Here's my masterlist!! I'll update as a post more! My requests are pretty much always open but if I get too many at once it might take me a while to finish. I write for pretty much any Hardy character!
Now, before any of you are going to wonder what kind of psycho I am, let me explain why this came up in the dark corners of my mind.
So, in Inception, we basically get little info about Eames. All we know is his surname and that he’s a damn splendid trickster. What is his story? What did he do before Dom approached him and the events of the movie took place?
Who is Eames?
I know I’m heavily diverging from canon here, but that very question spawned a concept I can’t stop thinking about.
Prof!Eames who stalks the cam girl he’s obsessed with and so happens to be one of his students.
*sips her coffee* Yeah, I know. But hear me out.
His online username is GentlemanSir.
He went to great lengths to grab your attention. Making multiple donations during streams, sending gifts and letters to your P.O. box, instructing the barista at the café you frequent to give you handwritten notes with your coffee but remain silent about him being the secret messenger.
Truth be told, he actually gets off on the idea he holds financial dominance over you.
Eames remembers fondly the absolutely flabbergasted expression on your face, the haze of pleasure temporarily lifted, when he donated once again a sum of money running into the hundreds.
It wasn’t so much the number that caught your eye. No, it was the message.
‘For groceries and to buy something nice for yourself.’
That certainly had him score brownie points with you. Sure, the money was nice, but it was the thoughtfulness of his words which drew you to him.
Very well aware of this, having overheard a couple conversations between you and your friends, Eames continued to accompany his donations with sweet messages.
Sir’s proud of you, taking such a big dildo. But don’t forget to drink water, darling!
Take a shower before you go to sleep, poppet. If I was there, I’d wash you and tuck you in.
I really like the new pink lingerie. Here’s some pocket change so you can buy some more cute outfits.
In class, he’s noticed you’ve become more at ease. Before, you used to have this distracted air, which he deduced stemmed from financial worries.
He’s kept an eye on you, trailing you from a distance after your shifts at your two part-time jobs to make sure you got home safe.
Not gonna lie, he was kind of ecstatic when you mentioned quitting your second job. He’s always admired your drive to balance academics with private and work life, but the exhaustion it caused you only made him amp up his game to get you to notice him.
He’d take care of you.
First behind the scenes.
And later, after graduating, he’d step from the shadows to take you on a trip and make you his.
Eames knows you won’t be able to reject his offer, already having planned what cards to play when your conscience will start to gnaw at you.
Moreover, he certainly had noticed the doe eyes you tend to make at him during lectures and seminars and the way you blush when you say his name, a privilege extended only to you.
He can tell it makes you happy when you call him Ian, especially outside of class.
He’s been working out more because he’s noticed the underlying dreamy satisfaction in your eyes it causes. The height difference helps too, as proven by a happy accidental discovery when he paid for your coffee in the cafeteria.
“It isn’t proper for a gentleman to let a woman pay for her own drink,” he merrily told you when you glanced over your shoulder, cheeks flushed and your whole body slightly trembling.
Had he let his self-control waver, he’d have swept you off of your feet and taken you right there and then. You simply looked too cute.
Too meek.
Incapable of stopping him.
He knows you tend to frequent bookshops in your spare time, so it happens more than once you ‘bump into him’ while browsing them.
He stays close to you under the pretense of protecting you from the other predatory men who fancy they have a chance with you.
In reality, though, the hand resting on your hip stems from the pure need, the instinct, to touch you.
Moreover, he enjoys the way he towers over you. He’s basically the wall between you and the outside world (and everyone in it).
A role which he intends to play until you tell your audience you’re taken by a man who does it like no other and you shut the camera off once and for all.
Until you introduce him to your parents and friends as your husband, the man who provides you with a stable and comfortable life.
Until he is your world.
And in the meantime, he’ll just have to get rid of every obstacle.
One silent bullet and perfect lie at a time.
All behind your back.
So you don’t have to see Sir’s monstrous side.
I’ll admit I went off the rails here, but this is what I’m living for right now. I don’t know how I’d translate this into a wee story or series, if ever I will. All the same, I thought it’d be a nice concept to share.
MORE EAMES??? X 👈🏻( If you want to dream a little bigger darlin’…🥰♥️⏳)
A/N: Hey everyone I hope you all having a good nice day. I know that the weather for everyone has been nothing but horrible believe me I am already done with summer and I want Fall to come already... However, I am back with another One-Shot, and this time I went with Eames from Inception. He is one of my favorites and had this mind when I actually had a dream of James Delaney the other night, and I know it wasn't Eames but it motivated me to do this One-Shot(I promise I will do more James Delaney). But yet again here it is another short story of my lovely Eames. Again guys thank you for reading please reblog and comment it will mean a lot for me and my blog. As always guys thank and please Enjoy!!!
WARNING 18+ ONLY!!!: Some Graphic Blood, Lit Swearing, Alcohol Use, Mentions of Depression, Fluff (Zayla and Eames), Mentions of Abandonment, Mentions of Child Neglect, and Steamy SMUT
⏳💕♟⏳💕♟⏳💕♟⏳💕♟⏳💕♟⏳💕♟⏳💕♟⏳💕♟⏳💕🖤⏳💕♟⏳
Eames… baby… you’re dreaming of me again, aren’t you?… it’s time for you to get up, my sleepy bird…
Eames then gasped out loud as he sat up quickly in the middle of his dark and quiet bedroom. His breathing was the only thing he was hearing while looking around his surroundings. He then covered his face with both of his hands as his breathing became more steady.
“Goddamn it,” he said as he muffled between his hands as Eames removed his grey blanket to the side.
His feet touched the cold wooden brown floor, feeling some sort of light headache in his head. But he tried to ignore it as much as could as he got up from bed.
Eames made his way to the kitchen, turning on the lights along the way. As he made it to the counter, he then took out from one of the cabinets a bottle of tequila. And without bothering to get a glass, he then undid the lid and dragged the hot liquid in one sip. He then took a huge exhale after putting the bottle down on top of the counter. Not giving a damn about the now hurtful headache that was pulsing against his head.
It has been almost 6 grieving drunken and exhausting months since Zayla died in that mission she volunteered to join with him and the rest of the gang.. She was the one who wanted to take the risks while Eames, however, was worried for her safety, knowing the dangers that were up ahead of them. And he wasn’t wrong right until after that day they almost succeeded in the task but failed horrifically.
Zayla was someone special to Eames since the first time he laid eyes on her. It was a beautiful fresh evening as Eames walked his way back to his apartment. After having a meeting with Cobb and the rest of his teammates talking about doing this highly riskily mission. It was just another normal walk until he accidentally bumped into a gorgeous young-looking Spaniard woman. As her notebook fell to the floor, loose papers scattered around.
“Oh, Christ I’m terribly sorry miss, here let me help you with those,” Eames said as he knelt down to help the girl with her paperwork.
“No, it’s my fault. I should have kept my eyes up. It’s just been a terrible and chaotic day for me at work,” she said, grabbing one paper after the other, feeling embarrassed in front of him. “I am a very clumsy person sometimes again. I’m sorry for making you help me out.”
“Miss, it’s perfectly fine don’t be daft I definitely understand what you’re saying,” he said as he was about to pick up the last paper on the floor. Until Zayla’s hand clasped with Eames as they both then looked up to face each other.
For a moment or two, Eames felt the world around him go into a blur. Until he took into the presence of the woman, he was helping. She had amazing long dark brown hair that touched her hips with lovely looking thin lips. And what captured Eames’ gaze the most about her was those amazingly bright green-brown eyes of hers. He felt as if he was under a bewitching hex that he accidentally touched without asking.
“Ummm, thank you for helping me out, good sir,” Zayla said as she raised herself up to her feet while feeling her cheeks flush red. “I should get going but again it was very nice of you for helping me Mr.?”
“Eames, just call me Eames, and what is your name if I may ask?” He said as he handed the last paperwork to her.
“It’s Zayla, it is very nice to meet you, Eames,” she said as she shyly took the paper from his hand, while he gave a kind smile to her.
After that unexpected encounter between the two, which was 2 years ago, they couldn’t stop thinking about each other almost every day. And to their surprise, they ended up working together, along with Arthur and Cobb. Both Arthur and Cobb mostly saw potential in Zayla besides being a quick, high advanced hacker, a thief like Eames, and an architect. But underneath all those skills, however, she had a special gift when dream sharing with others. Zayla was born with the gift of being able to sense, feel, see, and hear the dead and astral project herself from her physical body. So, in most cases, she had no use in being wired up to the Pasiv machine and instead used her projection, so it was easy for her to get into anybody’s consciousness. Which depended on how much strength, time and energy she can be away from her physical body. Since the more she is out spiritually, the more difficult it would be to go back to her body.
It freaked both Arthur and Cobb out when they tested her with Eames, he however, was very impressed by how abnormal and yet bone-chilling abilities she can do as a whole. And this, however, made Eames like her more and know they would get along closely together. And after months of practice, they all thought it was time for the real thing.
“How did you realize you could do such frightening and yet amazing abilities?” Eames asked Zayla one night alone in their secret abandoned warehouse.
Zayla chuckled at what Eames was trying to ask her, which didn’t bother her for one bit. She also had grown fond of Eames’ charming persona. He was kind, smart, a fast learner, strong, fearless, and a caring human being. But once she knew his whole backstory, she realized he could be a mischievous and a well-known thief, mostly. Since he can as well dopplegang into anyone that he pleases or when it is a mission. This made Zayla like him more, for it reminded her of her old self when she was a bit of a rebel. And for a short period, she would wander the streets of Venice. Where she had to fend for herself and survive after her father abandoned her.
“Well, it did not really surprise me when I discovered I possessed such gifts for the first time. My father thought the devil cast a horrible curse upon me. And that is when he left me to rot in the streets on my own, thinking that I would bring more bad luck than good,” she said while holding back the tears from coming out of her eyes.
“I am sorry to hear about what your father did to you. No little girl like you should have never been left out on the streets. Your father was a delusional and neglectful man who couldn’t see how smart, lovely, and strong you have come along. Zayla, you’re full of wonderful things that I think are incredible. And believe me, if I were your father, I would only cherish you and be proud of what you are as a whole. All of this that you’re blessed with is something God giving. I may not be a religious man myself, but you should treasure this gift that you withheld. Trust me in what I say because my father was like yours, too.’
Zayla stopped writing some notes on a little notepad. And before long, she then walked to Eames’ side until suddenly she cupped his left cheek with her left hand. As they both gazed into each other’s eyes, she felt his emotions. It all clashed with many feelings of pain, sadness, lack of effect, anger, and displeasing everything that one could ever imagine. She then felt a bit of a shudder after feeling these instincts, fully understanding where Eames has come from.
“Your father seemed to have always been disappointed in you for most of your life. Even though you’ve tried to show him so many times that you are a quick thinker, He would always shrug you off and always still thought of you as a failure. But you are not, certainly not to me. Because you are also someone blessed with a gift like me. We outcasts with immense capabilities that some would see as terrifying, devilish, and supernatural. So I know what it feels like to be in this sort of position, but that doesn’t make me think you’re a failure. You are more than that Eames that your father couldn’t see. That is why I liked you so much and with this you are now saying I love you even more,” she said, gently brushing her thumb against his cheek.
Eames, however, had something else in mind, for he then grabbed her face with his hands. And with no strings to restrain him, took her in with a gentle kiss. Zayla didn’t know how to react to this, but once the kiss became more passionate, she returned the kiss.
They both breathed heavily between their lips as Eames hoisted her legs around his waist. While not breaking the kiss, he then gently placed her on top of a faded wooden table. As a small gasp escaped from Zayla’s lips, Eames placed kisses on the side of her neck as his hands roamed around her body. Zayla caressed the back of his head while his plump, wet lips landed on her collarbone. Zayla then lightly moans out his name as he removed her long brown sleeve shirt.
“You’re such a beauty to admire, do you realize that love?” Eames said as he took in her lips once again, as she unbuttoned his dark long sleeve shirt.
Once his shirt was completely off, Zayla’s hands then roamed smoothly against his firm chest down to his muscular stomach. She bit her bottom lips while she was touching and seeing what was in front of her. As she smiled up at Eames, she unbuckled his trousers as they closed the gap between them. Eames then undo her red bra, while Zayla then slowly rolled down the last of his clothing as she savored his lips again. As her breasts were fully exposed, he then gently grabbed her with his hands as she let out another moan. He took her right nipple in his mouth while playing around her left nipple with his other hand. She then grabbed a fist of his hair while feeling his tongue teasing her ever so erotically.
“Oh god Eames, yes, just like that… don’t fucking stop,” Zayla moaned out Eames’s bite gently on her right nipple, leaving a light hickey along with it.
Eames then laid Zayla flatly on her back as he now licked her stomach while he then undid her black jeans. He then looked up at her while she then sexily massaged her own breasts, making his manhood erect harder. While he dragged down her jeans along with her black panties, without holding back, he licked his two fingers and inserted them inside her wet core. Zayla whimpered out as she clasped her hands over her mouth, feeling her cheeks blush red. Eames eyed her while he went continued to go in and out of her wet clinched walls. He then gave a devilish grin as he twirled her clit with his teasing tongue. This made Zayla fall over the edge as she let out a loud whimper, taking all these amazing arousals one at a time.
“Eames fuck… just like that, fuck me more,” she said while clenching a fist full of his dark brown locks again, while he increased his fingering more progressively.
Zayla then tilted her head back as she felt her orgasm about to explode in between his mouth and fingers. Before she could cumm around his fingers, Eames slowed the pace, not wanting her to cum just yet.
“Now it is your turn to give me what I want, love. You are not allowed to cum just yet, sweetheart,” Eames soothingly said as he hovered over Zayla, as he tongue kissed her this time.
She then turned him over on his back as she then got on her knees in front of him. She got herself comfortable in between his bulky member, as she grabbed him with both of her hands. Making Eames groan at her soft hands around his hard dick. Without question, Zayla then licked the head of his penis as her right hand stroked him up and down, ever so lovely. She then slowly took him inside her warm mouth, feeling his enormous cock consuming her entire mouth ever so deliciously. Eames’s hips clenched at this reaction while his eyes shut tightly closed, feeling every inch of her mouth.
“Zayla… f-fuck me just like that,” Eames moaned out as he gently clenched her hair with his right hand while she sucked him faster.
She then stroked his length with her hands as she licked his tip once more. Eames bit his lips, trying to hold back a moan. Before he could say another word, Zayla took him in deeper inside her mouth, making Eames lose his mind at this action. Before he could burst inside her warm mouth, she then looked up in his gaze while catching her breath from giving him head. She got up on her feet as they both smiled at each other, feeling their warm breaths between their lips.
“How was that for a receiving pleasure, baby?” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck, giving a small peck on his lips.
“Love, how can I say no to a wonderful woman such as you, eh?” he said, placing his hands against her naked hips, their foreheads resting against each other.
“I want you already inside me Eames, make me yours already,” Zayla said as she adjusted herself against his hard member.
“You really want it, my desperate naughty girl?” he said as he could feel her sweet flower rub against his length.
“Hmmm yes, so much baby, don’t tease me anymore. Do whatever you please with my lovely cunt, for it is now yours to claim,” Zayla said as she now could feel the head of his cock smear between her folds.
“Is it mine to take? Is it now, huh? Well, then I would gladly give it to you my precious flower, for you are now mine and mine to take. Do you understand my pet?” Eames said as he caressed her left cheek with his thumb while she closed her eyes at his soft touch.
“I’m yours and only yours baby, I love you Eames so much,” she said, placing her hands on his broad shoulders.
And with that, he sunk her down slowly inside of her as they both moaned in unison, feeling both of their genitals as one. She then thrust his cock ever so lightly while Eames gripped her hips to keep her in balance. The sight of her well-sized breasts bounced ever so hotly in front of him, thinking how lucky he was to have a woman like Zayla. As they both picked up the pace, she then kissed the side of his neck as Eames hugged her tightly in his arms. And before long, their thrusts became quicker than they both were hitting their right spots for each other.
“Fuck baby, Eames shit… yes please make me feel unclean,” Zayla said as she gripped his tighter around her arms, while she bit him lightly on his left shoulder
“Hmmm fuck, you feel so wonderful love, I love you… so much sweety, cum for me,” he said between breaths while he could feel his insides coming sooner than he thought.
As they both moaned together once again, they both held nothing back as their orgasms clashed together. Eames then thrust into her a few more times as his juices filled her whole, while Zayla tried her best to catch her breath. As Eames tried to relax as best as he could, he then rest his now sweaty forehead against her right shoulder, also catching his breath. Zayla then lean back as he grabbed his face between her hands, as a big smile spread across her face.
“You alright baby?” she said as a small giggle escaped between her smile, making Eames huff at this comment.
“Alright? Hehe, I feel fucking wonderful. You were so amazing would really love to do this again with you. Do you feel alright, my sweet flower? Did I hurt you in any way?” he said as he cupped her chin between his fingers.
“Mi Amor, I feel better than I could ever ask. You made me feel less stressed and more alive since the meeting we had with the others. I think we should call it a night and head back home. What do you say bebe?”
“Whatever you say, mi Reyna, I will agree to anything my Zayla commands and wants, ok?” he said as she chuckled at his mispronunciation, loving how beautiful he just was.
They then made it back to the hotel room some hours later, where they shared a soft medium size bed together. As she slept soundly around his arms, Eames couldn’t feel anything but a joy to have Zayla against his side. Feeling like the luckiest man in the world to be gifted with a woman that is just like him. Different, smart, beautiful, and someone that he felt comfortable sharing his feelings.
He then softly caressed her left cheek while she continued to sleep soundly in front of him. As he reminded a few locks of hair away from her face, placing them behind her left ear. Eames then kissed her the top of her head, feeling the sleep overcoming his body. Before he could knock it out completely, he then said something that he would never forget that day before he lost her that same night.
“Zayla, I love you so, so much, mi corazón. I know you can see and hear me, but if you are here. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while… please be mine forever. Please be the woman to complete me. I’m asking you for your hand in marriage and I mean it so much. Because if I never met someone perfect and enchanting like you, I… wouldn’t imagine a life without you mi linda mujer. So please baby… accept… accept me as your loving husband, for I will cherish you for years to come. I promise I will never disappoint you or fail you because I love you, Zayla. Mi estrella, mi luz, and my soul,” Eames said lastly until his heavy eyes overtook him to sleep, and all the while, Zayla heard and saw everything from the corner of her bed.
Oh my, Eames… mi Rey I do… I do very much want to be yours… forever.
Eames slumped down on his brown soft couch with a heavy grunt as he overlooked through his glass window. Looking over the nightly lit city while holding a glass of wine in one hand while holding a bottle of wine in the other. He has had no time to contact with the others, feeling as if it was useless to talk with anyone else. The only voice and person he wanted to see the most was his Zayla. Oh, how he had missed her so sweet random conversations that he would lose himself in. Talking about her ghost stories, about her mother having the same abilities, her likes and dislikes, wanting to have children of her own, the marriage, everything. But those times were now gone as the rest of his happiness were never fully came to life.
He would always remember that haunting and last look on her face, which took a big traumatic hit on Eames’s mind. It was all going well, as any other normal mission could either be a success or a failure. Until Zayla and Arthur almost planted a false idea inside of a high-class security corporate leader named Draven. But he right away noticed it was a distraction to take him in while Eames and Cobbs tried to steal his very secretive plans.
“You think you can deflect me that easily, my dear friends, hehe. You know something that you should have noticed beforehand. I always come prepared and I am quite a step ahead if you catch my drift,” he said while back in the real world, two black trucks screeched to a halt in front of the abandoned building. While inside, Arthur, Eames, Cobb, and Zayla were soundly in a deep sleep.
“So I suggest you hurry back along back o your bodies before my men come to you first, clock is ticking,” Draven said with an ugly smirk on his face while taking out a gun from behind his belt.
“Zayla lookout!” Arthur screamed out as he shoved her to the side as they both landed down on the floor.
Draven laughed out loud at how foolish and imprudent they were, while Arthur and Zayla ran their way out of the room they tried to keep Draven in.
“Eames, Cobb, fall back. We are in trouble right now. We have to wake up now. Zayla, do your thing, but hurry,” Arthur said to her as they stopped somewhere safely away from Draven.
She just nodded her head as she closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on going back to her body. But the more she focused, the more her energy and strength became weak.
“Come on Zayla, hurry, we got much time,” he said as he looked over his right shoulder to see if Draven was somewhere nearby.
Zayla said nothing, for she tried her best to get back to her body and when all hope was almost lost, she then finally made it back to reality. She gasped for air as she quickly sat underneath an old ruined couch. While trying to get her breathing as steady as she could, she then hopped up off the couch as she then played Arthur’s tape that contained the French song that makes him wake up faster. But below them, she heard hard thumping noises coming in their direction.
As she played the song, Arthur suddenly woke up with a big gasp. As he then as well hop-up quickly on his feet.
“Arthur, we have to hurry. I can hear them coming. I have to go back inside to get Cobb and Eames. Whatever happens to me after I wake them up, you guys go on ahead and run like hell. You understand me?” she said as she then laid back on the couch again, but Arthur wasn’t agreeing about all of this just yet.
“No, we are all getting out of here alive, you understand? I don’t want to see any of us get left behind, so don’t you dare say that, ok?” he said in an intimidating tone which Zayla nodded her knowing that she had to believe in this now.
“Your right, keep them busy as much as you can while I get Cobb and Eames. Wish me luck,” she said as she then closed her eyes once again, trying to get inside of their minds.
She then suddenly appeared in another room of Draven’s mansion, not knowing now where the hell she is at this moment. But she then made her way out of a long dim hallway as she tried to find both Cobb and Eames. She then slowly jogged around every corner she turned until she felt Eames’ energy close by. She then took out her gun from her right side, while walking sideways, waiting to aim.
“Eames, Cobb, are you there?” she whisperly called out, feeling his energy become closer, but suddenly an armed wrapped around her neck from behind. Making her drop the gun to the floor, as she struggles to break free from this unknown person.
The unidentified person then pinned her hard up against the wall as they wrapped his hands around her neck, making her choke out for air. While back with Arthur, he noticed that her body had started to shake uncontrollably. As she let out raspy groans between her lips, the henchmen were now getting closer to the door. He then walked to her side and placed a hand on her right shoulder, trying to wake her up as best he can.
“Zayla, Zayla shit, shit. Come on, get out there already, don’t risk any further anymore,” he said in a panic state while on the other side, she could hear his faint voice. Feeling as if she was going to pass out.
But out of the corner of her eyes, a gunshot went straight to the side of the person’s head as they landed on the floor with a loud thud. Zayla coughed out for breath as she massaged her neck with her right hand. Eames then made his way to her as he gently cupped her face between his large hands.
“Baby, you're alright my dear? Did that bastard didn’t hurt you anywhere else?” he said as Zayla looked into his blue eyes, feeling her breaths come back to normal.
I’m… I’m fine, but we have to go back quickly. Draven’s men are already in the warehouse. We got to help Arthur. He’s all alone in the room. Where the hell is Cobbs? Did he get back with Arthur in time?” Zayla said as she rested her back a bit against the wall.
“He made it back in time with Arthur. It is now you and me inside here. Can you try to bring us both back to our bodies?” Eames asked as he looked over his shoulder at any other henchmen.
“Yes, but we got to get out of here first. This way, come on,” Zayla said as she took the lead while Eames looked around, pointing his gun, making sure nobody came through.
They then quietly made their way out of the gigantic mansion as they walked through the dark, dimly lit hallways from one turn to the other. But once they made it into the main entrance of the house, they then heard the click of the gun’s hammer pulling back. Which made Eames and Zayla freeze in fright, not wanting to turn to face who it was.
“Where do you think you two are going, huh? Now turn around slowly, and throw those guns away from yourselves,” Draven said as Eames side-eyed Zayla, while she looked back at him with worried and panicked eyes.
They slowly turned themselves slowly to face Draven, and Zayla could feel her body fill up with goosebumps. Eames then gave a tense gaze at the corporate man as he gripped the gun in his hand.
“I don’t have all day, you stupid pathetic thieves, now Hand. Over. The. Weapons. Right. Fucking. NOWWWW!” Draven exclaimed as he gripped the handle of the gun more intensely, as Zayla felt a lump form in her throat.
Before anything could get any further, Zayla then suddenly heard the French song playing, knowing that either Arthur or Cobb was trying to reach out. She then looked back at Draven, who now had his finger on the trigger, feeling his patience was running out. Zayla did the unthinkable as she felt everything went in slow motion at that very moment. As what she did in that very next move made Eames lose his entire life in front of him forever.
“You will never win in the end Draven. You’ll see it when we have the last laugh,” Zayla said as she pulled out her gun to him and pulled the trigger, hitting him on his right arm.
But before long Draven also released the bullet, as Zayla wrapped Eames tightly in her arms while the last thing she saw was his eyes that she grew to love and admire.
“I love you Eames so much. Never forget about me, Mi Amor Mio,” she said as she closed her eyes, giving her the last energy and strength to transport each other to their bodies.
As Eames opened his eyes wide open as he gasped loudly for air, Cobb then was there by his side.
“Hey hey easy, easy, just breathe slowly,” Cobb said as Eames looked around the enormous room, as his eyes laid on Zayla’s body.
He noticed she was breathing heavily as a big blood stain appeared in the middle of her stomach. Eames then unbalanced got up from the gray couch as he took Zayla’s left hand in his while Cobbs wrapped his dark blue suit around her stomach. Zayla whimpered out as she felt the sharp pain in her stomach, while Eames went into a panic state.
“Baby, it’s alright my love, stay with me, you’re going to be fine. We’re going to get out of here together. Just breath, mi Amor,” he said while he caressed her right cheek with his other hand, while Zayla couldn’t help but feel the hot throbbing pain that she was feeling.
“Goddamnit, they’re trying to break down the door. We got to go, quickly this way,” Arthur exclaimed as he closed the Pasiv Machine, as Eames’s eyes formed tears in his eyes.
“E-Eames, it’s alright m-my love, just go… please for me,” Zayla stutteringly said as she could feel her vision become blurry ever so slowly.
“No, no, don’t you dare say that… here grab on my shoulders, I’ll carry you. I am not leaving you her.-”
“Eames Go Please!!! Zayla exclaimed as loud bangs from the door were heard from behind, while Arthur and Cobb then raised Eames to his feet.
Everything around him felt muffled and going in slow motion, as he felt his hand slide slowly away from her soft hand. Eames struggled against Cobbs and Arthurs’s grip as they then made their way down some old rusted stairs, as Eames looked back at those lovely green-brown eyes of hers. He let the tears roll down from both of his cheeks, as he saw the henchmen circled around her. As one of them placed a small knife against her neck, and in a quick slash, he cut her in a clean slice.
“Zayla, no, no!” Eames screamed out in anger as Arthur and Cobb restrain him from going back to her, as they then made their way down the stairs.
“Get them don’t let them get away,” one henchman yelled out as two other henchmen ran their way to catch the running trio.
Zayla’s now lifeless bloody body was laying ever so silently, as her body now became white and pale as a ghost. As her last few gurgling breaths were heard ever so quietly, until her vision became black. Like the night.
Meanwhile, outside of the building, Arthur, Eames, and Cobb rushed their way to their car, while Draven’s henchmen were close behind. As they then got inside the car, Arthur spun the vehicle as bullets then fired against the car.
“ARTHUR STEP ON IT NOW!!” Cobb yelled out from the loud bullets, as he shot back and Arthur did what he was told.
They then back the car quickly and in no time they then were out of the abandoned warehouse, as they had to escape somewhere they won’t be followed for a while. As everyone calmly tried to catch their breaths, Eames, however, fell quiet and motionless. As he had to witness such a traumatic and bloody scene, that his lovely woman got her neck sliced in front of him. Knowing that he lost his future, happiness, passion, and humanity on Zayla, his heart became cold and dead. Arthur, in a sad gaze, looked at Eames through the rearview mirror, feeling that same emotion his best friend was feeling. Arthur also felt he lost a good person on that day, feeling like it was part of his fault for letting her go back on her own. Cobb as well could feel Eames’s pain, knowing that he as well lost a loved one in his life. Knowing that Eames will go through the same state as Cobb was in the past.
“You should have let me go back to her, you fools. She could have been saved if… if only she. If only I pulled that trigger, she wouldn’t have sacrificed herself for me. God, why did she do something like that?” Eames said as he broke down in more tears, as Arthur and Cobb silently shed tears along with him.
His wails and sorrows echo throughout his living room apartment, as he now emptied the wine bottle. He let the bottle fall to the wooden floor as the glass on his other hand dropped and shattered throughout the floor. He then mumbled drunkenly at the noise of the glass as he tried his best to get on his feet.
“Why, why did you do it, Zayla? Why did you have to go, my love?” he slurring said as he fell to his knees, as he felt small sharp glasses on his palms making him grunt in pain.
“You fucking pieces of shits,” he mumbly said as he breathe sharply between his teeth, while drips of silva slid down on his chin.
He then tried his best to get on his feet, but Eames was failing miserably as he now dropped again to the floor. He felt the cold material of the floor against his cheek, as he lay flat on his stomach as tears still streamed down his face. Eames was wheezing heavily, but then in the corner of his eye saw a blurry figure coming towards him. He tried to adjust his vision, but it was no use until he heard that familiar silky voice he has missed so much.
What are you doing, my silly Eames? Don’t you see what a mess you made, mi Amor? Please, don’t let your sorrows get the best of you, my sweet King… you need to continue onward for me. You must continue your path without me. No matter what you do or go, I’ll always be here, my love. Forever always…
Eames slowly lifted his head up from the floor, as he saw that gorgeous familiar face of hers looking down on him. As she was wearing a lovely long sleeve white dress, while she sat gently down on her knees. While a small smile grew between her lovely lips, as she smoothly caressed the top of his head.
“I… I just cannot continue… without you, baby. My happiness… was always with you and only you. I’d rather be dead and be with you instead of walking in this pathetic world,” he said as Zayla placed his head gently on top of her knee as she still caressed his head ever so smoothly.
Mi Amor, you must continue and be strong for me, do it for me for our powerful love and especially for yourself. Don’t you worry about me sweetheart, our souls will someday reunite once again. But today is not that time… you got to wake up Mi Rey. Wake up, for me, and promise me you will fight for us both. Please, baby, wake up.
“Zayla!!!” Eames yelled out as he sat up panicky from his bed while looking around in his now light up bedroom.
He then let out a tiring long sigh as he placed his hands against his tired face. Eames looks to the left side of the bed, seeing that his clock read 8 AM, knowing it was early in the morning.
He then let out another small sigh as he now touched the cold floor against his feet, while hunching his shoulders forward. As he looked straight out of his glass windows, breathing through his nostrils as he welcomed a new and yet another depressing day.
“I promise my Zayla, I’ll do this for you and only you, my Angel. I promise,” he said out loud to himself as he then got up on his feet, not knowing what the future would hold for him.
I miss you, my Zayla… if only you were here with me….
So, I’m in London on a writer’s retreat. Technically speaking, that is, because I’ve done precious little writing.😅
I did do a lot of wandering around (about 15K steps a day, so let’s say about 12km), reading, and sitting in the various parks. Even got a tan!
Btw, for those curious what books I’m currently reading: Circe by Madeline Miller & The Wolf Age: The Vikings, the Anglo-Saxons and the Battle for the North Sea Empire by Tore Skeie.
Anywho, despite the failure to finish some projects, I did start two new ones (alongside a few drafts for some new headcanons). Because… well, I don’t have a reason. You all know me by now and therefore know I’m good at starting things and getting inspired yet terrible at finishing stories. I need a routine, man. I really do.😹
Fun little fact: the Alfie story got inspired by the photo below (Tom with a beanie has me in a chokehold) and my interactions with my Young Alfie look-like colleague.
Also, yes, I’m back on the Dark!Eames train. Ah dinnae ken why, I just need it. I don’t know why my brain wants what it wants and does what it does.🤷🏻♀️
Last one, I swear. I can't not send one for Eames... 16.“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” and 73 “Stop being a fucking prick.”
The group needed a dreamscape to practice their plan on, so you volunteered. Yusuf had a new plan to achieve inception easier. It took a toll on you, but it worked.
You were pulled out of the dream a few hours ago, and you've been a bit dizzy ever since, which Yusuf assured was a normal side affect. The group was in the warehouse working independently when you stood to fast to get some water. You saw black spots and stood as still as possible, trying to get them to go away.
"You okay?" Arthur called out, noticing you wobble.
"Yeah- I just stood up a bit too fast.." You grumbled, blacking out completely and collapsing.
You awoke in a strong pair of arms, after adjusting your vision you looked into Eames' eyes.
“You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” Eames said with a smirk. You smiled weakly and rolled your eyes.
"Stop being a fucking prick." You muttered, trying to stand and wobbling back into Eames' arms. He caught you again, walking you to a chair and sitting you down, the rest of the team watching you anxiously.
Can't help it, it's in my blood, love." Eames spoke with a worried look on his face.
"You worried about me? Didn't know the great Ian Eames could feel something for anyone else." You teased.
"Yeah he can, he feels like the woman he adores is working herself a bit top hard." He confessed. You looked at him and smiled.
Summary: Normally professor Eames is the quick-witted gentleman within the English department, starting and maintaining discussions about literature with ease. However, on a rainy day, he seems to have lost his silver tongue.
But, to be honest, he doesn’t mind it could mean you may have very well caught a glimpse of what lies beneath the charming exterior.
Author’s Note: This is one big experiment because I have been meaning to write for Eames for some time now, but never could quite figure his character out and thus immerse myself in him. Nonetheless, I hope I still portrayed him somewhat authentically, as the trickster gentleman we know. Albeit with my own personal twist. Anyways, enjoy!
TH Masterlist / Monster Masterlist
Tag list: @buttercup32sstuff @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual @potter-solomons @ilovemanypeople @zablife @hecatemoon87 @alikaheroes
Want to be tagged in the future? Send me a message or leave a comment and I’ll make sure to add ye!
Some days it’s raining and on others it’s pouring. Of course it’s on a day like the latter when you’re dragged to the campus for a seminar, a nice ten minutes walk from the nearest bus stop with basically no shelter from the downpour. Bloody marvellous, innit?
Up in the branches of the trees lining the street, the local pigeons are quizzically studying the people mad enough to be walking the streets. They, too, must be wondering why we would be outside when they themselves would rather nestle somewhere dry and warm.
I look up to see pairs of beady eyes gawking back at me.
I’d do the bloody same if I were you.
Maybe with a cup of coffee.
Ah, that sounds grand.
Unfortunately, the only shelter I have is the personal bubble created by the music blasting through my earphones, which does absolutely nothing to prevent me from being soaked. Shoulders hunched and my head bowed, I pick up the pace to get out of the damned weather as fast as possible.
Although, maybe I have spoken too soon since the rain stops. Or, rather, continues in the world outside the shadow that has overcast my own.
“Shouldn’t you have an umbrella?” a gravelly voice asks in a London accent. The outside chill rises to a summer-like heat in my cheeks, my muscles tensing at the imposing presence in the corner of my eye. ‘‘Or are you desperate to catch a cold bad enough to skip class?’’
I slowly turn my head, my mind cluttered with various thoughts yet none that contains a coherent response. And the intoxicating scent of fresh cologne mixed with musk, tobacco, and coffee isn’t particularly helpful either. “I didn’t think- um, didn’t find it necessary. To take one… with me, I mean. It’s only a ten minute walk and I’m not made of sugar.”
In the nick of time, I clear my throat to conceal the awkward giggle threatening to spill forth.
I’m a mess. He thinks I’m weird. Yup, definitely fucked. Sent every ounce of casualness straight to hell.
However, it’s difficult to maintain composure when dealing with Ian Eames.
Charming like Loki, the British literature professor is prone to sending tongues wagging. Lovesick glances in his direction and muted sighs of longing are commonplace, whether it be inside or outside the lecture hall or classroom. Nevertheless, few go up to actually talk to the man, ironically too intimidated by his presence. Because, despite the spell he puts everyone under, there remains a sense of silent violence about him. Provoke him and you’ll regret it.
If academics hadn’t worked out for him, he’d have a fair chance at becoming a security guard or a bouncer. He certainly has the body for it, being broad-shouldered, tall, and muscled. Perhaps he also has the right mindset for it since he isn’t shy to step up to resolve conflicts between quarrelling students or colleagues or afraid to put people in their place should they cross the line. I haven’t experienced it in person a lot, but those eyes like an overcast day at the waterside will turn stormy with a barely contained tempest. A brief sneer, like a predator showing its canines in agitation, will briefly make his plush upper lip curl up before he’d force himself to maintain enough composure to maintain a professional attitude. Nonetheless, the words are always choked, rough around the edges and sometimes, albeit rarely, distorted to the point no one understands them at all.
Right now, though, they are crystal clear and even a tad amused, lined with an indecipherable sort of pride. “How’s your thesis going?”
I tilt my head and bite my lip, caught off-guard by the unexpected question. I’ve only discussed the process with my pals, even during class, I’ll admit. Nonetheless, it appears the professor is more observant than I originally thought. “Well, it’s… it’s going.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” Ian’s, no, Professor Eames’s expression falters, mischief making way for a concern that runs deeper than a professor would normally feel nor show to a student when given such a response.
I let out a deep sigh through my nose and chuckle melancholically. “It’s driving me up the wall, to be honest. Already had to rewrite the bloody thing three times.”
He might be an expert at maintaining his composure, but he has years of experience under his belt whereas I have none. And, like many others, I am prone to crumbling in his vicinity.
Realising the improper use of language, I stumble over my words in the rush to apologise. “P- Pardon my language. I didn’t mean to swear. Sometimes it just slips out and- I don’t do it consciously. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-’’
“Don’t worry about it, Y/N.” The corners of Ian’s, God, his name is lovely. Anyways, the corners of his mouth curl into an amused grin. “I’ve heard way worse. You can’t get worse than a Cockney. And take that from a Cockney himself.”
“Well, there are the Irish and the Scots.”
“You spent some time up there, didn’t you? I think I heard you talk to your friends about that. Plus, your accent.”
“Wh- What’s with my accent?”
“It’s cute. Good, I mean! It’s good!” A pink flush colours his cheeks, he averts his gaze. “It’s nice to hear something other than RP or American is what I meant. Wanted to say, depends on what… what grammar you prefer. It’s charming, let me phrase it like that.”
Sure, let’s go along with that.
If only for both our sakes.
Professor Eames gestures for us to move, briefly bowing his head.
Matching his pace with mine, we continue on our way. Our hands are not quite close enough to touch, but the little distance between them allows me to feel the heat emanating off of his skin. An altogether not too unpleasant thing when the weather is this rotten.
Hang on, what if other students see us? Would… would this start rumours? Nah, I’ve seen others walk with professors too. We’re grand. We’re okay… I hope.
Normally, a moment of silence with him is in the classroom, a mere lull in the discussion. Somehow he always knows to say the right thing to rekindle it, but otherwise, even during the breaks, I see him writing away in the journal he keeps with him or reading a book. But this is a different scenario.
And it shows.
Ian breaks the awkward silence by scraping his throat. “Anyway, the thesis. It’ll work out. Writing one isn’t easy, but from what I’ve read in your previous essays and assignments, I think you’ll manage just fine. Who’s your supervisor?”
“Professor King.”
“Ah, Arthur!” He clicks his tongue, his voice laced with a sentiment holding the middle between playfulness and contempt. “I’ll go talk to that stick in the mud if he doesn’t give you a good grade.”
I bite my lip and steal a glance at him, too cowardly to maintain eye contact. “Thank you, sir. That’s… that’s very kind.”
And also kinda out of bounds.
As if he’s read my mind, he flinches. “Sorry, it’s just that I know you’re a capable girl. You clearly put effort into your papers so… yeah… you, um, you deserve that. And I mean it, I’ll really talk to him if he… if things… never mind. You’re already under a lot of stress and I’m not making it any better.”
Where has your silver tongue gone?
“I appreciate it, though.” The pleased hum rising from my throat catches him by surprise. “Thank you.”
Dumbfounded, he blinks and then nods. “Glad to help. At least a little bit.”
Staring ahead, we let the silence settle back in. Nonetheless, I can’t help but steal a couple glances at the handsome dandy walking next to me. Despite the fact it’s none of my business and he likely has a partner who’s already commented on it, my stomach coils at the air of fatigue hanging about him. Normally, his hair is neatly parted at the side and slicked back. Today, however, it’s muzzled, each brown lock leading its own life. The vague outline of dark circles discolour the skin under his blue eyes and his stubble, normally kept fairly closely trimmed, is unkempt, scruffy even. It’s hard to recognize the metropolitan man image he usually portrays in the way he looks now.
I grow pale when he looks back at me, my heart somersaulting into next week. Strangely, instead of instantly reprimanding me or downplaying the situation, he perks up. His voice is kind and mellow, unashamed of letting the curiosity brewing within show. “Why are you looking at me?”
“I- I wasn’t!” He cocks a sarcastic eyebrow at me, which forces me to surrender. “Okay, I was. It’s just that, with all due respect, sir, but-’’
“Y/N, you don’t have to address me formally. I’ve told you a few times already, haven’t I? Just call me Ian.”
It’s a privilege you’ve given me, but I won’t use it. We have to keep our distance. Stick to protocol.
At the start of each course I’ve followed that was taught by him, he’s told us to simply call him by his last name. Students who had the ambition to get on a first-name basis with him found themselves quickly disappointed, chastised in an instant once he gained the slightest inkling of their intentions. The only ones who call him by his name are his colleagues.
And me, the right granted when we ran into each other at the bookstore once. We weren’t on the university’s grounds, so there was no need for formalities. We talked a little bit about what we were reading, but I refused his offer to grab a cup of coffee and sit and read together for a while.
A decision I have regretted since.
Kinda sounds like the premise of one of those taboo romance novels, doesn’t it?
To be honest, I wish it was the plot of our story. Maybe someday it could be, after graduating.
If I hold his interest at all in that way. Or, rather, hold it still by then.
I open and close my mouth, lost for words. Nonetheless, regardless of how difficult it is and to sound casual, I continue as before and completely disregard his interruption. “You look tired.”
“Ah,” he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, “I was up all night reading essays. Yeah, essays.” He nods in acknowledgment of his own response. “That’s what I did. Can’t leave you waiting for your grades too long lest we get rebellions on our hands like during the Restoration.”
His features soften, his voice lowering to a comforting purr. Perhaps it’s because a gust of wind brushes past us, but his scent seems to have gotten stronger. It melts away the worries and suspicion leaving my shoulders tense, erasing the wariness in my body. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve already got enough on your plate.”
He reaches out, his hand trembling mid-air before he tucks a soaked strand of hair behind my ear. For a moment, he lets his fingers linger on my cheek, letting them trace my jaw before briefly cupping it. Despite myself, I lean into the touch, glad for the warmth in the icy chill.
“Cold,” he murmurs, the word almost distorted. “No good. Inside. Now.”
His hand falls away from my cheek, taking with it its pleasant warmth, and moves between my shoulders to gently yet forcefully coax me into motion. It remains there until a small body of students walks towards us. Ian clenches his jaw, but nods at them politely. However, his bright blue eyes have darkened, almost giving them an accusing look as if it’s their fault he can no longer touch me.
You’re acting too familiar. Do you want to lose your job?
To keep up appearances, I do my best to remain stoic and quiet, gaze focused on something in the distance. Nothing to see here. Simply a professor and a student heading in the same way.
At the same pace.
With their fingers brushing precariously against each other.
We arrive at the building where the seminar is supposed to take place. Ian holds the front door open, voice still gruff yet clearer than before. “Ladies first.”
“Thank you,” I mumble, slipping past him as fast as my blood is rushing in my ears.
We head up the stairs to the top floor. The plan to make straight for the coffee vending machine on my own gets thrown out the window because, apparently, I’m not the only person who has a warm drink on their mind.
We’re inside now, so there’s no need to worry about me getting cold anymore. Don’t you need to prepare for class or something?
Evidently not since Ian stays at my side. From the corner of my eye, I notice some students putting their heads together and whispering amongst themselves. Others try to be casual about stealing glances at us, but fail horribly.
We’re fucked. There’s no reason he should risk his neck like this.
I tap the cappuccino button on the display and pull my debit card up on my phone to pay. However, before I can bring the device within reach to complete the transaction, he reaches out as fast as lightning to block me. “Allow me. Even those in charge can be kind, especially to those with a lot on their plate. Think of Herrick’s ‘The Hock Cart’, the peasants were rewarded for their hard work.” His brow furrows as he recalls last week’s discussion of the poem. ‘‘I’m not willingly sending you back into the academic fray for my own benefit, though.’’
You kind of are, the benefit being the freedom to pursue our own paths. Then again, would you want them to cross at the bookshop like they did that day? Also, are you doing this because I’m me or would you pay for others as well?
“I know. Look, the coffee, it’s really kind, sir, but-’’ I stammer, debating whether it’s worth trying to wedge my hand beneath his to still make the payment myself.
However, he already swipes his staff card over the display, which lets out a soft beep to confirm the transaction. The yellow cup with the university’s logo plops into the holder against a background of the mechanical whirring of the bean grinder.
A sound pierces through the chaos in my mind and the drum of my heartbeat in my ears. A noise eerily similar to a concerned whine.
And it seems to come from Ian.
I’m going mental. Just grab the coffee and make up some silly excuse to be left alone.
As soon as the last drop of coffee is in the cup, I grab it from the machine, mumble a haphazard ‘‘thank you’’, and turn on my heel with the desperate hope to find my friends. Nevertheless, Ian grabs my upper arm and blocks my way with his body. In utter shock horror I stare at his hand and then at him. His expression has darkened, something inhuman lying beneath the surface. “It’s polite to wait for your superiors when they aren’t done talking to you. I assume you don’t walk away from your boss mid-conversation, love.”
“N- No, sir,” I stammer, heart hammering in my chest. The coffee might not survive this encounter if I keep trembling like a twig in an autumn storm.
“Then wait for me.” He lowers his head and leans in, brushing his nose against the side of my neck. I stiffen as his beard scrapes over the skin, caught between knowing better and surrendering to the shiver the contact sends down my spine. ‘‘It isn’t professional, but I mean you no harm. Let’s talk like we did back then. Surely you’ve read the novel you held in your hands. The one I recommended,’’ he purrs. ‘‘Or we could sit in silence. Whatever you want. However, all I ask is that you wait for me.
He places a featherlight peck on my throat, rights himself and lets go of my arm. Any other sane person would have ran and reported him. Unfortunately, I’m not the same person I woke up as this morning. Henceforth, I stand rooted to the floor and as still as a statue.
Waiting for him.
Once he, too, has his coffee, he leads the way to the radiator by the window. In silence we sit next to each other on the black pouffes in front of it, mere centimetres between us. A pleasant warmth radiates from his body, which makes it tempting to bridge the last couple of inches and snuggle up to him. Nonetheless, I fight the urge and instead sip the godawful coffee.
It could be a trick of the mind, caused by an on-coming cold. There is no other explanation for the sound.
140. “Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”
31. thank you for being in my life for Ian Eames and again awesome Drabbles so dear!!!❤️🤎🌹
Ian was usually so suave and always knew what to say. Right now though, he was a mess.
"What I'm trying to say is, I've been with many, many women. Wait! Not like that! Well yes, like that... but that's not what I'm trying to say. Out of all the women I've had, or the amount of women I've, slept with.. let me start over." Ian rambled, avoiding eye contact and fiddling his sweaty fingers. You stood there confused, your brows furrowed. You quite literally had no idea what he was talking about.
The conversation started normal enough, you were working on an architecture layout when Eames asked you to talk. Now you stood and watched the man jumble his words together.
"I think what I'm trying to say is, I appreciate you a lot. You mean a lot to me and I'm happy to be your friend. Thank you for being in my life. But, I don't want to be your friend anymore." He spoke, sweat forming at his brow. You frowned.
"You don't want to be my friend?" You questioned, even more confused. His eyes widened.
"No! That's not what I meant! I love being your friend! But I don't want to be your friend anymore because I fell in love with you and I want to be your boyfriend instead!" He rushed out, closing his eyes and sighing at his rash confession.
"Eames.." You began, but he was quick to cut you off.
"Look never mind, let's just forget everything I said and move on. Erase this whole conversation-"
"Ian! Would you just shut up and kiss me already?" You all but begged, hoping to put a stop to his nervous rambling. He let out a shaky breath and pulled you to him, attaching your lips. You kissed in harmony, his hands clenching your waist and your arms wrapping around his neck. You pulled away and smiled.
