#the crowd must have been showing him so much attention cos he always gets bashful and flustered

[leclercskiesahead]

He was like that the whole time…was he shy

s: pinkndbluever

[j0hn-deacons-perm]

Bizarre Love Triangle

‘86 John x Reader, tail end of the Magic Tour. 

word count: ~3.7k

Based off Bizarre Love Triangle by New Order (I recommend listening to it while reading) also the song just slaps

Also a quick author’s note. Did I write this until about 6 AM because I couldn’t sleep? Yeah, my dudes. There might still be a few mistakes and will fix them when found but hey, I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Last show. The bloody last show of this summer. Tour life has been nothing but stressful but to your surprise, even more rewarding simply with the audience reception. Every show packed with fans, many singing and bopping about like you were on the side lines. Despite being there for nearly every show, the anticipation never ceases to creep up on you. Shivers can be felt in your bones, ready for whatever is to come and you're not even the one on stage in half an hour. 

Standing and grabbing drinks, you sit next to John. His knee bouncing as he reads the paper, spotting he's on the current events. Sighing gently, you roam your eyes around the space around you. Brian is tuning his guitar with Fred and Roger sitting next to him. You spot a scrabble board on the table and Roger looking frustrated as he picks letters from the box's top. Most people on your team are racing around, making sure everything is where it should be and in working order. Hearing a sound from John, you look over and watch him skip over the obituaries. However, seeing a name that surely sounds phallic encites a laugh on your end. He raises an eyebrow in your direction.

"Dark comedy your thing, eh?"

"More like potty humor. I see a name like Medick and it's reflex to chuckle."

He scans the page and you laugh again.

"Damn it John, you're looking at Medick."

You determine the laugh he gives you is one out of pity with how bad your Scottish accent was. After apologizing for assaulting his senses, he gives you a smile and asks the time. Looking at your watch, your co-worker announced to everyone the fifteen minute mark before they were expected on stage.

"I hope that answers your question."

His eyes crinkle around the corners and your heart melts at the sight. Answering you with "It does, yeah", he folds the paper up and places it on the empty seat next to him. Attention now on you.

"Any plans post tour Y/N?"

"Besides catch up on nearly a month of lost sleep and time with Tom, probably nothing for a few days. At least that's the hope."

You can see his face shift into a slight discomfort but it might be out of reflex. Two weeks in you began missing your boyfriend back home and requested no one bring him up in conversation, even yourself. Knowing you slipping his name must have been reflex for him. Right?

"Can't imagine what you'd be losing sleep over besides trying to keep track of four old ladies."

"You guys are a lot. Especially you, Deacon. I swear sometimes it's easier looking after a toddler."

He fakes hurt, hand on his chest and a pronounced distressed face paints his features. The rest of the time passes far too quickly for your liking as the boys are rushed off to play their show. You follow behind, overseeing things go smoothy. Grabbing things they may need between songs and making your way off to the side, you nearly jump as the rise in audience volume increases. The floor beneath you shaking as the first few notes play. Hearing the opening lines to One Vision, you calculate the time to sing along but with the lyrics you happened to hear when bringing them their copious amounts of coffee into the recording room. What you didn't expect is John looking over to see you sing 'one dump, one turd, two tits, John Deacon' followed by 'chicken feet, babe' in his direction. You can see him smile when he looks down at his bass.

As the songs pass, your dancing picks up as well as his. You thought John was called Disco Deacy due to his taste in tunes but turns out he's a regular Belle of the ball. His spins and hops always melted your heart, watching him enjoy the music and play. You bop along with him more often than not, enjoying the beats you've heard now countless amounts of times. When I Want To Break Free ends and Brian's solo begins, he heads over in your direction. Grabbing a towel and a vodka tonic, he pats himself dry while watching from your usual view.

"I swear, this solos get longer with every tour."

"And I swear your hair gets bigger with every tour."

"Optical illusion, my dear. Brian's been getting smaller."

He winks and finishes off his drink. His company is gone as quick as it came, or at least it feels that way. The last half of the show plays out along with two encores. Fatigue dampens down on everyone as the crowd starts to disperse and the roadies begin taking apart set ups. Walking back with the boys, you hand them their normal robes and towels as they head to the dressing room. Making your way back to your post and sitting down, the realization of this is the end dawns on you. A month of tours finished. A month of pain, suffering, blood, sweat, and many tears but also a month of pure bliss. A month of becoming even closer with the band that you've come to know the much more this past year. Seeing them outside of the studio was a shock at first but tour life seems to mellow them out in ways. Less ego if that was even possible knowing them in the first place.

Knowing you probably should attend the after party the hotel Freddie booked, your feet ache as you rise up. Feeling the ripe ol' age of 87 at 29 is a sensation you've grown used to but hearing your joints crack as you rise really made you feel ancient.

"Here I thought I was the old one. I heard that all the way over here!"

John laughs at your cracky joints, walking over to give you an arm to support you. A bird is flipped in his direction and he smiles wider. You can tell someone's got more alcohol in their system.

"Now, Y/N, you ready for one last hurrah before a hangover and drive back home?"

"You're speaking my language, Deacy. I'll meet you at the ballroom, okay? Not really digging the uniform look at the minute, you know?"

"Don't be too late, I might be a goner by the time you arrive."

Following his lead to the bus, you and the rest of the group pile in. John walking up the steps in front of you gave you a view you didn't expect to enjoy so much. Those pants really doing him some favors. Shaking your head, you walk the few steps up and look around for a seat. Taking the only empty one next to Freddie, you lean over to congratulate a job well done and yet another successful tour on their end. Feeling eyes on you, a look over shows a poofy haired bassist waving at you once he has your attention. Waving back and turning back to Freddie, you can tell he has a question burning his tongue.

"You and John sure have gotten close over this tour."

"I guess so, yeah."

"Playing favorites? I see how it is, dear."

You slap his shouder with a 'piss off' and a cackle on his end.

"Are you still mad about the scrabble match the other week, Fred? Don't break up the Y/LN and Deacon dream team."

The last night in France ended with drama and an almost scratched cornea as scrabble pieces went flying. Deciding since Jim was present that night, even teams could be made. Brian and Roger, Fred and Jim, then you and John teamed up and no one's surprise, Freddie's normal strategy of adding one tile to make a bigger word didn't work out in his favor. What did come as a surprise was Brian and Roger not taking the win that night. Tempers flared as you and John danced about. When turned, you couldn't see the rogue piece flying your way. Luckily you blinked in time to save you from a more serious injury. 

"Please, I'm not mad over a silly fucking game."

"Yeah, one that nearly took out my eye!"

He rolled his eyes but smiled regardless of what he's trying to front. Pulling up to the hotel, you grab your luggage and is soon presented the key to your room. Not wanting to deal with an overly drunk John Deacon, you slightly rush to get ready. After party outfits normally consisted of a tank top, shorts and sneakers but considering it's the last one, you go more formal. Feeling very gussied up in heels you never thought you would wear at all this tour and a dress, you turn to the bathroom with your makeup bag is tow. What you already had on was fine but needed a touch up. Looking over your appearance and adjusting oddly fitting sections, you deem yourself offically ready. However feeling slightly over dressed and maybe showing more than what you're used to but hell, it's August. Realizing that it wasn't too late to call Tom, you dial the number that's branded in your brain at this point and wait for the phone to pick up. 

"Hello?"

He sounds slightly tired but the call was quick so you didn't feel too bad about it.

"Hey, just wanted to call and say I'll be home in the next couple days!"

"Oh shit, that time already? I've already got so used to you being gone!"

You couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"We're throwing one last bash before this ends for good. Freddie's doing of course."

"Well don't let me stop you, go and have fun!"

"Love ya, Tom."

"Love ya too, Y/N."

Hanging up and taking a breath, your chest feels odd. Putting it up to just this being nearly over, you stuff your keycard in your bra, spray on one more mist of perfume. The feeling in your chest worsens as you walk into the ballroom crowded with people, nearly completely naked women servers and the sight of John sitting back and flirting with one of them while talking with Brian. Grabbing one off the nearest tray, you down it then grab another immediately. Shaking your head and walking over to the two men in question, they greet you with side hugs. 

"Where are the other two?"

"Around somewhere."

"You know I'll hear it from both of them if I don't come say hi during the party."

Brian smiles, knowing far too well how they get with you at times. 

"Regardless, cheers! Cheers to a successful tour and good friends!"

You three clink your glasses together and conversation flows. Brian talks about his plans when arriving home to the wife and kids along with possibly making plans with some actress he's a fan of. Spacing out and looking at your surroundings, the music is pulsing through your lungs with the bass pumping through the speakers. You recognize the song easily, Blue Monday filling your ears and the bass matches your heartbeat once you turn back to your friends and hear John conversing with one of the women attending the party. Watching him shift so she can sit next to him, her body pressing against his while he whispers in her ear, you're in need of a change of scenery. You finally figured out what the sinking feeling in your chest was.

"Hey Bri, care you dance?"

"Not really. Not really my kind of music, Y/N."

"Please?"

Batting your eyelashes in hopes of hiding how uncomfortable you are, it fails and he picks up on your body language. 

"I guess you caught me in a good mood."

Sitting up, you two walk over to the other dancing party goers and while stiff as a board, Brian tries to do something with his body.

"Is everything okay? You seemed a bit off when you came in but now I know something's up. Did you call Tom?"

"How dare you say his name?!"

"Figured it'd be safe when you see him in, what, two days?"

"I'm taking the piss and I did. He seems happy to have me back but I think something's happened."

"He's not cheating on you, is he?!"

"Oh god no! I.....I think I've developed feelings for John."

You're pretty sure if he had a drink in his hand, it would've crashed all over the floor. 

"Want to head somewhere else and talk about it?"

"Please."

Taking your arm and leading you through the crowd, Brian leads you two outside. A handful of people occupy the space but mostly to get a smoke in quick before heading back in. Spacing yourself away from the others as far as possible, you and Brian sit on one of the benches. Your breathing is unsteady and worsens as you try to calm it down. He puts a hand on your knee and rubs gentle circles in hopes of doing something for your nerves.

"I'm not going to lie, Y/N, can't say I didn't exactly see it coming."

"Gee, thanks Bri. Exactly what I want to hear."

"Is this a recent development?"

Thinking back, it started in the studio. It was around the time they started recording the album and you started just watching them play behind the producer. Wasn't until you watched John lick his fingers before playing the strings on his bass again where something flickered in you.

"....Shit."

That was almost a year ago. 

"Well, around the time you guys started recording the new album."

His eyes widened. Blinking slightly resembling that of a reptile in its speed.

"Your 'shit' is valid."

"I know! The more time I spend with him, the more I realize I really care for the guy. But I can't just up and leave Tom. I can't just...hurt him like that. He doesn't deserve it in the slightest."

You sigh, feeling tears wanting to trickle out of your eyes any second.

"But I've been finding my feelings for him fading the more I'm with John. What if I leave Tom, then what? Just go up to John and be like 'oh hey, I have some strong feelings for you. Wanna do something?'"

Brian wraps a curl around his finger, pulling as he thinks. He lets out a sigh of his own.

"Honestly, I'm going through the same thing right now with Chrissie. That actress, Anita...we've been talking and I've developed some feelings for her. Ones I haven't had with Chrissie in a while, now. I have a wife and kids but should I persue this?"

You give him a sympathetic look.

"We're fucked, aren't we?"

"Maybe a little bit. But at least you're not married."

You look at each other in solidarity. Knowing each other's struggles far too well. He brings up the fair point that you aren't married. You also think back to how things were before you left for tour and it wasn't the best. You missed Tom, you really did. But was the passion there like it was previously? Not especially. Sometimes it just felt more like a friends with benefits situation rather than a full blown relationship lasting three years. 

"You know what? I'm going for it."

"Positive, love?"

"I think so." 

Sitting up and brushing off your dress, Brian stands with you.

"I think I might have a talk with Anita and go from there on how to do this. Chrissie doesn't deserve being left for another woman but sometimes people outgrow each other. Relationships evolves and sometimes they become stagnant."

Walking back to your previous place inside, you're greeted with the sight of the woman gone and replaced with Freddie and Roger. Bending down and asking a quick 'Can we talk?' to John, you two head over to the hallway. You're shaking and can't look him in the eye. Trying to get your sights on him, he lifts a hand to your chin, using a few fingers to guide your sights towards him.

"You're scaring me a bit. Did something happen, love?"

There is not enough alcohol in your system to make this easier.

"I was talking with Brian and came to some conclusions that have been....cloudy for a little while now."

His eyebrows are furrowed together in concern, he's never seen you like this. Nervous was normal in aspects of your job but like this is completely uncharted territory for him. Not knowing how to tread the waters, he takes the hand that was on your chin and rubs your upper arm. 

"You can talk to me. You know that, right?"

You swallow, feeling like you're nearly choking on air. 

"John I...god..."

Before you could mutter even something resembling a syllable, you hear John's name being called. Turning your head slightly to see it's the woman he was flirting with earlier, danging her bag in front of her.

"Finally remembered where I put the damned thing. You ready to go, Johnny?"

You want to vomit on the spot but knowing if you would, it would be Exorcist levels in the amount purged. Your eyes threaten to release the waterworks and you look up to put the tears back in their place. Beginning to walk away, you feel a grip on your shoulder.

"Sorry but my friend here is going through something. Raincheck, yeah?"

Obviously very annoyed, her eye roll was puntuated with her heels clicking away. He looks over at you and immediately notices tears running down your cheeks. Wiping them away, he leads you out of this area of the hotel and back to his room. Turning the key, your heart beats to the point where it leaves you breathless. He leads you inside and onto the bed but before you get to talk, he doesn't sit quite yet. Grabbing the unwrapped toilet paper roll from the bathroom, he hands it to you then sits down at your side. 

"What's going on, Y/N?"

As he rubs your arm again like he did in the hallway, your brain struggles but comes up with some sort of coherent sentence to present.

"I think Tom and I might be over."

He blinks at you, much in the same fashion as Brian had. But before you knew it, he wrapped you in a hug. His head on your shoulders and hand smoothing over your back. He says your name softly followed by an 'I'm so sorry'. Staying like until the tears stop flowing, he peels away from you. You wipe away your tears, noticing your mascara has somehow held up. 

"I...I don't mean to pry but, well, what happened?"

The question you were dreading but this band-aid needs to be ripped off.

"I realized we've sort of...grown apart. Also..damn, not again.." as you rip off a piece of toilet paper and dab your eyes. Catching your breath took a minute but you finally get their in due time. With a sigh, you finally let it out.

"I've developed feelings for another person."

Watching him with blurry eyes didn't give you the opportunity to see his shoulders drop slightly or lips tighten.

"They're incredibly lucky to have caught your attention, Y/N."

"I think I'm lucky to have met them is a better statement. He's really great."

You sigh again and finally clear your vision. His expression is hard to read. Almost, seeming disappointed but that's probably your imagination trying to cope with rejection. Rejection that hasn't happened yet.

"I'm sure he is."

He moves away from you and grabs the television remote, flipping through channels until one catches his eye. Sitting back beside you, he looks back at you.

"Sorry, felt like background noise might've been welcome."

"Maybe a bit, yeah. Do you want to hear about him?"

"Am I going to have a choice in the matter? You're destined to bring him up."

"Guess you're right. But you're...already quite familiar with him already."

"It's not Brian, is it? I know you two talk or maybe.." This time putting in air quotes around "Talk". 

This time it's your turn to be stunned.

"No! I asked him advice about this guy. So, well...he's a bass player for a pretty well known group, I'm a pretty big fan of his work and writes some absolutely amazing tracks. Some may say he's had some questionable hair choices but I'm a big fan. Also he has these...gorgeous green eyes."

"Is it Paul McCartney?! I know you met him during Live Aid but damn, Y/N. Linda would kick your ass."

"It's not Paul McCartney you dumbass!"

A laugh erupts from you, making him laugh along with you. He dodges the slap on his arm but moving up the bed, sitting up against the headboard. You mirror him, eyes on the television screen. A comfortable silence washes over the room, the soft hum of the air conditioner adds background noise with the show playing before you. Seconds turn into minutes. Minutes turn into almost an hour of contemplation. Should you say something? You've grown close to him this past year, even closer this past month. He's one of your few confidants, a dear source of comfort. Possibly never seeing his smile again gives you literal heartbreak. But what if the risk is worth the reward? What if he views you in that way as well and you're just overreacting? Doubtful but not completely out of the realm of possibility.

It's when it turns into an hour and fifteen minutes when John starts yawning. If you wait, you'll never do it. You'll lose all nerve. You mutter a 'fuck it' under your breath.

"It's you."

He slowly turns his head in your direction. 

"What was that? I was zoned out for a while, there."

"The guy I was talking about....it's, well...."

You can do this, you just did it. Come on.

"It's you, John Richard Deacon."

You've never seen someone's eyes go that big in your life. His jaw goes slightly slack as he just looks at you. You see his eyes dart around every point on your face. Before you can even start registering what's happening, His lips assault you. Kisses on your forehead, kisses on your nose, kisses on your cheeks, kisses on your jaw but finally he reaches your lips. One hand laces its fingers in your hair, the other placed just below your jaw. Your breath is completely and utterly taken away and when he pulls away, lips swollen, your chest fills. What fills your heart to capacity is him whispering.

"I've been waiting, Y/N....I've been waiting for that moment when you say the words I couldn't say."

~~~~~~~~~~

May formatting it to be tumblr friendly to read pay off and if you read this, you are a sweet cherub angel and I love you a little bit. Also damn, my first fic published on Tumblr, they grow up so fast. 

[hes-woman]

With All My Heart

*At 2K+ words, this is the longest piece I think I’ve ever written, and possibly my favourite. I was going to hold off on posting until I had something else written, buuuut it’s the last show tonight, and this is based nearly a month ago. So, here’s a huge amount of fluff, from msg night one, which just so happened to also be their anniverary.*

Sat on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the side as they swayed back and forth, Harry could see the whole of the stadium, from the pit a few feet away from his swinging feet to the seats at the very back. It was a stark contrast to the restricted view of the crowd he'd had less than two hours ago, the only evidence of there being people present past the first few rows being the loud cheers that bounced off the walls.  

Looking around the stadium, he felt small. Without the company of his previous bandmates or that of his current band, the space surrounding him seemed so much larger and more intimidating. There wasn't much time to contemplate the size of the stadium when he was performing, too pumped on adrenaline to pay mind to the feeling of apprehension bubbling within him.  

He felt a tad lonely, as well, although he was aware that he was partially to blame for that fact, if not fully. He'd denied your usual post-concert cuddles, that more often than not turned into a pretty heavy make out session. He'd denied the beer offered to him by Adam, along with the invitation of an evening in the bar a few streets away. He'd denied anyone the chance to properly congratulate him before he slipped back onto the stage. He'd denied himself the comfort of another person's company, with the motive of keeping to himself for a while, to clear his head and sit back in a moment of gratitude. 

"Hey, mister, I was beginning to wonder where you'd got to," you called over to him from the side of the stage. You were clad in a merch shirt that was a few sizes too big and displaying ‘6/21 New York’ at the bottom, tucked into a pair of jeans, your hair in a bun and nothing but a pair of socks on your feet, the vans which you'd previously worn hanging off your fingertips.  

His head snapped up to meet yours, a slightly solemn expression on his face until he noticed the way your features were lit up with a grin on your face. A small smile spread across his own face as he gestured for you to join him, laughing as you seemed to trip over everything in your path, which earned him a glare.

"I think everyone's headed back to the hotel now; well, the rest of the band and most of the crew, at least. I think your mum's nearly ready to go, as well. 'M feeling very awake tonight, though, so I was wondering if you fancied going out for a bite to eat?"

He nodded, leaning his head onto your thigh as you rested your hand on his head lightly to stop yourself toppling over from the added pressure. "I'm not surprised you're awake – tossed and turned all night and then slept in until past noon," he snorted, dodging your attempts to swat the back of his head, "But, yeah, I'm up for food. Saw you eyeing up those burgers in the diner across the road from the hotel earlier, s'that what you want?"

"That's a great shout, actually, sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself," you laughed, accepting the hand he offered to help you sit down next to him. You positioned yourself so you were facing him, legs crossed and fiddling with the laces on your feet. "You've been unusually quiet since you came offstage, something troubling you?" The shake of his head you received in response prompted you to continue further, "You don't have to be happy all the time, y'know? Just 'cause you're doing something you enjoy doesn't mean that you're not allowed to feel a bit down sometimes. And, I think you forget that I can see through your façade, H, you're not exactly a very quiet person, usually."

"Just feeling a little overwhelmed," he started, unable to dodge your gaze or questions, "Six years seems like a really long time, but I've experienced things in those six years that most people don't experience in their lifetime. Last time we were here, things were so different. We weren't together, you didn't even come to see me," he paused momentarily when you let out a little scoff of disapproval, "yes, I know, you came to support all of us, but now you're here just for me. And, you're my wife this time, pregnant with my baby, as well. It's strange being back here on my own."

"You've achieved so much in these past six years, and so much hard work has gone into that. Everyone here tonight came for you, you've earned the support of every single one of them. Out in the crowd tonight, the atmosphere was crazy, and I know I'm a little biased but I don't think I've ever been part of such a united group of people. I thought I was proud of you, but I'm no match for your mum, I don't think I've seen her cry so much until tonight," you told him, glad to see the grin had returned to his face, "And I couldn't think of a better way to spend our anniversary than watching you have the time of your life on the stage of probably the most famous arenas."

"I've been a bit of a shitty husband, haven't I? So consumed with nerves and adrenaline that I've barely even paid any attention to you," he frowned, an exaggerated pout on his lips as he pulled you onto his lap, adjusting your knees so they rested either side of his body, "Just been a bit of an idiot and come and sulked out here, when we should be out celebrating."

"Don't be silly, I don't need anything fancy. I'm happy just going out for burgers and milkshakes, and then having a nice long bath when we get back to the hotel."  

"Now, that, I can do. Might have to stop in a shop somewhere and get some bubble bath and stuff. Feel like we should definitely be doing something more special for our five-year anniversary, though, or our first wedding anniversary, whichever way you want to see it."

"We can always go out tomorrow, or even the day after. Properly celebrate you performing here for two nights, as well as our anniversary. Then I'll have your full attention; can't be having you drifting off into your own thoughts every ten minutes," you teased, twirling the small curls at the nape of his neck in your fingers.

"I missed you tonight, y'know? I very much enjoyed our early afternoon cuddles, feel like I haven't seen you since, though," he grumbled, arms firmly wrapping around your back as he pulled you closer to him. He left minimum space in between the two of you, your chest, covered with a t-shirt presenting an enlarged picture of his face on it, pressed tightly to his.  

"I'm not the one who disappeared for nearly an hour," you pointed out, peppering kisses along the expanse of his neck as you rested your cheek on his shoulder. You ignored the slight aftertaste of salt that came with it, evidence of the sweat that once beaded on his skin. "You took away my opportunity to appreciate these bell-bottoms of yours. Never thought I could find someone wearing such things so hot, but you always manage to surprise me."

A small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth at your declaration; your fingers pulled at the bow hanging on his chest, diverting your gaze from his. He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, using his nose to nudge your face upwards as he nibbled playfully at your jaw. You turned to face him again, your scrunched nose acting as a silent reprimand of leaving marks in obvious places. Lifting your hand to push him away, you were met with his tongue licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand, your instincts kicking in and causing you to jerk your hand away, wiping the sticky residue on the shoulder of his shirt.  

"Sorry, baby," he laughed, lips pressing to yours in a half-arsed attempt to stop you narrowing your eyes at him, ending in teeth bashing together due to his inability to stop laughing. He pulled at your jutted-out bottom lip with his thumb, simultaneously giving you the biggest grin possible, "Stop frowning at me. Can't have anyone be seeing that and thinking I make you angry on our anniversary."

"Stop licking me then," you protested, but let him wrap his arms back around you, "And I'm surprised you haven't given me a nosebleed with how hard you knocked into me, give me some warning next time, yeah?"

"What would be the fun in that?" He teased, thumbs sliding into the waistband of your jeans, "I'm really glad you're here with me; I get lonely when you're not. I had a whole speech planned out when I got home from the last leg, full of hundreds of reasons why you should join me on this one, must have rehearsed it in my head at least fifty times on the plane home. I think Jeffrey was beginning to get annoyed with me, kept going on about how I'd forced him to get on a plane he hadn't wanted to and then wouldn't speak to him. You have no idea how glad I was when you said you were coming with me – I don't know if I could've built up the courage to ask you to drop everything for me again, especially after the argument that followed the last time we had a conversation along those lines."

You stretched your arm out over his shoulder, leaning your head on the inside of your bicep and straightening your legs as you began to feel a gentle ache spreading in your limbs but not wanting to interrupt what he was saying. You were pretty content to just sit there and listen to the low tone of his voice, appreciative of the up-close angle you received. From where you were, you could clearly see the slight stubble present just above his cupid's bow, and the strands of hair which refused to co-operate with the rest. It amazed you how, even from this close, it was near impossible to pin-point any kind of flaw or imperfection. 

His line of view met yours in an intense adoration, almost as if his gaze was burning into your own, implanting the thoughts and feelings currently circulating in his head into your mind. His eyes never left yours, yet he was oblivious to your not-so-subtle scope of his face.

"I think some of my favourite memories of us come from being in a foreign country. Exploring new places we've never seen before, getting lost more often than not; sitting in small restaurants on beachfronts and tasting local cuisine, always being sure to finish every last bite even if it's not to our personal taste; travelling from country to country with nothing but each other and a book or two to entertain ourselves. I couldn't think of anyone better to travel the world with than my best friend, wife, mother of my child, the face in the crowd I look for to keep me firmly placed on the ground, and that's just the beginning of a long list of titles you hold. I'm so excited for us to feel our way through the next chapter of our lives together, but I'm glad we've had this time with each other, along with the next month or so to come, away from our more structured life, to properly soak up the time we have left of just being us. Harry and Y/N. Husband and Wife. If I could, I'd get married to you all over again, without hesitation, 'cause our wedding day was by far the best day of my life to date. Not even performing in stadiums like these could even come close to taking that spot. Happy anniversary, I love you, with all my heart, and don't you ever forget that."

Tears welled in your eyes as you listened to the words he spoke, ones which held so much love and emotion that it was as if they sent out waves of infatuation and intimacy. Moisture gathered on your cheeks, which Harry was quick to brush away with the soft swipe of his thumb. The lump in your throat was too immense, and the tightening of your chest was too great, for you to muster up the courage to utter a response, lacking trust towards how coherent of a reply your mouth would produce, instead settling for attaching your lips to his in a desperate, breath-taking reciprocation of affection. You pulled back, foreheads connecting as you both attempted to regain composure over your breathing.  

"You're too good with words, H. Makes my heart hurt."