#Watch me panic and delete this after five minutes lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

elsaclack · 6 years

Note

imma just state for the record that while i really want you to get on writing the next chapter of the royalty AU, i also REALLY REALLY WANT YOU TO WRITE ANOTHER SEGMENT FROM YOUR OLD “JAKE CAN SENSE AMY’S FEELINGS” SOULMATE AU LAKSJDFLAKSDJF 😍😭💕 (idk if the old drabbles still exist online at this point but wow i think about that AU maybe once every 16 minutes, i’m a mess)

HELLOOOOOOO ERICA i’m not even sure if you remember sending this to me, it’s been sitting in my ask box for THAT LONG!!! but it’s been too long since i’ve been able to write anything i’m really REALLY proud of so i decided that tonight is the night!! and when i went to my ask box to knock out a prompt, this one literally started writing itself!!!!

lmao!!!!

SO YEAH u said another segment from the soulmates can feel each other’s emotions au and i thought what better segment to write than the one you liked the most out of the old ones that i STUPIDLY forgot to save/crosspost before i deleted!!! aka i rewrote it LMAO

it’s. Different than it was before but that’s because i had no idea what i was doing before and now i kind of have half of an idea about what i’m doing lmao it references one of the other one-shots and i’m about 95% sure i still have that one as a google doc so after i copy and paste this bad boy into a google doc, i’ll double check that i still have that other one too :-))))))))))))))

ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THIS AND THANK YOU FOR THE ROYALTY AU I PROMISE I WILL FINISH IT PLEASE ACCEPT THIS AS AN APOLOGY FOR BEING SO FREAKING LATE ON UPDATING LMAO

Amy’s front door is incredibly old.

There are places between the grains of wood in which the paint has seeped and morphed together before it dried, Jake notes.

He’s been staring at said grains for the better part of five minutes now - or, at least, that’s how long he’s been aware of the fact that he’s been staring at said grains. It’s really stupid, all things considered. Stupid that he’s paralyzed on her doorstep when he’s trudged across it more times than he can count. Stupid that he’s been standing her motionless for so long, he’s certain he looks like a weird stalker to any of her neighbors who might be looking through their peepholes out into the hall. Stupid that with every second that passes, the ice cream in this plastic bag melts a little more.

Stupid that every time he inhales, he feels her split and aching heart, feels her loneliness, feels her bitterness, all as real and intimate as if they are his own.

Something happened half an hour ago. He’s not entirely sure what - hasn’t tried sussing it out beyond the initial bombardment - all he really knows is that he was home, on his couch, content with his Jurassic Park with limited commercial interruptions, and then it felt like the whole earth was falling to pieces and he knew.

So maybe he is sure about what happened - she’d mentioned as she left the precinct earlier that she had dinner plans with Teddy tonight. And it’s odd, how beyond his immediate concern for her, he feels his own undeniable sense of hope rising. His soulmate - who doesn’t know she’s his soulmate - is single once again.

Finally.

Maybe, he’d told himself as he mindlessly snatched his keys off the counter and jogged out of his apartment. Maybe.

“Amy?” He calls as he raps his knuckles against the door. Her emotions flicker in a familiar rhythm against his breast - a split-second of surprise, a mix of confusion and apprehension, a lick of irritation. “Ames, it’s me. You home?”

(Of course he knows she’s home, but this is all for her benefit, he’s not going to come gallivanting in ten minutes into her single-hood toting ice cream and a declaration of his undying love and an oh, yeah, I’ve been meaning to tell you I’m your soulmate -)

Her apprehension and irritation are gone now, giving way to a much larger portion of pure confusion. “Jake?” he hears her voice moving, muffled, but close beyond the closed door. The light seeping out through the peephole flickers as her head moves by. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. “Your drug store had a better deal on ice cream - two-for-one.” He hoists the bag up a little higher, as if the opaque brown plastic will back his claim. “I figured since I was already in the neighborhood, I’d come by with dessert.”

Her confusion grows more intense - the light has not returned to the peephole. “I told you I had a date tonight,” she says slowly.

He’s lucky she can’t feel his emotions - otherwise, she’d register the spike of panic jutting up in his chest. “Oh, that was tonight?” His voice cracks beneath the pressure of his scrambling ruse; the skin of his forehead is in danger of ripping for how grotesquely his brows have contorted into what he can only hope is an expression of shock. “I thought you said that was tomorrow!”

“No, tonight.”

“Maybe it really is time to invest in one of those planny-thingies.”

“Why, so you can keep track of my date schedule? And don’t pretend like you don’t know they’re called planners, you got me one for Secret Santa last year.” There’s a savagery to her tone echoed by a twist of pain in her chest; he opens his mouth, but her immediate pulse of regret gives him pause. “I’m sorry,” she says, now much quieter, and he can’t pretend to hide his concern any longer.

(It’s not like he’d have to work that hard to come up with an excuse - she’s practically an open book, especially to him, even with a closed door between them, and it certainly doesn’t help that he’s an amazing detective-slash-genius.)

“Are you okay?”

The pain in her chest seems to wrench a little wider, pierce a little deeper. “I don’t know,” she says, and the light in the peephole reappears a split-second before something solid thunks against the door from the other side.

(Her forehead, he’d be willing to bet.)

“Do you want me to leave?”

The part of her that seems to jump at that suggestion is a bit of a blow to his ego, but it’s nothing compared to what the skittish panic that flares to life the moment the question leaves his lips does. He hears her sigh again - hears the metallic sounds of a hand landing on the doorknob - hears silence. And then -

“No.”

- so small and quiet, he almost misses it.

“Do you want me to come inside?”

“I don’t know.”

And she really doesn’t, he notes.

“I promise I won’t judge,” he offers. “You don’t even have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to. If - if something, y’know, uh, happened. You don’t have to talk at all, we can just - we can sit and watch TV and eat ice cream and I can run my mouth until it’s just like white noise.”

She’s quiet as she deliberates. “What kind of ice cream?”

“Cherry Garcia, obviously.”

A pulse of gratitude and affection and something else he doesn’t exactly have a name for warms his chest as the lock on her front door slides out of place. “I just - I need to warn you,” she says before she opens the door. “Don’t say a word.”

She opens the door before he has a chance to clarify, and the moment she does he understands - it’s clear that she’s been crying. And he well and truly hates himself for the first thought that pops into his stupid reptilian brain:

She is the most beautiful person that has ever existed.

Her cheeks are red - rubbed raw from her swiping fingers and probably tissues to blot away any running mascara that streaked down toward her jawline. There are no tears glistening in her eyes or clinging like dew drops to her eyelashes, but the whites of her eyes are still a little bloodshot, and the browns of her pupils are intense pools of chocolate that seem to pierce his very soul in the brief split-second she allows herself to meet his gaze. Even her lips look darker than usual - probably stains leftover from whatever lipstick she’d so carefully drawn on just to haphazardly wipe away.

It honestly takes him a minute to even register the fact that her hair is thrown up in a knotted, wild bun, and that her frame is essentially hidden beneath the baggy layers of a massively over-sized Cheap Trick concert t-shirt and the rattiest grey sweatpants he’s ever laid eyes on. All in all, he’s very obviously walked into the immediate aftermath of an Amy Santiago break-up.

And she is the most beautiful person that has ever existed.

“I said don’t say a word.” she repeats, this time through grit teeth. He panics for a split second, ready to dump the ice cream on the floor and fling himself out the window if he’d subconsciously spoken that totally stalker-esque monologue out loud, before his awareness catches up to him and he realizes he’s been staring. Motionless and staring, actually. Or, well, more like motionless and gaping and staring. A quick assessment of her emotions confirms, she’s not feeling shock - she’s embarrassed and self-conscious. She thinks he’s judging her.

Well that simply won’t do.

“I’m just waiting for you to go turn the TV on so I can get spoons,” he says as he gestures toward the kitchen, hoping his bravado sounds more natural than it feels.

Suspicion has joined the maelstrom of emotions storming through her chest, but it only seems to manifest in her slightly narrowed eyes; she backs away a pace, and then two, before finally turning away and trotting out into her living room. He releases the breath still caught in his chest in one quick huff, and shakes his head as if to clear the cotton suddenly stuffed there as he makes his way toward her silverware drawer.

“It’s the third drawer to the right of the dishwasher,” he hears her call as he pulls the drawer open.

“I know,” he says, letting an ounce of indigence color his voice. “You think I don’t know where your silverware is?”

“I don’t know!” she says, and not for the first time he’s so grateful that she’s his soulmate - otherwise he’d be left wondering if she was kidding beneath the miles-thick layer of outrage ringing with her words, instead of feeling that little bud of amusement in the center of everything else. “Teddy never figured out where it was and we dated for nearly a year, you’ve only been over here, like, ten times!”

He’s also thankful for the wall standing between them at this moment - the wall that covers his involuntary wince, accented by stabbing the spoons through both pliant ice cream surfaces at the same time. “Well,” he says as he gracefully lifts both ice cream cartons and eases the drawer closed with his hip at the same time, “that’s the difference between me and Ted-odore - I’m a detective. I remember details.”

Her expression is equal parts disgruntled, thankful, and annoyed when he makes his way into her living room. “Teddy’s also a detective,” she reminds him as she plucks her carton of ice cream from his hand.

“Ah, but only I am an amazing detective-slash-genius,” he reminds her. They sit at the same time - her carefully, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch over one shoulder and folding a leg under her in one movement, him flopping back, the force of his body connecting with the cushions just short of hard enough to jostle the narrow table behind the couch.

It’s the end of the conversation for quite a while - long enough that they get through an entire episode of The Office without interruption, long enough that half of his ice cream is gone and his fingers are well and truly numb. It’s just long enough that he knows she’s absorbed in what she’s watching - her eyes never deviate from the screen, and the inner turmoil seems to quiet down to some distant back-burner in her mind. Just long enough, he thinks, for him to do a little surreptitious investigating from right here on her couch, without her ever noticing.

He turns to his right, away from her, pretending to cast around on the table behind the couch for a coaster upon which to set his ice cream. He already knows there’s a stack of three on the coffee table eight inches from his knees - the fourth is on the other side of the coffee table, beneath Amy’s quarter-finished ice cream - but he also happens to know that she has a nice set of geode-looking coasters stacked neatly on this table, equal parts artistic and utilitarian, and (if he’s not mistaken) identical to the ones he’d spotted at Captain Holt’s house some eighteen months earlier.

He pretends to grapple for them - they’re two inches to the right of where his hand is currently grasping - all while studying the scene laid out on the dining room table just visible from this angle. There are still dishes there - dirty dishes, if he’s not mistaken - which is, of course, highly uncharacteristic for the woman to whom they belong. It’s clear the meal was in progress when...something happened. Something abrupt and unexpected, something shocking - something that clearly rocked her to her very core, drudging up feelings of isolation and loneliness and a few others he recognizes from the dark weeks that followed his father leaving all those years ago.

He’s practically bursting at the seams with desperation to know why.

The light piano theme song plays over the end credits just as Amy loudly and pointedly clears her throat, and he winces as his fingers close over the coaster he was seeking. “You’re not as sly as you think you are, Mr. Genius,” she mutters as he rights himself on the couch again.

He sighs as he leans forward to set his coaster and carton on her coffee table. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he reiterates, and he knows from her quiet calm resonating near his heart that she truly understands that he means it. “I just - y’know, I wanna, um. Make sure that you’re okay, and stuff.”

She doesn’t look at him. The next episode is already queuing, seconds away from starting automatically, but her eyes are now glazed as she chews the inside of her cheek. Movement by her hip catches his eye - her fingers drum restlessly along the side of the remote, the only outward sign of her visceral inner turmoil, now back to center stage.

“I wanna talk about it,” she says haltingly, thumb mashing down on the pause button. “I do, I - I need to talk about it. I just -”

- don’t want to, he finishes in his mind after she falls silent again. Even if he didn’t have a front-row seat to the weighing of emotions happening in her gut, he could easily follow through her facial expressions - even the nano-expressions, the ones that really don’t even fully register before they’re gone, replaced by the next.

“It - it sucks, okay?” she finally says. “This whole situation just sucks.”

He remains silent.

“We were, like ten minutes into dinner and everything was going fine. I was telling him about that perp Charles and I took out behind the bakery earlier, and how Charles refused to leave the scene until he’d sampled literally everything the bakery sold, and when I looked up I realized he’d spilled wine all over himself while I was talking but he hadn’t even noticed it because - because -”

She draws in a ragged inhale; he can feel it dragging like knives across his heart.

“I’ve never heard of a connection manifesting that late in someone’s life,” she says after a moment of composition. “I mean - I know it’s possible, obviously, I’ve read articles about it and everything, but I’ve never known anyone who’s had that happen to them. It’s always young kids to teenagers, that’s when it’s most common for the connection to start - Teddy’s thirty-seven years old. He didn’t think he was the receptive one in his partnership. He didn’t think he had a partner. But he does, and he felt them for the first time half-way through my story about Charles shotgunning a croissant. And it wasn’t me.”

The silence is thick and swelling in his head, and the temptation to scream the truth is almost overwhelming for all of two seconds. He’s not certain he would have been able to keep his composure, if not for her stark feelings of inadequacy roiling with her heartache radiating through his chest.

“That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you,” he starts, far more tentatively than he would like. She rolls her eyes. “Hey, I mean it. There’s nothing wrong with you, Amy.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she mutters, “you’ve felt your soulmate since you were seven years old. All I’ve had for my entire life is radio silence. Every single one of my brothers is the receptive one in their partnerships. I’m the only one of all my siblings. My parents had already met and were dating as teenagers when their connection started. I am literally the only person in my immediate family who doesn’t feel a connection. It’s not that outlandish to assume I’m the defect, here.”

“Maybe you’re just not the receptive one,” he counters, determination growing with every ounce of inwardly-focused disdain he feels pouring through her very veins. “Maybe there’s someone out there right now who can feel everything you’re feeling, who’s hurting just as bad as you are because you’re hurting so bad right now. Maybe there’s someone who’s been looking for you for his entire life, who’s looking that much harder so he can prove to you that you’re not defective, you’re not a mistake, you’re not worthless.” She’s staring at him full-on now, brows furrowed, intently focused on his every word. “You’re one of the kindest, most thoughtful and amazing people I know, Ames. Your soulmate is out there and as soon as you find each other, I promise, this will all be worth the wait. Don’t be so mean to yourself because some chump missed out on the opportunity of a lifetime so he can go out hunting for a soulmate while covered in red wine stains. Okay?”

She seems to hesitate, before the corners of her mouth twitch against a smile. “Okay,” she says softly.

He’s not sure how and he’s not sure why, but he does know one thing: something in the air has shifted.

He isn’t able to put a name to it until three weeks later, when he finds himself back in that very same apartment on that very same couch, the very same ice cream in his hands, the very same episode queued up and ready to start on the television somewhere off to his right. He’s paying it very little attention, in all honesty - he’s far too enthralled by the gorgeous woman in the red dress on the other end of the couch, toeing off her heels beneath her coffee table and settling in in much the same position as before.

(Save for the silky black curls swept over one shoulder so as not to drip ice cream in them, of course.)

He’s watching her shift, watching the kinetic energy burn through her rolling ankles and curling toes and twitching nose and drumming fingers. She seems intently focused on her ice cream - the very same carton from which she’d eaten the last time he was here - but he knows there’s a level of awareness of his gaze on her.

Just as she knows that he knows.

It hits him here, in this moment: she knew.

“You knew,” he says. Her eyes flick up to his face and all at once, his suspicions are confirmed. “You knew!”

“Knew what?”

“The last time I was here, before I left, I felt something change. I couldn’t figure out what it was, but now I know - you knew I was your soulmate before I left that night, didn’t you?”

It’s the first time they’ve really talked about it since their confrontation in the evidence lock-up - since the electrifying kiss that followed it - and as her smile blossoms, her amusement peaks. “I had a feeling,” she corrects.

“What gave it away?”

“What, you mean how did I know? The kiss was a pretty good hint -”

“Yeah, but you weren’t really shocked after that. I mean, you were, but - not about it being me. What gave me away?”

“I knew three days ago when we were raiding the warehouse and I got ambushed by that guy and you came flying in before he could even pin me to the wall. But I had a feeling after you gave your little speech about how I’m basically the greatest human being on the planet and you mentioned my soulmate feeling emotions that I know I didn’t put into words.”

“Damn it,” he mutters, letting his shoulders fall back against the cushions behind him. She laughs, delighted, and the sound is like pure sunlight bubbling between his ribs. “After all these years, I can’t believe I just straight slipped up. Right to your face, too! I’d always assumed it would be Charles who screwed up.”

A wave of surprise washes over her, but she suppresses it a moment later. “We’ll talk more later,” she says with a smile. “Right now, I wanna try something else.”

She leans forward to set her carton on her coaster and a second later she pounces, pinning him back against the cushions, hovering over him. Her grin has gone Cheshire and her fingers are closing over his before pulling his own carton out of his hand; he releases a breathless laugh as she leans away, just far enough to reach the coffee table, before resuming her position over him. “This is new,” he says.

“It is,” she confirms. “Also new? You feeling unsure of something.”

“Hey,” he snaps, “I’m always unsure of things. You’ve never known because I’m good at hiding it.”

“Not anymore.”

She leans down before he can respond, until her lips are a breath away from his. He can feel his heart tripping in his chest and he knows she can feel it, too - breathless anticipation radiates and sparks like a livewire between them, igniting every last nerve ending, like a fuse lit seconds away from exploding. “Whoa,” he chokes, hands fumbling before landing on her hips.

“Intense,” she breathes back, apparently to enthralled by the build-up to dare take the plunge. “Did it always feel like this?”

“Never actually done this before,” he mutters.

She pulls back an inch - just far enough for him to see her roll her eyes in accompaniment with her wave of exasperation crashing through his chest. “I just mean - this, us, our - our connection. Was it always this intense?”

“No,” he shakes his head, acutely aware of the fact that his hands are still on her hips and he can feel the heat of her skin through the red material. “N-no, never. I mean - when you were feeling something intense, it was kind of strong? But now that it’s a two-way street, so to speak, it’s - everything is way more intense. Especially this.”

She hums thoughtfully, gaze fixated on a spot on the cushion just over his left shoulder, before she suddenly seems to remember herself and where she is. He grins up at her when she blinks herself back into focus - and the twist of affection in her chest is almost cruel for how blinding and savage it is.

“Wow,” she breathes, lifting up a little higher to press her fingertips to her sternum.

“Sorry,” he mumbles a bit sheepishly. “I just - I’m really into you.”

“I can feel that,” she says with a laugh. Her hand falls from her chest much closer to his face than before; he briefly closes his eyes at the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair, part curious, part reverent. “I’m really into you, too.”

He grins again before lightly pinching her hip, laughing when she thumps both heels of her hands against his chest in retaliation. “I can feel that,” he echoes before bending his knees, bringing her teetering forward, back to her original position of a breath away from his lips. This time he cranes his head up to catch her before she can draw back; like both times before, the meld of her lips against his brings everything else to a screeching halt. Her hands splay out gently on either side of his face as his slide up the dips of her waist to skim up her back, thumbs sweeping out over the defined ridge of her lowest ribs.

She pulls away after an eternity, after a split second, lips dark and shiny as she gasps for air; she closes her eyes when he reaches up to move her hair back over her shoulder, so that nothing impedes his view of her face. “You were right,” she mumbles breathlessly.

“Huh?”

“You were right,” she repeats, with a little more conviction than before. “This was worth the wait. You were worth the wait.”

It’s the last coherent thing either one of them says until morning.

#my b99 fics #brooklyn nine nine #jake x amy #peraltiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #soulmate au!!!#erica gives the basic gist of the set up in her ask lmao #ANYWAYS PLS ENJOY #startofamoment

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honeycombcal · 6 years

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Stressed Out

A/N: I’ve been having a really shitty time mentally lately. It feels like school has been extra overwhelming, I’m overthinking literally every little thing, and I hate not knowing where I stand with people. So, I wrote this short lil thing to calm me down and try to help boost my spirits. I was actually struggling super hard with a manuscript for my English workshop class so that’s where this idea came from. I need this so bad!!! lmao I’ll stop rambling but I hope you guys enjoy and I’m sorry I’ve been so shitty about posting lately. thank you for bearing with me💛 enjoy some Calum fluff xx

My hands run through my hair for what seems like the thousandth time in the last five minutes, my scalp tingling as I pulled at the roots. Taking a deep breath, I tried again to type out the final scene in my manuscript. I made it a paragraph in before I realized it was garbage, and it took every ounce of self control not to throw my laptop across the library from the table I was seated at. My head fell into my hands as I desperately tried to control my breathing as well as my racing thoughts. My eyes were beginning to burn with unshed tears threatening to spill over. My first breakdown of the semester was overdue, but damn, did it have to be in the fucking library? I exhaled a shuddering breath when my phone began to buzz with an incoming call. It was a FaceTime call from my boyfriend, Calum. Seeing his name alone was enough to send the tears running down my cheeks, so I quickly pulled my sweatshirt sleeves over my hands to wipe them away before accepting his call.

“Hi,” I whisper once the call connects, readjusting my headphones slightly. No one else is around, but I didn’t want to disrupt anyone that I couldn’t see.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Cal asks, his dark brows furrowing. I see that he’s sitting on the couch of our apartment, and I wish for nothing more than to be able to join him.

“Hmm? It’s nothing, just a little stressed,” I sigh, glancing at my picture on the screen to make sure I didn’t miss any tears.

“Manuscript?” he asks knowingly, and I give him a sad smile before nodding.

“You’re overthinking it, love. You are such a talented writer,” he praises, his slight accent making my heart race even after all this time. I let out a breathy laugh at his compliment.

“I don’t know. I’m starting to regret picking this topic,” I sulk, feeling the tears return.

“Why don’t you come home? You’ve been gone for hours,” he suggests, tilting his head slightly.

“I want to, believe me. But I have to get this scene done,” I glance back at my laptop, the words on the screen frustrating me and bringing back my anxiety. Calum juts out his plump bottom lip in a pout that makes me smile.

“I know. I’m sorry,” I sigh.

“It’s okay, baby. Just work on something else for a little bit, get your mind off of it and come back fresh,” his dark eyes search my face as I nod. I just wanted to go home and curl up next to him on the couch with Duke and watch a movie. But this had to get done.

“I will. I’ll be home soon... hopefully,” I cross my fingers in front of the camera so he could see. He chuckles, his eyes crinkling.

“I have faith in you, love. You’re gonna kill the final edit,” he gives me a soft smile, my favorite smile.

“I love you,” I tell him, making his smile grow.

“I love you,” he responds before we exchange goodbyes and hang up.

I exit out of the Google doc that I’m working on and try to work on something else, just like Calum suggested. I go to my music library on my phone and put it on shuffle, diving into my work and praying that I can get this scene done before the library closes.

It had been about an hour since my FaceTime call with Calum and I had finally decided to try to come back to my manuscript. As I opened up the Google doc once more, I felt that same panic and dread wash over me at what I had written last. I immediately deleted it, wanting to start fresh in every aspect.

I fiddled with my pen, twirling it around while I thought about how I wanted to begin. I love writing; it’s extremely therapeutic for me and once I get started, it’s hard to get me to stop. But that was the problem: getting started. I pursed my lips, my eyes staring blankly at my screen. A movement that I caught in the corner of my eye distracted me, and when I looked over, I couldn’t help my sharp intake of breath.

There was Calum, dressed in his black Adidas joggers, black and white checkered Vans, and a black sweater, carrying a couple of grocery bags over to the table I sat at. He glances up, his dark eyes meeting mine and giving me a smile. He makes it over to the table, setting the bags down a bit louder than he intended which makes us both wince before I giggle.

“What are you doing here? What’s all this?” I whisper, opening up the bag nearest to me. It held all my favorite candy: Twix, peanut M&M’s, Skittles, and more. I gaped up at him as he gave me that shy smile, a tint of red washing over his cheeks.

“I wanted to make you feel better. I know how stressed out you’ve been lately with all your schoolwork and I’m not much help in that department, so I thought I’d try something different,” he says softly, sitting down in the chair across from me and pulling a bag into his lap.

“I got you some of that stress relieving lotion, and the bath stuff, but I left that at home,” he tells me as he pulls out the bottle of lotion to show me. “Um, what else… oh, I got you your favorite ice cream but that obviously is at home too- I got the big carton,” he winks.

“I got you a new fuzzy blanket and some fuzzy socks, I know how much you love those. I bought a couple of new movies for us to watch whenever you have the time or whenever you just need a break. Got a candle too, you know, the one that makes the house smell like pumpkin pie? Oh, speaking of pumpkin, I got those fun little Halloween cookies for us to make too...:” he rambles, and I feel my bottom lip start to quiver.

“Baby? What’s wrong, did I get the wrong stuff?” Calum stops, searching my face as I try my hardest to stop the tears that are threatening to spill over.

“No, no… Cal, you did everything right,” I tell him, my wavering voice betraying me. He gives me a sad smile before coming to sit by my side, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me into his side.

“I don’t deserve you, thank you,” I murmur, turning into his neck and pressing my lips to his soft skin. He chuckles as I feel him shake his head.

“It’s what I’m here for, love,” he says softly, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of my head and stroke my hair, something he knew helped calm me down.

“Now, get back to your writing so we can go home and use all that stuff,” he tells me after a few minutes of me cuddling into him, and now it’s my turn to chuckle.

I pull away from him, looking into those kind eyes that I love to get lost in. He raises his eyebrows at me before I smile, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his plump, pink lips. He relaxes against me, bringing his hands up to cup my face. The cold of his rings send shivers down my spine, and I can’t help the content sigh that escapes me as he pulls back.

“Love you, bug,” he tells me softly, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. I lean into his touch, letting my eyes flutter closed once more.

“I love you more.”

tags: @cxddlyash @calum-hood @toofadedtofight

#hcc masterlist #masterlist #calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfiction #calum 5sos #calum hood fluff #calum hood fanfic #calum imagine #calum 5 seconds of summer #5sos #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #michael clifford #ashton 5sos #luke 5sos #michael 5sos

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cosmospoons · 6 years

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House MD season 2

30 second episode recaps from someone whos just watched em for the first time and has bad recall

Ep1: they gotta cure the death row dude so he can go back to death row to b killed, cameron is Bad at telling ppl they're dying, house n Wilson had lunch with the coma guy, they cured death row man, also they changed the theme and I hate it Ep2: House has hayfever lmao, this cancer girl with hallucinations is honestly just the coolest she's so positive I love her, shes nine and got chase to kiss her hero,, house an Wilson have a shared balcony amazing, Wilson is so good and pure and is amazing at his job holy shit I love this man. House actually 'temporarily killed' the patient to cure her and made people run drills on a dead man. House is 400% going to buy a motorbike Ep3: i prayed for Cuddy's handyman to fall off her roof past the window and then god answered my prayers and he did, house broke into Cuddy's house mainly to look at her underwear lbr and then won the 'can we chop off his arm' argument, house secretly speaks spanish and waited for the most dramatic moment to reveal this, they gate crashed a cock fight (ayy) and saved the patient Ep4: the patient is a doctor with an ego ((according to house lmao pot, kettle)) who wanted to sit in on the diagnostic process and honestly is actually full of himself,, house puts him on a tippy table and cranks it up, foreman made a patient cry except he was pretending to be house lmao house got in shit,, Cameron needs to stop please, can the patient get his head out his arse please. house gatecrashes the press conference that the patient called and managed to put him into cardiac arrest on live television and eventually cured him of everything cept bein a knob Ep5: Wilson's handwriting is such doctor handwriting and house definitely bought a motorbike and made Wilson pay for it he's so pleased with himself. The kid keeps getting electrocuted but like,, by his own body. House is avoiding his parents but Cameron n Wilson aren't letting him get away with it. I love house n Wilson's friendship so much it's worth 5k apparently lmao. These patients are fukin serial liars jc why are ppl like this, it was rADIATION wow houses dad is a fucking DICK. There were so many good interactions and the house/wilson ship is sailing Ep6: there was a cyclist who took a LOT of drugs which turned out to be curing him of the thing he had, house is a douchebag but we all knew that - he may b a dick to mark but m sure mark deserves it n I love him anyway. Wilson remains a sweet boy even if he cheats idgaf he's adorable look at him ((wilson: i net someone who made me feel funny, me: was it hOUSE)),, he n house are balcony buddies and house shud stop stealing his food, and he should definitely stop digging thru stacys life but actually fuck it why not he's not gunna let go of this why is she so pissy i wanna know Ep7: I love houses new pet rat Steve McQueen,, Wilson is 4000% done with houses Stacy related antics which is fair tbh he should stop but I actually don't give much of a shit about Stacy I've taken against her....he did deserve what she said after reading her file tho. The patient may have given Cameron aids and Cameron got high and slept with Chase, who she may have given aids lmao these ppl r messes but not as much of a mess as that father/son relationship jc...i dont remember anything else about the patient whoops Ep8: chase is being suuuueeeeddd and he keeps lying about why lmao,, house fuckin reamed him one which was probably called for but maybe not like that, turns out chase screwed up cus his dad died and foreman is houses boss ((supervisor)) now how well do u think that's gunna work (((not very))) Stacy's still a bitch and has ~~feelings~~ Ep9: foreman is in charge and house is doing his utmost best to be the dick of the year and it's fucking hilarious honestly I love this man the shit he pulls jc,,, Wilson is super aware of houses antics as usual and had a mild gay panic when foreman started to question him about house,, the patient was a big ol Faker™ but surprise surprise she was actually sick this time ((house totally injected her with a load of stuff so she’d b readmitted after they’s released her)) Ep10: house solved a case thru the phone alone and spent most of the ep at the airport except for those five minutes when he almost slept with Stacy who once had a terrible experience with curry apparently and called house a vindaloo, nice restraint very well timed phone call thank fuck,,, they will sleep together tho and I am Not Happy about it....the power play amongst the fellows is a boiling pot of trouble - the patient was v interesting I enjoyed the word scramble game Ep12: WHAT A GOOD FUCKIN EP so the patient orgasmed in the white chamber while unconscious and covered in burns but more importantly house gatecrashed the lecture of his old archenemy that he had arranged just so he could disturb it and criticise the dude who got him thrown out of med school for snitchin on his cheating all whilst Wilson told him to get better hobbies (('a hooker anything please')),, to test this dudes migraine meds he gave deliberately himself a migraine and the meds didn't work (unsurprising) so the fellows turned out all the lights while he had a nap under the table,, wilson took a diff approach and deliberately made a Lot of noise because he is a Shit even if he hides it better than house,,,, then house dropped a tab of acid and took a bunch of antidepressants, and cured his migraine as well as the patient Ep13: houses leg was super duper sore but at least we got some fantastic house/wilson interaction when wilson pretended to be God during that MRI, even if house hit him with a cane.... The patient was a teen supermodel who seduced her own father to get whatever she wanted,, house was super sure she had cancer and it turns out she did but it was testicular because she had xy chromosomes and was immune to testosterone - which was really fucking interesting...... Also cuddy played house like a violin and gave him placebo saline instead of a morphine shot to prove to him that his leg pain was psychological Ep14: House is stealing organs now. Ok so technically he did get the husband's permission to steal his newly dead wife’s heart for the dying old dude with a strangely young daughter but only after he kneed house in the balls super hard. House spent the whole ep goin on at wilson about the affair he thought he was having and at the end wilson showed up on houses doorstep but sURPRIse !! It was his wife who was sleeping around!! poor baby Wilson I know what goes around comes around but he's such a kicked puppy cmon Ep15: Wilson and house living together is a recipe for disaster and I'm living for it so good so many good interactions I love that house is gunna keep him for his food ((I'll never b over house hearing the voicemail about Wilson's new place, looking over at him sleeping on the couch and then deleting it so he has to stay)). The patient had a super cool marriage and didn't have lupus except whoops actually not a happy marriage his wife is tryna kill him thru gold poisoning. House needs to stop accosting ppl in bathrooms and should also stop destroying marriages Ep16: oh man good shit so,, first of all house n Wilson are still living together and there are some Domestic Antics happening right here including but not limited to a prank war which house desperately tried to get Wilson to participate in, the peak of which had house making Wilson wet the couch and Wilson sabotaging houses cane. The patients mum was ridiculously overprotective and house essentially kidnapped the patient to find the tick noone else thought was there,, surprisingly Wilson helped set that up despite the fact house was the reason he woke up wet that morning Ep17: first things first house could absolutely clean everyone out at poker if he knows Cuddy's tells that well through just a phonecall,, also he needs to stop calling Wilson out on his toenail varnish habits lmao. The patient was a smol boy who presented the same symptoms as an unsolved and dead case that house had 12 yrs ago so he really wasn't gunna let this one go cus he's like a dog with a bone. They were in formal wear all ep which was a Good Look™ and Wilson's retelling of how he won the poker championship may have been one of the cutest things I have ever seen Ep18: Emma from Glee is here and she has the black plague,, her gf decided to donate her liver n Cameron was all het up cus house had worked out plague girl was gunna leave her and sending the gf in blind would be ~~unethical~~ but turns out she knew and deliberately did that so Emma would stay with her out of guilt lmao. In other news Cameron's pissy cus foreman 'stole' her article and house spent most of the episode napping cus wilson is fuckin up his sleep cycle ;) I'm upset there was no physical wilson Ep19: the most annoying patient so far appears in the form of a 15 yr old faith healer with herpes. I feel like the degree to which unrelenting niceness irritates me rly says something about me but eh oh well. Chase (ofc it was chase) kept a tally on who was winning God or house, faith healer managed to shrink a womans cancer tumour through giving her herpes (((a miracle praise be))) and during poker night house called wilson out on sleeping with said cancer patient and discovered wilson was actually living with her whoops bad Wilson ((he totally regrets his life choices ((he should)))) Ep20: HOLY SHIT ITS A TWOPARTER AND FOREMANS GUNNA DIE !! Ok so,,, there was this cop who couldn't stop laughing till he could but then it got a lot worse and then foreman caught whatever it was which they began to realise when he smirked as house shot a corpse to see what a bullet in a brain would do to an MRI ((spoilers it broke the machine)) anyway long story short it wasnt the pigeons and the cops dead and foreman is gunna die even after that shitdick move he pulled where he stabbed Cameron with a needle so she'd go to the apartment Ep21: HOO BOY OK SO a lot happened so much happened the most important thing is foreman by the end of the ep is mostly kind of ok - he's just a bit muddled on his lefts n rights. During the ep house was stressed the entire time cus even tho he denys it he does love n care for his ducklings,, he even cares enough to deliberately attempt to poison Steve McQueen which didn't work but can be added to the list of stressful events. Cameron grew a spine a lil bit I literally yelled when she berated cuddy and she forced the biopsy cus foreman had the foresight (ayyyyy) to make her his medical proxy even if house managed to find the problem anyway so it was ultimately unnecessary and has just resulted in some possible brain damage Ep22: house keeps trying to pick a fight with foreman and failing because Foreman's all happy go lucky now, the patient was mad because of a thing and killed her baby accidentally on purpose, the music that played during the baby autopsy was super unnecessary and bizzare, and in the end the woman had cancer but she's refusing treatment cus of the baby guilt. Cuddy didn't have cancer, which we know because Wilson ((WILSON NOT HOUSE)) stole her dna and ran secret tests in the middle of the night, but it still wasn't a date Wilson despite what house said about skin lessions she was actually just going to attempt to use u as a sperm donor - have fun at the L-word marathon with house you big sad loser (I love u) Ep23: we meet an old house friend which is Super fun he is ridiculously naive and I love that he calls house g-man holy shit. House is now giving cuddy injections as part of a fertility treatment which is nice of him especially seeing as his leg was in a Lot of pain this ep,, like a LOT...he's self-injecting morphine now which is probably bad :/ house's friend's daughter was the patient at one point she pooped out her mouth gRoSs and house ran a paternity test n told the girl she was actually the dudes daughter ((except he was lYINg in support of his friend)) he does care Ep24: HOUSE GOT SHOT WHAT IS IT WITH THIS TEAM SUFFERING RN JC this was a very fun episode of 'guess when house is hallucinating', spoilers the answer is all the time the whole ep takes place in his head. That aside I absolutely loved the hospital gown/trainer combo (no I won't apologize) and the fact that house did almost none of his physio - instead relegating it to others which is....not how it works. The hallucinatory clinic patient was freaky deaky his eye exploded and so did his dick but dw cus to escape the hallucination house killed him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ what can u do. At the end house woke up n requested ketamine we'll see how that goes

Season 1

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