Zlayixing - DORKS - Tumblr Blog

Me: *doesn’t eat*

Mom: that’s unhealthy

Me: *eats*

Mom: that’s unhealthy

HOW TO DONATE TO BLM WHEN YOU HAVE NO MONEY

a black woman named zoe amira posted a video on youtube. this video is an hour long and filled with art and music from black creators. it has a ton of ads, and in result will rack up a ton of revenue. 100% of the ad revenue from the video will be dispersed between various blm organizations, including bail-out funds for protesters. it will be split between the following, dependent on necessity

brooklyn bail fund

minnesota freedom fund

atlanta action network

columbus freedom fund

louisville community bail fund

chicago bond

black visions collective

richmond community bail fund

the bail project inc

nw com bail fund

philadelphia bail fund

the korchhinski-parquet family gofundme

george floyd’s family gofundme

blacklivesmatter.com

reclaim the block

aclu

turn off your adblocker and put the video on repeat. do not skip ads. let it play on loop whether you’re listening or not. mute the tab if you need to focus elsewhere. but let. it. play.

youtube will donate to blm for you.

please, please reblog. for people who don’t have money to spare, this is incredibly important information to have.

sore subject

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kendall tries to make you insecure about how your romantic relationship started with Harry.

Warnings: angst and drinking.

Word Count: 1.6k+

Author’s Note: here’s something small and sweet! enjoy!

Something was off the moment you stepped into the house with Harry at your side. His fingers hold yours gently as his friends come to greet him. He introduces you as his girlfriend, even though you already know the majority of his friends.

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bleeding love

Frat boy!Harry x Sorority!Reader

Summary: There’s no way in hell you would give Harry Styles the time of day. At least you don’t until he accidentally gives you a bloody nose.

Warnings: blood, language, drinking, puking, mentions of sex

Word Count: 7.7k+

Author’s Note: Frat boy fic is here! I had a blast writing this! Some bits are a little self indulgent based on my experiences at frat parties and being in a sorority myself haha. If you don’t know what cuff night is, it’s basically where you’re hand cuffed to a frat boy for the night because he asked you to be his date and you have to drink a bottle of champagne or wine together until it’s empty to get uncuffed (at least in my experience). Enjoy and tell me what you think!  

here’s the playlist accompanied with the fic

“I’m surprised you’re coming,” your friend Gretchen comments as you and your small group of friends walk to the Pi Alpha Kappa house from your sorority house. 

“Why’s that?” you ask her, carefully stepping over a pile of trash left on the street. 

She laughs, nudging you gently as you walk. She shakes her head at you, her teased curls hitting you in the face. “Don’t play dumb, Y/n. We all know the reason you don’t go to Pike parties is because Harry’s there.”

You scoff at the mention of his name. You roll your eyes. Just hearing Harry’s name makes you want to gauge your eyes out. You wonder how many times he’ll bug the living shit out of you tonight. “Well, if he wasn’t so insufferable maybe I would come more.”

Keep reading

Why do you gravitate towards brooding, conflicted, and repressed characters?

I’ve always liked those characters in movies. Anti-heroes to me are people who are flawed, or always dancing on a fine line between good and bad.

What We Did masterlist

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary:  After finding out you were pregnant, Bucky agrees to help you leave the hero life. The two of you go to Seattle, and hamper down for six months until you start dreaming of a certain someone. Convinced the dreams are a sign, you and Bucky go back to New York. Will everyone be happy to see the pair of you? What questions will they have? And will the lie Bucky and you made up finally resurface?

Warnings: //cheating//pregnancy//ADULT STUFF//

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bleeding love—frat boy!harry sneak peek

Harry throws the gauze into the small trash bin beside the toilet before grabbing a clean cloth. The bleeding has finally stopped, but the burning sensation you feel in your nose doesn’t go away. Harry gently holds your face in his hands and stares at your nose. You don’t know why your heart starts to race. His fingers gently press into the sides of your nose and you groan.

“Does it hurt when I press on your nose?”

You roll your eyes at him. What a stupid question. “Isn’t it obvious? I just groaned in pain,” you snap at him.

Harry glares at you. “I’m just making sure. I think you may have a broken nose. I’m going to grab a bag of ice to put on your nose and some Advil.”

“What?!” you shout at him. “How do you know that just by touching my nose?”

“I’m a nursing major. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You stare at him in complete shock as he hurries out of the bathroom, shutting the door slightly. You had no idea that he was a nursing major.

On The Count Of Three

a long blurb in which harry is the creative director of gucci, y/n is his assistant, and some things just can’t be undone.

Keep reading

best friend harry !

Heart Rush | Series Masterlist

In which they’re rival CEOs, and Y/N just wants a friend while Harry runs his judgement faster before his mind could even comprehend it.

//

Loathing

• “I like your suit. Makes your eyes pop and those tattoos that are peeking from your wrist look more mysterious.”

Harry hears this voice from behind him on the chair right next to his at the circular dining table, a gentle yet still exclaiming one and he likes to think it’s not directed to him because all the people that tries to talk to him in functions like these always ask for a collaboration with his company with theirs that he deems aren’t even half as successful to be worthy of it.

It definitely perks his interest because all he’s been doing for the past ten minutes were to scroll through his phone and look at the extravagant yet empty podium in front of him, his actions being unexpected because he always rolls around late because it seems to attract more attention to him and gain him some more cool CEO points, which he actually did for this — but it was definitely later than him.

Harry chuckles, presses his tongue against his cheeks and spares a look to the people beside him to see that they weren’t being the one talken to.

“Should I thank you for that?”

He smirks as he combs his hand through his hair, shifting his body now that he’s directly facing the voice and he swears to himself to not do that again.

“Y/N?”

It’s his rival.

It’s literally his rival grinning at him in adoration and he is beyond confused to why she isn’t being all hateful to him; even if you’ve never done anything remotely close to being unkind to him, ever.

Coincidence

•   “Are you following me?”

   The words are just bubbling on Harry’s throat to be said after he sees the sliver of the color of your hair on his eyes again, wanting to think he’s imagining things but he’s about sure that it’s you.

   He’s in an art gallery for fuck’s sake, in a weekly and specific exhibit that just has it’s curator email the regulars who come in here to actually invite them because the promotion for this one is on its minimum to filter the amount of people to come here.

   He’s definitely seen some pairs of eyes land on him a bit more long than usual, even if he’s dressed in this blue coat that covers his tattoos the public haven’t seen much yet are in love with it that sometimes it’s his trademark as a CEO for the mystery in them, and he still gets noticed.

  But there’s just this figure that comes a bit later than the opening time and is dressed in a coat too and he’s actually bothered by it, considering the fact that he’s never seen one in it here besides him, or the fact too that the figure just trails and stays around in front of the pieces a few feet away from him.

   And if he thinks more about it, Harry’s bothered by a person who’s wearing a coat and does exactly what a person would do in an exhibit.

   “Are you following me?”

   The words in his throat actually spill over when the figure just stands a few feet behind him, seeing it from his peripheral vision and he just turns around and his suspicions are correct.

   It’s you, literally the one in a coat in the time when it isn’t even that cold yet and you looked beyond appalled when the person in front of you just turns and speaks their mouth, definitely seeing the figure looking at you from your own peripheral vision.

   “Harry?”

   “Y/N?”

   Both parties are just shocked and have their eyebrows knitted together, completely mirroring each other with their jaws agape and either didn’t know whether they should be happy or not.

   “Got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”

Familiarity

•   “Mitch and Sarah are engaged.”

   The other side of your call which was Harry’s sounded only of his breathing, giving him a little chance to assuming that he just woke up since it’s twelve midnight on a Saturday.

   “How did you get my phone number?”

   He asked and it immediately made you groan not only by the confirmation that this is truly his number but by the fact that your assistant and his, both two of your closest friends, are engaged and he dismisses the information to ask on how you got his personal number, was shocking but not at all surprising.

   “Mitch gave — are you serious right now? Mitch and Sarah are engaged!”

   “Yes, Y/N. I heard you. Did he wear the Gucci suit I gave him? With the little Mickey Mouses on the cuff of the suit jacket? Playful, but still endearing to Sarah.”

   The words he said immediately made you regret calling him this late, or calling him anytime for that matter, because he always decides to shift the topic elsewhen like what he did when you asked him about his car, and ended with Harry reciting the only phrase in French he’s fluent at saying that has something to do with going to the cinema.

  “Harry!” 

  The scold makes him sit up even if you can’t see him, chuckling as he props himself so he’s leaning against the headboard while his other hand knuckles his eyes.

   “Sorry, wrong question. Did he give the ring with the diamond or the ring with Sarah’s favorite stone which was my suggestion?”

Selfishness

•   “So Niall, who do you have the hots for?”

   Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he pairs it with the exaggerated fall of his torso momentarily, being backstage as his long-time friend invited him to come with him so they could hang out after as Sarah is with him, rolling his eyes at his boss.

   “S’Ellen serious right now?”

   He rhetorically asks and not that he hates the host, in fact he loves her, but it’s the fact that questions like these still get asked to people like him, more specifically CEOs because he swears the moment he either says a name or not when he’s asked that, there’s a full-blown The Sun article about it five minutes later.

   There’s this pattern on her guests, and he could swear Bill Gates was just here a week ago from what he’s heard and now, there’s the head of Horan & Co. out and about, laughing his ass off on whatever Ellen’s conversing to him about.

   Or this game in where you pick people out over the other, and he knows this because his face has been put on it a dozen times, but he still can’t be bothered to know what it’s called, much more know if it has a name.

   Harry’s watching them through the screen, arms crossed across his chest as he chews on his gum and he’s snickering on how Niall is flustered by the question.

   The answer was open to people he knows either business-wise or celebrity-wise as she urges him, shoving his face in his hands as he combs his hand through his hair.

   “Uhm-…”

   That seems to be their innate reply when someone asks that but the cheers when he started off roused him to say the truth somehow, and before he knows it, he’s suddenly coughing out his gum.

   “Think Y/N’s cute and all. Perfect, actually.”

Fondness

•   “Got them two weeks for honeymoon, all expenses paid, and the private jet life to wherever they choose.”

   Harry smugly smirks as he leans into one of the pillars which was the starting point too of the red carpet the entourage and most importantly, where Mitch and Sarah will walk on, which was incessantly suggested by him for them to agree.

   He’s scolded immediately by you who pulled him from his leaning figure to it, saying something about it being ruined because it’s too delicate, as he just follows where you go.

   A clipboard’s being held by your hand while you’re still dressed in the silky white button-up shirt and just some shorts since it’s still about four hours before the wedding, and as per your suggestion, you offered that Harry and yourself would go down to the church and the reception venue to see if everything’s in place.

   But that seemed like it was only your job because he’s been smirking all morning, dressed into a silky button-up shirt too because Ayae insisted all the people (which is Mitch’s groomsmen and himself) wear something easy to get out of since she’s the principal hairstylist and didn’t want any product landing on their designer suits.

   In all honesty though, the silky white shirts were Harry’s idea originally since it would look good on the photos and it would be their uniform that he’d be proud of once he sees the same-day edit later on, and he spreads that idea to you too, so naturally, almost everyone’s wearing a silky white shirt as their scrap shirts.

   “You’re no fun today.”

   He then declares once you’re still fussing over and ignoring him so he snatches the clipboard and the pen away from you, taking it as his mantle now to be the one to fuss over and scold the people that aren’t doing their jobs they’re supposed to do, being like second instinct for the both of you since being CEOs are very much similar to what you’re doing now.

   A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you momentarily put your hand on his shoulder, gaining his attention as he’s now waiting for your reply to his remark.

   “Got them a brand new house. Fully furnished, all expenses paid — and you got them a fourteen-day vacation; but by all means, go off.”

Unity

•   “Why does our hotel suite smell like me?”

   Harry groggily asks you as he just woke up from his sleep and his scent is the first thing that reaches your nostrils instead of yours, rubbing his eyes as he’s tired a bit, crawling on the covers to get his clothes from the night before laid on the chair near him, but he decides against it. He bought a ton of clothes anyway.

   He’s only answered with a chuckle, making him sneak in a kiss to your cheek while you’re doing something he doesn’t even notice, digging into his suitcase as his only goal was to find a pair of boxers and a thicker shirt to warm him up because he’re pretty sure the airconditioning’s turned up into the maximum.

   “S’that my perfume?”

   His head snaps to you, because even though he’s well-aware that the room smells like him, he wasn’t aware until now that his eyes caught the sliver of the familiar black bottle in your grasp you’re being hunched over.

   You don’t answer because you now that it would give you away no matter how monotone you make your voice sound, Harry by your side in an instant.

   “S’that my Styles shirt?”

   His look’s unexplainable and he doesn’t know what to feel about what he’s seeing, much more on how to react when he sees you throwing your head back in pure joy as you take turns on spritzing his perfume to the silky shirt and moving it around the air so it wasn’t as harsh.

   “Easy with the my’s there, H.”

   He only look speechless and distraught because his mouth is slightly agape too, making you nudge him jokingly as you offer an explanation.

   “The perfume’s yours but this Styles shirt I’m holding is mine. Had one custom-made to match yours.”

   Harry looks surprised and amused, chuckling as he analyses your actions before crossing his arms across your chest, brow still raised to probe you into speaking more, which he became successful at.

   “We both have the last name Styles and we’re both married now anyways.”

Distance

•   “Mate, Sarah checked. Y/N isn’t there.”

   Mitch decided to be straightforward instead of leaning in to sugarcoat the information his wife just called him about to his boss, saying it somberly and he has Harry swirling his chair in an instant.

   “W-what do you mean my wife isn’t there?”

   He stutters, fingers anxiously tapping against his table as your assistant’s just standing in front of him in all his honesty, the CEO’s mind in shards as he’s trying to piece it all out.

   “She’s not there at the living room? O-or in our room?”

   Harry desperately exasperates, the answer he’s looking for not being given yet to him but he doesn’t want to hear it either right at that second, throwing his head back to collide with the material of his chair as a lump arises in his throat.

   He backtracks on where you could be, or if his assumption whether you’re in the house and Sarah’s lying in the table too, but he just goes too far in remembering things.

   Harry’s hasn’t been going home for the past three days, comes home in the morning for the past week, and has only been saying curt greetings for the past month and it’s just whatever that time of the day is, asking what’s for dinner and mindlessly stating his love without even turning to look at you to say it.

   He inhales sharply, closing his eyes shut as he looks at Mitch for an answer, praying to God it’s what he hoped, but his distraughtness could be mirrored in his friend’s face, and he’s not looking at him.

   “She’s not there.”

Pride

•   “And for two thousand eighteen’s CEO of the year!”

   The emcee yells and the lights dim and the room just falls into collective cheers, some yelling their name out and some just going with the yelling to uphold the drama.

   Harry rolls his eyes on how cliché that this happens every year, wondering on what it would be like if there’s no drumroll to be done for suspense and something better than a trophy is given to the winner.

   You throw your head back in laughter as your husband just yells over the screams and cheers, nudging your shoulder as he does so.

   “S’gonna be you!”

   “No, s’gonna be you!”

   The back-and-forth you have with him ranges from different categories, most of them on who’s gonna win the playful competition between the two of you, whether it’s on who finishes their slide first or who makes the better french toast, some being the sexual innuendo in their sentences that they don’t even notice until their love points it out.

   And this happens to be the humble back-and-forth, the type of arguing that the other’s gonna win instead of their self.

   The both of you collectively roll your eyes that makes you chuckle when you feel that the drumroll’s getting too long now and the lights are getting dizzying, but when it all halts and the spotlight turns to someone, that’s when Harry becomes the first to stand up and cheer, hollering that rouses everyone as he brings his arms up to make them longer.

   “Y/N Styles!”

TIME

•   “Proud of us.”

    Harry turns at your whisper, squeezing your hand as you’re both sit next to each other getting prepped for this shoot, smiling at you words.

   Ayae and Lou has been brought by both your personal requests to the magazine itself in which they agreed upon, and even Helene that you met through one of the parties to be the photographer.

   He scrunches his nose when the fluffy brush comes in contact with his nose again, complaining to you to tell Lou to stop doing it but you don’t do so because it’s that amusing to see your husband looking like a big baby whining for her to stop putting powder in his face already.

   You look at the backdrop and it’s the classic dark gray background of TIME Magazine the both of you happened to be the cover of for this month as their special issue.

   Harry then looks down on his clothes after you returned your gaze to him, a matching pair of bold suits being worn by the both of you that he knows is gonna pop on the cover.

   They’re in a large studio, some being interns and some being the ones that are actually assigned to this, giving you and Harry some looks here and there, and a sheepish smile when they get caught.

   He gets momentarily flustered by the cool liquid of the nail polish he just knew now that would be applied on him, looking at your hands to know that it would be indeed matching again.

   Harry smirks to himself, a chuckle leaving his lips as they curl upwards.

   “Most Influential CEOs and Couple of the Year, yeah?”

Heartbeat.

•   “S’gonna be okay. Y/N’s strong. Need you to be calm and not freak out, and you need to remember that she needs you, okay?”

   Anne’s voice only gets half-heartedly understood by Harry as he’s freaking out, pacing around the hallway and he’s in tears, he swears to God.

   “W-when are you gonna be over here?”

   “Your jet’s just getting all prepared and I’m gonna be near. Harry, please angel, deep breaths, okay? Just pray for the best.”

   His mum’s comforting her but she’s in need of comfort herself too, her heart dropping on the state of her daughter-in-law.

   Harry was with you all throughout the labor and the delivery, about to kiss you when you’ve delivered the final push but then suddenly he feels your hand limp on his grasp and the next thing he knows is that his missus passed out and he didn’t even have the chance to look at his baby daughter because he’s being pushed out for that emergency.

   His hands are trembling and he says goodbye to his mum, putting it back in his pocket as he’s still in his scrubs and he’s just rocking himself back and forth.

   Harry’s scared.

a little less comfort

It’s late afternoon when Harry exits the warehouse with a sigh of relief.

He can finally relax without a single ounce of stress hanging over his head. He’s got the plan and manoeuvre prepared but now he’s waiting for the right time to carry it out. It’ll do him good. 

He’s free for a while other than his next scheduled plan which is in two weeks and he can’t wait to sit back and enjoy it fully.

Before the club leader twists his key to start his car, his fingers dig into his slacks and pick out his phone. Unlocking it, he doesn’t give it a second thought before he’s calling you.

His safe space.

Keep reading

boyfriend!harry in japan

boyfriend harry tingz ✨

“Flatmate” Instagram #17

(Book 3 - Jas)

Liked by jackcoleman and others

yourinstagram The boys ☺️

annetwist My babies!

gemmastyles @/annetwist he already has two kids mum 😂

harrystyles @/gemmastyles jealousy looks awful on you

laylahoran Okay, I gotta admit this is cute

harrystyles @/laylahoran aww 😊 love you

laylahoran @/harrystyles don’t make it weird

Liked by yourinstagram and others

harrystyles Left the room for five minutes and came back to see this ❤️

yourinstagram I miss you guys 😔

harrystyles @/yourinstagram we miss you too boss, we’ll be good until you get back

laylahoran When Y/N said she’d go on a business trip, I actually thought you wouldn’t last for a day.

harrystyles @/laylahoran stop underestimating me 😒

niallhoran @/harrystyles didn’t u just text me ‘SOS!!!’ an hour ago?

yourinstagram @/niallhoran @/harrystyles SOS???

harrystyles @/niallhoran pls reply to my text, not my Instagram post 🤦🏻‍♂️

.

.

Liked by harrystyles and others

laylahoran I told Jas and Audrey to watch the turkey for me and when I returned they were LITERALLY watching the turkey 🤣

yourinstagram CUTIES 😍

gemmastyles Is it okay to ship them?

harrystyles @/gemmastyles yes

niallhoran @/gemmastyles no

harrystyles @/niallhoran stop being a lame dad

niallhoran @/harrystyles yesterday you told me you would keep Ria away from boys until she was 30 so who’s lame again?

(more here)

Compromise (Harry Styles)

a/n: Just a little something, duckies!

Part 2 is here.

The worst part of his comment was that he made it without thinking it would hurt her.

The second worst part is that he couldn’t, even after she explained, understand why it hurt her.

They’ve been together for three years. Three wonderful, beautiful years according to Harry in his latest interview but when the interviewer had asked if there was a wedding and babies on the horizon, Harry had laughed and said “Yes to babies, no to wedding. I just don’t think we’re those type of people.”

But the problem was that Hollis wasn’t aware that they weren’t those type of people because she’d always assumed that’s what they were working towards. Marriage and babies and a life combined and now she’d had one of those things snatched away from her without warning and it left her dizzy and floundering. It hurt even more when she realized the interview was done months ago and Harry had failed to mention anything to her about the fact that he suddenly decided they weren’t the marriage type.

She had read the article at work and had promptly developed a severe headache and went home. There was a part of her that wanted to call him despite the fact that he was in the studio and demand to know what he meant by all of this. There was another part, a more rational part that had already accepted this with a sort of cold determination, that kept whispering he said what he said and he meant it.

Harry knows something is wrong the minute he gets home.

Hollis loves their home to have ambiance. Soft lighting, dinner always almost ready, candles and music and the smell of home and being in love. But when he opens the front door, their house is dark. There’s nothing cooking, no Frank Sinatra crooning- even the Christmas tree had been turned off. It sent a jolt through him and he calls her name out loudly, already thinking the very worst. He’s in the kitchen, her name on the tip of his tongue again when he hears her say, “I’m upstairs” and it erases the thought that she’s been murdered but now he’s worried that she must be very sick and he takes the steps three at a time, rushing down the hall to their bedroom.

She tells him she’s not sick, she just lost track of time. But it feels like a lie and it twists his stomach into a knot because Hollis has never lied to him before but now she suddenly can’t- or won’t- look him in the eye.

The worst is that she doesn’t want him to touch her. She skirts past him, tells him dinner will be ready soon, and he trails her to the kitchen, tries to knead her tense shoulders but she shrugs him off, complains that her neck is sore. She lets him kiss her cheek, just once, but when he cups her face and moves to touch her lips, she wiggles out of his grasp the way a puppy does and tries to explain it away by saying the sauce on the stove needed a stir.

So, he’s frustrated when they sit at the table and she sits far enough away that he can’t put his hand on her knee and ask about her day, the way he has every day that they’ve lived together for the past 18 months. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I just to guess?” Harry finally asks, pushing his dinner around his plate.

There’s a long moment of silence while she processes that he’s aggravated with her and is adopting a tone he usually reserves for stupid questions, and it hits her so badly that she promptly bursts into tears. “Were you ever going to tell me that you don’t want to get married or was I just supposed to guess?” She shoots back.

He’s at a loss. He knows Happy Hollis and Moody Hollis and Hollis That Loses Her Cool Over Cruelty, but he’s never really had to deal with Weeping Hollis and he’s drowning here, really, hands uselessly reaching for her, as she buries her face in her hands and starts crying in earnest.

“What’s this about, love?” He questions, dropping to the floor by her chair. It feels like a good sign that she lets him take her hands in his and kiss her tear streaked cheeks until she calms down enough to answer him.

“I read the interview.”

“Ok,” he says slowly. “And it’s upset you?”

“Did you really say we aren’t the marrying type?”

His concerned expression morphs into a soft smile and all the anxiety in her stomach lifts as she realizes how stupid she’s been. Of course she knew the media twisted things for a more compelling story and of course Harry didn’t say that. Of course not.

“I’m sorry, button. I know you don’t like when I talk about us but it got brought up and I didn’t see the harm. I’ll be careful next time, ok?”

Dread, cold and black and clawing, works its way back into the pit of her stomach. “I’m not talking about that. I don’t care that you said something, I care about what you said.”

He’s confused, eyebrows knitting together. “I’m sorry, I’m not piecing this together. What exactly did I say wrong?”

She’s horrified, flight or fight kicking in when she says, “Do you really not want to get married? Ever?”

He opens and closes his mouth once, twice, before he says, “I don’t. I don’t want to get married.”

It feels like her heart is being pulled out through the bottom of her feet and she struggles not to start crying again, heartbeat pounding in her temple. “You never told me that.”

“I thought you knew.”

There’s a strange sensation tugging at his navel as she slowly slips her hands out of his. It’s like a warning bell but he can’t quite grasp what it’s warning could be because the most steady thing in his life was Hollis and their relationship and there was no reason for him to suddenly fear why she was looking at him like she had no idea who he was.

“We talked about children,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to be married to have kids.” He tries to cup her knee in his hand but she pushes his hand off.

“I’m not going to have kids outside of wedlock,” she tells him firmly. “I’ve gone against a lot of my beliefs since I’ve been with you but this is the one thing I won’t do, Harry. No marriage, no kids.”

She hates when he adopts a soothing voice, speaks to her like she’s a scared bunny about to dart off with an injured leg. “Button, you know my parents went through a nasty divorce and I don’t- I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want to put us in that position. It’s just a piece of paper. Meaningless.”

“It’s not meaningless to me.”

They don’t talk as they scrape off their uneaten dinner into the garbage disposal, wash dishes, and wipe down counters together. He hopes they can move past this, that their whole evening isn’t ruined, but when he sits on the couch and pats the space beside him, she ignores him so thoroughly that his heart hammers wildly as he watches her head up the stairs.

She doesn’t come back down.

It’s hours later before he goes to bed. He’d almost expected to find their bedroom door locked but it isn’t and he slips out of his clothes and into the bed, slotting himself behind her. It feels like a good sign that she doesn’t pull away but when his palm cup the softest part of hip, fingers slipping beneath the elastic band of her panties, she firmly tells him no.

Neither of them sleep very well.

Harry feels like he’s just dozed off when he feels her slip away from him and he blearily glances at the clock, notices it’s a full hour before her alarm would go off. He waits to see if she’s just going to the bathroom or to let the dog out but she reappears fully dressed and he says, “Where are you going?”

Her answer is curt, focus on the buttons at the top of her blouse. “Work.”

“Little early, isn’t it?” He tries to reach for her, sends up a little prayer that their row last night is forgotten, but she easily dodges him, sits on the far end of the bed to pull on her shoes.

“I have some things to catch up on.”

“Alright,” he says slowly. “How about we go out tonight? Sushi?”

She shakes her head, already shouldering her bag. “I don’t know.”

She’s almost to the bedroom door when he says her name softly, tears edging his voice. “Hollis. I love you.”

There’s an awful moment where he thinks she’ll ignore him, ignore his love and his feelings and the panic welling in his chest, but she sighs, defeated. “I love you, too. I’ll see you tonight.”

Harry thinks that maybe being apart for the day will be a good thing. She’s obviously genuinely stressed about this marriage thing and while he thought they were on the same page, it hurts him to know that he’s caused her even an ounce of pain. He mulls it over, a way to compromise, a way to make her happy, and inspiration hits him and he knows he should wait until she’s home but he’s so eager to lift her mood that he calls her on her lunchbreak.

“I think I’ve come up with a compromise,” Harry tells her.

What she wants to say is that there isn’t any compromise on this one, but she loves him, loves the way he sounds so excited, and she’ll hear him out regardless. “Ok?”

Hollis had almost had a good day. Almost. She was still reeling from the shock of being blindsided by the fact that the man she dedicated her life to never planned to be more than her boyfriend, but the day hadn’t been a total loss. She’d had morning coffee with her favorite coworker and talked to her new friend at the market, accomplished a bunch of little tasks that she had been putting off.

But now she was sitting in her car, quietly crying as Harry excitedly explained this great compromise which wasn’t a compromise at all, not to her. Because a compromise consisted of both people getting something they need out of the deal and while Harry was still getting out of a marriage, Hollis was only getting a party. A party with their friends and family and they could get rings, but no officiant, no certificate, nothing that made it legal.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that it isn’t good enough. Doesn’t know how to tell them that she wouldn’t waste her parents or siblings time with a fake wedding. Doesn’t know how to tell him that she understands he’s making it as easy as possible for himself to leave when he finally decides he’s had enough of her.

So she just hangs up on him.

And when he tries to call her back a dozen times, she powers her phone off.

She’s an hour late coming home.

When she pulls into the driveway, Harry is sitting on the front steps and he pops up, hair wild, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while he watches her walk up the sidewalk. He’s angry, she can tell, but she’s angry, too, and for the first time, his angry suddenly shifts into fear because she stops at the bottom step and says, “We need to talk.”

They sit at the kitchen table facing each other and it feels surreal to them both, hands nervously tugging at rings and bracelets until Hollis takes a deep breath. “I did a lot of thinking today. About us.”

“You don’t like what I came up with?” He asks, a touch annoyed. “I’m trying to compromise here, Hollis.”

Some people explode when they reach their wits end, when they’ve had enough. Harry is a screamer, a fit thrower, but Hollis is a different breed, words steady and measured when she’s angry enough to throw a punch and Harry recoils from how calm she is. “That’s not a compromise, Harry. That’s you getting what you want and me getting scraps like a yard dog… the way it always is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her hands clench into fists and she moves them off the table and into her lap. “It means that you’ve never given up a single thing in this relationship. It means when you didn’t want to live in the States, I gave up my family and friends and a job I loved to move here with you despite the fact that you’re gone a good chunk of the year. It means when I wanted to live in the country, but you wanted in the city- we lived in the city. It means you picked out what car I got, what color we painted the house, what furniture we got. It means when I tell you I want to go home for Christmas but you want to be with your family, we stay here and I get to see them after the New Year. Scraps. You get a full fucking meal and I get crumbs and I am sick to death of it.”

He opens his mouth to defend himself, to apologize, to do something but she slams her fist on the table and says, “I’m not finished! Listen to me for once!”

He nods carefully, shocked.

“I have had this overwhelming need to please you since the day we met. And that’s not your fault but I’m starting to realize you don’t feel the same way about me. I’ve given up all of these things, I had sex before marriage for you, I moved in with you, I moved half-way across the world for you, I have left little chunks of myself behind in order to make you happy and you have done nothing, nothing of the same. It feels like I’m convenient because I make myself available to you and that’s it.”

Harry isn’t sure when he started crying, but he’s shocked when he feels tears slip down the corners of his mouth. “What are you trying to say?”

“I don’t think you love me. And I think we’re wasting each other’s time.”

Harry doesn’t feel like he’s in his body anymore. It’s a weird sensation, ears buzzing loudly as his heart thump thumps erratically in his chest, but not feeling like he’s connected with this body that has done so much wrong as if his soul is literally trying to break ties with him so some part of him can still be loved by her.

“You don’t think I love you?” He questions softly. “How- how could you ever think I- as if I could even- there’s only you- what are you saying?” He pushes back from the table when she does. “What are you saying, Hollis?” He demands.

“I’m saying I think we need to br-“

“No,” he says it so loudly that she jumps. “Don’t you dare.”

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do, Harry. But I can’t keep doing this. I love you with every fiber of my being but… I love me, too. And I have to take care of me.”

It hurts. It hurts so bad because he’s always thought it was his job to take care of her and he’s had it thrown in his face that he’s done a piss poor job of it. That stupid, fighty bastard inside of him wants to tell her that none of this was his fault. He wasn’t a mind reader, couldn’t tell if she didn’t want to move or hated the color of the living room or the couch when she never spoke up, but it wasn’t true, was it? She might have never said no, but he had seen the way she had wrinkled her nose at the furniture, the way she had longingly talked about staying in Georgia, the way she had cried so bitterly the entire first month she was in England. And he had ignored it because he had gotten what he wanted.

What a wretched son of a bitch he was.

He doesn’t know how to fix this and he knows he should give her a moment, give them both a second to recover because all he’s going to do is make things worse, but he can’t keep himself from following her into the bedroom, mind reeling when he sees her pulling clothes out of her closet, suitcase already open on the bed. It doesn’t make sense, even to him, when he drops to his knees in front of her, tugging her hands into his. “Marry me. Hollis, marry me. We’ll go tomorrow and make it official. Or we can having a big wedding. It doesn’t matter. I love you. Let me make things right. Marry me, button.”

She looks shocked, eyes wide, and her mouth trembles as she leans down, cupping his face in her hands as she kisses him. Kisses him like she loves him because she does and he pushes back just as fiercely, murmurs be my wife against her lips when she starts to pull away.

He’s expecting to see her cry. He’s expecting she’ll be happy and he’ll be happy, too, really because the only thing he’s ever wanted is Hollis and it scares him to makes this compromise but if it’s what she wants, it’s what he’ll do.

What he doesn’t expect is to see pity with a flash of anger in her eyes as she gently thumbs tears off his cheek. “Why did you think this would solve anything?”

Harry is made of lead, still on his knees as he watches her pack. She pauses, touches the top of his head reverently and says, “I’ll call you in a few days.”

She’s almost to the front door when she hears him call out, “Hollis. I love you.”

She pauses at the door, calls back, “I love you, too.”

And before she changes her mind, she leaves.

It's not about Anne With An E just being cancelled. It's about the fact that every Anne of Green Gables installation is about Anne and Gilbert and their story and for once, it was about more than that, it was about the consequences of racism and physical/sexual assault, indigenous history and residential schools, slavery and bullying and knowing your past and exploring it, it was about understanding your own beauty and living it and it was about friendships and it was wholly, completely about a girl way a head of her time. But they still managed to make the finale about Anne and Gilbert and now there are storylines, important storylines, in this show that'll never be addressed, that are just hanging there waiting to be completed and I just can't seem to understand why they cancelled a show that still had so much to talk about.

Something in Between Masterlist

Summary: Y/N is Sebastian’s stylist, personal assistant and friend, but what is Y/N going to do about her feelings for him.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

I’ve been seeing some posts here and there about how some of the people closest to Cam haven’t posted about him or his death on socials.

Hot take: they don’t have to. They are fully entitled to grieve privately and in any way they want. They do not owe you anything. We all know how much they loved him they do not need to prove it to us with an Instagram post. Let them grieve in peace.

Reblog if you support equal rights because I do 💕

Trigger Warning: [Blood] [Mention of Assault] [Hate Crime]

Wow all I can say is the 4 guys who did this disgust me. They need to be charged and put in jail.

how did abortions get banned faster than assault rifles