#ilsa faust fanfic

[radical-sky]

Shelter, part 1

don't you ever leave me alone, my war is over, be my shelter from the storm

One year post-Fallout, Ilsa joins the IMF, partnering with Ethan and his team. After their first mission goes catastrophically wrong, Ethan sacrifices himself in a desperate bid to save Ilsa's life. Believing he failed and she's dead, Ethan suffers the consequences of the unsuccessful mission. Five months later, the team - and Ilsa, get him out.

pairing: Ilsa/Ethan

wordcount: 4.1k

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, violence, graphic depictions/descriptions of torture and the aftermath, pregnancy, very minor mention of a suicide attempt.

AO3 (user restricted) here

ENDLESS thank you to the truly amazing @agentfaust for the most thorough, in depth, and detailed beta anyone has ever given me. You are phenomenal babe!!

Ilsa can’t remember the last time she was tempted to fidget, all nervous ticks trained out of her before she was even with MI6. The old habits have never been as tempting as they are now, standing in a cold and damp third-world prison waiting for Ethan to be brought out to her.

Well, not just her. The White Widow stands next to her, her brother not far away. He scowls at Ilsa, not happy to be here and not happy to risk his and his sister’s lives on a job for her. It’s nothing sanctioned (if any members of your team are caught or killed, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions) but the moment Benji had finally, finally found Ethan the team had gotten things moving as quickly as possible. Luther and Benji worked their computers nearly 24 hours a day, and Ilsa called favors and made connections in country wherever she could. Even Brandt was helping, pulling strings and doing as much as he could legally behind the scenes while staying their inside man at the IMF.  

Luther or Benji (it doesn’t matter now because they both had been trying their damnedest to get it done) had hacked into the security system in the prison; cameras in every cell, interrogation room, the hallways. Not that any of them needed to see what they were doing to Ethan (in the two weeks since she first saw him on the grainy camera feed it’s all she sees when she closes her eyes, doesn’t need audio to hear his screams and the sounds they rip from his throat, or backdated footage to catalog what tool made each scar or bleeding wound on his body. Those pictures will be seared in her brain for all eternity. She wants and yearns and rages at the sacrifice he made for her, for them, and falls asleep with a screen playing live footage from his cell in her lap, showing him pressed back into the corner of the tiny cage, curled up protectively, shivering or trembling she can’t tell. Wishing she could tell him somehow I’m coming. I will get you out. I haven’t forgotten about you. you’re not disavowed to me. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry Ethan). 

They don’t have to watch the footage for long to decide that any escape that depends on Ethan getting himself out won’t happen. Without government backing and even with Brandt’s help they don’t have the resources or the manpower to storm the prison and break him out. That left one option, and it wasn’t one that any of them liked. The White Widow hadn’t been the least bit interested in taking a call from Ilsa until she’d said John Lark needs your help. 

The team had debated on how to refer to Ethan, desperately wanting to keep his identity as an American agent secret. They knew he hadn’t revealed it, the terrorists would have auctioned him off or killed him if he had. The White Widow knew him as John Lark, and that was all it took. From there Alanna was easily bargained into breaking him out. To Ilsa’s trained eye she could tell Ethan intrigued the other woman. It wasn’t a jealous realization, wasn’t even a shock. It’s Ethan - people are drawn to him, he’s magnetic without even trying or meaning to be. Without even being in the room he can convince people to take jobs that are completely against what they usually do. Ilsa can speak to it herself, she knew she was burning a bridge when she saved him the first time, but despite her past, she couldn’t watch Vinter kill him in the most painful way possible. She’s never been in a relationship like the one with Ethan, drawn in and ready to sacrifice the mission for someone else. Ilsa had been ready to be out of the game for a long time, before Kashmir had believed that it would never - could never - happen. Ethan changed that. Changed her reasons for wanting out. She didn’t plan on falling in love when she tossed him the key in London.

Breaking him out had been the original plan, but when Zola studied the camera footage, guard patterns, and security he decided it would cost too many men. A second plan was formed, and the White Widow had brokered a trade as diplomatically as she always had; the prisoner who was arrested after a motorcycle accident on terrorism charges 5 months ago traded for cash and enough weapons for a small personal army. Ilsa knows she should be as worried about what the weapons will be used for as the rest of the team, but even though she is part of them now, she operated differently for so long that she’s almost forgotten what it’s like to have those concerns. It’s Ethan, surely any price is worth his freedom? (Deep down Ilsa knows Ethan would disagree, loudly, with his dying breath, that his own life is not worth a single innocent life.) Benji and Luther had come up with a secondary mission, running alongside the retrieval to guarantee there would be no innocent lives lost because of the weapons traded for him. It took another week for Alanna to acquire the weapons, leaving ample time for the team to gather the cash for Ethan and the separate cash for Alanna, one-half of the price for her involvement in the exchange. Alanna, just like the terrorists, had also required a two part payment, unable to pass up an opportunity when it presented itself to her. Ilsa doesn’t worry about the other half of Alanna’s fee, it's a problem for later. After Ethan is back and healed and whole again. She hopes he won’t be too furious with her for agreeing to it on his behalf. 

So, now here she is. Not fidgeting. Not twisting her ankle or flexing her calf muscles and imaging she can feel the rods and pins holding her leg together, or the scar where her tibia bone punched through the skin of her calf, not twisting her arm and feeling knitted scars where the bones ground together excruciatingly. 

And above all else she’s not resting her hand on the barely there bump on her stomach, the bump invisible and hidden beneath a loose blouse and trench coat. Invisible to everyone who doesn’t know her and Ethan’s secret. 

———

The first mission wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

It was supposed to be easy and wonderful and the start of the greatest partnership of his life. 

So of course, like everything else in his life, it went to shit in 5 minutes. 

He and Ilsa had never exactly named The Thing between them, except that it was theirs. He didn’t tell Benji and Luther (although greatly suspected Luther knew and Benji was suspicious), and Ilsa being a free agent didn’t have anyone to tell. They were each other's greatest secret, greatest weakness, greatest compromise. Because they did compromise each other. There was no question after they’d saved each other so many times, sacrificing the mission for them. The Thing started simply. After handing Lane off to MI6 they spent a week in London exploring each other's bodies carefully around broken ribs and bruised necks (and how he had enjoyed adding his marks to her neck and having her hands on his chest) telling stories and sharing the private, secret parts of themselves no one else knew - then a night Cape Town, a weekend in Moscow, six hours in Brussels, two days in Paris, traveling 8 hours to spend half that time in her hotel room in Athens. Whenever they could and their schedules overlapped enough, or if they even happened to be in the same time zone, they were together. 

After Julia, he didn’t think he’d ever feel this way about another woman. 

Any chance he could he’d pull her into his missions. Anything to have her by his side. Ilsa was always available and never said no. She was traveling a lot, but he didn’t think she was taking any other jobs as a free agent, waiting for him to call her and almost always close by. Ethan had wondered many times if she declined jobs and traveled to follow him, just close enough it was convenient. When Brandt told him Sloane had given him the approval to extend the offer of a permanent position with the IMF - with Ethan’s team - to Ilsa he was perhaps the happiest he’d ever been. The two of them together - partners - properly, permanently. 

He never thought he’d be considering marriage again either.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when it fell apart. The plan failed. His backup scenarios ran out. There were no more moves, no more chess pieces. So when he wrecked and went down, Ilsa dead in his earpiece, Benji too late to save her, a part of him, all hope, died with her. When he saw his pursuers approaching he was relieved, he’d never been so ready or willing to meet death than in that moment. To go where Ilsa would be waiting for him. He was already halfway there, a piece of rebar in his chest, internal injuries too numerous to catalog, his leg didn’t feel right, arm wouldn’t lift. Ethan closed his eyes, ready for the bullet that would end his life. 

He certainly hadn’t expected them to take him alive, put him in the hospital, and get him just healthy enough that he’d survive the torture, and survive he did, but not as Ethan Hunt. As something else, a shell of a human. All hope lost. No prayer of rescue. He knew he was disavowed and no help would be coming. He tried to escape, more than once. Each time failed and each time it got worse. So he kept his mouth shut and took what they gave him. Didn’t utter a word except for the screams and shouts when it became too much. He’d already failed everything and everyone else. He couldn’t fail here. Couldn’t stand to betray his country on top of it all. 

When his captors told him he was being traded for goods more valuable than him, he knew he had to end it or escape. He couldn’t do this indefinitely. Eventually, he’d break and the shell would crack and he’d be human again. So he plotted and planned, and when they came for him he knew what he had to do. His final mission, the last plan, the one to end it all. 

———

The far door opens with a clang and three guards file in, dragging a body by a chain between them. 

She’d known it would be shocking seeing him again and was already braced for what condition he’d be in, but she wasn’t quite prepared for how awful it would be to come face to face with the consequences of her own failures. How jarring it’d be to see Ethan so still and lifeless, compliant. She would’ve guessed he’d die before giving up. 

Ilsa is the cynical one, she knows the harsh realities and cruelties of this world. She’s practical. She’s been the torturer and the assassin with no regard for the lives she’s affecting. But not Ethan, it was never supposed to be him that faced down the darkness of her world and had to, somehow, come out the other side. Ilsa has already done that. Too many times to count. It’s made her who she is and she’s not prepared to be on the opposite side of that. Ilsa had been alone for so long before him and no one had ever protected her like this before - sacrificing themselves to shield her from her own mistake. She hopes it hasn’t destroyed Ethan. Taken away his loyalty, compassion, the ability to see goodness in everyone, or the desire to protect everyone. It takes every bit of her not to step forward and cradle his body to hers when another guard grabs his legs and the two men toss Ethan into the center of the room. 

Ethan hits the ground with a thud and multiple wet coughs. 

“Fucker tried to kill himself. Been a long time since he’s had that much energy.”

Fury, hatred, and grief all ripple through her at the words, but the man spoke in his native tongue, one she isn’t supposed to speak. She keeps her face and body language impassive. This isn’t a man she’s deeply in love with. He’s a job, a mission required in the course of her duties. Nothing more than the man her employers want her to hunt down and bring to them. 

If only it were that simple.

Ilsa steps forward and crouches in front of Ethan, fisting her hand into his hair. She pulls up harshly, detaching her mind from her body and what she is about to do. (Her mind is raking her eyes over him, unable to focus on one thing because her attention is immediately drawn to something else. There’s a thick chain fastened around his neck, tight to his skin and surrounded by some of the deepest bruising she’s ever seen. The end of it trails out from his neck, a mocking and sick impersonation of a leash. His hands are bound behind his back with rope that’s splotchy bright red with new blood and dark almost black of old, dried blood. She can’t see the skin of his wrists. She doesn’t want to. He’s shirtless and Ilsa can count his ribs where they protrude from his chest and the vertebrae of his spine down his scarred and bleeding back. She can identify where and what bones of his bare feet and hands have been broken and healed wrong because she’s done that, she’s broken those bones on prisoners before. She wonders what his legs look like under the ripped and torn tac pants he’s still wearing from the mission. Each breath rattles in and out across lips that are cracked and bleeding. Her eyes jump across him and she is seething, furious, ready to burn down th-) Ethan’s glare is still defiant when their eyes meet, and before he recognizes her he spits a wad of blood and saliva into her face. He starts to speak in a hoarse, raspy voice completely foreign to him “you might as well just kil-”

He cuts off as he realizes it’s her. Almost instantly his face collapses into the most profound display of grief and heartbreak and utter relief she’s ever seen. It’s an expression meant to be carved in marble, painted and displayed in a museum, or preserved in a book for all eternity but not on someone's face. Human beings aren’t supposed to look like that, especially not at her. Not for her, when she’s done so much wrong. There’s blood running from his bruised nose and congealing in the sparse hair on his lip. The smack she delivers to his face adds more to it. 

“Хуй!” She swears in Russian and wipes her face as she stands and pushes Ethan away. 

There is a simmering beast of rage burning within her. She has killed and tortured and maimed and done things that haunt her. Nothing will haunt her as much as the way his face instantly shuts off, all the emotion in his expression a moment before disappears. He doesn’t flinch or wince with the slap. Just takes it, and flops motionless to the ground. He’s nothing, a blank slate as if Ethan is gone, and here is his corpse. 

“This is the target.” Ilsa still speaks in Russian, accent perfect, with no hint that it’s not her native tongue. No hint of the swirling emotions within her. She nods to the prison warden. Alanna, face a perfect mask, passes the backpack stacked full of cash to him. 

“We can continue with the exchange then. I assure you, it’s all there. Couldn’t stay in the business like this if we didn’t ensure all terms were met on both sides.” Alanna says, perfect smile in place. Underneath it though, her skin has paled a shade. Shocked by the brutality Ethan has suffered. 

The man takes it, a slimy grin exposing yellow teeth as he hands it to another man who excuses himself to count it. 

“When my man confirms it you’re free to leave with him.” He rakes a dirty hand through his greasy hair and sends both women another nauseating smile. 

Only in your wildest dreams, Ilsa thinks as she nods to him again. She expected nothing less, to everyone else this is nothing more than a business transaction.

The room waits in silence, save for Ethan’s rattling breaths. She glances at the White Widow whose face has gone another shade paler as she looks more closely at Ethan. Her brother behind her looks grim but is no longer glaring at Ilsa. 

She refocuses on Ethan. He hasn’t moved since she slapped and pushed him back to the ground, hasn’t even turned his head so his face isn’t resting on the floor. His breaths begin to take on a wet quality and she steps over to him with less urgency than she feels. Ilsa pauses when she gets to him as if she’s considering, and carelessly uses her foot to push him up and onto his shoulder, the closest she can get him to the recovery position. 

“Can’t have you dying before my employers get their hands on you can we?” She says, her voice low as she crouches back in front of him, trying to meet his eyes and communicate with just a glance like they used to. His stare is dead ahead, eyes unfocused. There’s a small pool of blood where his face was just resting on the ground, more running from his nose and mouth. It’s concerning, but not enough to be immediately life-threatening alone. She’s not sure if paired with the rest of his injuries and the disassociation it’s a significant concern. 

She stays crouched by him, listening to his breathing and watching his chest rise and fall jerkily, winces as she can his broken ribs flex and expand under the skin that’s practically molded to them he’s so thin. 

Ilsa stands when the outer door opens and the man who counted the money nods. 

The warden looks at them, “It seems our terms have been met, the terrorist is yours. My men will move him to your vehicle. It’s a pleasure to do business with you, perhaps next time we’ll meet under more pleasurable circumstances.”

Ilsa wants to punch the man square in his smug face, maybe whip around his back and break his neck with her thighs. Instead, she nods and motions two guards forward. 

“Carry him. My employers will not appreciate any more damage to the goods.”

The warden translates, and there is a brief bickering back and forth before the guards begrudgingly scoop Ethan up by his feet and under his arms. It’s not a long walk to the roof of the compound, but it still concerns Ilsa that Ethan doesn’t move or flinch throughout the journey no matter how many times the guards carelessly let him bump into the walls of the corridor. 

Outside on the roof, the light rain from when they arrived has lifted, leaving the air damp and chilling to the bone. She instantly wants to shiver and pull her coat tighter around herself.

Ilsa points to the helicopter she arrived in, indicating where she wants the guards to set Ethan. They toss him in, none too gently. She dismisses them with a flick of her hand and they retreat back inside. She nods at Alanna and Zola, as they climb into their own helicopter.

Alanna has to shout over the sound of both helicopters spinning up, “I trust you’ll ensure he’s well healed by the time I need to call on the second half of my payment.”

Ilsa nods again, not needing another reminder of the other half of the agreement, “You have my guarantee.”

She nods to them in dismissal before ducking under the spinning rotors, stepping up into the helicopter, and sliding the door closed with a satisfying thunk when it latches. She reaches forward and taps Brandt, behind the stick of the chopper, on the shoulder, giving him the signal to fly to their first rendezvous point with Luther and Benji. His gaze is focused on Ethan, worry written in every wrinkle of his face. 

As gently as she can she rights Ethan, crouching on the floor and leaning him against the fuselage of the helicopter. He’s still out of it, gaze empty and unfocused. Ilsa blinks back sudden wetness in her eyes and swallows a choking feeling rising in her throat before dragging the first of the multiple medical bags towards her, fishing a pair of medical shears out of a front pocket. She begins to reach behind Ethan to cut the ropes on his hands when he makes an almost imperceptible sound of pain, barely audible over the sound of the helicopter as it lifts in the air. She’d have missed it if she wasn’t leaning over him. As quickly as she can she leans back, gently cradling his body to rest back against the fuselage. His eyes are red and bloodshot, one swollen, and the other already surrounded by bruising. But they are staring directly at her, locked onto her face, his expression a mix of fear and hope, an open book to her always. 

“Ilsa?” He asks in the same shattered voice as before. 

“Yes, it’s me. It’s me.” She drops the medical shears and cups his cheek with one hand, the other cradling the back of his head, her fingers tangling into his hair. 

Ethan is staring at her with so much intensity it’s almost overwhelming. Like she’s an oasis in the desert and he’s drinking her in, a dying man and she’s the thing he needs to survive. He leans his cheek into her palm, pressing into it and nosing into her wrist, eyes falling shut for the briefest moment before they snap open and he pulls his head up like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, eyes locked back on her. 

“You’re real? You’re alive? This is all real?” Ethan’s eyes are brimming with tears and he’s not even trying to blink them away, afraid she’ll disappear if he takes his gaze off of her for even a millisecond.  

She presses a kiss to his forehead, “It’s all real. I’m real, I’m alive. You’re alright, you’re okay.”

Ilsa swipes her thumb over the bruise under his eye, catching a tear as it falls and watching as his face crumples with relief. She pulls him into her, tucking his face into the side of her neck, pressing her own cheek on top of his head, one hand still tangled in his hair, holding. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. We’re both alive. You’ll be okay. The other arm wraps around him carefully, avoiding the worst of the wounds on his back and holding him close for the first time in five months, pressing them together, and wishing she could lay her claim on him. She’ll never be able to protect him entirely, but damn if she doesn’t wish she could. Soon she’s crying too, silent, as Ethan shakes in her hold. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. She thinks. 

They’re safe. Together. Alive. A weight she didn’t know was on her shoulders lifts, relief coursing through her so powerfully it leaves her feeling breathless, overwhelmed, and exhausted. There is a fine tremble running through her hands. She almost didn’t get this; holding him, kissing him, loving him.

The baby kicks, shifts inside of her and she holds back a gasp. The doctor who had performed the surgery on her leg had consulted an OB after confirming she was indeed pregnant. After the surgery, there had been conversations - what to expect and when, how often she should be coming in for check-ups, and more dietary and health recommendations for herself than she wanted to think about. The list had been endless, but she had been out of it with pain, grief over losing Ethan, and overwhelmed with shock that she was pregnant after a lifetime of being told she couldn’t conceive children. But now, thinking back, the doctor had told she’d start to feel kicks and movement around five months. Even with tears on her face, she smiles a bit. He’s already like his father with perfect timing. She presses more kisses to Ethan’s hair, making her way down his face with gentle touches of her lips to his skin, ghosting over his eye, trailing across his cheekbone, and collecting salty tears until she gets to his mouth. He surges up to meet her, pressing them together desperately and with more force than she thought he was capable of. Ilsa smiles into him, god she missed this. 

Meet your dad, little man, he’s the best of us. 

an: anyone catch the sneaky little line of dialogue i stole from rogue nation in there?? title of this fic and the lyrics at the beginning are from the war, by syml. also, xуй means dick in Russian

taglist (i made this from people who showed interest, please don't hesitate to ask to be removed (or added!!), absolutely no hard feelings): @valmare @thethistlegirl @alcafrach @izzypuppybutt

[lieutenantfloyd]

Happy Mission: Impossible teaser trailer day everyone!!

(Credit to tomcruisse62 on instagram)

[fishy-strawberries]

I want her, Lark 🤍

—

I know I’m slightly late to the I Prefer Girls redraw trend but consider, Ilsalanna is good for my soul ☺️

(This is on my main blog instead of my art blog on purpose! It just feels better here)

[doodledraw]

well...it's been a HOT SECOND and I almost forgot I hadn't posted this but I REMEMBERED so here we are :)) this is my piece for the @missionzine , which isn't out for the public yet but will be very soon. It's a companion piece to a fic I wrote for @shoesplease through a server exchange, which I also submitted as part of the zine!! :D

Hope you like this silly piece and the words as well, everyone!! <3

[veryace-ficrecs]

Mission Impossible Fic Recs Pt. 2

Link to Part one Here

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Orbit by steelneena - Rated G

Somehow, they always end up back in one another's orbit.

on sleepless roads the sleepless go by waveridden - Rated G

This is what Lindsey Farris remembers before she dies. (In which Ethan can see ghosts, and Lindsey gets to say goodbye.)

lost/looking by waveridden - Rated T

His lips flick up into something like a smile. “I saw your record, Agent Faust. You can figure it out. But only if you live long enough to do it.” (An Ethan/Ilsa roleswap.)

Hoping Against Odds by snovyda - Rated G

"A small part of him wanted to hope against all odds. It kept telling him that he couldn’t give up, that there had to be another way". Brandt's point of view during the parking garage scene in the end of Rogue Nation.

Knight in Shining Armour by why_am_i_pluto - Rated G

Brandt returns the favour when a mission goes wrong and Benji gets himself into a spot of trouble. One shot.

You're Worth the Risk by LadyM_17 - Rated T

After Ethan gets shot rescuing Benji, Benji confronts him about whether or not he's worth the risk. (Spoiler alert: he is.)

It's Alright by RandmWriter - Rated T

This time, Benji gets to be the one to save Ethan.

Consequences Of A Scarf by Cheeky_The_Monkey - Rated T

Post-Fallout. SPOILERS. IMF missions have taken a toll on Benji in many ways. It was only a matter of time before the rest of the team began to notice. ONESHOT

Nebulous by MidnightMoonWarrior - Rated G

After the events of Ghost Protocol, Benji isn't sleeping well. The team notices. A drabble of team views after their second official mission together, looking to the future after a crash course on teamwork that was the movie. Ft. Team-Dad-Hunt.

Milk Run by berlincorpography - Rated G

In some ways, Benji reflected, it was kind of nice to have normal problems for a change.

Stuck in the Middle by why_am_i_pluto - Rated T

Take a tech and an analyst then throw them down a pit. Mix in one cup of blood loss, a dose of concussions and a bucket load of time to kill. What would any pair of mature, grown men do?

follow me into the endless night / meet me in the woods tonight by biochemprincess - Rated G

Ethan Hunt grew up on a dairy farm.

[skiesoffoy]

was it worth it?

x

[airlocksandaviaries]

FIRST CHAPTER OF THE ORIGINAL MISSION IMPOSSIBLE MOVIE FIC IVE BEEN WORKING ON FOR A YEAR IS UP EVERYONE!!!

COME CHECK OUT MI 6.5!!!!!!!! It’s only 1k words for the first chapter not to worry, its a little taste and you can keep reading when I update if ya want more!!!

special thanks to @lannisterdaddyissues who helped me come up with the ideas!!!!

Taglist and details under the cut!

tagging @calkale  @liass-21  @doodledrawreblogs @helyiios LMK if you want me to take u off

Chapters: 1/16 Fandom: Mission: Impossible (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Benji Dunn & Ethan Hunt, Ilsa Faust & Ethan Hunt, Ethan Hunt & Luther Stickell Characters: Ethan Hunt, Ilsa Faust, Benji Dunn, Luther Stickell, William Brandt, Eugene Kittridge, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Action/Adventure, Found Family, Team as Family, Suspense, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Ethan Hunt, Soft Ethan Hunt, BAMF Benji Dunn, BAMF Ilsa Faust, Saving the World, Luther Stickell is a Badass, Luther Stickell is a Good Friend, Major Original Character(s) Summary:

It's been a year since the mission to the Siachen Glacier, when the team faced John Lark and Ethan was forced to take on his persona. The apostles are fragmented, lost without their leader, and things seem to be cooling down. Until, that is, information pops up about the group that supplied John Lark with the plutonium. They're back, and with a threat worse than ever before. Ethan's team is faced with a mission of infiltration and wits, and Ethan himself must take on a role that shakes him to his core...

An original Mission Impossible movie set in between Fallout and Dead Reckoning!

[vnessakrby]

she's not around (you let me know)

alanna × ilsa × grace • smut • [2/2]

[updated nsfw fanart + fanfiction]

[kitkat27]

Two Lines

Ilsa discovers life changing information but dealing with Lane again will have to come first …

Posted on ao3 - kit_kat_27

Thank you sooooo much to @justabigassnerd for putting up with me for the last couple of months while I’ve been writing. Couldn’t have done it without your support!

It will becoming a series hopefully (comment if you want on the taglist)

Please let me know what you guys think. I’ve not done a lot of romance and haven’t written for about 2 yrs so I’m a bit rusty. This is my first fic in this fandom, it’s one of the longest I’ve written and one of my first fight scenes. Ignore grammar and spelling mistakes. This will be posted on ao3 too !

Two lines. Two definite pink lines. Two lines blink back at her confirming her suspicions. Two lines that will now change her life from this exact moment.

Two lines that couldn't be erased. Lines that confirm her body was right. All the signs that she had been dodging confirmed her fears.

Fingers grazed against her abdomen, as if her fingers were scared if they lingered too long it would confirm her fears.

This had been at the bottom of her list, hell after being with the syndicate for two years it had been erased from it. And for finding out, a derelict safe house in rural Denmark was not the scenario she had thought of many years ago.

She had snagged the test the other week and let it burn a hole in her bag until she was going to pop under the pressure.

She'd finally given in to the pressure at the safehouse with the safety of knowing the boys wouldn't be back for another couple of hours.

But now she wasn’t sure what to do, sitting in the bathroom staring at the two pink lines. For once in her life she didn't have the next step already planned. She wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting there as the sounds of the boys inthe driveway indicated their return.

Not wanting Ethan to find out yet, she needed to wrap her brain around it first, she shoved the test down into the depths of her bag where she hoped it would stay hidden until she was ready to tell.

‐—--------------‐—-----------------

Solomon Lane was a name that kept appearing, though all four wished it didn't. Every time they thought they were done he would reappear.

And so they were, here again, staring at the computer each wishing that if the computer was closed and reopened it would be gone, and they could go back to chilling in their safe house.

But alas, they did. Brandt, who now made secretary, had sent them an email after word had gotten out that Lane had escaped Alana's grip and had not been handed over to MI6.

Nobody knew if either Alanna or the Mi6 had played a part in his escape. You can only trust a broker so much, Alanna would always think of herself no matter what she had promised.

But the wind was that he had escaped to Europe where some of his still, somehow, loyal followers remained. The organization was heading to a remote village in Kashmir threatening to release a nuclear bomb that would starve a third of the world's population.

Brandt was warning them to take these hints about Lane with a pinch of salt as it wasn't said who had given them this information and to approach the entire case with caution.

She was going to have to put telling Ethan, he would end the mission before it even started if she told him now the news on the back burner for now. If Lane found out they were carrying new information he wouldn't stop till he found.

————————————-

They split up once they reached the camp, Lane would stand out like a sore thumb in the remote village.

Ethan and Luther took to the nearby medical camp, leaving Benji and Ilsa to tackle the village. Ethan and Ilsa didn’t want to split, they worked better together but Lane would be wanting them to be together.

Once they reached the village, they split again to cover more ground while keeping each other in sight. Well, it was more Ilsa keeping an eye on Benji as she was concerned about Benji running into Lane alone again.

She knew he’d passed field tests and could hold his own, but he didn’t have the same skills or experience. She and Ethan had an unspoken agreement that they’d always put themselves in the firing line before Luther and Benji.

Making her way around the village, she did her best to stay under the radar. Lane had predicated all their movements but she had wanted to at least try to be in front. Out of the main village, on the outskirts, a lone house stood. Void of any women or children hanging outside, drawing her to it.

‘Benji, I may have a lead, stay close by and on comms. We'll draw attention if we both go ‘

Her fellow brit already began to panic at her evading the laid out plan, ‘‘Ilsa, you know what etha-’

‘Stay close by, I need to do this’ and with that, she blocked out the following Benji ramble.

Nothing on the outside balcony gave any clues to Lane. Pausing at the bottom of the steps, she could hear Benji arguing in her ear and threatening to switch on Ethan’s earpiece knowing he would stop this.

But she wanted to, no she needed to take on Lane herself.

She needed to find some form of closure from the years she worked in the syndicate, and the pain and torture he put her friends through.

Some closure for the nights she woke up screaming. All the years by herself, all the years alone, he needed to repay.

She made her way into the house. with each step she took her mind was on overdrive, her eyes darting back and forth making sure her six was covered.

Training would tell her that walking through an open door is a trap. Sweeping the first room, there was nothing in the house that wasn't covered in dust or had seen better days.

A blur of movement occurred in her peripheral vision of a figure moving to another room. Mentally apologizing to Ethan and the boys she followed.

The room was the same as the last a movement attracting her to a darkened section of the room causing her to turn aro-

A blinding pain across the back of her skull turned her vision white.

With the back of her head throbbing leaving her frozen, another blow to her lower back dropped her to the ground, the world turning black.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Ilsa, Ilsa. I know you can hear me. I'm a second away from calling Ethan’. This wasn't a good idea.

‘Ilsa you better respond’

Why couldn't Luther have gone with Ilsa, she listened to him the most. Luther was the only one who sometimes could reign her in these situations.

Ilsa’s tracker showed her around the edge of the village, where Lane would want her. He would know she would split from the group and that she would tackle him alone. Pulling out his phone he sent a message to Luther, warning of his worries without alerting Ethan.

He readied his gun as he spotted the lonely house in front of him. Why could the bad guys never be sitting in a coffee shop ready to hand themselves over after grabbing a latte?

Silence. The house was empty. 2 spies would be quiet but shouldn’t be completely silent.

Sweeping all the rooms in the house, the worry grew with every increasing minute he spent with no sign of Ilsa or Lane.

‘ Ilsa, Ilsa are you i-’, blood.

Blood. Ilsa’s gun.

Blood, a lot of blood for a spy who was the best of the best.

‘ Benji, where are you?’, shit Ethan.

‘ The house at the end of the village, Ilsa spotted Lane here and went after him. She’s-’, doing this over comms would be easier than face to face, ‘she’s not here Ethan. Lane has her, she's injured’

Ethan never panicked but he’d never had someone like Ilsa in his life before.

The one warning he had given to the team was to not take Lane on alone, especially Ilsa. She had failed tests towards the end of her undercover stint. She wouldn't be lucky the next time she ran into Lane alone.

Lane and Ilsa were stubborn and hot-headed, with an intense hatred for each other, what would happen when the two were reunited Ethan didn't want to know.

In the safe house in Denmark she had acted a little off, an unknown fear had flickered across her face when their time off in Denmark was being cut short.

Benji was waiting for them on the porch of the house, panic written over his face. He didn't waste time looking in the house, no point subjecting his heart to what she had gone through.

Circling the house there was almost nothing to go on until he came across faint footsteps leading away from the home to some soft tire tracks in the distance.

There were only 2 sets of prints, both too big for Ilsa. Lane had a plan in mind for another location. She would be no match for him unconscious and drugged. Luther and Benji hung back letting him decide on what to do next.

The tracks led deep into the mountains. Wasting no time in telling the other two what or where he was going, he began sprinting back to where they had left the car at the medical camp,

‘I’ll get you two as I come past’

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

A pounding pain pulsed at the back of her head. The first effort in opening her eyes sent a shockwave of pain around her skull. The second she managed to open them she noticed a figure sitting in front of her.

‘Nice of you to finally join me’. The figure chuckled, ‘It took a large amount of drugs to keep you knocked out. I trained you well.’

Lane.

A haggard version of the man she spent 2 years doing every bidding.

‘We’re owed a reunion and a rematch don't we, my dear Ilsa’. He took her face in his hands his callused hands tightening around her jaw, smirking she was putty in his hands.

‘You're not speaking my dear? I thought you'd have plenty to say to me’.

Heading towards the open door he turned at the doorway, ‘I'm gonna give you time to think until that pretty boyfriend of yours figures out where we are. Then I’ll be a man and kill you myself.’

Taking notice of her current predicament, she noted her ankles and wrists were bound tight, sores already forming.

As she was deciding on whether to dislocate her thumb, her wrist snagged on a sharp edge on the back of the chair. All the spy movies loved this cliché and for once she was glad it was happening.

She had to work fast, not knowing when Lane would come back into the hut. Her wrists released themselves from their binding, she immediately worked on releasing her legs fingernails beginning to bleed at the frantic speed at which she was working.

Click.

A loaded gun. The cold metal was placed against her forehead ‘My sweet Ilsa, I always am shown why Atlee chose you. You never disappoint’

Glancing upwards, she met Lane's eyes his gaze cold but joyful. He loved getting a rise out of those who crossed him.

‘I'm glad’

Neither of them moved both poised, when all of a sudden it was like a bullet had been fired and the fight began.

Drawing a knife from her boot, she lunged for Lane whilst grabbing his gun with the other hand. Knocking him backwards from the force of her attack, the gun falling from his grasp.

Swiping her blade aiming for his throat but taking any damage that would occur. The surprise of her attack quickly wore off, Lane began to block her attempts with his own.

A fist collided with her cheek and knocked her back a step. Another landing on her ribs sent an alarming crunch throughout the room.

She folded in on herself, exaggerating her pain from the broken ribs, waiting until he was close enough till she could grab a hold of his arm and use his momentum to flip him over her back.

Before Lane had a chance to react she threw herself on top of him wrapping her hands around his throat and applying all the pressure she could.

He scrambled underneath, fear in his eyes at the strength of her attack, attempting to rip her hands off him. She was squeezing with all her might but her power was in using her thighs to choke. Lane knew her inside and out she didn't want to be too predictable.

She was about to change tactics when a hand in her hair dragged her backwards with such force throwing her against the wall of the hut.

Not taking any time to find out who had joined, she kicked out at her attacker's legs. Swiping their feet, toppling them onto a winded Lane giving her the chance to run for it out the open door.

She had no plan but to run as far away as she could, Ethan was bound to be looking for her now. How far she would get she didn’t know, the pounding in her head was beginning to grow and the broken ribs were stealing her ability to breathe.

The sound of a twig snapping alerted her to someone coming up behind her, the drugs were making it harder and harder for her to react. Her body was now just running on pure fear to keep herself alive long enough for Ethan to find her.

Her new companion spun her around, her arms subconsciously wrapped themselves around her stomach, revealing their identity.

‘Trevligt att se dig igen. Du kommer inte bli lika lätt den här gången’.

Viktor. The bone doctor.

He had a talent for evading death. She wanted to either run or fight back but her limbs had suddenly become heavy. All she could do was watch Viktor as he got a firm grip on her arm and he plunged her own knife deep into her shoulder.

‘Karma är en jävel, eller hur? det gör väl ont ?’

All she could do was keep her body upright as he smirked at the blood pooling on her shoulder and grabbed the handle twisting the blade deeper. Blinding pain took over her body as she felt the blade twist deeper, she was not sure how much longer she could hold on.

‘ILSA !!!’, when did Ethan get here? She could barely see his figure moving towards her as her vision began to swim and her body felt like a lead weight as she fell to the ground protecting her stomach.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Pulling up over the top of the mountain, chaos and horror awaited him. Ilsa writhed in the grip of Viktor, his vicelike grip being the only thing that was keeping her upright. She wasnt fighting back, her arms hung loosely at her sides, there was no recognition of her knowing he was there her eyes glassy and unfocused.

The powerful, badass spy he normally knew was not the one he was currently running towards. A breath hair away from reaching Ilsa, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she dropped to the ground her body curling in on itself. Viktor let go as if she was a discarded ragdoll he no longer wanted to torture.

Resisting running to her side immediately, he focused on Viktor. He wasnt going to let him off lightly this time. He was going to make sure he was dead this time, and let one shot from his gun hit the centre of Viktor's heart dropping the swede instantly.

He didn't want to fight the man, it wasnt worth the risk of getting injured fighting a man double his height. Somehow Lane had slipped away again. Hopefully, for good, Ilsa was on the brink of death and he’d mentally manipulated Ethan, all everything he set out to achieve

The helicopter blades could be heard coming over the mountain top, Benji had mentioned as they drove that Julia was working at the medical camp, he must have sent a call for help as they reached the scene.

He wasn't gonna let go of Ilsa until they pried her out of his hands. Her body felt like glass in his hands, the blood flowing out of the knife wound wasn’t slowing her face getting paler as the seconds went on.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Looking at Ilsa’s results, something was wrong. Ilsa was above peak physical condition, nothing should show up abnormal. All standard tests, which included a pregnancy test for any female regardless, had been run and she should pass all.

Shit.

Her hCG levels were elevated.

Ilsa was pregnant. Ilsa was expecting Ethan's baby.

She was 3 months pregnant. This would explain why Ilsa's body fought them when she was brought in, her body was protecting the baby.

Grabbing the abdominal ultrasound she wondered if Ethan knew. Ilsa had broken down her walls around him but was this a wall that either had discussed? Ethan hadn’t mentioned anything when they rescued Ilsa and neither of the boys had shown signs of knowing.

Running the ultrasound over Ilsa’s stomach the relieving sound of the baby's heartbeat filled the small tent. Well, she hoped it was relieving, hell did Ilsa know herself?

She suspected she did from the Brit cradling her stomach as she drifted in and out of consciousness during the flight. The heartbeat was steady, the baby was safe and healthy which was lucky considering what Ilsa had been through in the last 24 hours.

The radio attached to her hip crackled to life announcing the helicopter making its way back with the rest of the team. They had to leave them behind to make room for them to work on Ilsa. Luther had to hold onto a struggling Ethan, who had fought with all his might to come with them.

She had about 5 minutes before they would get back to the tent, giving her enough time to pack any baby-related items away. She figured Ilsa needed to be the one to tell Ethan herself.

As she was busying herself with tidying, the heart rate of the British agent signalled she was beginning to ruse. Eyes flickered open to meet hers, pain whimpers followed as she came to.

With a hand on her none injured shoulder, she spoke softly ‘Ilsa, hey it's ok. It's Julia, you're in the med camp. You're injured from the kidnapping and fight, Ethan and the team are safe and are on their way.’

Once the meaning of her words sunk in, Ilsa began to calm. ‘ I, I…’

‘Don't push yourself, save your voice for Ethan’, striking blue eyes travelled along the spy’s own body taking note of the injuries and finally landing on her stomach.

Knowing the question she was thinking, she answered for her,

‘The baby is fine. You're about 12 weeks, I’ve not put it in your notes and told the team to not tell the others-’ Ilsa then met her eyes ‘- I figured you'd want to tell them’.

Hearing the helicopter land in the distance, she put the last piece of equipment away before turning back to Ilsa.

‘Whatever you decide to do, I'm here. Whatever is running through your head, ignore it, Ethan will be happy whatever you decide. He loves you and will support you through every step.’

Ilsa spoke for the first time since waking ‘Than- thank you, Julia. I want Ethan’

Returning the smile, she placed a gentle kiss on her friend's hairline ‘He’s arriving at the camp now, he’ll be here any minute’ before making her way out of the tent.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The helicopter hadn’t even turned its blades off before he was barreling out of it tearing along the path to the med tent.

Finding the main tent he bumped into Eric who was making his way out, grasping his arm as he passed ‘ It was touch and go, we did lose her once but she's ok. She’s asking for you.

She seemed at peace lying on the small hospital bed, monitors surrounding her, a rhythmic beeping sound. The sound reaffirms Eric's words, but he needed to see for himself.

A black eye and a bandage going from her eyebrow to the hairline adorned the left side of her face. A blanket was drawn up to mid chest leaving her shoulders bare showing the thick bandaging adorning where the knife had been mere hours ago.

Her eyes were closed but he knew she wasn't sleeping, she wouldn't until they were back in a safehouse. Reaching her side, he resisted reaching out; he didn't know what had happened between her and Lane.

As if she could read his mind, ‘It's ok, Ethan. I need you please’.

Avoiding the painful side of her face, he cupped her cheek in his hand and placed a gentle kiss on her lips which she faintly reciprocated.

His lips rested on hers as he placed his forehead tenderly against hers. Neither spoke for a while both basking in each other's touch.

The warmth of her skin under his, reminded him she was here. She was back with him. The warmth reminded him how close he had been to losing her up on the mountains.

Blue eyes met his, saying all the words she needed to say to put his mind at rest. That she was back with him and not to beat himself up.

Though the comfort in her eyes turned to concern, ‘Ethan, I. There’s something. I have something I need to tell you ’. There was an intense look on her face as if her thoughts were fighting with each other

He wasn’t sure what was happening. Since getting together both of them had worked together on communication with each other, good or bad.

Ilsa gazed off into the distance seemingly afraid to meet his eye contact. ‘ I was going to tell you back in Denmark but I didn’t want you knowing and risking Lane knowing too. I just need to know that whatever happens, you’ll stay here. Please don’t run as I’m just as scared as you.’

He kept quiet, instead reaching out to hold her hands stilling them from the anxiously fidgeting.

‘I. Ive been noticing symptoms for the last few weeks that i was putting down to the back to back missions, hoping that avoidingg them would make them go away. Ethan. Ive been late for the last few weeks. Ive been tired, hungry and nauseated all the time’, she finally looked back at him letting the words sink in.

He couldnt believe what she was telling him. His mind was numb, he had never thought about this step in his life. Neither of them had so it was inevitable the way they messed around.

The fear of his reaction was scaring her,‘Ethan please say something’.

He seemed lost in his head before that classic Ethan smile adorned his face ‘You’re… pregnant ? We’re having a baby ?’. He seemed to start vibrating with excitement as she guided his hand to rest on her stomach.

"We're having a baby Ethan. We’re becoming parents’

His other hand came to rest under her chin tilting her face towards him, keeping his other resting on her nonexistent bump ‘ I love you. I love you. Whatever you decide to do next I will support you every step of the way. I never thought I’d become a father, but I am so excited to take this path with you’

The emotions were too much to answer him so she pulled him to bring his lips to hers communcting her feelings to him. She was scared of what was to come in the coming months as she stepped into the world of motherhood but she knew that Ethan would be by her side every step of the way.

Swedish translation- nice to see you again. You won't be getting off as easy this time

“Karma is a bitch, isn't it. That hurts, doesn't it?

@radical-sky @izzypuppybutt @justabigassnerd

[wzyxz]

melt.

pairing: mission impossible x child!reader angst 2 fluff summary: two bad men kill your parents, so you’ve been stalking them ever since. one day, a team of people kill the bad men and take you to their base. that’s basically it. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the rubble of an abandoned and run down building, two men with guns have a hostage in the seat between them. It squirms around like a worm. I can see it, I can watch it all unfold and do nothing, or I can intervene. I’m a wuss, so obviously I sit still and quiet like a statue. My breaths are balancing carefully.

The men don’t see me. The men are bad. I remember watching them before, killing my parents and leaving me to rot and die slowly and hungrily. That is why I watch, to study their patterns and then get the sweetest revenge. I know I said I was a wuss, but I’m working on it, okay? 

Concrete surrounds me like a cage, but I cannot move or else I will be noticed and shot down immediately. One man begins to shout. “Where are they? I thought they would be here with the money by now!” The other man listens, processes, and squabbles back, “Alright, who do you think I am, Sherlock Holmes? How should I know where these dudes are? I’m just as upset as you are!”

They continue on about this for a long time. A long, long time. Every word that slips out of their mouths is laced with anger, frustration, and maybe even a bit of rage too. These dudes are ugly, though. Unshaven beards, messy hair, and they smell like sweat. Apparently, they’re holding this dude named Micheal hostage, and they’ve called the FBI or something to come and collect him for money. Like, a lot of money. Like, a billion dollars, a lot of money. 

Honestly, I dunno who this Micheal guy is, and no offense to him, but he’s probably not worth a billion dollars. 

As they squabble, the door opens slowly, softly, quietly, and three (I think) people step into the room. One of the bad men takes notice, cocks his gun and points. “Take another step and you get turned into a cherry slush.” In an instant, the room is silent and unmoving as if it had frozen solid.

Poor Micheal has suffered through so much. I see his fingers are skinless and raw, stripped down to muscle almost, due to his attempts at escape. Not to mention his breaths are uneven, a telltale sign of indescribable fear. His head bobbles slowly through the stillness.

Probably, he is shaking and scared. I’ve been shaky and scared many times. I’ve been like him before. I wish I could say I haven’t. 

These men, these terrible men, took away everything from me. Everything, from my food to my family to the bed I slept on, taken away just like that. Like wind had blown below me and carried everything that was mine far, far away. Smells, tastes, experiences come rushing back to me like a waterfall, and it’s almost sickening. My mind is overflowing and I think I’m starting to cry. But I can’t, because that is wuss behavior, and I am not a wuss anymore. At least, I’ll try not to be. While I think, I remember to watch. And now, I can see the fight. Apparently, I’d gotten so caught up on thinking I’d missed the entire fact that there was a WHOLE DAMN FIGHT going on right in front of me. A man in all black beats up bad man number one, throwing him to the floor and causing him to spit up violet red blood. Another dude in just a suit just stepped on bad man number two’s frickin face and CRUNCHED IT? Dear lord. Ew.  There’s blood every where, and even more is splurting out because mystery dude in all black keeps beating the crap out of bad man number one, no breaks and no breaths taken. Eventually, bad man number one’s ribs break and he dies or whatever, leaving a girl to take the shroud off Micheal’s head and lead him out of the room after cautiously inspecting him for any serious injuries. Black-wearing mystery dude tells other mystery dude “D’you think we should check to see if there are any more hostages here? These sssickos could be keeping millions in here for all we know.” He slurred his words lazily, exhausted from the amount of hard work he had gone through just then. “Sickos?” The other mystery dude replied. “Is that what you call kidnappers and mass-murderers? Jesus, Ethan, call them what they are for once.”  As the two search behind boxes and rubble, I realize my head has been throbbing the entire time. My vision begins to blur and my eyes start closing. This can't be happening. Although I try to fight it, the drowsiness begins to wash over me like the waves at the beach wash over sand.  Before I completely pass out, I see blurry figures move rubble out of the way to discover my limp, curled up body sprawled on the hard floor in absolute agony.

Waking up, I feel the floor shift and rumble below me. As I turn my head to look down, my forehead begins to sting so badly I want to cry. “Hey, no, no, don’t move your head a lot. It’s a bit messed up right now,” I hear a familiar voice speak softly to me. Just then, a warm, gloved hand slides under my chin and pulls my face up. Upon feeling the warmth and seeing the man’s face, I melt. It’s the same man in all black who’d crunched bad man number one’s ribs. Oddly enough, I get some strange sense of comfort that sizzled as if it were bacon on a frying pan. It runs throughout my veins and creates a system my life almost relies on. It feels like a warm hug, nice soup, a fluffy blanket, all those things oozing into each crevice of my mind. I try not to look at people in the eyes, though, because it makes me uncomfortable. “My name is Ethan Hunt, but you can just call me Ethan. I promise you’ll be alright, because you’re under the care of the best.” He winks at me, attempting to lighten the mood. “Is everything alright back there?” A deep voice called from the front of the car. “We’re good, Luther. They just woke up.” Again, Ethan turns to me with the softest expression ever, and yet again I melt.

So apparently, there’s this whole government agency or whatever going on called IMF, or Impossible Mission Force. These dudes who rescued me, Ethan, Benji, Ilsa, and Luther, are all apart of this agency and had been sent on a mission to take down the bad dudes and save the hostage. So, on the way to their safe-house or whatever, I had to tell them my tragic anime backstory. Unfortunately, they are concerned about my mental health. I hate it when that happens. Sure my parents were brutally mauled right in front of my poor, young eyes and I was left to die in an empty, cold house, but that isn’t necessarily bad, right? I’ll get over it. On the bumpy ride, I figured out I only melted when I looked at Ethan, which was weird and yet understandable. He gives me a very protective dad kind of vibe. Everyone else I’m not so sure about. All of the rest, I believe, have hints of poison covered by the masks of their smiles. It’s not that they are rude or evil, I’m just not sure about them.

Now that we’re in the base, Ethan holds his hand out to me. Slowly, my fingers wrap around his and I sigh, knowing I shouldn’t trust a stranger like this. But he’s the only thing I have. I miss being held in caring arms, tucked in a warm embrace. Instead, all thats left for me is the feeling of hunger. Hunger for the love of another person. As he leads down a hallway, Ethan reminds me to keep my head straight. My shoes pad softly against the floor below, not making a sound. I guess that’s why the team nicknamed me “Ghost,” because I’m usually so quiet nobody hears me at all. That’s what a year of spying on evil men who’d shoot you at once if they heard you speak, breathe, or make any noise in the slightest does to you.

We make a turn to the left, stepping into a room neatly decorated in mostly white. The bed, which has light grey covers, is carefully made. A nightstand sits right next to it with a Himalayan salt lamp placed on top. The walls are decorated in plain ivory tapestry and wooden shelves with knickknacks lining them. A bean bag chair, the color of a perfect night sky, laid idly in a corner of the room next to a bookshelf filled with lengthy and sophisticated-looking books. At least, lengthier than what I usually read anyways. The decor was immaculate, and I slowly began to realize this room was for me. “Okay, this is our guest room. You can stay here, make yourself at home. Take off your backpack and put it down somewhere. I’ll be out here, looking up your records and telling my agency about your arrival.“

When he closes the door, leaving me inside the room, I remember my backpack. I always keep a backpack with me, containing medical supplies, art supplies, and small rations of food and water. That’s just how it is when you’re traveling everywhere alongside two dudes who don’t know you still exist.  My hands reach to my shoulders, pulling off the sleeves of my backpack from my back. Placing it down on the floor next to the nightstand, I remember how little sleep I’d gotten in the past week. Deciding to go to sleep, I crawl weakly into the bed and immediately drift into the sweetness of near unconciousness.

Cold hands wrap around my sides. I feel it and yelp out. My eyes shoot open as small beads of sweat begin to form on my temples. In front of me, I see Benji, holding his hands out in confusion. “Sorry, Ghost! I- uhm- we were starting to watch a movie and then- uhm- Ethan told me to come get you and take you to the living room where we were so that he could make sure you were okay. I didn’t mean to disturb you!” He apologizes profusely and I just stare at him with a nervous expression. “Well, maybe, you’d like to join us for the movie…?” I weigh the options in my mind. I could get some more sleep in this comfy bed, which would be pretty nice honestly, or I could watch a movie with a man who I think might be a new dad to me, which was also nice. Maybe I should spend time with Ethan and the team, I might be here for a while. Plus, it might get that weird feeling of mine out of the way. The one that makes me feel like Ilsa, Benji, and Luther are all untrustworthy liars. So, I nod my approval and begin to get up. “No! Ethan said that he didn’t want you messing up your head walking there, but since it doesn’t seem like I’ll be close to picking you up any time soon, I’m just gonna go get Ethan.” Benji began trotting out of the room, again leaving me alone in an awkward, impatient silence. Ethan is the only touch I feel comfortable with currently, since I am beginning to know it so well. My brain starts drifting off into sleep mode when suddenly Ethan walks into my room. “C‘mon sleepyhead, up you get!” He whispers softly. I felt my body being lifted into the air and then a sudden warmth being pressed against my side. The entire world started to shift as everything blows past me.  Before I knew it, (probably because I started to doze off) I was on the couch facing a wide TV. Ethan was sat down next to me, patting my head and smiling. He turns to the movie, which movie I do not know, partly due to the fact I am so, so tired. Slowly, slowly, I realize I kind of just want to sleep. Against most of my better judgement, I curl up against Ethan, my head beginning to nestle into his stomach. The amount of joy I feel rivals all of my survival instincts, but then everything was starting to sluggishly melt away like pouring honey. “Goodnight, guys,” I thought to myself as the world around me faded into black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ haha this took me so long??? anyways tysm anon for requesting this it was super fun to write! hope u like it!

[snonkerdoodlewritesstuff]

*pinches ears*

[violetvrataski]

𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! ₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

𝘩𝘪! 𝘪'𝘮 𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘖3 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴! 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢!

𝙠𝙚𝙮: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧/𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 = 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 & 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧 = 𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥

𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢/𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢/𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳/𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘺/𝘱𝘦𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 & 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢 & 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘵

𝘪𝘭𝘴𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘵/𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵 & 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢 𝘷𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪/𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮 𝘤𝘢𝘨𝘦

𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳/𝘤𝘩𝘭𝘰𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘩 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘴/𝘢𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘴𝘢

𝘢𝘮𝘺 / 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦

𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘰 / 𝘫𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢

𝘳𝘰𝘯 & 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 & 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 & 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦

so, yeah! that's about it! please do message me for any inquires!

[cakexblankett]

Tag

Yellow

Character

Ilsa Faust

Words

1.197

~•~

You lazily opened your eyes, the light entering the room from the opened window, a gust of wind making the curtains sway gently. The small room looked a mess, with various papers moving because of the wind, your clothes all over the floor. You closed your eyes, smiling, thinking of the night that just passed. Ilsa was a phenomenon, not only as a spy but also as a lover. You hummed, extending an arm, reaching for her, but all you found was the bare sheets on which you layed. You immediately jolted upright, scanning, once again, the room. No sight of her.

"Ilsa?"

You shouted for her, getting up. You got no answer. Your heart began racing, faster and faster, just like your feet, as you ran down the stairs and into the hallway, searching for her in every room.

"Ilsa!?"

You screamed at the top of your lungs, panick rising with every and each breath you took. You looked everywhere, in every room, in every closet, in every hiding spot, but nothing. She was nowhere to be found. You collapsed on the kitchen floor, tears streaming down your face. What had happened? Did someone found her?

You had been hiding for a couple of months now, and nobody seemed to even fathom your whereabouts. But maybe you were wrong, maybe they knew all along, ready to strike just at the right moment, to take her away from you. And you weren't ready. You were weak, unprepared, and now she was gone.

You got up, your eyes stinging from the tears welling up. And then the fron door opened slowly, creacking. You instictively took a knife, preparing for battle. You hid behind the kitchen door, waiting. You felt them moving towards you, the sound of their feet coming closer and closer until...

"Woah there!"

You were prepared to struck the knife into the skull of whoever was the intruder just to find her laughing at you. You sighed, putting down the knife on the kitchen table. You punched her softly on the arm.

"You're a moron! I could have killed you!"

She kissed you, still giggling.

"Yeah, you could have. That's what I like about my women: the ability to kill."

You scoffed, helping her with the groceries.

"How many times do I have to tell you that-"

"We don't leave eachother alone. Ever."

You gave her an agry look, and she shook her shoulders.

"I know, but I couldn't sleep so I thought I might as well efficiently use my time. Plus..."

She took the knife you previously held and scrutinesed it.

"You told me yourself. You could have killed me, if I wasn't me. So you can bare being alone for a while."

"No."

She stared at you, trying to decipher your thoughts.

""No" what?"

"I can't. I can't be alone. I can't stay without you."

She smiled. You loved her smile, when it was genuine. She often faked her smiles and her laughes and... well... everything. But, when with you, she tried to be as authentic as possible. And now she was, you could tell. She was happy, as happy as one can be on the run from any form of government. But you two were happy, living a simple and quiet life, away from others.

But the thought of losing her seldom made its way in your mind. And you hated it, you hated the feeling that, someday, you will might lose her. But that made your relationship all too special. Every moment was precious, because it might be the last. So you learned to make the most of everything, living in the moment.

"I can't stay without you either."

She confessed, averting her eyes, taking an apple from the groceries bag, but before she could bite down on it, you locked her in a kiss. Your hands on each side if her face, your eyes closed. You thought of everything she did to you, of everything she did for you, and you remembered how much you loved her.

"Hey..."

She whispered on your lips, interrupting the kiss. You hummed, waiting for her to continue.

"I love you..."

Your heart lost a beat. You knew it, you always knew, she didn't have to say it aloud to make you realise it but hearing it, said with that sweet voice of her...

"I love you too."

You kissed again, hungrily. Your hands roaming eachothers bodies, shamefully trying to get rid of all the clothes that separated your skin from hers.

"Y/N..."

You moaned, feeling her tongue battling with yours. Then she stopped, and backed up a little. You eyed her, confused.

"Is there something wrong-"

She silenced you, covering your mouth with a hand. She scanned the suroundings, alert. You did the same, founding nothing.

"I heard something..."

She whispered, taking the knife and exiting the kitchen. You mimicked her, taking another knife and following her closely outside. The sun hit you and you had to shelter your eyes with a hand, never letting down your guard. Ilsa was in front of you, stretching one arm before you, to shelter you from any kind of danger. You suddenly heard steps on your right, so you focused all your attention on that direction.

"Ilsa..."

She followed your gaze, squinting her eyes to better visualise the perimeter.

"Stay here."

She started approaching whatever was making the noise when you saw it. Someone was pointing a gun in her direction from a distance. The sounds were a bait. Everything was planned. You screamed.

"Ilsa!"

Bang!

Your eyes were fixed on her.

Bang!

At first you thought they missed.

Bang!

But then you saw her collaps on the ground.

Bang!

And then nothing. You heard nothing, you saw nothing apart from her, laying there, amidst the bushes and trees. Tears started streaming down your face. You screamed but you couldn't hear it. You ran to her, forgetting of the person who shot her.

"Ilsa!"

Your hands trembled, you were shaking, barely breathing. You took her in your arms, looking for the wound. Right on her chest, the blood colouring her beige shirt of a red shade. You put one hand on that spot, adding pressure, to stop the bleeding, but it was futile. Her blue eyes were already lifeless.

"Ilsa..."

You started sobbing. It was all your fault. She was gone. You couldn't live without her, you just couldn't. You kissed her on the forehead, closing her eyes. She was...

No. It was all a joke. You laughed. Yes, it must be a cruel prank. Maybe Hunt was involved. But then you gazed at the wound again, a visible mark that it was, in fact, real. And so you started crying again. You were fragile, you needed her in your life. Because you loved her. And you realised you didn't say enough, and now she was dead and she will never hear those words again.

"I love you. I'm sorry. I love you. Please, don't leave..."

But she couldn't hear you, because she was dead. And you were too, because your heart, and a part of you, died with her.

[shipperoffanonships]

PART 2!

Title: From The Ashes, A Phoenix Rises (Chapter 2)

"Hey, Ethan." The woman Ethan thought was long dead and gone said rather timidly. Ethan was at loss for words.

"I-how-" 

"Well, I believe my brother and I are no longer of use, so this is where we say goodbye. Just contact me when Gabriel is dead, and consider the debt paid." Alanna said as she stood up, nodding at Ethan and the others. Ethan yanked Ilsa into a tight hug that made the woman squeak.

"Ethan, as flattered as I am, I can't breathe." She gasped. "And I missed you too, don't worry."

Ethan stepped back, looking at Ilsa from head to toe several times. "You're here. You're really here."

Ilsa smiled. "And here to stay." 

"Well, will you look at that. For once a plan went seamlessly." Benji joked. Ethan tensed, slowly turning.

"What do you mean, 'a plan went seamlessly'? Is there something I'm missing?"

Instantly the atmosphere of the room changed. Benji and Luther suddenly found the floor interesting, Grace was once again clueless, and Ilsa tried to reach out for him. But Ethan stepped away.

"Answer me. Now." Ethan growled. 

"You might want to sit down for this." Ilsa said. "You see..."

Ethan was practically fuming once Benji and Ilsa finished explaining what happened.

"So all this time," Ethan said, "all this time that I've been grieving, thinking you were dead, you were alive and in hiding? And with the White Widow, of all people!" He turned towards Grace. "And you? Were you in this scheme as well?"

Grace shook her head. "This is the first time I'm hearing of this. But it makes sense now."

Ethan knit his brows. "What makes sense?"

"Well, the Widow fought oddly. It's like she wasn't fighting at all. She left areas of her body open as if she wanted to be subdued."

"Well, we agreed that she should still do everything that happened." Ilsa admitted. Ethan slid his chair back. 

"I need to get some air." He went upstairs, and they all winced as a door slammed shut.

"Well, that could've gone better." Luther muttered.

"I'll go talk to him." Ilsa said after a few minutes later.

Ilsa took a deep breath before knocking.

"Ethan? It's me. May I come in?" She opened the door to see Ethan sitting on the bed, staring blankly into space but clearly pissed off. Ilsa sat beside him, taking his hand.

"I'm sorry for leaving you in the dark."

Ethan turned to face her. "But we could've come up with something else."

"That's exactly my reason. What we did was the only surefire way of me surviving. We have to trick the Entity into thinking that I died. That's why I stayed with the Widow until the whole thing blew over."

Ethan scrubbed his face. "It's just, every  time I begin to put my trust in you, you let me down. You do something that makes me question my choice. If we are to work together, we have to be able to trust each other. No more secrets."

"No more secrets." Ilsa agreed. "From this moment forward, complete transparency between us."

"And the team." Ethan said. Ilsa gave him a smile, not so innocently this time.

"We can't have them knowing everything now, can we?" The woman whispered, chuckling at Ethan's confused look.

"All right," Ilsa said, "update me. What's happened so far?"

"Well, Gabriel was duped by Grace. He holds a drive instead of the key to the Entity. So it's safe to say he's after us. And that works to our advantage because-"

"-we control the events from here on out." Ilsa finished Ethan's statement.

"Exactly. So, as unproductive as it may sound, we wait for him to find us before we go after the Entity and shut the whole thing down once and for all."

"And hope that we'll never have to save the world again." Benji added.

"Yes. Because I have no idea how you guys are able to do this regularly." Grace replied.

"Well, it's simple. Create a plan, and if that doesn't work, screw everything and just wing it." Luther said. Ilsa laughed.

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. But jokes aside, duped or not, Gabriel must be stopped, killed if necessary. Downside is we can't use comms or any similar gadgets in the field."

"What are you saying?" Benji asked. "That-"

"We go in blind?" Ethan asked. "Ilsa, are you-"

Ilsa raised an eyebrow. "Remember the last time we used devices? Like it or not going old-school is our best chance of that son of a bitch."

A few days later...

Ethan and Gabriel faced each other.

"Where is the key?" Gabriel hissed.

"Certainly not with me." Ethan replied. Without warning he struck. A jab to the throat sent Gabriel stumbling back. The man in turn drew out a knife, and this time Ethan was forced on the defensive. After a few minutes Gabriel finally had the upper hand. He caught Ethan in a headlock, knife digging on Ethan's neck.

"This is the same knife, you know. The same knife I used to kill her." Gabriel gloated. Someone chuckled.

"Next time- although there will be no next time once Ethan and I are done with you- check for a body first, yes?"

Then Ilsa was there, a smirk on her face. She gave Ethan a nod, who snapped his head back, causing Gabriel to lose his grip. Ethan grabbed the other man b6 the wrist and swung him around, just in time for Ilsa to land a solid hook. Then they were a flurry of limbs as the three fought. Even though outnumbered, Gabriel managed to hold his own, even managing to remove Ethan, leaving Gabriel and Ilsa. 

"This time you die." Gabriel hissed, before lunging. Ilsa drew out her sword and parried Gabriel's slash, the sound of steel clashing against steel resounding in the alley. Small as the weapon was, Gabriel was stronger, and he disarmed Ilsa, her sword flying out of reach. Gabriel kicked her hard enough that she was slammed against the wall, coughing as the wind got knocked out of her. Ilsa yelped as she saw the knife heading for her heart. She grabbed Gabriel's wrist, stopping him just in time. Glaring at the man, Ilsa slammed her forehead against his hard enough for him to stagger back. From behind him Ilsa saw Ethan, who was just coming to. Ilsa jerked her head, and Ethan caught the move. He barreled into Gabriel, the two of them grappling and fighting for the knife in Gabriel's hand. Frantically Ilsa looked around, looking for her sword. There. She ran for it, returning just in time to see Gabriel plunge his dagger on Ethan's chest.

"NO!" Snarling, Ilsa struck, a whirlwind of black and silver as she bore down on Gabriel, and this time she was the one who disarmed him. Ilsa saw Ethan get up. A split second later Gabriel froze, a grunt of pain escaping him. Only then did Ilsa notice the knife sticking to the man's side. Without missing a beat Ilsa drove her sword through Gabriel's abdomen down to the hilt, before yanking it out. Gabriel fell on his face before rolling over to his back, wheezing.

"I guess this isn't part of the Entity's plan, now, is it?" Ilsa sneered, before rushing towards Ethan, who was slumped on the wall. Much to Ilsa's confusion there was no blood in the area where Ethan was stabbed.

"Vest." Ethan wheezed, "I was wearing a vest. Shit, that hurt." He took several deep breaths before righting himself. Behind her Ilsa heard Gabriel gasping for breath.

"Oh, for God's sake." 

Ilsa walked over and, unsheathing her sword, brought it down Gabriel's neck thrice, blood spraying all over her black trench coat.

"I think you overdid it." Ethan said as he came over to stand next to Ilsa, looking down at Gabriel's decapitated corpse. Ilsa frowned.

"Yes. It seems we did quite a bit of a mess."

A week later

"As far as world-ending crises go, what happened might just be the worst et," Benji said. They were outside a restaurant, all five of them- Ethan, Ilsa, Benji, Luther, and Grace- gathered in a well-deserved downtime. "And that's coming from someone who had been forced to wear a bomb and got hanged by the same person on two separate occasions."

"What?" Grace said, a puzzled look on her face.

Ethan laughed. "Long story. So, what now?"

"I, for one, am retiring. For good." Luther said. "I am getting too old for this."

Benji nodded. "Amen to that. I shall be taking an indefinite leave as well. So, until the next catastrophe."

"Which I hope will not happen again" Ilsa added, earning laughs from all of them. Benji and Luther took their respective farewells, leaving Ethan and Ilsa with Grace.

"Where will you go now?" llsa asked Grace, who shrugged.

"I have no idea, honestly. So much have happened and much have changed. I guess I'll just see where life takes me. How about you two?"

Ethan sighed. "Taking things day by day."

"Hmm. Well, I guess this is goodbye. You two should hope we never cross paths again."

"All the same, I hope we do. It was an honor meeting you, Grace." Ethan said, Ilsa nodding in assent. Grace left, leaving Ethan and Ilsa together.

"Offer still stands, you know." Ilsa said quietly. Ethan looked at her, confused.

"Getting out. You know, leave everyone behind. The IMF, the responsibilities, us."

"Us? Ethan echoed.

"We can be anyone. We can bury Ethan Hunt and Ilsa Faust and be completely different people."

"It's only a matter of going." Ethan murmured. He took Ilsa's hand, small and slender against his own.

"Yes." Ilsa said softly. "It is." 

Ethan looked Ilsa in the eyes.

"Any destination in mind?" 

Ilsa grinned.

[izzypuppybutt]

So I did a thing. 

This ship is finally what made me write and publish my very first fic ever. Because this ship is in such poverty of fanworks 🤣

Enjoy. Feedbacks and reviews appreciated plss. 

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ilsa Faust/Ethan Hunt Characters: Ethan Hunt, Ilsa Faust, Benji Dunn, Luther Stickell, William Brandt, Jane Carter (Mission: Impossible) Additional Tags: Pregnancy, Childbirth, Graphic description of birth, is it graphic though but I'll include just in case, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Oneshot Summary:

Ethan and Ilsa found themselves having to undertake the most important, but not impossible, mission in their life yet: delivering their first baby by themselves.

[veryace-ficrecs]

Benthan First Kiss Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

The Art of Deception by windatyourback - Rated T

Benji’s learnt is that all it takes is one mission to knock a screw loose. But it doesn’t matter how well you can shoot a gun, or drive a car, or pretend to be somebody else – if the agency has even the shadow of a doubt that you might absolutely lose your shit during it, then you’re a liability. And liabilities don’t go out in the field, period. With bombs being strapped to his chest and nooses being hung around his neck, Benji can't help but feel world is out to get him. Amidst this, Ethan Hunt becomes his best friend -- and then, something more.

houston, do you copy? by ORiley42 - Rated T

soulmates! in! spaaaaace!!

The Proof in the Pudding by Three_Oaks - Rated T

Five times Ethan came to Benji's bakery, and one time Benji decided to come to him.

Focal Point by McKat - Rated T

Benji and Ethan coming to terms with their own feelings for each other, to the tune of a mission going bad.

Point of No Return by fictionallemons - Rated M

Ethan might be dead, and Benji might have accidentally declared his feelings for him over comms.

like real people by alecjbi - Rated T

five times benji and ethan almost kiss, and the time they finally do.

Let Me Love You by fictionallemons - Rated M

When Benji goes as Jane's date to her ex's wedding, she challenges him to reveal his feelings to Ethan. After all, Benji's the bravest one of them.

Until the End of Their Time by badgerhuan - Rated G

Benji has lost count of how many times he and Ethan had been married.  --x Or, the one where they let things fall naturally. Prompt was Fake Married au.

Whole by Three_Oaks - Rated M

Have you thought about hurting yourself or others?

My take on what was supposed to be Benji's line at the airport, how he got there, and what happens after

I'm With You by fictionallemons - Rated E

Luther's getting married again at a private resort on a tropical island. Only there's a mixup with the rooms and Benji and Ethan have to share. No big deal, right? One bed. Two friends. No problem. Ha.

with my feelings on fire (guess i'm a bad liar) by Baebadook - Rated T

Getting stuck together in increasingly tiny places was just another Saturday afternoon for them now. And he was trying, not for the first time that month, to avoid thinking about just how cozy they were. How easy it would be to kiss one another. Basically five times Ethan and Benji get stuck together or in exceedingly teeny spaces.

magnetic field being a little too strong by oopshidaisy - Rated T

“This is strictly recon,” Ethan says. It’s maybe the seventeenth time he’s said words to this effect since they arrived at the party. “We can’t do anything that’ll raise suspicion. Understand?” Post-Rogue Nation. Benji and Ethan go undercover and find themselves in one of those spy jams that only surprise kissing can solve.

Convergence by AccusedNickel - Rated G

It was impossible for Benji Dunn to think of a time when he wasn't, in some way, entirely infatuated with Ethan. There was no alternate reality where he hadn't fallen for the other agent- their paths seemed set to cross at some point. Call it fate, call it destiny. Whatever it was it inevitably led to this. Ethan, right there, as steady and charming as ever, and Benji, right there with him, too afraid to confess. OR, in simpler terms: Five times Benji and Ethan have an incomplete intimate moment, and one time everything falls into place, just as it should.