#“HOW THESE GUYS ARE STILL ALIVE” I've been asking this question ever since I re-watched the show back in May 2024- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pliablehead · 6 months ago

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Heyo, what do you consider the top 5 must-watch EE interviews???

I AM SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS and I think it's because I really don't have a proper answer!! So much of my deep dive into EE was done in one long hyperfixation spiral back when I was first getting fangirl-level into them, a good 6 or 7 years ago, and so I'm running into the problem of most of the interview content I've consumed all sort of homogenizing into one sort of blur of Lore that I've internalized and I am not doing a great job at separating out into its individual components! So, that said, the following list is probably not in line with what I'd actually ultimately believe to be the best, most crucial ones--it's just the ones my brain can call to mind at the moment. lol. BUT HERE ARE SOME:

serious/insightful: • Jon and Alex for Tape Notes podcast. (so not a must-watch so much as a much-listen, but there are a few individual clips from this on youtube in video form as well I believe.) RDF is my favorite EE album and I thought this was a hugely interesting look into their writing process and also had a bunch of cool personal stuff in it! Plus, I think it's a very good look at who the band are, like, "now" -- there's a lot of great content around from MA up through GTH, but by the time they were on album 4 and all like, 30+, and especially once covid hit and sort of changed the trajectory of like.. bands, in general, I feel like it's just been a different animal re: regular interviews etc. • this 2013 3-parter with Jonathan. It's been ages since I watched it but I remembered it almost immediately, and for some reason I'm remembering it as an oddly vulnerable Jon moment. just talking about things. (more good band lore! etc.)

funny/meme-y: • Mike and Jez at Isle of Wight. Unlike many others, I could not possibly count how many times I have rewatched this, and it is funny every time. The interviewer is a buffoon asking totally clueless questions and Jez is having absolutely none of it, he's just chomping his chewing gum the entire time, Mike's doing his best, it destroys me. • Mike and Jez look at memes. Less interview-y and more just #content but whoever edited this video did a TOP NOTCH JOB and it's one I often show to not-in-this-fanbase friends that can still be a fun look at the band and a good laff. • This very sweet one with Alex and Mike being interviewed by a literal child. Contains the infamous "Jeremy, and yes," which is one of my most quoted EE-related sentences ever • this Man Alive track-by-track, also audio only.. the BITS that Jon and Alex are doing. truly incredible stuff

just lads having a nice time :) : • the CAPSLOCK ON talkback - lots of pleasant band and lyric insight, and a great Jez cheese moment at the end • this livestream dot com session is some performing but some Q&Aing, so not really an interview proper, but the energy in the room is delightful alskdghj

other noteworthy bodies of work: • anything with Andy Backhouse. I'll be the first to admit that Andy can grate my nerves sometimes, he often feels annoyingly a little too simp-y or something, but the other side of that coin is that as a huge fan of the band he actually does always ask them questions that are like, Real, he Gets them, so it's guaranteed to be a notch up from just random music journos who are engaging with them on a more surface industry level. Nothing is more frustrating than watching an EE interview where the interviewer just so blatantly doesn't "get" EE's whole deal and doesn't know how to interface. Andy never has that problem ! • any episode of Chips of Chorlton that features them (I think Jon's been on twice and Jeremy once). Dutch Uncles are their friends and hearing them all shoot the shit in an extremely comfortable environment is suuuuch a pleasant and wholly different experience than when the lads are being Professional Music Band guys, even when the latter still consists of them doing fairly goofy things

A VERY LONGWINDED AND NOT ESPECIALLY COMPREHENSIVE ANSWER ?? !!!!! Ultimately I think I was the wrong man for the job. @hellkitepriest has way more of an archivist's nature sort of just intrinsically than I do, he can probably do a better and less ridiculous job akjdshglak

#TL;DR #e e #photoshop pharaoh #I HOPE THIS WAS ANYTHING..... HAhh #this has been a post

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poppinisperfection · 4 years ago

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Cool. || Peter Maximoff x Reader pt. 1 ||

Peter Maximoff x fem!human!Reader

(Y/n) is history teacher.

Requested.

Word Count: 3543

Notes: Peter acts a little strange in this, he's not being cold on purpose - so keep that in mind. Let's all presume (Y/n) is an independent woman who doesn't let an aloof guy ruin her day 💫 it's more of an introduction, so sorry if that dissapoints y'all. I hope you enjoy this extremely long piece of writing, let me know what you think. Requests are open 🙌

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @scorpionchild81

Masterlist

I flicked the indicator, as it clicked rhythmically and signaled my next turn. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, I wondered whether the direction I was heading in was the right one. My eyes drifted down to the small business card that was beginning to wrinkle from the amount of times it had been read and re-read.

‘Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York’

With a deep breath, I pushed my foot gently on the accelerator and turned the wheel - solidifying my decision. I drove down the graveled driveway as the evening sun pierced through the acres of fields and forests that dotted the landscape. This place was unlike any school I had ever seen. I had taught at various institutions of all kinds during my training, but something about this place was like something out of a fairytale or Jane Austen novel.

The old academic building grew closer as I prepared to slow down my vehicle and stop at the entrance. I peered around, trying to see if there was any places dedicated for me to park; but as far as I could tell, this was the only appropriate place for me to stop.

I pulled out my key and felt the car’s engine fade to silence. I didn’t notice how comforting the gentle grumbles of the vehicle had been until they were gone. Now, all that was left was my mind and the thousand worries that crashed around inside it. I'm not a mutant, but I often wonder if being anxious about everything is some sort of weird useless mutation that I unfortunately had.

Before I could become consumed by my menial fears, the vintage wooden doors opened up as if on cue. A man in a chair wheeled out as his familiar face smiled at me, and I was honestly quite awe-struck by his sudden appearance. I had spoken to Professor Charles Xavier on the phone before (for the job interview), and I had watched him on television a few times, but something about actually being near him was so incredible. This man changed the lives of so many people, possibly even the world.

I took a deep breath in and returned the kind smile, opening my car door and placing my feet onto the ground - the gravel crunching underfoot.

"Professor Xavier, it's so good to meet you." I spoke nervously, unsure of what I should do with my posture. Should I shake his hand? Should I high-five him? Should I bow? Okay maybe those last two were a bit far-fetched...

"The pleasure is all mine, (Y/n)." A voice rang through my head, as if it were my own thoughts speaking to me. But I recognized the voice, a smooth English accent that belonged to the world's most famous telepath.

"Incredible..." I breathed. Some might find it intrusive or freaky, but I was quite honored and honestly dazzled by his abilities. A figure appeared behind the wheelchair-bound man, distracting me from my child-like awe.

"Don't be a such a show-off, Charles." my attention turned to a tall man wearing a pair of glasses and a smart checkered shirt. "Good Evening, I'm Hank McCoy." he piped up cheerily, holding out his hand for me to shake. I absentmindedly took it, a bit starstruck by the world-renowned engineer, scientist, blue-furry man, and genius.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." I eventually spoke up, causing Hank to raise an eyebrow at my words.

“’(L/n)’? You're the new history teacher?" I nodded at his question, "Oh wow, you came so highly recommend that I presumed you'd be a bit more... experienced?" he chose his words carefully as to not offend. I know that most people picture an old greying woman who wears outdated fashion when they think of a history teacher...

"Oh, I'm young, I know." I explained with a bashful chuckle.

“Hank, you of all people should know greatness is not defined by age.” Charles turned to his colleague.

“I read that you graduated Harvard at 16.” I blurted out.

“15, actually.” McCoy mumbled humbly. Xavier gave a satisfied smile as his point was proven.

“(Y/n) here was top of her class, and I have no doubt that she’ll be a wonderful addition to the school.” the wise mutant stated, assuring Hank and giving me a boost of confidence. “Come inside, Hank can carry your bags for you, won’t you?” the professor inquired cheekily as McCoy threw him a look of slight distain.

“Somedays I wish I wasn’t born with super-strength...” the academic man shook his head - the comment laced with light-hearted sarcasm - before heading to my car and pulling out my two bags, not even giving me a chance to politely object to the offer.

“Ignore him, he’s just grumpy because he’s not on the mission.” Professor Xavier chuckled, turning his wheelchair around and beckoning for me to follow him inside.

“I only trust myself to pilot that beauty.” Hank mentioned wistfully, probably referring to his famous aeronautical creation.

“’The mission’?” I questioned with intrigue, trailing behind him and entering the grand entrance.

“The X-Men are on a routine escort mission for the President at the moment,” my attention turned away from the antique décor as I choked on my breath slightly at his words. Of course I had heard of the famous troop of mutant heroes, but it just suddenly became so real. I was living where the X-Men lived. You know, the same X-Men that saved the world from complete destruction. “I was hoping they’d be here to show you around - but duty calls.” Charles finished.

“Oh of... of course, duty...” I managed to mutter out eventually, earning a slight laugh from the Professor. He didn’t need to be a telepath to read my mind right now. I was so obviously astonished at the whole situation. I couldn’t believe that I was finally here, after months of thinking, considering, and second-guessing. I knew it was a risk, and I couldn’t even return to my parents if it failed.

Let’s just say that my folks weren’t very supportive of my decision to teach at a 'mutant mansion', as they would call it. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was bravery; but I ignored their advice and became determined to come to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngers. Now it was my only chance, since my family won't be welcoming me back anytime soon.

I followed Charles around, as he showed me all the rooms and explained some of the history as Hank make the odd comment or interjection. Most notably that the house was actually only a few years old, owing to the fact that the school had been blown up and rebuild a year ago. That was a fact that I could’ve gone without knowing. All I could do was hope that it didn’t blow up again, or at least not when I was around anyway.

"Your classroom will be right next to the library," Xavier motioned towards a pair of wooden doors that lay open for students to walk freely into, "and feel free to check out any of the books as well - I have a few secret shelves for teachers, with some unregulated research papers on pre-20th century mutations, if that sounds interesting to you?" he added with a playful smile, as I nodded my head in admiration. This place sounded like an absolute dream, and I've only been here for less than an hour.

-------

As we strolled (and wheeled) down the wooden hallways, I noticed the students disappear one by one. By the looks of it, the early night had truly set in, and the majority of children were either in their rooms studying or hanging out in a common area.

"I suppose there's nothing more we can show you until the class starts tomorrow morning, I was really hoping that the team would be back by now..." Xavier gave a short sigh and furrowed his brows slightly, "But I suppose I've prolonged your tour as long as I could. Perhaps Hank, you could show (Y/n) to her room and she can rest in preparation for tomorrow." his smile returned as he asked his colleague for another favor. McCoy nodded his head and gave me a polite smile, still carrying around my bags from earlier. Maybe he didn't anticipate the Professor giving such an expansive and detailed tour of the mansion, so the bags must've been getting burdensome at this stage.

The spectacle-wearing teacher walked ahead of me and strolled towards the grand staircase that lead to the upstairs area (which we had previously travelled to earlier, but it's mainly bedrooms that we couldn't intrude into). I trailed my fingers along the carved bannister of the staircase, admiring the craftsmanship. Considering the school had been blown apart; this place looked as though it was straight out of a historical drama. The Professor could've went for a more modern update, like the ones you see in magazines and government buildings - but something about the simplicity of 1980s architecture just seemed cold and clinical. I'm glad they kept the historical charm alive.

"So you're really not, well, you know..." Hank broke me out of my daydreaming as he turned his head slightly and paused at the top of the steps. It took me a second to register what he was asking, but then it hit me.

"A mutant? Oh," I gave a meek smile before answering, "No I'm just a regular 'homosapien', completely boring." my sentence ended with a light chuckle at my own expense.

"Then you'll be the first non-mutant teacher here, you're making history." McCoy replied with zest as he began to walk down the hallway again.

"I thought I was supposed to teach history, not make it." I chirped from behind him, earning a snort and chuckle from the nerdy fellow (I know, I know - I'm a superb comedian).

As we passed by the student rooms, I could hear the various sounds emerging from behind their doors. One was gossiping loudly to their friends, another was blasting ABBA and singing along, and I could've swore that I heard some quiet sobs escaping through the keyhole of one door. My face fell into a frown as we passed by, and Hank paused slightly, before turning to me.

"That's Sophie Smith's room, she's homesick a lot." he whispered to me, his features showing concern. "You might have her for a class, so maybe keep an eye out if she's struggling." Hank suggested, as my heart went out for this student. I gave him a nod before we continued on our neverending journey towards my room.

Eventually, we stopped at the end of a corridor and my guide dropped my bags carefully on the wooden flooring. He twisted the door knob with one hand, and I watched as the door opened and revealed my bedroom.

"’Home sweet home’, as the saying goes." Hank uttered with a light tone. I stepped into the room and took my bags from the floor, carrying them in with me.

"It's so..." I breathed, observing the room.

"I know, we were supposed to get the curtains changed last month, but there was a mix-up and it's been dela-" he tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Oh no! I was going to say, 'It's so perfect'." I clarified, brushing off his embarrassment at the state of the curtains (which were beautiful anyway). I stepped forward and placed my bags at the end of the bed while gazing at the beautiful room. This place was growing on me more and more with each minute that passed.

“I’ll let you get settled in for the night then, there’s a copy of your timetable on your desk - it has all the information you’ll need for classes and etcetera.” Hank gestured to the neat pile of paper sheets on the wooden desk, “There’s always food in the kitchen, feel free to eat whenever and whatever you want.” he added, as my attention turned to my empty stomach. I will definitely be visiting the kitchen after I get settled in.

“Thank you, for everything.” I beamed, unable to truly express my gratitude. He returned the smile and nodded, before shutting the door and returning to his business. As soon as his footsteps disappeared, I fell flat on the quilted bedsheets and sprawled out, giving out a pent up sigh. It was the kind of sigh that released anxiety and replaced it with assurance. From the looks of it, things were going to be alright - and there was nothing more satisfying that knowing you made the right decision.

My brief escape into my feelings was cut short, as my stomach audibly warned me that it was running low on fuel. I turned my head and looked over to the beside alarm clock, reading the time; ‘8:24p.m.’

“Hmm,” I mused as I considered my options, “I should probably read you first...” my eyes drifted to the timetable that sat untouched on the desk. My belly did not agree with this decision, as it grumbled once more. “Okay, alright... yeesh.” I placed a hand against my abdomen, trying to settle the noise. “Food first, read later.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and resolved to make my way towards the school’s kitchen.

-------

Finding the kitchen was no problem, as the Professor showed it to me at least three times earlier. I guess he really was trying to stretch that tour out as much as possible. A few of the older students who were hanging around glanced at me as I entered the room. I couldn’t tell if they knew I was a teacher, or if they just thought I was a new student; either way, they didn’t stick around to find out. The group of teenagers grabbed their snacks and left the room once their privacy was interrupted. Honestly, I just think they were gossiping about some pop music band and didn’t want a stranger listening - so I didn’t mind their swift exit. It left me with some privacy as well, which was nice.

I noticed a small radio sitting in the window sill, and decided to switch it on to break the silence. A static noise rang out as I extended the antenna and turned the knob carefully. Soon a voice grew clearer, and I had reached a station playing something. I just let the song play out, since I didn’t want to bother with searching the airwaves for something else.

I stepped over to the pantry and surveyed the contents carefully. I was starving, but I couldn’t figure out what for. I picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter, deciding it would have to be a PB & Jelly sandwich. Grabbing a plate, I began to craft my makeshift dinner. Absentmindedly, my head began to sway gently to the tune that played through the tinny radio speaker. It was one of those cheesy love songs that are always playing these days. There was something so catchy about those songs, and instinctively I began to mouth the words and drift into an MTV daydream.

My brief escape from reality faded away as I noticed a clinking noise coming from the glass and cutlery. It was almost like an earthquake, but I knew that New York was unlikely to experience that kind of disaster (well I hoped so, at least).

A bright light shone outside the window, and I stepped closer to peer out. The basketball court had opened up and revealed a massive basement beneath it. A few seconds later, a black jet descended gracefully from the dark sky and lowered itself underground while the whole mansion trembled with the power it created. I swiftly grabbed the jam jar as it almost slipped off the edge of the counter, and stared in awe.

“So that’s where they keep it...” I breathed out as the basketball court returned to its normal state, as if nothing had happened. I stood in wonder for a few seconds, still holding the jar tightly in my hands. That was probably the most of the X-Men I’d be seeing tonight. I’m no expert on presidential mission debriefing, but I presumed the team of elite heroes wouldn’t be mingling with the common folk upstairs for at least an hou-

“Ugh, this song’s a real bummer.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a voice suddenly quipped from beside me. My attention hastily turned to a combat uniformed young man - quickly flicking through the radio stations. I stared at him, half confused and half terrified of his sudden appearance. Slowly I began to recognize his features; silvery hair, aloof attitude, and of course, the recognisable X-Men uniform.

“Hey - you’re that guy...” I tilted my head slightly as I spoke without thinking. In a split second, he appeared at the fridge wearing an entirely new outfit, this time more casual. The music had changed to something more rock-y and alternative, matching his aesthetic. I was almost certain of it. I couldn’t remember his name, but I’ve definitely seen him with the X-Men on the news. I was almost certain of it.

“Nah, you’re thinking of a different guy.” he responded without second thought, while lifting out a can of some kind of soda. I felt my mouth contort in confusion, bemused by his comment.

“I...” my thoughts paused to phrase my words correctly, “You were just wearing an X-Men uniform, you’ve got to be him.” I managed to retort, causing the confident fellow to raise an eyebrow. With the blink of an eye, he had disappeared from my sight again.

“So, you don’t even know his name - and you’re convinced he’s me?” the silver-haired guy stated nonchalantly from behind me as he sipped on his drink. I gasped and grabbed my chest in surprise, not expecting him to sneak up behind me like that. I gave a sigh and prepared to answer the question.

“I know, I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and wracked my brain for a moment, “Peter, right?” I sighed, finally recalling the speedy mutant’s name. I looked up at him and expected some sort of witty remark. Instead, he just stared at me for a few seconds. I avoided his gaze awkwardly and looked down at the jam jar that still sat in my hands. Clearing my throat, I placed it carefully onto the counter beside me - trying to distract from his sudden silence.

“Oh.” I mumbled at the change of topic, “I am. Only arrived here a few hours ago. The Professor showed me around earlier, with Hank, I saw all the classrooms and it was really quite-” I harped on, “I'm sorry, I'm rambling..." my voice lowered, as I watched the casual fellow open up a bag of pretzels and munch on them absentmindedly. He gave a soft chuckle at my apology.

“So, you’re new here?” for the third time, he appeared in a different location, leaving me to turn around one more time. He faced away from me, opening a drawer and surveying its content silently.

"Cool." he replied simply, placing a few more pretzels into his mouth.

"Cool." I repeated gently, trying to decipher his aloofness. This 'Peter' was blunt, distant, and almost cold. It was as if I had offended him somehow. I stared at my surroundings for a brief moment, before deciding to get off of the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier; or was it that I couldn't remember your name?" I tried to find the reason for his indifference, wringing my hands with nerves. Peter raised an eyebrow and scowled slightly at my question.

"Rude?" he asked with a shocked tone.

"Yeah, I thought I offended you?" I explained.

"Nah, nah, we're good." he shrugged my theory off and zoomed over to the bin, throwing the crumpled wrapper in it. "I gotta go now, X-Men stuff." Peter turned to me and excused himself. I gave a soft 'oh' in surprise, and held out my hand for him to shake (just a teacher habit, I guess).

"Nice to meet you anyway, Peter." I smiled at him. The silvery guy just stared at my hand and then looked back up to me - but for some reason, avoided my eyes.

"Cool." he said again, before disappearing from sight; leaving me standing there, alone, holding my hand out for no one. Slowly I lowered my wrist and cleared my throat.

"Cool..." I said to myself, still entirely confused by the interaction. My attention quickly turned to the change in music. The radio suddenly shifted from the grungy tunes, back to the end of love ballad that I was listening to earlier. He must've changed it back. I tilted my head and stared at the little radio in the window, listening and thinking.

Maybe he wasn't as cold as I thought. Maybe I'll try and get a better conversation from that silver-haired boy tomorrow. Maybe I'll get that handshake from him. Maybe.

Still, the only thing that matters right now is that I eat that PB&J sandwich.

-------

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sharpwin101 · 4 years ago

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“EVERYTHING I DID, I DID FOR YOU”

N.B. Hey guys, I'm re-uploading this narrative due to previous grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc. mistakes. I'm completely bad at proofreading lol, and didn't take the time to read over, but after receiving some very impactful feedbacks on twitter, it gave me the motivation I needed to somewhat correct these mistakes🤞hopefully enough, finishing this fanfic, which I must say I'm quite excited for you guys to read.

S2 EP16 “EVERYTHING I DID, I DID FOR YOU”,

CHAPER 1

I don't get it? As tears stream down her cheeks,

Her thoughts raced as she remained in front of her bathroom mirror long enough to get agitated by her own self-pity.

She understood that harboring such feelings would not only be self-destructive, but would keep her trapped, she was mentally stronger, and refuses to let it sabotage the barrier she has construct throughout the years.

She knew conquering and embracing Max’s indecisiveness, was just a question of time. That continues to fail him terribly, repeatedly, to define them, what they meant to each other, wondering how much longer, if not impossible, it will be for him to embrace and overcome his own fetters to unleash what he truly feels.

Will he ever? she’s impel to believed, naively unaware of her imperceptiveness to his true desire, behind his barriers, causing her to suspect mistakenly,

Questing “does he feels the same”

She paces back and forth, flipping her heels off with a small grimace, scattering them on the floor.

Fervently turning to her living room, with an instant wipe of her tears, in the direction of the liquor cupboard, pulling the first wine bottle her hand came across, desperate for a wine opener, she run-walk towards the kitchen, leaving nearly all of the drawers open while probing through.

She spotted the opener. Yes, yes! Clutches it obstinately, relieved.

As she holds the bottle inverted between her knees, she struggled to open it a bit, her mind still being indistinct after their encounter, temporarily forgotten how to open the wine bottle.

(The wine cork flew free)

She hastily turns it to her head, gulping it down as if she didn't have time to consume it a bit slower, inadvertently spilling it on her.

Crap!

Returning to the bathroom in search of her robe, while undressing herself and gulping more wine down her throat.

Being the clean freak she is, immediately after, she brought her clothing towards the laundry room, as she senses the impending intoxication looming over her.

(Crash)The wine bottle slipped from her deft grip and shattered on the floor.

she slowly slumped to the floor, leaning against the laundry door for support grappling to sit up. While her clothes slowly unfold from her arms, As she casts a longing glare into space.

She ruminate aloud, frustratedly.

What is wrong with me? Staring up towards the roof, as though she was seeking answers to all of life's unanswered questions from a greater Entity.

Why I’m I so unlucky?

I fought on, knowing that I wasn't even sure whether I'd be ready too, if you chose me then or now, she added, laughing.

All the walls I've worked so hard to build, comes crumbling down whenever I see, I can’t comprehend it.

As she gently holds the nape of her neck, breathing deeply, with her left hand supporting her head, while facing down. I don't want to lose control; I can't lose control.

You say these significant things,

you look at me in the way you do, and then you do nothing? How can I fight for that?

You asked me why I did what I did, despite the fact that you already knew the answer. I asked you to define us;

what exactly, this, we are? as she motioned for answers

I've given you so much, and I tried so hard not to but it's as if all my rationale goes out the window when you're in danger. (laughing sarcastically at her self).

For God sake, you yelled at me.......... whenever I try to help.

I have these fantasies about you before getting out of bed, I've tried to ignore it; believe me, I have (laughing)

now I'm just here talking to myself.

As her gaze wandered around the room, she became irritated by the smashed wine bottle.

“ FIGHT FOR US”,

CHAPERT 2

(KNOCKING) She tilted her head, confusedly glancing towards the front door, wondering if it was the alcohol or someone was actually at the door.

Struggling to get up from the floor, as she continues to listen attentively to hear whether the knocking was coming from her front door. She slightly slipped when grabbing for her phone on the kitchen counter, to check the time.

11:43pm

Tightening her robe as she wiped her face, pondering, a few names flashed through her mind, But why would they not call? silently muttering to herself. Her phone started to ring as soon as the knocking ceased. Resuming her attention to her phone, which lids up, displaying "Dr. Max Goodwin” with a slight discontent look, she responded, still gazing at the door, nervously biting down on her index finger.

What, what do you want? She answered.

"I'm at your door; will you let me in?". Quickly swallowing her saliva, her heart races, instantly lowering her phone to her side, with a million thoughts rushes through her head as she looked at the messed she had created, quickly ending his call. She began picking up her clothes from the floor and rushed to the washroom, staring at her flushed face, unbothered at this point and didn't care whether he noticed she was crying.

She trudged towards the front door, spotting her bed slippers and pulls them on. Briefly pausing before opening the door.

There he was, standing in front of her. Casually dressed, in blue jeans, a grey t-shirt, and his black jacket, which she had seen him in before.

Trying not to look into his eyes, but he has already peered right into hers. Struck by how small and delicate she looks outside the walls of the hospital, becoming completely lost in her eyes, unable to speak. 'Um, I... What are you doing here? she asked, before he could finish his sentence.

Were you crying? With a slight head tilt, she rolled her eyes irritably as she turns her back on him, leaving the door ajar. What are you doing here, Max?, her voice raised rather than normal. The frustration in her voice perplexed him. I wanted to ‘Um, before noticing the shattered wine bottle on her floor.

As she reaches to get the mob and dustpan from the storage area adjacent to her kitchen. He watches her as she teeters, shutting the drawers that she left open earlier.

As she approaches the spilt wine on the floor, she kept her eyes lowered trying not to look him into his. He detects her shakiness as she extends the broom over the shattered wine bottle. No! he said, with no intent, to say it so loudly. Reaching his hands towards the broom.

Let me help, she still persisted. He gently withdrew the broom from her grasp when she walked away towards another section of her apartment, as his eyes followed her.

He disposed the shattered glass in the trash can, placing the mob and dustpan into the already opened storeroom.

In search of her, he returned to the living room area. noticing she had her back to him, curled up on her couch in a sitting position, fully wrapped in a blanket that matches the color of his shirt.

He stood behind her for minute before approaching.

Placing his hand on her shoulder as he walks to the side of the couch. She shivers at his touch just enough for it to go unnoticed while still looking down.

Seating next to her, he tries to get her attention. Helen, she did not respond. I'm sorry.... As he questioned. Are you okay? Placing her right palm on her forehead, displaying a tiny discomfort. She muttered, I have a minor headache. ‘Um, do you have any pain relievers? Instantly patted his forehead after, quickly realizing she wouldn't be able to take it seeing that she was drinking. Hastily corrects himself, do you want me to make you some tea? she fixes her gaze on him.

Please let me make you tea, while he makes his usual puppy eyes at her.

She gave her approval with a nod. Where are your…...? Instructing him with a finger while drawing the blanket back up to her shoulders. He stood up lively, walking towards her kitchen, absolutely taken aback by how tidy and organized her apartment looked.

Already knowing what kind of tea because they both enjoy it the same, reaching into the pantry for the box of tea bags on the lower shelf, pulling a cup from the washer and placing it on the hot water kettle. He spoons in 1/2 teaspoon of sugar exactly how she likes it. While leaning his back on the counter.

As he waited for the water to heat up, he indulged in his thoughts, gazing around her kitchen.

The whistling from the kettle stopped, with relieved he turned around, adding the hot water to the tea bag and returning to her,

With a wide smile on his face, he hands her the cup, she noticed he didn't have his wedding ban, she looked into his eyes as her hands extends to take the cup. He noticed that she noticed, with a little distance between them, he sat beside her in silence.

on her third sip of tea, he glances at her and proceeded to apologize.

I should never have let you walk out that door, ‘I, I.... I have tried to hide this. It's been hard,

It almost drove me completely insane. As she looked at him, intently listening

I've tried to hold back, since the day we met.......................... It's been eating me alive knowing I felt this way while being married and had already started a family,

but I can't deny that I haven't felt this, not any more, he remarked, shaking his head.

For the longest time, I felt guilty, knowing I had felt this way about you,

if I let you slip out of my life, without trying, to fighting for us, I will not survive it,

I see you, Helen. it’s just that sometimes it takes me a minute, to remember what matters more than anything, you.

He drew closer to her, as she sets the tea cup on the center table. Helen,

I’m ready to fight. Fight for you, for Us.

Every time you've been near me, I've wanted to do stuff to you, imagining what it would be like.

You are undeniably BEAUTIFUL and sexy, and I need to have you, in all the ways I have been dreaming of.

She swallows her nonexistent saliva as he got closer. With her mouth partially open, uncontrollably batting her eyes at him. She searches his eyes, while he searches hers for permission, to touch her, intimately. Placing his left hand on the right side of the back of her neck sliding his fingers upward, gently holding on to her hair, a rush of adrenaline prickled her stomach, as he watched the whooshing of her breathing, thinking how soft on silky the growths of her hair felt.

She needed him to touched her, she needed to grip him closer, but her body was weak, weak to his touch. As they stared intensely at each other, their faces being only a few inches apart, tightening his grip on her hair, causing her to slightly tilted her head back, finally freeing of her temporary paralysis, she grabs hold to his muscular arm with her left hand, while clutching his side with her other hand.

He knew he was in charge, and she wanted him, his lips being a inch closer to hers, her eyelids, fill down slowly closing.

Their lips touch, as their bodies tingles, her chest rises, left her feeling like she had no air. The instant chemistry they felt, was uncontrollable. His thinking slowed when his lips met hers. Time becoming unknown, as if he were in a dream, how warm and crazily soft her lips were.

As they draw each other deeper and further into each other's sanctum, thrusting herself up with a knee for support.

Has he pauses, looking intently into her eyes, slowly begin rolling her robe over her shoulder.

In complete awe of how clear and smooth her skin appears, while stirring her down. He notices she was wearing a black lace bra that matches her thong, which complemented her skin tone well, lost in her eyes, before entirely removing her robe. As she gets back up on both knees, yanking his jacket off, while he impatiently helped her to removed his shirt.

Unbuckling his belt, she unzip his jeans. Holding her by the lower portion of her cheeks, he punches his tongue into her mouth. Resting his back on the couch, hoisted her up on top of him.

feeling her body, with both his hands on her waist, recognizing how small it was in comparison to her hips, being considerably wider. She bends her knees and places her hands on the couch over his shoulder. As his tongue trails down her neck, while unclipping her bra, struggling a little.

Carefully pulling it off, her hands fill to her side, looking down at him, when he stroked her breast with his hands, causing her head to fall back uncontrollably, as a rush of adrenaline went to her vulva, gasping harder as he places his mouth over her tit, slowly sliding his hand into her thong concomitantly.

He gave her a look, realizing she was already lubricated, as she gasped for breath somewhat dropping her upper body backwards as his hand quickly supported her back, her mouth flew wide open, when he slid his index and middle finger in an upward motion on her clit.

She moaned loudly as he stroked it faster, her body slipping in and out of his grip, being a fraction of a second from an orgasm, he halted.

He hoisted her up positioning her back laying on the couch, with one of his hands intertwined with hers above her head. He opens her legs slightly with his bent knee, while she bends her knees up to give him access. Passionately kissing her while caressing her clit with his right fingers. Her heart races. As he drags his tongue in between her breasts, he releases her hands as he went down further, trailing his tongue towards her navel, causing her tummy to jerked.

He elevates his head up as he pulls himself down more to her vulva, while holding on to her hips. He tasted her, swiftly clinging to the cushion behind her, unable to keep her legs steady as he licks her clit. (she rapidly gasp for air).

She weakly tries to pull him up, with her orgasm being at it’s peek, moving back towards her lips, as they exchanged sensual glances. Using his hands as a support to keep himself upright while holding on to his already-erected dick. He puts the blanket under her back to elevate her slightly.

Penetrating her. Max, she screamed, quivering and gasping for breath, as she looks deeply into his eyes, attempting to caress the side of his face, (while she bit her bottom lip, as he went in deeper, she clutches onto him.

His sweat drips on her skin, as he moans, they couldn’t get enough of each other.

As he penetrates deeper, harder and faster inside her, he tightens his grasp around her waist. As they drew closer, their moans became more even louder.

Fuck! he shouted as he ejaculated his semen into her, simultaneously in the instant of her orgasm relief. They both felt to the ground. Looking at each other, completely in awe.

He extends his hand to the side of her face, pulling her in, to cuddled her.

#new amsterdam #helen sharpe #max goodwin #freema agyeman #ryan eggold #helen #max #nbc #nbc new amsterdam #sharpwin

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xxkellsvixen19xx · 6 years ago

Text

Forget Me Not Jim Mason x Reader 50 First Dates AU Pt 3

Jim laid a hand on her thigh out sight and casual-like. Just a light pressure to let Y/N know he was there for her.

Her entire body tightened, and she darted a glance around the table to see if anyone was watching. Everyone else was far too interested in their conversation and the joint floating around. He leaned over slightly to whisper by her ear. "You know they love you to pieces. It's going to be just fine, angel eyes."

His use of her nickname made her lips twitch. But even more importantly, to his delight she snuck her hand over his, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly in response.

"You two got something on your mind over there?" Chad's question buzzed angrily in Jim's ears.

It was rather amazing how much disapproval could be put into such simple words.

Y/N took a deep breath, but before she could speak Jim decided what the hell. He'd sooner be skinned for the whole disaster, no matter what she'd said before.

"Not a secret," Jim announced. "We're dating."

Other than her quick gasp of shock, there was no response to his comment. Not for a full five seconds. Then an uproar of noise hit from all sides.

"The hell?"

"Since when?"

"Are you serious?"

Over all the questions and cussing lay a deep, heavy rumble, starting low then increasing in volume until Mr. Y/D/L/N's laugh broke through. He waved his sons off. "Calm yourself, boys. You really surprised by this?" He clicked his tongue. "Never thought I’d raised a pack of dullards. I saw this coming from a mile away."

Y/N gave Jim a dirty look before facing her father.

"What's that mean?"

The older man shrugged. "Means I'd seen you two making calf eyes at each other when you thought no one was looking. About time you came to your senses."

Chad stumbled to vertical, glaring daggers at Jim. "Bullshit. You can't be dating Y/N."

Jim stood to meet him eye to eye across the table. "Not your decision."

"She's still recovering from the accident. She doesn't need to get involved with anyone."

A stream of very creative swearing burst free from a most unexpected source. Jim waited cautiously until Chad looked away before also turning toward Y/N.

She'd stood as well, her much shorter status very clear as everyone loomed over her from where they’d all risen to their feet around the table. The vile language spewing from her mouth stuttered to a stop as she whipped out her finger and stuck it in her oldest brother’s face.

"The accident happened two months ago. I. Bumped. My. Head. That's it. I didn't have a lobotomy or revert to childhood. I've had enough of you wrapping me in cotton and refusing to let me do anything on my own. Yes, I have gaps in my memory, and yes, dealing with that is a pain in the ass. But you, Chad"-she glared around the table to take in all her brothers-"all of you, are even bigger pains. I did not break my brain, or my body. My sex drive did not vanish out the broken window, and I will not allow you, or anyone else, decide what will or won't happen in my life."

Jim wasn't sure the mention of sex was the wisest idea as eyes narrowed further, and fists were clenched. Only he couldn't worry about that because she'd spun her fury toward him.

"And you! You're the biggest pain of them all. I told you I wanted to do this myself. You agreed, and now you just leap in and do exactly the opposite of what I asked for? Damn you." Y/N stepped back from the table, her eyes full of fire as she planted her feet wide and crossed her arms. "Jim and I are not going out," she stated clearly.

Oh, shit. She was more upset by his taking control than he’d expected. He reached for her, but she twisted from his grasp.

"Forget it, Jim. We might be seeing more of each other in the future if you get your head out of your ass, but the only reason will be because you might be the father of my baby."

The question exploded from five male throats at the same moment.

Y/N lifted her chin, cheeks red, her chest heaving. "Yes. I'm pregnant. Jim insists he could be. That's all I'm going to say about this tonight because I'm sick of all of you. Good night."

She twirled on her heel and stomped from the room, the door slamming shut after her. Jim wavered between running after her and staying to explain to the guys.

He never saw it coming. The fist that connected with his jaw made stars burst before his eyes, and he stumbled backward before landing on the floor, five very angry faces staring down at him.

"Shall we bury him alive in the back forty?" Danny asked, wiggling his fingers to shake out the blow he’d delivered. "Hang him in the garage. We can use the welder’s torch and skin him first."

Jim shoved aside the anger inside that wanted to flare like a torch. "Let me explain, dammit."

Chad dragged a hand over his head then gestured his brothers aside. He extended his hand to Jim.

Jim eyed it with distrust.

His friend snorted. "Look, you surprised us all, but I’m not going to beat you any further, and neither will the others."

"Speak for yourself," Alex drawled. "What the hell is going on, Jim?"

"Boys, let him up." Y/D/F/N Y/D/L/N pushed through his sons to cast an unreadable stare upon Jim.

Alex looked disappointed. "Does this mean we're not killing him and hiding the body?"

Y/D/F/N rested a hand on his shoulder. "Not today, but there's still hope for tomorrow."

And with that, Jim sighed in relief. He was going to be forgiven, at least by the guys. ,Y/N on the other hand, was another issue. He'd have to watch his balls around her for the next while.

They all settled around the table, a little uneasy. More awkward than he'd ever felt with the family. "So, now what?" Alex asked.

"That one is easy," Y/D/F/N answered. "Now Jim finds a way to convince Y/N they’re a couple. If she's going to have a baby, she needs all the support she can get."

"So you’d better find a way to convince Y/N she wants you in her life, or else," Chad snapped. Chad's ultimatum pissed Jim off all over.

"There’s nothing I want more." The secret seed of fear inside was shoved down and ignored as Jim went nose to nose with his stubborn best friend. “Did you not listen to what I said about sending you an email, you stupid ass? Did you not hear the part about how I'm the one who came to her before she even told me about the baby?"

"Easy words to say when none of it can be proved."

"Still say we take him outside and work him over," Alex muttered.

"Shut up, all of you." Mr. Y/D/L/N didn’t shout. Didn't storm, but his intensely spoken comment quelled all four of his sons. "Stop poking at Jim. He knows what he did was wrong, and if my baby girl is going to have a man in her life, I like Jim."

Warmth rushed him at the man’s words of acceptance. "Thank you, sir."

Y/D/F/N turned toward him with ice in the depths of his purple eyes. "You hurt her again, though, and I'll shoot you myself."

Ahh, family. Jim straightened up and wondered if he was going to survive.

Remembering the expression of fury in Y/N's eyes, he just might be better off dealing with the guys.

*********************************************

Y/N pulled herself alert. She was only a moment away from sliding into a puddle of relaxation in the overstuffed easy chair, tired from her week and everything that had been going on.

Medina had plopped herself on the floor to apply a new layer of polish to Y/N's toes. Instead of Friday night at the pub, Medina had suggested a girls’ home spa. The laid-back evening was so much better than fighting the noise and the crowds. Y/N was in heaven.

"Skipping away from the baby talk for a minute." Heather leaned forward on her elbows. "Tell me to butt out if you're not sharing, but what's this I hear about Jim.Mason basically camping out in your front yard?"

Y/N wasn't sure if she was pissed off or pleased with his relentless attention. "I laid down the law about two weeks ago, and ever since he's been trying to get back in my good books."

"Is it working?" Medina snorted. "Jim has not yet perfected the art of the grovel, we'll just put it that way."

"Hmm." Cami and Annisa, two more of Y/N's friends, exchanged glances. "A good grovel is always nice,” Cami admitted.

"Followed by make-up sex, right?" Annisa grinned. "So, what’s he not doing right? Not being determined enough?"

Y/N stopped to think for a minute. Jim had been persistent-that much was in his favor. "I don’t think he understands what he did wrong in the first place."

"Of course he doesn’t." Heather grabbed a pitcher and topped up her drink. "He’s a guy. The words 'I was wrong' kind of stick in their throats and end up coming out as 'Get over it, little woman, I know best.'

A snort escaped before Y/N could stop it. "Yeah, that’s about the entire story."

"So, all he needs to do is say he was wrong?" Medina tilted her head to the side. "I would have thought this situation required more than that."

"Oh, 'I was wrong' would be the first step," Y/N agreed. "But until he figures out that this is my life, I'm not letting him back in. It's bad enough with my brothers wanting to make decisions for me."

"And you don’t need another big brother, right?" Ava winked at her. "I know you probably hate getting asked, but how are you feeling?"

"Much better,” Y/N admitted happily. "Morning sickness is done. Lots of energy. I haven’t got back my memory, but I have progressed in my math beyond two plus two is four."

"Hmm, too bad you have no memory of sexing it up with Jim." Cami waggled her brows. "I bet he’s got some moves."

"I can’t believe sex with Jim wasn’t memorable enough to stay in your brain no matter what. I mean, do you think he's got a teeny penis or something, and your mind is trying to wipe that out?"

"Not the size of the equipment, it’s how well they use it," Annisa quipped innocently, batting her lashes at the laughter that rose from the other women. "Well, that’s what they say, right?"

"No, I doubt Jim is lacking penis power. Unless he's shoving socks into his jock strap, the guy's got the goods."

Like a barometer, Y/N’s cheeks had responded to the chatter. She didn't really want to speculate on Jim's... equipment. "Sorry. Memory loss doesn’t pick and choose to save the juicier tidbits for repeat consumption. We'll have to stick with 'I don't remember’ on this one."

Laughter exploded, and Y/N relaxed back into her happy haze of food and friends. It wasn't the size of Jim's equipment that interested her -well, okay, not completely. But if she remembered the act, she'd know for sure who was involved in making the baby in her belly. She slipped her hands over the slight bulge beginning to show and wished again for a miracle, like total recall. It didn't come, but the friendship and warmth around her helped. Helped a lot.

The next morning Jim shifted uneasily on his feet and waited for Y/N to answer his knock. It was just past ten. Late enough she would have had time to sleep in a little and dress, because he didn't need any temptation to mess this up.

It sort of worked. She was awake. The woman who pulled the door open had bright eyes and a rested face; only she was still wrapped in a mass of soft terry cloth. Her robe ended at mid-thigh, and Jim snapped his gaze back up to safer territory.

He swallowed hard. "Hi."

She lifted one brow in a perfect Vulcan imitation. "Hi." Jim paused. "How you doing?"

Y/N nodded. "Good."

Ah, fuck it. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I was an ass, and I had no right to butt in and go around your wishes."

She opened the door all the way and they headed towards the kitchen. She watched with a bemused attitude from where she’d pushed herself up to sit on the counter. "What are you doing, Jim?"

"Apologizing." He lifted his glass to her. "Trying to find a way to truly be there for you and make up for my stupid move at dinner a while back."

Y/N lifted her hand to touch his jaw where the final tinge of a bruise was slowly fading. "You got worked over by my brothers that night. I'm sorry for leaving you to them."

Jim stood stock-still as her soft fingers caressed his cheek. "I blew it more ways than one that night."

"You did." She patted his cheek gently then leaned forward to whisper, “But I'm ready to forgive you. Only for heaven's sake, stop acting like some ball-less dweeb."

Jim couldn't help but to laugh. "That's blunt."

Y/N shrugged. "It’s the new Y/N-I tend to speak my mind a little sooner. So here’s the deal. You will not fuck up and go against my express wishes, and I'll stop my brothers from beating on you."

Jim nodded. "And you'll let me get involved in your life; however it will help you the most. Whether that’s getting things ready for the baby's arrival, or being there to rub your feet or ..." He'd spotted the circle on the calendar on the wall. "Or going to prenatal visits with you."

She hesitated. "I don't know how I feel about that."

"That’s not true." Jim laid a hand over hers where it rested on the counter. "Come on, new Y/N, tell me what's racing through your mind."

She stared down at their fingers. "I'm afraid to let you in, I'm afraid to have you around and then have you taken off down the road." Her head lifted and those beautiful eyes stared into his soul. "I want you to be there for more than just the baby."

Jim stroked her fingers lightly. "I’m here. In spite of your fears." In spite of his own. "I wanted you before the baby was in the picture, and I'll want you no matter what." That much he could say with full and complete honesty.

The moment hung between them. Anticipation and longing right there. All his concerns and worries were overwhelmed by the need to have Y/N make the decision for him. To be with him, and give him a chance. Even though her accepting him would open up a world of nightmares-facing those would be worth it. Had to be worth it. He'd chosen to be a better man than his father, and this was the place that he made his stand.

Y/N moved so slowly, but finally she did move. Leaned toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. He slipped up a hand to brush the inch-long hair over her scalp, the softness against his palm like satin.

She leaned away. "Okay."

His heart raced like an out-of-control train. "Okay?"

She nodded. "You can come to the prenatal with me. And you can do some stuff around here, to help get things ready for the baby."

Jim waited, then got tired of waiting. "And us?" He demanded.

Her tongue snuck out quickly as she moistened her lips. "Well, I suppose we could start seeing each other."

He wanted to toss his fist into the air and shout, but that might freak her out. So instead he picked her up and twirled her. Hugging her close as she laughed. "Put me down, silly."

Jim lowered her carefully, reluctant to allow her warm, soft body to leave contact with his. "Does that mean we can go on a date?"

"Yes." She got an evil look in her eyes. He lowered himself onto the open space next to her, leaving room between them. There would be time to make a move on the physical side of things soon enough, now that she was letting him in. Letting him have a chance to do the right thing, and more.

She leaned back, the sunshine in the window making her soft and edible, and incredibly beautiful. "You have any plans for the day?"

"You are my plans."

Her smile bloomed, and Jim's heart swelled a little. It wasn’t what he’d expected to be doing, but in the big scheme of things-it was right.

@michael-langdon-appreciation

Credit to @carolthors

#jim mason #tribes of palos verdes #fan fiction

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