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luveline · 4 months

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(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.

“I wanna see Max.”

“She has to be here somewhere.”

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.

Steve frowns at you worriedly.

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.

“Is it awful?” you ask.

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.

“Dustin. He’s outside.”

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?”

“Like you like him.”

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.

“Looks like something. Are you dating?”

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”

“He was touching you a lot.”

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.

Oh, boy, you think.

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”

“Steve.”

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.

“What?” he asks.

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”

“I sounded weird?”

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.

“You were in the way of the light.”

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.

“It’s good.”

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.”

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”

“I thought…” And of course he did.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.

“Yeah.”

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.

“I like you too!” he says loudly.

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.

“You okay?” he asks tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”

You nod vehemently.

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.

“You can be my parasol.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a sun umbrella.”

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.

“No… I’m thinking.”

“Nothing good ever comes of that.”

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.

“It’s a question.”

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke.

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble

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meiko333 · 1 year

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#resident evil #resident evil: death island #jill #jill valentine #claire #claire redfield #jill x claire #claire x jill #clairejill #valenfield #red valentine #lesbian #bisexual #headcanon #sparkly #glitter #icons #square icons #icons by me

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agentstarkid · 7 days

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YOU'RE JUST LIKE MARS, YOU SHINE IN THE SKY ✦ CL16

✦ pairing: charles leclerc x reader ✦ words: 2.4K ✦ warnings: female!reader, fluff. ✦ may's radio: my hands were shaking so much that they slipped and this got written :)) <3

The roar of engines reverberated through the narrow streets of Monaco, the glistening harbor contrasting with the vibrant red of the Ferrari garage. I stood amidst the controlled chaos, the scent of burning rubber and fuel heavy in the air. Charles' family was beside me, their faces a mixture of tension and pride, reflecting my own swirling emotions.

In my hand, I clutched a small bracelet, its delicate threads intertwined with colors representing our journey together. Charles and I had made it during a quiet evening in Maranello, each bead and knot a silent promise of our shared dreams and love. I rubbed the beads with my thumb, seeking solace in their familiarity as the final laps of the Monaco Grand Prix unfolded on the screens before us.

Charles was in the lead. I could see his car darting through the tight corners, threading the needle between the unforgiving barriers. The commentators' voices were a distant hum, my focus solely on the scarlet blur of his Ferrari.

“He's doing great,” Pascale whispered, her voice tight with barely contained excitement.

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from the monitor. My heart pounded in time with the relentless rhythm of the cars on the track. Each second stretched into an eternity, every corner a potential triumph or disaster.

With just a few laps to go, the tension in the garage was palpable. I could see the mechanics poised for celebration or action, their faces masks of concentration. The bracelet's colors shimmered softly, a small but powerful reminder of the man I loved and the journey that had brought us to this moment.

The final lap began. Charles' car streaked past the iconic Casino Square, down towards the tight hairpin at Fairmont, and into the tunnel where the roar of the engine amplified tenfold. My grip on the bracelet tightened and all around, the horns of the yachts in the harbor were already blaring in celebration.

"C’mon, mia stella," I whispered, as if my voice could reach him through the cacophony of the race.

Through the chicane and into the swimming pool complex, his car danced on the edge of control, the very limits of physics and skill. The crowd's roar was a constant backdrop, a wave of noise that crescendoed as he approached the final corners.

Then, in a blur of red and precision, he rounded Rascasse and Anthony Noghes. The checkered flag waved, and Charles' car crossed the finish line.

“C'é l'ha fatta!” someone shouted, the garage erupting into cheers and applause. He did it.

Tears of joy sprang to my eyes as I watched Charles slow down for the victory lap, the realization sinking in. He had won. In Monaco. His home race.

Monaco has finally loved him back.

It was a colossal victory for Il sole di Maranello, Il Predestinato, Il Principe Rosso,

The brightest star in my night sky.

The screen cut to his in-car camera, showing his triumphant fist pump and the liberating scream he let out. My heart swelled with pride and love.

As the celebrations commenced around me, I felt a strong arm wrap around my shoulders. Charles' mother pulled me into a hug, her eyes glistening with tears.

“He's done it,” she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

We all moved towards the pit lane to greet him, the crowd's energy sweeping us along. The bracelet dangled from my wrist, a symbol of our bond and the incredible moment we were now living.

Charles pulled into the Parc Fermé, and as he climbed out of the car, he immediately jumped onto the nose of his Ferrari. He threw his arms up in victory, letting out a boisterous scream full of raw emotion, the sound echoing through the throng of fans and team members. The crowd's cheers reached a fever pitch, their collective joy merging with his triumphant cry.

He then jumped down, his feet hitting the ground with a determined thud. Amidst the jubilant chaos, his eyes scanned the sea of faces until they found mine surrounded by a sea of red uniforms and jubilant faces. He pushed through the crowd, making his way to me.

“Amore mio!” he exclaimed, lifting me off my feet and spinning me around.

“You did it, Charles! You won!” I laughed through my tears, my hands framing his helmet.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers brushed against the bracelet on my wrist, I could see a hint of a knowing smile spreading across his face. “This is also for us.”

In that moment, surrounded by the cheers of the team and the adoring fans, it was just the two of us. The handmade bracelet, the race, and our love intertwined into a perfect, unforgettable moment.

The jubilation in the Ferrari crowd was palpable, the energy electric as the team celebrated Charles' monumental win. Mechanics, engineers, and staff swarmed him, lifting him up and congratulating him, hugging him and tapping the top of his helmet, their faces glowing with pride and admiration. Fred approached with a broad smile, clapping Charles on the shoulder and embracing him in a vigorous hug.

Next came Carlos, grinning from ear to ear, pulling into a brotherly embrace. "Amazing job out there, mate! You deserve this one."

"Thanks, Carlos," Charles said, hugging him tighter. "We did it together."

John Elkann, Ferrari’s chairman, stepped forward, his demeanor exuberant and congratulatory. "Charles, you've made Ferrari and all of Monaco incredibly proud today. Congratulations!"

Charles nodded, his gratitude evident. "Thank you, Mr. Elkann. This victory is for the team, for all of us."

With the formalities complete, Charles turned to the crowd. He moved towards the barriers, where the sea of red-clad fans erupted into deafening cheers, their love and admiration washing over him like a wave. He basked in the adulation, lifting his arms to acknowledge the fans who had supported him through thick and thin.

He spotted Andrea waiting by the edge of the crowd. The Italian had been with him through countless highs and lows, a steady presence in his life. Charles embraced him tightly, their bond evident in the heartfelt hug.

“You did it, Charles. I'm so proud of you,” Andrea said, his voice choked with emotion.

“Couldn't have done it without you, Andrea,” Charles replied, pulling back to look his friend in the eye.

Andrea handed Charles his jewelry and the other handmade bracelet, the one that perfectly complemented the one I wore. A significant piece that he entrusts to his friend every race. Charles took the items, his eyes briefly meeting Andrea's in silent gratitude before he turned back to the crowd. He moved to the front of the sign indicating his 1st place finish, ready to be interviewed by Jenson Button for the post-race interview.

The crowd's roar never dimmed, their adoration a constant backdrop. I watched him, my heart swelling with love and pride, as he fought back tears. Charles took a moment to gather himself, fidgeting with his cap and then with the bracelet. The raw emotion in his voice was palpable as he spoke.

“It means a lot obviously,” Charles said, his voice wavering slightly. “This is the race that made me dream of being a Formula One driver one day.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. “I have to say that I was thinking of my dad a lot more than what I do while driving. Obviously he’d given everything for me to be here. It was our dream for me to race and to win here.”

The weight of his words sinking in. The raw emotion in his voice, the tears brimming in his eyes, spoke volumes. This victory was not just a personal triumph but a tribute to his father and their shared dream. I felt tears spill over, my heart swelling with love for the man who had just achieved a lifelong dream, carrying the memory of his father with him every step of the way.

While Charles spoke, I stood beside Pascale and his brothers. My heart ached with a mix of overwhelming pride and sorrow, mirroring the emotions etched on their faces. Pascale had tears running down her cheeks, her expression a blend of grief and pride for her son's achievement.

I reached out and grabbed her hand in mine, squeezing it three times—a silent gesture of support, love, and shared emotion. She squeezed back, her grip firm and reassuring, a small but powerful connection in this deeply poignant moment.

As the interview concluded, the crowd erupted into applause once more. Charles looked over at us, his eyes locking with mine, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The noise, the cameras, the crowd—it all disappeared, leaving just the two of us connected by an unspoken understanding and an unbreakable bond.

He made his way toward us, each step filled with purpose and emotion. When he reached us, he first hugged his mother tightly, their shared tears a silent tribute to the man they both missed so deeply. Then he turned to me, pulling me into his arms, holding me close.

I held him tighter, feeling the weight of the moment. “I'm so proud of you, Charles. Your dad would be too.”

We stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other's embrace, the world around us celebrating his incredible victory. The cheers of the crowd, the flashes of cameras, and the palpable joy of the team enveloped us, but all that mattered was the love and pride we felt for Charles.

Pascale joined our embrace, her tears now mingling with smiles. “He's always with you, Charles. And he's so proud.”

Charles nodded, his eyes glistening. “I feel him here today, maman, more than ever.”

As the celebrations continued, Charles' brothers took turns hugging him, their faces glowing with admiration and joy. He was then quickly rushed into the Driver’s Cooldown Room along with the other podium-finishers.

The crowd's roar never dimmed, their adoration a constant backdrop to the unfolding celebrations. Charles made his way to the podium promptly being showered in overjoyed hugs and words by Monaco’s Royal Family. He took his place on the top, the Monegasque flag wrapped around him like a protective mantle.

The Prince of Monaco, his eyes glistening with emotion, handed Charles his trophy first. Their embrace was heartfelt, filled with warmth and a deep sense of pride. As Charles lifted the trophy high, the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. He turned to the other drivers, congratulating them as they received their trophies, and then Fred accepted the constructor's trophy with a broad smile, lifting it skyward to the adulation of the crowd.

The Monaco anthem began to play, its solemn notes filling the air. Charles stood tall as the anthem resonated deeply, the pride of the nation evident in every note. As the final strains of the Monaco anthem faded, the Italian anthem followed, a tribute to the Ferrari team and their storied legacy.

The sound of both anthems being sung at the top of everyone's lungs was deafening, a beautiful cacophony of national pride and celebration. Tears streamed down faces all around, from the Prince and the royal family to the mechanics, marshalls, and fans. Even the seasoned veterans of the sport were visibly moved, the emotion of the moment overwhelming.

He lifted the trophy high, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. The crowd erupted once more, their cheers echoing through the narrow streets of Monte Carlo. He looked down at me, our eyes locking across the sea of faces. He mouthed the words “I love you,” and I felt the tears spill over again, tears of unadulterated joy and love.

The podium celebration reached its peak and the champagne bottles were uncorked with a resounding pop. Charles, Carlos, and Oscar grabbed their bottles, shaking them vigorously. The crowd's anticipation grew, knowing the champagne shower was about to begin.

Charles stood at the center as Carlos and Oscar turned towards him, their bottles aimed and ready. With a synchronized motion, they sprayed him with champagne, the sparkling liquid raining down on him as he laughed and tried to dodge it.

Fred, ever the spirited team principal, turned his champagne bottle toward Prince Albert. His Serene Highness, caught off guard but clearly delighted, laughed heartily and grabbed a bottle himself. He joined in the festivities, spraying Fred and the other drivers with gusto. The entire podium was a scene of jubilant chaos, the air filled with the scent of champagne and the sound of laughter and cheers.

Charles reveled in the moment, his face beaming with pure happiness as he shared the celebration with his teammates and the Prince. It was a rare and beautiful sight, the convergence of competitive spirit and heartfelt camaraderie.

Finally, the champagne showers subsided, and Charles descended the steps, droplets of champagne glistening on his suit and face. After a while, he made his way back to me, his steps purposeful and his eyes locked on mine. The crowd's cheers still echoed in the background, but all I could focus on was him.

As he reached me, he didn't hesitate. He pulled me into his arms and kissed me deeply, a kiss full of love, joy, and adoration—and even a hint of something more passionate, something more intense.

The kiss was electric, sending shivers down my spine. His lips moved against mine with a fervor that spoke of the countless emotions coursing through him. His hands gripped my waist tightly, pulling me closer as if he never wanted to let go. The world around us blurred, the noise of the celebration fading into the background.

His kiss was hungry and unrestrained, a raw display of the depth of his feelings. It conveyed everything words couldn't—the relief, the triumph, the passion that simmered beneath the surface. My toes curled, and I felt a heady rush as I responded with equal intensity, matching his fervor.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, he rested his forehead against mine. “This is just the beginning,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

I nodded, holding him tight. “I'm with you every step of the way, Charles. Always.”

And in that embrace, surrounded by the love of family, friends, and fans, we knew that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, hand in hand, heart to heart. The journey ahead was filled with promise, and with each other, we could conquer anything.

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harrysfolklore · 11 months

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love on tour memories - blurb

goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. you were bigger than the whole sky 😢 here’s a compilation of love on tour memories, some blurbs are new and some were already posted, i hope you like this trip down memory lane

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

september 4th, 2021 - las vegas, nevada

Feather boas, pink hats and colorful flags all around could only mean one thing.

Harry Styles was finally back on tour.

After a long two year wait, Love On Tour was finally hitting the road, with the first stop being the iconic Las Vegas, Nevada.

You were beyond ecstatic to say the least, being on the road with Harry was your favorite thing to do, and you knew how much he wanted to finally be doing his favorite thing in the world again.

You were roaming around backstage looking for your boyfriend, already wearing your custom red dress that would match Harry's outfit for the night.

"Love! You look stunning," Lambert's voice made you turn your head, "That dress fits you perfectly just like I knew it would." You blushed as you walked together towards where Harry was getting ready with his bandmates in a few minutes.

"You're too nice, Lamby," you smiled at him, "Is he going shirtless like I asked? I couldn't be with him while he was getting ready."

"He is, darling. He said your wish was his command."

You rolled your eyes with affection; and as if on cue, Harry entered the room exuding an aura of confidence and excitement.

He was dying to get on stage.

"Hey, love," he approached you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. "Can you believe it? We're finally here."

You looked at him fondly, your eyes giving away how proud and excited you felt at the moment, "We're finally here," you repeated, "This is going to be the best tour ever."

Harry pressed a quick peck to your lips before turning his attention to the rest of his bandmates, who were gathered in the room.

"Alright, everyone," Harry announced, his voice full of enthusiasm. "This is it, the first night of Love On Tour," Jeff, who just entered the room with the rest of Harry's managers, let out a whistle in excitement. "Let's make it one to remember."

The band hugged quickly before walking down the corridor that would take them to the stage.

You walked by Harry's side, holding his hand and realizing how much you missed the tour life.

"Good luck kiss?" Harry turned to you as you reached what would be his 'soft goods' box for the next months.

"Wouldn't turn it down for the world." You smiled and connected your lips, and just like that he was off to the stage inside a storage box.

For the next two hours, Harry and his bandmates poured their hearts on stage for the first time in two years, and by the end of the night, everyone had the same thought in their minds.

This was going to be a tour to remember.

october 30th, 2021 - new york

Outside of Madison Square Garden, fans were lining up dressed in their costumes of all kind, excited to be part of Harry's fancy dress party to celebrate Halloween.

However, backstage at the arena you were was growing increasingly curious and impatient about Harry's costume choice, since everyone refused to tell you about it.

"I can't take it anymore!" You said, your eyes darting between everyone in the room. "Somebody, please tell me what Harry's going dressed as!"

Jeff chuckled, entertained by your growing desperation to know. "Oh, YN, you're in for a treat. Harry's going all out, you're going to be gagged"

"Come on, you have to give me something!" Your eyes traveled to Lambert, hoping he would crack up and tell you what you desperately wanted to know.

"Nope, and don't give me those eyes. Sue strictly told us to keep it as a surprise."

You rolled your eyes before standing up and walking towards the door. "Well, I guess I'll try to bribe him with a blowie again.

Everyone in the room laughed at your words, and before you could even reach Harry's dressing room you were intercepted by Harry's assistant Luis, who told you that he instructed him to keep you out of the room until he was ready.

You got into your own costume for the night, a fairy dress with wings and a crown, you put extra effort in your makeup adding glitter and some gem stones.

You heard two knocks to your door followed by Jeff's voice "YN, you ready? Harry is and he wants to see you."

"God, why is he being so dramatic about his costume," you opened the door as you spoke and once you were met with Jeff and his costume, you couldn't help but burst out laughing, "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Miss Anna Wintour, the Toms are going like this too," he shrugged and walked towards Harry's dressing room, you following behind, "Come on now, your annoying boyfriend is waiting for you."

"You ready love?" you heard Harry's voice from the other side of the door, not opening yet.

"Come on just come out already! I need to see you!"

And after a few more seconds of mystery, he finally opened the door and you were met with his blue dress and bright red shoes.

He was Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.

"Harry! This is- you look amazing!"

"Really? You like it?" he put his hands on his waist and tilt his head before giving a twirl and making you laugh.

"I love it, but I have one concern, tho."

"And that would be?" he looked at you questioningly.

"That skirt is too short! You're going to flash your bits to everyone!"

"Well, my love," he grabbed the hem of his dress, pulling it up, "That is what the bloomers are for!"

june 18th, 2022 - london, uk

"How do you feel, mate?" Jeff asked Harry as they stood together on the wings of the stage, Mitski was just done with her set and Harry was already on his outfit for the show, minutes away from hitting the stage.

"It's a weird feeling somehow," Harry turned his gaze to his manager and best friend, "I never thought I was going to ever be able to fill this place on my own, you know?"

"And here we are, two sold out shows!" Jeff threw his fist in the air as a sign of celebration and both of them laughed, side hugging as they kept admiring the crowd.

"Are you guys having a sappy sentimental moment without me?" they tuned their heads towards the voice called for them, that belonged to you.

"I was just about to leave, actually, I have to check everything's running smoothly before this one hits the stage," Jeff ruffled Harry's hair for a moment, "You lovebirds enjoy your pre-concert shag, see you out there!"

You and Harry rolled your eyes and shook your heads, all the times you got caught doing your shenanigans before the shows resulting in a constant teasing from your friends.

"So, how do you feel, rockstar?" you asked, getting closer to him and wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You know, Jeff just asked the same thing."

"Okay, no talking, straight to the pre-concert shag I guess!"

Harry laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you looked out at the crowd together.

"I feel great," Harry said, turning his face to the side to lock his eyes with yours, "Being here again and having you by my side is something that I thought would only happen in my dreams, so I feel great my dreams came true again."

"This is a time where I actually feel good saying that I told you so," you smiled softly, "I always knew that you were going to be selling out this places on your own, baby. And I'm so proud of you."

"I know," Harry pecked yours lips for a moment, "And that's the reason why I'm here, because you had never allowed me to doubt myself."

"You're here because you've earned it by working hard and pouring your heart out in everything that you do, there's no one who deserves this as much as you do."

Harry's eyes got watery at your words, and he grabbed youe face to connect your lips, expressing everything he felt at the moment with a kiss.

"10 minutes till show time!" One of the crew members announced, making you break apart.

"Go sing about fruit and joke about dads, rockstar. I love you."

"Love you more, lovey."

And with a final kiss to your lips he was off to perform, ready to charm a crowd of 80,000 people on his own, something that he never though he would achieve.

september 21st, 2022 - new york

Emotions were all over the place at Madison Square Garden’s backstage, the clinking of champagne glasses along with congratulatory speeches were heard all around the room as a way to celebrate the 15 sold out shows at the world’s most famous arena.

The grin on Harry’s face was evident as he thanked everyone who approached him to applaud his milestone, from his friends to the arena’s crew, and holding his own glass of champagne and wearing a small smile, his eyes started wandering around for you.

It was when he reached the now empty pit of the arena when he found you, just a few hours prior, the room was filled with feather boas, glittery hats and more than twenty thousand people who came together to celebrate him. Right now, it was just you and him, looking up at the brand new addition to the arena.

“HARRY STYLES. 15 CONSECUTIVE NIGHTS AT THE GARDEN”

Was what the arena’s brand new banner said, a banner that would permanently stay there, as a reminder of what your boyfriend had achieved.

“You know I wouldn’t have done it without you, right?” he said as he approached you, bringing you closer by wrapping both of his arms around your waist, leaning his chin of your shoulder “All these songs are about you, all of this is because of you, my love.”

You smiled, the feeling of elation increasing at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. Turning around to face him, you placed your hands on his cheeks before you spoke “This is all you, you did this, baby,” you said while looking into his eyes, and the fact that they were glossy and watery told you that he was still very emotional about the night’s events.

“Maybe I inspired you to write the songs, but the words aren’t mine, honey, they’re yours. All the people who filled those seats every night, they were here for you, because you have impacted their lives in ways no one else could. You deserve this, and I’m so proud and happy for you.” You finished, feeling your own eyes getting watery, still holding his face between your hands, and pressing your foreheads together.

“I’m so damn lucky to have you.” Harry chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your jaw and then nuzzle your neck, you put your hand on the back of his neck and caress his hair, letting him embrace you and holding him right back.

“I’m the lucky one, I mean, not everyone can say that their boyfriend has a banner permanently hung up high at Madison Square Garden, right?” you joked, feeling his laugh vibrate against your neck before he pulled his face out of it, looking into your eyes.

“I love you so much, YN.” he said looking right into your eyes, and his expressed what he had just said, you could feel the love radiate from him.

He’s walking joy, walking happiness, walking love

november 5th, 2022 - los angeles

From the moment you were woken up by the sound of Harry's dry coughs, you knew it was going to be a hard day.

Harry had been feeling under the weather the last couple of days, and today he was feeling his worst. As a professional, he pushed through, thinking it was just exhaustion from the intense schedule on tour.

However, as the day progressed, Harry couldn't shake the feeling of sickness off his body. His throat was sore, and his head felt heavy and he could barely sing during soundcheck, making his bandmates and managers worry about his health.

"Baby," you called out for him, caressing his hair softly, "Jeff just texted me that the doctor is here, he's going to check up on you."

Harry didn't verbally reply, he just stood up and kissed your forehead softly before leaving the room, you following close behind.

You knew what he was worried about the most: having to cancel the show.

The doctor examined Harry thoroughly and then delivered the unfortunate news, he had a severe throat infection and singing tonight could worsen it, so he had to cancel his upcoming shows.

He didn't speak, but you knew he was devastated.

After he delivered the news to his fans via an Instagram story, you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his cheek softly before speaking, "You did the right thing, Harry. Your fans love you, and they'll understand that your health comes first," you reassured him.

Jeff and Tommy, who were in the room too, nodded in agreement, "We'll handle the rescheduling and all the logistics. You just focus on resting and getting better," Jeff said, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, "I'm so sorry, mate." and with a final pat to Harry's back, they were out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

"Hey," you grabbed his chin, making him look at you, "Talk to me, love. What are you thinking?"

"I feel terrible, I hate disappointing the fans and I feel like I let everyone down."

You pressed a tender kiss to his temple again before speaking, "Your fans understand that you're human, just like everyone else. You're allowed to prioritize your well-being, and the fans will always be there for you, cheering you on, no matter what."

Harry gave you a tired smile and laid your head against your shoulder, and you felt proud of everything he does, even giving himself a break.

december 4th, 2022 - buenos aires, argentina

“Holy shit! Look at how packed that pit is already.” Harry said as he got a peek of the stadium, it was still early but fans were already inside and waiting for him.

“You know how much your fans here love you, baby. Tonight’s show is going to be crazy.” You rested your chin on his shoulder, looking at the crowd with him.

“It’s going to be one of the best, I can’t fucking wait.” Excitement was evident on his voice and you couldn’t help but melt a bit, the man you love was happy and that made you the happiest as well.

“They scored!” Anthony Pham’s voice made you turn your heads, a bunch of the crew members were watching the Argentina vs Australia match on a small tv, and the screams from the crowd just confirmed that their country had just scored.

“Wait, put the match on the big screens, let’s watch it together with the crowd.” Harry said and guys from the tech crew quickly put the match on the stadium screens, making fans grow excited.

By the end of the match and by a close call, Argentina won and the crowd erupted in cheers and screams, the entire staff celebrating too and hyping the crowd.

“Go celebrate with them baby! Go on!” you urged Harry to go on stage, “You know what? Fuck it!” and he ran to the stage and hyped the crowd, celebrating the victory with them

Argentina gave him one of his best tour memories already and the shows were still yet to happen.

february 20th, 2023 - perth, australia

“How are we feeling in here tonight Perth?” Harry said into the mic, looking out at the crowd cheering and screaming for him, “It’s been about 5 years almost since I last performed in Australia, feels so good to be back.”

The crowd erupted in cheers and screams, and you watched fondly as he moved around the stage.

“YN, my girlfriend, she loves to research each country we visit before the show," Harry pointed out to you and the nerves instantly hit you, despite being with him years, you still weren’t used to the spotlight and the attention. "She told me about some… peculiar traditions you guys do over here, like drinking out of a shoe.” Harry said and the audience went wild along with you, you knew his fans had been trying to get him to do a shoey since the last time he performed in the country and you insisted that he needed to finally do it.

“This is one of the most disgusting traditions I’ve ever heard of,” he paused to shake his head, “Fuck it,” and he proceeded to take his shoe off, making the entire audience roar in cheers.

“Can you do a Shoey with water or is that against the rules? YN?” the camera zoomed into you, putting your face in the big screens across the stadium, you couldn’t help but laugh and yell your responde, “She says no! Okay let’s just get this over with.”

And next thing you knew, Harry was drinking out of his shoe and the entire stadium was erupting in screams.

“I feel like a different person…I feel ashamed of myself. It feels so personal! Such an intimate moment to be shared with so many people!” at this point your belly hurt from how much you were laughing, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as well, “I’ll be discussing this with my therapist at length…at length! And YN, you’re a terrible girlfriend for making me do this!”

Even though you were aware of the cameras catching your every reaction, you rolled your eyes with affection and jokingly flipped him off, making him blow an obnoxious kiss your way.

“Now, who’s ready for more music?”

march 26th, 2023 - tokyo, japan

“Everyone who knows me, knows how incredibly special this country is to me. I came here a few years ago for 5 days, and stayed a LOT longer than 5 days. It was one of the best things that ever happened to me in my whole life.” Harry said, looking out at the crowd in complete awe, “I’ve always felt that my time in here in Japan was incredibly special to me & I would not be able to make those 2 albums if it wasn’t for that time. So thank you the people of Japan for whatever it was that you gave to me. I will love you for it forever”

You couldn't help but shed a few tears, adoration running through your veins for the man who was currently closing up one of the most special legs of his world tour.

"However, unlike the last time I came here, I'm not on my own this time, I'm here with this incredible band who gives me the honor to play with them every night, the amazing crew who makes every show possible, and most importantly," he put a hand to his heart before continuing, "I'm here with the gorgeous woman I get to call my girlfriend, and I feel like the luckiest man in the world for that."

It was safe to say that you were full on crying by now, aware of fans and cameras catching your every move but not ashamed to be vulnerable because of the man you loved.

Harry turned to look at you on the side of the stage before speaking again, "I love you so much, baby, thank you for being my muse and my best friend, none of this would be possible without you."

And as if it was the first sentence you ever learned, you instantly mouthed and "I love you to Harry, making him grin and blush before speaking into the mic again.

"Thank you, Japan! I love you."

june 10th, 2023 - slane, ireland

Today was a day for the history books. Harry was going to make history as the first artist to ever perform in the iconic Slane Castle as a main performer for his own tour since 1985.

He brought up that he was offered the chance while you were snuggled in bed, listening to soft music that played from Harry’s record player.

“They offered me to perform at Slane Castle. You know, that venue where the only way to perform is if you get invited by Lord Henry.” Harry said casually as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Baby! That’s amazing!” you said in a cheerful tone, but the way Harry pursed his lips made you guess what was going on in his mind, “Don’t tell me you’re second guessing this, it’s a great opportunity.”

“I know, I know,” he said, pecking your forehead softly before continuing, “But everything’s pretty intimidating, there’s a lot to live up to.”

“And you will absolutely crush it. So call Jeffrey right now and tell him to book the gig.”

And so he did. And now, you were leaning on his dressing room’s vanity table, watching as he got ready for one of the biggest nights of this career.

“How do you feel?” you asked softly, you knew that his nerves always kicked in during this time.

“Nervous, happy, excited,” he turned to you, giving you a soft smile and tender eyes, “I just want this to be a memorable show, I don’t want anyone to leave the venue feeling like the show wasn’t good enough.”

“Everything’s going to be fine, gorgeous,” he smiled at the pet name, one of his favorites that you use for him, “Every single show that you’ve done ever since you were sixteen has been absolutely incredible, this one won’t be the exception.”

And instead of giving you a verbal reply, he crashed his lips into yours, pouring all of his feelings in a kiss.

“Hershel, time to hit the stage!” you were interrupted by Jeff knocking on the door.

“Oh cut it out, Jeffrey. We’re in the middle of my pre show shag.” Harry joked, making you throw your head back in laughter.

“You have two minutes, you menaces.” Jeff timed his eyes, already used to your shenanigans.

Your laughs died down and you looked directly into his eyes, caressing the hair at the base of his neck before speaking, “You’re going to deliver an amazing show, okay?” Harry only nodded, letting you continue, “You don’t have to meet anyone’s expectations, you just need to be your loving carefree self and everyone will have the best night of their lives.”

He pecked your lips before speaking, “Thank your for that, and for just being you, honestly,” he shook his head for a moment, “I wouldn’t have the courage to go out on stage every night if it wasn’t for you.”

“You would. Because you were born for this. Now go make me proud, rockstar.”

And with a final kiss to your lips, he was off with his band, ready to hit the stage of one of the most important nights of his career.

july 22nd, 2023 - reggio emilia, italy

The time had come to say goodbye to Love On Tour.

Surrounded by Harry's family and friends, you stood in the VIP area of the field watching Harry perform the last show of his biggest tour.

The night had been incredible so far, Harry pour his heart out performing just like he had been doing for the last two years, making the show extra special by adding new songs to the setlist and letting the crowd know how thankful he has for everything given to him.

"I will remember this evening and all of this for the rest of my life. Thank you for letting me be a part of this, thank you for dedicating your time to me, thank you for listening to me. Thank you for being amazing. Thank you for everything." Harry said into the mic, beginning with his final speech, one you knew would make you tear up.

"I have people here tonight who have supported me in so many ways over the past 13 years in which you can only imagine. I would not be on this stage without them and their love and support. My family are here tonight, my friends are here tonight," Harry's voice cracked up and his eyes got teary, making everyone in the crowd tear up along with him, "I was doing so well! Thank you for the support, thank you loving me for the way that you have. My friends are here tonight, thank you for having my back, always. I love you all so much. Thank you. I have a lot of things to feel incredibly lucky for in life but i feel the luckiest with my friends support. It allows me to do this. I am so full right now, I've never been happier in my entire life."

You held Anne's hand as you listened to his speech, both of you growing emotional at his words, just as the nearly 100,000 fans in the crowd.

"My girlfriend and life partner is here tonight, just like she was for all 169 previous nights, and all the most important moments of the last 13 years," eyes turned to you, but your attention was only on the man on stage, the one you loved, "I've said it countless of times before, but none of this would be possible without you. You're my best friend, my muse and my biggest supporter. Thank you for loving me, and giving me a love to write about. I love you."

You mouthed an "I love you" back to him, wiping some tears that kept falling from your eyes.

"Secondly, to you all," he turned to face his band, "Thank you so much for doing this with me, that you trust me, thank you for giving your time, your energy. This show is what it is because of everything you've done every night."

He continued his speech, thanking the fans for the same space they created over the years, and giving him the opportunity to be on stage every night doing what he loves the most.

After a 10 minute ballad written specially for the night, Love On Tour was officially over. But the memories created around it would last a lifetime.

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