#anyway i imagine the reader is like in their 30s or something and ethan had a child in his 20s so the age gap is acceptable akjsakd rip

[myriadimagines]

Trouble

Mission: Impossible One Shot

Pairing: Reader x William Brandt

Other Characters: Ethan Hunt, Ilsa Faust, Benji Dunn, Luther Stickell

Warnings: violence, alcohol consumption, swearing

Requester: anonymous

Request: “Omg I need a William Brandt x Reader oneshot where the reader is Ethan’s child and a member of his team. Brandt at first thinks that your going to be trouble but after you save his life, he can’t help but fall in love with you.”

Word Count: 1,733

A/N: i rewatched mi: fallout with my mom and halfway through my mom goes WHERE’S BRANDT??? and that was a Mood. also alanna and ilsa are so hot g damn. that is all. i’m not the biggest fan of this but when am i ever when it comes to my one shots but i hope you enjoy

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

You try your utter best to contain your excitement as you trail behind your dad, biting back an eager smile. Ethan casts a quick glance at you, his own lips curling into a proud smile as he can see you practically floating with every step. This is your first mission, having been approved to be out the field, and you couldn’t be more than excited to be joining your dad’s team. Although Ethan has his reservations — what parent wouldn’t after all, having their child in such a dangerous profession — he knows what a capable agent you are, and is more than proud of you for how far you’ve come.

Ethan pushes open the door, leading you into the small warehouse room the team has settled into. Ilsa leans over Benji’s shoulder as he intently fixes up a small gadget, and Brandt and Luther are on the other side of the room, where Brandt listens as Luther explains an enlarged map on his computer. All heads look up as you close the door behind you, and Luther’s lips quick into a smile as he offers you a small nod — Luther has been a family friend who you’ve known since you were born. 

“Team, this is our newest member, y/n.” Ethan introduces you, and you square your shoulders as you can see them all making their own assessments of you, looking you up and down as they silently try to deduce what kind of person you are. Clearing his throat, Ethan adds, “y/n Hunt.”

Benji’s mouth drops open and Ilsa blinks in surprise before she quickly regains composure. Looking around at his teammates reactions, Benji stammers, “Okay, how did I not know you had a child?”

Ethan chuckles, and you step forward as you pipe up, “I’ve heard so much about everyone, and I’m really looking forward to working together.”

“Right, well, I have something you could work on for me.” Luther beckons for you to come closer, and you quickly oblige as Brant approaches Ethan, eyes narrowed as the two of you pass by one another. Ethan raises an eyebrow at Brandt as the two of them gather around one of the desks, Ethan quickly picking up on the obvious hesitation in Brandt’s expression.

“Are you sure this is the best idea?” Brandt blurts out, glancing over to where you and Luther are hunched over a monitor, rapidly typing away. Turning back to Ethan, Brandt continues, “Seems like a conflict of interest.”

“Brandt, I assure you, y/n will be a valuable asset to the team, and I won’t let my role as a father get in the way.” Ethan replies, his tone stern, and Brandt’s lips flatten into a line. Already predicting his next argument, Ethan adds, “y/n may not have as much field experience as the rest of us, but they’re a good agent.��� 

Brandt’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t push the argument. Ethan turns away, signalling for everyone to gather around.

“Our target tonight this man. Jeremy Mitchell.” Ethan points to a series of images that appear on the monitor next to him. “He’ll be at an exclusive party tonight, which we’ll all be attending, courtesy of Luther for getting us on the guest list. He knows information that is crucial to us, but he’s also targeted by a number of crime organization because of what he knows. Our mission is to protect him before safely escorting him back here at the end of the night. Understood?”

The team nods, and as everyone scatters to prepare, you approach Brandt with an outstretched hand. “I don’t think I’ve had the chance to talk to you yet. I look forward to working with you, Agent Brandt.”

Brant glances down at your hand, before curtly nodding at you. You seem too enthusiastic to him to the point where it seems almost naive, and Brandt’s worries about your relation to Ethan still plague him. Hastily checking to make sure his gun is loaded before tucking it into his waistband, covering it up with his suit jacket, Brant simply replies, “Don’t know if I can say the same.”

You blink at him in surprise, slowly drawing your hand back as Brandt walks past you. Your eyebrows furrow as Benji walks up to your side, and you mutter, “Jeez, what’d I do to piss him off?”

Benji follows your gaze to where Brandt is. Shrugging, he tries to give you an encouraging nudge with his elbow as he waves his hand. “Ah, don’t worry about it. Brandt’s always the pessimist of the group. Anyway, you ready to go?”

—

“I have eyes on the target.”

You weave in between crowds of expensive ballgowns and clean suits, keeping your head low as to not draw too much attention to yourself. Ilsa’s voice crackles through your earpiece, and you glance up at the second flood to see her leaning against one of the building’s columns, drink in hand as she distractedly swirls her champagne in her glass. She makes momentary eye contact with you, but shows no sign of emotion as her gaze quickly sweeps over you to where Mitchell is standing a short distance away from you.

“y/n, stay focused.” Brandt’s voice suddenly chastises, and you hastily look away as you can see him observing you from across the room, pretending to admire a piece of artwork decorating the nearby wall. “You don’t want to give us away.”

You press your lips together in a flat line, struggling not to snap back at Brandt. The night was full of similar comments from him, berating you over the tiniest things he feared would reveal the team to anyone who was watching you. Sucking in a sharp breath, you suddenly gulp down the remainder of wine left in your glass before marching over to Brandt, sidling up to him as he struggles not to look at you in alarm. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he hisses, glancing over his shoulder before back at you. 

“What’s your problem with me?” you hiss back, glaring at him as you barely manage to keep your voice a harsh whisper. You can hear Benji talking in your earpiece, but you ignore him as you continue, “All night, you’ve been picking on me over the most ridiculous things.”

“Those ridiculous things you’re doing are going to get us into trouble.” Brandt growls, and you scoff as your clench your hands into fists. “You could use some common sense-”

“Guys!” Benji interrupts, and you and Brandt flinch as out of the corner of your eye, you can see Ilsa and Ethan on the move, briskly weaving through the crowds. You and Brandt exchange confused glances before Benji’s panicked voice continues, “Mitchell’s gone.”

“What?” you spin around, eyes wide as you scan the crowds, a sinking feeling making itself at home in your stomach as you realize Benji’s right. Running your hands through your hair, you can see Ethan desperately searching the room as Brandt suddenly grabs your arm, pointing at a man’s retreating back disappearing behind an obscured door.

You and Brandt look back at each other, and you reluctantly put aside your argument as you give each other knowing looks, and Brandt moves his hand to his gun. Already on the move, you tell him, “I’ll see if there’s a way to cut them off.”

Brandt nods, not wasting any time as he quickly moves to the backdoor, whipping out his gun the second he steps into the narrow corridor. There’s a flight of stairs going down, and he can hear the faint yelling, the muffled protests and hurried footsteps, and Brandt breaks into a sprint as his finger moves over the trigger. He jumps down the stairs and turns the corner, aiming his gun at two armed men who have Mitchell surrounded, and Brandt yells out, “Hey!”

The two men turn, barely having time to raise their guns before Brandt shoots them. Mitchell lets out an alarmed scream, and Brandt rushes over to him, grabbing his arm as he hurriedly says, “I’m here to protect you.”

Before Mitchell can protest, Brandt’s head snaps up as he hears more men coming down the corridor, and the familiar sound of guns being loaded as their rumbling footsteps grow louder. Pushing Mitchell ahead, Brandt instructs, “Go, go, go!”

The two run down the corridor, narrowly dodging the rapid gunfire that ensues as soon as their pursuers catch sight of them. They navigate the intricate maze brightly lit by fluorescent lights, ducking into whatever door that appears in hope of an exit as Brandt yells into his earpiece, “I have Mitchell, but we’re being chased-”

Brandt grabs Mitchell by the back of his collar as he spots a door to his right, and he pushes it open before shoving Mitchell inside. The two continue to sprint, Mitchell struggling to keep up through his labored breaths, and as Brandt turns the corner, he’s confronted by three men waiting for him with guns. 

“Shit.” Brandt raises his gun, but he’s outnumbered. The three men advance towards him, guns aimed, and Brandt backs up to retreat before abruptly hearing more men thundering up behind him yelling instructions and loading their weapons. 

Brandt suddenly ducks upon hearing the loud burst of gunfire, and he instinctively pulls Mitchell towards him to shield him before he looks up and sees the three men fall, blood pooling out from their lifeless bodies. You run up from where you had managed to sneak up on them, and Brandt’s eyes widen as you grab his arm, breathless as you ask, “You okay?”

“How- how’d you find us?” Brandt stammers, almost too stunned to respond. After a beat, he adds, “You saved me.” 

Your lips quirk into a grin, but it quickly fades as you heard the footsteps getting louder. You grab Brandt’s hand, and suddenly, Brandt doesn’t know why he now suddenly feels more flustered and impressed than he’s felt in his entire life. Heat spreads throughout his body from the simple touch of your fingertips, and you pull him upright and beckon for him to grab Mitchell as you urge, “Let’s move.”

He nods at you, the two of you exchanging a small, tentative smile, and all Brandt can think about is how you’re definitely going to cause him trouble, but not in the way he originally thought. 

tag list: @fairytalesforever / @egg2k16

[choicesenthusiast]

Open Heart 2, Ch. 12 AKA Recovery

What happened this week:

A few days after the incident, you’re discharged from the hospital, so visit Rafael at his lovely grandmother’s where she peppers you with snacks in true Brazilian grandmother fashion, and learn that he’s recovering from the incident okay. Except if you go on a walk with him, you learn that he’s also dealing with a lot of survivor’s guilt, and after months of absence and a near-death experience, finally kiss him again. Hopefully this confirms his reinstatement as an LI!

Show up at the cemetery for that funeral scene, for Danny and Bobby. The memorial is just as sad and heartbreaking as you’d expect. Characters are crying. Readers are crying. Everyone’s crying.

At the reception, check up on Sienna, who’s taking this loss especially hard, for good reason. I really want to spend more time with her, especially since she was the closest with Danny. Exploring her reaction would be an excellent direction to take the story (if they can even clean up the 2598 other plots in this book), and may even be a great time for some good social commentary on mental health. Actually, said social commentary can fit in anywhere in this book, and it would be a shame if PB didn’t take this opportunity at all.

Urged to do something, ask Ethan to get over his rivalry and pitch Aurora’s hospital collaboration idea to the board to save both hospitals. Even offer up your job if it saves more people.

Take your LI home (minus Raf), where they break down emotionally, a rare sight for these LIs, and finally do the horizontal tango in a moment of complete emotional vulnerability. That’s right, everyone, the long awaited 30-diamond scene with 75% of the LIs! *Insert 10 million “Congrats on the sex!” gifs*

Remember your landlord, Farley? He sent you flowers earlier. Anyways, he has a suspicious looking rash on his wrist, and you offer to get it checked out pro bono, which means you’ll have to return to the hospital for the first time since the accident. I wonder how it’ll go. I guess we don’t have to wait long to find out.

Thoughts:

The LIs of this book are truly EliteTM and I’m so, so happy finally they’re getting their balanced screen time. If the first half of this book went the way it seems to be heading now in terms of LI treatment then we really could have had it all.

Don’t worry Raf stans, at least when you (hopefully) get your scene, he won’t be wheezing through it. Or maybe he will, for a different reason. Haha.

They changed a lot of the narration from the first chapter. I don’t know if I noticed because the first version resonated more with me, but the line about MC looking at the paper and seeing “They say that the people you love are never really gone” was removed. And initially there was only going to be one casket (any guesses on who it was supposed to be? That’s right). I did like the writing in the first one better, though.

Seeing everyone dealing with the trauma and the emotion really hurt hard. Seeing stoic Ethan’s fear, and the always-confident Bryce and Jackie break down in front of you, Sienna angry at the world despite being the most optimistic person in the book, Elijah and Aurora, and Raf and MC’s survivor’s guilt. It was heavy.

Remembering that the funeral was initially meant for Raf made me a whole lot sadder. Imagine the gang crying over him instead? Actually, don’t imagine that. We avoided a huge bullet.

Could MC’s recovery be symbolic of this book’s recovery back into the series we know and loved? Absolutely. Who let me get into the dumb metaphor and symbolism cabinet again? But I’m seriously excited for what’s in store for this book. Things seem to be heading up, and one can only hope for the best.

[ethanramseyyy]

OPEN HEART : THE SECOND YEAR CHAPTER 6

This chapter was so informative in so many different ways! The only thing missing was a kiss from Ethan on the yacht but we will get onto that.

THIS MOMENT! hands down the best thing to happen so far. We literally stripped I repeat STRIPPED in front of him. And the fact he went bright red and got all flustered is so funny and adorable. I loveee that they gave us that option, it was honestly one of my favourite moments of the book so far. I don’t know why but I loved that Ethan was the one to wake us up. He literally invited himself into the apartment and knocked on the bedroom door just to tell us to get our ass out of bed. And people try telling us he’s not in love with us. And then when we got into Baz’s Red Mini Cooper and he whispered that her name was Helen, I literally felt so happy that Baz was a character because he just lightens the mood in every scenario. I really want a scene with Baz and Zaid, I just want to see how they interact with each other

I didn’t take any screenshots from when we went to the patients house purely because I was so invested. However, I genuinely thought that the doctor was going to be Landry and not going to lie I would have loved that. Even though I hate him for what he did, I really want to see him at his new job. Maybe a part of that is just because I want to shout at him again but you know. Anyways, I love the rivalry between Ethan and The Mass Kenmore Guy (I already forgot his name oops!). But I am surprised that the storyline with us fighting to win the case only lasted one chapter, I don’t know why but when I was playing it I was expecting it to be a few chapters before we found out who won. Regardless, I’m glad we beat them. IN YOUR FACE LANDRY!

The diamond scene on the yacht was AMAZING! When he said ‘you make it difficult to focus it’ I literally giggled to myself like it was real. I’m pathetic I know but this is a big moment for us Ethan Stans Ok. ‘Ethan snorts out a little laugh’ this may be one of the cutest lines in both of the open heart books. I can just imagine his little laugh 😍 How precious. I just think the yacht scene was everything but I would be lying if I was to say I wasn’t expecting a kiss. Because let me tell you now, I was ready for us to have a 30 diamond scene on the yacht. But we are still waiting. This next 30 diamond scene better be E.P.I.C.

So who is this woman. I need to know. EMERY? HIRATA? I mean the guy did have a weird moment with her in the bedroom when he said her name and MC thought that he had beef with everyone. I just want to know. If it was Emery is he the reason Ethan and Harper broke up? I have so many questions but I doubt they will be answered as it was a diamond scene. Maybe if we have a scene in a later chapter where we find out about Harper and Ethan our questions may be answered.

Obviously we won because we are undeniably the best (and most iconic) diagnostics team around. Honestly I just want to know if this guys money is going to help the hospital and if so how? And why was he so quick to pick us. I think it was very strange that after us and the Mass Kenmore doctors were in his house there was no other mention of them or how they were doing in the competition and then all of a sudden we are diagnosing him and we won the competition. Not that I’m complaining we won but the whole storyline seemed slightly rushed to me. But that might just be me being extremely picky.

This is random but I really want to know what Jackie is up to. She seemed sooo angry with Declan Nash and although he is the biggest pain in the ass ever, it’s very suspicious that she had all those drug samples from Paneca Labs. I really want to investigate what’s she doing and I just hope she doesn’t do something stupid where she nearly loses her medical licence. Because we all know how that goes down.

Overall, I did really enjoy this chapter and thought it was so fun to play. I love that we are getting more doctor experiences now we are in the diagnostics team and I think choices have found the perfect balance between story based content and doctor based content to make the book enjoyable for most readers. Let me know your thoughts and opinions about this chapter! I hope everyone is staying safe during this uncertain time. If anyone needs anyone to talk to whilst in lockdown or just in general I’m always open to message people!

[sweet-steddie]

Party Pooper (e.d. & g.d.)

Summary: @love-youu-softly​ suggested that I write about a situation in which the reader is jealous of other girls and this is how I decided to write out that vision. I hope I did it justice!

A/N: I’m sorry that it’s taken me over a week to post a second imagine! I’m a full time senior undergrad student, so I’ve had a hellishly busy schedule this semester. Regardless, I will try to post content as often as I possibly can! The feedback that I got on “Love Fest” is truly astounding and I thank everyone so much for their kind words! Hope this one doesn’t disappoint either!

3.6k+

 “Will there be any dogs at the party?” I ask, absentmindedly pointing my feet toward my bedroom ceiling, back cushioned by the soft comforter draped over my mattress. My cell phone is on speaker, so my fingers are free to draw mindless shapes into the cushy fabric as I await a response.

 “Probably not. He happens to care that I’m allergic, so I think he said that the dog’ll be at a friend’s for the night,”comes Grayson’s reply in regards to our friend who’s hosting the party. I roll my eyes. It’s amazing to me, sometimes, that he claims to be the least dramatic out of he and his twin brother. “Why do you care if there’s gonna be a dog there, anyway? I’ll be there and I’m all you need. I’m way better than a dog,” he continues and I huff out a mock-dramatic breath. Really, I’m silently marveling over how pronounced his New Jersey accent has become in the span of just a few short sentences. It’s so cute and it always sneaks up on him and he never seems to notice.

 “Grayson,” I cut him off before he can continue his rambling.

 “What?” he asks, faux-sour attitude seeping through the speaker.

 “I’ve never heard a stronger New Jersey accent in my life. In my whole, entire life,” I emphasize and I hear Ethan’s sudden burst of laughter shortly afterward.

 “I’m hanging up now,” is all Grayson says, but even through the phone I can hear his smile. Ethan’s still laughing.

 “Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” I pretend to apologize as I click my acrylic nails rhythmically against one another. Grayson and I are currently - well, we’re supposed to be - in the middle of a conversation regarding a party that he, Ethan and I have been invited to tonight that’s scheduled to kick off in a few hours’ time. “Back to what you were saying before. About the attire,” I attempt to steer the conversation back on track.

 “Yes, as I was saying: I think I’m gonna wear that new shirt you bought me, the cropped one. And my jeans. And you’d look really hot in that pink shirt. The one with-“ he starts, only for Ethan to interject.

 “The one with the little bows that criss-crosses on her chest! Ah, dude, yes. That one’s so hot!” he blurts out and I hear the distinct sound of what’s most certainly the twins’ palms meeting in a high-five. I outwardly scoff at their boyish antics, but I internally pat myself on the back for snagging that pink shirt online a few weeks prior.

 “Anyway,” Grayson addresses me again, “we’re planning on getting there at around 11:30. So we’ll pick you up at 10:45?” he proposes.

 “Sounds good to me! See you in,” I pause to check the time, “two hours.”

 “And before you go,” Grayson quickly cuts in, “just know that you’re staying at our’s tonight. And the next night. And probably the night after that.” I pretend like my heart doesn’t speed up at the demand.

 “Yes, sir,” I respond drily and I hear him hum in satisfaction at the term I’ve chosen.

 “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” is all he responds and then he pauses, letting it linger between us. I bite my bottom lip. I hate when they do this. The twins have a tendency to be very suggestive and I know they’re joking, or at least I think they are. And it just further blurs the lines that are already blurred between us.

 I realize that I’ve let the silence linger for a while by opting out of a reply. Before I can fumble out a response, Grayson takes over again. “See you soon, baby,” he says before I hear the three beeps indicating that the call has been ended. I’ve just about chewed the skin off of my lower lip at this point. Through this phone call, alone, I can deduce that this night is sure to be long and eventful.

 The party is in full swing by the time that we arrive. We take the time to scan our surroundings and the protective presence of Grayson’s hand on my lower back and Ethan’s not too far above his are pleasantly warm to the touch. My arms are crossed, but I want nothing more than to grab onto my boys. Given the rumors that are already circulating about our supposed three-way relationship, however, I figure that it’s best not to draw any more attention to our over-friendliness. Though, having people think that I’m dating two of some of the most gorgeous guys in Los Angeles isn’t that horrible a hassle.

 I take a split second to check out my boys. Grayson’s wearing the crop top I bought for him, as promised, and the maroon fabric is striking against his skin. My eyes trail down over his defined hipbones and hard, flat stomach and tantalizing V-line and I kind of get lost in the sight of him for a moment. So much so that, when my eyes finally find their will to snap back up, Grayson’s smirking knowingly at me. He gives me a very obvious once over of his own and then fixes me with a piercing stare that has me squirming in place.

 I shake my head at him, but my cheeks feel like they’re positively glowing with warmth as I fix my eyes, next, onto Ethan. He’s still scanning the scene, nodding at a few people here and there. I take a moment to admire the scruff that he’s allowed himself to grow out over the past few weeks. His hair looks messy in the sexiest way possible. He’s wearing a white T-shirt that shows off his defined abdomen and strains a bit across his chest. And Ethan in white is just, well. It’s a sight. He dons a pair of black, ripped jeans and the hint of his thigh tattoos peak out teasingly.

 “She’s staring at us, E,” Grayson teases, effectively blowing my cover. I scowl at him and hide my face in my hands as both boys cheekily laugh at my expense. I reach back to shove off both of their hands, throwing up a middle finger for good measure. They laugh in my face and I fight back a smile of my own as I spin around on the spot and begin to make my way through the room. I hear their protests behind me and I turn my head back as I continue to walk away, noticing that they’re approaching while wearing adorable twin pouts. Before they can get too far, a throng of three or four people greet them and they’re caught up in conversation before long.

 I smile to myself before turning back around and scouting out the mini bar. My boys are so popular. Just as I’m thinking this, I hear my name being called and spin around to face a friend of mine that I haven’t seen in much too long. We instantly rush toward each other and meet in a hug.

 “I’ve missed you,” she chirps as we finally separate and before I can even reciprocate, she continues, “are you here with your boy toys tonight?” and she raises a suggestive eyebrow that has me lightly shoving her shoulder, but blushing nonetheless.

 “I don’t know what boy toys you’re referring to, but I am here with Grayson and Ethan,” I confirm, playing off the butterflies in my stomach as nerves and not as the fluttering satisfaction of having someone else call the twins my boy toys. My friend looks unconvinced.

 “Yeah, alright,” she drawls, chuckling jokingly before pointing her thumb over her shoulder, “should we go get drinks?”

 “Thought you’d never ask!” And that’s how we find ourselves grabbing a couple of drinks and then scurrying over to the first available seat, which conveniently happens to offer us a view of the whole room. The perfect people-watching spot. Over the course of several events involving my friend and I both being on the guest list, we’ve come to the unspoken agreement that the best way to enjoy a party is to sit off to the side with a drink and gossip.

 As we settle onto the plush loveseat, people stop by every few minutes to chat and then move along, allowing us to mostly have time to ourselves to catch up. I swill my finger around the rim of my almost-empty glass of wine and register the pleasant buzz engulfing me. I’m genuinely enjoying myself as I shamelessly gaze upon my surroundings. I distantly wonder where the twins have gone, but I figure that they’re likely catching up with friends.

 “Uh, who are they?” comes my friend’s snarky voice from next to me and I quickly turn to face her, silently begging for an explanation for her sudden hostility. She appears to be glaring holes into something ahead of her and she never breaks her gaze as she nods in the direction of what she’s referring to. I follow her line of sight and end up staring at the twins. And the two girls who are being chatted up by them.

 My stomach twists into a knot, on-sight. My jaw tenses immediately. My cheeks are unbearably hot and my whole body feels warm and my skin feels prickly. The fingers of my free hand are involuntarily clenching up to form a small fist. Simply put, I feel without a doubt, undeniably, disgustingly jealous. I watch as Grayson inches slightly closer to the girl on the right as he continues to tell what is so obviously a joke. Ethan stands beside him, chiming in once in a while and I see the girls’ shoulders shake with laughter. My eyes roll back far enough in my head to see my brain.

 I forget, for a moment, that I have company until my friend scoffs beside me. I try my hardest to fix my face just as she’s turning her attention back to me. “Your boyfriends look like they’re having a good time,” she digs, taking another hearty swig of her drink. That’s what I love about her: she teases me until the sun goes down about my relationship with the boys, but she’s always on my side and has my best interest at heart at the end of the day. And in this case, “being by my side” entails staring daggers into the backs of the girls’ heads that are currently demanding all of the twins’ attention.

 “They aren’t my boyfriends. They can talk to other girls if they want. Hell, they could use some girlfriends if you ask me!” I’m laying it on thick in the hopes that my friend won’t detect my wounded, sour mood. “I’m sure those are lovely girls. And the twins deserve some lovely girls,” the bitterness is starting to involuntarily seep into my words. I quickly down the rest of my glass of wine in place of saying anything else incriminating. Against my will, I maintain eye contact throughout my rambling, so as not to give myself away. My friend raises her eyebrows, but shrugs.

 “If you’re okay, I’m okay,” she sounds unconvinced, but I think she can sense that I don’t wish for the conversation to go any further, so she mercifully drops the topic. She selves into something lighter - pop culture, I think; something about Twitter - and I do my best to keep up, but my eyes just can’t seem to drift away from the cozy party of four standing ahead of me. I catch the movement of well-manicured fingers resting gently on Grayson’s bicep. My nostrils flare slightly as I watch Ethan’s eyes drop to one of the girl’s lips every now and then. Both boys are huge on eye contact and it seems that neither of them have blinked in ages.

 I know I’m being ridiculous. Ethan and Grayson aren’t mine to be jealous over, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from folding in on itself as I watch the scene before me unfurl.  Suddenly, I feel uncomfortable in my own skin; embarrassed to be moping on a couch in the middle of a party while my good friends and nothing more, I guess flirt with a couple of girls. What had I expected? For the boys to stay single forever and neglect their love life to be at my beck and call? As I pretend to keep up with the conversation that my friend is providing - and she’s trying so hard, bless her soul - I come to the realization that I have, in fact, expected this. Somewhere deep down, I’ve hoped against hope that I would be number one in the twins’ lives, always.

 A group of familiar faces soon surrounds my friend and I and, before long, they’re filling the empty seats around us. I put on my happiest, I’m-fine-and-totally-not-jealous face and greet them properly. I jovially chime into the conversation here and there for a matter of minutes before I realize that I can no longer keep up this charade. I allow myself to glance in the direction of where the boys were earlier and am none too pleased to find them still there with the same company that they’ve held for the past half hour, at least. I let out a dramatic yawn and cover my mouth halfway through.

 “As you can see, I’m tired. I think I’m gonna call it a night, but I better see you guys again!” I point a finger at the group of people around me, wagging it in a mock-accusatory manner. I’m met with a chorus of Aw, don’t leave’s and Stay’s and You just got here’s and I at least have the decency to act like I don’t actually want to leave. “I know, guys! But we’ll all plan something for next week, okay? Dinner?” I propose and this seems to satisfy the group somewhat.

 My friend who had sat with me through it all and was there to see my mood change knows better and she gives me a sympathetic pout. I find her eye and discreetly wink. When it’s our turn to hug goodbye, she whispers a “text me when you get home,” and I give her an extra squeeze for her concern, promising that I will. With one last wave to my group of friends, I make my way toward the front door but realize midway through that I should probably let the twins know that I’m leaving, which will surely turn into a whole thing. I scowl at the prospect of having to witness their little rendezvous up close, but head in their direction nonetheless.

 As I draw closer to them, I realize that they haven’t even noticed me approaching due to their enthrallment with their little gal pals. For the umpteenth time this evening, I fix my face, this time into a facade of tiredness. I’m damn near standing next to the boys before their attention finally breaks. Ethan is the first to acknowledge me, shuffling over to where I am to throw an arm around my shoulder and scoop me into his side. “Hi, stranger,” he teases, alluding to the fact that we’ve been separated all night. I watch as the girl he’s been speaking to eyes me up. She and her friend look threatened as they gaze upon our comfortable body language.

 When I catch them staring, they quickly fake polite smiles. I fake back a smile of my own and nod my acknowledgment of them, then I look up to address Ethan. “Hi,” I all but sigh, getting thrown off track by those big doe eyes that he’s setting on me right now. The arm that’s hanging limply by my side is soon being hooked by one of Grayson’s arms, causing my attention to shift to him.

 “Is everything okay?” he asks, forever in protective mode, looking me over for any signs of obvious distress. I crack a little smile at that, shaking my head. He visibly relaxes a bit before giving me a little smile of his own. “Good.”

 “I just wanted to let you guys know that I’m heading out early. I’m just beat all of a sudden. But I’ll take an Uber! Text me to let me know you guys made it home safe,” I say, going to gently disentangle myself from them both, but of course, it’s never that easy.

 “I thought you were staying over,” Ethan pipes up, beginning to rub up and down on my outer arm with the hand that’s thrown over my shoulders, “so we might as well take you.” he reasons and Grayson doesn’t hesitate to agree.

 “Yeah, we’re not gonna make you pay for Uber when we can drive you and we’re all going to the same place,” he rationalizes, clearly having already made up his mind and I catch a glance of the girls’ faces who’ve witnessed this whole conversation and their expressions are honestly priceless. I figure that there’s no use in arguing with the boys at this point, so I simply shrug my shoulders and nod.

 “Okay,” I give in easily enough. Without even disentangling themselves from me, the boys graciously bid their female companions adieu. And I even throw in a friendly farewell of my own before the twins and I are making our way to the nearest exit. The look of bewilderment on both girls’ faces is enough to get me through the next several weeks, at the very least.

 As the boys and I eventually make it to the car and hop in, Ethan gets into the driver’s seat and Grayson slides into the back with me this time. I’m not complaining. Ethan pulls out of the massive driveway and back onto the street as we begin our next journey back to the twins’ house. Grayson has his arm around me and is cradling me to his chest, where my head is resting comfortably and, for a few minutes, the sound of the radio is all that fills the car.

 “Why weren’t you gonna come back to our’s at first?” Ethan asks, breaking the calm for a moment. Grayson stays silent but I can feel the movement of his head tilting down to catch my response. So clearly, I decide to pay dumb.

 “What do you mean?” I creatively come up with.

 “You know, earlier, when you told us to text you when we got home. You already packed an overnight bag to stay with us. What happened?” he asks and he sounds genuinely curious and maybe a little bit wounded. I take longer than I should to reply.

 “Well, I saw you guys, you know,” I trail off, body positively recoiling at myself and my genius idea to bring up what I’m about to bring up, “with those girls earlier and I figured, you know? If you guys were gonna bring them home, I didn’t wanna be, like, a fifth wheel and a burden.” I word-vomit all over the back seat. It doesn’t help that neither boy says anything for several seconds. In my fit of humiliation, I keep my eyes downcast and I don’t catch the silent exchange that Ethan and Grayson share through the rearview mirror.

 “Were you jealous?” Grayson eventually accuses and I just about combust at the spot-on observation.

 “No! No, not jealous. Just, you know,” I revert back to my nervous you know tick before trailing off again and this time, I hear Ethan snickering from the front seat and I can just feel Grayson’s smirk.

 “Yeah, you’re jealous,” Grayson confirms out loud, as if I’ve given him all the evidence he needs to arrive at this conclusion. I shove him away and hide my face in my hands for the second time tonight, glowing with embarrassment, as his booming laughter takes up the backseat. Ethan’s laughter mixes in a taunting harmony with his brother’s.

 “Am not,” I meekly and childishly assert, though it quickly gets lost in the symphony of roaring laughter around me.

 “Awwwww,” Grayson coos teasingly, pulling me back into him without much fuss. He breaks away for a moment to unbuckle both of our seatbelts before latching back onto me once more, gently rocking us from side to side.  When the boys calm down a bit, Grayson rests his head close enough to my ear to mutter, “you have nothing to worry about.”

 My heart predictably picks up speed and I hope that Grayson can’t feel it with the way that we’re fused together.

 “Ever,” Ethan’s quick to add in regards to my insecurities. Already embarrassed enough as it is, all I do is huff out a breath, causing Grayson to laugh again.

 “She’s still pouting, Ethan,” he points out and from the corner of my eye, I see Ethan shake his head fondly.

 “Guess we’re gonna have to spoil her when we get home,” he responds nonchalantly and my resolve is crumbling at lightening speed. I feel Grayson shrug a shoulder.

 “Guess so,” he agrees, giving me a couple of affectionate squeezes. I burrow my nose into the space right beneath his jaw because I’m tired of acting like this isn’t exactly what I was hoping for all night. He returns my gesture, nuzzling his nose against my forehead for a moment.

 In my state of bliss, I take a moment to reflect upon the night. I think about how jealousy had coursed through my veins, matching the buzz from the glass of wine that I’d had. I think about how I’d had to confront the idea that I felt a selfish possessiveness over the boys that a part of me always hoped, foolishly, that they would return. And I think, now, engulfed in the pleasantly crushing weight of Grayson’s arms, about how that idea may not have been so foolish after all.

[dolantwinsfavss]

Without You {e.d}

@mavelfanatic said:Hi!!❤️❤️ I was wondering if you can write a one shot about Ethan where the reader rushes to meet him at the hospital after his motorcycle accident (happened a while ago tho) and it’s all fluffy and she doesn’t know what she would do without him??❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

You took one last look in the mirror as you just finished getting ready for your date with your boyfriend Ethan. He simply told you to be ready by 7 P.M. and that the rest was a surprise. You loved the surprise dates he took you on, they were easily one of your favorite parts of your relationship with Ethan. Before every date, you still got that excited, yet nervous feeling from the very first date he took you on. 

*flashback*

Your heart was racing a mile a minute, you could have sworn you had never been this nervous for a date before. You really liked Ethan and have hung out a bunch of times before but this time was different because it could potentially be the start of the relationship you had been wanting for so long. What if I mess up? What if he doesn’t like me? What if I say something stupid?

A knock on the door interrupted you from your thoughts and that’s when you felt your heart sink to your stomach. He was here. Your palms began to sweat and your stomach began to feel uneasy. Oh gosh I can’t do this...

The second you opened the door, he looked at you up and down, staring at you with wide eyes. Oh gosh he hates this outfit. I look so ugly. I knew I should’ve picked the black dress. He must of realized he was staring and snapped out of his longing gaze and said, “I um I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare. Y-You look absolutely amazing.” And so did he.

You looked away from him so he wouldn’t see the blush creeping onto your cheeks and mumbled a quiet “Thanks.”

“I uh I got these for you.” Ethan said while pulling a bouquet of flowers behind his back and handing it to you. It was of your favorite flowers.

“Wow. These are beautiful. They’re my favorite. Thank you.” You said smiling, taking the flowers from him and setting them in a vase before returning to him.

“I know. You told me a couple of weeks ago.” You couldn’t believed he remembered that.

“You ready to go?” He said holding his hand out for you to take.

“Yeah.” You said taking his hand and him guiding you out to his car.

The second your hand touched his, all of your nerves from before went away. You knew from the beginning that this boy was truly something else.

*end of flashback*

7:05. Maybe Ethan was just running a bit late, nothing to worry about but you sent him a message anyways, “Hey text me when you’re here.”

7:15. Okay, Ethan was never this late. Is he okay? So you called, only to get his voicemail. “Hey E... I’m getting a little worried. I hope you’re okay. Just text me okay?”

7:30. Five calls, six text messages later and no reply. Ethan... Where are you?

7:40. Another voicemail, “Hey Ethan. It’s me again. Please tell me you’re okay. I’m really worried. Did something happen?”

7:45. Ethan Dolan please tell me you’re okay.

Suddenly your phone rang and you quickly answered it, “Ethan? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Y/N... It’s me, Grayson.” His voice sounded a little shaky.

“Gray? What’s wrong? Have you seen Ethan? He was supposed to pick me up at 7 and I’m get-” You had a habit of babbling when you got worried. I hope Ethan’s okay...

“Y/N... Ethan had an accident. We’re at the hospital. He’s okay.” The second you heard the word accident, you were already out the door and in your car off to the hospital. Nothing else mattered to you other than Ethan.

It was always Ethan.

You quickly arrived at the hospital and ran inside. But no matter how hard you pushed your feet into the ground, it felt as if it took an eternity to get to Ethan.

You didn’t know what you would do if something happened to him. Just the thought of losing him scared you. To you, Ethan was everything. He was the person you could always trust. The person you always loved.

You finally saw Grayson. You could tell that he was worried and had been crying. You’ve never seen Grayson so hurt until now. 

“Gray where is he? Is he okay?! What happened?” You asked him with panic in your voice.

“Y/N he’s okay. Just shaken up a bit. He got into a motorcycle accident.” 

You turned to see Ethan laying in the hospital bed, a sight you never wished to see. He looked so pale and so tired. Your heart broke as you started to cry.

“Hey he’s going to be okay.” Grayson said giving you a hug before pulling away and saying, “I’ll give you guys some alone time.” 

You walked closer to him and sat in the chair next to him, taking his hand into yours. You could see his bruised and bloody knuckles and a small gash on his “Can’t Fold” tattoo.

This boy truly meant everything to you. Even seeing him like this, put thoughts in your head you had always feared most and that was losing Ethan. You never forgive yourself if something happened to him. You placed a kiss on his hand and laid your head down whispering, “Please I can’t lose you... I can’t live without you.”

Ethan’s eyes began to flutter open and the first thing he saw was you. “Hey there pretty girl...” Ethan said with a raspy voice and wrapping his hand around yours.

The moment you heard his voice you got up and hugged him. “Ow... Still in a lot of pain here.” Ethan said wincing with a slight chuckle.

You pulled away and mumbled a quickly sorry. “When Gray called me, my heart sunk E... What happened out there?”

He shifted a bit uncomfortably, unsure if he should tell you. “I-I was on your way to your house and I don’t know what happened? I just spaced out and I lost control...”

As much as you were glad he was okay, you were still upset at his actions so you gave him a light slap on the arm. “Ow! What was that for? I just had an accident you know?” He said trying to lighten the mood.

“Because you are not the smartest guy sometimes Ethan Grant Dolan. What were you thinking?!” You said back before tears began to form in your eyes again. “Wh-What if something happened to you?”

Ethan quickly noticed the pain in your voice and the tears forming in your eyes and put a hand to your cheek, “Hey... Hey I’m here okay? I’m right here. I’m okay.” 

“I know... I know but I was thinking about what if you weren’t okay? I wouldn’t be able to wake up next to you anymore. No more fun adventures. No more surprise dates... I-I just can’t imagine life without you Ethan...” You fell back into his chest and continued to sob. “And I thought about all of the things I would never be able to experience with you. I wouldn’t want to experience that with anyone else.”

“Shhh...” Ethan began to sooth you and run fingers through your hair. “Nothing is going to happen to me. Nothing is going to come between us. Because... I love you.”

You and Ethan never said those words to each other not until now.

You quickly pulled away, still not believing he said those words. “Y-You what?”

“I said I love you. I’ve loved you since the night of our first date. I love you Y/N L/N.” Ethan said looking up at you with bright eyes.

“I love you too.” You both leaned in and kissed each other so passionately as if all of the worries in the world went away. This boy was truly something else

You snuggled closer to his chest and intertwined his hand with yours. “Please don’t go anywhere Ethan. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you and don’t worry. I promise you I’m not going anywhere. I love you way too much to let you go.” He said before placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you too Ethan.” You mumbled into his chest before you both fell asleep, putting an end to a very long night.

[loveislattes]

Baby Girl (Teamiplier) Angst drabble

Don’t even ask me where this came from. It was written on a sleep deprived, chaotic, exhausted mind lol. I’m honestly not sure if I’m even keeping it up because it’s trash.

Angst/some fluff.

Warnings: Talk of infidelity, talks of smut, minor suicidal thinking, cursing, and c-sections.

Reader makes the mistake of falling for Dark’s manipulations and it comes with long lasting repercussions. How will she and everyone handle the news?

Sweat poured down my body in spades as I woke with a husky moan.

Once again I was having that dream. Although it was more of a memory than a dream.

During my sleep, my subconscious had taken a liking to replaying the feeling of his skin upon mine; torturing me with what I will never have again, nor should I have ever had to begin with.

It was wrong in all senses. It felt like the worst non-violent crime I could have committed, and yet I woke with wet panties and moans tearing up my throat every night the last week or so.

It had been almost three months since we'd had our week of debauchery, yet the smell of his sweat and the taste of his cum was still ingrained in my head.

I'd blocked it out for so long after it happened and now it was haunting me.

I never should have agreed to it but I, like many others, was weak to Dark's temptations. Unlike I expected though, he didn't manipulate me for any horrid means, simply latched onto my desire for him... for Mark, and used it for a week of unbridled, untamed, passionate sex up in the cabin in the woods.

The worst part of it, was the fact it technically had been Mark, with Dark behind the steering wheel.

Unbeknownst to himself or Amy, he'd technically cheated on her with me, the worst friend in the universe.

That's why I had to leave. The guilt of it was too strong. I felt like jumping from the roof any time Amy gave me a hug, or Mark assured me that I would always be one of his best friends. How could I have ever...

I hated myself.

So I packed up with a lame excuse of coming to live with my family again and they bought it easily.

The worst part was only beginning though. I was sicker than I'd ever been, in the most unusual ways, and where my brain went, I only hoped I was wrong and I was just dying instead.

…

When I woke up for good after another harrowing night of dreams and immediately started puking, I knew I had to do something. Anything to find out the source of it. If my fears were correct... I just hoped and prayed they weren't.

Instead of spending money on useless tests at the store, I contacted my doctor's office and went to them for the test.

I felt like throwing up from nerves instead of nausea the moment I stepped into the office.

As if the nursing staff could sense my dread, they tried to keep the conversation upbeat and talked about their winter plans since Christmas was coming up.

My nurse left me in the doctor's office alone after I gave them my sample, and I pulled out my phone.

As badly as I wanted to call Mark or Ethan or Kathryn, I couldn't. No one knew and I wasn't sure if they ever would.

A rap on the door brought my eyes up from my phone background of the whole group together. Once I met her gaze, I knew the answer and the tears started.

What had I done?

…

Within two days I was brought in for an ultrasound to date the pregnancy. I knew I was somewhere around ten to twelve weeks, since that was the first and only time I'd had sex without protection, and hadn't touched a single person since then.

The screen filled with indiscernible blacks and whites suddenly made sense when the technician zeroed in on a baby shaped blob. It was small but there was a distinct head, body, arms, and legs.

She took the measurements and I was informed it was eleven weeks along. My due date was approximately July 2nd and just like that I vomited all over the floor.

Because of a brash, idiotic mistake, I was going to be bringing a baby into the world alone.

…

I fought with myself for so long. I needed a support system, I needed my friends. I was torn between going back to them and just lying, or staying away forever. Another part of my brain argued that Mark deserved to know, to have a chance with his child, but the rest of me feared he'd just end up hating me for it and I'd lose him forever.

It was with a heavy heart that I boarded a plane at thirty weeks pregnant headed for California. I'd taken up seeing a counselor to deal with my emotions over the baby, my little girl I'd come to find out at twenty four weeks. I didn't give her all the details, but the basics, and she talked me into seeing Mark and telling him.

I figured Mark would resent me if he ever found out I'd kept him from potentially seeing his child, more than if he found out what happened so long ago.

…

To my utter heartbreak, Mark, Amy, Ethan, Tyler, Pam, and Kathryn were all waiting for me outside the airport.

Each one understandably looked shocked when I got closer to them; my belly was large in the form fitted dress I was wearing.

“How- Why- Is this why you left?” Ethan stumbled out first.

“Yes and no. I didn't find out until a while after leaving,” I explained in a quiet voice, “Can we get to the house before anyone asks too many questions?”

Amy hugged me in answer, then Ethan followed, and Kathryn and Tyler. When Mark came in for a hug, I noticed the confused look on his face.

“Why didn't you tell us? Tell me?” he whispered.

My lips trembled as I tried to answer, tried to lie, but all that came out was a soft whimper as I buried my face in his shoulder and cried the tears that were a long time coming.

…

All the questions came out once we stepped foot in the house.

“30 weeks and three days.”

“A girl.”

“No I don't have a name yet.”

“The father is a complicated situation.”

The last one killed me to answer. Instinctively I looked to Mark for reassurance and he reached over to squeeze my hand.

“I think that's enough for now. Do you wanna get set up in the guest room?” he offered.

I nodded and bid the others farewell for now as I snagged up the few bags I brought. As I followed him up the stairs to the all familiar room that I'd lived in before, a knot of dread tied itself tight in my stomach.

I closed the door behind me and barely managed to whisper, “Mark, we need to talk.”

Those deep brown eyes that I still dreamed about met my bright ones in curiosity.

“I had a feeling there was something you didn't want to say in front of everyone. What's going on? You know I've always got your back.”

The tears burst forth again at that. Through strangled sobs and gasps for air, I explained everything.

I moved as far away as I could as I spewed the story forth, looking at my feet on the floor and feeling lower than the dirt on my shoes.

I didn't deserve to be in here, in his home.

Once I finished my monologue, I wrapped my arms over my belly and chewed hard on my lip until it hurt and bled.

Almost worse than what I had expected, I was greeted with silence. I built up the courage to look at him and found him staring with an awed expression.

“Say something?” I begged almost silently, “Scream at me, or slap me, or something! Come on!”

I swiped the tears from my cheeks and sniffled loudly as I tried to compose myself.

“I can leave and never mention this again. No one knows I'm pregnant except you all now, but they don't have to know the how and why. I won't bother you for child support, or-”

“Why- How could you think so lowly of me?” Mark cut in.

My words stopped and I gaped at him. Instinctively I flinched when he stepped forward, but my stance relaxed when he placed a hand to my belly.

“I'm pissed, but not at you, Y/N. We all know how manipulative that bastard is. I'm just glad he didn't hurt you, or worse! The situation is less than ideal... but we'll make it work. I'm just- I can't believe it. A girl you said right?”

Eyes as wide as possible, I simply stared at him, a loss for words or understanding.

“Y/N, you have to know I wouldn't be mad at you for this? Come on. Besides Tyler, you're my oldest friend. If anything I'm a little upset you didn't tell me before now, but all that matters is you did.”

Speechless, I nodded slightly in agreement.

“Come here, pipsqueak,” he sighed, suddenly pulling me into a hug.

“I've been so scared,” I whispered, “I thought you were going to hate me either way. I'm so, so, so fucking sorry, Mark.”

“Shh.”

My eyes closed against more tears as he ran his hand over my hair gently.

“What, if anything, are we telling them?” I finally asked when I could speak clearly.

“I don't know honestly. I'm not letting you walk away from here again though. You still have this room as yours, and there's plenty of room in here for her as well. They all know Dark, and understand him. Amy understands all too well,” he grumbled the last part.

I winced as I remembered how Dark had played with her emotions long before he did mine. He tortured her with apathy towards her and acting as if it were Mark hating her.

“Let's just take this one step at a time okay. Move back in here, let's get space set up for her, get you a good doctor, everything you need we can do. We'll make this work, okay?”

Nodding, I pulled away and wiped at my eyes with a distraught sigh. Mark squeezed my shoulder and flashed me a sympathetic smile.

…

The day our baby girl came was one of beauty and horror. Mark and I had agreed on a name that honored both our mothers in a way. He and Amy were by my side the entire time, as much as they could be anyway. I never imagined it would be like that when the delivery day came, but Amy and Mark were both too good to hate me for what happened.

I didn't deserve forgiveness. Not. One. Bit.

So when I had to be sliced open for an emergency Cesarean, and I fainted during it, I questioned if that was it. If that was where it ended; a payback for my wrong doing.

I was shocked to find myself waking back up to the sound of little whimpers and soft voices talking. Someone was holding my hand so tight it hurt.

Everyone looked as if they were seeing a ghost when I opened my eyes and spoke up; they all froze and stared. After a moment I realized it was Mark by my side holding my hand, Amy next to him holding Y/D/N with Tyler and Ethan at the foot of the bed.

Once I saw Y/D/N, I silently reached out.

“Hey, don't move so fast. I'll bring her to you,” Mark chided softly.

“What happened?” I asked as I gently shifted in the bed.

A pained curse escaped my lips as my stomach felt as if it were still an open wound while I moved. I swallowed down the pain and held my arms open as Mark brought our daughter open.

“You lost too much blood,” Amy filled in the silence as my baby girl was put in my arms.

I looked up as I heard a sniffle and was mildly surprised to find Mark crying.

“What...?”

“You almost died Y/N,” he finally said gruffly, “We were minutes from losing you forever. I- We were so scared. Thankfully Y/D/N was healthy but... they kicked me out and wouldn't tell any of us anything until you were mostly stable. Uh... she was seven pounds and twelve ounces, twenty one inches long.”

As I listened to him describing holding her for the first time, I let my eyes drift back down to her. She had dark brown hair and her skin was a warm tone. She had a soft round face with big cheeks.

Tears flooded my eyes as I held back a sob and cradled her closer.

“She's perfect,” I whispered.

“Yes she is,” Amy replied, “She looks so much like both of you already.”

I caught her gaze and searched for any negative emotions but all I saw was love.

“She's going to be so spoiled, you know that right?” Tyler said suddenly, “Between all of us and the families? She's never going to want for anything.”

“Nope, and she's never going to have a boyfriend,” Ethan added with a chuckle.

I had to grin at that statement.

“Amen. Much agreed! Between two uncles, an aunt, dadiplier, and two moms, she's gonna have it made,” I replied.

I saw the shock flit across Amy's face and sent her a smile.

“Don't look so surprised. You're gonna be step-mom at the very least, if she doesn't look at you like a full second mom,” I informed her, “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” she whispered.

Even from a bed away I could see the tears shining in her eyes before she excused herself to the bathroom.

Despite so much happiness and chaos, deep down there was still that twinge of guilt. A part of me felt like maybe I shouldn't have made it off the surgery table.

Mark pulled me from my thoughts when he ran his hand down my hair.

“Thank you.”

[atypical60]

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND. MANY HAVE WONDERED.  MANY HAVE ASKED.

HERE YOU GO!

A couple of readers are curious as to how Bonaparte and I came to be a couple and I thought it would make for a fun post so here goes! I hope you enjoy….

Joséphine de Beauharnais and Napoleon Bonaparte

Seriously Josephine. Get outta my way. The Frenchman is mine!

The story of little loud-mouthed girl from New York and baguette loving little French Parisian boy….

My divorce wreaked some havoc—especially havoc in the form of a horrific financial downfall.   My oldest son was away in Austin at University of Texas. My middle son, my daughter and I were now housed in a small apartment. I may have lost our home, but at least there was a roof overhead.

It wasn’t easy. The water and electricity were constantly being shut off—so much so that the staff at Trenton Water Authority knew me by my first name. But—they were always pleasant and I always managed to scrape up enough cash to have the water put back on. Ditto the electricity.

I’ll skip some other bad stuff that I don’t want to get into. But—after a while, it was time to get back on the social train. I was signed up for a “trial” of 30 days on “Match.com”. I had two meetings over coffee, but just figured I was better off alone. Anyway, a couple of days before my “trial” ended, I figured I would peruse through the pickin’s.

Yes. We met on Match.com!

I stopped at a picture of a man in a light blue crew-neck sweater. I could tell it was wool and not polyester—that grabbed my shallow attention. Then I noticed this gentleman’s eyes were as blue as the color of the sweater. This gentleman appeared to be very distinguished. Something I was not. In fact I was sitting at the computer in granny pants and an old, holey T-Shirt.

I then went on to read his profile. He liked art (check); New York City (check, check, check); fine food (sorta check—I was cooking for teens but I love me a great and fancy meal!) and tennis (uncheck). OK –so three out of four wasn’t bad.

I love art..especially Renoir, so it was a good thing Bonaparte had a good appreciation–I mean, he’s French afterall…..

Given the fact he loved my home town, was also a plus!

Then I noticed where he was born and raised. Paris, France.

I had heard that Parisians were the rather “difficult” of all the Frenchmen–and women!

Oh.

Now, you need to understand something—I fed into that whole “Oh-the-French-hate-Americans” thing. Yes. After 9/11 I had a propensity to refer to “French Fries” as “Freedom” fries.

Yup! I don’t necessarily like fried potatoes, but I did refer to them as “freedom” fries. These days I just call them “Frites”!

I learned every single stereotypical image about the French from cartoons and TV shows.

Yes. My educational on French stereotypes were from “great” sources…

…although sometimes Pepe Le Pew is easier to understand.

However, something inside me, perhaps it was the contrarian or the curiosity, made me write a little blurb to him. It went something like this:

“So, you like art. Impressionism? It’s my fave. I love Renoir. You like NYC? I lived there for many years!” “You got an accent?” (THAT was a dopey question)

He wrote back. We spent a bit of time writing back and forth. I finally wrote to him that my “trial” was about to expire and I gave him my email address and told him to just shoot me an email.

We emailed back and forth and he asked me for my phone number. I gave it to him. He called. He had a very heavy accent that was somewhat hard to understand. But, we kept talking.

He asked me out—that last weekend of November 2004. Actually, Thanksgiving weekend. I explained to him that I could not make it because my daughter had a regional Irish Dance competition in Philadelphia and would be busy from Thanksgiving evening through that Sunday. (Yay! Party time at the Mid-Atlantic Regional Oireachtas!) Anyone involved in Irish Dance is fully-aware that you never make plans that conflict with those Thanksgiving weekend regionals!

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Irish Dance competitions, especially the Oireachtas, takes top priority. Over EVERYTHING!!! (spoken like a true dance mom)!

He asked if I wanted to meet him the following Friday. Friday, December 3rd, 2004. I nervously agreed. It was just easier talking on the phone and emailing than having to get all dressed up, and trying to look “pretty” and worrying how I looked, and did I look too fat…yada yada yada.

We both wanted to keep things casual so we met on somewhat safe and common ground. We met at The Marketplace in Princeton. The Marketplace was a smaller mall, and in that mall were many stores I frequented! (I spent many a rainy summer day there when the kids were young). In addition, I felt comfortable there. I figured if things turned sour, I could always use some retail therapy—and spend money I didn’t have.

I spent a lot of time, and money I didn’t have at this Princeton Mall. It was a safe place for our first meeting!

It was easy to spot Monsieur Bonaparte because, luckily, he looked just like his photo. In fact, he looked very nice. Until I noticed what he was wearing on his feet. A FRENCHMAN wearing TENNIS SHOES???? Yes! I was shocked. As much as I fed into the “anti-French” propaganda, the one thing I did have in common with the French was the disgust of white tennis shoes and/or sneakers. In my most humble opinion, tennis shoes belong on the tennis court and only on the tennis court.   The sneaker thing—only a few types of sneakers get my stamp of approval. Chuck Taylors and old-school Keds. End of story.

Was Bonaparte REALLY French–or was he faux-French. What self-respecting Frenchman would wear these on a DATE????

I become physically upset when I see tourists wearing white tennis shoes/sneakers, heavy ankle sport socks and ill-fitting shorts with t-shirts—especially when I see this kind of attire in a large city. It was bad enough for me to be seen off the courts with someone wearing these hideous shoes!

Those tennis shoes had my red flag at half-mast.

My red flag was at half-mast. Uh Oh!

As Bonaparte was not familiar with the Princeton area, so we took my car and we drove down Route 1 just a bit to grab a bite to eat at The Princetonian Diner.

Best diner in the Princeton area! The burgers and “freedom” fries are delicious!

Bonaparte had his red flag at half-mast upon entering my car—which, by the way he later deemed as the messiest car he had ever been in. I don’t even it being a mess except for a few pieces of sports equipment that belonged to the kids. The car wasn’t that bad. I mean really; he actually thinks he saw papers strewn on the floor!

My oh my. Bonaparte had HIS red flag at half mast after seeing the inside of my little green Cavalier.  Now we were even!

Wait. It gets better. After having a quick bite at the diner, Bonaparte asked me if I wanted to drive across the road to check out furniture at Ethan Allen and Domain. (I thought he was moving a bit fast!). It turned out his daughter was moving into a new place and he wanted to check out furniture for her.

Imagine that! This helicopter mom met her helicopter dad!

Get rid of those red flags. Helicopter Mom has met her true match..

The French version of the Helicopter Dad!!!!

We actually had a pretty good time checking out all that furniture—it seemed that we both had pretty much similar tastes!

Surprisingly, all the sofas and loveseats in our home are white and slipcovered! Who knew?

A stop at Starbucks ended our first “date” *giggle* *giggle*

A delightful end to our first date was a stop at Starbucks!

We have been together since that first date–but there’s more so read on…

Shortly thereafter, Bonaparte administered a “test”, unbeknownst to me. The test was disguised as a movie and dinner date. He was to cook dinner for me after seeing a “surprise” movie.

When I arrived at Bonaparte’s home, he was ready to leave. (*NOTE: Bonaparte is ALWAYS on time. Worse yet, he’s early. I am always late with the exception of doctor’s appointments, air and train travel. That’s it.) I think I may have been a couple of minutes late because he was not smiling. Oh wait. He’s French!

To lighten things up, I asked him “Why do you always wear those white tennis shoes? You’re supposed to be French! I thought the French had better taste in footwear?” “They really are not attractive!” (He didn’t realize I had a “thing” about footwear).

Embarrassed, he took the fugly tennis shoes off and changed into the classy, chic, European loafers, that he should have been wearing in the first place.

He also explained “Ah em so embarrahrrrazzz.” “Ah soughs zhat Americanzzz loved zuh tennis shuz.” “Ah em zoo ‘eppy ow don’ lek zhem.” “Ow ahr lek zuh Fra’shhh. Ow spek ur meen”.

(Translation: “I thought that Americans loved the tennis shoes. I am so happy you don’t like them. You are like the French. You speak your mind.”)

Score one for me!

While on the way to see the movie, he wouldn’t budge when I asked him whatmovie we were seeing. Instead, I hounded him about dinner. He was making roast chicken, French style. He then started talking about the various courses. He explained that we were having , in his words

“Pate and Cornish hen to start” He explained in his heavy accent.

I asked him why we were having Cornish hen before having chicken.

He knew I love a good meal, but Cornish Hen as a starter?  Whoa–I’m not that much of a little piggy!

He was becoming frustrated “Cornish hen..wizz mutar!!!”

Sensing his frustration, I started to laugh and asked why he was getting so upset.

Bonaparte: “Ow no zouz gren zings zhewish pip-ul et?” From zuh bar’rel?”

(Translation: “You know those green things jewish people eat? From the barrel?”)

Me:               “Yeah. You mean pickles??”

Bonaparte: “Oui.” Cornish hen ahr leedul peekuhls”.

Thus, I found out what “cornichon” were! Years later, I still cannot understand everything he says!

This is what the “Cornish hen” was! Oops!

The movie turned out to be “A Very Long Engagement”. A World War I epic of love and the search for a loved one. It starred Audrey Tatou and Gaspar Uliel as the doomed but engaged lovers, Mathilde and Manech. I loved this film. In fact, to this day it remains one of my faves!

I outsmarted Bonaparte! He had no idea I was a fan of French cinema!

This film turned out to be the “test”. Apparently, Bonaparte was unsure of a long-term relationship if I didn’t like French film. What he didn’t realize that I had been a fan of French cinema since my early twenties. Living in Manhattan gave me the opportunity to enjoy many French films. I was especially fond of Francois Truffaut, Louis Malle, Jean Renoir and Eric Rohmer. (Also..Bonaparte’s uncle, Yves Robert! Bonus!!!)

After expressing my disgust at this ridiculous test, I scored another one for me!

I guess the French are just more pragmatic in their relationship thinking! They judge compatibility  by film and food!

We’ve had ups and downs, but mostly ups.  We have fun and enjoy each other and balance each other very well. It’s nice!

I even introduced Bonaparte to selfies!

Bonaparte wasn’t used to divey bars in NYC until he met me! Here we are waiting for my son Roman’s band “Bad Man Yells” to begin playing. My oldest son Jake is with us. This is from 2010!

In Long Island. November 2011 at a family wedding (my side)!

So that’s it. Here’s a link to an article I wrote in “FrenchEntree” about my first attempt at making a nice French dinner for Bonaparte. It started out as a complete disaster but it really is a fun read:

My Dinner for Bonaparte

To keep you in the mood..Le Temps De L’Amour from Francois Hardy! Oh lala! XOXOXOXO

Move Over Josephine! Bonaparte is Mine!!! (The Story of how a New York Girl and Parisian Man Met) BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND. MANY HAVE WONDERED.  MANY HAVE ASKED. HERE YOU GO! A couple of readers are curious as to how Bonaparte and I came to be a couple and I thought it would make for a fun post so here goes!