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name: Benjamin "Benji" Hobbes nicknames: Benji, Ji, kitten (by some) dob. age: October 13 (27) gender: Male / Trans pronouns: (he/him/his) secondary gender: Omega occupation: cook species: weretiger fc: Noah Centineo
+resourceful, clever, empathetic+ -mistrusting, stubborn, workaholic-
#file under: muses#file under: muses: benji#file under: faces: benji#file under: bios: benji#file under: starter: benji#file under: verses: benji#file under: memes: benji#file under: aesthetics: benji#file under: wants: benji#file under: body: benji#knotfodder
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Up late, building houses - Liam Lawson x Architect! Reader
Plot: You build you and youâre boyfriend a home in NewZealand!



"You've been here for hours, you need to come to bed!" Liam says, leaning against the doorway to your office.
The one perk with your job was the work from home days you were allowed but then you also had you're private project that kept you up late till 1am most nights.
The private project had started out when you first graduated university. You'd always wanted to design and build a house, and having the connections of carpenters, roofers and plumbers you didn't think it would be too much of a stretch.
You're family didn't know how you were going to afford it, however after working throughout your whole education and with the help of Liam's heafty racer paycheck you guys would be just fine to build the house between the both of you.
"Yeah, yeah in a bit" you wave him off, too concentrated on the blueprint for the underground basement/ garage you'd need at the house with all the car's Liam had started to by so that he could mod them or fix them up.
He had his hobbies, you had yours.
But that meant you had to think of everything that the house you wanted to build had to cater for the both of you.
"Babe, it's nearly 3am and we have to catch a flight tomorrow, for Singapore!" he offers and your head turns to look at the clock. You hadnt realised the time slip away that quickly. And now that you'd snapped out of your days, the amount of papers around showing your potential ideas made you relaise how much work you'd done. #
"You're right. I'm sorry, have you been on the sim all night?" you ask, a guilty look on your face for having stayed up this whole time in wait of you.
"No, i went to sleep and woke up about 10 minutes ago to no you. Sooooo, i'd really like it if my girlfriend came to bed right now rather than get no sleep before tomorrow.
"Yeah, you're right lets go" you smile, filing your things away into your brief case and placing it on the cart by the door, knowing you'd take it tomorrow on the plane with you.
You guys settle in bed before Liam turns to you, pulling you into his chest.
âSo have you thought of adding a catio for Skylar?â He asks and you look up at him, a grin forming on your face.
âNo, I was thinking of making a shed for both her and Benjiâ you say and he nods, thinking of a cute little animal shed for both of your pets youâd brought into the relationship and anymore pets youâd incur in the future.
âMmmm, but wouldnât you want a shed for a nice outside office for in the summer?â He hands run through your hair as he continues to quiz you.
âWell it would be, but we have no need for a catio when Skylar is perfectly okay going outside on her own. You know that Liamâ you chide, your boyfriend had always been very protective off his cat.
âMmmm, so no catio, what are you doing right now?â He asks, snuggling down into the bed a little bit more.
âWell I was just looking at the basement. I was thinking of having a whole room with a setup for you down there? Make shelves to put all your helmets and ⊠hopefully trophies one day!â You grin up at him. He shakes his head tucking yours into the crook of his neck before turning the lights out.
âLetâs go to sleep nowâ he says.
"Oh, i was doing the garage, i thought maybe you'd want a nice safe place to store all the cars"
"Sleeeeeeeppppp" he laughs, making you feel the vibrations against your back from his chest.
"But the garage, would you want a slope going down on the drive under or like maybe one of those fancy car lift things? Do we have that in budget?" you wonder more to yourself than anything. Liam, on the other hand shakes his head rolling over in a way to hopefully get you're brain to shut off and sleep.
"No! Come back, i haven't told you I also had the idea of a mancave with your sim in there" you start, rolling over encasing him in your arms so he cant escape making him groan.
"Look, we can discuss all this on the very very long plane ride tomorrow yes? But i need sleep, right now if im going to function as a person" he says, before silent takes over the pair of you.
The next day you wake up, youâre picking up all of the things youâll need for the race weekend ahead.
As much as you loved Liam, you really didnât want to go this weekend, you just wanted to stay in your office and start with the ground work on the house. But you knew deep down that you needed to be there to support him.
You leave a note for your sister whoâs looking after your current place and your pets while your away. You fill up both Skylar and Benjiâs bowls, giving them lots of fuss before you wheel the last suitcase to the car.
âYouâre still working while we go?â Liam asks seeing your small bag of blueprints, paper, pencils and models.
"I'm sure there will be a table in the hospitality right, I can set myself up there while your practicing and having talks with the team. I've gotta keep myself busy right?" you explain knowing that he'd understand.
"But you'll take some time to watch me drive yeah?" he teases.
"Yes of course, otherwise it will be a waste of my time coming ALL the way here" you tease back before looking up at him, kissing his cheek. Before you can pull away he's pulling you back and kissing you on the lips.
"Alright, come on" he laugh, wrapping an arm around you taking you to the car, helping you get the last of the luggage from the porch step.
"Once this house is built, maybe you can build us a barn to get married in?" he asks nonchalantly as you get into the passenger side of the car, your head snaps to him. He looked so chilled like he didn't just make a garish comment like that.
"What?" you ask in shock.
"You heard me... so a barn?" he grins.
y/user

Liked by liamlawson30 and others
y/user: I love jobs and hobbies!
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liamlawson30: not many boyfriends can say their girlfriend spends their time building them a whole ass house. You're incredible!
-> y/user: oh how you flatter me, my cool driver boyfriend!
user1: wait? shes building a house for the RB driver???? who is this?
-> y/user: I'm an architect! I graduated with a degree in it last year and now work with a firm in New Zealand! My first individual project away from work is building mine and Liam's future family home. :)
-> user2: wait this is so cute that you guys are thinking ahead like that!
user3: wait do you have somewhere we can buy those plates from? Hella cute queen!
user4: love to see a fellow working woman unbothered by everything! #girlpower

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Benji Dunn x Reader - Enemy to Lover (Part 1/6)

Pairing: Benji Dunn x Reader
This is chapter 1/6 fanfic (everything is already written because I have exams in a week, and I'm procrastinating). However, I will upload only one chapter per day, ehehe
Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
CHAPTER 1: SHADOWS IN BERLIN
Ethan Hunt sat stiffly at the center of the briefing table. Benji Dunn and Luther Stickell flanked either side, the tension between them and the CIA rep so thick it could choke.
"This target is to be captured alive," the agent said, sliding the thin manila folder across the table. "She has stolen a highly sensitive asset. She is considered extremely dangerous. Location pings in Berlin, for now."
Ethan flipped open the folder. Sparse intel. No name. No clear photo. A single blurry image of you, mid-stride.
"What's the asset?" Luther asked.
"Classified. You're to retrieve it, and her."
Benji squinted. "What did she do, exactly?"
"She's considered extremely dangerous," the agent repeated with clipped precision.
Benji raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, you mentioned that part. Like, how dangerous? John Wick dangerous or more like âdonât eat the wrong sandwichâ dangerous?â
Luther gave him a look. Ethan stayed silent, still scanning the folder.
The agent didnât blink. âSheâs killed before.â
Benji looked surprised, but not entirely convinced. âAnd yet you want us to bring her in alive?â
"Yes," the agent said flatly. "Just follow the mission."
Ethanâs eyes narrowed further.
The rep gave a stiff smile. "Just follow the mission."
---
The train slid into Berlin Hauptbahnhof just before dawn. Cold wind spilled across the platform as the doors hissed open. You stepped out without hesitation, no luggage, no pause, no second glance at the cameras above the ticket barriers.
New identity burned into your pocket. Data chip sewn into the lining of your sleeve. One chance.
Youâd been out of the CIA for less than forty-eight hours. Not that theyâd called it an âexit.â People like you didnât resign. They vanished. Or were buried.
Berlin was the first step. The last known vault of hard-stored intel from the Helix Project. You needed the initial data setâschematics, weapon details, control bypass.
You ducked into an alley. Adjusted the weave of your scarf. Took a breath.
They would come soon. CIA. Or something worse.
Youâd seen the file requests ping on the ghost server. Not even an hour after your extraction. Redacted names. One you recognized: Ethan Hunt.
Great. IMF. The CIAâs favorite wildcard cleanup crew.
You didnât want to hurt them. But you wouldn't be captured either. Not again.
You kept moving. Always moving.
No mistakes.
No attachments.
No mercy.
Not until this thing was gone forever.
Berlin was only the beginning.
Rain misted down onto slick pavement outside an abandoned cybernetics lab tucked away in Berlin's industrial zone. Ethan, Benji, and Luther were in position.
Inside, you were hunting for an encrypted drive left behind by a contact. The place was collapsing from years of neglect, flickering lights exposing fractured tiles and broken labs.
"Iâve got visual," Ethan murmured into the comm.
From your perch near a shattered window, you spotted Ethan.
You cursed under your breath, bolted from the console and into the maze-like hallways. It didn't take long before you heard footsteps.
Ethan was fast.
But not fast enough.
You darted through a heavy security door, slamming it shut just as the sound of pursuit echoed behind you. The metallic clang reverberated through the dimly lit server room, casting long shadows across the rows of humming machines.
Benji Dunn was there.
He stood at a terminal, fingers mid-type, eyes widening as he looked up. His body frozeâlike a deer caught in headlights.
You had a gun in your hand. And every reason to use it.
The two of you stared at each other across the dark room, breath suspended in the charged stillness. A flickering overhead light passed across your face as your eyes locked.
Benji didnât move. Couldnât.
There was no fear in your stanceâbut there wasnât comfort either. He didnât know what to expect.
His breath hitched, chest rising as though bracing for a bullet.
ââŠHi,â you said lightly.
Inside your mind, you paused. Why did I say hi? It was ridiculous. You barely knew him, and he was the enemy.
His mouth opened. Then closed.
She said hi.
Why did she say hi?
Is that normal? Do assassins say hi now? Was that sarcastic? Cute? Noâdangerous. She's dangerous.
But her voice⊠it echoed in his head, light and smooth and unexpectedly warm. And those eyesâserious, focusedâbut there had been a flicker of something else.
Before he could blink, you were gone.
He stood frozen for a beat too long then snapped out of it, cursing under his breath as he bolted after you. He turned the corner just in time to see the tail end of your coat whip around another hallway.
Benji shook his head violently. Stop it. She had a gun pointed at you. A literal weapon. You're being stupid. Hormones are not bulletproof.
And yet, as he sprinted around another corner, a traitorous part of him kept repeating it:
She said hi.
He almost tripped. Who even says hi in the middle of a mission? Thatâs not protocol. Thatâs⊠flirting. Was that flirting? Oh god. Am I into that?
He definitely needed to recalibrate his instincts. Or at least stop thinking her smirk was kind of hot.
âBenji?â Ethanâs voice crackled through the comm, sharp with urgency. âWhatâs going on?â
Benji huffed, sprinting. âIâI think Iâm chasing her? She said hiâand then she ranâand now Iâm running!â
There was a pause.
âYou think youâre chasing her?â Ethan replied.
Benji wheezed. âWell, sheâs very fast and very armed, and Iâm just trying to keep up without dying!â
Luther cut in dryly, "Be careful. Sheâs not a stray cat, Benji."
"I KNOW," Benji panted, turning a corner and catching only empty air.
As you escaped the facility, drive in hand. You found yourself still thinking. That guyâs⊠kinda cute. Who even is he? You briefly pictured your own breathless face saying hi, the silly flirtatious thought creeping in but you shook it off sharply. No. Heâs the enemy.
#benji dunn#benji dunn imagine#fanfic#benji dunn x reader#mission impossible#x reader#mission impossible x reader#simon pegg
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Donât Hangâem Til Noon: Chapter Four
Donât Hangâem Til Noon: Chapter Four
Pairing: Jake âHangmanâ Seresin x Reader
Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?
Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Assault, Fighting, Violence (against women and others), Jake Seresin, Firearms, Blood. I think thatâs it?
Word Count: 3.6k
A/N: I hope you guys appreciate me neglecting my job to write this lol Iâm kidding, we were so slow, I would have been bored to tears otherwise. Just giving you guys a heads up now that Iâm going to try and pre-write as much as I can over the course of the next couple of days in preparation for next week when Iâll be attending my best friendsâ wedding. As always, reboots, comments and likes are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond!
Series Masterlist || DGU Masterlist
âI swear, that man would lose his head if it werenât attached to his shoulders,â you grumbled to yourself, as you made for the front door of your home. You had just finished cleaning up the mess from preparing breakfast when Benjamin had come running down the stairs in a frenzy.
âBenji, come eat,â you had said, gesturing to the table that was already set. He had shaken his head, turning in circles as he searched for his dress coat.
âI canât, Scout. Iâm running late for a meeting with a client,â he had said breathlessly. You rolled your eyes, plucking his coat off the back of the chair he had set it on the night before when he had gotten home. You held it out for him, and he shot you a grateful smile as he shrugged it on.
âAt least grab an apple on your way out,â you had argued. He plucked a granny smith from the bowl you had set out on the table, gesturing at you with it before making a beeline for the door.
âI donât know what time Iâll be home tonight,â he called over his shoulder before the door closed with a thud behind him.
Now, here you were hours later with his case files clutched in your hands and scowl plastered across your face. You slipped past the door, and making sure it was secured behind you, you made your way into Maverick.
It was nearing the end of summer, and a surprising chill was beginning to creep its way into the air. You made your way quickly to Benjaminâs law firm, giving polite smiles to those you passed.
You stepped into the firm with the files tucked tightly in your arms. Natasha came strolling out from the back with a polite smile that turned genuine at the sight of you.
âGood afternoon, Scout!â She grinned, gesturing for you to join her in the seating area. You did so, taking a seat on a leather armchair as she sat in the matching one opposite you. âWhat brings you by today?â
âBenji forgot some of his files,â you sighed, showing her the file. Natasha chuckled with a roll of her eyes. If anyone understood how exasperating your brother could be, it would be her.
âHe was up late working again, wasnât he?â She asked. You shit her a knowing look before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles. âThat man will blow away with the wind, I swear. How he manages to keep this place in order is beyond me.â
âHe may be a tad bit scatterbrained, but he takes his job very seriously,â you smiled. You were surprised he hadnât come out to see what the commotion was about yet. âIs he around?â
âNo,â she grimaced. âHis client insisted on meeting at the saloon.â
âI see,â you said, standing up. Natasha followed suit, reaching her arm out to you.
âI can take the files and give them to him when he gets back?â She offered.
âThatâs alright,â you declined. âI could use the exercise. You said he was at the saloon?â
âI did,â Natasha confirmed hesitantly. âBut Penny isnât there today.â
You stared at her. âAnd?â
âIt's just that,â she started nervously. âThe patrons can get pretty handsy when Penny isnât there. Not that I donât think you can hold your own, but I don't want to see anything happen to you should they get any ideas.â
âIâm sure it will be fine, Nat,â you smiled. âIâll just be in and out. I donât plan on staying for long. I still have things I need to do back at the house after all.â
Natasha chewed on her bottom li, seeming to contemplate her best course of action. Finally, she sighed. âIf youâre sure.â
âI am,â you stated firmly, already moving towards the door. âI wonât take up any more of your time. Iâm sure youâre busy with other things.â
âSpending time with you is never a bother, Scout,â she grinned. âStay safe, and give your brother hell for me when you see him!â
You offered her a final wave before stepping back out onto the street. You turned right onto the street, setting your sights on the saloon.
The atmosphere differed from your first time inside the large building. Instead of Penny standing behind the bar with her usual easy going smile, a tall man with glasses stood and waved a greeting at you.
âWelcome in, miss!â He smiled. You recognized him from the other day.
âI know you,â you said carefully, slowly making your way up to the bar as you studied him curiously. âYouâre a member of the Dagger Gang, correct?â
His smile turned sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. âYesâm. My name is Bob, and youâre Scout right?â
You hummed in affirmation. âAnd Penny trusts you to run her business?â
He laughed at that, almost catching you by surprise. âI get why you find that hard to believe. If I was in your shoes, Iâd think that Penny had lost her mind or something.
You chuckled at that. âI suppose it says something about your character that Penny trusts you enough to leave the saloon in your hands.â
âShe does,â he nodded. âI donât take peopleâs trust for granted.â
âThatâs good to know, Bob.â
He smiled at you and then moved like he was going to say something, but he seemed to think better of it. You arched an eyebrow at him as he shifted on his feet, a blush crawling up his face. âWhat is it?â You asked.
âPenny doesnât trust just anyone, ya know?â
âI know that,â you nodded. âWhat of it?â
âThe reason Penny trusts me is because I keep the others out of trouble.â
You laughed at that, and he frowned. âIâm sorry, Bob. I donât mean to offend. Itâs just that, well, if theyâre out robbing banks and breaking laws left and right, Iâd hate to think about what theyâd be doing without you.â
âItâs not like that,â Bob sighed. âThey arenât as bad as you may think, Scout. I know Hangman can beâŠa lot, sometimes. But, everything they do is out of survival.â
âRight,â you scoffed, causing the frown on Bobâs face to deepen.
âIâm serious, Scout,â he continued. âPenny mentioned that you came from Baltimore. I donât know much about how things are done over there, but I know enough to know how different things are there compared to here. Work isnât as steady out here as it is back East. Good men do bad things in order to keep their families safe and fed.â
âWhatâs your point, Bob?â You asked with a heavy sigh. He offered you a kind smile.
âTry not to be so hard on him? I know youâre used to things being a certain way, but believe it or not, he is trying.â
You didnât have to ask who he was referring to. You mulled over his words carefully before nodding slowly.
âAlright, Bob,â you smiled finally. âIâll keep that in mind.â His own grew, and he knocked on the wooden top of the bar as he leaned back.
âThank you,â he said. âNow what brings you by here today?â
Before you could answer, Bob suddenly straightened up to his full height, a cool look on his face as he looked past you. Your brows furrowed in confusion before you felt a warm body push up against you. You whipped around to find a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair leering down at you. The cold, empty look in his black eyes was warmed over by a look of unbridled lust. He gave you a once over, eyes pausing along the curves of your breasts and hips.
âHowdy, darlinâ,â he drawled, making the hair on your arms stand up.
âCan I help you?â You asked him coldly. You saw Bob shift in your peripheral as a couple of more men crowded you on the opposite side. The man let out a low whistle.
âWhy so cold, honey? I jusâ came over here to introduce myself. Nameâs Isaac.â
âCharmed,â you bit out, glare intensifying as he leaned in closer.
âYâainât gonna gimme yours?â He laughed.
âI donât see why you would need it,â you state simply, clutching the folder in your hand tightly. You cast a glance over to Bob who was eyeing the group of men wearily.
Isaac smiled, the gesture hollow. He reached up and tapped your cheek lightly, and you balked at the gesture. âEyes over here, honey.â
âIâm going to ask you once to please stop calling me that,â you bit out between clenched teeth.
âOr what?â He grins.
âOr you wonât like what happens.â
Isaac let out a booming laugh, his companions letting out chuckles of their own. You saw movement in the corner of your eye. You once again chanced a look over and saw two of the men had crossed over to the other side of the bar. The two men had Bob caged in between them, and his eyes darted rapidly back and forth between the two of them. Isaac grabbed your chin tightly in his large hand, forcing your head back to look at him. âWhat did I just say about those eyes?â
âLet go of me,â you hissed, earning another chorus of laughter from the group of men.
âA feisty little thing you are,â Isaac chuckled, leaning so that his breath fanned over you. It reeked of cheap liquor and stale tobacco. âI see why Hangman has his eye on you.â
âWhat?â You asked, brow furrowing at his comment.
âJust so you know,â he grinned, âyou have him to thank for this.â
Before you could question him further, he grabbed you by your hips and slammed you up against the bar. You felt the air leave your lungs and a flash of pain shoot up your spine. You saw Bob struggling against the two men beside him as they pinned him back. His eyes blazed and nostrils flared as he tried with all his might to break free of their hold. Your brief moment of confusion allowed Isaac to push his way in between your thighs. You felt the hot length of him press against you, and you started to struggle, clawing at his arms. Tiny ribbons of blood began to flow down his arms as he bared his teeth down at you in a crazed grin.
âThat's alright, Kitten,â he laughed. âI like a bit of pain with my pleasure.â
He leaned down, slanting his lips on top of yours, and you felt the hot sting of tears behind your eyes. He thrusted up into you, causing you to gasp and cry out. He took the opportunity to force his tongue into your open mouth, and you almost vomited at the action. Without thinking, you bit down on the offending protrusion, the taste of blood filling your mouth. Isaac lurched back with a yelp, grabbing at his mouth. He glared down at you.
âBitch!â He spat, backhanding you. Your face flew to the side, a flash of white hot pain radiates from your cheek where one of his rings had made contact, cutting you in the process. You felt blood begin to trickle down your cheek, and your tears threatened to spill over. Isaac gripped your hair roughly, slamming you back down onto the counter.
âYouâre going to regret that,â he hissed at you as you fought against the dizziness that threatened to consume you from the force of his actions. Your tears began to flow freely down your cheeks as the larger man grabbed at your shirts and skirts, ripping them in a bid to get them off of you.
âNo!â You screamed, renewing your efforts. Isaac ignored you as he licked up the column of your throat. Your sobs racked your body violently, legs kicking at him as he moved to undo his belt buckle. You closed your eyes in an attempt to shield yourself from what was about to happen.
Just when you thought all hope was lost, a resounding click sounded in the room. Isaac stilled against you, and you cracked your eyes open to see the barrel of a pistol pressed to his temple. Turning, you saw Jake on the other end of the weapon.
His green eyes were filled with the intention of murder as his lips curled in a sneer of pure wrath. His body was drawn tight, deathly still as he waited for Isaac to make his move. He looked every bit of what you imagined an avenging angel would look.
âLet. Her. Go,â he ground out. Isaac spared a glance at you, and the gun pressed harder into the side of his head. Slowly, the older man pulled away from you, and you scrambled to sit up on the bar. You now saw the rest of the Daggers standing behind him with their hands on their own pistols. The two men behind the bar had let go of Bob who was now moving to your side. You heard footsteps begin to descend the stairs, and you looked to see Maverick, Benjamin, and an unfamiliar older man stop as they took in the scene before them.
âScout?â Benjamin said, eyes widening in shock. You let out a shaky breath, turning back to watch Jake who had yet to take his eyes off of Isaac. The two stared each other down.
âHangman,â Isaac finally sniffed in way of greeting.
âWhat are you doing here?â Jake snapped. Isaac rolled his shoulders back casually as if there wasnât still a gun aimed at his face.
âWell,â he drawled, âI came to collect retribution for what you took from me, but then I saw you with this pretty, little thing the other day, and I figured this would make for a good trade.â
Jakeâs nostrils flared, a dangerous glint in his eyes as Isaac spoke. âI didnât take anything that you couldnât replace.â
âI disagree,â the other man hummed, picking a piece of lint off his shirt. âYou wounded my pride, Hangman. And what better retribution than taking your woman?â
Jakeâs jaw clenched, and you saw Maverick move out of the corner of your eye.
âJake,â the older man said gently. Jake spared him a glance before focusing back on Isaac. Maverick continued, âNot here, son.â
Jake looked at him, and when Maverick gave a pointed glance at where you sat, frozen, he turned his attention to you. You must have looked a sight because Jakeâs jaw clenched again. You could feel the tears still streaming down your face and mixing with the blood that still dripped down your cheek.
âJake?â You called to him softly, uncertainly. He took several deep breaths.
âThe only reason youâre leaving here alive,â he rumbled, nodding his head over at you, âis because sheâs here.â
Isaac watched him for a moment, the two of them not breaking eye contact. Isaac huffed out a light chuckle before turning towards the door. He gave you one last glance before smirking, gesturing for his men to follow.
âYou best keep an eye on her, Hangman,â he called over his shoulder. âWould be a right shame if something were to happen to her while you werenât lookinâ.â
Jake said nothing as they filed out. One man stopped beside Bradley, casting him a sideways glance. âRooster.â
âJeb,â Bradley replied coldly. The two shared an unspoken conversation before the man followed the rest out the door. As soon as they were gone, Benjamin rushed to your side.
âScout, what happened?â he cried, checking you over. You looked down at yourself, noting how the collar of your white, cotton shirt hung by mere threads off your shoulder. You frowned at the tiny drops of blood that had fallen onto the ruined fabric.
âI,â you swallowed thickly, âI was coming to give you the casework you forgot at home this morning. I thought it might be important, soâŠâ
You trailed off, your eyes taking in the multiple tears of your skirt, a new wave of tears pouring from your eyes. You jumped when Jake appeared in front of you. His eyes were still blazing, but you saw worry mixed in with the rest of the emotions still swirling within the different shades of green.
âWhat the hell were you thinking,â he seethed.
âWhat?â You blinked. He took your shoulders in his hands, surprisingly gentle for how angry he seemed.
âHow many times do I gotta tell you that you need someone with you? Especially in here?â he growled.
âI didnât think-â
âYouâre right,â he snapped, his grip slightly harder as his frustration with you grew. âYou didnât think, and you almost got hurt because of it.â
You felt your own temper start to build as you stared up at him.
âStop treating me like Iâm some helpless child,â you snapped at him. Jake barked out a humorless laugh.
âYouâre not a child, Scout,â he flung back at you. âAnd, thatâs why itâs so damn frustrating when you do stupid shit like this.â
âI can take care of myself.â
âClearly you canât,â he seethed. Your jaw clenched, and you practically threw yourself onto the ground. You pushed past him with a glare and started for the door.
âWhere are you going?â he demanded, already moving to follow you. You whirled back around, stopping him in his tracks with a finger to his chest.
âIâm not going to sit here and let you insult me,â you spat at him. He grabbed your hand, and pulled you in to him.
âHave you learned nothing from what just happened?â he glared down at you. âIf we hadnât already been on our way in to see Mav, well shit, Scout. Isaac would have had you every which way and then passed you around to his crew. Donât you understand that?â
âLet go of me,â you ground out, trying and failing to pull your arm free of his grip.
âNo,â he stated firmly, eyes set in a determined bid to win this argument. You gave another tug, but his grip didnât falter.
âYou donât seem to get it, darlinâ,â he sneered. âThis ainât Baltimore. People donât hide their ugly nature behind polite smiles and fancy clothes. People here take, and they sure as shit donât care who sees them do it."
He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. "Tell me you understand.â
You nodded, still glaring furiously up at him. He shook his head with a wry smile. âUh uh, sugar. Need to hear you say it.â
âI understand,â you snapped. He finally let you go, and you wrenched your hand back. The two of you stared a beat longer before you heard Benjamin clear his throat.
âIâll take you home, Scout.â
âNo,â you said automatically. âYouâre busy. I can see myself home.â
âNot happening,â Jake said. âIâll walk you home.â
You went to say something, but he fixed a hard stare at you, cutting you off. âDonât even try to argue with me right now, Scout. Iâm taking you home, and thatâs final.â
You huffed, turning on your heels and stormed out of the saloon, Jake hot on your tail. The two of you walked in silence, townsfolk casting you wide-eyed looks as you passed. When you reached your front door, you whirled around to face him.
âIâm home,â you spat. âSafe and sound. Are you happy now?â
Jake stared at you, his lips set in a hard line.
âThe boys and I were planninâ on leavinâ for an excursion tomorrow,â he said, âbut I think Iâll stick around.â
You scoffed. âIf youâre worried about what Isaac said, donât be. Itâs you who should be worried, actually.â
âOh?â Jake chuckled. âAnd why is that?â
âIâm only telling you this as a way of thanking you for your help in the barn the other day,â you began, Jake arching an eyebrow at you. âBut thereâs a U.S. marshal after you and the other Daggers.â
Jake barked out a laugh, and you stared at him in confusion. Jake looked at you with a wide grin. âI ainât worried about a U.S. marshal, pretty girl.â
âHow are you being so cavalier about this?â you snapped, placing your hands on your hips.
âBecause theyâre always after us,â he shrugged. âBesides, I can take care of myself. You on the other hand-â
âI can take care of myself just as well as you can,â you huffed. All humor dropped from Jakeâs face as he gave you a look that said he clearly didnât believe you. You scowled at him, stalking into the house. He followed you as you marched into the kitchen. You grabbed the rifle that Benjamin insisted you keep by the back door âjust in case,â and walked out the back door. Jake kept following, and you stopped just outside on the porch.
âDo you even know how to use that thing?â He chuckled. Wordlessly, you scanned the yard, finding a forgotten bucket sitting on the fencepost about fifty yards away that you must have left out that morning. You raised the rifle to your shoulder, took aim, and-
BANG.
The bucket went flying in the air, a hole where you had hit it dead center. You let the rifle drop from your shoulder as you held it by your side. Turning, you caught the look of shock and intrigue that graced his face.
âHe caught me off guard today,â you said. Jake looked at you, wonder shining in his eyes. âHe wonât do it again.â
Jake studied you for another moment before nodding his head slowly.
âAlright, Scout,â he relented. âIâll see you when I get back.â
#top gun maverick#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x you#jake seresin x you#jake hangman seresin imagine#jake seresin fic#jake seresin fanfiction#hangman#top gun hangman#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman top gun#dhtn#don't hang'em til noon#dhtn!jake#dhtn!jake and scout#jake and scout#dgu#dagger gang universe
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WIP Wednesday (?)
I might continue this someday, so it counts as a WIP I suppose.
In relation to this post:
Theo Degas had his life planned out; enlist in the military, get a degree in political science, a minor in communications, and land a job in the CIA, just like his father and grandfather had before him.
And he had managed to accomplish just that too, until the Entity.
It was supposed to be a normal day--- transferring a highly dangerous assassin into their prison, a part of his routine that had gotten intercepted by Ethan Hunt and completely upended on its head.
He had been wary, knowing just how dangerous Paris was. She had been on the wanted list, even before she started working for Gabriel. They'd half expected her to attempt a break out, just not for someone else to do it for her, much less Ethan Hunt.
But Degas had always been good at adapting. It was a part of his skillset, really. Taking things as they came and adapting himself to them.
He just hadnât expected to get so attached to this ragtag team of ex-convicts (? as far as he knew, the IMF were comprised of criminals who had been given a Choice--- to work for the government or be stuck for the rest of their lives in jail.) that had felt more like family than anything else.
Recently, though, there had been a part of him wondering if he truly fit as much as he wanted to.
(Not that he had any higher moral grounds than the rest of them--- there were things he did for the sake of âupholding the lawâ that he was not proud of--- only that they had once stood on opposing sides, and they really shouldnât have trusted him as easily as they did.)
---
âAnyone up to arm wrestle? Iâm bored out of my mind.â Degas says to the room at large.
Retrieving some corrupt officialâs files really didnât warrant the three of them, as far as Degas was concerned; Benji could probably have hacked into five different government security vaults in the time they spent on the mission, but here they were anyway, all because Kittridge wanted to test Parisâs skills before officially initiating her into the IMF.
(Neither did Degas need to be here, actually. Paris couldâve probably pulled it off by herself, but heâd volunteered anyway, still high off the thrill of their last mission with the Entity.)
âIâm rubbish at arm wrestling,â Benji snorts, âwhy not poker instead?â
âBecause Iâm rubbish at poker, and youâve beaten me at every game so far.â
âOnly because you canât lie with a straight face--- we need to work on that, really.â Benji points out, finally tearing his eyes off the laptop screen.
âArm wrestling?â Paris questions, brows furrowed in confusion. "What is that?"
Degas stops short at her expression, wondering not for the first time, what sort of childhood Paris had. Certainly not a conventional one, as evidenced by just about ninety percent of their interactions so far, and Degas would really just like to have a civil conversation with whoever raised her to be a knife.
âYeah! Arm wrestling is--- well, you can just watch Benji and I.â
Benji mutters something incomprehensible under his breath before rolling up his sleeves with a sigh. âSo we are doing this, then.â
---
And, well.
Okay. Degas would admit that he had fallen for the deliberate illusion of the unassuming tech guy, had forgotten that despite how benign Benji seemed, he was also a field agent.
Heck, he had accompanied Ethan Hunt into a maximum security prison to break Paris out of it, that shouldâve been his first sign to not underestimate Benji Dunn.
âAgain,â Degas demands, despite the sweat drenching the back of his shirt. He was losing one to nine rounds so far, and Benji had only lost that one round because heâd gotten distracted by the warning beep on his laptop--- something about a complication in his data analysis that he was somehow running on a macbook.
âIs this supposed to be fun?â Paris asks, looking between the two of them in confusion.
âNot usually,â Benji shrugs. âBut I suppose itâs fun if youâre winning.â
âWho do you usually wrestle against?â Degas asks, slightly horrified by the idea of someone beating Benji so consistently that heâd been convinced he was rubbish at arm wrestling.
âEthan.â
Degas gapes, slamming his head against the table in exasperation.
Of course.
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Taking the Chance (Benji Dunn x Original Female Character) Chapter 3: I Thought You Said The Kremlin
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
A/n: Happy 4th of July!! (for those who celebrate) This chapter is a bit shorter but hope you all enjoy it and have a great weekend!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 3: I Thought You Said The Kremlin
Ethan, Jane, and the Russian man finally made it into the van, and we were on the move. Benji was behind the wheel, eyes on the road, while I sat up front in the passenger seat. Jane, Ethan, and the Russian were in the back, and Jane was being overly thorough with the DNA verification. It was beginning to get under Ethan's skin, and honestly, I couldnât blame him.
The Russian man kept throwing questions at Ethan, his confusion thick in the air.
"I donât mean to bring up the elephant in the room," Benji called out from the driver's seat, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, "but what's with the big, hairy Russian?"
"Who, Bogdan?" Ethan replied, glancing toward the man. "He fed me intel. If I left him there, they would have killed him. So weâre going to give him his freedom. Did you call in the sweepers?"
"Wow, Ethan. You get put in jail and come out with that little faith in us?" I said, glancing back at him with mock offense. That earned a small smile from him, a brief flicker of amusement in the middle of chaos.
But then Ethan tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Uh, Benji, how is it that you're here?"
"Oh, I passed the field exam. Crazy, right?" Benji answered proudly. I smiled to myself. He did pass, though I may have helped a little during the combat section. The man can out-hack anyone alive but put him in a fistfight and he used to flail like a drowning penguin.
"Yeah. Crazy." Ethan swatted away Jane's attempt to stick a device into his mouth.
"DNA test," Jane replied flatly, not giving up.
I turned to face them, rolling my eyes. "Here, Jane, I got this. Ethan, what is my least favorite organ in the human body?"
"You should give me a harder question next time, Charlotte. The pancreas."
"Yep. It's him," I said, turning back around.
Benji squinted at me, perplexed. "Why do you hate the pancreas? It's a useful organ. You need it to survive."
I pointed toward the road. "Focus, driver. And I just have a feeling I should hate it. I mean, listen to the name. Pan-creas. It even sounds ridiculous."
Benji muttered something about irrational organ bias as we approached another van parked by the side of the road.
"Sweepers approaching. Brooms are out," he said, easing our van into alignment with the other.
The Russian, Bogdan, looked around in growing concern. "Sergei? Are you not Sergei?"
Ethan calmly pulled out a tranquilizer gun and shot Bogdan. As the man slumped over, Ethan opened the door and pushed him gently into the waiting van beside us.
"Messy bringing him along," Jane noted as she stashed her equipment.
"I thought it went rather well," Ethan said, and I didnât need to see his face to know he had that half smirk of his.
"Mind telling me what you were doing in a Russian prison?" Jane asked.
"Mind telling me why you broke me out?"
"Oh, come on! Canât it just be because we missed your snarky commentary on missions? Also, we needed someone to blame when things go sideways," I chimed in.
"Wait, this wasnât a rescue mission?" Jane asked, confused.
Ethan's tone grew serious. "Letâs put it this way. If the Secretary wanted me out, it must be pretty bad out here."
Jane leaned forward slightly. "We were after a file. We lost it."
"We? Who lost it? You?"
"Agent Hanaway," she replied, her voice quieter now.
Ethan's face fell. "Whereâs Hanaway?"
The van went silent. Benji looked up into the rearview mirror, his expression grim.
Jane recounted everythingâfrom the smooth start of the mission to how it all unraveled. How we split up at the platform. How the assassin intercepted Hanaway. How she shot him. How she bested me. How Benji had to step in and pull me out. The guilt in Janeâs voice was unmistakable.
When she finished, she handed Ethan a phone with a photo on it.
"You know her?"
Ethan stared at the image. "Thatâs Sabine Moreau. Contract killer. Works for diamonds. What was in the file?"
"Russian nuclear launch codes," Jane answered, her tone clipped.
"IMFâs been tracking an emerging extremist. Codename: Cobalt. Heâs determined to detonate a nuclear weapon however he can. We know Moreauâs worked for him before," Ethan said.
I exhaled sharply. "So now that she has the launch codes, Cobaltâs enemy number one. Great."
"What else does IMF know about him?" I asked.
"As much as you do now," Ethan replied, leaning against the van wall.
"Weâre here," Benji said, pulling over on a graffiti-covered, empty street.
There was a phone booth up ahead, one of those old, cracked ones with more stickers and tags than glass.
Ethan slid out and walked to it.
"Alright, switch. My turn to drive," I said, unbuckling.
"Iâve only been driving for an hour!" Benji protested.
"You drove all night to the prison. Fair's fair. I have a feeling weâll be driving a lot more." I gave him my best pout. "Please?"
He stared at me for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, fine! But no longer than two hours. I mean it."
We awkwardly shifted around each other in the van, trading seats. Benji leaned slightly out the passenger window to keep eyes on Ethan.
Jane stepped out to stretch, rubbing her arms.
"Why was he in prison?" I heard her ask quietly.
Benji hesitated. "He disappeared after he and his wife... you know. I thought heâd been transferred. Put on leave. There were rumors, though. Talk of an unsanctioned hit."
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
None of that was true. Only Luther and I knew what had really happened. I was mad at Ethan when I first learned the truth, mad because I liked Julia, and mad because I knew how much Ethan had loved her. But I understood. Eventually.
Still, the rumors hurt. They twisted everything Ethan had sacrificed. And worst of all, I couldnât say a word.
I glanced over and rested my chin on Benji's shoulder. He stiffened in surprise but relaxed.
"Where do you think theyâll send us this time?"
"I have a good feeling about Disneyland," he said dryly.
Jane and I both laughed.
I looked back up. Ethan was done with his call. He turned to walk away, then stopped, turned back, and gave the phone booth a good smack. It sparked and hissed. Proper self-destruct sequence initiated.
"What do you got?" Jane asked.
Ethan stood at the vanâs open door.
"Weâre going into the Kremlin."
Benji laughed nervously. "Ha, I thought you said the Kremlin."
Ethan hopped into the back.
I pulled my chin off Benjiâs shoulder and fastened my seatbelt, then put the van in drive.
Benji turned back, incredulous. "I thought you said the Kremlin?"
Silence.
Benji faced forward and buckled his seatbelt.
"Disneyland, here we come," I muttered, easing the van back onto the road.
#benji dunn#benji dunn fanfic#benji dunn x imf character#benji dunn x reader#fanfic#ghost protocol#mission impossible#mission impossible x reader#simon pegg#x reader
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Opportunity of a lifetime (Mission Impossible)
plot: you being a thief crossing roads with Ethan Hunt and leaving an impression on him so he recruits you to IMF.
characters: Ethan Hunt x reader + Benji Dunn x reader + Luther x reader
a/n: first one shot to post. sorry if there are any mistakes point them out to me so I can fix them.
*gif doesn't belong to me*

Growing up as an orphan was hard but you were tough. Since youâre an orphan you played and stayed outside most of the time and did pick up a skill or two. And you kept practicing picking locks and pockets, you were getting pretty good, the things any money you got from people were a great price.
Until one day you pick pocket the wrong person, it was just wrong person wrong time. Well, thatâs what you thought but that man saw your potentials, so he took you under his wing trained and shaped you to be the perfect thief. And that training included incredible gymnastics skills, hand to hand combat due to excellent upper body strength and acrobatics. After that he sat you out in the world his thief, his legacy. You did so wonderful on your own and even gained a name for yourself in this game.
That tracks up to now: There you were in the middle of a job planning to retrieve an item for a buyer from Brij Nathâs private gallery and the party was your way in. Youâve done jobs like that a thousand of times, so it was an easy one; go in disable the system making it think itâs a glitch then replace the painting with a fake one and get out so easy so boring but the pay was worth it. What you didnât plan was to get caught.
âWhoâs that?â asked Benji using the comms.
âI donât know but I intend to find out.â Ethan glance at you when you first entered the party. Didnât really think much of you just a regular person but he was proved wrong when he saw you sneaking into one of the rooms that were off-limits. He got curious and followed you while still checking with Jane she can handle herself for now.
That lead to this moment Ethan had a tight grip on your arm staring at you with an intense gaze âWho are you?â he asked.
âYou think Iâm going tell you that?â you raised your eyebrow.
He sighed âI guess not.â
Before he could get another word out you managed to grab his wrist then turn your body to get his hand off you, delivering a strong kick to his ribs then went for a punch but he managed to block your punch. You tried to shake this man off you by fighting so you can make a run for it but he was good at fighting âWho is this guy?â until you saw your opening when you got to handcuff him to the door handler. He didnât realize until he heard it and looked down to see the handcuff. He then looked at you with raised eyebrow âSeriously?â you just shrugged âItâs working just fine right now.â You turned around got the painting, made it to your exit at the widow then faced him again seeing how heâs trying to unlock to handcuff âHope to never see you againâ winking at him then jumped.
~~~~~~ skipping time to a couple of months after ~~~~~
Benji made an id after searching for too long with the help of Ethan then finally found out who you are, he was busy with other things not his fault though. There they were at Benjiâs desk, Benjiâs eyes glued to the screen Luther standing behind him leaning on his chair while Ethan was pacing the floor.
âOh my!â Benjiâs voice broke the silence, Ethan turns around to face the two of them reading everything they can find about you.
âEthan are you sure you want this person to join the IMF? Because wow!â Benji spoke first.
âLetâs me seeâ Ethan went to stand next to Luther to get a look at the screen.
âYep, thatâs themâ Ethan looked at the picture of you on the screen then read the files. You defiantly made a name for yourself. As a thief you stole all kind of things and it was impressive how good you are but never killed anyone not a killer.
âThatâs a long list.â Spoke Luther after reading the files they have on you. âLooks like they really left an impression on you if youâre thinking of recruiting them.â
âBut are you seriously still thinking about it?â Benji took his eyes off the screen to stare at Ethan.
âYes Benji. I want them on this team.â
âAnd how are you supposed to get them to meet with you? And how are you going to trust them or then trusting us?â Benji was seriously questioning his friend decision on this. And he had all the rights to do that, you being on the team when youâve been working solo for almost all your life is going to be hard and having people to trust you when you met in the most unconvincing  situation was completely something else. How are you going to have their backs in the future should you actually work with them on missions?
âAnd how are you planning to do that?â Luther straightens up and turn to get a better look at Ethan.
He smiled at him âEasy one of you is going to pretend to be a client that needs a job to be done.â
Benji rolled his eyes âOf course itâs that easy. Like theyâre not going to check the background of the client.â
âSo which one of us do you want to be the client?â Luther asked Ethan.
There you were checking your watch to meet with the new client. You did everything checking background, activities across everything. Even though you did shady business you donât want to be caught dealing with shady people or being set up to take the fall for something that might or did happen. You were taught way better to fall for that. Your mentor wouldnât forgive you for it. The client sat up the place for the meeting and to make sure you had access to all cameras close by to alarm you if you see a bogie on your tail. And just on time the client showed up as promised. You enter the tunnel knowing full well that if this thing goes south you got a way out.
âGood evening are you Y/n?â he asked.
You looked him over, a man with a nice navy Armani suit, tie and cuffs. Expensive cuffs always a good sign to good payout for when the job is done. Ginger hair slicked back with think black frame glasses.
âYou got that right. What can I do for you mister Smith?â you showed him a smile to ease him. He looked a little nervous.
âWell Iâve contacted you for a job and apparently youâre the one to go to for that.â He nodded at you.
âI take full price before the job is done and an extra after especially if it coasted me trouble.â You told him.
âI bet you do.â He chuckled a little âBut Iâm not the one who wants to hire you.â He waved his hand.
With your confuse expression someone walked out of the shadow and stood next to mister Smith. He looked directly at you and you recognized him, it was that man the same man you left handcuffed in Nathâs party. You sensed someone walking behind you, turning your head you saw this big man standing in your way out of the tunnel. Turning your attention to the men standing before you.
âSo you found me? Want me to congratulate you? Who are you anyway? And did you hire me to do a job or you wanted to arrest me?â You asked.
âNot really. Iâm not here to arrest you.â He took small steps towards you with his hands raised âAnd Iâm not a cop or a fed either. My name is Ethan Hunt and I want to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime.â
You raised your eyebrow at him âso heâs not a cop. What does he want anyway?â you nodded at him âWell go on.â
âI read your files, consider me impressed and you are exactly what I need on my team.â He told you.
âYouâre kidding right?â
The man behind you spoke âNo heâs not.â You turned your head to look at him âHeâs really impressed with you and what you do.â He smiled at you.
After listening to Ethanâs offer you took a moment to process what heâs saying to you. It was a lot to take it but you would be lying if that didnât excited you. This opportunity was gold, so what if youâre doing it to save the world and you could die a horrible death and no one would know what you did. That wasnât any different from what you are doing now beside you did think this what you were doing got boring with time. So you had no other choice but to accept.
âI accept.â You said it while looking at him âBut I got to warn you Iâm not very good at teamwork.â
âDonât worry about that.â He smiled and offered his hand to shake yours. After you shook on it, he said âWelcome to the team.â
âIâm Luther.â He shook your hand after Ethan while smiling at you, so you smiled back.
The last one was mister Smith, he was hesitant but you shook his hand âBenjiâ he said.
âWhy do you look sad dude? Iâm joining the team.â You smiled at him while walking with him.
Ethan and Luther were walking in front of you two âHe had second thoughts about you joining us.â They laughed.
You turned to Benji âDonât worry Iâm not going to rob you while youâre sleeping.â
He turned his head so fast to look at you âYouâre thinking about doing that?â he said in a panicked voice.
But you just laughed.
#writings-of-a-demigod#mission impossible#Impossible mission force#ethan hunt#benji dunn#luther stickell#ethan hunt x reader#benji dunn x reader#luther stickell x reader#mission impossible imagines
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Wip Wednesday| Instructions on Mindful Focus X X
Each patient had to be given a code name to be used in place of name, pronoun, or any other identifying article in the written documents. 'Safety through obfuscation', the unofficial motto of the IMF, or at least it was for the Psych Division. All documentation produced before, during, or after a session had to be written by hand, never typed on computer or typewriter, and stored in self-immolating file cabinets. Press the right spot or don't enter the right code, and all of the files would be burnt to ash in seconds. It wasn't anything new to her. In Martha's last job, anonymity was a selling point to most clients. Martha preferred to wait 'til the end of the first session to give a pseudonym. It gave her a chance to get to know them and let the nickname cement itself in her mind. Right now her notes were filled with little blank spaces just waiting to be filled with the distillation of a person. Flicking her eyes over the man on her couch, she couldn't help but correlate the unnatural stillness of Agent Hunt and a sheep dog belly down in the grass after an order to Wait. Fidgeting with her pre-session notes, she tried to find a good way to start. Should she start with just the facts? No, that wouldn't work. It would sound to much like a debriefing and Hunt wouldn't open up to an agent after all he's gone through. Maybe she could use a sweet heart approach? Acting like a doe-eyed civilian would be about the opposite of an agent as she could get.
I have also been overthinking just how the IMF would be set up
Under the vague hand wavy control of the CIA
Branch > Division > Department > Sub-Departments
Three branches of the IMF: Operations, Support, and Field. There is a great deal of overlap and sharing of personnel/resources
Operations - Agents in the foreground of Missions and intel gathering
Divisions under the Operations Branch
Control: The guy in the chair, plans and supervises the mission - James Phelps, Daniel Briggs, and Ethan Hunt
Engineering: mechanical operator, in-field technical advisory, and general Macgyver - Barnard "Barney" Collier, Â Benji Dunn, and Luther Stickel
Transportation: Pilots, getaway drivers, and other specialized transportation experts. Declan Gormley
Face: Agents that wear the Mask, and have direct and consistent contact with the Mark. Honeypot is a sub-department of Face - Rollin Hand, Cinnamon Carter, and The Great Paris
Security: The hitter and strong man - also works in the IMF buildings as base security - William "Willy" Armitage, and Zhen Lei
Infiltration: Specialists in getting in-and-out of secure buildings without being found, often an acrobat. Ethan Hunt
Specialist:Pinch-hitters from other branches and other agencies - Nyah Nordoff-Hall
Intelligence: Long field operatives, moles, help open doors for IMF teams. Not part of the Field branch for administrative reasons; pay and benefits the same as Operation branch agents.
Support - Analysts, Medical staff, Fabricators, and Legal teams that support and maintain the IMF from within Headquarters(Langley?DC?) and Satellites
Divisions under the Support Branch
Medical Departments: In-Patient, Out-Patient
In-Patient Sub-Departments: Acute care(ER/Surgery), Chronic care(...everything else)
Out-Patient Sub-Departments: Pharmacy, Wound care, Physical Therapy, Specialty, and Primary Care
Analysis Departments: Intelligence analysis by Region, Psychology, [physical evidence?], and Information Distribution(Control Handlers)
Personnel Departments: Recruitment, Records, Covers, Training, and [Family and Friend management]
Legal Departments: Domestic Law, Foreign law, and Admiralty
Sub-Departments for Criminal, Civil, and for the various Continents
Cyber Departments: Cyber-Security, Code making/breaking, Electronic Infiltration, and IT. Previously part of both Analysis and Fabrication before becoming its own department.
Fabrication Departments: Wardrobe, Masks, Hazardous Materials, Large Scale Construction, Small Scale Construction, Rigging, Smithing, and R&D
Logistics Departments: Field Logistics, Operations Logistics, and Support Logistics. Works closely with the Personnel Divisions, with Sub-Departments for each Division that handle Requisitions, Supply Chains, and Disposal.
Field - a mixture of Reservists, part-timers, and Outsiders that were read into IMF for one reason or another, all supporting teams in the field and couriering messages
Divisions under the Field Branch
On-Site Fabrication:
Dead Drop:
Courier:
Local Intelligence:
Location Maintenance:
#would yall be interested in a worldbuilding post?#Overthinking is my superpower#I might post this stuff on AO3#instructions on mindful focus#mission impossible#I really need a tag for stuff I write#wip wednesday
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writer questions meme: 8, 13, 20 if you please
13. Whatâs the best writing advice youâve ever come across?
It wasn't explicitly writing advice, but I can tell you where I learned what my specific style would be. There was a fic in the Dresden Files fandom called "Cross" by LightGetsIn. LGI was a tremendous writer and a very kind mentory-friend who I attended my first fan convention with. Extremely accomplished adult who I looked up to when I was barely an adult.
"Cross" is a story about the limitations of perspective. It was the first story that really drove home the idea that Character A would not have the same knowledge and understanding of the world as Character B.
In "Cross", the POV character is John Marcone, a non-magical mafia boss who is deeply entrenched in the magical world. He has a lot of factual knowledge of how magic works, but he's an Italian-American Catholic. So when he's pulled into doing magical rites to bring another character back to life, he specifically doesn't pick up on the more pagan symbology of what he's doing, but filters it through a Guilty Catholic filter. Hence the name of the fic, "Cross."
And that story, which isn't even my favorite LGI story, probably taught me the most about how to write Close Perspective Third Person, which is my default style. When I'm writing in a characters POV, I rigorously limit what the POV character knows and picks up on. I will plant clues and information that the audience will understand, but the connections a character makes, the reference pools they pull from, their morality and ethics, all of those inform that POV, and what you and I know does not.
That is probably the most important lesson I've ever had in creating my own writing method.
20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.
8 hours of sleep, small breakfast snack like a croissant, decaf beverage, one dextroamphetamine, and no one fucking talk to me for about 2 - 4 hours. I will write 4,000 words.
8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes youâve written and explain why youâre proud of it.
Lets put this under a cut, and I'll give you some DVD commentary. This is from chapter 2 of you'll need a new name to survive this. It's the point where Benji realizes Ethan is stalking him and does that trick to lose him in the bookshop, then sits outside waiting for him.
Only five minutes later, the door opened, and Bell took one step out before freezing, his eyes falling on Benji.
Got you, Benji thought with a sharp little smile. "You didn't even buy a book? Bit rude."
One of the goals of the early chapters of PT AU was establishing Benji's character as boldly as possible because we were essentially telling a story that canon does not. This is YEARS before MI3, where Benji gets two gd scenes.
To me, the tightrope walk was that I wanted Benji to have a reasonable grip on authority, to be shiny and new and out of his depth but still empowered because of his accomplishments. He has managed to land a good job working for the US government, he successfully emigrated before he was 30 years old, he has an apartment and a cat, he's new to everything in the spy world but he also has a steel spine that frankly he's fucking earned.
Which is a long-winded way of saying that Benji is a bitch and I love him so much.
Bell's face was blank, but Benji could almost feel how fast his brain was moving, weighing his options. Eventually, he settled on huffing out a little chuckle and stepping closer to Benji. "Hi."
Meanwhile, Ethan. MI1-era Ethan is very very smart but very very traumatised. His skillset is rooted in controlling people and predicting them. So Benji, a fucking civilian, catching him off-guard like this is like waving a red flag at a bull. Or dangling a steak over a lion enclosure. Benji doesn't know it yet but he's setting himself up to be a tasty treat for Ethan Hunt circa the late 90s.
"Are you going to kill me or something?" Benji asked. "Is that your spook job, are you a hitman?"
The flash of expression on Bell's face was offended. (This makes me laugh every time. Ethan Hunt is not a killer unless he absolutely must be and he will go out of his way to avoid it. Being an assassin is gross and he doesn't want to be perceived at all bc he's a spy but if he MUST be perceived jfc don't assume he's a HITMAN) "What, no. I justâŠ" Grimacing, he looked away, eyes scanning the other pedestrians around them. "Okay, I'm screwing this up, I can admit that. Can we talk somewhere private?"
Benji didn't even have to think about it. "We can talk somewhere public."
Benji is never going to be an IMF agent but his instincts are wildly correct. And that knowledge comes from a different place! He was a gay punk rock vagabond who dropped out of law school, he knows how to keep out of trouble. He is probably the guy who told his other punk friends "if you are arrested do not say a goddamn thing, just ask for your public defender, don't joke, don't be a smartarse, keep your mouth shut."
The smile that took over Bell's face was lovely, transforming his whole face from storm clouds to something more seasonal. "That's honestly a very smart answer, doc. C'mon, there's a bakery nearby. I'll buy you a coffee. Least I can do."
It really was, so Benji nodded and followed him.
They didn't speak until Bell opened the glass door to another shop and held it open for Benji.
"Wrong hand," Benji said, noticing the small wince Bell let out.
"Inside, doc."
If it isn't obvious, all of the observational skills Benji has canonically have been funneled into his preternatural observation of patients.
Basically, if Benji as a character has a specific set of SPECIAL stats, all of those are the same, he just has different tagged skills in this universe.
Canon Benji is probably.... Guns, Science, and Repair. PT Benji has Medicine, Barter, Speech.
"Not a doctor," Benji said. "You know I'm not a doctor."
"What do you want to drink, doc?"
Ethan is being purposefully annoying and I could write a whole post about Ethan's soft power and the way he manipulates people, but that'd be another post. Short version: some people you seduce, some people you act like a wounded gazelle at, and some people you annoy.
Inside the bakery was loud. It was a strangely open floor plan. A long pastry case cordoned off the seating area for the customers. On the other side was just⊠the bakery. There were ovens and industrial mixers and rolling racks of cooling bread. In the corner, the espresso machine howled with noise as the milk frother worked.
It smelled divine, like living inside a baguette during a spring shower of dark roast coffee.
It also was a constant racket, which Benji mentioned to Bell as he sat down and slid a dark tea with vanilla syrup across to Benji.
"That's the point," Bell said, slouching back in his chair. "It's very difficult to eavesdrop in here."
Well, he wasn't wrong. Looking to another occupied table nearby, Benji briefly tried to pick out a word of what was being said by the woman seated closest to him. Nothing.
"Right, then," Benji said, attention back on Bell. "Why are you following me?"
"Why?" Bell seemed taken aback.
One of the many moments in the early chapters that establish that Ethan's perception of Normal is not anything approaching actual normal.
"Yes, why."
"Normal intelligence collection."
"On your physical therapist?" Benji asked with a barked laugh.
"Yeah." Bell leaned on his elbows, one hand cupping his own jaw and holding his head up as he made uncomfortably direct eye contact. "You really don't know who I am? Or why some of the appointments on your calendar come with no information?"
Pursing his lips, Benji shook his head.
Blowing out a whistle through his teeth, Bell grinned. "Sorry, that's just⊠it's new. I'm surprised Dr. Falsion didn't clue you in, but I guess she's not technically supposed to." Lifting his mug, he looked down into it. "People do shit they're not technically supposed to all the time in this town."
Ethan's major trauma at this point is being targeted by Kittridge and the Mole Hunt, and his trust in people to do their jobs is at a critical low that it'll never recover from.
"I don't even know your name," Benji sighed, sipping his own drink. It didn't taste at all like iocaine powder, so he was probably safe for the moment.
Bell rested his temple against the knuckles of his hand, his gaze so intense that Benji didn't know how to look away without making it patently obvious he was unsettled. Whatever Bell saw, it made his lips curve up slight. "Alright. Yeah. My name is Ethan. I work for an organization that shouldn't legally exist, so that's why you don't get anything on me. Even CIA jackboots manipulating local governments are realer than I am." He blinked once. "Also, I was an unprofessional shitheel last session, and I apologize."
Ethan apologizes here because Benji has earned his respect. And also by earning his respect, Ethan is also aware that Benji is not going to be so easy to maneuver around, so he fesses up that he was a prick, softly setting up a different tactic with Benji.
Benji felt his eyes going wider and wider with every sentence until it was a little hard to breathe. So his patient wasn't the American equivalent of an MI5 or MI6 so much as an MI8?
That did sort of start to explain what a pain in the ass he was.
"Shame," Benji managed after a moment of sitting fairly gobsmacked. "I was getting attached to 'Bell.' But I appreciate⊠all that. Thanks." He frowned. "Are you saying all this because you're actually sorry or are you sick of being stonewalled?"
Benji has a much more cynical mind than Ethan is the funny thing. Benji gets arguably more accurate reads on people than Ethan does. Or, Ethan gets accurate reads but he is continuously poisoned by the hope that people will be better than he expects. So FUNCTIONALLY, Ethan is an optimist and Benji is a realist.
Bellâ Ethanâ grinned. "That's a very good question. You actually have great instincts, doc. You did a surprisingly good job of shaking me when I was tailing you, especially for a civilian."
One of my favorite running gags is Benji being impossible to tail, so I'm glad we really drove it home the first time it happened. I love consistency in longfic.
"Again: thanks. Don't suppose you'll answer my other question?"
Ethan sipped his coffee, his smile visible around the edge of his cup.
"Right," Benji sighed. At least this felt like progress. And at least he probably wasn't going to be disappeared by a government assassin. That was a relief.
So this entire bit is Ethan reassessing Benji and pivoting his methods and tactics, setting up for a better way of handling Benji. And also being kind of charmed by him.
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đđĄđšđŹđ đđ«đšđđšđđšđ„ : đđ©đđđŁ đđȘđŁđ© đ đđđđđđ§
PART 1 PART 2 PART 3
-------- MASTERLIST
When you are sent on a mission to rescue Ethan Hunt from prison, the events that domino will force you to face the ghosts of your past and your guilt tied to Ethan.
This takes place throughout the events of ghost protocol. There will be a change in the story and the events of the mission impossible 2 and 3. Ethan and Julia never got married, a certain amount of information will be changed that will be revealed in the story.Â

As you and Ethan walked into the Kremlin, you couldn't shake the feeling of something going on that the team isn't aware of. A part of you supposed that the only reason you feel the way you do is because of your proximity to Ethan and your role in this mission with him.Â
You knew you were a capable agent and you had faith in your abilities; you had served your time to rebuilt your trust in your instincts after the incident that happened, after you were benched from the team and had your file and skills as an agent reevaluated.Â
As you and Ethan cleared the metal detector and security check, you followed him up and held onto the case, feeling a minor sense of relief once the barriers had been cleared.Â
"General."
You and Ethan stopped in your tracks.Â
"I am Major Egorov."
You and Ethan turned to look at the Major standing behind the desk. He looked at Ethan, "your documents."
Ethan slowly went over to him, with you following suit. Russian rolled off his tongue as he spoke deeply, "you should know your boss." he stated, staring him down as he handed him his identification.Â
The two of you held your breaths as he ran it through the system.Â
You swallowed as Benji's voice crackled in your ear, "almost there. give it a few seconds." he reassured you and Ethan.Â
"I can't find you." the major spoke, hesitant under Ethan's gaze. His eyes slid over to you before benji spoke again, "try now." he saidÂ
"Please Run it again." You spoke slowly, feigning timidness from both the general and the major.Â
The major shot a look at you before looking back to Ethan's stare, before trying again. As soon as he did so, the identification came up confirmed.Â
"Excuse me general..I didn't recognize you." the major spoke immediately, saluting him. Ethan shot him a look before walking off with you on his tail. As you walked past the soldiers who saluted Ethan, you heard him speak again when you were out of sight and earshot, "your Russian is rusty." he said quietly, staring ahead as he walked. Your eyes were subtly scanning the area as you followed him, "I haven't been practicing." you answered.Â
Soon you and Ethan hurried down towards the archive room, using a decoder to get past the doors and providing Benji a direct route to mess with the cameras. Â
You went to check the private who was sitting at the desk, aiming the tiny camera towards him. As you focused on getting a clear view and checking the tablet screen, a presence and warm breath near your neck and collar made your hair stand up.Â
Ethan looked over your shoulder and at the screen as you tensed up, warmth radiating from his body over to yours. Your breath stuttered as you tried to keep focused, unsure on how you felt so out of practice after months over re-training yourself to be a good--if not better---agent.Â
The sound of the telephone going off felt too loud amongst your cluttered thoughts, ceasing its noise as soon as the private picked up the receiver and spoke into it. You didn't notice the shake of your hand as you went to grab the mimicry tool, feeling Ethan's hand cover yours and steady your hold on the tool.Â
Your eyes closed as he looked at you in silent concern, swallowing down your frustration with yourself and how your body was reacting to feeling Ethan's warmth and touch on you, "im sorry.." you whispered, looking down at his hand on yours. His knuckles were still scarred and bruised, the mere sight of it, regardless of how many times its appeared and how normal it was, making your heart ache.Â
"Look at me." he whispered quietly.Â
Easier said than done.Â
You hesitated before slowly moving your gaze up to him. "im fine." you muttered, looking over his eyes.Â
He was about to speak before the two of you heard the receiver turn to the telephone. You moved your hand slowly out of his grasp and looked at the tablet, before raising the tool and clicking it.
Drip Drops began to echo the hall, confusing the private as he stood up to go check the restroom.Â
Ethan rushed to put the screen up, before you followed and connected the tablet to the screen, letting it sync and project just the private returned from mini investigation.Â
You pressed the tool again, distracting him to check somewhere else for the source of the sound, making you and Ethan push forward. You followed his lead before you stopped, freezing in place he looked at the screen; confused.Â
The private left to check again, and Ethan signaled you to freeze the image on the screen so that it doesn't reflect you or Ethan moving across the camera.Â
As you ensured the camera scanned the area, the camera caught the edge of your head. You found yourself suddenly tugged into Ethan's grasp as the Private turned to the hallway quicker than estimated. He stared down at the screen, making you and Ethan hold your breaths as he held you close against him, frozen so as to not make any sudden moves. Your fingers tightened around his jacket before the screen set in place, the private sitting down at his desk again. Ethan's hand slowly left the small of your back and moved over the camera, testing it.Â
When the private showed no reaction, the tension from your body dissipated abit, letting out a silent sigh as you closed your eyes briefly and leaned against him. Ethan steadied you, Â looking into your eyes with a silent question. You looked at him and nodded, "im sorry...go." you mouthed as you slowly let go of him. He didn't move, one hand staying on your hip and the other on the small of you back. He looked at you before looking at the private, then letting go.Â
The absence of his warmth woke your brain from its stupor, making return to the process of criticizing your mistake and how even a new field agent wouldn't have made such a dumb mistake.Â
Ethan left to enter the archive room as you secured the tablet back in its place.Â
After a minute you heard Ethan's voice, "the nest is empty." through the comms. Before you or any of the other members of your team ask further, the four of you heard crackling before the sound of someone being choked.Â
The bad feeling that you had at the beginning of this mission returned tenfold when the sound of a neck being snapped echoed through your comms.Â
"check in team leader." an unknown voice spoke.Â
All of you stayed silent.Â
"check in team leader. have you made it to the archive room?"Â
"shit." you muttered and ran into the room, finding Ethan. "someone's piggybacking our frequency." you whispered to him as he looked at you with wide eyes. The man's voice returned.Â
"Team leader. Awaiting your go sign. standing by to detonate."Â
Ethan looked at you. "abort." he took off his comms, you doing the same as the two of you exited. "rendezvous nine two." he said as the two of you split up.Â
You watched Ethan head out to a different direction, worry settling in your chest before you exited as quick as you could.Â
Ethan would be okay.
You knew it.Â
#Ethan hunt x reader#Ethan hunt imagine#Ethan hunt#mission impossible#mission impossible 4#mission impossible: ghost protocol#tom cruise#Ethan hunt fic#ghost protocol
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business
Their first evening on the island, Benji tries for her on the phone three times before the call successfully connects. Sheâs sat in her living room, legs tucked up onto a massive, bulbous orange couch that sheâd bought as a statement piece.Â
(âWhatâs it supposed to say?â Benji had asked her. âIâm the ugliest fuckinâ couch on the face of the planet?â)
When Benji opens his mouth to speak, Saha lifts a finger. Her newest model, incredibly expensive phone canât fix their shit connection, so the whole scene is blurry. Every so often, Saha will move and speak before the picture can catch up. Glitches and pixels and syncing issues tear the image of her into colorful, strange portions. It makes Benji think of the girl, the case. Whatever displeasure he feels must show.Â
Saha drops her hand, authoritative finger curling into her palm. âBad, then?â
Benji nods. He busies himself unpacking the humble suitcase, carefully pulling dress shirts and slacks to hang at the window of his tiny room at the inn.
âIs this a âcanât talk about itâ silence, or a âshut up Iâm thinking, Sahaâ silence?â
Benji, back to the camera, holds up two fingers.Â
âOkay. Iâll talk âtil then.âÂ
âWish you wouldnât,â Benji mutters without meaning it. He, of course, listens intently as Saha updates him about goings-on back on the mainland. Despite not having the stomach for it, Saha had accepted an offer from Tino to work as their case archivist. They donât work a job that Saha isnât privy to, doesnât organize travel for, wonât retain a meticulously organized file in their office for later reference. Every t crossed, i capped with her signature hollow dot.Â
Only thing sheâs not yet experienced in is minding her chattiness.
âHave a chance to look at the photos yet?â
âYou interrupted me,â Saha points out. Sheâs walking around her kitchen as she talks but now pauses to lean down level with the counter and peer at Benji through the camera. âThat was rude.â
He shrugs, what can you do sort of gesture. âFinished thinking. Ready to talk business. Well?âÂ
Saha picks up her phone and taps at the screen with a scrunched brow. âDonât see any pictures â oh, wait. Email?â
âYep.â
Benji waits patiently while she opens the message. Her face twists again in a brief flash of confusion before she laughs. âFucking â this is what you get for letting Tino take them.âÂ
A strange, icy chill settles over his shoulders. âWhat?â
âTheyâre awful, Benji. Not just,â she waves her free hand vaguely in the air.âYeah, I mean, itâs a dead gutted girl on a slab, ew. But then these, of the scene where they found her?â Saha shakes her head. âSend them over again. Maybe they were corrupted with that shite connection.â
âI walked all the way to that stuffy fucking library to make sure the internet was as good as it could be on this piss-shit island. They should be fine.â Benji whines. He lifts his phone from where heâs propped it. âWhich ones arenât?â He asks, swiping quickly through the photos.
âThe ones in the coronerâs place are fine. From the last couple of days, I assume? Everything before that â so, like, the one from above at the beach, looking down at the rocks? I can see the police tape and, ew ew ew, the victimâs leg p-poking out of the water. But the rest of it, waist-up, and the ones after that are totally ruined.â
âRuined?â Benji taps back to their call, staring at her.Â
âIt looks like Tino dropped his phone in the ocean or something. Theyâve got water damage.â
âWe didnât take those,â Benji says, sitting upright on the roomâs tiny twin bed. âInnsmouthâs PD did. â
âEw,â Saha mutters at the mention of cops. Her voice is tinny as the connection falters once more. When Benji turns in a thoughtful circle, she has more of a view of the room. âEw! Didnât you just get into the inn? Howâve you already made it that fuckinâ messy, Benj?â
âShut up.â He snips under his breath. The twist of curiosity tightening his chest morphs into a brief clip of panic. âShut up,â he says again, swiping furiously through the pictures. Sarahâs pallid, waxy face. Her autopsy photos from Ben. A close-up of her fingernails and a defensive rash across her knuckles. Her torn sternum and its interior.Â
And then the lot of them where sheâd first been found the beach. Upper half in the water, legs doll-like and limp with battered bruises that would be nearly impossible to place pre- or post-death. Benji flicks through more and more, every photo that theyâd been sent, that the police had taken. Every image becomes increasingly unrecognizable, like they were taken on an ancient roll of damaged film. Benji can almost make out what each composition ought to be with the hints of color and the horizon, landmarks of jutting rock and scraggly shoreline tree and brush.
He blinks several times, his brain encouraging him that an explanation for the fogginess of the images is his own vision. Except itâs not. Heâs still got his glasses on, and while similar, the distorted pictures lookâŠdifferent than eyes without correction. Worse. More alien.Â
âYou know those pictures of celebs that, like, wear shirts that say fuck you on them, or flick off the camera so the paparazzi canât use them â too much work to blur and edit while youâre on a crunch.âÂ
âSaha,â Benji sighs in exasperation. âI do not want to fuckinâ talk about Cate Blanchett right now ââ
âNo, oh, shove off. Fuck yourself,â Saha spits rapidly. Her face becomes noticeably darker with the blush. âIâm saying â okay, Iâve just spent the last few minutes looking at the corpse of a young woman, so forgive me if Iâve a mind to use a bit of humor to cope with that, yeah?â She huffs. âIâm just saying, it reminds me of those celebrity pictures, right?â
âExplain.â
She rolls her eyes. âItâs nothing, was just gonna make a joke about some celebrity standing out on the horizon in a shitty graphic tee with a non-publishable word. You know, because the photos are all shit. Canât be used. Not a great punchline, now that I think about it.â
Canât be used.
âWait.âÂ
âOh, no.â Saha whispers. âThatâs your âgone and figured it outâ voice. Whatâre you about to kick off with, here?â
Benji shakes his head in disbelief. The thoughts still churn, messy puzzle pieces bouncing around that he feels he needs to snatch from the air to see clearly. And the picture they slowly create in Benjiâs mind is as distorted and wrong as the pictures theyâre discussing.
âNo, not by a fuckinâ slim chance. Saha it canât ââ he swipes back and forth through the photos again. He feels mental even considering⊠âThis donât make any sense.â
âDickhead. Can you just spit it out, please? The anticipation is kind of killing me.âÂ
Sahaâs teasing smile falters and drops off entirely as Benji talks his conclusion through, because it is a nonsensical explanation. But with the evidence presented, itâs the only one heâs got. Every single photo that has distortion is a photo whose composition points towards the ocean. Towards the depths of churning gray waters that cradle Innsmouth.Â
âThereâs gotta be another explanation.â
Saha retreats to the living room to fall back on her couch, hair splayed in a messy halo around her head. âBesides âhaunted and/or sentient ocean doesnât want its picture takenâ?â She snorts meanly. âYeah, Iâd say.â
*
It has to be the police. Usually is a matter of incompetence on their end that fucks evidence, ruins cases. Benji knows it first hand. Also knows that if you need something done better, itâs useless to have somebody else make an attempt.Â
So Benji throws his coat back on and winds a scarf around his neck just in case thereâs an extra chill. He darts down the inn stairs towards Wolffeâs bedroom, which had been pointed out to him âin case he needed anythingâ. Seemed like an emergency enough to need anything, and thatâs what breaks his fist-raised hesitation at the door enough to knock.
Thirty seconds pass before it swings open. Benji wishes it hadnât at all. Wishes he could turn on heel and march back to his room, scrub this from his brain, distort it like the almost-artful glitches in the crime scene images.Â
Xavier rubs at his face tiredly, apples of his cheeks pronounced with the force of that grin. His little âohâ of greeting sounds more shocked than hospitable. But the posture, shoulder propped in an effortless lean against the frame and arms crossed over a bare chest, reads friendly â no. Eager.Â
âHi.â The fisherman breathes. He shuffles in place a bit and then moves to the side, offering space to enter.Â
âSorry, mate.â Benji says without thinking. âBusiness.â
He winces internally, kicking himself for even the slight hint of unprofessional flintiness. He really hadnât intended to have it sound that way.Â
Xavier swallows and stands straight, rolls his shoulders. Less casual and open about it now. That massive, toothy grin has faltered slightly. His fist tucks up towards his chin rubbing along the edge of bone in a gesture obviously meant to soothe. Broke a manâs jaw last month, Benji thinks. With that hand? Or are you a southpaw, mate?
âWell, yeah.â Xavier interrupts his straying thoughts. âFigured. What else?â
They blink at each other in unison then. An odd tension fills the space, so Benji clears his throat to quickly dissipate it. Has to keep good rapport with the only local whoâll acknowledge his existence beside Ben, doesnât he?
âWhat did he do?â Benji blurts.Â
Xavier raises his eyebrows. âSorry?âÂ
In for one, he supposes. âThe man you assaulted.â Benji taps his jaw, and Xavierâs eyes flick to it. Then he flushes such a brilliant, embarrassed red that Benji feels a bit guilty for bringing it up.Â
âUh ââ Xavier coughs into his fist, eyes darting in nervous circles that spiral everywhere and anywhere but Benji. âUh, hah, I mean. Heâs from some rich mainland family. They bought up a bunch of the properties, donât even fucking live here. Swear, theyâre always talking about putting in some coffeeshop or artisan crafts or some other wacky shit. And this guy, heâs just ââ
âA prick?â Benji offers when he pauses. Xavierâs grin comeback full force and he nods. âRight. Well, deserved it then.â
Another pause passes between them. Benji looks at the slight curve to the bridge of his nose instead of those intense eyes. In the low light spilling from his room, haloing him and dusting Benji and the hallway in gold, they almost seem to glow.
âSo. Business.âÂ
Xavierâs smile curls. âBusiness.â
Benji explains quickly, and hopefully with enough authority that the local doesnât think him fucking mad for even toying with the possibility. Then again, there are a bunch of perfectly rational explanations: radioactivity distorting the images like right-after pictures of Chernobyl, electromagnetic fuckery that he doesnât understand sourced from the array of fishing vessels in the surrounding waters, solar flares reflecting off the water and frying the cameraâs delicate anatomy.Â
At the end, when heâs well and truly winded himself rambling on possibilities working them through verbally, Xavier only twists at the waist to glance towards the window in his room. Benji ignores that, and the ripple of muscle, and the pale skin, and the severe curve of his spine, and âÂ
âNot now.â The local says firmly. âSunâs down.â He peers at Benji with a furrowed brow. âI was serious about being out on the water at night. Go get some sleep, and weâll be off first thing in the morning.â
âYeah,â Benji says stupidly, taking a step back that he nearly trips over. âYeah, aâright. See you bright and early.âÂ
Xavier flashes his eyes suggestively wide, lip caught between his teeth. âOooh. Itâs a date.â
Benji ignores that, because otherwise he really, really wonât.Â
*
Benji doesnât sleep, but instead drifts. Itâs a lazy, bobbing sort of rest, although he hesitates to call it that. Each time he wakes, he feels worse.
He dreams of plucking through gritty, textured beach pebbles and scraping his knuckles raw. He wakes, falls back into the light sleep. He dreams of treading water. He wakes, and it takes longer for the comforting touch of unconscious to take him. He dreams again. It is the third and final dream Benji will have for the entirety of the time he spends in Innsmouth, but he doesnât know that yet. When he wakes in a sweaty haze of panic, all he recalls is the cloudy, deep purple of water mixed with blood.Â
 Benji doesnât sleep after that. He sits up in bed and writes in his journal. He sits up in bed and scribbles notes, works through the case as they know it, and â draws. His sketches arenât the usual wounds on bodies, or composites of suspects. Isnât just the crime scene, or the view of the townâs lighthouse on the horizon as a boat approaches, or the cute bulging eyes of Geico, Maranâs boat mascot.Â
Tonight, theyâre of a particular face.
*
When Xavier comes to collect him, the windows have fogged with early morning chill. Benjiâs leaning his head against the glass tracing a frosted pattern with his finger when he knocks.
Wordless and unceremoniously, Xavier shoves a bundle of fabric into his chest. âHere. Scarf isnât warm enough.â
Benji glances over at the chair heâd tossed his scarf. âDone me well so far.â
Xavier clicks his tongue. âYeah, but this is Innsmouth.â His chin is obscured by a scarf of his own. Thereâs a tiny, carefully embroidered X on one tasseled end, which makes Benji smile. âColdâs different.â
*
Different and worse, because all they really need to get to the spot that the Laun girl was found is a dinghy. Benjiâs a bit perturbed by it. The shakiness of it on even the calm waves, how a gap between planks has been sealed by what he hopes is waterproof glue but sincerely doubts.Â
Xavier must notice the tight grip he has on either side of it, because he tosses his head back and laughs.Â
*
Once theyâve reached the little inlet and Benji has taken his own photos of the area that had almost proven to be Launâs final resting place before she was discovered, theyâre deep in conversation. Benji had been shocked to discover how easily it flowed on the dinghy ride over, and flattened to his ass by how Xavier kept up with his trailing thoughts, jumps between topics. They discuss the town, Xavierâs work, Benjiâs case history, and a bit about Saha while he works. In his phone, the pictures appear normal. No distortions, no glitches. Benji flips back and forth through them, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed blade-thin. Heâs waiting for the moment he swipes between two, and one has changed in the second it hadnât been observed. Liked fucked up iSpy.
âYou ever play iSpy as a kid?â Benji asks his screen, although the question is clearly intended for the fisherman. âThose pictures books with all the little bits nâshit, set up where youâve got to find each thing.â
âEngine died.âÂ
He whirls around. âSorry?â
âEngine. Died.â Xavier swears under his breath, both hands pressed to his forehead. He straights slowly from his hunch over the dinghy. âShit.âÂ
Benjiâs responding laugh is cruel and low. âYeah, Iâll fuckinâ say. Give it another go?â
âIf itâs not busted yet, that will do it,â Xavier snaps back. His hands lift into his hair, fingers wound into the messy auburn. âOh, fuck.â
Benji follows his gaze off to the horizon, where a massive wall of bubbling, near-black clouds has suddenly appeared. Or⊠maybe not suddenly. Theyâd been engrossed in conversation on the ride over, too, but it seemed unlikely someone of Xavierâs experience and caliber wouldnât notice a storm-darkened sky in the early hours.
âOh, fuck.â Benji echoes. On cue, a peel of growling thunder shakes across the sky. The storm is rolling in fast. Its accompanying wind snatches at Benjiâs face like claws, stinging. He keeps having to push his hair out of his face as it whips around. âWe have to get to that fishing shack on the north side.â
Xavier doesnât seem to hear him over the thunder and wind, which come quick and loud and unignorable even as they stand there. âI canât tell which direction the windâs coming from,â he says in nearly-silent awe. Terror, maybe.Â
âXavier. The shack.â
Finally, his pretty face pinches in disgusted dismay. âMan, she could have been killed in thereââÂ
âAnd weâll get fucking killed out here if we stay, yeah? No brainer, if you ask me.â He swings his arm out, gesturing a go ahead towards the shack. âBet itâs so nice on the inside. Fully updated, stainless steel appliances, central heating.â
Xavierâs angrily pouting mouth twitches. âBay windows?â
âOh, big ones mate. Kind you can sit in.â Benji gestures again, shifting from foot to foot. His boots are made to be sturdy, but not warm. âGâwed, get in there please, mâfreezing my fucking arse off right now, in, please.âÂ
Xavier allows himself to be nudged into motion, although his face is pinched. His cheeks are ruddy, whipped raw-looking from the wind that begins to pick up.
*
The shack isnât updated. And it certainly isnât, by any stretch of some shady rental companyâs terms and conditions, habitable. Privately, Benji wonders if it was where Laun was killed. The furniture is dusty with disuse yet strewn about in a messy arrangement of upturned end tables, chairs with broken legs, and a dingy, stained mattress that looks as if itâs been bisected with a knife. Benji blows one of its feathers from his mouth.Â
âStainless steel.â He deadpans, nudging Xavier and gesturing towards the kitchen where a strangely spotless kettle sits on the outdated stove. Â
âShut up.â Xavier hisses. His arms are tucked around himself. He mirrors Benjiâs chilled pose, knees tucked towards his chest. âWhen is this storm gonna fucking stop?â
âLet me check,â Benji says dryly, pulling his phone from his pocket. The screen flashes a black SOS symbol â no cellular connection for even an emergency call. Benji doubts the Innsmouth police would come if beckoned. Ben has made it clear theyâve got a special hatred for the investigators, and Benji doesnât doubt it would clean up unwanted threads for them if he were to justâŠdisappear in a storm.Â
He glances over at Xavier, who looks pale in the dim light, sun snuffed from the sky by thunder and heavy, brutal rain.
âYou tell anybody where you were going?â He quirks a brow, smile twitchy with a hint of worry. âYour partner?â
Xavier looks back at him from his peripheral and scowls. Answer enough, but he goes on: âNo, weather looked fine. Thought we would be quick.â
âMe either,â Benji says, although he isnât asked. âGonna be quick to fucking freeze solid, at least.â He huffs out a laugh, tucks the scarf around his face more. âTheyâll cart me off to some posh restaurant. Make an ice sculpture out of me to put in the lobby, or some shit.â
âWhat the fuck are you talking about.â Xavierâs laughing as the words spill out, less a judgmentally confused question and more amused. He scoots closer to Benji, one long arm reaching around his shoulders. The movement and proximity has Benji truly freezing, going still as anything. But Xavier only grabs for the blanket tossed over the back of the filthy couch they sit on. He pulls it around his own body.Â
âThis is just ideal for you, huh?â Benji snorts, hoping no acknowledgment of his own wriggling is made. Xavier simply lifts his arm, draping the blanket around them both. Itâs thin; the thing that really takes the chill from him, seeps it out of his bones like a sponge, is the warmth radiating from the body beside him. A stranger, pressed shoulder to hip to thigh to ankle, right in his personal bubble. And Benji, for some reason privy only to the mysterious universe, wraps an arm around his waist.Â
âKind of.â Xavier admits softly.Â
*
They fall asleep that way, despite the constant crash of thunder and pelting rain that Xavier will swear later turned into massive chunks of hail halfway through the storm. That part of it is lost to them. The lack of sleep from the previous night is what has Benji limp in heavy slumber. He briefly recalls slumping with a slack jaw against Xavierâs shoulder, but when he wakes their position is much different.Â
The blanket has been stretched over and tucked under his legs. Thereâs a telltale warmth against his back that, in his brief waking moment before sleep takes him again, he recognizes as another body. Arms around his waist, a nose pressed into his scalp. The scarf is too much around his neck, so he peels it away from sweaty skin and tosses it to the ground. Heâll forget it when they leave in the morning, but for now the plaid patterned fabric of gold and purple distorts in his vision as he falls unconscious once more.
No dreams.
*
Once the storm has passed, they wander outside to assess the damage. While the beach has been tossed and turned over, littered with fresh driftwood and brush torn from the dirt, the dinghy remains tied to the dock post and in one piece.Â
âNo fuckinâ way,â Benji breaths when Xavier yanks the cord and the engine purrs to life. âNo fucking way.â
Xavier taps a finger to Benjiâs chest. âBloop. Magic touch.â He wiggles his fingers in the air before helping Benji into the boat. âSome things are just so totally unexplainable.â
The entirety of Innsmouth will soon join that illustrious list of unexplainable things, but neither of them know that just quite yet.
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#file under: faces: bruno#file under: faces: fidel#file under: faces: arthur#file under: faces: lorenzo#file under: faces: will#file under: faces: virgil#file under: faces: eros#file under: faces: benji#file under: faces: ezra#file under: faces: ruben#file under: faces: stan#file under: faces: stanley#file under: faces: ford#file under: faces: stanford#file under: faces: hyde#file under: faces: billy#file under: faces: tyler#file under: faces: romeo#file under: faces: ilya#file under: faces: heir
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WELCOME TO OUR NEW MEMBERS!
SNOW has been accepted as BENJI FENWICK (Peter Gadiot) and ALECTO CARROW (Kristine Forseth)! You can find their application under the cut.
011. ââââ is that PETER GADIOT? no, its actually BENJY FENWICK! according to HIS file, they are a TWENTY-EIGHT year old FORMER RAVENCLAW. they reside FULL TIME in scotland because they are working AGAINST lord voldemort and they believe in the LIGHT. that explains why they are so KIND and BRAVE. but iâve found that they can also be PUGNACIOUS and RECKLESS, so i guess people canât be all good! they always reminded me of BREAKFAST FOR DINNER, FIGHTING UNTIL YOUR LAST BREATH, NEVER KNOWING WHEN TO BACK DOWN FROM A FIGHT, âDO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT; RAGE, RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHTâ. i heard from albus dumbledore that they are currently working as SENIOR AUROR. i donât know about you, but iâm excited to see what their story holds!
012. ââââ is that KRISTINE FROSETH? no, its actually ALECTO CARROW! according to HER file, they are an TWENTY-FIVE year old FORMER SLYTHERIN. they reside PART TIME in scotland because they are working FOR lord voldemort and they believe in the DARK. that explains why they are so WITTY and DEDICATED. but iâve found that they can also be JUDGEMENTAL and IMPULSIVE, so i guess people canât be all good! they always reminded me of STORMY WEATHER, WINNING AN ARGUMENT, âIN THE LAND OF GODS AND MONSTERS I WAS AN ANGELâ, BLOOD SMEARED FACES, THE AURORA BOREALIS. i heard from albus dumbledore that they are currently working as DRAGONOLOGIST. i donât know about you, but iâm excited to see what their story holds!
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Iâm taking abyssâs singular like as an invitation, so⊠here we are! (Benjamin and MC are placeholder names)
Placing it under the cut :]
MC tapped a finger on his desk, a displeased look on his face. Yet another report he had no time to fill out, the stack of paperwork sitting on his desk ever-growing. He placed the report at the top of the pile, before reaching for the next set of papers. MCâs eyes widened as he read the cover, labelled âBenjamin Whittingâ. Benjamin was a good friend of his, the salt of the earth. With that in mind, MC pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, interested to see the reason as to why a file on Benji sat on his desk. Licking a finger and flipping the file open, MC quickly blanched. Waiting for him on the first page was a graphic photo of Benjamin, dead on the floor of his living room, surrounded by what could only be his blood, if the massive hole through his stomach was any indicator.
MC sat there for a moment, lost for words. Who would do this? Who would want to hurt sweet Benji? He sighed deeply, leaning backwards in his chair as he tossed the file back on the desk. He removed his glasses, dropping the arm limply to the side while his other hand rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His eyes were clenched shut, as if the fact that he couldn't see that accursed file would fix things, but the photo was burnt into the back of his eyes. After a few minutes of staggered breathing and twitching eyelids, MC brought his hand away from his face and replaced his glasses, then grabbed the file back. He had to figure this out; whoever did this to Ben will face justice, especially if he had any say in the matter. Steeling his nerves, MC tentatively opened the file once more, quickly moving the photo out of view. He scanned the first page, scratching at his moustache, before turning the page. Bushy eyebrows furrowed, golden eyes flicking across the magnified photo of Benâs ID that took up the entire page.
âWhy was this included?â he hummed to himself, deep voice laced with confusion. He ran a hand through short brown and grey hair, scratching at the back of his scalp.
Guys guys guys
I have to write a short mystery story or whatever for an assignment (teacher said 600 words, I say whatever I crank out)
I have it on a doc somewhere, Iâll paste and post it if anyone wants to help me figure out wtf Iâm doing lol
#any critique is very much appreciated#writing#e#Eâs growing insanity#personal#guys please I donât know what to dooo#assignment help
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Day 3 of Benthan Week 2022 - Hurt/Comfort
@benthan-week-2022
Words: 3376
Benji sat down with a sigh, his legs were aching from running so far. Luther was all the way across the other side of the city and after theyâd already ran five miles in almost half an hour, Benji couldnât take running another ten right now.
This mission was meant to be simple, they all were, but this was exceedingly simple. Go in, get a file, get out. The building was meant to be closed. No one was meant to be in. It was meant to be a simple mission, simple enough that they could debrief and actually get a few days off to spend some time together as a couple.
But then some people were working late, important people doing important, almost definitely illegal, things. Which meant that security guards were in, so they couldnât just sneak in like they wanted.
Ethan sat down next to him. For once, he was looking worse for wear than Benji was. A sluggish sheen of sweat shimmered on his face. His eyes were closed as he panted.Â
âYou alright?â He asked.Â
Ethan gulped hard, made it look painful, âIâm fine.â
Benji pulled the file out from under his shirt and settled back against the wall.
âNo offense, but you donât look fine.â
He gulped again and let out a groan.Â
âIâm getting old, thatâs all,â he said. âCanât run a six minute mile and be fine afterwards, Iâm not twenty anymore.â
Benji laughed, âReally? You still look it.â
Ethan laughed. More sweat trickled down his forehead in beads. He pulled at his collar a few times, flapping it to start a breeze on his flushed face.Â
Benji rummaged around in his pocket for a second. He swore he had some gum in here. He always tried to keep some, just in case the anxiety got too bad in a tight spot, something to distract his brain from the sense of impending doom, shock him into being calmer.Â
Pulling it out, he turned to Ethan, âGum?â
He shook his head as Benji placed a stick in his mouth. The shocking mint hit him as he watched the traffic go by. Theyâd stopped outside a florist. The night was thick and the scent of flowers mixed with the sparking atmosphere of the night.Â
In the city, he couldnât see the stars, it was one of the major things he missed about his little rural town in England, apart from his family, but he had a new one now. One that didnât make him feel insecure about being who he was, one that were okay with risking their lives because they believed in something, one that cared about him no matter what.
It had taken him a while to accept that people could care for him properly. His self esteem was at rock bottom for most of his teen years, it wasnât until he reached his mid thirties that he started to force himself to believe that he actually was the same person that everyone cared about. He had to learn to love himself, hype himself up and understand that he could still make mistakes and be loved.
Ethan had played a major role in that. He could tell he liked to make sure the people he cared about knew that they were worth it. Heâd accepted long ago that his life may be cut short. So, he had to make the most of the time that he had and make sure people knew that he loved them.
With a smile, he cracked his gum. Luther would get here in a few minutes, he wasnât even on this mission, was given an impromptu phone call. He had been on a date, and would have plenty to say about them splitting up another chance of having some resemblance of a normal life.Â
He turned back to Ethan. His stomach dropped.
The sweat on Ethanâs face had sank into his shirt. His skin was tinged green under the harsh light of the streetlights. His eyes were half closed and breath came out in wheezes.
âEthan!â Benji exclaimed. âWhat happened? Why didnât you say anything?â
He slumped onto Benji shoulder. His hair was sticky and wet but he didnât care.
âDidnât want you to worry, itâs nothing.â
His voice was quiet, soft and grumbly. Benji shook him, gently slapped his face as he started to grow heavier on his shoulder.
âThink I mightâve been poisoned, though,â
âPoisoned? How?â
Ethan blinked slowly and lay heavier onto Benjiâs shoulder. This was starting to concern him. Poison wasnât something you could just sleep off. If he was losing consciousness, then that could only mean he was close to the end.
ââMember when I fought those guards, around where we got the file?â
Benji nodded. He had to remind himself to breathe. Him panicking wouldnât fix this.
âTurns out that taser the guard had, wasnât a taser,â
âFuck.â Was all he could say and Ethan slipped further down.
His head fell onto his lap. There were goosebumps on his arms, hair stood on end as he whined.Â
âEthan, stay with me,â Benji said. âIâm going to call Luther, tell him to hurry the fuck up.â
Ethan nodded but it was barely a movement. Every part of him was getting still, giving into the night which seemed so much colder than it did a second ago. This was all happening so fast, too fast. It didnât seem real.Â
Ethan always got out of these situations, he always got up and Benji would give a sigh of relief. He wasnât actually meant to die. Not from a fight with a guard. If he did have to die, it would be dramatic, someone like Lane getting revenge, or some other bad guy theyâd faced. Not someone they didnât even know the name of. It was almost an insult. Ethan Hunt, the great IMF agent, brought down by a simple biological hack.
âWhat is it?â Luther said through the phone.
âItâs Ethan, he was hit with some kind of poison, heâs almost lost consciousness but Iâm trying to keep him awake.â Benji blurted, panic was getting the better of him.
âOkay, Iâll speed it up.â Luther said. âYou still outside the florists?â
âYeah,âÂ
âAlright, Iâll be there, hold on.â
The call ended and Benji turned back to Ethan. His eyelids were flickering shut. Something sticky was coming out of his mouth. It was like blood but orange, and didnât smell bad enough to be vomit.
âEthan, did you hear that, hey?â
He picked up his hand and squeezed it. It was getting cold, and clammy. Not a good sign.
âLutherâs on his way, youâve just got to hold a bit longer, you can do that,â
Ethan raised his eyebrows, stretching his eyelids as he tried to open them. Once he finally did, his eyes were red like heâd been crying, pupils were dilated and tears were welling up, falling onto his cheeks.Â
âBenji,â he spluttered. âLove you.â
âWait, wait, wait, I know what that means, Ethan, stay with me!â
Ethanâs eyes fluttered open and shut again. His breath quickend as more of that sticky, coppery liquid came out of his mouth. He groaned and shivered.Â
Benji ripped off his jacket and lay it on his trembling form, âYou can tell me you love me when we get to the hospital, yeah? Weâre not far from it, I remember the sirens going past as we ran, youâll be okay, yeah?â
He wasnât sure if he was saying it to himself or Ethan at this point. Ethan was barely paying attention. His head lolled about on Benjiâs lap as he rocked. Benji combed through his sweat drenched hair, he didnât care if his hand was a sticky mess, he needed Ethan to be okay.Â
âCome on, youâve got to stick with me, weâve got to finish the Star Trek movies, weâve got to watch Search for Spock, weâve got to see how the crew recover from Spockâs death, come on!â
In hindsight, that probably wasnât a good time to mention Star Trek. Theyâd arranged to finish off the Star Trek films on their time off after their mission. Ethan had been crying buckets at the end of Wrath of Khan, he had a thing for Spock, Benji had only half teased him for having a thing for smart people who could kick ass, and hadnât been okay with him dying. So probably not the best time to mention death, when he was dying in his arms.
âEthan, please,âÂ
His hand weakened in his clasp. His eyes flickered a few more times. He spluttered, bringing up more coppery fluid as he tried to form words around the pain.
âBenji.â He looked him directly in the eye now. âI love you.â
Benjiâs mouth faltered. The words didnât come at first but he had to force them to come.
âI love you, too.â
Ethan went limp. His eyes fell shut.
Benjiâs mind fell into a fog. He only realised now that his heart was beating so fast that it could burst right out of his chest. There was sweat on his own forehead now.Â
His body worked on autopilot. Hands reached to Ethanâs wrist as he felt for his pulse. A slow, barely present, beating against his fingertips. He was alive.
Benji fell back on his heels. This all happened so fast. The gum in his mouth had gone bland in the panic, but now he chewed faster. The anxiety, the deep dread that maybe heâd still be too late, that now that Ethan was unconscious, he may never wake up, filled him.Â
Because this was no fairytale. Ethan wasnât Snow White or Sleeping Beauty, although with his looks he certainly could be. This was the real world and irreversible comas led to life support being turned off. True loveâs kiss wouldnât solve this.
But he could try, a crazy thought came to him. Because maybe it was the anxiety or maybe he was just desperate. But Luther was nowhere to be seen, Ethan was still dying in his arms, and this might be his only chance to make a difference.
He caressed his sweaty cheek. Stray hairs were stuck to the skin, he stroked them away as he rubbed his cheekbone. It was almost like he was sleeping on a particularly hot day. It could almost be romantic, until he remembered why he was asleep, and the fact that he was lying on the dirty pavement surrounded by empty bottles and piss stains.Â
Still moving his thumb in circles, he lent down slowly and lay a gentle kiss on Ethanâs lips. The coppery liquid tasted of bile. His own tears, and both of their sweat, mixed and made for a rather disgusting taste in his mouth but he didnât care.
He lay another kiss where his thumb had been. Then on the other cheek, and his nose and forehead and chin, then back on his mouth again.
Ethan didnât move. His breaths grew fainter. There was no expression on his face. Not peace. Not frustration. Just empty, growing emptier.Â
The screeching sound of tires came around the corner. Luther in a shining black car, Benji had no energy to identify it, came to their rescue and ran out to help him.
âHow longâs he been out?âÂ
âNot long.â
Luther helped Benji get up then picked up Ethanâs feet from his loose grasp on him. He tutted under his breath.
They placed him on the back seat. Luther opened up the passenger door but he declined. He didnât want to leave Ethan, and besides, if they left him there to roll around, heâd just get hurt more.Â
Pulling away, Luther sped up what Benji knew was past the speed limit. Neither cared. For once, he was okay with the IMFâs scary amount of control. He didnât want to have to deal with a speeding ticket, not now.
As they turned the corner, Luther looked back at him.Â
âWeâve got time.â He said. âWe can save him.â
Benji only nodded. He had to believe him. Not out of any faith in their team and their affinity for luck, but because he didnât want to deal with the idea that heâd lost the love of his life in five, unexpected, minutes.
~~~
Â
Luther entered the room, "Coffee?"
Benji looked up from his spot next to Ethanâs bed. The adrenaline from anxiety had well worn off by now. He was becoming part of the chair but was wired enough not to be able to fall asleep.Â
"Thanks,"Â
It was a simple black coffee, shitty hospital quality, but tasted like heaven. Hot on the tongue, caffeine hitting him just right. It eased off the muddled soup of half formed thoughts that he couldnât grasp.
Ethan was still unconscious. The steady beating of the heart monitor kept the worst of the anxiety at bay. He was stable, not healthy, but alive.
"Has the doctor come back?" Luther asked.
Benji shook his head, "Hasn't come back since they took his bloods."
He placed his coffee on the side table and loosely grasped Ethan's hand. He was less sweaty now, swaddled in sterile blankets and warm in the comfortable conditions of the hospital.Â
There was a chance now that Ethan would live. The doctors had taken away various samples, especially of the mysterious coppery bile coming from his mouth. He was hooked up to a drip and looked more human again. The green tinge to his skin was gone, face was fuller. He was more Ethan.
"How are you doing?" Luther asked.
"As good as I can be, I guess," he replied. "Trying not to panic because there's not much I can do."
Luther took a long slurp of his coffee. Bags were setting in under his eyes. They'd been here for a few hours with no major results.Â
"Strange thing is," Benji said. "I'm almost used to waiting in hospitals."
Luther laughed. He'd known Ethan the longest and had plenty of stories of all the miraculous ways he'd gotten himself hurt.
"You don't have to tell me, I might as well have a medical degree with how many hours I've spent sitting next to his bedside."Â
They laughed together. Benji appreciated having company. Luther was a comforting presence with all of his experience. He knew how to relax, or at least appear calm, and was a good shoulder to cry on. Although that didn't mean he was immune to the stress of all this.
Benji turned back to Ethan. Nothing. For five hours now, nothing. Not even a twitch of the eyes or sharp exhale.Â
"Maybe we should go, get some sleep," Luther suggested. "I'll call Jane, she's in the area apparently and would be happy to sit with him."
Benji pondered for a moment. Ethan really didn't seem to be making much progress. And despite the voice in his head telling him he was a traitor for leaving, he'd done this enough times to know that he should look after himself, Ethan would definitely want him to.Â
"Alright."
He stretched up, felt his age in his bones, and drank the dregs of his coffee. Ethan was being looked after here, Benji wasn't. The idea of his bed was becoming very appealing. Leaning down, he lay a kiss on his hand, then his cheek.Â
"Night, Ethan," he whispered.
He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and nodded to Luther, who nodded back after texting Jane. They were halfway to the door when he heard a weak groan.
"Benji, Luther-" It was Ethan's voice, strained and tired. "Where you goin'?"
~~~
Ethan, now sat upright against his pillows, squinted against the soft hospital lighting. They'd almost dissolved into panic after he awoke. It had been such a change. Fully unconscious to awake in seconds. Ethan was nothing if not surprising.Â
The doctor had rushed to get his bloods sorted. Now he was awake, they needed even more to understand what it was that had affected him so strangely.
What had truly confused them all was that there were barely any traces of the poison left in his system. That's why he'd woken up.Â
Benji jolted up from where he was slumped on Ethan's shoulder. Luther was asleep on another chair, Ethan was blinking himself awake as he stared at the television, on a low volume for the other patients.
The doctor walked in with a gentle smile on his face. There were papers in his hands and bags under his eyes.
"Mr Hunt?" He said. "We have your samples back and have found some interesting results."
He shuffled up the bed and shook himself awake.Â
"Interesting?"
"Yes, we don't know the poison, and it was shown to draw out nutrients in the body for respiration and digestion of important molecules for respiration." He flicked a few pages. "But what we have found is what stopped the poison from having more harmful effects."
"What do you mean?" Benji asked, now feeling more awake.
"Well, poisons of this kind don't usually stop of their own accord,"
Confused, Benji asked, "So what did stop it?"
"This may sound strange but we found a chemical in your saliva, and traces in your blood, of a chemical commonly found in chewing gum,"
Benji froze. Did that mean, could it be, that his kiss had actually worked? Surely not. This was no fairytale. A kiss didn't save lives. Although it technically wasn't the kiss that saved Ethan, it was the gum.
"Were you chewing gum at any point last night?" The doctor asked.Â
Ethan shook his head then looked at Benji. Luther didn't know what was going on, Benji could tell by the look on his face.Â
"You were chewing gum, right Benji?"
He nodded. Blood rushed to his face. This was getting rather embarrassing.Â
"But how did the chemical get into my-" his eyes widened as he realised how he was saved. "You kissed me?"
"Yes," Benji mumbled. "Wanted to say goodbye."
Ethan chuckled, so did Luther. The doctor seemed to be fighting to keep some of his professional resolve.
"Not anything to do with sleeping beauty?"
Benji shook his head. It wasn't a total lie. He did want to say goodbye. But he also wasn't going to admit that for a moment he lived in a fairytale, and had a wild hope that a kiss could solve everything.
"Not at all?"
Benji glared at Ethan, but he doubted it had much effect with his tomato red face.Â
"Well, whatever it was, it saved his life," the doctor looked at Benji. "You should be proud."
He clasped Ethanâs hand again. If he was here, alive and healthy, that's all that matters, he didn't care how embarrassing his methods were.
"We'll keep you in for the rest of the night, just to make sure your condition doesn't get worse again, but after that you should be fine."
He left them in peace. Luther stretched himself awake and rubbed his eyes.
"I don't know about you but I'm beat," he said. "I'm going to go home and sleep on something made for sleeping in."
They laughed again. Now Ethan was awake, Benji was feeling reluctant to go home. But at the reminder of his bed, the fatigue that already had its clutches on him fully took control.Â
After waving Luther off, Ethan turned to Benji and smiled. He could tell he was tired too. They all were.
"Go home, Benji, I'll be fine."
He kissed his hand, "For once, I won't disagree with you."
Leaning down, he lay another kiss on his cheek. He tried to fight off flashbacks to earlier. Ethan wasnât on the street, he was happy and here. He'd be fine.
"I'll see you in the morning," he whispered, kissing him once more. "Get some rest, you."
Ethan gave him one last smile, stroked his cheek lazily, "Hopefully I won't need another true loveâs kiss to wake me, hey?"
"Shut up." His face flushed again and he pulled away.Â
Tonight had been a tricky, tiresome night. As much as he wanted Ethan to be home, or to stay with him all night, he had to rest. Although he did hope that Ethanâs sleep wouldn't be eternal.Â
I quite liked writing this, I just love Ethan getting hurt, okay? Hope you enjoyed this!
#benthan#benthanweek2022#benji dunn#ethan hunt#luther stickell#mission impossible#angst#hurt/comfort#poison#tw: poison#tw: hospital#hospital
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Lately there has been so much Danya rp going on (all in sandbox play that has been so much fun to do. I have a billion screenshots now lol) that I have way too much Danya brainrot. So here is Benji trying to talk Feelings to his niece and failing. (Not pictured at the end, Danya throwing her shoe and him)
âUncle. I need to get back to work. Can this unnecessary conversation wait until after this case is concluded? Or at least until after our guests have returned home?â Danya sighed as she glanced over the same paragraph in one of the multitude of case files spread across her desk. This was the tenth attempt at reading the same seven lines since Benji had wandered into her home office and started spewing his nonsense. Frankly her patience was beginning to wear thin.
âYou know we just want you to be happy Danny. The Family would never keep you from that, even if your happiness would take you away from us,â Benji sighed from his perch on the window seat in front of her. A growl rumbled deep in her chest, and she cleared her throat to dissuade it. Benji watched her, still as heâd ever been, dark eyes soft and unwavering.
âThere is nothing there. You know there isnât. My feelings are not returned and I have made peace with that,â Danya snapped, flicking to the next page of the file and sighing deeply. Her tail lashed at her side, thumping against the side of her chair with every swipe âI would appreciate it if you would leave this foolish thought alone. They areâŠmerely a warm and kind person. The attention they give me is not out of the ordinary for them. You know this as well as I do, and I will not allow myself to be swept up in this fantasy only to ruin one of the few friendships I have.â
âHave you talked to them then? Theyâve actually told you, to your face, in plain words that they arenât a little bit interested?â he asked quietly. His deep voice was even and warm and somehow the most grating thing Danya had heard in her life, and her growl rumbled back to life to settle low in her throat. If it was anyone other than Benji they would have left at the sound. He stayed. As always. Still and patient.
âI have enough evidence without risking an irrevocable change in our dynamic. I will not put it at risk for a relationship that would only put them in danger, especially since they are -for the most part- unaware of the true extent of the risks and the reasons behind it,â she said. Her tail continued to thump against the chair and she flicked it over her lap to hold it down still against her lap under her hand. It continued to twitch under her palm and she pressed down more firmly.
âSo if they return your feelings, tell them. Tell them about all of it. Do you really think theyâre the type of person who would stop being friends with you over this? That knowing-â
âI said no Uncle. Cease your meddling and leave me to work in peace. Please.â
âWhen I throw you in a closet and make you use your words youâre going to thank me.â
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