Sarah, I've had this thought stuck in my head for awhile now, but, like, Harry fucking Rick Rolling you at your own wedding. The mischievous little shit dancing his way towards you with a grin on his face and trying to get you to dance with him to it. Ahh, concepts.
Okay Sarah, I’ve thought about this long enough. It’s been in my head all week, especially after you’ve continued to torture me in DMs and especially after I actually went to a wedding on Saturday.
I have a thing about cheesy-ass group dance songs like Cha-Cha Slide and Cupid Shuffle and I absolutely, 100% do not want them played at my wedding. I wouldn’t give the DJ a specific playlist of what I want played, but I would definitely give the DJ a list of songs that will not be played. Songs like that would be on that list. Harry would totally take advantage of that if you were to have such a list, and he’d Rick Roll you with one of the forbidden songs, I think. (Maybe even Never Gonna Give You Up, although I don’t think he would, because he probably loves that song).
Let’s take a song I absolutely loathe as an example. Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey. It would be a perfectly acceptable song, except for the fact that it is played at every single sporting event in Michigan, considering it mentions Detroit once. And it’s played at every sporting event in general.
Anyway, he’d probably get the DJ to play it, promising that it was a mistake on the list and that he would really, really appreciate it if they could make it happen for you. Reluctantly, the DJ agrees, and you’re chatting with a long-lost great aunt you were forced to invite even though you haven’t seen her since you were in diapers. The beginning chords of the song start to play and the hair on the back of your neck stands up. Your eyes immediately search for Harry, because you know he’s behind this somehow, and you find him sauntering over to you with a cheeky-ass smile on his face…
You groan and roll your eyes, biting your lower lip so you don’t show any amusement at all. He wiggles his eyebrows and offers you his hand when he reaches you, “C’mon, pet. It’s your favorite song!” You make a comment about wanting to talk with Aunt Rose more, even though you’re running out of topics that the two of you can chat about. Aunt Rose insists that you dance with your new husband to your favorite song!
He pulls you out onto the dance floor, giggling from the champagne he’s been drinking all evening, gliding his feet around you in a circle while you try to not let the bubbles of laughter in your throat escape. Once the song reaches the chorus, others have joined the dance floor, and you feel plain silly just standing there while everyone jumps up and down, shouting the famous lyrics at the top of their lungs. Harry encourages you, grabbing both of your hands while he hops on one foot, grinning from ear to ear. He’s got you and he knows it.
“You think you’re so funny, Styles,” you shake your head, your lips turning up into a smile.
“That’s because I am!” he’d shout, bopping his head and lacing his fingers with yours as he gets you to jump up and down with him.
It pains you to shout the lyrics along with him, but the way he laughs and the sloppy kisses he paints over your cheeks make it worth it. And yeah, you married a goofball, but at least you’ll be able to use this as revenge for the rest of your life.