#arthur/eames fic

[dareduffie]

arthureames university au.

they live in dorms. they are roommates. arthur wants to graduate summa cum laude. eames wants to have sex with his roommate. these are both very difficult goals to achieve.

eames is majoring in anthropology and minoring in sociology

all of his electives are languages

arthur is majoring in something awful like finance or business

or perhaps Computer Information Systems which is apparently something that exists

arthur assumes eames is a slacker because he's always lounging around their dorm but eames has a 4.0 gpa

eames assumes lots of things about arthur every single day and he tells arthur about each and every one of them

which is annoying not only because it's hard to study with eames yapping in his ear but also because eames is always correct

eames makes it a personal goal to sleep with arthur before arthur graduates (he is set to graduate two years early)

arthur of course decides to kiss eames the moment his commencement ceremony is over

but really. the guy was taking like 8 courses a semester. how was he supposed to have a sex life in those conditions

arthur liked eames from day 1 but he actively chose not to because if he started sleeping with his roommate he would never get anything done

eames meanwhile flirts with arthur for an entire semester before realizing he genuinely has a crush on the guy

shortly after moving in with each other, eames makes some off-hand reference to some obscure art movement, effortlessly and correctly relating it to a book he read recently

arthur nearly breaks his pencil from the strain of not walking over, sitting on eames' lap, and tearing his clothes off

eames thinks arthur hates him but the truth is that arthur is shoving his feelings down so hard that the man is vibrating on a constant basis

[theangrykimchi]

“What happened?” Arthur asks again when Eames reaches out for the bandaids and another tube of ointment for his stitches, and he’s half-expecting him to evade his questioning again, to turn it into another bout of flirting or bickering. Eames uses a Q-tip for the application, stroking a finger down the side of the small wound. His silence lasts so long that it frankly starts to annoy Arthur.

“Last year, we worked a gig with Moreau – do you remember Moreau?”

“The French guy? The lousy extractor who’s always trying to feel me up?” Eames huffs in annoyance. “Can't believe you remember that arseface and not me, I'm shaking my head at you, Arthur.”

“Perhaps he's more memorable than you, Mr. Eames. I did have to break three of his fingers last time we worked together.” Arthur's smiling mischievously, sending him a playful look.

“One day, I'm going to bite those dimples off your pretty face, just be warned,” Eames grouches.

Read on AO3

Explicit, ongoing

[strangegeology]

“And there was me thinking you seemed rather intelligent,” Arthur parried, fiddling with the neck of his no doubt ludicrously expensive t-shirt. “Despite some questionable sartorial choices.”

Eames gave him a knowing look. “My sartorial choices don’t seem to have put you off.”

-

Eames runs a yoga studio. Arthur works in finance. Sometimes it's all too easy to jump to conclusions.

Adventures in Campanology - on ao3.

(Explicit, 18k)

[thenwhatthefukcisthis]

Hello so i recently watched inception (for the first time after 14 years lol) and i love athur and eames ship a lot so i kinda want to know do you have any fic recomendations for them :3 thanks in advance, so great seeing people still keep an old fandom alive!!!

Hiii new friend to the fandom ♥️

so here are a few of my all time favourites (hopefully they match your taste :D)

1. https://archiveofourown.org/works/43695804/chapters/109876557

2. https://archiveofourown.org/works/58643005

3. https://archiveofourown.org/series/6054

4. https://archiveofourown.org/works/55320265/chapters/140343664

Here is a Christmas’s fic rec lists I’ve come across! (Since it’s the season!)

https://www.tumblr.com/mister-eames/737591378407718912/iz-chrismes

I’ll also tag a couple of my mutuals (and authors!) so that they too can contribute and anyone and everyone is welcome to add fic recs, cause all the fics in this fandom are great!

@mister-eames @valerileygreen @strangegeology @dingdangit @deinvatiwrites @dreaminghigher @ladysarai

Thank you for reaching out to! Hope you have lots of fun in the fandom ♥️

[sequencefairy]

Would you mind sharing the link for the inception fic you mentioned because I'm like 👀👀👀 lol. I forget about inception a lot of the time but when I remember I'm OBSESSED with Eames/ Arthur lmao

Oh man! I read so much inception fic actually, but here's what I currently have in my ao3 bookmarks:

the dry sand of daylight - spqr | 15k, E, complete [or: Arthur is married to Eames for the better part of a decade. Then he wakes up.]

All the world is bullet shaped - pushdragon | 76k, E, complete If Arthur thinks that, just by waving enough money around, he can get Eames to risk his life and reputation to rescue him from a death sentence, he's got another thing coming. So Eames sets a malicious, undignified price on his services, one he can be certain that a man like Arthur would never condescend to pay. It turns out to be the first of many mistakes.

The Only Living Boy in New York - witling | 47k, E, complete Arthur and Eames, in limbo. For 47,000 words.

Presque Vu - rageprufrock | 69k, E, complete Or, "on the tip of the tongue." Arthur meets Mal first. He inherits Dom, after. Everything else is on him.

Patience, a Steady Hand - Helenish | 43k, E, complete 821 A.D. Arthur is in the nightmare business. Eames is a thief, a liar, and versatile with a pen.

^ these are all arthur/eames, just re-read the dry sand of daylight tonight again because I like to hurt myself before bed.

play the goddamn part - hardscrabble | 101k, T, complete One simple idea that changes everything: Ariadne, as Cobb sees her - the red-wearing maze designer and Cobb-unraveler - is almost too good to be true. That's because she isn't. True, that is; she's definitely, DEFINITELY good. When her thesis adviser Dr. Stephen Miles puts her in the way of a VERY interesting opportunity (for the low, low price of just one fake ID), Ari decides to go for it and winds up neck-deep in stuff she never knew existed.

When this is finished, she’s going to learn to wear a suit like Arthur, tell a lie like Eames, network like Yusuf, and pull perhaps two per cent of Saito’s annual income over her first five years post-doctorate. She's hung the rest of her life on this job, so she may as well get some off-resume skills out of it.

^ this is like, platonic throuple sort of? it's really lovely, however.

I promise to do a better job of bookmarking shit in the future but one of my sources for good fic, fandom irrelevant, are spqr's bookmarks and there are a BUNCH of good Inception fics in there too!

[furiosophie]

Eames doesn’t look like he’s sorry. He puts his cigarette out in a long-dead potted plant on the windowsill, blind, almost knocking it over. “Tell me the truth, Arthur – how bloody long?” “Nine years,” Arthur says flatly. Because why the hell not, at this point. Eames stares, and stares. Arthur looks away. He knows what he must look like – face puffy from sleep, hair a fucking mess, bangs curling over his forehead in clothes that are too big, wildly unprofessional. For six years Eames has been angling for a casual fuck and Arthur’s been nursing the open wound of loving him like a fucking teenager with a crush – it’s pathetic. The indignity is astonishing. “Nine years,” Eames echoes, after a long time. “And I was – with you.”

the dry sand of daylight by @andthepeople (spqr)

[valerileygreen]

Hello guys! Can you help me find a fic?

I don't actually remember much about it, but I'm 99% positive it's arthur/eames, and in the scene I remember Ariadne is asking Eames about what a pointman does, because it's not such a tangible and defined role as the others. And Eames starts explaining everything it entails and how Arthur's role is so very important and how he's the best.

Does someone know what fic is it? It's one of the first I read when I joined the fandom but I haven't been able to find it again...

Thank you 💛

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

dying without ur art king pls come back and feed us

o no… it hasnt even been very long yet! Yall got kinda spoiled with my speedy hangster art for a bit there but im truly very inconsistent, sometimes i draw fast and sometimes i draw slow ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I was sick for awhile and am working on a comic for a fundraiser for a family in Gaza now, so idk when i’ll have more art for you guys :/

Heres a sketch from while i was rewatching terminator judgement day the other day at least?😅

[elwenyere]

First Player to Break Hearts (Inception, Arthur x Eames)

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating: T

Tags: Torture, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sleep Deprivation, Hallucinations, Minor Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Author’s Note: A very happy Whumptober to all who celebrate!!! This fic was written for the prompts for day 8, Sleep Deprivation: Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | "Leave the lights on."

.....

“Ready to talk?”

They’ve had Eames for about six hours, and aside from a bit of customary rough handling in transit from the bar where they grabbed him to the harshly lit room where they’ve got him strapped to a metal chair, they’ve barely touched him. So while Eames isn’t surprised to see Peter Browning walk in, he’s mildly offended to hear he expects Eames to give up the goods on the threat of violence alone.

“You remember me,” Browning says. “So you know why you’re here.”

Eames does. He’s here because some green extractor with more ambition than common sense had whispered the word “inception” in Browning’s ear last month at a conference. He’s here because that little talk had gotten Browning thinking about Robert, who’d always been so shy and tractable as a kid, and who’d become so unaccountably mulish after Maurice had died. He’s here because an architect who owed Arthur a favor had tipped him off that Browning was running a deep background check on the personal assistant who’d come and gone in the days before Fischer-Morrow fell apart. 

And most of all he’s here because when Arthur had showed up at the flat where Eames was staying in La Jolla to tell him to lie low and let Arthur handle Browning, Eames had slipped a mickey into his drink and dropped him off at Cobb’s.

“What the fuck, Eames?” Cobb had demanded. “You drugged him?”

“Bit of a glass-houses situation, wouldn’t you say?” Eames had asked.

Read the Rest on AO3

[enchi-elm]

✨ weekend wip exposure club ✨

rules: post 7 sentences/a snippet of an unfinished work

I will do you one better, I will just post the whole thing as I'm not planning on taking it anywhere. Thanks, @strangegeology, for the tag!

Unbeta'd, unedited, etc. etc.

tagging @tortoisesshells, @ladysarai, @thenwhatthefukcisthis, @valerileygreen because I thiiiink you weren't tagged yet!

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

one - love

Eames comes across Arthur at the tennis court. He wants to stay back, observe the man from a distance, but Arthur spots him as soon as he’s within view. His game face doesn’t change—if he’s scowling at Eames’ appearance, Eames can’t tell. He might be hitting the ball a little harder and his opponent stumbles as he lunges, sprawling flat against the court as the ball hits the chain-link fence.

Arthur walks to his bag and grabs his towel, holding up a finger and nodding at his opponent. He wipes his face, walking over swiftly to where Eames stands.

Before Eames can make a comment about his tennis whites, or even ask what the hell Arthur is doing playing at a country club, Arthur cuts him off.

"What are you doing here? Whatever this is, I don’t have time for this right now.”

Hello to you, too. But fine, if he wants to get right to business.

“I have a job for you,” Eames says.

“I don’t work for you.”

“No, but I thought you might deign to work alongside me again. For the right price.”

Arthur gives him a wary look, then glances at his opponent, who’s subtly trying to ingest as many glucose tubes as Arthur’s brief distraction will let him.

“I’m busy,” he says, turning away.

“I’ll be at the bar,” Eames calls out, without acknowledgement from the point man.

Arthur goes back to his position, tossing his towel aside en route. His opponent wipes his mouth and gets into position to serve, already grimacing.

Eames watches Arthur return the serve as if he’s decapitating someone.

Eames knows little about tennis and can’t gauge the length of the game before Arthur shows up at the country club, racket and gym bag slung over his shoulder. Eames is deep in conversation with another patron—swindling him blind and leading him on besides—but he gives a thin smile at the younger man’s approach.

“So what do you want?” Arthur asks, and Eames can tell from no tell at all: he won his match.

“Arthur, let me introduce you to Mr. Ian Thorpe. A financier from Atlanta.”

Arthur shakes hands, just this side of civil.

“Pleasure.”

“Your friend’s been spinning me quite the yarn,” the financier says. He’s a forgettable sort of rich—the right colour suit, but the wrong cut. “He’d have me believing in the investment of a lifetime.”

“He’s a crook,” Arthur says, to a chuckle from Eames. “And a liar. But he gets results.”

The man laughs and rises. “Well, maybe I will give you a call then. I’m sure we can find a way to do business.”

“The pleasure is all yours,” Eames says, greasily, packing everything into the lift of his lips that might otherwise be transmitted in a wink. Arthur watches the man leave and takes the other chair at the table.

“He’s not worth your time,” he says.

Eames casually flashes a black leather wallet—not his. “He already has been.”

“I doubt he’ll miss the cash.”

Eames flips it open and pulls out the driver’s license, perusing it. “It’s not the cash that interests me.”

“He’s your target.”

Eames puts away the wallet. “Or maybe just a person of interest.” He focuses on Arthur, a transparent smile on his face. It could mean anything.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to recruit you. If such a thing is even possible—you must be booked well into next year.”

“What’s the job?”

“An oil man. Bit of a twisted one.”

“Let me guess. Inception?” It wouldn’t be the first offer Arthur’s had this month. It wouldn’t be the first of the week. Whoever blabbed—and Arthur has his theories—made sure that their little reverse-heist was on the lips of every extractor in the industry. Not because they’d tried—God, lots of people had tried—but because Fischer Morrow had folded within six months after Fischer Sr.’s death. Even Arthur hadn’t expected such a swift return.

Eames hums, sympathetic to Arthur’s irritation. He must be hearing a lot of it, too. “You know that the men’s world record for the 100 m dash was at a stalemate for 12 years before it was broken? All it took was one man to crack it and it got beat twice again in four years.”

Arthur pushes down the urge to correct him. It was 14 years, not 12. And it took another five years for it to get broken again. But he knows what he’s saying. For the longest time, Inception was only theory.

“Why, did someone else do it?” That would be interesting.

“A sucker born every two weeks, if the rumour mill is to be believed. Personally, I doubt it.”

“Why, ‘cause you weren’t involved?”

“I was going to say,” Eames says, lifting his glass, “because you weren’t.”

The flattery works, for one unexpected second—Arthur feels a warmth in his neck. He pulls out his water bottle and drinks deeply.

“So what is the job? Extraction? I’m not doing more than two levels. I’m not exactly keen for another one of Yusuf’s concoctions.”

“That’s a shame. I can’t get him off my phone. Says he’s never had such a willing test subject. I think he’d work for free if it meant he got another whack at you.”

“Not a chance. Why aren’t you answering my question?”

“Because I’m savouring this time together before you storm off to annihilate some other poor sod on the court.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “Why would I storm off?”

“Because you’re not going to like how much you’ll want to do this.”

Arthur listens as Eames tells him the job. He gives it ten steady seconds before he stands and walks away without another word.

“I’ll be in touch!” Eames calls and Arthur gives him the finger without looking back.

[otomiyaa]

Reality

Arthur x Eames (Inception)

[Fic Reupload] - This ship came by on my dashboard and I was like GASP, I've got a fic with those! You'd say this one's ancient but it's from 2020.

Summary: Eames wants to tickle Arthur, and more. In reality, not just in his dreams. That is all. (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.8K

His laughter was gorgeous, he thought. His face as he laughed was adorable, he thought. The sound of his laughter was like music, he thought. He also thought that this was all he could work with, for now: Eames and his very own imagination.

“Eheheames! S-stop!” Smirking, Eames pinned Arthur down and tickled his sides.

“Thought you could get away from me, hm? Did you really think so?” Eames teased as his fingers traced the other man’s abs, sneaking under his shirt and poking him anywhere to make him yelp and giggle.

“Nohoho!” Arthur writhed and squirmed to get away from his fingers, but he found something new to tickle with each turn and twist.

“Don’t think so darling,” he taunted when Arthur managed to squirm away juuust a little, and he caught him again and practically almost dove under his shirt to get more skin to feel, and different sorts of laughter to hear.

Ever since meeting Arthur again, it was all he could think and dream of. Heck, it was only a dream. Not reality. Who was Eames kidding? Himself, of course. 

Oh. And Ariadne, it seemed. 

His breath got caught in his throat and he staggered back upon seeing her familiar face as she stepped towards them. With his attacker caught off guard, the adorable giggling Arthur sped away and managed to escape to wherever. Out of sight, at least.

“Mr. Eames?” Eames knew this Ariadne was real. No projection. Very real. He smiled, sighing as he caught his breath.

“Well hello there,” he said, raising his hands in defense. She cocked her head, looking curious and confused about what she just saw, a smile on her face. Well duh.

“Was that..?” She pointed in the direction where Arthur ran off to, and Eames choked out an awkward laugh.

“That? Oh. No, that wasn’t Arthur. No. My projection of him. You see….” He canceled his explanation and glared at her.

“I mean, what are you doing here?” he asked her, cutting off his own explanation. She shrugged.

“I came back to work on some of the layouts. I think I missed some details in the hotel level, and Fischer has to believe it’s real and… Well yeah. I didn’t expect you to still be in here. I thought maybe you were working on our case and came to check,” Ariadne said.

“And I didn’t expect you to be so nosy,” Eames said, still partially breathless from his struggle just now. Thank God he wasn’t dreaming of… other things this time. Guilty of that? Yeah, guilty. 

A smile appeared on Ariadne’s face.

“But honestly, that looked like fun. You should do it for real sometime. Arthur could use a laugh,” she said. Eames blinked.

“Eh that - you mean, yes. Yes - yes - you’re right! He does deserve to laugh some, doesn’t he? I thought so too. Which was why I was trying it out in my dream first. But I guess we can only imagine what his laughter sounds like. What did you think? Believable?” he asked. Ariadne shrugged and thought for a bit while Eames collected his thoughts and calmed down from that insane ramble.

Holy shit. None of that was really true. He came here to tickle Arthur and get off on that shit. He loved the idea of him laughing and writhing at his mercy. Those were the dreams he longed to live in everyday.

It was the only thing that could make him, a renowned Forger, blush and feel embarrassed. To an extent that he didn’t see it was as simple as Ariadne suggested. He could tickle him for real, not just in his dreams. He could tickle him, and it wouldn’t necessarily be weird. If he could control his crotch and every horny vein in his body that is.

“Sorry, what did you say?” he said when Ariadne looked at him with questioning eyes. She laughed charmingly.

“I said, I expect his laugh to be a little more… I don’t know. Pitchy? I could be wrong.”

Eames couldn’t hold back a laugh of his own. “So that’s how you see him?”

He ended up going with her, waking back up again and hearing her out some more. He felt comfortable to talk to her about Arthur. He had an idea she might suspect his intentions, or at least she might have seen a glimpse, but then again she never said anything about it. 

So that evening, they talked about Arthur, for how long he knew him and when they first met, about his serious demeanour, what his real laughter would sound like, and whether he would be ticklish, and if yes, where exactly.

It was the next day when he saw his chance. He was in the building with Arthur and Ariadne, Cobb was working on something with Yusuf, and he could see from the smirk on Ariadne’s face that she just wanted him to try it, and he was thankful for it. For he, Eames himself had been longing to do this for such a long time without wanting it to get too weird.

“Hey, Arthur,” he said to the Point Man who stood hovered over their dream level layouts, studying something.

“Eames,” Arthur said absentmindly, not looking up from his work. Eames smirked and wiggled his eyebrows at Ariadne.

“Look over there,” Eames said casually as he pointed at something random in the distance. He wanted to snicker when Arthut fell for it, looking up to see nothing.

“Wha-?” His moment of distraction was Eames’ chance to sneak an arm around his middle and he instantly clawed at his unprotected side. Arthur jolted heavily in response, a gasp escaping his lips.

“Eames what the -” They struggled for a moment, knocking a few things over as they staggered a little before Eames managed to wrestle him down. 

“Asshole! Get off, the fuck are you.. Hngh!” Arthur jolted again when Eames pinched his hipbone, and he smirked down at him. 

“Tougher than we thought, hm?" Eames looked up at Ariadne who was simply smirking. Sure, Eames had never thought how easy it’d be to hide his guilty desire under the excuse of a simple wish to tease the ever so serious Point Man and make him laugh. Anyone would feel the same.

“EAmes! GEheet ohohoff!” Arthur’s voice shook, the first few giggles broke through his defense, but he remained tough. 

“Ah come on now. Let us hear something nice, Arthur!” Eames teased, and he moved up again and poked at Arthur’s side. Arthur’s body jumped but failed to get out of Eames’ reach, and he hungrily began to claw at both his sides, five fingers clawing at each side. Arthur threw his head back and laughed.

“Fuhuhuck! AHah! I hahaate you!” he cried out. Eames raised his eyebrows.

“Do you now?” he raised his head and winked at Ariadne who looked totally entertained.

“Looks like both of us were kind of right,” she said. His laughter was not exactly like Eames had imagined, it couldn’t really be called pitchy either. though at times Eames would hit a certain sensitive area and Arthur went like “Eeheh!” which sounded totally squeaky.

“Stahahap! The hehehell!” Still confused and overwhelmed by the sudden tickle assault, Arthur continued to squirm and struggle, but Eames was by far not done with him. He tried to ignore his own racing heart and the heat in his body as his hands tugged Arthur’s shirt out of his pants and dove right under.

“GAhah! Eheheames!” Arthur warned, arching his back as he tried to escape ten fingers that crawled over his bare skin now. Eames laughed along with him.

“Yes, darling?” he teased, and he could hear his own voice sounding a bit wheezy as well. He wiggled his fingers against Arthur’s warm skin, tickling his stomach, his belly, his sides and ribs, anywhere he could reach and anywhere he thought could make him let out more of that beautiful laughter.

Arthur’s arms went from flailing helplessly to waving in his direction in weak attempts to knock him off, and at some point he was desperately trying to pry his hands off.

“Quihihit it dahahamnh it!” Arthur laughed. Eames chuckled and looked back up again, then around him. Ariadne was gone. Where had she gone? He looked around a few more times. She really was gone. They were alone right now. In his moment of distraction, he lost some of his control over the hysterical Point Man who by now shoved him away - hard - and managed to roll away.

“Fuck Eames, quit messing around!” Arthur warned angrily as he staggered away from him, but with renewed motivation and strength, Eames went after him and pounced very easily. 

“AHAhah! Shihihit!” In an instant, he had Arthur under him again. He aimed further up this time: his armpits, and Arthur looked shocked, offended and overall awfully ticklish all at the same time by having such a spot tickled by the plotting Forger. 

Shoving one of Arthur’s prying hands out of the way and pushing it up over his head, Eames scribbled at his defenseless underarm, making Arthur howl adorably.

“See, darling? You can be cute. Some more of this and that eternal frown that grew on your forehead’s all gone,” Eames teased breathlessly. 

“Stahahap! Eames -stop!” Well, both Eames and Ariadne had probably never guessed the Point Man to be this ticklish. Eames had wished to try a lot more, but his crush seemed to have reached his limit by far, so he reluctantly ceased the attack, but he remained on top of him as they both caught their breaths.

“You’re a dick,” Arthur managed to say between heavy breaths. Eames nodded.

“Yeah. And?” he said. Arthur looked as if he was blushing, but Eames knew his face probably colored because of all that forced laughter. He shook his head.

“Just… a dick,” Arthur finished. Eames shrugged.

“Yep. Alrighty then.” He finally got up and moved off him, helping him up and patting his shoulder. Even that innocent touch made Arthur flinch and giggle, and Eames melted right on the spot. 

“Damn Arthur,” he hissed, and he pulled him closer and kissed him on the lips. All of his control slipped away in that very last moment. Arthur froze at first, but Eames was happily surprised to feel him respond in a positive way. With surprising strength for someone just tickled to death, Arthur pushed him back against the wall and kissed him back.

Their lips locked, tongues touching, feeling and exploring, and they shared a long, lustful and heated kiss. After which Arthur pulled back, and whispered against Eames’ lips: “Still a dick.” He then very quickly walked away. Eames couldn’t keep the smug smile away from his face. Damn that was good.

“Hey, where are you going?” he called out after Arthur who seemed in quite a hurry to leave, and he went after him. If this was his reality, how had he been living with only his dreams so far? He had some reality to catch up to!

[dareduffie]

well you see it's one of the best movies of all time

[ladysarai]

Fic: Proximity and Chance (Inception)

Words: 12,134 Rating: Not Rated Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception) Characters: Arthur (Inception), Eames (Inception) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Serious Injuries, Broken Bones, Post-Break Up, Reconciliation, Breaking Up & Making Up, Idiots in Love, Fever, Delirium Summary: An injured Eames stumbles to one of his safe houses, only to find that Arthur is already holed up there. This is surprising, mainly because of the horrible way they broke up. It's fine, though. It's not like they're going to be snowed in while Eames's wound gets infected and Arthur has to face the idea that he might die before they can reconcile or he can explain himself. Right? Wrong.

Written with @nutterzoi for @belbeten as part of the @inceptionauction! Thank you so much for the amazing prompt! I hope it's worth the wait... As you can see, the length got a little bit away from us. :)

[ladaveen]

ArthurxEames fic recs

These are my favorites and not in particular order I just love every single one of them, also some are probably smuts so beware hehe

Presque Vu by rageprufrock : this is probably THE arthureames fic, I was floored by literally everything in the story

M | 69k words

Or, "on the tip of the tongue." Arthur meets Mal first. He inherits Dom, after. Everything else is on him.

Early Returns by rageprufrock

M | 15.5k words

Thinking that a reporter genuinely likes you is pretty much on par with feeling like you really are special to that stripper.

Trouble With Dreams by sparkledark

E | 39.7k words

College AU in which Arthur is a cranky senior and Eames is a professor of Dream Psychology.

These fragments I have shored against my ruins by aprettyaway

M | 10.2k words

This is what his life has become: hotels and coffee and reveling in those few hours he has to himself. The French news lulls him to sleep, and Arthur thinks if he can just get through this job, then it will be over. If only.

Late Night Phone Call by sparkledark

E | 14.6k words

Arthur usually finds blatant fishing for compliments extremely irritating, but in Eames’ case he is reluctantly charmed. In fact, he writes the phrase “reluctantly charmed” into the Eames notebook the moment the words occur to him because they so perfectly encapsulate his entire situation.

Pants on Fire by Helenish

E | 15.1k words

"Ah," Yusuf says, lifting a reproving hand, "are we calling less than 24 hours of memory loss amnesia now?"

we were once cinema gods in the night by gyzym

M | 21.3k words

That's the thing about Hollywood--everyone has a Hollywood story.

All's Fair (In Love & Werewolves) by Whisky (whiskyrunner)

E | 29.6k words

Arthur is lucky to have Eames. Somebody just as different, someone who understands when he wakes up in the middle of the night feeling like he's all alone in the universe. Eames makes that feeling go away. Eames, however, is not alone.

Incipit by thehoyden

E | 8.5k words

Arthur has been his editor from the beginning. Eames says he won't work with anyone else, and what Arthur will never tell him is that he would cut anyone who tried.

between my reflex & my resolve by gyzym

T | 4.7k words

People you kiss in an airport baggage claim and then don't talk to for thirteen months shouldn't be able to exist, let alone make your chest do the things Arthur's chest is doing. There are rules.

Catalyst by five_ht

E | 3.3k words

Arthur is a freshman omega in college who hasn't yet had his first heat. Eames is a friendly alpha who is willing to lend a hand.

Hello, I Love You, Won't You Tell Me Your Name by eleveninches

E | 3.6k words

Many people, Eames would find out later, assumed Eames had wanted Arthur from the moment they'd met. It was true Arthur was devestatingly attractive, but in all honesty, the first thing Eames had thought when he'd met Arthur was, Why did Cobb bring his son? (Or: It's all about trust.)

Don't Fall in Love with a Dreamer by eleveninches

E | 19.7k words

Arthur joins the mile high club, Cobb joins the broken hearts club, Eames joins the smug extractors' club, and Yusuf just wants to club everyone. Or, Eames steals Cobb's point man.

In Our Line of Work by enjambament

T | 15.7k words

Arthur wakes up and realizes the last ten years of his life have been a dream. He is nineteen, and he can barely remember where he is. What he can remember is the ghost of Eames’ hands pressed down on his chest trying frantically to stop the blood flooding up around his fingers as Arthur died (as he woke up).

[thenwhatthefukcisthis]

to quote our wonderful eames, writing is not impossible, it’s just bloody difficult xD

hope you guys will enjoy it :D - I’m not a writer so read at your own risk-

(title and dialogue prompts are shamelessly and happily taken from old guard 2020 movie. so if you are a fan of that too, yay!)

owe this entire fic to @valerileygreen , you were the best. the best.

[strangegeology]

MAN IN FINANCE???????? (im looking for a man in finance… trust fund… 6’ … blue eyes.?.????)

YES ANON IM AFRAID SO I can't unhear it. Eames isn't six five, but Arthur thinks that maybe he's willing to overlook that this time. Except Eames isn't actually any of the things he pretends to be. But then, Arthur hasn't exactly been honest either.

-

“Eyes left,” Arthur says, watching the man at the bar.

Ariadne makes a show of reaching for her jacket where it’s draped over the back of Arthur’s stool, completely unsubtle in her observation.

“Oh for gods sake Arthur give it a rest, he’s exactly like all the others,” she says, turning back to face him.

“So I have a type,” Arthur replies with a shrug.

“Yeah and your type is ‘asshole’.

“It’s called having standards.”

“It’s called setting yourself up for failure by constantly going for shallow, self-important dickwads with less personality than a cardboard box who then try to make up for it with ferraris, anthracite window frames and poorly managed anger issues.”

“Meow,” Arthur replies, then takes a sip of his drink. “Anyway, the way I said it was catchier.”