#got the cheapest phone yesterday after the screen on my old one got fucked after i dropped it

[kvltoris]

lol does anyone know any good options for running a non proprietary os on a phone, just got a new samsung and i cannot change the screenshot button

[fauvester]

thanks to @soundwavereporting for encouraging me to Write my Humankaiju Rodorah Truth

Rodan swam into the waking world way past when he usually got up for work. He had a moment of panic, thinking his alarm didn’t go off, but then he remembered – weekend, Saturday morning. He’d been out Friday night, a one-man celebration of finally getting his grades from his Master’s program back, finally.

Tasted sour. His mouth. Gross. He swallowed thickly and cracked his eyes open.

His studio was bleary and bright. Someone must have opened the shades; he had a new basement apartment and liked to keep them closed to deter anyone from looking in.  Hey, he’d gone home from MI with someone, hadn’t he?

Oh, yeah. That explained it. He rubbed his eyes vigorously and squinted, looking up. The other side of his bed was empty, but from behind the hastily erected folding screen that separated it from the living area he could hear someone moving around.

Last night – he’d gotten the email after almost six months of negotiating with the Dean’s office while he was still at work, checking his phone waiting on his COSY to autoresolve (old-ass software they were using. No manches.) He’d actually jumped up and whooped in excitement, which would have been embarrassing if anyone besides Ques was there.

He’d texted Goji and Mothra to see if they wanted to go get something to eat in celebration, but the latter said she had plans and the former rarely had her phone on her and didn’t respond. Anguirus was visiting family, and Rodan wouldn’t stoop to hanging out with Baragon if he was the last guy on Earth.  So he clocked out and went down the street to Monster Island Bar alone.

His lab building was only a couple miles from the center of Monsuta, on the other side of it from the beach. He could get everywhere on foot or on his motorbike.

So with an extra spring in his step he’d locked his bike underneath the streetlamp outside the bar and headed in for a drink.  He hadn’t had a chance to go out since the incident with his old apartment; between the thrill and razor’s edge of fear watching the old place burn to the slow and excruciating process of getting arrested, thrown in a holding cell for a weekend and then told that he was getting let off, he’d been sort of on edge for the past few weeks.

“Relax, ‘dan,” Goji said when she picked him up from the Correctional Facility, clapping a broad hand on his shoulder. “You got off this time when you could’ve been in jail for the rest of your life. People like us don’t get chances like this. Enjoy it.”

He couldn’t, though.  He was still taut as a live wire. How did he slip through the cracks?  He’d had a lapse of judgment. The place he’d lived for years was being sold out from under him to some foreign developers who’d rip it up and turn it into luxury condos and price Monsutans out of it with impunity, and damn it, Rodan wasn’t going to let that happen.

Having access to the chemical components of any commonly used explosive substance was definitely a job bonus at his lab. Not like Ques cared enough to keep inventory of anything.  She was too busy being bitter and feeling sorry for herself.

So his old place had burned – exploded, actually – and Rodan was caught, of course, because who else, and then someone had decided to let him go.

He knew how things worked around here. Someone did him a favor, and now something was expected of him.  He owed someone a debt, someone powerful, and he didn’t like not knowing who it was, or what they might conceivably ask of him.

It just made him jumpy.

So anyways – he’d decided to go out that Friday to loosen up after a very confusing and challenging couple of weeks, throw down a few beers.

He’d got himself the cheapest bottle MI carried, his usual, and nursed it in the middle of the bar as the other patrons trickled in for their usual Friday libations. MI was what Mothra would call ‘homey’; there was pool, if you cared to challenge Battra; the tvs weren’t too loud that you couldn’t hear the 80s music channel; you could sit on the patio if you didn’t mind that the whole place was a wrought-iron tetanus ward waiting to be established.  When Rodan was alone he mostly liked to drink in silence and futz with the candles at the bar. His new basement apartment was an absolute dustpan and he wasn’t in any hurry to get back there.

The bartender’d tapped him on the shoulder and he’d spun around, thinking that he’d fucked something up, but she handed him a glass of something clear and beautifully garnished instead.

“From the guy at the end of the counter,” she said.  “It’s the best we have on shelf.”

He looked, not caring about subtlety. There was a guy at the end of the bar, ensconced in a corner and half in the shadow, leaning against the wall like a shadow himself. He had a phone in his hand, scrolling slowly, and he was looking over at Rodan with a practiced and incredibly precise casualness.  Damn, he was good looking. Not his usual type, given, but tall and sharp and sort of weird looking in the face but in a very Fancy Model way. In the warm electric lights Rodan saw his eyes glint.

And he was looking at Rodan.  With the slightest smile, an it’s-there-if-you-want-it-to-be smile, looking appraisingly, like he was evaluating Rodan and didn’t find him wanting.  He stopped scrolling, clicked off his phone, keeping their eyes locked, and cocked an eyebrow. Are you coming over?

Rodan took a sip.  Expensive tequila. So the guy didn’t just have good taste in clothes. The stranger watched him. Rodan licked his lips, tasting salt and mellow cool alcohol, and then brought the glass a half dozen seats over to sit next to the man who bought it for him.

Rodan, in the present, internally curled up and kicked his feet with glee at the memory. He’d picked up plenty of people at bars back in the day, but he was rusty in that department now. Besides, he was used to being the initiator in those relationships. It felt nice to be attended to, and the guy – Kevin, was it? Kyle? – had attended to him in every conceivable way that evening, and then later that night.

He was Scandanavian, here for work, he hadn’t had a chance to visit the famous beach yet but he was looking forward to it, he liked his drinks on the rocks. He had shoulder-length blond hair but he wore it up; his lips were a little too wide for his aristocratic face but that made it interesting enough to look at.  He had long, slender fingers and he knew how to use them. He had a tattoo of a dragon on his hip. He spoke Spanish, among other languages, and liked classic metal too.

Rodan, in the present, rolled up to sit. No hangover, thankfully, just tired. He reached under the bed and grabbed an undershirt, pulling it on as he stood up and knocked at the screen.  It felt silly, but he didn’t want to intrude if Kevin was still there. God, he hadn’t had a one night stand in a while, this was excrutiating.

“Hey, are you still there?”

A moment. “Your shower doesn’t have a curtain, you know this, yes?”

“Oh, yeah. Haven’t had time to unpack it. Sorry.”

A chuckle. “No, I’m sorry for waking you up so early. My body tells me I’m a morning person, my head doesn’t agree, though.”  God, that accent!  On the other side of the divider, Rodan found Kevin in his little kitchenette. To his embarrassment, his houseguest was washing his dishes, dressed only in Rodan’s almost knee-length sweatpants and his mother’s laundry apron.

“Oh shit, don’t worry about that! I swore I washed them yesterday, you really don’t have to, dude.”

“Not at all, I made pancakes and thought I should clean up afterwards. As a thanks for letting me stay over!” Kevin smiled brightly at him. God, he should really make sure his name was Kevin.

He looked damn good in just Rodan’s sweats and apron.

“Pancakes?”

“And coffee. Your machine was making noises – I found a press, though.”

“Where? Did you take apart my entire kitchen?”

“Ech, I’ve been up for a while. I didn’t want to leave you without seeing you though.  I thought it would be rude.”

“Most people would’ve left a note and dipped. I’m used to it.”

“Well, if you didn’t want to see me, at least now you have pancakes, so it is a net-gain, yes?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Rodan assured him. “It’s nice, I mean. I’m glad you stayed. Just not used to decency, I guess. And thanks for the pancakes.”  Kevin dried his hands, finished, and Rodan pulled him against himself by the waistband of his pants. He barely came up to the man’s shoulders.

Rodan looked up and Kevin smiled down at him, then ducked down and gave him a quick, dry kiss that Rodan felt through his whole body like a little sparkly shockwave.  His body remembered last night.

Something on the other side of the room buzzed. Rodan smacked his own ass on instinct even though he wasn’t wearing pants with back pockets and Kevin pulled off his apron and scrambled around to the couch, where he’d left his coat the day before.

He fished his iphone out of his pocket and answered it in an unintelligible language. His tone started light and easy but went flat and businesslike as the conversation went on.  Rodan helped himself to some pancakes, deciding to eat them rolled up with his fingers and dipped in butter as he listened to the waterlike vowels and slurred consonants from the living room.

Kevin hung up, pursing his lips.  “That was my work partner.  I have a conference call in a little bit to prepare for, so I’m going to head out.”

“On a Saturday?”

“It’s still Friday over where those partners are.”

“Huh, wow. Your place is really global, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and growing bigger all the time.” He smiled beatifically and gestured to Rodan’s room.

“Yeah. What did you say you did again?” Rodan asked as Kevin pulled on his clothes.

The Scandanavian smiled at him, snapping his brilliant gold hair into a bun.  “Oh, it’s all very vague. Financial analytics, insurance. Some international shipping. Real estate.”

His tone was light and pleasant but something in the air between them felt suddenly strange and heavy. They looked at each other over the bar of Rodan’s kitchenette, the scientist and the stranger and the chemistry between them.

Kevin stood up, breaking the moment, and gently took Rodan around the waist. “I put my number on your bedside table,” he said.  “I will be here for a few weeks, perhaps; if you’d like to spend some time together, call me.  I’d love to.”

Rodan reached up and traced a thumb over his high cheekbones, the corner of his mouth. His washed-out-blue eyes followed, amused, and Rodan pulled him in for another deeper kiss.

“Okay, fine, I guess I can call you,” he said after they broke apart. “But you’ve set the bar pretty high this time.  I’m going to expect a continental breakfast.”

“Oh, no, next time we are staying with me, where there are shower curtains,” Kevin said, and kissed Rodan on the top of his mssed-up head.  “And I look forward to it.”

Later on, a few miles away, Sander calls his brother back.

“How long does it take to case a place so small?” Richard groans in Danish.

“I didn’t want to be rude,” San says, running his hand over his face where he swore he could still feel Rodan’s thumb. “Besides, he has just moved in, he doesn’t have any useful papers out.  I think Ni will have to find them online.”

“Mmh.” That was Niels, on the conference call.

“He’s an interesting one, though. I think he’ll be worth our time.”

“Ech, I don’t care about that, I just care about how much of a problem he’s going to be for us.”

“If the big construction worker won’t keep him in line, then I can keep him busy,” San responds.  “I think you’d like him. He’s fun.”

“Nobody fun lives in a ground floor apartment,” Ni again.

And then the line devolved into a discussion of the apartment complex on the street over from the one that Rodan had burnt down and San started the car again, heading back for their penthouse downtown.

He felt good about this city, this project.  The last few had left him cold. He wondered if he’d lost his spark for their game - it had felt scarily mechanical.  They’d been going through the motions, town after town, breaking down and rebuilding rotely while checking their watches. But this time…

He thought of the little firestarter, his bright dark eyes and his scarred hands, his quick confident tone and the quiet little noises he made.  Maybe he’d found his spark again.

[harryimaginedstories]

okay with less

Hey friends! As you know I’m absolutely shitty with keeping up with requests and writing them quickly, but I do give my best.  This story is based on requests: H’s girlfriend who’s in college is a bit insecure about not having the same wealth he enjoys and when his friend jokes about her being too young as well, things get a little messy.  Also, it’s a bit christmasy. :)

Picture isn’t mine. x 

The list of things I still needed to get in time for christmas was endless while the weight of my wallet got lighter with every store I entered. A heavy sigh fell from my lips and I watched with envy how people rushed past me, determination written over their faces and bags filled with goods in their grasps. No worries in their minds, except perhaps whether or not there were enough table decorations left to buy or if their relatives would arrive on time this once or whether or not the candles would burn bright and long enough.  All troubles I didn’t have. My little flat I could only pay rent for by working every day after school in a small cafe, which admittedly didn’t pay too well, and through the generous support provided by my family, was decorated with fairy lights, but no christmas tree, no ornaments and no presents. Those were luxuries I couldn’t afford, which was okay. Harry had kindly invited me to spend christmas with him and his family in their home, meaning my flat didn’t have to be pretty and perfect for anyone, me included. Complaining would be pointless and I counted myself lucky that I could live in my favorite city, study and get a good education and that my boyfriend was understanding and respectful when I couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle all of the time. I supposed that was the only aspect of being a student in an expensive place like London, I didn’t like: Having to tell Harry no when he asked me to accompany him to an expensive business dinner, saying no when he asked me to join him and his friends on a holiday and either declining his invitations to events or attending only to then the next day read about how I’d been the ‘worst dressed’ and the ‘cheapest looking’ there. 

“You know I could help you out,” Harry had offered more than once, be it about more decorations and presents for christmas like he had only yesterday, dresses he knew I liked but couldn’t afford, or books I needed for school as well as the rent of my flat. Of course I couldn’t and most definitely wouldn’t let him do that for me. I was his partner, not someone who’d take advantage of his hard worked for and well deserved money, which I knew he appreciated but the faint sparkle of disappointment when I sent him off somewhere fun without me, didn’t go unnoticed. It was the same sadness I felt, too.

I glanced at the bag in my hand, filled to the brim with everything Harry and I would need for the christmas biscuit baking marathon we’d decided to do tonight and my heart jumped with excitement. There were tiny silvern eatable stars and I’d thrown in a few food colourings as well, happy to finally try the funny looking biscuits I’d seen on tumblr. Upon stepping out into the cold air of a cloudy day, I stepped aside and against the building to keep out of the way of the people rushing to get past me, and pulled out my phone to check for any messages, especially from Harry. There were a couple. 

From H, 16:07 Got us some cookie cutters! Even a reindeer!! I’m excited. Love you. x

From H, 16:45 I fucked up. John and Jake just called saying that we’d agreed to hang out tonight ages ago and I totally forgot. I know what you’re going to say and no I couldn’t just bail on them. Not bailing on you either. Promised you this and won’t let you make me go and postpone us. Not gonna happen. You think it’ll be okay for them to come over tonight as well? We can still bake, it’d just be them there, too. Compromise? Again, I’m sorry. x

From H, 16:47 Don’t be disappointed please. I love you. Think of the reindeer cutter I got us! x Well great, I thought and bit my bottom lip harshly. I quite liked Jake, and John was okay as well, but I wasn’t thrilled to have them crash what was meant to be a quiet night in with my boyfriend. We hadn’t had one of those in a while and truth to be told, I missed him. Just when I was about to text something back, his picture flashed over the screen of my phone. 

“Hey,” I answered his call, “I just got your texts.”

“M’really sorry,” Harry muttered and I could hear the disappointment I felt mirrored in his voice, “A shit boyfriend as well as a shit pal is what I am. Got every right to be mad at me, love.”

“I’m not mad,” I assured with a shrug he couldn’t see and turned to slowly walk down the street towards the busstop I wanted to take, “It’s not ideal and I could do without them being there, but as long as you promise to bake at least one tray of biscuits with me before leaving to go out with them, I think I’ll be okay.”

“M’not going out with them at all,” Harry protested, though I heard a faint smile in his voice at the reassurance that I wasn’t angry, “M’gonna bake with you and we’ll have our nice little night in like we wanted to.” 

“Except with your friends there, too.” 

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“Romantic,” I giggled, but told him once more that it really was okay and that I loved him still, earning me a soft laugh and sigh of relief.

.....

Harry’s flat was much larger than mine and had a grand kitchen and huge oven, one I preheated when Harry finished our dough he insisted on making alone, since he never failed to remind me of his experience in the baking field. 

“Done,” he called, a confident and proud grin on his face, “S’gonna be delicious, love. Old recipe that sold itself very well where I used to work.”

“You should know, cashier,” I laughed and he was just about to flip me off when the door to his home opened and two sets of heavy footsteps barged in.

“Oi! Harry!”

He shot me a glance before walking out of the kitchen and towards his two mates. I heard him welcome them and the patting noise of men clapping each other on the back. I rolled my eyes and smiled.

“S’the lady here, too?” Jake asked before turning around the corner and stepping into the kitchen to greet me. 

“Hey,” I replied and stepped into his arms for a brief hug. 

“Lady, you say?” John laughed from the door and entered as well, Harry right behind him, “She’s a little girl, if that.”

“Hello to you, too, John,” I greeted him, all warmth gone from my voice. 

He nodded into my direction, then he smirked. “Nice little flat, isn’t it? No wonder you like it here. Tell me, where exactly is that box you live in?”

I sighed. “My flat is just fine, thank you very much.”

John shrugged. “M’not saying it isn’t. Just surprised you’re not taking more advantage of the boyfriend you’ve got. I would if I had as little as you do.”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry shrugged the comment off, giving me a warm smile.

He stepped around his friends and came to stand by the counter again, where he pulled out the cutters from a plastic bag and placed them on the top next to our dough and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changed completely, his charm and warmth calming me instantly. I grinned, happy that he wasn’t all of a sudden ‘too cool’ to help me and not in full ‘lad’ mode.

“Oh, biscuits!” Jake fake cheered, voice high pitched and a wide grin on his face, before turning to me, “Are we required to help or can we just stick around and eat them once they’re done.”

“The latter,” I replied, before picking out the cutters I wanted to use first while Harry rolled out the dough until it was about two millimeters thin. 

He flashed me a smile when he saw me pick out the reindeer cutter and I blew him a kiss. 

“Perfect!” Jake laughed, pulled out one of the bar stools to opposite of us so he could chat with Harry and John while we continued to bake.

It was nice. Harry joked around with his friends while occasionally bumping his hip to mine where I stood by his side and slowly the metal tray filled with little reindeer, moon, star, heart, bunny and owl shaped biscuits. Harry helped me paint them with different food colourings and enjoyed creating little faces on the dough animals. The kitchen filled with the christmas songs the radio had been playing on a loop for weeks now and I enjoyed how, although our change in plans, so far the afternoon was great regardless. Jake joked about how rubbish my owl looked and I batted his hand away when he tried to steal one of the smaller biscuits to nibble on the sweet, uncooked dough. 

“Harry! Your friend’s being a child!” I whined with a laugh and Jake stuck out his tongue at me to emphasize my words. 

Harry chuckled and was about to reply when John interrupted him.

“If anything you’re the child,” John shrugged, sending me a mean grin, “Even have to ask Daddy to help you? Aw, how cute.”

“Sod off,” I joked, hiding the small sting his words inflicted in my chest. 

That was exactly why I didn’t like John too much and hadn’t made an effort to get to know him well. He never failed to mention that I was younger than him, Harry and anybody of their friendship group. Not by far, only a couple of years, but for whatever reason he found it amusing enough to pick on me constantly.  

“Oi!” John continued to taunt me, leaning further over the counter so his face got closer to mine, “What foul words coming form your mouth, kid. Don’t they teach you how to speak to adults in school?”

“We’re too busy studying and preparing for our finals to be belittled like that,” I countered, a faint quiver in my voice only Harry noticed. 

“She’s a smart one,” Harry said in and I smiled when his lips pressed to the crown of my head. I let myself lean into his side momentarily and a flour covered hand squeezed my side so his friends couldn’t see.  I’d confessed to Harry how the comments of his friend annoyed me when last time he’d been around he’d claimed I was too young to drink and had spent the entire evening ripping alcoholic drinks from my hand and taking the piss when I’d asked him to stop doing so.

“M’not saying she isn’t clever,” John agreed, shooting Harry a wink, “And s’great you’re proud of her. S’just that lots of kids are smart in kindergarden. Doesn’t make her Einstein, H. Just you wait what she’s like once she’s hit puberty.”

A harsh wave of tears crashed through me and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep them at bay and not let the embarrassment I felt show. I was proud of my education, proud of how hard I worked and my heart fell even lower at the thought of John learning about my part time job, certain he’d call the cafe and ask them if they thought employing a child was legal. I lowered my gaze to the colourful goods in front of us and suddenly, even though I knew he wasn’t, it felt like John was right.  I’d made my boyfriend stay in with me, in a flat that was his because mine was too simple and not good enough, made him feel like he needed to help me out with money, made him bake colourful foods with me that looked like a toddler had made them and I couldn’t even find the words to stand up for myself against his stupid friend.   I felt small, as if John’s words had managed to shrink me to the size of the baby he saw me as. 

Harry noticed the sudden tension in my body, heard my breathing hitch and recognized the flush on my cheeks as the one I got whenever I was close to crying.

“He makes me feel small,” he remembered me telling him that night when I’d recalled all of John’s mean comments about me, “Like he’s superior to me and I know that’s silly but it really got to me tonight, Harry.”

Seemed like it was getting to me today as well and he didn’t blame me. Harry could practically see the excuse to leave the room and escape the situation forming on my tongue. The hand he’d used to cut his reindeer biscuits with settled on my arm and he pulled me further into his body until I was pressed against his waist. 

“If you’re just here to make fun of my girlfriend I’m asking you to leave right now.”

John chuckled and made a point at rolling his eyes. “Oh, c’mon! A little humor, Harry, please.”

“No,” he shook his head and when I looked up he wore a serious expression and I noticed the sparkle of anger in his orbs. His grip around me tightened reassuringly.  ”H,” Jake began in attempt to soothe him, but Harry continued. “She’s ten times as smart as you are, she’s mature, she’s not as young as you constantly make her out to be and she isn’t somebody you can walk over like that. Specially not in front of me, m’not having that. So I suggest before you make another shitty comment like the arse you are, you go use the door over there and fuck off.”

The faint melody of sia’s song ‘puppies are forever’ filled the room, a strange contrast to the tense atmosphere created by John’s red face and Harry’s steaming head.  I jumped when John smashed his beer on the counter harshly and for a moment I feared he’d broken the glass. My body shifted behind Harry’s and with shaking fingers I took hold of Harry’s shirt.

“Fine!” John barked, pushed back his stool and got to his feet, “M’sick of her innocent act and your absolute nonexistent sense of humor. You can go fuck yourselves, all of you.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Jake muttered and his eyes searched my face for a small smile he hoped his words would bring. 

When he noticed my mouth quirk up he grinned at me and rolled his eyes and John.  “Just ignore him, honey,” he murmured to me while Harry stepped around the counter to see John out, who looked angry enough I feared he’d demolish Harry’s living room. I shuddered with fear and Jake reached out to rub my arm soothingly. There was more yelling to be heard, then the heavy wooden door fell into its lock. 

“The prick’s gone,” Harry came back to say and my heart fluttered with relief. 

“I’m sorry, Harry,” I apologized, “I know he’s your friend and-”

“He’s a dick,” Jake interrupted, “To you, at least. He’s alright with us. But that’s enough for him to have no place here, Y/N.”

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed, coming back to stand beside me and I sighed when his mouth pressed to my cheek, “Won’t have somebody disrespect you, love.”

His arms wrapped around me in an embrace and I breathed in the scent of his neck. Finally my heart slowed down and my stomach unknotted, the tension slowly fading from my shoulders when my arms wrapped around his broader ones. Hands rubbed my back soothingly and my eyes fell shut when his nose rubbed against my jaw.

“I’ve got your back,” he whispered into my ear so only I could hear and I nodded with a sigh, melting in his hold.

“M’still welcome, aren’t I?” Jake asked from beside us and we pulled apart. Harry laughed. “Sure. S’long as you’re nice.”

“Always,” Jake chuckled and I snickered, too, “At least until those biscuits are done.”

“You’re only getting the ugly ones, then,” I threatened and Harry’s heart warmed when he noticed how steady my voice was and how there was no trace of my tears anymore. 

The rest of the afternoon was much calmer and Jake stayed around until it was pitch black outside. We chatted about this and that, for example my job and how school was going, (I involved myself much more into their conversations now that John was gone), ate our delicious biscuits, and when it was time for him to head home as well, he hugged me tightly and reassured me once more that John wouldn’t be a problem anymore. 

I followed Harry back into his kitchen and tried to help him clean up, but he quickly shook his head and ordered me to sit down and let him do it. 

“I don’t mind, love,” he smiled, set down a cup of steaming tea in front of me and began to tidy up the mess we’d made over the past few hours.

I watched him for a while in silence, finding amusement in how domestic the superstar and phenomenon Harry Styles looked, before sighing and clearing my throat. 

“Today shouldn’t have been like it was,” I told him quietly, observing his expression closely, “And I’m really sorry, Harry.”

“No reason to be, sweetheart,” Harry said, absent minded as he made room in his cupboard for the box of biscuits we’d filled. 

I took a sip of the tea he’d made me and shook my head.

“Every reason to be,” I disagreed quietly, “John is your friend and I messes everything up now.”

“If anything, I messed everything up. M’the one who kicked him out, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but because of me.”

Harry shrugged and finally turned to look at me, a kind smile on his lovely face. He, too, grabbed himself a cup of tea and pulled out a chair to sit opposite of me. For a moment he stayed silent, eyes on my hands, then on the few colourful biscuits I’d laid out on a small plate to nibble on before finding my face.

“Y/N, you’re my priority.”

I winced with emotion and reached out to hold his warm hand. 

“And I saw how upset his words made you,” he continued gently, while his thumb brushed against the back of my hand, “Saw you were about to cry.”

A frown knotted his brows together and I squeezed his palm to calm him. “That’s... not okay, love. Not ever and it hurts me as well.”

I nodded, throat closing around a lump. The raw emotion in his eyes, the clear trace of rage at the thought of his friend’s comments towards me, made my heartbeat increase. Harry coughed and interlaced our fingers together.

“If someone’s a dick to you then they have no place here, don’t care if I considered them a friend before. I love you and someone who dares to make you upset is not somebody I want in either of our lives. Definitely not. And you got nothing to feel bad about, that I can promise you, Y/N. M’not gonna miss him or anything.”

I raised his hand and pulled it closer to me, leaned in and his eyes closed when my mouth pressed to his wrist in a soft kiss. “Thank you, Harry. For being there for me. And for being okay with me having less, money as well as years on my back.”

“Of course” he assured, then grinned and sent me a cheeky wink, “You know what was funny though? John implying you calling me Daddy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course you think that’s funny.”

“We could give that a try.”

“Dream on, Harry,” I giggled, only half as opposed to it as I pretended to be, “Dream on.”

 Hope you enjoyed this story! I quite like it. :) Let me know what you thought. x

Also: Masterlist

And: Christmas Harry