. You couldn’t.

But your resolve was hopeless up against the pleading expression on his face. You were so fucking weak for this man, it was pathetic.

And that’s how you found yourself tangled up in the warmth of Benny’s sleeping embrace once again, though it felt inexplicably more intimate when you were entangled under the sheets of this bed now. The bed that you slept in alone each and every night. The bed in which you’d entertained far too many fantasies starring the man beside you to even bother trying to keep count. For all that you thought that the first time was going to leave an aching dent in your heart, you knew that this was infinitely worse. 

You dozed in and out of sleep, hyper aware of the way Benny’s steady breathing occasionally rustled your hair. The way his fingers lingered gently on your shoulder. The way he hooked his ankle around yours and pulled it closer in his sleep.

Hours later, when your phone screen read 4:15 a.m., you slipped out of bed and tiredly shuffled into the kitchen for a glass of water. As you returned to your bedroom and laid back down, Benny’s blue eyes cracked open. 

“‘m sorry,” he said, voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

“It’s okay,” you assured him gently.

Benny propped himself up on an elbow, still slightly drunk but far more sober than he’d been when he collapsed in your bed. “S’not. I was jealous.”

Your blood rushed in your ears as your heartbeat accelerated at his admission. “You…were?” you asked carefully.

“Yeah. I know it was real fuckin’ immature of me to show up here drunk off my ass. But…you deserve better than that guy. You always have.” His eyes burned into yours.

“I’m just tired of being alone, Benny,” you sighed.

Benny was quiet for a moment until he replied, “I’m right here.”

“That’s not what I mean…” you trailed off, self preservation refusing to let you twist his words into something that wasn’t there. Pillow talk with rose tinted glasses was a fucking dangerous game.

“I know what you mean,” Benny said firmly, reaching out to tentatively rest a hand against your cheek.

“Do you?” You wondered if the rapid beating of your heart was reverberating across the mattress. 

“I do,” he breathed out, his breath hot as it fanned over your lips. When had your faces gotten so close?

You didn’t know where’d you unearthed the stroke of bravery that allowed the next words to leave your mouth. “Then show me.”

The cacophony of noise and thrum of anxiety in your brain hushed to a muted hum as Benny slid his hand to the back of your head, and anticipation shot up your spine as his nose brushed against yours. Your hand drifted to the collar of his shirt, thumb brushing over a frayed edge before sliding upward to thread into his tousled hair. There was an audible hitch in his breath, his lips parting slightly.

“Yeah?” His lips ghosted over yours as the belated question fell from his mouth, one last chance for you to step back from the ledge.

Instead, you finally let go of the frayed rope you’d been clinging to for years and jumped.

“Yeah.”

And then Benny’s lips crashed into yours in a bruising kiss.

Kissing Benny felt like freefalling. It felt like finally giving in and swimming into the pull of an insistent current. It felt like the first vivid rays of sunrise and the last glowing winks of sunset. 

It felt like coming home. 

You didn’t know how much time passed as your mouth moved against his, charting new territory that you wanted to memorize until you were breathless. And as the kiss grew more heated, you pushed yourself impossibly closer into Benny’s arms, your body flush against his, allowing you to feel the evidence of the erection that strained against the front of his sweatpants. Nerve endings already alight from the desperate, needy way his lips were engulfing yours, you pressed your hips into his, a flood of pleasure curling in your belly as your hot core pressed against his hard shaft. 

“Fuck,” Benny moaned against your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You keened as he reciprocated the action, firmly dragging his length along the apex of your thighs, where your underwear and sleep shorts were quickly dampening with arousal.

“Benny,” you whined, letting his name fall from your lips in a way that only the four private walls of your bedroom had become quite accustomed to during many a lonely night. 

He groaned huskily in response, hands flying down to grip your waist as he rolled onto his back and pulled you on top of him. As he returned one hand to your head to pull your mouth back down to his, his other remained firmly planted on your hip as he rutted up into you.

His kisses grew sloppier when you rolled your hips against him, your tongues sliding together, his teeth grazing your bottom lip. The coiling tension in your gut made you quiver as you felt the thickness of Benny’s shaft drag against your throbbing entrance over your clothes, your slick folds sliding easily over your soaking wet underwear.

Benny whispered your name roughly, and you opened your eyes to meet his gaze just as the fire in your abdomen unfurled in a wave of white-hot heat, your climax washing over you. Gasping at the pleasure that flooded your body, you stole another kiss, and Benny moaned into your mouth, arms wrapping around you tightly as his own orgasm punched through him.

You carefully rolled off of him as you both caught your breath, but Benny pulled you sideways back to his chest, holding you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head, too tired to make his way to the bathroom to clean himself up.  

There were too many things you wanted to say. Too many things you needed to tell him.

But instead, you gave in to the tide of exhaustion that tugged insistently at your consciousness, and you fell into a dreamless sleep in Benny’s arms.

When you woke up back up later as the sun was pouring in through the parted curtains in your room, you found that you were alone in your bed. Alone in your apartment.

There was no note on your nightstand from Benny. 

No text messages.

No missed calls.

There was nothing.

He left.

—-

Feedback in the form of comments, reblogs, and/or asks is always greatly appreciated!

Part 2 | SERIES MASTERLIST | Part 4

*Benny's POV during Dan's arrival at your apartment

[freya-hudson]

where: fae's florist with: @gabyharrisonx

"Okay so... most important question of the day so far..." she began as she placed freshly cut lilacs in the vase by the counter, "When I go to New York in a couple of weeks are you coming?" Freya was only going for a long weekend; she didn't have to worry about Fae's either because her mom would be taking over for the three days she was to be absent. Plus, she wanted to give herself a break before the back to back wedding's she had scheduled in. "I'm staying at Ed's again so there's plenty of room." Ed was her friend from college, one that along with his partner Mickey had still stayed in contact with Freya and vice versa.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

do you know any other fics like take it like a man where it’s based on a movie and blaine’s the main character?

Hi - i wasn't sure if you wanted fics based on movies generally; or the specific plot of Take it like a Man which was based on Legally Blonde. Here are some fics based on movies where Blaine is the main character, also check out our movie tag. Come back to us if it's not what you want. ~Jen

Mr. Congeniality by ifinallyfoundsomeone

Bomb threats are being sent to the newly made Mr. America pageant and FBI Agent Blaine Anderson has taken up the position of being an undercover agent to save the pageant. With some extreme grooming and guidance from his pageant consultant, Blaine infiltrates the world of Men’s pageants. Making some interesting friends, and maybe he even winning the heart of his slave driver pageant consultant, the gorgeous and fascinating, Kurt Hummel.

~~~~~

Secret Language of Blooms and Love by etextraordinary

Blaine is a florist in New York City. His shop specializes in the Victorian art of floriography, the language of flowers. Blane makes sure that each of his arrangements is both beautiful and portrays the correct meaning. Kurt has Blaine do his wedding flowers, but he is not expecting his entire life to change. Based on the movie Imagine Me and You.

~~~~

Catch me if you can by afterthenovels

In the end, catching Kurt Hummel is definitely not what Blaine expected.

Special Agent Blaine Anderson catches con-man and art thief extraordinaire Kurt Hummel twice, and on the second time they strike a deal. They're supposed to just solve white collar crimes together, but they might even end up solving each other in the process.

A White Collar AU.

[swan-of-sunrise]

A Spellbinding Wedding (Spellbinding-Verse Interlude)

Summary: (Y/N) and Loki’s big day has finally arrived, but will mischief and superhero shenanigans succeed in derailing the happiest day of their lives?

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 10.9k

Warnings/Disclaimers: Almost 11k words of pure, tooth-rotting fluff lol

A/N: We’ve finally arrived at the wedding of Loki and the Cosmic Sorceress! If you haven't already, I recommend checking out the Spellbinding Playlist; I added a bunch of wedding/romantic songs I imagine they'd choose for their special day and they're all great, so go ahead and give it a listen!Thank you all so much for reading and for waiting like six months for this thing lol, and I hope that you enjoy!

A Spellbinding Wedding October 8th, 2016 Stark Mansion New York City, New York (Previous One-Shot)

“So, (Y/L/N), in just a few short hours you’re gonna be officially – pause for dramatic effect – off the market! Can you tell us what exactly’s going through the beautiful bride’s head right now?”

(Y/N) briefly paused her mascara application and pretended to ponder Clint’s overly-exaggerated question. “Whether or not it would be rude of me to drop that camcorder through a portal to Muspelheim and lock you in the basement until after the ceremony.”

The archer snickered before jumping up to sit on the dresser behind her and turning the camcorder around to directly address the camera. “As you can see, your mom gets a little cranky when she has to wake up early. Not sure if that’ll go away in the future or just get worse, so…either way, good luck with that, kiddos!”

“When you volunteered to film the ceremony and parts of the reception for us, I really should’ve questioned it more.” (Y/N) resumed applying her mascara while fighting back a smile. “At least any future children of ours will watch this, see just how ridiculous their Uncle Clint is and know that we weren’t exaggerating. Oh! Speaking of children, are Peter’s friends here yet? Tony was supposed to send Happy into Queens to pick them up an hour ago, but I haven’t heard anything about them since.”

“Yeah, they’re all hanging out in the old lab downstairs and Tony’s helping ‘em prep their sound equipment as we speak; you and Loki do know that there’s literally thousands of professional DJ’s living in New York you could’ve hired to run your wedding reception that aren’t sixteen and can actually drive themselves to their venues, right?”

“Says the friend of ours who practically begged to be the videographer even though he’s a professional archer by trade…” She mumbled under her breath, twisting the mascara wand back into its tube just as someone knocked on her suite’s door. “Come in!”

The door opened and Natasha popped her head into the room, her long red hair still wrapped in curlers, a clipboard in her hands and a comm link secured in her ear. The spy was taking her many duties as Matron of Honor very seriously, treating the day’s celebration as if it were a highly-classified mission and not a mid-sized wedding located at Tony’s family mansion; each of their teammates had been assigned specific duties and responsibilities and throughout the morning, Natasha regularly checked in with them to ensure that their tasks were going smoothly, which explained why she was shooting Clint the trademark glare she normally reserved for Hydra agents and invading aliens. “Last I checked, Barton, you’re supposed to be overseeing the florists in the garden and not raising the bride’s blood pressure right before the wedding.”

Clint jumped down from the dresser and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, no need to go all Black Widow on me, Tasha.” He crossed the room and pressed a chaste kiss onto (Y/N)’s cheek before winking at her through the vanity’s mirror. “I’ll see you at the altar, (Y/L/N)!”

Natasha gave the archer one final glare as he hurried out of the suite while whistling ‘Chapel of Love’ and shook her head when the door closed behind him. “I swear, I’m gonna have to start using my Widow Bites on these people if they don’t start being more helpful…” The spy turned her attention to (Y/N) and her concentrated frown morphed into a smile. “Aw (Y/N), you look stunning and you haven’t even put on your dress yet! I’m serious, it’s like you’re glowing or-” She cut herself off and held a hand up to her ear to listen to a voice in her comm. “Wait a sec, Bruce says that the caterers just arrived. Did you want me to get you anything before I check in on them?”

“Is it too early in the day for a glass of champagne?”

“Not if there’s a splash of orange juice in it,” Natasha answered with a mischievous grin. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

The door closed behind the spy and for the first time that morning, the room fell silent. (Y/N) sat back in her seat and let out a sigh of relief; she loved her friends and teammates dearly, of course, but all she wanted to do was prepare for the wedding in peace and with as little stress as possible. The wedding was slightly larger than they’d originally anticipated, with over a hundred guests from Midgard, Asgard and Alfheim all gathered together at one of Tony Stark’s family mansions in the heart of New York City, and with the ink still drying on the three realms’ fledgling peace treaties, handling the guests and ensuring that they remain peaceful would be a difficult task to carry out on a day already filled to the brim with difficult tasks. So far, her friends were doing an excellent job with ensuring that everything was running smoothly but after living the life of a superhero for over a year, she knew just how quickly a situation could shift from calm to catastrophic.

“I wonder of Loki’s feeling just as anxious about all this as I am,” (Y/N) murmured to herself, giving the photograph of her soon-to-be husband she’d tucked into the edge of her vanity’s mirror a smile before setting her sights on her un-styled hair, hoping that the intricate task would serve to distract her from the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Brother, what exactly is this gloopy green substance?”

“It’s an avocado and green tea mud mask.”

“…And why have we applied it to our faces?”

“It removes impurities from the skin while unclogging pores and absorbing excess oil.” Before Thor had a chance to ask another question, Loki brusquely continued. “Yes, it’s meant to relax you and no, you cannot eat it.”

Instead of becoming annoyed by Loki’s shortness, his brother chuckled. “In that case, these mud masks must be defective because you’re anything but relaxed, brother.” With a defeated sigh, Loki removed the cucumber slices resting on his eyelids and sat up, tossing the slices into the nearby trashcan and making his way into the suite’s bathroom to wash the half-dried mud mask off; he was halfway done when Thor entered and leaned against the door-frame, a look of concern visible even beneath his own thick mud mask. “Loki, are you all right? You haven’t been yourself all morning, and it’s beginning to worry me. You’re not having second thoughts about the wedding, are you?”

“No! No, of course not,” Loki emphatically shook his head. “I’ve been waiting for this day for quite a long time, believe me, but I…well, it’s an awfully significant life change, isn’t it? I know that what I’m feeling is only a natural reaction to such a change, of course, but a part of me can’t help but wonder if I’m even deserving of this life I’m about to embark on with (Y/N).”

His brother nodded in understanding. “I believe that Wilson refers to them as intrusive thoughts; unwelcome, involuntary thoughts with no basis in truth or fact that can manifest as a result of several forms of trauma.” When Loki raised his brows in surprise, Thor sighed and rolled his eyes in mild exasperation. “Believe it or not, brother, I do listen to what others say when they’re around me. The important point to be made is that they’re wrong; as your designated Best Man, it’s my duty to ease these irrational worries of yours and I believe that I have just the thing!”

Thor disappeared into the bedroom and quickly returned with an ornate bottle and two glasses, and Loki’s jaw nearly dropped at the sight of the familiar flagon. “That’s one of Asgard’s last remaining bottles of the great Hoder’s spiced mead. It’s to be drunk on the most special of occasions and only with the Allfather’s express permission…”

“I took a page out of your book and simply borrowed a bottle on my way out of the palace.” The older man grinned proudly at his uncharacteristic act of subterfuge and Loki couldn’t help but chuckle. “The Allfather might not agree, but my brother’s wedding and all the happiness it will surely bring him is a special occasion.”

As Loki’s throat burned and he fought back the sudden tears brought on by his brother’s support, he watched as Thor poured the amber-colored liquid out into the two glasses and pressed one into his hand, the corner of his mouth curving upwards while he raised the glass. “Well then, to happiness.”

“To happiness,” Thor echoed, and the two brothers clinked their glasses together before downing the spiced mead in one go. “Another!”

There was a gentle knock on the suite’s door and Frigga’s voice called out, “Loki? Thor?”

“Oh, Hel!”

Both men scrambled to hide the evidence of their treasonous transgression, shoving the spiced mead and glasses unceremoniously under the sink and rushing out of the bathroom to open the door for their mother; the Queen of Asgard was dressed spectacularly in a pale turquoise dress and matching wide-brimmed hat, looking just as elegant in Midgardian clothing as she always did on Asgard. Frigga was beaming as she stepped into the suite and reached up to hold Loki’s face between her hands. “Oh, I can hardly believe that my darling little one is getting married today, and to such a wonderful young woman as well! How are you feeling, Loki? Have you eaten anything at all?”

“I’m fine, Mother, just a little anxious.” Loki matched her infectious smile with one of his own. “After all, it’s not every day that three realms of the cosmos come together to celebrate a wedding.”

“You don’t have anything to worry about, because your brother and your friends are doing such an excellent job at keeping everything running smoothly.” Frigga gave them both a knowing look. “Perhaps another glass of Hoder’s spiced mead will soothe your nerves? Now, be a dear and make mine a double, please.”

Loki and Thor exchanged a wide-eyed look of surprise as their mother crossed the suite and began brushing the stray pieces of lint off their suit jackets hanging near the window, humming a cheerful tune to herself as she did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pulling back to admire her handiwork, (Y/N) smiled brightly and twirled Cassie’s chair around to face her vanity’s mirror. “There, all finished! What do you think, Cassie?”

Their flower girl-slash-ring bearer squealed in joy and turned to her with the widest smile on her glittering face. “It’s so pretty! I love it!” She threw her arms around her middle and tightly hugged her. “Do I look like a fairy from Alf…Alf…?”

“Alfheim? I’m not sure, actually, I’ve never seen a fairy there before.” Shrugging, (Y/N) glanced over at Elora, who was preoccupied with unzipping the large garment bag containing her wedding dress. “Elora has, though! Haven’t you, Elora?”

The General of the Alfheimian Army looked up from her task with a small shudder. “Unfortunately. The little beasts possess needle-sharp teeth and use their woodland magic to mask their presence right before viciously attacking any who dare trespass into their domain.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened in alarm but before she could chastise the Alfheimian for her bluntness, Cassie clapped her hands together and let out a delighted laugh. “That is so cool!”

A knock on her suite’s door drew (Y/N) away from Elora and Cassie’s animated discussion of the various magical beasts that lived on Alfheim, and she opened the door to reveal Sam and Bucky; both men were already dressed in their suits, minus their floral boutonnieres, but her calm demeanor vanished when she caught sight of the panicked expressions they were desperately trying to mask. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong, doll-”

“Yeah, everything’s goin’ according to plan, (Y/L/N), promise-”

“Nat had us come up here to…um…”

“To see if you needed any help with…anything.”

She arched an unimpressed brow that almost instantly silenced both men. “Do I really have to ask you two again?”

“…Scott lost the wedding rings!” (Y/N)’s jaw dropped and Bucky let out an indignant noise as Sam raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, Buck, but she’s got the same death glare my mom used to give me! Yeah, Scott put the rings down and now he can’t find them anywhere, and he can’t even use the ants to help ‘cause he didn’t bring his suit along.”

The super soldier hastily added, “Nat’s trying her best to jog his memory, but…well, you know Nat. I think she might end up making the poor guy faint before finding out where he might’ve lost the rings.”

“Okay, okay…” Rubbing her temples in an attempt to quell the rapidly-growing headache, (Y/N) took a steadying breath and forced herself to remain calm as she began formulating a plan. “All right, my hair and makeup’s already done, so let me find some slippers and we’ll go find Nat and Scott. I might be able to use my Alf Seidr to try and find them-” Both Sam and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. “-But not a word of this to Loki, okay? The last thing he needs today is any added stress…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arching a curious brow, Loki examined the items laid out on the coffee table before glancing up at his teammates. “This is a Midgardian tradition? It seems a little silly that these random objects can determine the outcome of a marriage.”

“Yeah, it’s a good luck thing here on Earth, Lokes, like that old Saints jersey Sam wears during every football season.” Clint held up the camcorder and pointed the lens at Loki as he continued. “Your dad’s a pretty smart guy, kiddos, but don’t let that fool you; he once thought your mom was dying when she was only having a little brain freeze. Remember, Lokes?”

“Children, if you’ve ever wondered why your mother once attempted to hit your dear Uncle Clint over the head with a coffee-table book, then now you know,” Loki snickered as the archer flushed pink and rolled his eyes.

A reluctant smile played on Steve’s lips while he finished fastening his cuff-links across the suite. “I hate to say it, but Barton’s right about it being good luck here. ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.’ Your mother gifted you a set of cloak clasps for today so that’s your ‘something old,’ your tuxedo counts as your ‘something new,’ Tony’s lending you one of his nicer Rolex watches for your ‘something borrowed,’ and your ‘something blue’ are the navy blue suspenders you’re wearing.”

Loki hummed in interest. “I suppose that a little extra luck wouldn’t go amiss…”

Just as he slipped the borrowed Rolex onto his wrist, a visibly panicked Thor burst into the suite and made a bee-line to Steve. “Captain Rogers, there’s an urgent matter that I must speak to you about!”

“If it’s that Tony wrote a borderline explicit speech to read at the reception, then we all know and Nat already took care of-”

“No, no, it’s not that, but we really should discuss this matter out in the hall-”

“What is it, Thor?” Loki asked, tilting his head in confusion as he took in his brother’s unusually pale face and arching a disapproving brow when he proceeded to badly explain away his concern. “Brother, surely you haven’t forgotten that I’m the God of Lies? Whatever it is, I’m sure that we’ll be able to handle it before the ceremony begins.”

Thor swallowed and anxiously bit his lip before blurting out, “A wizard is currently battling a space worm out on the lawn.”

“What?!” Loki, Steve and Clint all exclaimed in unison.

“It just appeared out of nowhere and started wreaking havoc across the grounds, but then a wizard stepped out of a portal and started fighting it! Stark and Rhodes are already on their way to help but it seems that the beast is indestructible!”

With his jaw clenched tight in mounting agitation, Loki stood from his seat and summoned his emerald-green magic. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” A shimmer of light enveloped his body and in the blink of an eye, his wedding attire morphed into his Asgardian battle armor and daggers appeared in his grasp. “The beast and this so-called wizard will soon regret the very moment they dared to step foot on this property.”

Steve shrugged off his tuxedo jacket and reached for the red, white and blue shield propped up beside one of the suite’s armchair. “Barton, keep the caterers and florists away from the lawn, and make sure the guests stay inside and away from the windows.”

“On it.”

“And not a word of this to (Y/N), all right?” All three men nodded in agreement and Loki’s grip tightened around the hilts of his daggers. “The last thing she needs today is any added stress…”

As the trio of men hurried outside, a part of Loki wondered if he’d been tricked into believing that a cosmic monster was in the process of battling a sorcerer and that it was all some sort of elaborate prank concocted by his brother and friends to ease his pre-wedding jitters. However, that spark of hope was quickly extinguished when Steve threw the back door open and was forced to jump back to avoid being struck by Rhodes’ flailing body falling from the sky.

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna feel that one for a couple of days,” Rhodes groaned in pain and allowed Steve to hoist his armor-clad body to his feet. “Either of you guys wanna tell me what an ugly-ass space worm is doing here in New York? ‘Cause it’s definitely not here to wish the bride and groom its best!”

The familiar sound of repulsor blasts intermingled with the booming roars caused all four men to turn and watch as Tony darted around the tentacles of an enormous pink creature and a dark-haired man wearing a burgundy cape conjured orange-hued magic to counter its vicious attacks. “Earth has second-rate sorcerers now, how delightful…” Loki rolled his eyes and turned to the others. “It’s an Abilisk, a cosmic creature that feeds off significantly-sized energy sources, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if that cheap magician down there summoned it here out of pure incompetency.”

“Let’s deal with the Abilisk first, brother, and then we’ll confront the wizard later!” With a burst of lightning, Thor flew off towards the enraged creature and attempted to slam Mjolnir against its skull, but he was quickly swatted aside by one of its flailing tentacles.

Loki and Steve exchanged a look with Rhodes before joining the battle; the Air Force colonel attempted to shoot it with one of his suit’s many guns but was unsuccessful due to the creature’s impenetrable hide and no matter how twisted its own tentacles became due to the super soldier’s impressive athleticism, the beast remained standing and overwhelmingly angry. After throwing a handful of emerald-green magic at a tentacle to stop it from slamming into Steve’s back, Loki looked over to see the bearded sorcerer performing a spell nearby. “Care to introduce yourself and explain why you’ve brought an Abilisk to my wedding?” He yelled over the creature’s deafening roars.

“My name’s Doctor Stephen Strange, I’m a Master of the Mystic Arts, the guardian of the New York Sanctum in Greenwich Village and I most certainly did not summon an Abilisk here!” The sorcerer shouted back as he threw two semi-circular protective shields at the Abilisk’s face, where they exploded on impact and disoriented the enraged creature further. “Someone here at this mansion opened an inter-dimensional portal and let this creature come through, and as soon I arrived to send it back, my sling-ring was stolen from me by an unchecked summoning spell!”

“Sling-ring?”

“Yes, it’s what allows me to channel the magic needed to open inter-dimensional portals between any two points within the universe and without it, I can’t send the Abilisk back to where it came from!”

Loki was quickly filled with a sneaking suspicion about the whereabouts of the sorcerer’s sling-ring, but he prayed to the Norns that he was wrong as he called out to the others, “Does anyone here have access to Romanoff’s comm link? I think she may be able to shed some much-needed light on the situation!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The air around (Y/N) crackled and hummed with magical energy as she used her Alf Seidr to sense her surroundings and a familiar tugging sensation in her stomach preceded a strange weight in her outstretched left hand. She opened her eyes and her excitement instantly turned to annoyance when she was met with the sight of yet another unfamiliar ring; the one resting on her open palm looked different from the rest, almost reminding her of a pair of brass knuckles but with strange etchings across its bronzed surface. “Well, this definitely isn’t what I’m seeking…” She tossed the object into the basket of other rings she’d inadvertently summoned while searching for the lost wedding rings and sighed. “Do any of you have any bright ideas?”

Scott, Natasha, Sam and Bucky all shook their heads from their spots across the laboratory, and the ex-convict was the first to speak. “I-I’m really, really sorry about this, (Y/N), I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, Scott, I know you didn’t mean to lose the rings…” (Y/N) rubbed her temple in an effort to quell her raging stress-induced headache as she considered what to do next. “I’ll just have to try the spell again, then maybe it will-”

“Tony?” They all looked over to see a frowning Natasha listening to her comm link. “Okay, slow down, I can’t hear what you’re…wait, what wizard ring? Yeah, Scott lost the rings and (Y/N)’s been using her magic to try and find ‘em, but…” The spy’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped at whatever the billionaire was saying through the comm. “Oh shit.”

(Y/N) frowned. “What is it, Nat?”

Before Natasha could answer, the wall nearest to (Y/N) suddenly exploded and she had just enough time to summon a protective bubble of magic to encase them as chunks of stone and debris began raining down. The dust was beginning to settle when she flicked her wrists to remove the shield, her brows rising in surprise as she recognized her future brother-in-law extricating himself from the rubble. Thor’s blue eyes widened comically when he spotted her standing before him and he swallowed nervously before giving her a small wave. “H-Hello, Lady (Y/N). Shouldn’t you be off preparing for the ceremony?”

“What’s going on, Thor?”

“Nothing, nothing, just an intense arm-wrestling match with your delightful Alfheimian friends; for one so small, Myriani has quite the arm!”

“Thor.”

Natasha stepped forward and gestured towards the comm link in her ear. “According to Tony, there’s a giant space worm wreaking havoc on the lawn that you unintentionally summoned here with your Alf Seidr, and the only person who can get rid of it is a wizard-doctor who lives in Greenwich Village but you accidentally stole his magic ring.”

“God, just put me back in the damn ice…” Bucky groaned as he dropped his head into his vibranium hand.

Sam reached into the basket of rings and withdrew the odd-looking shape made of engraved brass. “I’m no expert on wizards, (Y/L/N), but this kinda looks like it could be magical to me.”

(Y/N) took the ring from Sam and with a wave of her hand, she transformed her silk robe and slippers into her Cosmic Sorceress uniform and marched through the hole in the laboratory wall. There was indeed a towering pink-skinned creature flailing its many tentacles as her friends and teammates fought their hardest against it; Tony and Rhodey were firing their suit’s repulsors and dodging its tentacles in the air while Steve, Loki and an odd-looking man wearing a red cloak tried all they could to draw the creature’s attention away from the mansion. Ignoring the guilt beginning to eat away at her, (Y/N) strode across the lawn and called out over the deafening roars, “Doctor, catch!”

The wizard-doctor looked over and raised his hand just in time to catch his ring, quickly slipping it into his fingers and rotating his hands in a circular motion to create a sparking orange portal directly beneath the creature; it released a final roar as it dropped down into the portal and disappeared, leaving the grounds of Stark Mansion silent. The stranger closed the portal he’d opened and breathed a sigh of relief before setting his sights on an embarrassed (Y/N). “Your royal highness, would you care to explain what’s going on and why you took my sling ring?”

(Y/N) fidgeted with her finger-less gloves and attempted to smile, but it appeared as more of a grimace. “First of all, I’m very sorry for all the trouble this has caused you, Doctor…”

“Strange. Doctor Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts and the guardian of the New York Sanctum.” They shook hands and she silently took note of the unique magical energy radiating from him. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N), former trainee librarian turned Cosmic Sorceress, the Crown Princess of Alfheim, daughter of the Alfheimian Layeia Tilasdottir and the very-human David (Y/L/N), descendant of the esteemed Lady Astrid, designated representative between the Light Elves and the Nine Realms of the cosmos, and the Defender of the Realm of Alfheim.”

Taking a step back, (Y/N) arched a questioning brow and fought the sudden urge to summon her magic or even her sword. “For someone I’ve never met, you certainly know an awful lot about me.”

Doctor Strange shrugged. “I make it my business to keep an eye on beings that pose the largest threats to this world and I have to say, you’re quite high on my list.”

“Well, like I was saying, Doctor, all of this has a very simple if not embarrassing explanation-”

“(Y/N)!” They both turned to see Loki and their friends hurrying towards them; their tuxedos were covered in grass stains and an odd multicolored slime, and her fiancé’s emerald-green eyes were filled with worry as he gently held her shoulders and leaned down to meet her gaze. “Darling, are you all right? What happened?”

As the rest of their friends and even some of their guests began making their way across the lawn, (Y/N)’s embarrassment grew and she brought a hand up to partially hide her face. “Scott misplaced the rings and I thought I could use my magic to find them, but my anxiety must’ve led to me opening a portal and then the strength of my spell accidentally took Doctor Strange’s sling ring, and…well, you know the rest. I still have no idea why I wasn’t able to summon our rings; it’s almost as if something was blocking my magic…” Loki paled at her words and it was (Y/N)’s turn to be concerned. “Loki?”

“This situation, um…it may not entirely be your fault, darling.” Her fiancé chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his neck as he glanced over at where Scott, his girlfriend Hope Van Dyne and Cassie were all standing near Elora. “You see, I assumed that Lang might misplace the rings so before I started getting ready, I placed an enchantment on them and as an added precaution, I instructed Barton to give Lang an empty ring box and give the real ones to-”

“Hey, guys! Cassie had the rings the whole time!" Scott shouted and gave a giggling Cassie a celebratory fist-bump. “Either my little peanut’s becoming a better thief than her old man, or someone didn’t trust me with ‘em in the first place. Probably the second one, huh?”

With an incredulous laugh, (Y/N) allowed a chuckling Loki to pull her into his arms and shook her head in disbelief. “Does that mean we ruined our own wedding?”

“My dear, you both haven’t ruined a single thing,” Frigga reassured her as she walked up to them and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Your friends and guests are still here, all of them safe and unharmed, and the sun is shining brightly in the sky. Why shouldn’t your wedding continue as planned?”

A stern-looking Doctor Strange raised a hand and answered, “Because Miss (Y/L/N) here nearly caused the destruction of New York with her unchecked magic and a mass hysteria the likes of which hasn’t been seen since his invasion. Such an act, even one as accidental as you claim this one to be, cannot go unexamined and unpunished.”

(Y/N) bit her lip while Loki rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to counter his words, but his mother’s hand on his arm silenced him as she turned to Doctor Strange with a brilliant smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doctor Stephen Strange of Midgard; I am Frigga, the Queen of Asgard and mother to Loki and Thor. My dear future daughter-in-law has recently obtained an extraordinary amount of Alf Seidr that she’s still training to control and seeing as today’s her long-awaited wedding day, it’s quite understandable that her focus was shaken.” Frigga sympathetically rubbed (Y/N)’s back and took a moment to adjust her uniform’s purple-hued tiara before returning her attention to the sorcerer. “Now, I’m sure that a highly-skilled Master of the Mystic Arts such as yourself would be honored to utilize the Time Stone hanging around your neck and repair the damage caused by the creature, so as to ease Lady (Y/N)’s frazzled nerves and prevent any other unfortunate accidents from occurring.”

Doctor Strange blinked in surprise. “Um…”

“For your valiant defense of this realm, Asgard recognizes you as one of its trusted allies and speaking as the mother of the groom, I would personally be honored if you joined us for today’s celebration of Loki and Lady (Y/N)’s nuptials.”

“That’s, um…thank you, Queen Frigga, for extending an invitation to me…I-I’d be honored to attend…” The sorcerer’s cheeks flushed pink and he tried his hardest to avoid making eye-contact with the beautiful goddess in front of him. “I’ll start on the repairs right away…”

While a flushed Doctor Strange started using the power of the Time Stone to reverse the damages to their friends’ tuxedos first, (Y/N) turned to look between Frigga and Loki as her stunned expression morphed into a grin. “You really did inherit your Silvertongue from your mother, didn’t you?”

“So it would seem,” Loki replied and leaned down to press a kiss onto his mother’s cheek. “Thank you for intervening on our behalf, Mother.”

Frigga’s blue eyes twinkled with some mischief of her own as she gave them a conspiratorial wink. “Of course, little one. I was raised by witches who taught me many invaluable lessons, among which was that diplomacy and deceit are two sides of the very same coin.”

After the Queen of Asgard went to supervise the sorcerer as he repaired the lawn and floral arrangements surrounding the white gazebo that they’d soon exchange their vows within, (Y/N) spotted Clint filming the aftermath of the battle and giggled. “This’ll be a fun memory to share with our future children: How Mom and Dad’s magical shenanigans nearly wrecked their own wedding.”

Loki laughed. “After listening to Stark read me an online article chronicling several common wedding day horrors, ours was relatively tame by comparison.” He gave her forehead a lingering kiss before meeting her gaze with a tender smile. “Are you ready to get married, my love?”

“More than ready, sweetheart.” (Y/N) slipped her hand into her fiancé’s and swung their arms as they made their way into the mansion to finish getting ready for their wedding ceremony.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour and over a dozen magical repairs later, Loki and Thor stood outside on the mansion’s veranda with Cassie Lang, keeping the flower girl-slash-ring bearer entertained and patiently waiting for (Y/N) and Natasha to finish their last-minute preparations so the ceremony could begin.

The guests were all seated and talking amongst themselves while they enjoyed the late afternoon sunlight breaking through the fluffy white clouds; the only people not seated in the rows of benches were General Elora – who would be officiating the ceremony, as it mainly drew from ancient Alfheimian customs – and Peter, MJ and Ned; the young woman graciously volunteered to play the guitar while they walked down the aisle, and her two best friends were keeping her company as she perched herself on a wooden stool beside the gazebo’s steps. Floral arrangements comprised of green and lavender Dahlias and branches of fern lined the aisle and hung gracefully off the ends of the sculpted wooden benches, while vines of green ivy and lilacs wrapped around the gazebo’s posts and railing. The interior of the gazebo was illuminated with dozens of twinkling fairy lights that were set to brighten as the sun started to set, and lanterns of battery-powered candles hung from each nearby bush and tree.

Embracing a mixture of Asgardian and Midgardian traditions, Loki was dressed in a tailored black tuxedo with an emerald-green cloak fastened to his jacket by the engraved golden clasps his mother gifted him, and he wore a floral crown of blooming laurels and leaves. On Asgard, one’s future spouse chose the flowers that best represented their intended and after much deliberation, (Y/N) picked the laurel for its many symbolic meanings; the laurel symbolized nobility, intelligence and an acknowledgement of the new phase he was entering by marrying her. Quite a flattering choice on her part, he thought with a reserved smile as he conjured another tiny burst of fireworks for Cassie’s amusement.

“Perhaps one day, young Cassie, my brother will show you how he can transform into any animal one could imagine,” Thor remarked to Cassie as he took a moment to readjust his green pocket-square.

The little girl’s eyes widened in amazement and she quickly turned to face Loki. “Can you turn into an ant?!”

Loki blinked in surprise as Thor stifled a chuckle behind his hand. “Um, well…now that you mention it, I haven’t actually tried.”

“Oh. I like ants. The ones that my daddy works with are really nice!”

Watching Cassie suddenly switch from talking about ants to twirling around in her soft green dress, a part of Loki hoped that his and (Y/N)’s future children shared the little girl’s quirky enthusiasm and unapologetic sense of wonder. The sound of the veranda’s glass door opening caused Loki to turn around and when he did, he was met with the jaw-dropping sight of his fiancée. (Y/N)’s off-white wedding dress – impeccably designed for her by Luke Jacobson – was relatively simplistic, with a fitted bust that cinched at the waist and flared out into a flowing skirt that reached the floor, but what elevated the entire look from simplistic to enchanting were its unique details; a lace overlay of hand-sewn floral designs was fastened onto the bust, branching out into fluttering sleeves that hung down to her biceps, and the only jewelry she wore besides her engagement ring was a delicate pair of pearl earrings she inherited from her late aunt. Her hair was arranged into one of her favorite styles and on the top of her head, she wore a floral crown comprised of white Camellia blooms; he’d picked them for her because they symbolized admiration, respect and everlasting love and devotion. A veil of lace-trimmed white chiffon was attached to the back of the floral crown, hanging gracefully down her back and barely brushing the floor. The finishing touch was the bouquet she was clutching in her hands; it was comprised of laurel, white Camellia blooms, lavender and lilac-colored roses and dusty green foliage.

“Darling…” Loki approached her almost reverently and stood before her with a dazed smile on his face. “I truly am the luckiest man in all the Nine Realms, to find myself marrying such an ethereal goddess as you.”

(Y/N) shyly ducked her head before reaching a hand up to straighten one of his cloak clasps. “You must be a mind-reader, then, because I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

His lips chastely caressed her knuckles as Natasha stepped onto the veranda with a small basket of multicolored flower petals and a small bouquet of her own; the Matron of Honor was dressed in a simple lilac-colored gown, with her long red curls pinned up in an elegant style by a single white Dahlia and glittering silver heels on her feet. “Save the kissing for later, lovebirds, we’ve got a wedding ceremony to begin.” Mindful of her gown, the spy bent down and held the basket out for Cassie to take. “Okay, Lang, just like we practiced.”

“I’m on it,” Cassie replied, toothily grinning and giving Natasha a thumbs-up before taking the basket from her and allowing the spy to quickly adjust (Y/N)’s veil.

“Are you two ready?” After Loki and (Y/N) nodded, Natasha held a hand up to her comm link and spoke lowly into it, “All right, kid, let’s do this thing.”

Across the way, MJ nodded and gestured for her friends to take their seats, spending a moment adjusting her guitar’s shoulder strap before beginning to softly play. The guests’ conversations started to dim down and with a nod of confirmation from the spy, Cassie walked across the lawn and started to slowly make her way down the aisle, scattering flower petals along the way while her father beamed with pride from his seat.

Thor leaned down to give (Y/N)’s forehead a chaste kiss and clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder, his blue eyes sparkling with happiness as he allowed Natasha to loop her arm around his. “See you in a minute.”

Natasha winked at them and with that, the Best Man and the Matron of Honor began their walk down the aisle; when they ascended the gazebo’s steps and took their respective places, (Y/N) slipped her hand into Loki’s and he squeezed it tight as they crossed the lawn to stand at the end of the aisle. Once the guests all stood and turned to face them, Loki and (Y/N) exchanged a smile before starting down the aisle hand-in-hand; long before they knew it was Alfheimian tradition that the bride and groom walk themselves down the aisle on their wedding day, (Y/N) pointed out that since they’d both be entering into marriage with one another, it only made sense that they’d choose to walk down the aisle together.

While they slowly walked down the aisle as MJ played a gentle love ballad on her guitar, Loki looked out at their friends, teammates and colleagues standing amongst the guests to distract himself from the butterflies beginning to flutter around his stomach. Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Everett Ross and Doctor Helen Cho stood alongside everyone they invited from S.H.I.E.L.D., the director giving them both an approving nod as they passed by; Steven Grant – the quirky man they’d met while on vacation in Egypt and to whom (Y/N) was a devoted pen-pal – stood beside Layla El-Fouley, his alter Marc Spector’s stunning wife, and for the briefest moment, Loki could even see the skeletal figure of Khonshu lingering by one of the distant trees; their new and reluctant friend Doctor Stephen Strange, now dressed in a simple black tuxedo instead of his sorcerer’s robes, stood beside his fellow sorcerer Wong and attempted to not look as uncomfortable as he presumably felt amongst so many superheroes; Peter Parker and Ned Leeds were trying their hardest not to seem too excited to be sharing a row with Doctor Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis, and Loki could hear (Y/N) stifle a giggle when the eccentric woman winked and fired finger-guns at them; Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne’s attention was caught between watching Loki and (Y/N) make their way down the aisle and keeping an eye on Cassie standing on the gazebo beside Thor, while Bucky and Sam both smiled widely at them as they passed; Bruce stood beside his cousin Jennifer Walters, who was already flirtatiously eyeing an embarrassed Rhodey standing across the aisle, while Pepper elbowed a snickering Tony; Steve and Clint stood at one of the front rows, the super soldier beaming with happiness and the archer filming their procession with his camcorder.

At the front of Loki’s side of the aisle stood their Asgardian and Alfheimian friends and family. Fandral winked at him and Sif grinned widely as Volstagg toasted them with the chocolate bar he was snacking on and even the ever-stoic Hogun gave them an atypical smile. Queen Amirah of Alfheim stood beside her guards, Hagen and Myriani, and the afternoon sunlight make her blue opal tiara sparkle almost as much as her smile, and at the end of the row stood Frigga, who was dabbing at her tear-filled eyes with a handkerchief as they walked past and ascended the gazebo’s steps.

Elora patiently waited for all the guests to take their seats to begin. “We are gathered here to witness the union of Crown Princess (Y/N) Layeiadottir (Y/L/N) of Alfheim and Midgard and Prince Loki of Asgard, two halves of the same shining soul, in blessed matrimony. Do both parties stand here of your own free will to acknowledge the eternal bond shared by the both of you?”

“We do,” Loki and (Y/N) replied in unison.

“Then you may face one another, join hands and recite your written vows.”

After (Y/N) handed her bouquet over to Natasha and placed her hands in Loki’s, she took a steadying breath before smiling up at him. “Loki. Through all the tears and all the struggles we’ve overcome together, a part of me always knew that we were destined to make it here. My heart was yours the moment I first looked into your beautiful eyes and as I look into them now, I can see every ounce of the passion and devotion I feel for you reflected in them. Sweetheart, you’re my greatest love and the brightest light in my life, and I promise to love and cherish you from here to eternity as your wife.”

Loki swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself not to cry as he started speaking his own vows. “(Y/N). Not a day goes by where I don’t count myself the luckiest man in all the Nine Realms to have the love of someone as utterly magnificent as you. In the beginning of our romance, I feared that you were too good to be true, that I couldn’t possibly be deserving of someone so pure and loving as you are. But here we stand, surrounded by our friends and family, and I feel proud and incredibly blessed to become your husband. My darling, you’re my lover, my best friend and my eternal soulmate. All I am is yours, and here before our friends, our family and the Norns themselves, I vow to be until the end of time.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were filled with unshed tears and although Loki’s gaze never left hers, he could hear the sniffles and rustling of Kleenex packages amongst their guests. “(Y/N), do you take Loki to be your husband, to cherish in love and in friendship, in strength and in weakness, in success and disappointment, to love him faithfully today, tomorrow and forever?”

“I do,” (Y/N) vowed and smiled widely up at him.

“Loki, do you take (Y/N) to be your wife, to cherish in love and in friendship, in strength and in weakness, in success and disappointment, to love her faithfully today, tomorrow and forever?”

Loki solemnly nodded as he vowed, “I do.”

“And now, for the rings.”

Cassie nodded, handing one ring to Natasha and the other to Thor before giving her father an excited wave, causing a ripple of giggles through the rows of guests; the spy handed (Y/N) the ring and her eyes flicked between his and the thin band she held as she recited the ceremony’s next words. “I present to you this ring as a symbol of my devotion.” She slipped the band onto his ring finger to rest above his gold engagement ring. “My body, my soul and my everlasting love I share with you always and forever.”

Accepting the ring that his brother handed him, Loki gave (Y/N) another smile before reciting, “I present to you this ring as a symbol of my devotion.” He slipped the band onto her finger above her sparkling engagement ring. “My body, my soul and my everlasting love I share with you always and forever.”

“May these symbols of your devotion serve to always remind you of your everlasting bond.” Elora’s golden-colored eyes were slowly misting over as she spoke, no doubt wishing that (Y/N)’s late mother and father could be there to witness their only child be married. “And now, by the power vested in me by my rank as General of the Alfheimian Army, it is my honor to declare you both married. Go forth and live each day of your lives together to the fullest. You may seal this declaration with a kiss.”

Beaming with happiness, (Y/N) stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against Loki’s in a brief but passionate kiss that he was quick to reciprocate. For one singular blissful moment, everything and everyone around them faded away and they stood alone on the gazebo, sharing a sweet and loving kiss that symbolized their long-awaited unification as husband and wife. The cheering and applause from their guests brought Loki back to reality sooner than he would’ve liked but after reminding himself that they’d have plenty of time to be alone later, he ended their kiss and gave his wife a mischievous smile before scooping her up in his arms and spinning around while she burst into joyous laughter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say that the wedding reception was one of the liveliest parties (Y/N) had ever attended would be an understatement. From the moment they were declared husband and wife, she felt as through she’d been whisked straight into a dream that seemingly had no end to it; once they finished having their wedding photographs taken, they spent a half an hour by themselves in one of Stark Mansion’s many living rooms, enjoying several slices of pizza (and lots of kisses, of course) and taking time to relax for the first time that day while the guests filtered into the ballroom for the reception.

After (Y/N) and Loki snuck into the beautifully-decorated ballroom and made their rounds around the tables to greet their guests as they enjoyed their dinner, the trio of teenagers they’d allowed to be their DJ’s took their places behind their equipment and announced the bride and groom’s first dance as husband and wife; they both had fun watching their guests’ reactions when, instead of some sort of romantic waltz or ballad, they danced along to the fast-paced disco hit ‘You’re The First, The Last, My Everything,’ spinning and twirling so much around the dance floor that (Y/N) was thankful she’d removed her floral crown and veil and that Loki had dressed down to just his black tuxedo.

The guests took to the dance floor once dinner was cleared away and while Loki danced with Frigga, Thor asked (Y/N) for a dance. From there, (Y/N) danced with every member of the Avengers and their off-realm guests to a wide variety of music; she requested Big Band tunes for Steve and Bucky and slower songs for Bruce and the Warrior’s Three, while Tony, Clint and Sam happily danced along with her to some faster pop numbers. Natasha pulled her into a ladies-only group dance with Jane, Darcy, Helen and Maria, and after a brief dance with Everett Ross, (Y/N) had their trio of DJ’s pause the music so she could reveal her surprise for Loki.

“I’d like to start out by thanking you all for being here with us today,” (Y/N) began as she stood before the crowded ballroom. “As I’m sure some of you know, I had a difficult road to recovery after the Battle of Boston. Sam suggested that I take up playing the piano again as a form of musical therapy, but I was hesitant at first; you see, my aunt taught me to play when I was a child and I stopped when she died because I couldn’t enjoy the music without her. Loki…” Her voice momentarily caught in her throat at the unexpected emotions welling up within her, but spotting her husband standing amongst the crowd helped her to steady herself and keep going. “Loki stayed with me every single time I sat myself at the piano. With him by my side, I found the strength to enjoy the music again and slowly but surely, I started to heal. Loki’s always been there for me when I needed him the most, which is why I’d like to dedicate this next song to my new husband.”

Peter and MJ plugged in the last chord as (Y/N) sat down at the electric keyboard they’d set up for her, both teenagers ducking out of the way with a whispered “break a leg!” while she adjusted the microphone and straightened her posture; seeing the curious expression on Loki’s face and the eager anticipation filling his emerald-green eyes, (Y/N) gave him a smile and a little wink before she began to play.

“Sweet, wonderful you, you make me happy with the things you do. Oh, can it be so, this feeling follows me wherever I go. I never did believe in miracles, but I’ve a feeling it’s time to try…I never did believe in the ways of magic, but I’m beginning to wonder why…” A widening grin played on (Y/N)’s lips as the guests took to the dance floor and started to dance to the spirited Fleetwood Mac tune while she sang. “I never did believe in miracles, but I’ve a feeling it’s time to try…I never did believe in the ways of magic, but I’m beginning to wonder why…” While the guests continued to dance, Loki approached the electric keyboard she was seated at and watched her fingers fly across the keys with an unreadable expression on his face. “Don’t, don’t break the spell, it would be different and you know it will. You, you make loving fun, and I don’t have to tell you but you’re the only one. You, you make loving fun, it’s all I want to do…you, you make loving fun, it’s all I want to do…you, you make loving fun, it’s all I want to do…you, you make loving fun, it’s all I want to do…”

When the song finally came to an end, the crowd burst into applause and their three DJ’s were quick to select another pop song that kept everyone out on the dance floor. (Y/N) thanked the teenagers for their help and crossed the makeshift stage to where Loki stood but before she could say anything, his arms were around her and he was dipping her low as his lips captured hers in a reverent kiss; when they were finally forced to separate for air, her husband straightened them both up but kept his arms wound around her waist and gave her a tender grin. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you sing, darling, and you sang that beautiful song just for me. Rest assured, I’ll treasure that moment for the rest of my days.”

“Thanks to our archer-turned-videographer, you’ll be able to watch it over and over until you get sick of it,” (Y/N) chuckled as she glanced past Loki to see Clint filming Natasha and Thor reenacting the famous lift from Dirty Dancing to the amazement of the dancers nearest to them.

Loki’s fingers gently took hold of her chin and guided her to look at him, and his love-struck gaze remained trained on hers as he slowly shook his head. “Never, my love. Now, how about a slice of cake and some Asgardian mead?”

Everyone gathered to watch (Y/N) and Loki cut their three-tiered wedding cake with one of his intricate daggers and after they’d indulged in their dessert, four of their grinning and slightly-inebriated teammates took to the makeshift stage; Natasha and Clint’s cheeks were tinged red, Sam’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his bow-tie was missing, and Tony couldn’t contain his giggles as he stepped up to one of the microphones.

“Hey, guys! Great party, huh?” The crowd cheered and Tony nodded in agreement. “Well, you better hold onto your hats ‘cause it’s about to get even greater!”

(Y/N), who was standing beside Loki and catching up with both Pepper and Helen, looked over at her husband with eyes widened in horror. “He’s not about to give a speech, is he?”

“Not if he doesn’t wanna spend tonight sleeping on the couch,” The CEO replied before taking another sip of her champagne. “Trust me, he and I already had a lengthy discussion about what constitutes as appropriate wedding reception behavior.”

“In my experience, Mr. Stark tends not to retain information told to him in less than three sentences or in any tone other than pleasant.” The world-renowned geneticist let out a long-suffering sigh and watched the four Avengers setting up several more microphone stands. “Hence why he’s permanently banned from my laboratory.”

While Pepper gave Helen an understanding nod, Loki wrapped an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. “I’m sure that whatever they’re planning will be very touching…also, Romanoff stole Stark’s intended speech and vaguely threatened bodily harm if he attempted to improvise one; he may be an impulsive Midgardian, but he knows better than to find himself at the mercy of the Black Widow.”

(Y/N) chuckled as the lighting dimmed and all of a sudden, a spotlight landed on the two of them. “You see, the four of us up here got together and decided we wanted to do somethin’ special for our two good friends here. Like (Y/L/N) here mentioned earlier, she used music to help her out during her recovery and she’d play for all of us in the tower; so, we got together and figured that it was time we were the ones to play something for her…or rather, sing something for her. Hit it, adolescent DJ’s!”

The teenagers began to play an instrumental track of Frankie Valli and the Four Season’s ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,’ and Loki offered her his hand. “Shall we?”

With a smile on her face, (Y/N) nodded and allowed her husband to lead her to the empty center of the dance floor, slow-dancing along to the song’s pleasant introduction and biting her lip to keep from giggling when Tony and Sam started singing and Natasha and Clint provided their back-up vocals. “You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you. You’d be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much. At long last love has arrived, and I thank God I’m alive. You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you…”

“Did you tell them that I like this song?” (Y/N) suddenly asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she examined Loki’s overly-cheerful face. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned to any of them that I like this song.”

Loki merely arched a brow and his emerald-green eyes sparkled with mischief. “Now, why would I do such an odd thing as that?”

“Pardon the way that I stare, there’s nothin’ else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak, there are no words left to speak. But if you feel like I feel, please let me know that it’s real. You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you…”

As the small instrumental revved up for the chorus, (Y/N) was twirled around in tight circles and before she could question her husband further, his voice suddenly echoed throughout the ballroom and sang, “I love you, baby!” (Y/N) gasped in disbelief when she looked over at the makeshift stage to see Loki standing at one of the microphones, and she laughed when she realized that her dance partner was a clone created from Loki’s magic. “And if it’s quite alright I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night, I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…” Loki was grinning widely as he sang and when his eyes found (Y/N)’s, he gave her a sly wink. “Oh, pretty baby! Now that I’ve found you, stay, and let me love you, baby, let me love you!”

“You really are a trickster,” (Y/N) remarked to Loki’s smirking clone, who merely shrugged and continued to sway them across the dance floor.

“When our friendship first began, my darling (Y/N) took it upon herself to introduce me to all of Midgard’s greatest literary creations and being the dedicated bibliophile that she is, she more than succeeded.” The real Loki onstage smiled as he held onto the microphone. “Each and every novel and play she recommended provided me insight into her beautiful mind but when it came to watching the filmed adaptations of her favorite literary works, I was able to observe just how they affected her…which is how I know that (Y/N) adores the scene in a certain modern Shakespearean adaptation when the handsome lead surprises the heroine with a public show of affection.”

(Y/N) felt her face warm and a reluctant grin spread across her face as she glanced back at the clone she was dancing with. “10 Things I Hate About You was the first movie we watched together when I joined the Avengers. I…I can’t believe you remembered that…”

The clone leaned down and pressed a kiss onto her forehead while the real Loki onstage continued to sing. “I love you, baby! And if it’s quite alright I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night, I love you, baby, trust in me when I say…Oh, pretty baby! Don’t bring me down, I pray, oh pretty baby, now that I’ve found you, stay, oh pretty baby, trust in me when I say…”

When the song came to an end, the clone vanished in a shimmer of green magic and as the crowd clapped and cheered, an impressed-looking Darcy leaned towards (Y/N) and yelled over the din, “Geez, is there anything that guy can’t do?”

“If there is, then I’ve certainly never seen it!” (Y/N) chuckled and when Loki finally made his way through the crowd, she looped her arms around his waist and smiled up at him. “That was beautiful, sweetheart!”

“It was a challenge to keep our rehearsals a secret and I might’ve downed a shot or two of liquid courage beforehand, but I’m glad that you enjoyed it.” He pressed a kiss onto the tip of her nose and grinned when she laughed at the ticklish sensation. “You surprised me with a beautifully-performed song, and I surprised you with a slightly-less conventional performance; I suppose that great minds really do think alike.”

“Okay, here’s another oldie for all you oldies out there!” Ned Leeds’ amplified voice announced and the opening notes of The Village People’s ‘Y.M.C.A.’ filled the ballroom, causing the guests to eagerly take to the dance floor.

Nearby, Jane frowned and turned to Darcy standing beside her. “Wait, did that kid just call us old?”

“Join the club,” Both Steve and Bucky quipped as Natasha and Jennifer Walters dragged them past towards the center of the dance floor.

“Oh, I love this song!” (Y/N) grabbed Loki’s hands and started to sway along to the catchy beat. “It was in The Office, remember? It’s the song that plays towards the end of the Café Disco episode!”

“You’re right, but I’m still confused as to why a song about a worldwide youth organization inspires such a visceral reaction in Midgardians.” Loki studied the dancers around them in curious amusement. “And what about it has anything to do with weddings?”

She ducked under his arms and spun so that her back was pressed against his front, craning her neck so that she could meet his gaze with a grin. “It’s a catchy, cheesy song that has the easiest dance moves in the world to perform. Doesn’t that make it the perfect party song?”

Loki shrugged and spun her back out to face him. “Only if one has the perfect dance partner to go along with it.”

“Then I suppose we’re in luck,” (Y/N) quipped, pressing a kiss onto her husband’s knuckles before manipulating his arms along to the song’s iconic chorus and dissolving into a fit of giggles at the absurdity of the God of Mischief dancing along to ‘Y.M.C.A..’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the moon was high in the star-filled sky and the reception inside Stark Mansion was beginning to wind down, Loki and (Y/N) snuck off to the gazebo they were married in and swayed to the slow music playing in the distance, surrounded only by the beautiful flowers and twinkling fairy lights that decorated the structure. (Y/N)’s head rested on Loki’s shoulder and his eyes were closed as one of his hands held hers against his chest, directly over his heart.

“Do you think that we’ll see Doctor Strange again?”

Loki thoughtfully hummed and nodded. “I’m sure we will, but not for a long while; I believe that the superhero lifestyle unnerved the poor fellow and I doubt he wants to incite the anger of any of our friends. As long as you continue to train and master your abilities, there won’t be a reason for that second-rate sorcerer to bother you again.”

(Y/N) lifted her head so that she could meet his gaze, a single brow arched as her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkled with delight. “So, are you finally going to tell me where we’re going on our honeymoon?”

“And ruin the surprise I’ve spent two months meticulously planning? Where’s the fun in that?”

“Loki, I have to know what sort of clothes to pack!”

“Darling, I don’t imagine we’ll be wearing any for the majority of the honeymoon.” Loki’s teasing snickers quickly transitioned to laughter when (Y/N)’s fingers mercilessly tickled his neck in retaliation. “All right, all right, I surrender! On Monday, you and I will travel the Bifrost to Karapiro, New Zealand and spend ten days at Lakeview Lodge; we’ll have the opportunity to visit Rotorua, the Waitomo Caves and even take a tour of-”

“Hobbiton,” (Y/N) gasped and Loki’s grin widened as her face lit up with excitement. “We’re going to see where they filmed The Lord of the Rings movies?!” When he nodded, she flung her arms around his neck and nearly tackled him to the floor with the force of her embrace, but he was quick to catch her and hold her up against him while she laughed in delight. “I have the absolute best husband in the world!”

Loki’s heart leapt in his chest when she called him her husband and when she moved her hands to cradle his face, he tenderly smiled up at her and replied, “Well, the best wife in the world deserves everything I can offer her and more, does she not?”

(Y/N)’s expression softened into a look of loving adoration, and the feather-light touch of her thumbs caressing his cheekbones nearly made his eyes flutter closed in bliss. “You know, I think about that day we first met in the library from time to time. I replay the entire scene my mind – how I stumbled and how you were by my side in an instant to catch me, how our eyes locked and my breath was nearly taken away by the way you looked at me, how my heartbeat sped up when I realized how much I enjoyed having your arms around me – and when I do, I thank the universe for sending a mischievous and misunderstood trickster to steal my heart that day.”

“When I think of that fateful day, I find myself thanking the Norns for sending a kind and passionate lost princess to spellbind me, body and soul,” Loki huskily replied as his eyes stung with the prickling of tears. “And I pray that she’ll never set me free.”

(Y/N), her eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy, gently shook her head and leaned forward to ghost her lips over his. “As long as the trickster holds her heart, she never ever will. So…” She held her hand up and stuck her little finger into the air with the hint of a playful grin on her face. “Pinky-Promise?”

Loki laughed and adjusted his hold on her so that he could wrap his little finger around hers. “Pinky-Promise.”

Their lips finally met in a passionate and unhurried kiss and Loki sighed at the heavenly sensation of (Y/N)’s fingers carding through his hair, holding his beautiful wife in a tight embrace and smiling through the love-filled kisses they exchanged beneath the gazebo’s twinkling lights.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: I honestly loved writing this and indulging in some of my own personal wedding dreams lol if anyone would like to see the different reference pics I used while designing the wedding, just shoot me a message and I’ll send ‘em to you! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk?si=5fcb3ef04de544e7

Three’s Company (A Spellbinding-Verse Interlude)

“Spellbinding” Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva​​​​​​​​​​​ @ravenclawbitch426​​​​​​​​​​​ @cminr​​​​​​​​​ @confusedfandomwriter​​​​​​​​​​​ @momc95​​​​​​​​​​​ @nickkie99​​​​​​​​​​​ @austynparksandpizza​​​​​​​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​​​​​​​ @a-laufeyson​​​​​​​​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​​​​​​​​ @itscomplicatedx​​​​​​​​​​​​ @0-artemis​​​​​​​​​​​​ @vivloki​​​​​​​​​​​​ @crowleysqueenofhell​​​​​​​​​​​​ @groovy-lady​​​​​​​​ @mostclevermiss​​​​​​      

[grandmaster-anne]

A AN Z OF QUEEN ELIZABETH II

By Charlotte Hodgman | Published 12 May 2022

A is for... ANNUS HORRIBILIS

“1992 is not a year on which I shall look back with undiluted pleasure... it has turned out to be an ‘Annus Horribilis’,” said the Queen, now famously, in a speech marking her 40th year on the throne. Indeed, 1992 had proved difficult for the royal family, with the breakdown of Prince Charles’ and Prince Andrew’s marriages, Princess Anne’s divorce, and a fire at Windsor Castle high on the list of unfortunate events.

B is for... BIRTHDAYS

Thanks to the unpredictability of the British weather, the Queen celebrates two birthdays every year: the day she was born (21 April) and the second Saturday in June. The two-birthday tradition began with George II in 1748 – his November birthday was deemed to be too cold for al fresco celebrations, so he decided to attach his birthday celebrations to the Trooping the Colour ceremonial parade held in the summer.

C is for... CORONATION CHICKEN

‘Poulet Reine Elizabeth’ – better known as coronation chicken – was dreamt up in 1953 by florist Constance Spry and cordon bleu chef Rosemary Hume. The dish is said to have been inspired by the ‘Jubilee Chicken’ recipe that was created in 1935 for George V’s Silver Jubilee, but, in an era of postwar rationing, coronation chicken is unlikely to have been on the menu of many street parties in 1953.

D is for... DOGS

The Queen’s love of dogs, specifically the corgi breed, is well-known; she has owned more than 30 corgis since her accession. Perhaps her closest canine friend, though, was Susan, the Pembroke Welsh corgi who was given to the-then Princess Elizabeth on her 18th birthday. The pup even took part in her wedding to Prince Philip – riding in the state coach (hidden under a blanket) and travelling with the royal couple on their honeymoon.

E is for... EMAIL

In March 1976, the Queen made history when she became the author of the first royal email. Distributed using ARPANET – a forerunner of the internet – from the Royal Signals and Radar Establishment in Malvern, Worcestershire, the message announced the development of a new programming language. It was sent from the Queen’s – rather predictably named – personal email account: HME2.

F is for... FATHER

When Princess Elizabeth was born in 1926, her father was still Prince Albert, Duke of York, but in 1936, life changed dramatically when Albert took the throne as George VI, meaning that Elizabeth was now heir apparent. Elizabeth’s preparation for queenship began almost immediately and father and daughter developed a close bond as he trained his eldest child for her future role as monarch.

G is for... GIFTS

Queen Elizabeth II has received countless gifts throughout her reign – some precious, others... more unusual. Several live animals have been presented to the Queen, including a young Nile crocodile from the People of Berending on the Gambia River and two Aldabra giant tortoises from the Government and People of the Seychelles.

H is for... HATS

The Queen is known for her vibrantly coloured coats with matching headgear, but just how many hats does the royal wardrobe contain? While the exact number is not confirmed, Her Majesty is rumoured to have donned more than 5,000 hats over the duration of her reign.

I is for... INTRUDER

Several intruders have been apprehended in the grounds of royal residences over the years, but none have made it as far as Michael Fagan, who, in 1982, broke into Buckingham Palace and found his way to the Queen’s bedroom. Since trespass was then a civil offence, Fagan was only tried for burglary (having helped himself to half a bottle of wine), and spent several months at a psychiatric hospital.

J is for... JUBILEE

This year, the Queen marks her Platinum Jubilee, becoming the first British monarch to celebrate 70 years on the throne. She will follow in the footsteps of other famous monarchs who have celebrated milestones in their reigns, including Edward III (r1327–77), who is said to have celebrated his Golden Jubilee with a magnificent procession from the Tower of London.

K is for... KENYA

It was during a stay at Treetops Hotel in Nyeri, Kenya, on 6 February 1952, that Princess Elizabeth learned that her father, George VI, had died. She and Prince Philip had been enjoying a short break in the African country during the first leg of a Commonwealth tour, but flew home immediately, landing in London the next day.

L is for... LYNDON B JOHNSON

Fourteen US presidents have come and gone over the past 70 years, but only one failed to meet the Queen face to face. Despite corresponding by letter between March 1964 and July 1967, neither Queen Elizabeth II nor President Lyndon B Johnson issued invitations for the other to visit.

M is for... MOTHERHOOD

Assuming the throne with two small children – Prince Charles (3) and Princess Anne (18 months) – meant juggling monarchy with motherhood from the off, and long periods of time away from family while touring. Two more children (Prince Andrew and Prince Edward) followed in 1960 and 1964 respectively, ensuring the continuity of the Windsor line.

N is for... NICKNAMES

Despite her dignified demeanour, the Queen is said to have a number of nicknames within the royal family, including ‘Gary’ (bestowed by a young Prince William who had confused the word with ‘Granny’). Princess Charlotte is said to use ‘Gan-Gan’, while the late Prince Philip often called his wife ‘Cabbage’ – perhaps from the French term of endearment, mon petit chou (my little cabbage).

O is for... OBEY

When the future Elizabeth II married Philip Mountbatten in 1947, eyebrows were raised over the choice of wedding vows. The word ‘obey’ had been removed from the Church of England service in 1928, two years after women were permitted to own property on the same terms as men, but Princess Elizabeth chose to include the word in her vows, promising to “love, cherish, and to obey” her new husband.

P is for... PRINCE PHILIP

The Queen and Prince Philip enjoyed a 73-year marriage before his death in April 2021. The pair were introduced in 1934, and met again five years later at the Royal Naval College in Dartmouth when Elizabeth was 13 and Philip was 18. It was here, reportedly, that Elizabeth fell in love with her future husband, a man she described on their golden wedding anniversary as being her “strength and stay”.

Q is for... QUALIFICATIONS

Conventional schooling is a fairly recent choice for the British royal family, with Prince Charles the first heir to the throne to have received a formal education and attain a university degree. Both the Queen and her younger sister, Princess Margaret, were home-schooled by a governess, with the young Elizabeth also receiving lessons in constitutional history after she became heir to the throne.

R is for... RADIO BROADCAST

The future Queen made her first public address on 13 October 1940, aged 14. Joined by Princess Margaret, the speech was broadcast at the start of Children’s Hour on the BBC World Service, and was aimed at children who had been evacuated from Britain to America, Canada and elsewhere.

You can listen to the recording via the BBC Archive: bbc.co.uk/archive/childrens-hour--princess-elizabeth/z7wm92p

S is for... SWANS

The Crown has claimed ownership of mute swans (a particular species of swan) since the 12th century, when monarchs liked to tuck into the white waterbird at feasts. A ‘Swan Upping’ ceremony, led by the Queen’s Swan Marker, takes place in the third week of July each year on a particular stretch of the River Thames, and any swans found are checked over – for health reasons, rather than as a potential meal.

T is for... TOURS

During her long reign, Elizabeth II has travelled more than a million miles (1,032,513 to be precise) and visited 117 different countries, despite never owning a passport. In 2015, having flown the equivalent of 42 times around the globe since her accession, the Queen finally hung up her boarding pass and retired from overseas travel, making a trip to Malta her last foreign tour.

U is for... UNCLE EDWARD

At her birth in 1926, baby Elizabeth was third in line to the throne, behind her uncle Edward (later Edward VIII) and her father (later George VI), and seemingly destined to be pushed down the line of succession by the births of brothers and male cousins. But on Edward VIII’s abdication in 1936 her future took a new direction and her path to queenship began.

V is for... VE DAY

In 1985, the Queen confessed in a BBC interview that, on 8 May 1945, she had secretly joined in the public celebrations that had followed the announcement that the war in Europe had ended. Dressed in her Auxiliary Territorial Service uniform ( see next box ), she and Princess Margaret snuck out of the palace and joined the celebrating crowds on London’s streets, all without being recognised.

W is for... WORLD WAR II

Aged 13 when WWII broke out, Princess Elizabeth was evacuated to Windsor Castle with her nine-year-old sister, Princess Margaret. As the conflict progressed, Elizabeth joined in with the war effort, tending her allotments as part of the Dig for Victory campaign and eventually joining the Auxiliary Territorial Service. She is the first female royal to have joined the armed services as a full-time active member.

X is for... X-RAYS

From tea towels to teapots, royal memorabilia is a massive business, but not all collectibles have received the royal seal of approval. In 2011, 18 dental X-rays of Elizabeth II’s teeth, together with those of her mother and father – taken between 1942 and 1946 – were withdrawn from an auction in Gloucestershire. Lawyers for the royal family cited a right of privacy for medical records and the lot was pulled from sale.

Y is for... YACHT

Now a popular visitor attraction and events venue in Edinburgh’s Port of Leith, HMY Britannia served the royal family for 44 years, travelling more than a million nautical miles. But in December 1997, the yacht was deemed too expensive to maintain and run, and the huge vessel was decommissioned. The Queen is said to have shed a tear at the ship’s decommissioning ceremony in Portsmouth.

Z is for... ZAMBIA

The Queen is expected to remain politically neutral, but she has, on occasion, been a target for the decisions of her governments. In 1979, during a visit to Zambia, some Zambians waved banners in protest against the UK government’s plans to recognise the controversial political regime of neighbouring Zimbabwe Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), led by Abel Muzorewa.

[gilded-saffron]

Angel's Florist

Somewhere in the heart of Queens, New York, a florist’s shop sat comfortably between an endless sea of row houses. A quaint thing, no more than fifteen or twenty metres across before it ended, and coloured a misplaced yet all the same beautiful mint blue, with a flat above the storefront that could comfortably fit one, maybe two if they loved each other. Home-y it was, with plants hanging out from window boxes and more visible inside the store’s windows. Display bouquets and arrangements for every occasion that passers by could gaze at pensively or dismiss at their discretion. Most people who’ve had an inclination to wander about the neighbourhood know of the owner, or at least the odd way he came in. A kind spirited young man who’d bought the lot and quickly moved in seemingly the next day after months with not a whisper of interest from anyone. One day, out walking your dog, or watering your lawn and catching a glimpse of the blaringly red “Sold!” Sign attached to three places on the property and a stake adjacent to the side walk and vaguely wonder what kindness or disturbance followed with it, only for it to look fully renovated the next morning when you head out to work, wondering if it’d always been right there. 

Today that shop had been open for almost a year; ten months and sixteen days to be exact. It was early May, the start of the season for outdoor gatherings, and goodness did the people like flowers for them, at least enough to keep business afloat and Noah eternally busy that is. Every day from Ten O’clock to five, the store was open to anyone with a story they wanted to tell through the bouquets. Professions of romance, familial affections, loss, guilt, anything that had been put in the heart, he could put in the flowers. 

 Noah had been working on this flower arrangement for no less than a millenia in his mind. In reality it was only 9:24 AM and he had only been working on it since eight, nonetheless he had a fulfilling time complaining out loud to nobody in the back of the shop. The morning birds of the city chirped loudly perched upon the building’s roof and their song reached through the open window beside his work desk as some wind blew in. Scattered petals of the roses he’s been handling all morning crumbled and covered the surface with every movement, and now further by the wind, trying to make this arrangement along with its matching bouquet worthy of only the finest day. They had been commissioned by a young couple’s family that were to be married later that afternoon. Noah had breathed a heavy weight off of his chest and fell to the chair behind him upholstered with some wild-coloured weaving.

“I’m going to have to redo this damn thing again.” He muttered to himself, rubbing his tired fingers to his temples. 

In his blindness to organise each colour and texture in the vases nicely, he hadn’t noticed that some of them had ended up looking half wilted from all the movement until he took a step back, even if they shouldn’t have grown so dry so quickly. Oftentimes Noah was a good florist, maybe the best if you asked the right person, though the perfection he felt weddings needed culminated into something that ate at him for months afterwards. All those families deserved nothing less than his best work for such an important celebration; binding two people together in love, forever. Any other instance of a commision was easily put together, be it lavish office parties, birthdays, celebrations of life and so forth. He knew what each flower meant like his heart was an atlas for it, he knew colours and their schemes like it was all he lived for in the end, because it honestly, truly was. 

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Posting this here with hopes that it'll entice me to fix and/or finish this wreck

[infoblogifyzen]

Enhance Your New York Wedding with Lenox Hill Florist's Lobby Flowers

Planning your wedding can be both exhilarating and overwhelming. But one thing is certain—your choice of flowers can make all the difference. Whether you’re envisioning an intimate garden party or a grand ballroom gala, the right wedding florist in New York can turn your floral dreams into a breathtaking reality. At Lenox Hill Florist & Events, we specialize in creating memorable experiences through our expertly designed wedding arrangements and elegant lobby flowers.

The Importance of Choosing the Right Wedding Florist in New York

When it comes to weddings, every detail matters. And flowers are no exception. A skilled wedding florist in New York can not only provide beautiful bouquets but also enhance the entire ambiance of your event. From the bridal bouquet to the table centerpieces, each floral arrangement plays a crucial role in setting the tone and style of your special day.

Crafting Your Vision with Lenox Hill Florist & Events

At Lenox Hill Florist & Events, we pride ourselves on understanding your unique vision and bringing it to life. Our team of experienced florists will work closely with you to design arrangements that reflect your personal style and preferences. Whether you prefer classic roses, exotic orchids, or seasonal wildflowers, we have the expertise to create stunning designs that will leave a lasting impression.

Enhancing Wedding Venues with Floral Arrangements

Flowers have the power to transform any venue into a romantic and enchanting space. Imagine walking down an aisle adorned with delicate petals, or standing beneath a beautifully decorated arch as you exchange vows. Our Wedding florist New York is adept at enhancing both indoor and outdoor venues with floral arrangements that complement the setting and enhance its natural beauty.

Customizing Your Bridal Bouquet

The bridal bouquet is one of the most important elements of your wedding floral arrangements. It’s a reflection of your personality and style, and it will be featured prominently in your wedding photos. Our florists at Lenox Hill Florist & Events will work with you to create a custom bouquet that perfectly matches your dress and overall wedding theme. From traditional white roses to vibrant and colorful blooms, we offer a wide variety of options to suit your tastes.

Incorporating Seasonal Flowers into Your Wedding Decor

One of the best ways to make your wedding floral arrangements unique is to incorporate seasonal flowers. Seasonal blooms not only look fresh and vibrant but also add a touch of local charm to your event. Our wedding florists in New York are well-versed in the seasonal availability of different flowers and can recommend the best options for your wedding date. This approach ensures that your arrangements are not only beautiful but also environmentally friendly.

Creating Stunning Centerpieces

Centerpieces are a key component of your wedding reception decor. They set the mood for your guests as they dine and celebrate with you. At Lenox Hill Florist & Events, we specialize in creating stunning centerpieces that are both elegant and eye-catching. Whether you prefer tall arrangements that make a statement or low, intimate designs that encourage conversation, we have the skills and creativity to bring your vision to life.

Elevating Your Reception with Lobby Flowers

Lobby flowers can make a significant impact on the overall look and feel of your wedding venue. They serve as a beautiful welcome for your guests and set the tone for the entire event. Our team at Lenox Hill Florist & Events can design and install gorgeous lobby arrangements that complement your wedding theme and create a cohesive look throughout the venue. From grand floral displays to subtle accents, our lobby flowers are sure to impress.

The Role of Flowers in Wedding Photography

Flowers play a crucial role in wedding photography. They add color, texture, and depth to your photos, making them more visually appealing. Our wedding florists in New York understand the importance of creating arrangements that photograph well. We use the highest quality blooms and pay close attention to the details, ensuring that your flowers look stunning in every shot.

Personalized Service for Your Special Day

At Lenox Hill Florist & Events, we believe that every wedding is unique and deserves personalized attention. Our team is dedicated to providing exceptional service from the initial consultation to the final installation. We take the time to understand your vision, preferences, and budget, and we work tirelessly to ensure that every detail is perfect.

Budget-Friendly Options for Every Couple

We understand that weddings can be expensive, and we strive to offer budget-friendly options without compromising on quality. Our wedding florists in New York can recommend cost-effective flowers and designs that still deliver a high-impact visual experience. We believe that every couple deserves beautiful flowers on their special day, regardless of their budget.

Bringing Your Dream Wedding to Life

Your wedding day is one of the most important days of your life, and we are honored to be part of it. At Lenox Hill Florist & Events, we are committed to making your floral dreams come true. Our team of expert florists will work with you every step of the way to create stunning arrangements that reflect your style and make your wedding unforgettable.

Final Thoughts on Choosing the Perfect Wedding Florist

Choosing the right wedding florist in New York is essential to creating a beautiful and memorable wedding. At Lenox Hill Florist & Events, we have the experience, creativity, and dedication to make your floral dreams a reality. From custom bridal bouquets to elegant lobby flowers, we offer a wide range of services to meet your needs. Contact us today to start planning your dream wedding with our expert team.

[heavenlyhoundoom]

Fnaf next generation au facts.(trigger warning, death and miscarriage.)

1.This universe takes place in January, fifteenth, 2032.

2.Blossom is the oldest of three daughters with her younger sisters being Mavis(31) and Penny(29).

3.Moon and Blossom are thrity three and will be thirty four later that year.

4.Blossom's mom is a blue opossum named Skye(brown eyes) and her dad is a pink oppossum named Jason(purple eyes).

5.Mavis had kids before Blossom.(Her husband is a brown fruitbat with yellow eyes named Dylan, their oldest kid is a purple fruitbat with brown eyes and markings named Bridget(8), and their youngest kid is a brown opossum with purple markings and yellow eyes named Percy(6).)

6.Lulu is a middle child with an older brother and a younger sister.

7.Moondrop is a rainbow baby and Eclipse is the older brother he and Sundrop never got to meet.

8.History repeated itself with Moondrop's daughter Luna is also a rainbow baby with Hannah(would've been a harlequin oppossum with the right fur being pink and the left fur being black, and having brown eyes) being the older sister she and Trixie never got to meet.

9.Speaking of family members Luna and Trixie never got to meet, Moondrop and Sundrop's father, Oswald passed away before either of them had kids.(based on how Chilli's mother passed away before she had kids and had to learn to be a mom without her)

10.Oswald died in a work accident shortly after Blossom and Moondrop got married.

11.Luna's family and Bella's family are neighbors who live two houses from eachother.

12.They show will mainly focus and Sundrop and Moondrop's family tree, with the episodes focusing on Moondrop's family taking place in Rochester, New York while the episodes focusing on Sundrop's family taking place in Canandaigua, New York.

13.Sundrop and Moondrop grew up in Skeneatles, New York with their childhood home looking like this.(Their mother, Astra still lives there.)

14.Luna's best friend is Emily while Trixie's best friend is a red macaque named Scarlett.

15.Scarlett is actually the daughter of Blossom's childhood friend, Mango(female toucan).

16.The ages of the kids: Luna(7), Trixie(5), Fuzzy(6), Cosmo(4), Emily(7), Bella(7), Charlie(5), Scarlett(5), Lucia(10), Kasumi(8), Petunia(6), Gilbert(5), Brucie(7), Crystal(4), Freddy Jr(9), Lolbit(9), Andrew(8), Mabel(10), Edwardo(8), Liam(6).

17. The jobs of the parents: Moondrop: Gymnastics instructor, Blossom: Real esate agent, Sundrop: Daycare attendant, Lulu: Software engineer, Willy: Animator, Lisa: Film director, Bonnie: Music teacher, Chica: Food critic, Mango: Surgeon, Frank(Scarlett's dad): Pet groomer, Tito: Guitarist, Toki: Wedding designer, Gus: Tour guide, Oakley: Activist, Cammy: Fashion designer, Arty: Artist, Sara: Florist, Knighty: Bodyguard, Freddy: Pizzeria owner, Paula: Yoga instructor, Foxy: Fish market owner, Vixen: Make-up artist, Ozzie: Pilot, Harold: Accountant, Roxanne: Racer, Katie: Game developer, El chip: Chef, Happyfrog: Babysitter.

18.Unlike her older sisters, Penny decided to not have kids because she believes that she doesn't have the patience needed to properly raise them.

19.Happyfrog has a little sister named Phoebe.(Pheobe has two daughters)

20.Just like Oswald, Happyfrog and Phoebe's mother, Dixie passed away before her grandchildren ever got to meet her.

[learningselflove]

Lessons in dress shopping

Every little girl fantasizes about the day she gets to put on a wedding dress for the first time.   

Even at age 10, I had strong opinions about the dresses showcased on Say Yes to the Dress. I couldn’t wait to get married at age 20 just like my parents did. Well, things didn't quite work out that way (which I couldn’t be happier about now!). I’m 28 and I became engaged in October 2022. One of the first thoughts in my head after the initial shock wore off was, “Oh no, I don’t want to go dress shopping.”  

I lost my mom to cancer when I was 11. It’s hard for anyone to go through a loss but especially on a child. My dad was the one with the career. He worked long days commuting to his job in New York City. After my mother passed, my dad tried his best to make sure I was fed. He didn’t know how to cook. He would make easy meals like spaghetti, frozen TV dinners, hamburgers, or chicken nuggets. I also decided to become a vegetarian when I was 14. I ate plenty of slices of pizza and plenty of bowls of pasta. It was easy and what worked for the both of us. This was before all the different types of mock meat they have at the grocery stores.  

On a diet of pizza, pasta, and hormonal grief, you could assume I wasn’t in the best shape. I was shaped differently than all of the other girls in my grade. I wore a size 14. Other girls my age were wearing 0s and 2s. I didn’t have body image issues. I knew that I was also further along in puberty than they were.  

I have spent most of my 20s trying to lose weight. I tried Keto, the meditteranean diet, low sugar, you name it. I have tried any work out plan I could get my hands on. It wasn’t until 2020 that I was able to have a doctor take my weight struggles seriously and my doctor finally ordered bloodwork for me. I was able to lose 30 pounds with very, very strict calorie counting. However, It was clearly insufficient for me. Eventually, the weight came back. When I received my bloodwork results, I had high testosterone. It’s almost impossible to lose weight when your hormones aren’t balanced.  

I have been working on it losing weightfor two years now. I have finally taken medications that help me feel the way a functioning adult should. I have lost weight, but I was still uncomfortable regarding the idea of dress shopping. I spent countless hours admiring Pinterest boards and looking at the beautiful, curvy models wearing gorgeous ivory gowns. I couldn’t picture myself in gorgeous ivory gowns that showed off my figure.’m not shaped the same way as these models. I carry more weight in my stomach and my face. How am I supposed to feel beautiful?  

I booked everything for my wedding early. It wasn’t until I spoke to my potential florist that I felt that I needed to go look at wedding dresses. To be honest, I was going to save that for the last possible moment. My florist wasn’t going to meet with me until I had my dress picked because she needed to arrange a bouquet to coordinate my gown. I guess I had to make an appointment as soon as I could.  

I was anxious.  

I was sick to my stomach thinking about putting on a dress; especially in front of other people. I prepared myself to look my absolute worst. I expected these dresses to hug every curve - in a bad way. My brain had already accepted the fact that I’d be forced to wear a dated ball gown because of my body type.  

I wasn’t going to let my poor self-esteem ruin one of the most memorable days of my life. I put on makeup in a traditionally bridal style. I wore a smokey eye with the tiniest bit of glitter on the inner corner of my eye. I curled my hair to look like it had just come out of French braids. I wore my most expensive perfume.  

I made it to my appointment and met with the sweetest bridal stylist. The stylist pulled the dresses I picked from the online selection. I tried on the first one - I fell in love. It was a gorgeous mermaid style dress. The bodice was lace with plenty of tule emerging from the thighs. The neckline was plunging and there were whimsical detached sleeves.  

I felt empowered.  

I felt confident.  

I felt like this dress was for me.  

I couldn’t pick the first dress I try on, right? Of course not! I needed to try more. 

I tried three more dresses on. Each was a different style, shape and texture. These were all dresses I liked on the models. It wasn’t until my stylist asked how I was feeling about the choices I made. One felt too matronly, another hugged my stomach way too tightly, and the third just wasn’t right for a Halloween wedding. My stylist had an idea of what I would like at this point. I let her pick one more for me.  

She carried the dress in, and at first, I had no idea what I was looking at.  

There were so many different textures and patterns that I thought it would be a hideous dress. BUT I was wrong. It was perfect. The dress was similar to the first dress; but better. There were bits of glitter down the middle of the bodice. The tulle that extended from the thighs was patterned with the smallest bit of intricate lace. The dress hugged my curves; the right way this time.  

I felt like the most beautiful bride.  

 I couldn’t stop looking at myself. 

It was also in that moment that I realized I was being too hard on myself. I should be proud of the small accomplishments I have made with regard to my health. My future husband clearly thinks I am beautiful enough to be his wife. My family cried when I put on a dress in front of them. My own worst critic is myself. I was able to find a dress that looked fantastic on my atypical body type.  

There was a lesson for me to learn: women are too hard on themselves. We don’t need crash diets to fit a dress. We are not born to fit in clothes, clothes are made to fit us.  

[themculibrary]

Steve Rogers + Rare Pairings Masterlist

Close-Up Magic (ao3) - Draco_sollicitus scott/steve M, 5k

Summary: After getting apprehended for supporting Captain America in the battle against the Accords, Scott Lang finds himself under house arrest (and no, he will not just be "grateful" for that "light sentence," Ross, and yes he still really, really wants to punch a Stark in the face, no lessons learned here!).

A little heartbroken, and a lot lost, the only thing that breaks up the monotony of Scott's life are the visits he gets from his precious Peanut. And when Cassie comes home on the weekend with a wild story about her new best friend, Captain America, well, Langs always did have active imaginations.

(Scott is definitely about to learn that his daughter's imaginary friend ... isn't so imaginary).

Counterfeit and Counterpart (ao3) - Frea_O maria/steve T, 28k

Summary: Five times Maria Hill doesn’t understand Natasha Romanoff, and why she might be better off that way.

Dad's Got Skeletons (ao3) - kehinki steve/howard T, 3k

Summary: “To think he became a dad—your dad. A daddy.” He looked up sharply and saw that Steve’s smile had twisted a little bit, pulled up at one corner like a smirk, except no, Captain America did not smirk. “You know, it’s funny. I called him daddy once too.”

Floral Engagement (ao3) - ABrighterDarkness, NachoDiablo pepper/steve T, 5k

Summary: The cute blond florist keeps gifting Pepper flowers. She's determined not to read into it. But she really should.

Found Your Husband (ao3) - sara_holmes clint/steve T, 8k

Summary: Clint was never any good at strategy. He's pretty good at putting his foot in his mouth, though. Never to the extent where he ends up accidentally marrying someone he's not seen in twenty years, though.

How to Measure Distance Between Two Points (ao3) - frostian jane/steve T, 63k

Summary: Dr. Jane Foster and her assistant, Darcy Lewis, have arrived at the Avengers Initiative compound in Upstate New York for personal safety. To everyone’s shock Dr. Foster reveals she has finally succeeded in not only opening up the Einstein-Rosen Bridge but controlling it, essentially creating a human version of the Bi-Frost that would allow visitors from all Nine Realms and beyond.

This unforeseen success will no doubt attract the attention of both AIM and Hydra, one of which succeeded in kidnapping the women only weeks before. Captain Rogers, still at odds with the powers-that-be about his friend, Bucky Barnes, will have to use not only his military prowess but cunning and intelligence in order to ensure the women’s safety. Because, as it turns out, the good doctor and her assistant have a knack for creating havoc all on their own.

It’s Not Personal (ao3) - TheMeaningofHaste steve/brock E, 5k

Summary: There on the mats of the dirty gym floor, with Rumlow pinned beneath him, Steve expected to get hit, he really did, when he leaned in for a kiss. What he didn’t expect was a hand to fist in his hair, pulling just this side of too hard, and keeping him close.

That was the first time Steve had sex with Brock Rumlow. He was a little ashamed to admit that wasn’t the last.

Let’s Play House (ao3) - Not Applicable (not_applicable) rhodey/steve M, 4k

Summary: “So. Good morning, I guess.”

“Yeah, good morning,” Steve said, and he took a seat on the bed beside Rhodey. Rhodey was still just in his boxers with his phone resting on one leg, and he was twisting his matching wedding band around his left ring finger as he grinned warily at Steve. “So,” Steve continued, and he held up his left hand, “this happened last night.”

Say “ahhh” (ao3) - TetrodotoxinB bruce/steve E, 6k

Summary: Steve agrees to roleplay a medical scene with Bruce. It’s a bit more intense than Steve expected, but all’s well that ends well.

scott lang is absolutely, positively going to die here (ao3) - Skyuni123 scott/steve T, 2k

Summary: scott lang has a not-so tiny, able to be seen from space, crush on steve rogers.

steve rogers is thoroughly aware of that.

Something New (ao3) - NachoDiablo rhodey/steve T, 1k

Summary: Written for Rarepair Prompt #251: Steve Rogers comes out to the Avengers about his sexuality. He wants to be out and maybe start dating. One of the Avengers has his eye, but they couldn’t like him back, could they?

Stages of Grief (ao3) - AshaCrone steve/howard, mentioned steve/bucky E, 10k

Summary: Steve Rogers finds that he didn't wake up in the 21st century alone, in the most painful way possible.

The Way We Were (ao3) - mathildia steve/brock E, 12k

Summary: Rumlow dipped his head, touched his chin to his chest and looked up at Steve. It was odd, sort of innocent. And that was just weird. “Yeh, I know” he said. “But I’m serious; don’t want things to change.”

Steve huffed out a fast breath that almost sounded like a scoff. “Well they’re fucking..., they’re fucking gonna.”

Warm and Safe (ao3) - Anakin_needs_love peter quill/steve T, 1k

Summary: Peter and Steve spend a quiet and relaxing time under a tree outside the compound.

We’ve Got Time (ao3) - ABrighterDarkness scott/steve T, 4k

Summary: Scott was pretty sure this was all meant to be the butt of some sort of cosmic joke. Like, he got it. He was a pretty easy target for that kind of thing.

But he really, really hoped this wasn’t a joke.

Worth It (ao3) - snack_size bruce/steve E, 15k

Summary: Bruce likes Steve, and, as it turns out, Steve likes Bruce - but it's all very awkward, and they agree to take it slow.

[blooms-in-bunches]

North Merrick Florist

Picking the ideal flowers for your wedding event is an important element of your wedding day. Not only do they include charm and ambiance, but they also show the season in which your wedding event occurs. Discover how you can select your wedding event flowers by season, making sure that your flower choices are not just stunning but seasonally suitable and cost-efficient.

Spring Wedding Events: A Time for Renewal and Bloom Spring is a season of new beginnings, and the flower options are plentiful. Popular spring flowers consist of:

Tulips: Offered in different colors, tulips represent joy and love. Peonies: Recognized for their rich, full blooms, peonies represent love and success. Lilacs: With a beautiful scent, lilacs represent the very first feelings of love. Hyacinths: Their dynamic colors and sweet fragrance make them a captivating option.

Summer Season Wedding Events: Lively and Dynamic Floral Selections Summer season wedding events can include a wide variety of intense and strong flowers. Suitable options for this season are:

Roses: A classic sign of love and charm, roses are best for a traditional summertime wedding event. Dahlias: Recognized for their distinct patterns and dynamic colors, dahlias represent dedication and an eternal bond. Sunflowers: Signifying love and commitment, sunflowers include a joyful touch to any wedding event. Zinnias: These flowers, readily available in several colors, represent enduring love and are ideal for a vibrant summer season event.

Fall Wedding Events: Rich Hues and Earthy Tones Fall brings a color palette of deep, rich colors, and your flower options ought to show this seasonal shift:

Chrysanthemums: Representing happiness and appeal, chrysanthemums are a staple of fall wedding events. Marigolds: With their strong shades, marigolds represent comfort and success. Dahlias: Continuing from summertime, dahlias stay a popular option for their depth of color and complex petals. Asters: Representing love and knowledge, asters include a fragile touch to your autumnal wedding event.

Winter Season Weddings: Sophistication in Cool Tones Winter season wedding events can be wonderful with the best flower choices. Think about these flowers for a winter season event:

Amaryllis: Recognized for their striking look, amaryllis represents superb appeal. Anemones: With their deep shades and white accents, anemones are ideal for a winter season color palette. Camellias: Signifying adoration and excellence, camellias include sophistication to any winter season wedding event. Poinsettias: Though typically connected with Christmas, poinsettias can include a joyful touch to a winter season wedding event.

Tips for Picking Seasonal Wedding Event Flowers Inspect Accessibility: Make certain your picked flowers remain in season to keep expenses down and quality high. Think About the Color Design: Match your flowers to your wedding event's color palette for a cohesive appearance. Collaborate with a Florist: Expert floral designers can supply important guidance on seasonal schedule and arrangements.

Picking wedding event flowers by season not just welcomes the natural charm of your wedding's season but also typically provides expense benefits and guarantees the freshness of the flowers. Whether you're imagining a spring garden wedding event, a dynamic summertime event, a relaxing autumnal event, or a winter season wonderland, picking the best seasonal flowers will boost the appeal and atmosphere of your big day.

Flower Delivery North Merrick NY

Blooms in Bunches (formerly Flowers by Voegler) is a local florist in North Merrick, New York, providing fresh, beautiful flowers, sensational arrangements, and same-day delivery for birthdays, anniversaries, sympathy, and all of life's unique occasions.

We understand that flowers hold the power to reveal feelings, and we strive to make each delivery a remarkable experience. Whether you're memorializing a wondrous occasion or offering genuine condolences, our same-day flower delivery service guarantees your thoughtful gesture gets there quickly in North Merrick and surrounding areas.

Our shop is filled with a wide range of fresh flowers, permitting us to produce arrangements that show your distinct style and choices. From classic roses to dynamic mixed bouquets, our floral designers will help you select the ideal flowers to communicate your message. We concentrate on designing custom-made arrangements for all of life's special events consisting of birthdays, Mother's Day, Valentine's Day, anniversaries, new babies, sympathy, and more.

Blooms in Bunches (formerly Flowers by Voegler) takes pride in being a trusted member of the North Merrick town. Our commitment to quality, artistry, and client service sets us apart. Our company believe that plants have the ability to lighten up someone's day, communicate heartfelt feelings, and make any event extra special.

Enjoy the exquisiteness of Flowers Blooms in Bunches (formerly Flowers by Voegler) - call us at 516) 481-1277, visit our shop at 1171 Merrick Ave, North Merrick, NY 11566, or search our selection online at https://www.flowersbyvoegler.com/ for the perfect flowers to celebrate your next unique occasion here in North Merrick, New York!

Flower Shop North Merrick

Blooms in Bunches 1171 Merrick Ave, North Merrick, NY 11566(516) 481-1277 https://www.flowersbyvoegler.com/

Read our North Merrick florist review

Flower Delivery North Merrick

[indianflowers01]

Chic and Stunning: The Best Wedding Garlands Across the USA

Chic and Stunning: The Best Wedding Garlands Across the USA

Planning a wedding and looking to add a touch of elegance? Wedding garlands are a fantastic way to enhance your décor with style and sophistication. Whether you're dreaming of a classic floral look or something more modern, here's a roundup of the best wedding garlands across the USA to help you find the perfect touch for your big day.

1. The Fresh Floral Dream (California): If you're in love with the idea of fresh blooms, California's lush floral markets offer some of the most beautiful garlands. Think roses, peonies, and lush greenery, all hand-crafted to bring a touch of natural beauty to your wedding. Local florists often provide customization, so you can get exactly what you envision.

2. Rustic Elegance (Texas): For those leaning towards a rustic vibe, Texas has a great selection of garlands made from dried flowers and greenery. These garlands offer a charming, earthy aesthetic that's perfect for barn or outdoor weddings. Plus, they can often be kept as keepsakes after the wedding.

3. Luxurious Silk (New York): In the heart of New York, silk garlands offer a touch of luxury and durability. These high-quality, handcrafted garlands look incredibly realistic and can be reused for future events or even as part of your home décor. They're perfect for a sophisticated city wedding.

4. Whimsical and Modern (Florida): Florida’s vibrant floral designers create garlands that mix bold colors and creative designs. If you’re after something a bit more playful and contemporary, you’ll find garlands with exotic flowers and unique shapes that will definitely make a statement.

5. Elegant Greenery (Oregon): For a sleek, minimalist look, Oregon’s garlands made from rich green foliage are perfect. They work beautifully with a range of styles, from modern to bohemian, adding a touch of chic simplicity to your wedding.

No matter your style or location, there’s a stunning garland out there to make your wedding day as chic and memorable as you’ve always dreamed.

[aceflorist1-blog]

Syosset Florist

Flowers are nature's artwork, altering with the seasons and supplying an assortment of colors and scents throughout the year. This ever-evolving flower landscape affects customer choices, resulting in seasonal best-sellers in the flower market. Have a look at the most popular flowers for each season, presenting insights for flower designers, event coordinators, and flower lovers wanting to remain in style.

Spring: A Season of Reawakening Spring is associated with renewal and restoration, and the flower options show this style. Key spring flowers consist of:

Tulips: Recognized for their dynamic colors and sophisticated shapes, tulips are essential spring flowers. They signify love and clean slates, making them a popular option for wedding events and Easter events.

Daffodils: These colorful yellow blossoms are frequently related to spring's arrival. They signify renewal and are a staple for adding a pleasant touch to any arrangement.

Cherry Blossoms: Though not a conventional cut flower, cherry blooms are extremely in demand in spring, specifically for outside occasions and celebrations, representing renewal and the short lived nature of life.

Summer season: Dynamic and Strong Options Summer season's flowers are identified by strong colors and hearty structures that withstand the heat. Popular summer season flowers consist of:

Sunflowers: With their big, bright faces, sunflowers are a summer season favorite. They represent love, commitment, and longevity, making them perfect for warm bouquets and rustic arrangements.

Roses: Although roses are a year-round staple, they are especially popular in summertime with a larger range of colors readily available. They represent love and enthusiasm, ideal for romantic events.

Hydrangeas: These rich blossoms are a favorite for both their fullness and their capability to alter color based upon the soil's pH level. They include a touch of sophistication to any summer season event.

Fall: Warm Colors and Abundant Textures Fall brings a palette shift to warmer tones and textures. Popular fall flowers consist of:

Chrysanthemums: Typically called "mums," these flowers are fall's trademark. Readily available in a range of colors, they represent happiness and allure in the fall season.

Dahlias: With their detailed petals and spectacular shades, dahlias are a favorite for adding elegance to any fall arrangement.

Marigolds: Recognized for their abundant orange and yellow colors, marigolds are frequently utilized in fall events, signifying warmness and cleverness.

Winter Season: Classic Beauty and Joyful Cheer Winter season's flower choices are just about classic sophistication and joyful cheer. Primary winter season flowers consist of:

Poinsettias: Associated with the holiday, poinsettias are a leading seller for their red and green foliage. They are a sign of good cheer and jubilation.

Amaryllis: These striking flowers are popular for their high stems and big, trumpet-shaped flowers, bringing a sense of drama to winter season design.

Evergreens and Holly: While not flowers in the conventional sense, evergreens and holly are necessary for producing a joyful environment throughout the cold weather.

Recognizing the level of popularity of seasonal flowers is vital for anybody in the flower market or planning an event. Each season brings its own favorites, showing the altering vibes and colors of the year. From the fresh blossoms of spring to the warm tones of fall, keeping attuned to these trends guarantees that your flower choices are always in harmony with the time of year.

Flower Delivery Syosset NY

Ace Florist & Flower Delivery is a neighborhood florist with excellent flower designs as well as quick shipment solutions for every celebration in New york city. We are open on Mondays-Saturdays from 9:00 AM-6:00 PM as well as Sundays from 10:00 AM-2:00 PM.

As a family-owned blossom shop in business for over 50 years, we are one of the leading flower designers in Long Island! We are dedicated to giving you just the highest-quality flower products as well as superb customer service you are entitled to. Our goal is to make all our consumers satisfied and pleased with each and every single order!

We focus on daily arrangements and occasion-themed flowers. We are also recognized for our high-quality wedding celebration as well as funeral arrangements. For the most crucial minutes in your life, we make sure to provide you with just the best floral styles that you'll value for a lifetime.

Trust Ace Florist & Flower Delivery with all your flowers as well as presents! We lug a large array of top quality blossoms, shipped in everyday for assured quality. From red roses to pink peonies to white lilies to yellow sunflowers to orange tulips, we've got all your favorites!

Obtained a taste for lush eco-friendlies? We also have a large collection of lovely plants, from lovely succulents to indoor plants to exotic tropicals to lovely recipe gardens! Required gifts for a special event? We have an excellent selection of premium baskets, luxurious animals, welcoming cards, and also party design for any type of event.

Desire a personalized setup? Our group of talented floral designers will aid you create a distinct arrangement that's suited to your certain design and choices. Get your special someone an enchanting red rose bouquet for your anniversary. Surprise your mother with her favored blossoms to show your love and also appreciation.

Thrill your family and friends with a classy plan for a special occasion. Send out a sympathy gift basket to prolong your thoughts as well as petitions to a mourning loved one. Whatever your demands, Ace Florist & Flower Delivery has you covered!

We additionally provide quick delivery to locations all over New York. Our chauffeurs are well-appointed to ensure your blossoms and gifts arrive at your doorstep or your recipient's location in a timely manner and also without problem.

Put your order with us currently! Call us at (516) 682-8009 or leave a message on our web site at https://www.aceflorist.net/ for your requests and also queries.

Flower Shop Syosset

Ace Florist & Flower Delivery 45 Cold Spring Road Syosset, NY 11791 (516) 682-8009 https://www.aceflorist.net/

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Flower Delivery Syosset