where yeah, he promised that “of course i won’t cry, love. i’m a man.” but he’s standing there sniffling at the alter. where you make him laugh as he stands in front of everyone, and he hears titters of amusement behind his back while he clutches your hands and kisses you cheek gently. where his kisses taste of sweet champagne, and his tux gets progressively less-buttoned with every round of shots he orders for the boys. where he can’t stop twirling your fingers in his, and he presses the cool curve of his nose to the underside of your jaw, murmuring a simple, “mrs. styles” and where at the end of it all, he’s tipsy and giggling, spewing out random wedding facts such as “you really shouldn’t throw rice at weddings love, pigeons can’t digest it”
NOTES/WARNINGS: I’m so sorry for the long delay, but I was in Europe for a while! I am back now and ready to start writing again. Feedback please!
“I’m not going.”
I stared down my mother and sister as they held out a long green dress for me to wear for my dinner with Loki tonight. He had invited me this morning through a messenger, much to my mother’s delight. I, on the other hand, was anything but pleased.