I Really Like This.

I really like this.

could you write something about harry flirting with y/n whose a fan during one of his shows. like maybe she had a sign that caught his attention (like a pick up line or a joke) and then for the rest of the concert he kept staring at her and making little jokes/comments to her.

mint to be

wc: 2.6k

warnings: mild language and really cheesy jokes.

pairing: harry styles x female reader

today is the day.

finally, you’re going to see him.

it won’t be like the pictures viewed from the bright screen of your phone, it’s going to be in person.

you never wake up this early for anything- unless their name begins with harry and ends in styles. it’s exactly 4 am on the dot when you roll up to the venue and the bags under your eyes can prove it.

lining up was a confusing but once the workers started to hand out the wristbands it began to make more sense. according to the first people lined up everyone got a number, and thankfully you got a pretty good one.

once you got back to the hotel, you made sure to take a nap beforehand since it’s going to be a long night. the alarm you set wakes wake you up just in time to be able to get readying eat something without rushing. you shuffle your playlist named ‘my faves’ as you start doing your makeup.

canyon moon begins to play.

your nerves bubble with excitement, and a wide smile breaks out on your face. you truly can’t believe in a mere four hours you’ll be seeing the harry styles sing live tonight.

the outfit you elaborately picked out consists of a matching lilac trouser and blazer set with a matching lace bodysuit peeking out from underneath. you also couldn’t forget the iconic feather boa trend. the black feathery fabric hangs from the back of your neck and softly covers your décolletage. you tug your white hightop converse on your feet (such a y/n thing to do) knowing you wouldn’t survive the night in heels. especially in the pit.

the way you did your makeup makes you skin dewy and glow- the rhinestones that are glued onto your lower lash line shimmer. everything is going according to plan, and you look pretty hot- you can’t lie to yourself.

thankfully, you packed your bag yesterday. hand sanitizer, a few disposable masks, some feminine products, money, gum. anything that would be helpful for you or others around you.

and finally, your sign. not too big that it’ll cover other peoples view from behind you and not too small harry wouldn’t be able to read it.

it was something so cheesy. hopefully he will get a kick out of it and other people will too. you smile as you tuck it under your arm and walk outside to your car.

once the parking is paid for, you line up with the wristband sitting heavily on your wrist.

“this will stay on me until i die.” you think to yourself with a soft laugh.

some other fans in line make small talk with you, which you’re grateful for since you’re by yourself in a city you’re unfamiliar with.

finally, the general admission line begins to move. slowly but surely. the employees in the front are checking for your vaccination status or negative covid test. you get your information ready so you’re not fumbling around for it.

they briefly look over it before scanning the ticket your phone and looking at your wristband. quickly, they send you on your way to follow the rest of the long line down to the pit.

the arena is huge. you stare up at the ceiling, the eight ginormous screens hanging from the ceiling face the crowd in all directions. paranoid thoughts wander into your mind, “oh god, what if they fall?” but you knew they had to be secure.

the line stops as another venue employee directs people into their spots. they point to the barricade for everyone to line up.

no way. you’re getting barricade. your hand grips the metal so tight that your knuckles turn white. obviously, you were going to get it because you have lane one tickets and you woke up so fucking early, but reality is setting in and you’re so nervous.

the venue begins filling up pretty quickly, you watch people scramble into their seats from lower bowl all the way to the nosebleeds. jenny lewis plays a few songs before she tangos with a person dressed as a dog off the stage.

the music starts to play. it’s like a giant room full of old and new friends. everyone sings along to david bowie, olivia by one direction, bohemian rhapsody, and countless of other classic songs on the playlist harry must’ve curated.

the energy is so positive, everyone is so happy to be here. you couldn’t be more excited.

the iconic, but nerve wracking guitar strings begin to strum loudly over your head; sweet thang by shuggie otis.

the whole room roars with screams as the lights dim. spotlights fly around, almost blinding you as it hits a certain angle toward your face.

no way. no way. no fucking way. the band is walking on stage.

your eyes widen as this moment truly sets in. niji, sarah, ny oh, elin, pauli, and last but not least mitchell rowland.

golden starts briefly. the bunnies flash on the screen. you scream so loud and jump along with the people beside you.

“to do a dull thing with style is preferable to doing a dangerous thing without it.”

the girl next to you is completely sobbing, her tears soaking her mask, practically drowning herself with the wet fabric.

the chime starts again and the bunnies flash.

“to do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art.”

your eyes dart around as you struggle to hear what the man is saying next.

suddenly you see something rising from the center of the stage. the screams become louder than ever.

“oh my god!” you exclaim so loud as his fluffy brown head of hair is highlighted by a spotlight.

the girl next to you grips your arm out of pure excitement and you grab her hand for moral support. “oh my god! it’s really him!” you screech as he starts to sing along to golden. “i know! oh my god! it’s him!” she repeats over a few times.

you jump in unison with the people around you, screaming and throwing your hands in the air. he smiles as his eyes dart around, his lips pressing into his microphone. you can see his dimples from where you’re at.

he sings through golden as he walks around the stage, waving to fans and completely making everyone lose their sanity.

the song ends and he transitions into carolina.

this can’t be real.

as you dance like no one is watching, you raise and wave your hands as he comes around to your side of the stage.

shit, the sign!

you quickly pick it up to raise it in the air, his eyes immediately catch it. his eyebrows knit together in the middle, and he chuckles during his line and shakes his head. harry LAUGHED at your sign.

he finishes his verse, the music still playing behind him. “i’ll be back.” he says to you, loud enough so you could barely hear his voice over the music.

shock runs through your veins and you nod your head vigorously at him. he continues to dance and perform around the diamond shaped stage.

you let the sign hang over the front of the barricade so it wouldn’t get stomped on, one hand holds it in place as the other pumps your fist into the air while you dance.

he skips around the stage, blowing kisses to people and then carolina ends.

“thank you so much! our job for the next ninety-something minutes is to entertain you. i promise i will do my very best, but you also have one job and that is to have as much fun as you possibly can have.“ he continues his speech, but it’s so hard to hear over the screams.

he makes his way with his mic to your side of the stage again, “but before we continue, i would love to acknowledge this sign.” he stops in front of you, and your whole body heats up. “may i read it?”

“yes!” you shout at him and nod again to make sure he knows it’s okay.

he chuckles again as he raises the mic to his mouth, his laugh reverberates throughout the whole venue. he shakes his head as he rests his hand on his hip, “if you were a vegetable, you’d be a ‘cute-cumber’.” the crowd screams and laughs along with him.

you can’t help but laugh too, realizing how bad it really is. “wow that’s bad. that’s a real bugger.” he laughs again, making everyone scream.

“but i like it. thank you. what’s your name?” he bows his head toward you, his infamous smirk curving its way onto his lips. “y/n!” you scream out.

it seems as if he’s about to walk away, but he slyly turns around to face you again, “then y/n, you must be a banana, because i find you very a-peeling.” he winks in your direction, making all the air seize in your lungs. he walks away from your side of the stage with a cocky grin on his face.

the person behind you grips your shoulders as you stare up at harry. “oh my god.” you wheeze out in astonishment. the people around you are shouting in your face. you’re hoping someone got it on camera.

adore you then picks up right after that, he does his little shimmy right in front of you. is he favoring this side of the stage?

his eyes catch yours again, a small subtle smile forms on his lips as he sings. a rush of confidence burns through you as you blow him a kiss.

his eyes widen with theatrical surprise as he grabs the kiss from the air and shoves it in his back pocket. this man is going to be the death of you.

you watch as he glides from one side of the catwalk all the way down to the other side. you can’t help but feel crazy as he continuously glances at you while he’s running around.

then you see anthony pham, he’s clicking away as he’s taking pictures of harry in action. the photographer stops in front of you as harry comes around to your side once more, singing directly to you, or maybe he’s singing to anthony. it feels like the few seconds of him singing is passing by in slow motion.

everyone around you has their phone up, videoing and taking pictures of the scene unfolding in front of you. there is no way you’d hold up your phone and let it ruin this moment. you’ll be able to rewatch it somewhere tonight.

everything is so real about him. the green in eyes, the way his cheeks are flushed pink, the little brown curl hanging in his eyes as he bends slightly at the waist toward the pit.

then suddenly, he’s gone once again as he happily skips around the stage to entertain the rest of his fans.

you let out a breath you weren’t aware of holding. the people around you are screaming in disbelief,

“i can’t believe he just did that!”

“you are so lucky!”

“holy f&$!ing sh*t!”

harry must’ve known he stirred everyone up with his little charming display for you. throughout the concert, he innocently glances over at you but hasn’t interacted with you in a while. you can’t help but feel a bit bummed. even though you know you shouldn’t since you just had the best experience of your life.

the concert passes by so quickly, almost like every song is two seconds long. you beam at the angelic man singing on the stage.

the way he bounces around like he drank five energy drinks before performing makes you smile.

he speeds through the songs on his album, as well as the banana song and takes a break to go under the stage.

you make sure to record and snap pictures whenever he’s close to your side again. you hope you caught a picture of him staring at you again. just so you can reminisce later on, and also for bragging rights (and probably for your lock screen too).

during watermelon sugar, he jogs up to your side of the stage again. it makes your heart skip a beat as he stops at the mic stand directly in front of you.

he looks out into the crowd, waving as he sings and smiling. he’s so happy. his eyes follow the crowd in the pit down to you in the front, his hand reaches out to wiggle his fingers to wave.

you can’t help but grin so wide. he can’t see your smile from behind your mask but he can read your eyes.

your hand reaches out toward his, knowing it won’t reach but it’s the thought that counts.

the shutters of a camera catch your attention as you whip your head toward the sound. anthony pham back at it once again. this time with a mischievous smile on his face. you wonder if this moment will be posted on his social media later.

the rest of the concert flashes by and soon it’s time to say goodbye. before the last few songs, harry says his long speech about how grateful he is and how he loves to perform for his fans.

you can’t help but let your eyes fill up with tears from how proud you are of him. you practically grew up with him, following him since his early one direction days.

the insanity of kiwi begins. the flashing white and red lights and the amount of people jumping in the stadium makes the floor shake.

an insane idea pops into your head as you push your way out of the crowd to the back of the pit. you grip your sign as you weave and bob through the scattered people.

you watch as he does a smooth spin and then runs down the catwalk waving goodbye to everyone and blowing kisses. he trots down the stairs toward his bodyguards below, swiftly grabbing his black mask to put on his face and then running with them to the exit.

you grip the metal barrier that separates you from walking backstage with him.

he catches your eyes one last time as he runs past, then screeches to a halt in the hallway leading to the VIP area, almost getting toppled over by the large men around him. he reaches into his back pocket to grab your invisible kiss and press it to his cheek with a cheeky grin.

“you’re going to give me a heart attack, harry!” you scream so loud that your voice cracks.

he just chuckles and shakes his head, “i’m sorry!” he shouts back with a shrug as he jogs backward before spinning back around and disappearing down the corridor.

the band quickly exits a few minutes after him and some fans are already leaving to make sure they beat traffic.

your sign hangs limply in your hand, pure exhaustion is finally hitting you as you slump to the feather ridden sticky floor. all this preparation and it felt like it was over in a few minutes.

“psst.” something sounds from above your head. you let your head fall back to look up.

the photographer again? “hey. do you mind standing up for me really quick?”

you slowly rise to your feet, gripping the rail tightly so your wobbly legs wouldn’t give out.

anthony hands you a sharpie, “write your number on your sign and give it to me.”

your eyes widen like a deer in headlights. you go completely still. “what? why?” you question, but you've already turned your sign over and began to scribble it down.

“just for business purposes.” but there’s a hidden sound in his voice. almost sarcasm or a stretch of the truth.

you hand over the sign with a confused look, but before you could say anything else he thanks you and jogs backstage with everyone else. what just happened?

before you could ponder on that thought some more, you force your body to gain enough energy to shuffle out to your car, the feeling of cool night air on your face makes you feel a little bit more awake. you shuffle your sad music playlist as you drive back to the hotel, knowing you’re going to crash as soon as you make it through the door.

the soft bed envelopes your worn out body and you blindly reach for your makeup wipes on the nightstand. suddenly, a ding sounds from your phone and you wildly scramble for the device plugged into the wall.

it’s an unsaved number. is it anthony, maybe? your thumb swipes up on your screen to unlock it, typing in your passcode faster than you ever had before. your heart drops into your stomach, your gut wrenches and twists from the familiar writing. 

unknown sender: Hi, guess who.

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A/N: hi!! hope you liked this bc i honestly really enjoyed writing it. sorry for the little cliff hanger, just let your mind wander a bit heheh.