#file under: wants: benji

[knotfodder]

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-

[cheriladycl01]

Up late, building houses - Liam Lawson x Architect! Reader

Plot: You build you and you’re 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.

“So have you thought of adding a catio for Skylar?” He asks and you look up at him, a grin forming on your face.

“No, I was thinking of making a shed for both her and Benji” you say and he nods, thinking of a cute little animal shed for both of your pets you’d brought into the relationship and anymore pets you’d incur in the future.

“Mmmm, but wouldn’t you want a shed for a nice outside office for in the summer?” He hands run through your hair as he continues to quiz you.

“Well it would be, but we have no need for a catio when Skylar is perfectly okay going outside on her own. You know that Liam” you chide, your boyfriend had always been very protective off his cat.

“Mmmm, so no catio, what are you doing right now?” He asks, snuggling down into the bed a little bit more.

“Well 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!” You grin up at him. He shakes his head tucking yours into the crook of his neck before turning the lights out.

“Let’s go to sleep now” 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, you’re picking up all of the things you’ll need for the race weekend ahead.

As much as you loved Liam, you really didn’t 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 who’s looking after your current place and your pets while your away. You fill up both Skylar and Benji’s bowls, giving them lots of fuss before you wheel the last suitcase to the car.

“You’re still working while we go?” 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

Instagram Story Caption:

Lovely 🥰

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[rebeccasteventaylor]

Something I was thinking about Ethan hasn’t done a mission without Benji since GP (and that’ll be Ethan’s choice)

And then in RN he goes to London without Benji and gets caught up in an international conspiracy, disavowed and hunted for six months and manages to bring down the entire IMF

There is now a large note pinned to the front of Ethan’s file, in William Brandt’s handwriting, saying

‘Ethan Hunt is never NEVER to go anywhere without Benji Dunn. EVER.’

And under that, in Hunley’s neater handwriting is another note.

‘NEVER SEPARATE THEM AGAIN for all our sakes’

And underneath that is another note.

‘Understood and countersigned, President Sloane’

And underneath that is another note

‘The man needs to keep an eye on him. By the way, this works both ways. You don’t want to know what Benji Dunn will do if he’s separated from Ethan Hunt again. Signed, Luther Stickell (and I’ll help him too)’

[chu16a-blog]

Benji Dunn x Reader – That settles it

Pairing: Benji Dunn x Reader

Summary: During a high-stakes mission, rising tension between you and Benji pushes things past the breaking point. What starts as a fight ends in something neither of you expected and neither of you can ignore.

Warnings: I don't own anything

That settles it:

“You’re not thinking straight,” Benji snapped, stepping in front of the screen where you were pulling up the blueprints.

“No, you’re not thinking straight,” you fired back, jabbing a finger toward the intel spread out on the table. “The only shot we have is going through the underground utility tunnels. If we wait for extraction points or try to reroute—”

“It’s suicide!” he cut in, voice rising. “You want to sneak through a tunnel crawling with heat sensors and pressure plates just because you think it’s faster?”

“I know it’s faster. And if you’d stop trying to control everything, you’d see that too!”

Benji stared at you, jaw tight. “This isn’t about control. It’s about not watching you get blown to pieces just because you don’t want to admit I might be right!”

You stepped closer. “You aren’t right. You’re scared. And instead of trusting me, you’re trying to wrap the whole op around your paranoia!”

That struck a nerve.

Benji’s expression darkened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Don’t you dare turn this into something personal.”

“Oh, it’s always personal with you. You pretend you’re just ���the tech guy,’ but you want to call every shot when things get messy!”

“Because I care if you come back!” he shouted.

Without another word, you surged forward and grabbed him by the collar, slamming your mouth against his.

It was harsh, angry, messy. His hands flew up in shock, then grabbed your waist and yanked you closer as he kissed back just as hard. The argument didn’t end; it just changed form. His lips moved with the same frustration that had fueled his shouting. You barely registered your back hitting the wall before his hands pinned you there, his mouth devouring yours like he needed to prove something.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, biting his lip slightly, and he growled into the kiss. Heat pooled between you. Clothes creaked under gripping hands. The tension had broken like a dam, passion crashing over both of you in waves.

There was no thought, just heat, anger, and whatever this thing between you was, finally combusting.

“Ahem. Uhm… uhm?”

You both stilled, lips still barely touching. Breathing heavily.

Luther stood in the doorway, holding a mug and a raised brow like he’d been there for way too long.

No one moved.

Eventually, Benji stepped back slowly, breath shaky, glancing down at you, his eyes wide but not regretful. He looked away, ran a hand through his hair, trying to collect himself.

“Right,” he muttered, voice hoarse. He paused, exhaled, then looked back at you with something softer beneath the tension.

“…That settles it. We’re going through the tunnels.”

You nodded once, your pulse still pounding, heart echoing in your ears.

Luther turned away muttering, “Finally,” as he walked off, shaking his head.

You and Benji didn’t say anything else. But something had changed. You both felt it. The mission wasn’t the only thing that had just crossed a point of no return.

---

You didn’t speak on the way to the site.

Benji sat beside you in the back of the surveillance van, fingers flying across the keyboard as he hacked into the security feeds. You checked your gear without a word, your eyes never straying from the mission file open in front of you.

But the air between you was radioactive.

Not just tension. Not just the kiss. But the fact that nothing had been said about it since.

The comms crackled. Luther’s voice came through: “Entry point’s clear. You’re up.”

You slid your earpiece in and stood. Benji’s hand brushed your arm as he handed you the RFID scrambler just a second too long, just a second too late. Your fingers touched. You didn’t look at him.

You dropped into the tunnel without hesitation.

The tunnels were narrow and damp, every footstep echoing in silence. You moved like a shadow, comms open.

“Two guards posted near the vault access door,” Benji’s voice came through, steady, professional. “Infrared beams cycling every 3.4 seconds. You’ll want to cross on the second pulse.”

You crouched in the dark, pressed against cold concrete, heart still hammering—but not from nerves.

“Copy,” you whispered. “Anything else I should know?”

There was a pause. Just a beat too long.

Then: “Yeah. Don’t die in there.”

You almost smiled. Almost.

The vault room was high security, motion-trapped, no alarms but instant lockout if you triggered it. You followed Benji’s voice through every step left turn, step, wait, now.

It was like music, the way the two of you worked. No second guesses. No hesitation. You trusted him. He trusted you, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

You got the package, slid it into your vest, and exfiltrated through the same tunnels.

“Extraction team is two blocks out,” Luther said in your ear. “Meet point Bravo in five.”

Benji opened the back of the van just as you reached the alley. His eyes scanned you quickly for injuries, face unreadable.

You handed him the case.

He took it, nodded, then said nothing.

You moved past him. Sat down. Pulled off your gloves, heart still punching against your ribs.

The van ride back to the safehouse was quiet, but not like before.

There was still a weight in the air but not sharp. Not angry. Just… heavy. Full.

Benji hadn’t looked at you much since the kiss. But he hadn’t looked away either.

Now, alone in the safehouse’s tiny kitchen, you stood with your hands wrapped around a mug of something too bitter to be comforting. Still wearing your tac gear. Still too wired to sleep.

Benji stepped in, quiet.

He stopped just a few feet from you, like he wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to get.

You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

You turned fully toward him. “You gonna pretend that didn’t happen?”

His eyes dropped for a second, then rose again, steady. “No.”

Another pause.

“I was angry,” you said.

“I was worse.”

You looked at each other. No heat now. No sparks or shouting. Just two people standing in the slow quiet after the storm.

“I don’t regret it,” you said, simple. Clear.

Benji stepped closer. “Me neither.”

He reached for your hand, tentative. You let him take it.

No rush. No more fighting.

Just his fingers lacing with yours, the space between you finally still.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, voice low. “You and me.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him, really looked at him.

The lines of tension still hadn’t fully left his face, like he wasn’t sure if this was still a fight or if it had shifted into something else entirely.

So you answered him without words.

You stepped in. Just one step. Close enough to close the gap, close enough that he’d have to say something if he didn’t want this.

He didn’t say a thing.

You leaned in and kissed him again. This time slow, steady, no adrenaline behind it. Just everything else you hadn’t said.

Benji let out the faintest breath against your lips before kissing you back, hands coming to your waist like it was instinct. Like he’d been holding that in longer than either of you wanted to admit.

It was warm. Real. Nothing like before, but somehow more.

When you finally pulled back, he didn’t go far. Just rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing slow now.

“Okay,” he whispered, voice barely there. “Now I believe you.”

You huffed a soft laugh, eyes still closed. “About the tunnels?”

He smiled against your skin.

“About everything.”

[rose-tinted-vision]

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 hadn’t 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 ‘upholding the law’ that he was not proud of--- only that they had once stood on opposing sides, and they really shouldn’t have trusted him as easily as they did.)

---

“Anyone up to arm wrestle? I’m bored out of my mind.” Degas says to the room at large.

Retrieving some corrupt official’s files really didn’t 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 Paris’s skills before officially initiating her into the IMF.

(Neither did Degas need to be here, actually. Paris could’ve probably pulled it off by herself, but he’d volunteered anyway, still high off the thrill of their last mission with the Entity.)

“I’m rubbish at arm wrestling,” Benji snorts, “why not poker instead?”

“Because I’m rubbish at poker, and you’ve beaten me at every game so far.”

“Only because you can’t lie with a straight face--- we need to work on that, really.” Benji points out, finally tearing his eyes off the laptop screen.

“Arm wrestling?” 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.

“Yeah! Arm wrestling is--- well, you can just watch Benji and I.”

Benji mutters something incomprehensible under his breath before rolling up his sleeves with a sigh. “So we are doing this, then.”

---

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 should’ve been his first sign to not underestimate Benji Dunn.

“Again,” 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 he’d 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.

“Is this supposed to be fun?” Paris asks, looking between the two of them in confusion.

“Not usually,” Benji shrugs. “But I suppose it’s fun if you’re winning.”

“Who do you usually wrestle against?” Degas asks, slightly horrified by the idea of someone beating Benji so consistently that he’d been convinced he was rubbish at arm wrestling.

“Ethan.”

Degas gapes, slamming his head against the table in exasperation.

Of course.

[midnightannalore]

While I was working on In the Shadows, I thought a lot about Ethan's history, especially as concerns his relationship with men, since there isn't a canon character that fills that role in the story.

I ended up cutting a couple discussions of Ethan's history because they never really seemed to fit. For Under the Sun, I wrote an entire section of Ethan telling Benji a story about the first guy he was interested in, but that also ended up not fitting -- it got far too long and involved.

This also some backstory I imagined for my post-Fallout fic and never included there.

“When I was in college—“ Ethan starts, then stops, like he’s said something that isn’t quite right, but had said it without thinking about it.

“Where did you go to college, actually?  I’ve seen at least three different versions in your file.”

“I didn’t.  Actually.  There wasn’t any money for it and I was never that good of a student.”

Benji frowns at him.  “You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

Ethan huffs out something like a laugh.  “I was a dream recruit for the special forces.  High intelligence, low achievement.”

“Terrible time following orders.”

“Not back then.  Back then I just wanted to be good.”

“Ethan.”  Ethan shakes his head.  “You are good, Ethan.”

“I was telling you a story.  Do you want to hear it?”

“Come on.  Come here and tell me a story.”

After a few minutes, Ethan speaks.  “I didn’t go to college.  But later, when I was in the army, the CIA borrowed me for an operation.  I always looked young and I had the skills they needed.  They had me enrolled as a transfer student. He was—“

“Was he your mark?” he asks in a rush.  He’s not sure he wants to hear this story if he was.

“No,” Ethan says quickly.  “No, the operation was— something else entirely.  But I had to take classes, do all the normal things.”

Benji hums in acknowledgement.  They both relax.

“He was a grad student, a TA in my theater class.  We were the same age, 24, but he thought I was a 20 year old sophomore.  He thought I was an innocent farm boy from Indiana studying drama.”

“You did grow up on a farm, though, right?”

“I did.  But I’d been in the army for nearly five years by then.  I’d been in the Gulf.  I couldn’t tell him any of that.  I don’t know, it wasn’t— love, not really.  I just…”

“You saw a life that you wanted.”

“Yeah.  I’d never even thought about it before, you know?  I was recruited by the army because I had skills they needed.  I was told I was good at it.  I was good at it.  Anything they had me learn, I could do it.  And then I was in college studying civil engineering and theater and hanging out with a guy I really liked, who liked me.”

“What happened?”

“The operation ended just before spring break.  I was gone the next day.  I never saw him again.”

“What happened with him, Ethan,” he asks softly.

Also maybe I wanted Ethan to be kneeling for part of this.

[tealsage7]

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 couldn’t blame him.

The Russian man kept throwing questions at Ethan, his confusion thick in the air.

"I don’t 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 we’re 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 didn’t 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! Can’t 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 wasn’t a rescue mission?" Jane asked, confused.

Ethan's tone grew serious. "Let’s 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. "Where’s Hanaway?"

The van went silent. Benji looked up into the rearview mirror, his expression grim.

Jane recounted everything—from 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 Jane’s voice was unmistakable.

When she finished, she handed Ethan a phone with a photo on it.

"You know her?"

Ethan stared at the image. "That’s Sabine Moreau. Contract killer. Works for diamonds. What was in the file?"

"Russian nuclear launch codes," Jane answered, her tone clipped.

"IMF’s been tracking an emerging extremist. Codename: Cobalt. He’s determined to detonate a nuclear weapon however he can. We know Moreau’s worked for him before," Ethan said.

I exhaled sharply. "So now that she has the launch codes, Cobalt’s 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.

"We’re 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.

"I’ve only been driving for an hour!" Benji protested.

"You drove all night to the prison. Fair's fair. I have a feeling we’ll 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 he’d 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 couldn’t say a word.

I glanced over and rested my chin on Benji's shoulder. He stiffened in surprise but relaxed.

"Where do you think they’ll 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 van’s open door.

"We’re going into the Kremlin."

Benji laughed nervously. "Ha, I thought you said the Kremlin."

Ethan hopped into the back.

I pulled my chin off Benji’s 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.

[writings-of-a-demigod]

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 you’re 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, that’s 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 Nath’s private gallery and the party was your way in. You’ve done jobs like that a thousand of times, so it was an easy one; go in disable the system making it think it’s 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 didn’t plan was to get caught.

“Who’s that?” asked Benji using the comms.

“I don’t know but I intend to find out.” Ethan glance at you when you first entered the party. Didn’t 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 “Who are you?” he asked.

“You think I’m going tell you that?” you raised your eyebrow.

He sighed “I guess not.”

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 ‘Who is this guy?” until you saw your opening when you got to handcuff him to the door handler. He didn’t realize until he heard it and looked down to see the handcuff. He then looked at you with raised eyebrow “Seriously?” you just shrugged “It’s working just fine right now.” You turned around got the painting, made it to your exit at the widow then faced him again seeing how he’s trying to unlock to handcuff “Hope to never see you again” 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 Benji’s desk, Benji’s eyes glued to the screen Luther standing behind him leaning on his chair while Ethan was pacing the floor.

“Oh my!” Benji’s voice broke the silence, Ethan turns around to face the two of them reading everything they can find about you.

“Ethan are you sure you want this person to join the IMF? Because wow!” Benji spoke first.

“Let’s me see” Ethan went to stand next to Luther to get a look at the screen.

“Yep, that’s them” 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.

“That’s a long list.” Spoke Luther after reading the files they have on you. “Looks like they really left an impression on you if you’re thinking of recruiting them.”

“But are you seriously still thinking about it?” Benji took his eyes off the screen to stare at Ethan.

“Yes Benji. I want them on this team.”

“And how are you supposed to get them to meet with you? And how are you going to trust them or then trusting us?” Benji was seriously questioning his friend decision on this. And he had all the rights to do that, you being on the team when you’ve 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?

“And how are you planning to do that?” Luther straightens up and turn to get a better look at Ethan.

He smiled at him “Easy one of you is going to pretend to be a client that needs a job to be done.”

Benji rolled his eyes “Of course it’s that easy. Like they’re not going to check the background of the client.”

“So which one of us do you want to be the client?” 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 don’t 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 wouldn’t 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.

“Good evening are you Y/n?” 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.

“You got that right. What can I do for you mister Smith?” you showed him a smile to ease him. He looked a little nervous.

“Well I’ve contacted you for a job and apparently you’re the one to go to for that.” He nodded at you.

“I take full price before the job is done and an extra after especially if it coasted me trouble.” You told him.

“I bet you do.” He chuckled a little “But I’m not the one who wants to hire you.” 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 Nath’s 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.

“So 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?” You asked.

“Not really. I’m not here to arrest you.” He took small steps towards you with his hands raised “And I’m not a cop or a fed either. My name is Ethan Hunt and I want to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime.”

You raised your eyebrow at him ‘so he’s not a cop. What does he want anyway?’ you nodded at him “Well go on.”

“I read your files, consider me impressed and you are exactly what I need on my team.” He told you.

“You’re kidding right?”

The man behind you spoke “No he’s not.” You turned your head to look at him “He’s really impressed with you and what you do.” He smiled at you.

After listening to Ethan’s offer you took a moment to process what he’s saying to you. It was a lot to take it but you would be lying if that didn’t excited you. This opportunity was gold, so what if you’re doing it to save the world and you could die a horrible death and no one would know what you did. That wasn’t 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.

“I accept.” You said it while looking at him “But I got to warn you I’m not very good at teamwork.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He smiled and offered his hand to shake yours. After you shook on it, he said “Welcome to the team.”

“I’m Luther.” 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 “Benji” he said.

“Why do you look sad dude? I’m joining the team.” You smiled at him while walking with him.

Ethan and Luther were walking in front of you two “He had second thoughts about you joining us.” They laughed.

You turned to Benji “Don’t worry I’m not going to rob you while you’re sleeping.”

He turned his head so fast to look at you “You’re thinking about doing that?” he said in a panicked voice.

But you just laughed.

[callmearcturus]

writer questions meme: 8, 13, 20 if you please

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve 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 you’ve written and explain why you’re 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 just…" 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.

Bell— Ethan— 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.

[palmviewfm]

can we get some more most wanted counter parts?

you   absolutely   can   get   some   more   !   here's   some   other   ones   you   can   use   for   inspo   ! let us know if more are needed ! you can find them under the cut since it got a little longer !

counterparts:   belly   conklin,   conrad   fisher,   taylor   jewel,   and   steven   conklin   from   the   summer   i   turned   pretty,   bella   swan,   rosalie   hale,   alice   cullen,   edward   cullen,   emmett   cullen,   leah   clearwater,   jessica   stanley,   angela   weber,   paul   uley   and   jane   volturi   from   twilight.   allison   reynolds,   claire   standish,   john   bender,   brian   johnson,   and   andrew   clark   from   the   breakfast   club,   cher   horowitz,   tai   frasier,   and   dionne   davenport   from   clueless.   frances   houseman   and   johnny   castle   from   dirty dancing,   sidney   prescott,   tatum   riley,   gale   weathers,   dewey   riley,   and   casey   becker   from   scream.   georgia   miller   from   ginny   and   georgia.   heather   mcnamara,   heather   chandler,   heather   duke,   and   veronica   sawyer   from   heathers.   danny   desario,   kim   kelly,   sam   weir,   and   lindsay   weir   from   freaks   and   geeks.   becky   katsopolis,   jesse   katsopolis,   joey   gladstone,   dj   tanner   and   stephanie   tanner   from   full   house.   buffy   summers,   anya   jenkins,   tara   maclay,   willow   rosenberg,   xander   harris,   faith   lehane   and   dawn   summers   from   buffy   the   vampire   slayer.   dana   scully   and   scott   mulder   from   the   x   files.   sabrina   spellman,   harvey   kinkle,   hilda   spellman,   zelda   spellman,   and   libby   chessler   from   sabrina   the   teenage   witch.   brenda   walsh,   brandon   walsh,   kelly   taylor,   donna   martin,   and   andrea   zuckerman   from   bh90210.  fran fine from the nanny. shelly   johnson   and   laura   palmer   from   twin   peaks. jj maybank, sarah cameron, and kiara carerra, pope heyward from outerbanks. eli goldsworthy, clare edwards, darcy edwards, sean cameron, emma nelson, manny santos, jimmy brooks, jonah haak, alli bhandari, kc guthrie, tiny bell, zoe rivas, esme song, rasha zuabi, bianca desousa, zig novak and jenna middleton from degrassi. amy jurgens, ricky underwood, grace bowman, and adrian lee from tslotat. grace le domas from ready or not. sam winchester, dean winchester and jo harvelle from supernatural. beca mitchell, chloe beale, cynthia rose, aubrey posen, stacey conrad, jesse swanson and benji from pitch perfect.

[unknownjpegs]

lights

Benji has read Tanaka’s file cover-to-cover. Has, at this point, read the entire extraction unit’s files. Been a recently inspired bit of study, that. Prior records, applicable military histories, reprimand log. All meat for him to chew through. Sinew to work until it was soft enough to swallow.

And swallow he had. The tastiest part of the meal had been those psych evals. Reading them had made him drool, sitting in the infirmary. Made his fingers twitch as they flicked through the pages. 

Twitch because it felt like he was worming them through brains. And he was, in a way, thumb swiping back and forth along an edge until it sawed in a stinging prick and seeped into the paper like spilled ink.

He’d got possession of those copies by railing one of the intelligence officers, of course: hand wound gently about a neck, tearing ten identical red streaks down a flexing back.

Need a favor, he’d purred afterwards. Bit of reciprocation, yeah? 

S-sure, the guy whispered back, as if the reciprocation hasn’t already happened. As if anything else out of his mouth, perhaps a denial, had been considered and flung aside in terror. 

Wise choice. Called intelligence officers for a reason.

Benji had wondered if his reddened shoulders had stung, how he’d pressed into the wall like that. Maybe the cold concrete was a good enough respite from the bite of pain.

Some of them enjoyed worse — Benji, too. But this one had been particularly keen to have him lay in with bruising fingers and soft, needy praise. Lots of insect-bite pricks of illusionary kindness. Followed, naturally, by an embarrassed request for a demeaning word. He could deliver — always did. Always enjoyed making someone feel as if they’d been fulfilled in some manner. 

Fulfillment wasn’t why he slipped into Tanaka’s room late one evening. He made extra sure to be quiet, to be as silent as he possibly could. But of course, it was Tanaka. This is what he was known for.  Expectedly, he heard Benji enter. The soft shhh of the door closing. 

And, expectedly, he’d launched himself across the room.

Benji is pinned to the door. Allows himself to be pinned to the door. It’ll help the other man feel safer, if only a little bit. 

Has a feeling that sense of security shivers off when the lights flick on, and they’re standing face-to-face. His eyes adjust, find Tanaka’s, and with their connected gazes the corners of his mouth lift slightly.

Tanaka looks absolutely fucking terrified. His gaze is paranoid and and cornered and wild, darting around Benji’s face. Very pretty on him, fear. 

“A’right, Lark?” He greets cheerfully, words coming out in a rasp thanks to the forearm pressing against his throat.

He lifts a hand and skates his fingers over the skin. Watches the hair raise and the goosebumps blossom and watches it twitch, like Tanaka would like very much to pull away. Except if he pulls away, then Benji is freed, and isn’t that the last thing he wants? 

He dances a finger over the flexing ridge, from the base of his wrist in a twisting, slow spiral towards the elbow. Ulna. Lips wetted by his tongue. Such a delicate bone. Snappable, with the right sort of grip.

Benji’s got the right sort of grip.

Bones are smooth, under all that flesh. Strangely warm, in a way most people wouldn’t expect. Heated from the wet cocoon of the body. And heavier —  with marrow. Benji knows all this, but it isn’t the sort of knowledge you get reading injury reports or textbooks.

It’s intimate knowledge. 

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Tanaka hisses. It comes out more like whiny air from a balloon than a snake. But he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have fangs, this one.

There’s a knife pressed to his stomach. Switchblade. Not like the heavy duty ones some of the Shadows carry, or the big mean machetes other soldiers strap to their chests. 

Benji glances down at it. Little low, to sink into something that’ll put him on the ground right away. He wraps the hand not resting against a forearm around a fragile (breakable) wrist, and adjusts the angle of the knife. 

When the tip of it glides up his shirt, scratching skin beneath, it fits right over Benji’s heart.

“There we are. Make sure you push hard enough, mate.” He pats the back of Tanaka’s hand and lets his own drop. “Still a muscle, still kinda tough.” He tilts his head. “Takes a bit of pressure, y’know?”

The weapon slips a little in Tanaka’s grasp. A steady flicker of emotions on his face: determination, repulsion, fear. He wants to do exactly as suggested — sink the knife in. Kill another operator. And recognizing that of himself, that he wants to, disgusts him more than Benji. Horrifies him. 

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” Tanaka breathes. Pinched brow, curled lip. And yet still bravely holding 

Benji glances up at the ceiling, notes the texture. “Long list, mate. Want the abridged version, or have we got time?” 

“No.” Tanaka shakes his head. There’s sweat beading at his temple. He readjusts his grip on the blade’s handle. Benji could knock it away, then, take control of the situation with that wavering clutch. Doesn’t, of course — no fun.  “Shit, never mind. Just…why are you here?” 

“To feed on you in your sleep, obviously.” He bats his eyes. “Eat your dreams, or whatever.” 

Now the other man’s fear levels with exhaustion. Tired of his shit in a way that nearly overrides it. “Man —”

“A’right, fine.” He holds up his hands. “M’here to ask a favor.” 

Tanaka’s steady, nervous gaze narrows into a hard glare. “You seem like the kinda freak I really don’t want indebted to me.” 

“Right, well, no debt necessary. It’d be reciprocal—“ he looks down the meager space between their bodies, tongue poking at his cheek. Tanaka shudders; all repulsion, no arousal. “Ah, poor. Guess it’s debt then, mate.” 

“I’m not your mate,” Tanaka hisses. Some of that steadfastness seeps back in. The arm at his neck presses a bit harder, the tip of the dagger stings his chest. Both make his mouth part, sigh dropping out. “What’s the favor, so you can slink the fuck outta here like the gross little snake you are?” 

Benji sucks his teeth and pouts. He respects Tanaka for the bravery of an insult, even if he’s terrified. “Ouch.”

No response. He sighs.

“Fine. I need your eyes.” 

Lets that sit there, dramatic and ominous, for so long a moment that Tanaka’s face twists a bit. Debating if he’s serious. 

Benji laughs and shakes his head. “Relax! Wasn’t done, fuckin’ hell. The people around here — mental the lot of you, I swear.” Tilted chin, eyes bright beneath lids. “You need help, private. Psychological.”

“Eyes on what.”

Benji’s smirk is particularly chilling, all the mischief and tease ebbed out of his regard. His dark eyes gone cold and eerily flat.

“The sergeant.” 

* 

Fortunately, Tanaka is good at what he does. And, unfortunately, the sergeant keeps a tight, rigid schedule. One that is easy for the private to track, since Benji’s not got the time for that.

He watches for a week. He hasn’t spent much time thinking about the sergeant, because he’s boring. His manipulation the tactless, timeless sort. Digs deep, the hurt he inflicts, but still so… surface level besides. It’s easy an easy way to hurt — anybody could do it. And so, so many men with power do. Not even the brains to get creative about it.

It’s more fun when it’s creative. Even better when people are willing. When they choose to skate the soles of their feet across coals or lie pin-cushioned on a bed of needles or offer their throat to the knife. 

Anyway, he watches. The habits, the rituals, the — numerous, numerous bed warmers. Corporal Wolffe is among them, and the prickle of distaste he’s got at that isn’t anything like jealousy. It’s anger. 

Because the thing is, people have got a light behind the eyes. All living creatures. Sometimes it’s fun to watch that fade away. Sometimes it’s not. Like how it’s always sad, a fucking tragedy, to see a big cat taken down by some poacher. Pissers who hide behind weapons when really they’d lose to one swipe of a paw. Or gnash of teeth.

Wolffe’s got teeth. Benji has seen them. Wants to watch them get used proper. Drip with the blood of a poacher. Because —

When Tillman’s done with his playthings, the light flickers out more and more. What he doesn’t seem to grasp, but what Benji has cradled so possessively in his own hands, is how blinding and incredible that light can become, instead of weak. A feral, awfully focused beam when people are really, truly alive. 

Benji is real good at getting somebody exposed, slipping his fingers into them, and finding the dial controlling that beam. Turning it up. Focusing them. Such a concentrated sort of light that it makes people shiver apart, sometimes. But there’s sweetness in that sort of end. 

There’s nothing sweet or focused or right about the listless looks of the people that Tillman burns through. And that’s what he does — burns through them like wicks. Doesn’t even let the flame crawl high. Eats it up for himself. Selfish. 

And he still looks so fucking empty, doesn’t he? Not even the audacity to be fucking heinous, with that stolen power. He’s dull. Boring.

Unaware.

Such a trained soldier, and yet he doesn’t even notice Benji slip behind him. Creep around the corner, the hall darkened by time-lights flicking off. End of the night.

Benji waits in the doorway for him to gather things from his office. Papers, a knife into his pocket, his ill-fitting jacket. 

Snake in the tall grass, Benji thinks. Tanaka more correct that he knew. 

When Tillman turns to leave, he freezes.

Benji blocks his path. Not nearly filling the frame. He’s smaller, but wider. Tillman can’t get around him. Looks…hesitant. Like maybe he knows not to try. 

“The fuck’s wrong with you, Palanivel? You insane? Get out of my way.”

Benji stands still. Benji smiles. Big, wide eyes. Pretty eyes. Blinks them, just once, and glances them down over Tillman’s body and back up. Slow, purposeful drag. Spark of light in the darkness of the office.

“Sorry, sir,” Benji purrs and moves smoothly to the side, arms still clasped behind his back.

He wonders if beady blue eyes kept looking away because Benji wasn’t.

I can see your muscle underneath that thin, leathery skin, Sergeant. You’re starting to wrinkle. That means it’s thin — might tear like paper. I’m going to fold you up like an airplane. Toss you in a fucking fan.

Benji strides away, still smiling. On the walk back to his own quarters, he thinks of bears and flayed faces and someone trying desperately to hold it all together. 

He doesn’t wank incredibly often. Got an array of bodies to choose from, if he wants to get base. But that night, he flashes his teeth and pants and drops his head back on his shoulders, chin to the ceiling. He imagines the light in Tillman’s eyes flicked out. Imagines watching Wolffe’s pale, bloodied knuckles tighten around that tan neck.

[knotfodder]

-

[esfordays]

I’m taking abyss’s 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. MC’s eyes widened as he read the cover, labelled ‘Benjamin Whitting’. 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 Ben’s ID that took up the entire page.

“Why was this included?” 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, I’ll paste and post it if anyone wants to help me figure out wtf I’m doing lol

[rebeccasteventaylor]

I love this picture of Benji’s little workspace on the tunnels because we couldn’t see it clearly in the movies and look it…

Not digital at all. Mounds and mounds of paper.

There’s even a one fashioned field telephone in there!

And -and and - pre digital equipment! Great big clunky things with knobs and switches. I’ve used some of that stuff and it’s not easy. For Benji to know to use it is just incredible. And all those files everywhere - it’s like an insight into Benji’s mind.

And just - Benji is used to a laptop doing everything in that room. The fact that he can’t use a laptop so goes full analogue and STILL manages to do everything is such a marker of how clever he is, how his mind works. The tech is brilliant and he likes to use it, but Benji can go fully off grid and analogue if he needs to and still get the job done.

ALSO - location info - my guess is these are the old WWII/Cold War tunnels under London. Used as a base when London was burning and prepared as a base in case of nuclear attack.

So when they needed a hiding place, someone thought of the old WWII under London and opened them up again - all pre-digital, all heavily shielded, all forgotten.

(If you want to check out the kind of space I mean, the Post Office museum tunnels and the War Rooms are the kind of places I’m talking about)

[chu16a-blog]

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 ‘don’t eat the wrong sandwich’ dangerous?”

Luther gave him a look. Ethan stayed silent, still scanning the folder.

The agent didn’t blink. “She’s killed before.”

Benji looked surprised, but not entirely convinced. “And yet you want us to bring her in alive?”

"Yes," the agent said flatly. "Just follow the mission."

Ethan’s 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.

You’d been out of the CIA for less than forty-eight hours. Not that they’d called it an “exit.” People like you didn’t 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 set—schematics, 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.

You’d 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 CIA’s favorite wildcard cleanup crew.

You didn’t 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.

"I’ve 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 froze—like 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 didn’t move. Couldn’t.

There was no fear in your stance—but there wasn’t comfort either. He didn’t know what to expect.

His breath hitched, chest rising as though bracing for a bullet.

“…Hi,” 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? No—dangerous. She's dangerous.

But her voice… it echoed in his head, light and smooth and unexpectedly warm. And those eyes—serious, focused—but 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? That’s not protocol. That’s… 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.

“Benji?” Ethan’s voice crackled through the comm, sharp with urgency. “What’s going on?”

Benji huffed, sprinting. “I—I think I’m chasing her? She said hi—and then she ran—and now I’m running!”

There was a pause.

“You think you’re chasing her?” Ethan replied.

Benji wheezed. “Well, she’s very fast and very armed, and I’m just trying to keep up without dying!”

Luther cut in dryly, "Be careful. She’s 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 guy’s… 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. He’s the enemy.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

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 they’d already ran five miles in almost half an hour, Benji couldn’t 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 couldn’t 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. 

“You alright?” He asked. 

Ethan gulped hard, made it look painful, “I’m fine.”

Benji pulled the file out from under his shirt and settled back against the wall.

“No offense, but you don’t look fine.”

He gulped again and let out a groan. 

“I’m getting old, that’s all,” he said. “Can’t run a six minute mile and be fine afterwards, I’m not twenty anymore.”

Benji laughed, “Really? You still look it.”

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. 

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. 

Pulling it out, he turned to Ethan, “Gum?”

He shook his head as Benji placed a stick in his mouth. The shocking mint hit him as he watched the traffic go by. They’d stopped outside a florist. The night was thick and the scent of flowers mixed with the sparking atmosphere of the night. 

In the city, he couldn’t 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 didn’t 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 wasn’t 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. He’d 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 wasn’t 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. 

He turned back to Ethan. His stomach dropped.

The sweat on Ethan’s 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.

“Ethan!” Benji exclaimed. “What happened? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He slumped onto Benji shoulder. His hair was sticky and wet but he didn’t care.

“Didn’t want you to worry, it’s nothing.”

His voice was quiet, soft and grumbly. Benji shook him, gently slapped his face as he started to grow heavier on his shoulder.

“Think I might’ve been poisoned, though,”

“Poisoned? How?”

Ethan blinked slowly and lay heavier onto Benji’s shoulder. This was starting to concern him. Poison wasn’t something you could just sleep off. If he was losing consciousness, then that could only mean he was close to the end.

“‘Member when I fought those guards, around where we got the file?”

Benji nodded. He had to remind himself to breathe. Him panicking wouldn’t fix this.

“Turns out that taser the guard had, wasn’t a taser,”

“Fuck.” 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. 

“Ethan, stay with me,” Benji said. “I’m going to call Luther, tell him to hurry the fuck up.”

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 didn’t seem real. 

Ethan always got out of these situations, he always got up and Benji would give a sigh of relief. He wasn’t 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 they’d faced. Not someone they didn’t even know the name of. It was almost an insult. Ethan Hunt, the great IMF agent, brought down by a simple biological hack.

“What is it?” Luther said through the phone.

“It’s Ethan, he was hit with some kind of poison, he’s almost lost consciousness but I’m trying to keep him awake.” Benji blurted, panic was getting the better of him.

“Okay, I’ll speed it up.” Luther said. “You still outside the florists?”

“Yeah,” 

“Alright, I’ll be there, hold on.”

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 didn’t smell bad enough to be vomit.

“Ethan, did you hear that, hey?”

He picked up his hand and squeezed it. It was getting cold, and clammy. Not a good sign.

“Luther’s on his way, you’ve just got to hold a bit longer, you can do that,”

Ethan raised his eyebrows, stretching his eyelids as he tried to open them. Once he finally did, his eyes were red like he’d been crying, pupils were dilated and tears were welling up, falling onto his cheeks. 

“Benji,” he spluttered. “Love you.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I know what that means, Ethan, stay with me!”

Ethan’s 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. 

Benji ripped off his jacket and lay it on his trembling form, “You can tell me you love me when we get to the hospital, yeah? We’re not far from it, I remember the sirens going past as we ran, you’ll be okay, yeah?”

He wasn’t sure if he was saying it to himself or Ethan at this point. Ethan was barely paying attention. His head lolled about on Benji’s lap as he rocked. Benji combed through his sweat drenched hair, he didn’t care if his hand was a sticky mess, he needed Ethan to be okay. 

“Come on, you’ve got to stick with me, we’ve got to finish the Star Trek movies, we’ve got to watch Search for Spock, we’ve got to see how the crew recover from Spock’s death, come on!”

In hindsight, that probably wasn’t a good time to mention Star Trek. They’d 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 hadn’t been okay with him dying. So probably not the best time to mention death, when he was dying in his arms.

“Ethan, please,” 

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.

“Benji.” He looked him directly in the eye now. “I love you.”

Benji’s mouth faltered. The words didn’t come at first but he had to force them to come.

“I love you, too.”

Ethan went limp. His eyes fell shut.

Benji’s 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. 

His body worked on autopilot. Hands reached to Ethan’s 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 he’d still be too late, that now that Ethan was unconscious, he may never wake up, filled him. 

Because this was no fairytale. Ethan wasn’t 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 love’s kiss wouldn’t 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. 

Still moving his thumb in circles, he lent down slowly and lay a gentle kiss on Ethan’s 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 didn’t 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 didn’t move. His breaths grew fainter. There was no expression on his face. Not peace. Not frustration. Just empty, growing emptier. 

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.

“How long’s he been out?” 

“Not long.”

Luther helped Benji get up then picked up Ethan’s 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 didn’t want to leave Ethan, and besides, if they left him there to roll around, he’d just get hurt more. 

Pulling away, Luther sped up what Benji knew was past the speed limit. Neither cared. For once, he was okay with the IMF’s scary amount of control. He didn’t want to have to deal with a speeding ticket, not now.

As they turned the corner, Luther looked back at him. 

“We’ve got time.” He said. “We can save him.”

Benji only nodded. He had to believe him. Not out of any faith in their team and their affinity for luck, but because he didn’t want to deal with the idea that he’d lost the love of his life in five, unexpected, minutes.

~~~

 

Luther entered the room, "Coffee?"

Benji looked up from his spot next to Ethan’s 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. 

"Thanks," 

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 couldn’t 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. 

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. 

"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." 

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. 

"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. 

"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. 

"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. 

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. 

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. 

"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. 

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. 

"You were chewing gum, right Benji?"

He nodded. Blood rushed to his face. This was getting rather embarrassing. 

"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. 

"Well, whatever it was, it saved his life," the doctor looked at Benji. "You should be proud."

He clasped Ethan’s 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. 

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 wasn’t 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 love’s kiss to wake me, hey?"

"Shut up." His face flushed again and he pulled away. 

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 Ethan’s sleep wouldn't be eternal. 

I quite liked writing this, I just love Ethan getting hurt, okay? Hope you enjoyed this!