hi everyone, my name is beebs and this is my first ever fanfiction account!!
fandoms: harry potter, the pitt, mission impossible, lotr/the hobbit, divergent, detroit become human, stranger things, aot, monk, twin peaks, dead poets society, divergent, the hunger games, and so much more!!
what i will write: fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, and maybe a little spice (but not full-on smut)
what i wont write: smut, r*pe, graphic depictions of violence, or anything related to extreme abuse! i'm not comfortable writing these things (and i don't think i'd know how to write them anyways)
the world cup has made me down bad for so many football players. memo ochoa, neymar jr, lucas bergvall, jude bellingham, jordan pickford, anthony gordon, declan rice, pablo gavi, pedri, mbappe, scott mctominay, orlando gill, cho gue sung, LITERALLY EVERYONE
like im genuinely tempted to write self-insert fics about them...
𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: a fake wedding ring for a mission and a crowded ballroom. benji dunn has spent months burying his feelings for you, but when the beatles' song "something" starts to play, he decides to stop pretending. this whole mission is a lie, this whole world really, but he finally lets you know that his love for you is beautifully real. influenced by the song "something" by the beatles!!
𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1231
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔/𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔: female reader / fluff / some angst if you squint / friends to lovers / some swear words / both povs
𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: hiii, this is my first time ever posting (or even writing) a fanfic, but there's barely any fics of this cutie so i had to take things into my own hands. again, this is my first time actually writing a fic, so sorry if he's out of character and any spelling/grammar mistakes...anyways, any tips or feedback is greatly appreciated!! hope u enjoy <33
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𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒊'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒗:
benji was leaning against a column trying his best to blend in with the elaborate marble, his gaze fixed on you. the ballroom was a sea of glittering tuxedos and gowns, but all he could see was you, and he couldn't tear his eyes away.
god, you were beautiful. your elegant dress and the way you confidently moved through the crowd drove him insane. he watched as you flashed a charming smile at an ambassador, softly laughing at the joke that he made. his jaw tensed as he felt jealousy twist in his stomach.
he knew it was all a carefully constructed disguise for the mission, down to the very last detail, including your "engagement" ring. the simple gold band on your left-hand, with its single, average-sized diamond was provided by the IMF, "proof" of your pretend marriage.
earlier during the party, you had held his hand, your fingers gently lacing his as you navigated a conversation with one of the party guests. it was a gesture meant to reinforce your cover story. he glanced down at your intertwined hands, watching the light from chandelier glitter down to your ring, the diamond shimmering softly on your finger.
in that fleeting, selfish moment, he couldn't help but wish it was all real. he wished that ring was a symbol of something else—a symbol that proved he had finally found the courage to confess his love, and where he was the one who had knelt and put that stupid ring on your finger.
and honestly? benji would have gotten you a much better one, not a simple, store-bought diamond provided for the job. he would have spend months searching for the perfect one, a unique gem he would have custom-cut and set, maybe even put a tiny, untraceable tracker in the band just because he could (he can’t really guarantee your safety in this line of work). he would have given you a ring that was priceless, something that was yours and yours alone, something that showed you that his love was unbelievably real in this world full of lies.
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𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒐𝒗:
you moved through the crowd with practiced grace, a polite smile plastered on your face as you nodded at the ambassador’s empty conversation. your had a glowing presence, but you felt more like a firefly trapped in a jar. the elegant dress was a beautiful cage, and the “wedding ring” felt heavy on your finger, a constant, sharp reminder of a truth that wasn’t. your gaze kept drifting back to benji, he was leaning against a pillar, trying to look casual, but you knew him too well. he was on edge, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on you. the sight made a strange knot form in your stomach–a mix of affection and a dull ache fro the things you couldn’t have.
you had held his hand earlier, lacing your fingers with his to sell the cover story. the warmth of his touch had been startling, almost distracting. you caught him looking down at your hand, his eyes lingering on the IMF-issued diamond. you knew he saw the fake ring, but you wondered if he also saw the real feelings in your heart. you had to look away before he saw the truth in your eyes, but the moment replayed in your head, a tiny, treasured scene in the middle of a big, fake production.
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𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒊'𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒗:
the background jazz gave way to the unmistakable, warm guitar riff of The Beatles. as the familiar notes of “something” filled the air, he saw you look at him and smile, a silent question in your eyes. he straightened up, a small, genuine grin finally touching his lips. it was the same thought that hit him every time he saw you: you had a way of moving and looking and smiling that was just…something. he’d never been able to put it into words, but The Beatles had already done it for him.
without a word, he walked over to you and took your hand in his. he led you onto the dance floor, pulling you close as the first line of the song began. he moved with a practiced ease you hadn’t expected, his hand resting light and sure on your back, the other holding yours. you swayed together, lost in the music and the moment, the rest of the world and the mission fading away.
“perfect song, right?” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear it. he looked down at you, and the sincerity in his eyes made your breath catch.
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𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒐𝒗:
you knew he knew. ever since you had told him about your father dedicating this song to your mother, and your hope for a love like theirs, he would play it for you during car rides to the bunker. the fact that this song was playing now, in this moment, felt like fate. it was like a secret language between the two of you, and it made the small, sincere smile on his face feel like the most beautiful thing in the world.
"it is," you whispered back, a smile spreading across your face. "our song?"
he didn't answer. he just tightened his grip on your hand and pulled you impossibly closer. he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, "i know this is bad timing."
you barely had time to wonder what he was going to say before he spoke again, his voice strained and quiet.
you barely had time to wonder what he meant before he spoke again, his breath warm against your skin. "I keep trying to remember the mission profile. I keep trying to tell myself that I’m just playing a part... that I'm just 'the husband' for the night."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes made your heart lurch. the playful, tech-genius mask was completely gone.
"but then this song starts," he whispered, his gaze dropping to the gold band on your finger. "and as selfish as it is, I realized that I don't care about the ambassador, or the files, or the exits. I just care that you're wearing a ring that I didn't get to choose for you. I care that I'm only allowed to hold you like this because a briefing told us to."
He moved with you to the music, his hand sure on your back, but his voice was trembling.
"It’s driving me insane, being this close and having it all be a lie. because when I look at you–when you smile at me like that–it’s the only real thing I’ve felt in years."
he leaned in again, his forehead resting against yours.
"when we get out of here, I want to take this off," he breathed, his hand ghosting over the fake diamond. "not because the mission is over. but because I want to replace it with something that actually belongs to us. something that isn't a disguise."
he didn't wait for you to pull away, because you didn’t. you just held him closer, letting the last notes of the song shield the truth of what he’d just confessed. for the first time, the "wedding ring" didn't feel like a heavy weight. instead, it felt like a countdown to the moment you could finally be real with him.
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notes: wahhhhh i love benji sm omg. i really hope you enjoyed this cute little story! ik this fandom is lowkey dead, so please please please leave a comment if you want more benji/mission: impossible related fics!! and writing tips are greatly appreciated <33
sometimes the best fanfics are written by middle aged adults with years of writing experience who simply know how to craft a good story. but also sometimes the best fanfics are written by a sixteen year old girl with something deeply wrong with her
trade secret, the middle aged adults with years of writing experience are just the sixteen year old girl with something deeply wrong with her but all grown up
sixteen year old girls who feel deeply fucked up: we’re your future. you make it. you get some therapy, get some meds, find new fandom friends, and keep writing. hang in there.
Even if you stop writing for a long time. Even if you think your writing days are over and your muse is gone. Something will come along and grab you and shake you to your soul, and you’ll find your muse again.
