Live From New York
Summary: Harry's on SNL and he gets a little jealous when he thinks you're not there for him.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1313
A/N: Super silly blurb from 2017 after Harry was on SNL. This was a request (some requests were oddly specific back then lol) that you have a bit of a crush on Colin Jost and Michael Che. It also helps that you know a couple of Rolling Stones songs that are mentioned at the end.
We gotta get away from here...
Harry's lyrics were still ringing in your ears as you watched the stage being set up for the next skit. Your stomach flipped when you realized it was going to be the Weekend Update segment. You liked this skit in particular, having always had a little secret crush on Colin Jost and Michael Che. Perhaps it was their humor, and the way they would sometimes roast each other that got your juices flowing, but they always managed to crack you up.
"Hey, come with me," you heard to your left.
You turned your head in time to see Harry walking toward the dressing room. Hesitantly, you followed him, quickly returning your focus to the monitor set up on the wall.
"Sit with me for a minute," he requested, beckoning you to the sofa where he sat.
Smiling, you did what he asked, taking his hand. "You were great."
"Yeah?" he grinned.
"Mmm hmm," you nodded. "I especially liked seeing you in that white Mick Jagger suit."
Harry chuckled. "Maybe I should add one to my wardrobe."
You scooted closer to him, hiking up your leg to lightly brush against his.
"I wouldn't be against it."
Just as Harry leaned in for a kiss, your peripheral vision caught sight of Colin and Michael on the screen.
"Oh!" you squeaked. "This is my favorite!"
"Um...alright," Harry paused as you sat up.
You thought he might've mumbled something under his breath, but then someone else entered the room to tell him to get ready for the next skit. He rose from the couch as you continued to watch the segment, giggling at everything the two comedians said. When it was over, you noticed Harry had left the room. You felt a little guilty, knowing this was his special night and you'd been ogling over two other men. Determined you find him to wish him luck on his next skit, you opened the dressing room door. Just as you stepped out, Colin and Michael were walking down the hall.
"Oh my god, you guys...I love you, you're amazing!" you exclaimed, the word vomit escaping your throat before you had a chance to stop it.
The two men stopped to thank you, and you chatted for longer than you'd expected. So long, in fact, that you missed Harry's next skit. He was just walking off the stage when you caught up to him.
"That was great," you lied, though you were sure it had been considering the comedic faux beard he had on.
"Really?" he asked with sarcasm and a deadpan stare. He knew you hadn't seen one second of the skit.
Unable to speak, you watched as he walked past you to the dressing room. You stood frozen, feeling more guilt ooze throughout your body than you thought possible. You'd hurt him.
"Harry," you muttered when you entered the dressing room.
No response.
"Harry, I'm sorry," you added.
Nothing.
You stepped closer to him, his back to you as he pulled on his slacks.
"Say something."
"'s nothing to say Y/N. You obviously had something more important to do than to be there for me."
"Harry, that's not fair," you argued. "I was there for you. I mean...I'm here! For you!"
He finally turned then, his eyebrow raised in question. "Really?"
"Yes!" When he just continued to glare at you, you shook your head, throwing your hands up. "I can't believe this."
"Can't believe what?"
"You can't be jealous because I was excited to see Colin and Michael."
"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not jealous."
"Then what is it?"
Harry sighed, dropping his shoulders. "I'm just upset that you missed the skit."
"I said I was sorry. I didn't mean to. You're right, I got caught up in the excitement, but I truly did not do it on purpose. You're the one I'm here for. You're the one I'm immensely proud of! You're the one I'm in love with!"
The last sentence slipped out unwillingly. You couldn't take it back, but you also knew you didn't want to. Harry stared at you, his jaw set but his eyes softening. Then he separated the space between you in one stride, pulling you into his arms and kissing you on the mouth.
"I'm so in love with you," he whispered when your lips separated. He pressed his forehead to yours, cupping your face in his hands. "I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry for?" you choked.
"For..." he paused, "for doubting you."
"No," you shook your head. "I'm sorry. I should have been more considerate. I know you're nervous."
Harry chuckled, stepping back on his heels. "Is it that obvious?"
"Not blatantly," you grinned, running your hands up and down his arms. "But yeah, I can tell."
"'m so bloody nervous, 'm shaking."
"Well, babe, it's live TV. Of course you are! But you're doing amazing, and I'm so so proud of you."
"I still have another song to sing," he remarked.
"And I'm gonna be watching. I promise."
Oh tell me something I don't already know...
The second performance had gone well, and if anyone had really been paying attention, they could hear your claps and cheers the loudest.
You followed Harry back into the dressing room after the finale and credit roll where he had not surprisingly hugged every single member of the crew. You smiled when you sat on the sofa and watched him get undressed.
"So are you as proud of yourself as I am?"
He flashed his dimpled grin and shrugged. "Maybe."
"Are we going to the after party?" you asked cautiously. He hadn't mentioned it, but you'd heard there was one. You didn't want to rock the boat though, after what had happened earlier.
"Do you want to?"
You cocked your head nonchalantly. "It's your call. I'm fine with it. Either way."
Harry smirked. "You're funny."
"Me? Why am I funny?"
"You're trying not to get too excited again. But I know you."
"It's whatever you want, Harry, really. I was just wondering."
Smiling, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. "We can go. I just have to do something first."
"Okay. What's that?"
"Just a minute."
Harry turned toward the rack of clothes at the far end of the room. Then with a smug look on his face, he took something off a hanger, turning again swiftly so you couldn't see. But as soon as he stepped into the trousers, you knew what it was.
"Oh God," you giggled.
Harry looked back at you with a shit-eating grin before pulling on the shirt and jacket.
"C'mere, Mick," you beckoned.
"Wait, I don't have my wig on."
"Don't need it," you commented. "I just want the suit."
Harry finally turned around then to face you, making you grin from ear to ear.
"There he is," you murmured low. "My Midnight Rambler."
"Oh, Jesus," he scoffed which only caused you to giggle more.
"I said, come here," you demanded in a seductive tone.
"Yes, ma'am."
You rose from the sofa as he stepped closer to you. Pulling on the lapels of his jacket, you kissed him on the neck, your tongue licking and sucking his skin, sticky with perspiration.
"Hmm," Harry sounded, turning on his Mick Jagger impression once again. "Looks like someone wants some manky panky."
You laughed under your breath, pulling him backwards towards the couch. Sitting down, you urged him to come with you as you kissed his lips.
"What exactly is manky panky?" you asked. "I thought it was hanky panky."
"I dunno. Is it?"
You laughed harder, sliding your hands down his chest to unfasten the two remaining buttons.
"You fucking Brits," you mocked.
Harry lifted himself up to look you in the eye. "You know what this makes you then, don't you?"
"What?"
"A Starfucker."
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Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 2 🍒 "Coffee & Garth Brooks"
pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader
It's the summer before college and you're sure you have you life figured out.. then you meet your new neighbor, single (hunky) dad Joel Miller...
Word count: 1,247
Summary: Joel visits you at work and during some innocent flirting, you reveal something that you probably should have just kept quiet about.
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, however this chapter is pretty tame, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), reader is tomboyish but otherwise no race or body type mentioned and will not be throughout the series, until specified this story takes place in the summer of 2003 and is AU with no outbreak, flirting, reader has mild fantasies about Joel, no use of y/n
Chapter 1: Austin
🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒
Mondays at the cafe are hectic. So as eager as you are to see if Joel will show up, you're also swamped with orders. It's not until the crowd begins to clear that you see him. He's smiling at you and you can't ignore the way your heart does a little backflip.
"Hey!" You greet him with a smile.
He approaches the counter. Today he's wearing a heather-gray t shirt and jeans. His hair is tousled, beard neatly trimmed, and you catch a whiff of clean-scented shower gel coming off him. "I remember you," he says, a playful glint in his dark eyes.
"I remember you too. . and I remember I owe you a coffee for helping me yesterday."
"Hang on there. Where's that ring I labored so arduously to free from your kitchen drain?"
You smile at his wordiness. "Why, it's right here." You extend your left hand to show off the ring, a lot cleaner and shinier than the last time he saw it.
He surprises you by taking your hand with a delicate touch. "It would've been a shame to lose somethin' so pretty." His eyes move up to yours, as if to gauge your reaction. "That offer still on the table?"
This small yet meaningful gesture mesmerizes you. "The… offer?" you mumble. "Oh! The coffee." Crimson, you fix his coffee, giving him a bigger size than you're supposed to. "Are you on your way to a site?" You ask as you hand him his drink.
"Thank you. Yeah, I've gotta check in on a site before noon." He sips his coffee, leaning against the counter. You try not to stare but you give a quick glance - his body, even when at rest, seems powerful.
"What's it like, being a contractor? Do you like it?" Before the words come out of your mouth you realize how immature you sound. Of course he likes it. He wouldn't be in that business if he didn't.
You feel a little relief when he smiles. "It depends on the day. You get plenty of sun, and you have to deal with a lot of bullshit, deadlines.. but it pays. So I don't mind it all that much. What about you? You enjoy bein' a barista?" Joel smirks and you wonder if he's enjoying your exchange as much as you are.
"It's thrilling," you say in a deadpan voice. "Wanna trade places for a day?"
"I'll pass," he laughs. "Sounds like you're tryin' to get out of work right now," he teases you, leaning over the counter. He places his elbows down and rests his chin on his clasped palms.
"Can you blame me? At least you get your choice of music in your truck, not whatever this is," you roll your eyes at the indie jazz playing over the speakers.
"I'm in charge of the radio in my truck. Just the way I like it."
"What do you listen to?" You also lean against the counter, subconsciously angling yourself towards him. You're only vaguely aware of the cafe, of your surroundings. As you talk with him it just feels good.
"I'll listen to almost anything: rock, oldies, anything really. I guess I don't like anything too artsy and pretentious-soundin'," he answers.
"You strike me as a country music lover," you give him a little bit of teasing.
He tilts his head to the side. "You got a read on me already, huh? Well I won't lie, I listen to some country, but only the old stuff. Not this new, pop-py, overproduced stuff."
"Do you like Garth Brooks? George Strait? They're the greats. You have to like them."
"Girl, you're too young to tell me who the greats are," he grins. "George is the king of country music. Garth's a given. He's kinda cheesy sometimes, but his songwriting is great, no denyin' that."
"When I was a kid I used to go around singing his songs to anyone who would listen. I would put on a show, sing at the top of my lungs.. I was a pretty rambunctious kid," you laugh at the memory.
"Bet you're just as rambunctious as an adult too," he says playfully.
You smirk. Joel's flirting with you, there's nothing more obvious. "I'm a college girl. I'm supposed to be rambunctious."
He gives a low chuckle and an intrusive thought slides into your brain: you want to know what that low rumble in his chest sounds like, with your ear pressed against him… When you come back to your senses you catch his eyes scanning your face. "Fair enough. I'm sure you've got all the boys chasin' ya, huh?"
There it is: the question you thought was only ever asked in books, in movies, and Joel is the one to ask it about you. "Oh.. not really.."
"I find that hard to believe."
You look away a moment, wiping an invisible spot on the counter with a cloth. "Truth is, I kind of have someone.. back home in Houston." You dare a peek at him only to see something like relief cross his face.
"That's great," he says, maintaining a smile.
You regret saying something like that. Trevor isn't someone worth bringing up to Joel, yet you have used him almost as a shield, and you don't know why. "It's, uh.. kind of uh.. ambiguous," you add. "He's going to university there. I guess we're still figuring things out."
Joel nodded slowly. "So.. it's complicated, is what you're sayin'?"
"A little.. I don't really, you know, want to talk about it." You smile and shrug as if it's a minor thing.
"Of course." He puts his hands up, then he looks like he wants to say something but he stays quiet. Looking at his watch he says, "I gotta get to the site."
"Yeah.. I should also get back to work." You turn your back for a moment then turn again to say something else to him but he's already outside going to his truck.
The rest of your shift goes by smoothly and you pocket your tips and start home. Once you're comfortable in the house you allow yourself to think about your interaction with Joel. Of course the first friend you make in Austin would be the ruggedly handsome, middle-aged man next door. A man with a daughter only a few years younger than yourself.
You've never really been in this position before. You don't really recognize your own feelings. You've had crushes on older guys before: teachers, coaches.. so why is this time different? And why are you struggling with it?
Joel, meanwhile, feels himself in almost the same predicament. He doesn't want to admit it to himself but he really likes you. The age difference is too much for him to even consider, but your presence.. it's getting to him. He likes talking to you, wants to be close to you.. but he can't. He doesn't want to mess up his life, and it will only cause problems if he doesn't keep his distance. He worries he won't be able to fully shake you off his mind.
A few days later he spots a paper on his truck windshield. It's a handwritten note from you:
pool party at our place this Saturday @ 2 pm
and your name signed underneath. Joel smiles and gets a pen from inside his truck to write a reply.
We'll be there, he writes beneath your message and he leaves the paper on your car windshield.
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