you have a way of getting inside my head

I miss you

I miss you in every way, I miss you more and more each day, I wish there were some words to say, which would have made you stay, the world is Cold and colorless without you, time is a blur without you, and I don’t wanna be without you. But you made your choice and it wasn’t me. I didn’t get a choice, it was always you and will always be. You’re the voice inside my head, you’re every book I’ve ever read.and the days go by and the months pass, still I can’t get you out of my head, can’t get you out of my heart, you’re name is the first thought when I awake with a start,and the last when I fall sleep. And everything in between. You haunt me. All because you didn’t want me.

so anyway i have been thinking about the force and how it is leveraged as a kind of political thing in the rebellion versus the empire conflict - where the formal aspects of the empire (beyond palps and vader) are like THE FORCE IS FAKE while the formal parts of the rebellion go around saying ‘may the force be with you’ in a way that is obviously meant to be deeply political - and because i binge read through grievous’ legends wookieepedia page for reasons yesterday, i’m now wondering about how the separatists who merged into the rebellion would think about this

because like, the force as expounded upon and performed by the jedi was effectively a state sanctioned religion under the old republic which means that any belief in the force would have been especially inextricably bound up in the problem of the state and its apparatus of power. the jedi occupy the weird space of being obviously spiritual and yet obviously deeply involved in the politics and the diplomatic fabric of the galaxy. they’re also involved militarily, even if as a last resort kind of thing so i imagine there’s a fair bit of resentment against them (this is the interesting strain of thought i picked up from grievous’ page) floating around, especially amongst the separatist camp. obviously the rebellion is a coalition formed on the basis of political expediency, but there’s obviously one particular strain of thought that’s gained primacy in there - one that dictates ‘may the force be with you’ as a political saying which marks difference from the bureaucratic indifference of the empire, which is simultaneously also a very jedi saying as compared to the kind of saying from any other conceptualizations and belief systems wrt the force.

and like, this is a charged saying! there’s a history to it! some of it politically violent, some of it being bound up in one group of people being more successful at lobbying the jedi into action than another group of people - and ofc the dynamics of power here are crucial to examine wrt who was able to lobby the jedi more successfully into action and who had the resources in the first place, to be able to push the jedi into action - some of it bound up in a history of jedi and republic interventionism that has its own fraught political complications. and especially wrt rebels who came from separatist planets: its likely that they saw a great deal of republic sanctioned violence and specifically, state sanctioned violence enacted by the jedi, on their planets and their homes before the republic transformed into the empire. and now, of course, the jedi are framed politically as martyred heroes because the empire has rendered them taboo and calls them traitors, which automatically makes the political expediencies of the rebellion expand to include the extinct jedi in their fold.

there had to have been some kind of resentment among the rank and file of rebels wrt blithely accepting the jedi conceptualization of the force as the conceptualization of the force (i mean, we’re also more or less given a nod towards there being multiple understandings of the force outside of the light/dark and jedi/sith binaries in the rogue one novel so i am taking it to its obvious furthest conclusion) and moreover, to accepting what was once the republic sanctioned conceptualization of the force which was practiced by their spiritual military enforcers. like, if you’ve lived your life in a conflict where your planet was ruined, your home destroyed and your people killed by the republic and the very visible jedi, i can’t imagine you’d take ‘may the force be with you’ with anything except deeply bitter resentment. or a kind of grudging acceptance, at best, because you recognize that this is part of political positioning on the part of the rebel leadership (again, who is the leadership and who amongst the leadership gets to elect this as the appropriate thing to say to each other while going into battle, while coming out of battle, while dying, while living - that is also a deeply deeply political choice: both mon mothma and bail organa are from planets that were loyal to the republic during the clone wars and the mon calamari were all on the side of the jedi & republic during the conflict on mon cala so their approach to the conflict and the role of the jedi in the conflict is going to be immensely different from someone who grew up on a separatist world and learned separatist politics and then watched the republic tumble it.). 

tl;dr i wonder if the separatist-turned-rebel factions of the rebellion actually grit their teeth and say ‘may the force be with you’ out loud or if the rebellion is democratic enough to allow them to use and voice their own conceptualizations of their beliefs in the force - and even if it is, i do wonder if there isn’t a deep-seated resentment that remains even through the tenuous coalition and what that means in the long run for the rebellion and for the new republic when it’s finally reinstated.

“Secrets are delicate things. They can fill you up with sweetness and leave you like a cat who has found a particularly fat sparrow to eat and did not get clawed or bitten even once while she was about it. But they can also get stuck inside you, and very slowly boil up your bones for their bitter soup.

Then the secret has you, not the other way around”

-Catherynne M. Valente

Dear 17 year old Alex,
You never thought you’d see this day, did you? The day you looked in that gosh damn mirror and the happiness was glowing from the inside out. You never thought you’d live to see a day where Alex was a real person, 22, on his own, and the sadness inside you that craved the beautiful soul you carried and wanted so bad to kill you was slowly diminishing. There was always a voice in the back of your head though, it said “keep going, you have purpose, DONT give up!!!!” I won’t say it gets better, because society puts too much emphasis on it “getting better”, it just gets different in my experience. In life we learn new ways to navigate through our difficulties and triumph in the end, and today looking in the mirror I have with flying colors, conquered the man I called my father who told me I’d “never be a man no matter how hard I tried” I conquered my fears and my sadness, and here I am….an ever evolving butterfly boy, I am whole for the first time in my existence.

Laughing with The King/Part 5 - Jerome Fic

Note: Originally I included the entire interrogation scene but I figured I’d take it out since she isn’t involved in it.

I may continue and post more of the chapters I already have if I get enough feedback. Just let me know if you want me to continue :)

My hands shook as I read those three words over and over again. He loved me? We’d only really known each other for a few days. It was crazy.

He was at the precinct again. He said he would be back but…

I practically ran the entire way there. When I got inside I looked around and spotted an officer ushering him into an interrogation room.

Wait. An interrogation room? Those were usually only used for criminals.

“Jerome!” I shouted.

His head turned, inches away from stepping into the room.

“Woah, woah.” A police officer blocked my view and I pushed past him.

“No, wait. I have to—“

The cop pushed me back, saying something about how I needed to quiet down. I watched with wide eyes as Jerome gave me a sad smile and went into the room.

I shoved past the cop. “Move! I need to see!” I ran to the door and looked into the window of the room.

“Hi, Jerome. Please, take a seat,” Detective Gordon was saying. He was holding out a chair for Jerome next to what looked like Mr. Cicero. 

It all happened so fast. I watched helplessly, tears in my eyes as Jerome changed. His laughter rung in my ears. My head felt like it was filled with too much air and ready to burst.

My knees felt weak and tingles ran throughout my fingers. Suddenly I felt the urge to puke and hurried to the nearest trash can. A fat man with a mustache pat my back and helped me get to a bench. He brought me a cup of water and I downed it, ignoring the splashes that landed in my lap. I threw the cup to the floor and put my head in my hands, mind racing.

Jerome killed his mother. He killed his mother the night she hurt herself. He did it in the middle of the night? Then asked me to breakfast the next morning? He seemed so happy, normal even.

I heard a door open and looked up. Detective Gordon and Dr. Thompkins were leaving the room with Jerome in tow, handcuffs on his wrists.

Shakily, I stood. “Jerome…”

He heard me and looked up, the same grin I’d imagined moments earlier plastered on his face. “Catch the show, gorgeous? How’d you like it? Gonna get tickets to the next one?”

Detective Gordon pushed him into another interrogation room and closed the door. He sighed, turning to me. “Harleen, you should go home.”

“Home?” I asked. “Go home? Home to what? A mother and father that hate each other but won’t admit it and a crowd full of people I’ve been with all my life that will judge me for getting close to him? That’s what you want me to go home to?”

He grimaced and gently put his hand on my shoulder. “You just can’t stay here. There’s nothing else you can do.”

I sobbed and wiped my face. “Where are you sending him?”

“Oh, he’s going to Arkham,” he said with certainty in his voice.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a prison for the mentally insane,” Dr. Thompkins cut in.

I looked back and forth between them. “You’re going to lock him up with a bunch of crazy people?”

Gordon just looked back, an uncomfortable expression on his face.

I scoffed and covered my eyes with my hands. “Let me talk to him.”

Gordon put his hands out. “Harleen, that’s not—“

“Please, Detective Gordon. We can’t let it end here. Please.”

He studied me a moment then nodded. He slipped into the room and I watched as Jerome’s face lit up. “Detective Gordon! Back for more? I’m glad.”

Gordon ignored him as he pulled handcuffs from his belt and cuffed Jerome’s hands to the top of the table.

“Somebody wants to talk to you. Don’t really get why.” Then he opened the door to let me in.

Slowly I walked into the room, Jerome looking back expectantly. When he saw me his face lit up all over again. “Kitten!”

I looked back at Gordon. “At least alone on this side?”

He looked hesitant but nodded and shut the door behind him.

I watched Jerome nervously as I walked to sit in the chair across from him. As soon as I was in the seat he leaned in. “Guess ya got my note, huh?”

My brows knit together. “Jerome… what’s wrong? You’re so different now.”

He tilted his head in thought. “Hm. Wrong. I just don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“You lied to me.”

He gasped mockingly, looking shocked. “I never lied! Just bent the truth a bit.”

I licked my lips as tears came to my eyes again. “You said you loved me.”

His face turned serious. “Now that part was one hundred percent true.”

My heart lifted slightly at his words. “Really?” I whispered in disbelief.

He grinned. “Of course. Why would I lie to my one and only special gal?”

I felt myself melt at his words but was confused. He should disgust me, I should be horrified and scared. Why did I still feel the same way as before?

“You’re gonna come visit me, right?”

I shook my head slightly. “Jerome, the circus is gonna leave soon… probably tonight and… we might never come back.”

“Ditch ‘em. None of them ever cared about us anyway.”

His words should have hurt me but I knew they were true.

“I…” I stammered, unable to think of anything to say.

Suddenly he stood, leaning over the table. “Just say you will,” he whispered.

“Just say you’ll visit, or you’ll wait for me. Give me something, Harley.”

I let out a shuddery breath, eyes watering at his words and the name he used.

His special name for me.

I stood and leaned over the table. “I will. I’ll do everything. I promise. I’ll find a way.” Then I grabbed his face and kissed him.

The door burst open and Gordon came in shouting, pulling me from him.

Jerome chuckled darkly. “You can’t keep her from me forever, Detective Gordon. I’ll find her wherever she goes. Isn’t that right, kitten?”

“I love you, Jerome!” I shouted as Gordon dragged me out and slammed the door.

I waited until two in the morning before I went back to the campsite. Not everyone would be asleep, but they’d at least be drunk enough to not notice me. First, I went to my trailer, not surprised to find it empty. Mom and Dad probably spent the night in someone else’s trailers. I packed my suitcase with my wallet, a few changes of clothes and any and all food I found around the trailer. Once I was sure I had everything I went to the door, but something on the counter caught my eye. It was the flowers Jerome had brought me yesterday morning. They looked smushed and thirsty. I got a vase and filled it with water then dropped the flowers in. I took one last look at them and left.

Then I ran over to Jerome’s trailer. I paused as I shut the door, looking around. I stepped over to his bed and found a sweatshirt that he left behind. I slowly drifted onto the bed, picking up the sweatshirt and holding it to my nose. It smelled just like him. Part carnival popcorn and cotton candy, and part boy smell. My heart broke again and I fell back onto the bed, clutching the sweatshirt to my chest, breathing in its scent.

I don’t know how long I was there but when I woke daybreak was just starting to shine over the hill. I shot up, tying the sweatshirt around my waist and grabbing his comic books from the library. I shoved them into my bag along with the money I’d found in a drawer of Lila’s vanity.

Before I left I took one last look around, knowing I’d never see the trailer again, and wondering when I’d see Jerome.

I’m eating lunch on the the third floor of my building and I look out the window and see you in your building pacing, agitated, talking on your phone inside your office. You look my way and I give you a wave and a flying kiss before you stutter your words and drop your phone AU 

There was literally no where to sit in the cafe so I ask to have a seat across from you but you can’t hear me through your head phones so I throw a piece of cookie at you to get your attention AU

The public train is packed and we’re standing face to face with barely any distance and the train hits a bump sending you forward onto me and we both fall bringing a bunch of other people down with us AU 

Your hair dresser gave you a bad hair cut and want to find a new one and you happen to stumble upon the hair salon I work at AU

It’s raining and you thought I was your friend waiting for you at the train station and decide to run under my umbrella and hold my waist but when I react you realize I am not who you that I was AU

We grabbed each others order by accident AU

I thought you were someone else so I threw a colour powder bomb at you AU

Mom, I hope you don’t hate who I’ve become
I was once your boy with big brown eyes and a taste for home
But as I got older I just became more disconnected from you and everybody I love
The noise inside my head and desire for more
It drove me to dig myself the deepest of holes
Keeping myself constantly looking up, searching for a light, a sun that never came

By the time I die, I just want to make everyone around me proud
Be known for greater things than my own troubles and regrets
And I hope by then my grand fear of dying alone won’t be true
Believe me I’m so tired of feeling this way
But I promise you one day I’ll find my own light and have all the strength to get out from under the pavement
Grab the shovel and dig my way out of here

anonymous asked:

Can I ask you a question about writing? When you're coming up with an idea do you outline or just begin writing? And do you write on paper or use your computer? Is there any good way to get out of your head to stop judging yourself?

Mmkay, I’m gong to approach this from the fic writing angle as opposed to the general writing angle. I have pretty similar processes, but there are a few minor differences.

For fic, though, I use my computer for basically everything. I’ve got (several) running documents that have all sorts of fic pieces and completed pics stashed inside them, and I just start in on a new one when the mood/inspiration/time works out. If I’m not at a computer/a computer is busted but I’ve got the itch, I might make notes on paper? But I’ll usually just use my phone, then. 

As for the actual writing part of it, I usually just start right in. Sometimes this goes better than others and I can write from end to end or at least the start of a sub-section to the end of a sub-section  with no problem. Other times, it’s super skeletal, stiff, disjointed, and like… nothing at all that I would show anybody, ever. BUT it’s important cause it’s giving me the structure – I want A to say something, B to react, for their to be tension or an interruption here… an then I revise and make it better, refine the phrasing, etc. But hardly ever do I have a whole, proper outline. That’s just how it works for me! Loads of people do have an outline and they need it in order to get anything done, so that’s just something that you’ve got to play with. AND it might vary from project to project! One could be bang, zoom, and you’re done, whereas the other could be so long and take you so long to write, that you find that you need the outline to keep things straight (the more characters involved, the more likely this is, I’ve found). 

To get out of your head and stop judging yourself… haha. I wish I had more advice for this. I think we’re always most critical of ourselves. Even when we post something because we’re proud of it, it makes us happy, and we want to share it with whomever chooses to read it, we’re still critical of ourselves. I read on an author’s blog that when writers ask agents to take a look at their books, it means they inherently think, “Yeah, ok, I think this is worth reading,” and I kind of agree, and I think that translates to posting fic. If you’re posting it, you worked on it, and you think it’s worth reading. But that doesn’t mean that the criticism ever goes away. 

Start small. You’re less likely to obsess with what works, what doesn’t, are there plot holes, etc., if there’s less space for that stuff to filter in. Bigger stories, bigger plots, more potential for holes for you to worry about and stress over. Don’t overthink it, and don’t get overwhelmed. And remember that we all feel this way (at least… don’t we?). xx

Aladdin  {Sentence Starters}

  • “You ain’t never had a friend like me!”
  • “No matter what anybody says, you’ll always be a prince to me.”
  • “No, really. On a scale of one to ten, you are an eleven.”
  • “All this for a loaf of bread?”
  • “I’m getting kinda fond of you, kid.”
  • “Like so many things, it is not what is outside, but what is inside that counts.”
  • “You’re not free to make your own choices.”
  • “I can’t make anybody fall in love with anybody else.”
  • “You have been a fabulous audience! Tell you what, you’re the best audience in the whole world.”
  • “I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought.”
  • “Looks like we’re gonna have to find a way outta here.”
  • “We just keep running into each other, don’t we?”
  • “I’m not worthless. And I don’t have fleas!”
  • “Are you afraid to fight me yourself, you cowardly snake?”
  • “And all of a sudden you’re walking out on me? I don’t think so, not right now.”
  • “You thought you could defeat the most powerful being on Earth?”
  • “Look at me from the side. Do I look different to you?”
  • “I’ve never done a thing on my own. I’ve never had any real friends.”
  • “Tragic, isn’t it? But, no harm done.”
  • “Trouble? No way. You’re only in trouble if you get caught.”
  • “You are a worthless street rat. You were born a street rat, you’ll die a street rat.”
  • “You’ve certainly proven your worth as far as I’m concerned.”
  • “Uh, rule #1: I can’t kill anybody.”
  • “We’ll be rich, live in a palace, and never have any problems at all.”
  • “Ten thousand years will give you such a crick in the neck.”
  • “I knew it! Why did you lie to me? Did you think I was stupid?”
  • “Who disturbs my slumber?”
  • “You’re speechless, I see. A fine quality in a wife.”
  • “When I am Queen, I will have the power to get rid of you.”
  • “I love the way your foul little mind works!”
Why I Love Being Autistic

“Autistic is a horrible, disgusting disease.”

No, actually – it’s not. It’s a developmental disability and it helps you experience the world in a different way. Autism is a spectrum, and everyone’s is different. I love my autism, and here’s why.

Every emotion I feel is so strong, I have to move my body. When I get happy, I jump up and down. When I’m excited, I flap my hands. When I’m nervous, I pace. When I’m distressed, I stomp my feet and bang my head. I love all of it. I love how my emotions are too strong to fit inside my body. 

I love how I notice everything. Every little detail. Every word someone says, every thing someone does – I experience it with them. I may not easily make connections with people, but I feel connected to them, even if I haven’t spoken to them.

I love my special interests. I love how I’ve memorized the entirety of British history. I love how I can list the entire British monarchy off the top of my head without pausing. I love how I know everything about the history of fashion. I love how I can watch historical movies and talk about the evolution of panniers to empire waists, and all off the top of my head. I love collecting information.

I love infodumping. I love seeing people engaged with what I’m saying. I love seeing people eagerly listen to me as I talk about my special interests.

I love how my senses work. I love how when I touch textures I can feel every fiber on my skin. I love how immersed I am in my environment. 

In short, I love my autism. 

When you stumbled out of the bar, you were lucky enough to lose the guy you had been talking with all night. Your head was spinning and it felt like your arms were made of lead, so you didn’t exactly know how you were able to lose him, but you were grateful for it. After stumbling to your car and hiding inside, you knew there was no way you can drive home, so you took out your phone. Cas would help you. Cas would get here no matter what.

But the voice who answered wasn’t the gruff voice of the angel. It had an accent, and you recognized it right away. “Y/N?” Crowley asked in confusion.

You really didn’t have enough energy to hang up and call again, so Crowley was your best bet. “Help.” You mumbled out, head against the window. “The guy put something in my drink…”

You lazily told Crowley the bar you sat in front of, and he was there the next second. You could see him outside, glancing around for your car before finally seeing it and stalking over. He slid into the passenger’s seat and leaned over towards you. “I thought you hunters were more careful than this!” He scolded, his hand going up to your forehead.

He made the dizziness go away, but your head was still a bit cloudy. You blinked multiple times, then looked sideways at Crowley. He was staring right back at you, concern evident in his eyes. “You’re okay now.” He stated with a roll of his eyes. “No thanks to those cunning instincts of yours…”

Requested by Anon~

Sickcon 101

This imagine was requested by @hogwartsfanfiction03

Hope you enjoy!


Being ill was my weakness. I mean sure, it’s lovely sitting in bed all day doing absolutely nothing but it almost seems like I have to entertain myself which by the way is very hard considering you can’t focus on anything.

I was on the main stage of Vidcon when I started feeling ill. I had to sit down because my head was spinning all over the place. Dan was on the stage with me and his face was like he’d just seen a ghost. After the meet up, we both ran straight home where I rushed to the bathroom, meeting my insides a few seconds later.

Dan was with me throughout the entire thing, holding my hair out of the way and getting me water when I needed it.

When I went to the doctors the next day, I found out I had the flu. They told me that I couldn’t go to any meet ups or stages in case it spread.

So now, I was stuck here in a little and not to mention hot, hotel room with Dan beside me scrolling through tumblr. I saw stuff like fan-art and gifs of us two in past videos which made me smile. I had got to admit, me and dan were a cute couple.

I felt bad for him though. He could go outside and enjoy the sun yet he sticks inside because of me.

“Dan, you can go outside if you want, I’ll be fine!” I sniffed, a low tone added to my voice due to my blocked nose.

Dan shut his laptop and threw it to the end of the bed “Okay one, I don’t ever go outside and two, I’m not leaving you!” He said, grinning sweetly.

“Don’t you have a meet up with Phil today?”

“Yeah but he’ll be fine, the fans will understand”

He pulled me into a bear hug, his face going into my shoulder.

It’s a bit clićhe but I felt a little better when he hugged me. Like I felt stronger and that I could do more things. I guess you could say that Dan was my superman.

For the rest of the day, me and Dan lazied about, scrolling through every social media we could find. Occasionally, Dan would pop down to the shops and get food and more tissues for me.

Maybe being ill wasn’t so bad after all..


Thanks for reading!

Requests are open!!

Originally posted by phanielhowell

Not Accepting Prompts

I think it’s better that I not accept writing prompts, because I have too many ideas banging around inside my head already & not enough time to write them all. If I get stuck, I’ll ask for prompts, but for right now just assume I’m already working on something … because I almost always am. Unless that pesky “real life” interferes. Don’t you hate it when that happens? So inconvenient! Like seriously, world, don’t get in the way of my fic writing!

silentbout  asked:

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

it’s from my memes

   He outright breathes, feels the way his skin feels. feels how his body feels like it’s lighting itself on fire, he’s tired, he’s exhausted. more importantly, he just wants to give up. he just wants to drop dead some days. his head falls to rest on the tiny man standing before him. it had been luck, absolute luck that the pair of them had even met. he was barnes’s sense of normal these days. the reason he comes back and wipes the blood off his hands.   

      “But what if I’m not, every time I think am, they find a way to get back inside my head.” He’s tired of having to run, he’s tired. He’s just trying to escape, hide from everyone that knows him. “It’d be easier not to exist sometimes you know? You’ve got it easy, you get to live your life. I haven’t been able to do that, everyone has made that choice for me.” He doesn’t move his head from the tiny blonde’s shoulder. He’s the only sense of normal Bucky’s got, and he might just be in love with the kid. 

    It’s really not his fault though. Rogers has that effect, a little tiny man but a spitfire. 

Sea Salt Sadness

It’s not that meaning has been lost, but that I don’t know what that meaning is anymore

I’ve seen both sides of the coin that’s for shining shore

I’ve been chasing my tail like a dog trying to get inside your head for far too long they said

And I’m tired…but I’m not sure why

All I know is I don’t cry

It’s like my eyes have dried and solidified; I rock back and forth between this tempest of apathy and rainfall on the inside

And nobody ever taught me to sail

I just remember low expectations alongside the crushing assumption that I’d fail

And in some ways they were right; if I told you this life raft has been a smooth ride that would be a lie

I’ve been dashed high up on rocks, dragged low in undertows, and seasick since the first goodby

So I carved a heart from a piece of wood the best I could; so that the next time loss causes my heart to sink

I can throw it into my blood stream and continue writing poems in red ink


a phoenix in the water ; “she had loved the idea of spreading truth like a fire, touching a lit candle to another candle and watching its flame come to life, until the whole world was bright and you saw everything clear.”

everybody’s doing it so why the hell should i // she’s got her ear to the walls and she’s tappin’ the calls, if you’ve got a secret, boy, forget about it // creatures seem to scream and faint, shadows blink and the laws will break // we know for sure they’re telling lies when they say no one gets hurt and therefore nobody dies // in the city where i grew up the kids are dying now // mama who gave me no way to handle things // i think i made you up inside my head // when i awoke the moon still hung, the night so black that the darkness hummed // you have a mind to keep me quiet and although you can try, better men have hit their knees and bigger men have died // despite all the fools and liars, despite all of the wars, the pursuit of liberty is still a noble cause // let your words be anything but empty, why don’t you tell them the truth? // as the cold rushes over me i wonder what is real // with every small disaster i’ll let the waters still // i’m the hero of the story, don’t need to be saved


Tristan Imagine: Hanging out with Millie

REQUEST: Heya hunnie your imagines are so good so I wondering whether I could a Tristan one. Something cute and cuddly. Haven’t been very well recently so it would make feel a bit better thank you x

It was a cold Sunday morning as I awoke to my dog bounding into my bedroom, hinting to me that he needed to go outside for a wee. 
“Good Morning mate” I said, ruffling his head and walking downstairs, letting him outside to do his business. I made myself a cup of coffee, let him back inside and then made my way upstairs to get ready.I then went to the fridge, opening it to try and find the strawberries in order to make myself a smoothie only to find that we didn’t have any.
“Jess! When we run out of strawberries please let me know!” I shouted upstairs to my room mate who replied with a grumble; clearly hungover from the night before. 

Putting on my coat, I opened the front door and made my way to the shop. The wind was bitterly cold, I kept having to fix my hat because it was constantly being blown off. Walking into the shop, I was greeted by Mrs Jenkins, the old lady who owned our local store.
“And where’s your young man today?” she enquired as I handed her the money to pay for the oddly shaped fruit.
“Oh, he’s at home I think, I might call and see how he is” I smiled, taking my change and bidding her goodbye. On my journey home, I walked past Tristan’s house and decided it would be a good idea to call, just to surprise him and pay him a cute little visit. He normally had the day off, maybe we could do something together. I shuffled up to his door and knocked a little hard, just so he’d hear. He did have a doorbell but it never worked. Hearing footsteps coming closer, I smiled and fixed myself so I at least looked somewhat attractive.
“Hey!” I smiled as the door opened, but it didn’t reveal Tristan, instead it revealed his little Sister Millie. Tristan’s parents were away at the moment, his Brother had moved out which meant that he was left to look after Millie until his parents returned home.
“Hey (Y/N), were you looking for Tris?”
“I was yeah, is he in?”
“No, he’s gone to Brad’s. Do you want to come in? He said he wouldn’t be long, you could wait here with me until he comes home”
I smiled, I didn’t really have anything better to do and it’d be fun to finally spend some time with his little sister. I’d spoken to her before but I’d never actually had a proper conversation. It’d be nice to bond with her, especially because she meant so much to Tristan. I nodded and walked into Tristan’s family home. 

There was a little bit of an awkward silence at first, none of us really knew what to do. 
“So, I’m thinking we should do some baking!” You smiled
“Oooooooh! Yes can we?!”
“Well lets go into the kitchen, see what food Tris has got in and we’ll make a cake or something? Sound like a plan?”
Eagerly she nodded and we went into the kitchen, getting out the resources we’d need to make the cake. Millie put the radio on, turning it up as we danced and sang at the top of our voices to ‘Uptown Funk’.
“DON’T BELIEVE ME JUST WATCH” We both screamed as we started doing the iconic dance from the music video. Millie took a lot of videos of us both, and photos, uploading them to Instagram and Twitter for everyone to see how crazy we were being. Eventually, the cake mix was finished so we poured it into a tin and put it into the oven to bake for 30 minutes. It was then washing up time, Millie was on cleaning duties whilst I dried the things that she’d washed. We were still singing along to the radio and dancing, when all of a sudden she threw a bowl into the water, sending it splashing all over me. My hair and my outfit was soaked.
“MILLIE!” I exclaimed, sending us both into fits of laughter, Millie crumpled up on the floor clutching her tummy because she found it too funny. I cupped my hand in the bowl of water, lifting it up quickly and sending water all over Millie. 
“(Y/N)!” She exclaimed in shock, as I burst into giggles.
This was then the start of an epic water fight between the two of us. The dishes got done in the end, but we were absolutely soaked. Looking at timer, the cake had 10 minutes left in the oven.
“I think we need to go get changed a bit, don’t you?” I muttered
“We probably should, you can borrow one of Tris’ t-shirts, he won’t mind”
Running upstairs, now singing to 'Steal My Girl’ we quickly got changed. I went into Tristan’s room, which he wouldn’t mind, it wasn’t like I hadn’t been here before, removing my jumper and putting one one of his old band t-shirts as well as his grey hoodie. It was more like a dress on me but it was cosy, which was all that mattered. I put my hair up in a messy bun, hoping it would help it to dry quicker. Suddenly the timer sounded and Millie & I ran downstairs, straight to the oven. With the oven glove on my hand, I carefully opened the door to reveal a golden brown lemon drizzle cake! 
“That smells soooooooo good” Millie whispered
“Think we did a good job there Mills!” I smiled, putting the cake on the baking tray to cool and then giving her a high five and pulling her in for a hug. 

We then went to sit in the living room, the radio still playing. 
“Yes hun?”
“My hair is still a little bit wet, you couldn’t dry it for me could you?" 
"Of course!" 
Running upstairs, Millie went to get the hairdryer as I sat and waited. She soon returned and she sat in front of me on the sofa as I knelt behind her, drying her gorgeous long blonde hair. Brushing through it and styling it into her normal style, it looked lovely. She just looked like the female version of Tristan. Thanking me, we turned the radio off and put the television on, her putting her favourite film 'Frozen’ into the DVD player. We snuggled up on the sofa with blankets and hot chocolate as we watched the movie, singing along and often doing the famous duets. 

The sound of keys in the door was heard and a voice echoed through the house "Hey Millie!”. Tristan was home. We both looked at one another with a cheeky grin on our faces. I removed myself from the blankets and went to hide myself behind the living room door as Millie tried to look as innocent as possible.
“Hey Mills, what you doing?”
“Watching Frozen! Did you have a good time at Brads?”
“Not bad, not bad”
Slowly, as they continued the conversation, I snuck out from behind the door, quietly creeping up on Tristan.
“BOO!” I shouted as I squeezed his sides together, him jumping up in terror and screaming like you would when a jumpy part happens in a horror movie and you aren’t really expecting it, Millie almost fell off her chair in fits of laughter whilst Tristan tried to recover from his little fright. 
“I fucking hate you!” He muttered, laughing a little and coming over to me, tickling my sides so I fell to the floor, begging him to stop.
“Say you love me”
“I love you now get off me you muppet”
“Love you too” He smiled, kissing my forehead and getting to his feet.
“So what have you girls been doing today then?”
“Well (Y/N) came round looking for you, but then you weren’t here so we made a cake and…”
“And (Y/N) is that my hoodie?" 
"Yeah, we um…we kinda had a little bit of a water fight” You mumbled, receiving a little smirk from Millie.

For the rest of the night, we snuggled up on the sofa watching another one of Millie’s favourite films and eating the cake that we’d made previously. I was cuddled into Tristan with a blanket over the two of us and Millie was cuddled up on the armchair with a blanket slung over her. “I like it when you wear my clothes, you look cute” Tris whispered in my ear
“I was worried you’d have gone mad”
“Nooo, I find it really attractive” He smiled, kissing my forehead and squeezing me tightly. The film continued until we heard light snores coming from the arm chair. Looking over, we saw Millie sleeping. 
“I’ll take her up” Tris muttered, quietly sneaking over and carrying her in his arms up to her room. He soon returned and made his way back under the blanket so we could both get back into a comfortable position. 
“She really likes you (Y/N)”
“Does she?”
“Oh my god yeah, she wont shut up about this day for like the next few weeks now”
“Well she’s a little cutie, I’ve enjoyed today too!”
I glanced over at the clock, 10:00pm. I only meant to go out for strawberries. 
“Tris, I should probably get home” I mumbled, moving from his grip.
“Oh no you don’t” He replied, pulling be back down so I ended up in his lap. “It’s late, you should stay here for the night”
“But Tris…”
“Please stay?”
He did have a point, it was getting dark, and it’s not like Jess would miss me anyway. I agreed and snuggled back into him as we began to watch the new series of Prison Break.