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starryevermore · 1 year

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sweet memories ✧ benoit blanc

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

request: Either 3 separate ideas or all together into one: (for Knives out/Glass onion. Any character but probs best for detective Blanc)

● Getting drunk/tipsy and reminiscing their time in their training

● Blanc (?) and reader on a case and one of them gets severely hurt and it’s a choice of whether they continue to chase suspect or help the other

● one of them trying to re-enact what theoretically could have happened on a case, person b paying no attention to this, and suddenly person A is in front of them trying different death methods. Someone walking in and being horrified. Person B saying sorry, person A saying it’s normal. - anon

pairing: benoit blanc x male!reader

summary: you and benoit reminisce on your relationship.

word count: 1,613

warnings?: minor spoilers for glass onion, maybe slightly out of character benoit, established relationship, fluff, gunshot wound, mention of murder, not proofread

Benoit Blanc had not changed much since you had last seen him, you mused. Still had his beautiful, piercing blue eyes. Still had a brain that run a million miles a minute. Still managed to impress you with every single thing he does. It was almost unfair, how perfect the man sitting across from you was. At least he had one fault that you knew of. At least you could still pull out the fact that you’ve beat him at every single game of Clue you played against him. He always hated when you did that, arguing that he wasn’t good at dumb games so it wasn’t fair to keep holding that over his head. But with that sparkling twinkle in his eyes, you knew he didn’t really mean it. Benoit was a teasing man—around you, at least. To the rest of the world, he was the world’s greatest detective. But to you, he was ole Benny, an awkward fella who was a far shout from the greatest at anything.

“Ain’t seen you in a while,” he said, looking at you over the rim of his glass as he took a long sip of his drink. He set the glass down, smacking his lips. “You solve any good mysteries lately?”

“Nothing as great as you,” you said. “I mean, showing the world that Miles Brown is a complete nitwit? You’re really taking that whole eat-the-rich thing to heart.”

Benoit waved you off, shaking his head. “It was dumber than a game of Clue. Man didn’t even have the ability to come up with an original murder. Stole all his ideas from everyone.”

“Well, look on the bright side. At least you finally won a game of Clue,” you teased, leaning forward, resting your elbows on the table. “Never thought I’d see the day. Someone should put that in the history books, you know. Benoit Blanc: World’s Greatest Detective, Bested by Clue Except for that One Time.”

“That’s a terrible title for a book. Nobody’d pick it up.”

“I would.”

“Probably ‘cause you’d be the one writin’ it.”

You hummed, taking a sip of your drink. “Someone’s gotta expose you as the dork you truly are. Everyone acts like you’re some James Bond type o’ figure. They deserve to know you’re more of…I don’t know. Who’s the silliest character you can think of?”

Benoit hummed. “Clark Kent?”

“I said silliest character, not the character you’ve got the hots for!” you laughed.

“Oh, come on! The whole glasses disguise? Seriously? No one ever thought, hey this guy looks kinda sorta similar to Superman? I refuse to believe that!”

“Not everyone is as brilliant as you, Benny boy,” you said. You took another sip of your drink. “God, I hate Superman. Remember that one time, when we were working a case together? The jewelry heist case?”

Benoit’s face turned red. He probably didn’t like thinking of that case very much. You couldn’t blame him, if you were being honest. You didn’t like to think of it, either. “You know I could never forget that case.”

“All I really remember of it is bein’ in the hospital. They had stupid Superman movie playing all the time. Man of Steel, or somethin’? I used to like it before, but god, a guy can only watch that shit so many times before it gets annoyin’. I swear, if I see Henry Cavill put on that super suit again, it’d be too soon.”

“I’d prefer to remember it as the day I realized I love you,” Benoit said.

You let out a laugh. “What, it took me being on my death bed to realize you loved me?”

It had been a complete and utter disaster. It wasn’t often that you and Benoit worked together on a case. But this was a tough nut to crack, so Benoit invited you along, telling the client that if she wanted the case to be solved, it was imperative you be there, too. The client hadn’t really been willing, but recognized she had no real choice in the matter so she bit her tongue. After all, she wanted to make sure she was not the victim in the jewelry heist.

Things had gone well enough, if you were being honest. After a few false starts and some misleading clues, you and Benoit were close to triumphant. But neither of you could have expected the suspect to have a gun, much less use it.

He’d been aiming at Benoit. You panicked, your blood running cold. Before you could even think about what you were doing, you jumped and positioned yourself between Benoit and the bullet. It struck you, lodging itself in your side. You screamed as you fell, hitting the floor, hard.

Pain practically blinded you as you reached up, touching your wound. When you pulled your hand away, it was sticky with blood. You lifted your head, seeing Benoit falling to his knees, his hand covering your wound, applying pressure. You twisted your head the best you could, watching as the suspect ran.

“Go,” you whispered. You couldn’t manage to make your voice any louder. Took too much energy. “You’re gonna lose him. We won’t get another chance like this.”

“I can’t lose you,” Benoit said.

“I’ll be fine, go get him.”

“Don’t make me leave you,” Benoit whispered, leaning over you, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I love you. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

“It was an emotional moment!” Benoit argued. “It ain’t strange for things to be revealed in times of high stress, you know.”

“I know,” you said. You reached over, grabbing his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I just hate that it took you so long. To think we might have gotten together a lot sooner if I told you I loved you when I realized.”

Benoit let out a laugh so loud it practically shook the walls of the kitchen. “Oh, come on. At least when I realized, it had a sort of morbid romantic edge. Yours was just me being an idiot!”

“Well, I love when you’re an idiot.”

It was the early days in your friendship. You and Benoit had often worked together back then, honing your detective skills, bouncing ideas off each other. It felt less like a job that way. It felt more like playing a game of Clue (despite Benny’s aversion to the game). In any case, it was more fun that way. Plus, it gave you and Benoit a chance to develop some more unconventional methods of solving cases. Which is exactly what you were doing.

You and Benoit were working out how the victim may have died. You had narrowed down to a few different murder weapons that might have been it, but you and Benoit couldn’t quite figure out how it had happened. So, it was only natural that the two of you ran through some different scenarios in an effort to narrow some the possibilities.

That was how you ended up straddling Benoit, who laid on his back on the floor, his hands above his head as if he were surrendering. Your breath caught in your throat at the position. You liked it—you like it a lot. But you forced yourself to ignore the thought about what it may be like if you were in this same position with a little less clothes. You had to remain professional. You had to.

You raised your hand holding the prop knife, acting like you were going to drive it through Benoit’s chest. As you brought it down, the fake blade pushing itself into the handle, you frowned. This didn’t make sense. The victim had been fighting back, and this position didn’t give much opportunity to do it. “No, I don’t think it was like this. Here, trade places with me.”

You lifted yourself off of Benoit and laid on the floor. Benoit straddled you now. Your breath hitched as he reached down, his hands closing around your throat.

“The victim had injuries on her hands, like someone’d been tryin’ to pry her hands off of ‘em,” Benoit said.

“When the killer couldn’t do that, they kneed her in the stomach,” you continued, bring your leg up, pressing your knee into Benoit’s stomach.

“And then—”

The door opened. There was a shout. Benoit lifted his head, his face tinted red as he looked at the person who walked inside.

“Oh, god!” the person said. It was your client. Fuck. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean t-to see anything!”

“Oh, it’s not like that!” Benoit said. “We’re just tryin’ to act out the murder!”

You cleared your throat, trying to twist your head to look at her. “Totally normal. All the professionals do it.”

“I-I’ll leave you it then…”

She left as quick as she came, shutting the door behind you. As you and Benoit looked at each other again, you felt like your face was burning.

“Um, so that seems like it was the way it happened…” you mumbled.

“Right, right,” Benoit said, getting off of you. “Uh, with that done, we should start narrowing down the suspects, then.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just give me a moment and I’ll be ready.”

Because, holy fuck, how could you be in a position like this and just expect to continue on as normal?

“If you love your idiot so much then, how ‘bout you join me in the bath, then?” Benoit asked. “Gets a bit lonely in there, you know.”

Your snorted. “Fine. But we’re not staying there for a week, alright?”

“I’m sure I could convince you otherwise.”

“We’ll see.”

Oh, how you loved your silly little detective.

#benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc x male!reader #benoit blanc x you #benoit blanc x y/n #benoit blanc fic #benoit blanc fanfiction #benoit blanc fan fiction #benoit blanc fanfic #benoit blanc fan fic #starrywrites #starryevermore

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androgymagnus · 1 year

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HI JUST WANTED TO ASK did u just watch glass onion because I watched it yesterday and can see ur reblogs AND WOULD LOVE TO HEAR UR THOUGHTS!!!!!!!

Also I want to draw a fake movie poster for it so bad. It deserved nicer posters w janelle monae covered in blood fr (the glass letter ones r sexy tho)

ALSO HELP I just connected the dots that Phillip is Blancs partner oh my god. Gay people r real

LKJDFLG YEAH I DID <33 i loved it it's very good

i love it when a movie like. totally turns everything on its head at the halfway point and recontextualizes everything that's already happened. lkie. yes please bend my mind into little circles

and just generally i liked the twists and turns and it was visually interesting and like, it actually held my attention the whole time. i was never on my phone or distracted i watched the whole damn thing without pausing nine thousand times. which is a big deal for me, adhd king. like that says a lot

and there were just soooo many good little details, both ones i noticed and ones that i saw later being pointed out. and like the ending is so satisfying, kind of like a good episode of classic leverage but with a cinematic budget, where everything clicks into place and the rich asshole gets his just desserts and like. the characters are all fun (the "disruptors" are all so fun to hate, including miles, helen/andi is amazing, benoit blanc continues to be an icon in so many ways--i know people have said it before but i too am not immune to "protagonist who is genuinely kind and compassionate and wants to help people, cares more about other people than about "winning", etc" + he's so funny and i love how he takes no shit but does the whole polite southern columbo routine + he's GAY!!! god i love him so much, he's such a good main character--this kind of whodunnit gentleman detective thing can really like. the protagonist can make or break it--columbo works because columbo is so charming and endearing, other shows fail because the detective may be alright but just not compelling, or they lean too much into the "asshole genius" trope, benoit never falls into that and the fact he's consistently caring and compassionate is just. chefs kiss) and the plot was fun, it was like, well-done enough i wasn't like "that makes no sense" and even guessed some things, but was like, also still surprising and fun,,,,

like it's just a good whodunnit with strong deeply likable protagonists (both benoit blanc as the gentleman sleuth, and helen as the sorta watson of the movie/true main character--god both of them did such a good job, they're so iconic) and a satisfying ending

and such good humor!!! miles covering his chest when they mention his "golden titties", benoit yelling about how dumb it all is, him revealing the whole fake mystery immediately and getting tossed an ipad, THE ICONIC SCENE AT THE BEGINNING WITH THE PUZZLE BOXES I FUCKING CACKLED WHEN SHE SMASHED IT, etc

also dlkfgj help yeah when i first watched it i legit didn't make that connection either and then later when people were like "oh his boyfriend/husband/partner!!!" i was like oh yeah!!! yeah that tracks!!! like i'd heard he was gay but i'm fucking stupid and somehow just did NOT make that connection at all

anyway im not saying it was perfect, i'm sure it had flaws, but i really enjoyed it and i'm definitely going to force my mom to watch it when she gets home from her christmas holiday trip

would love to see these posters 👀 feel free to tag me if you post them

#i dont think i have anything new/revolutionary to say like all my thoughts ive already seen other people saying #but basically: good movie! i enjoyed it!#ive watched a lot of movies this week bc ive been all lethargic and low energy and glass onion was probably... possibly my favorite #definitely one ofm y favorites though #i also liked slumberland but that one i have some criticisms of but also i just enjoyed it so much and ALSO jason momoa as flip.#hot take i've said it once and i'll say it again: jason momoa is hotter as flip than he is as aquaman. sorry not sorry.#glass onion spoilers #askbox #kar-krashew

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rachaelswrites · 3 years

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Investigation

Part Three

Ransom Drysdale x daughter!reader

“Well I’m sure he had his reasons but we should head in for the readin’,”

You nodded and followed him back into the house.

The rest of the family was gathered in the library. They all looked at you as you entered. The only seat available was across the small table from your dad.

You sat down as your dad watched you. He could tell from your body language that you were still unhappy. He set down the chess piece in his hand and leaned closer to you, “Y/n I’m sorry. I should’ve told you that night,”

“Maybe you should just shut up,” you snapped back.

Ransom leaned back in his chair. He picked up the chess piece and messed around with it again.

You turned your attention to Alan, the man reading the will. He read the note Harlan left about the change he made the week before he died. The family not-so-secretly looked at you two. You sunk down in your seat, while your dad just smirked.

“I hereby direct that all my assets, liquid and otherwise, to be left to Marta Cabrera,”

As soon as Alan read the will, your dad stood up laughing, “Y/n let’s go. It’s about to be a shit show,”

You shook your head, “No I’m staying here,” you stayed in your chair as your dad rolled his eyes but walked away. He laughed more as he passed Marta by the doorway. She looked like a deer in headlights. You turned towards the chess board and casually started a game by yourself. Everyone else was pouncing on Marta and chased her out of the house.

A few hours later, the family was still trying to reverse the will. You were sitting outside the room with Benoit, “Do you really think Marta killed Harlan?” you asked. You believed the whole suicide thing but now, with the will out in the open, you thought someone killed him.

“What do you think?” Benoit turned in his chair and looked at you.

“I don’t know. I don’t think he killed himself,” you looked at the family which was now walking towards you and him, “They all wanted something from Harlan. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them did it,”

“Detective Blank?” Joni interrupted, “The investigation is ongoing right? Do you suspect foul play?”

“It’s Blanc actually,” you corrected. She shot you a nasty glare. Out of everyone, she hated you most. You weren’t sure why.

Benoit turned and looked at her, “There’s still a lot of unknown but, I do suspect foul play.”

“Marta?” Richard asked.

Benoit folded his hands in his lap, “I have not eliminated anyone but rest assured, Young miss Drysdale and I are working on it,”

“What do you mean?” Richard asked again looking at you, “You’re his little lackey?”

You went to defend yourself but Benoit did it for you.

“I asked her to join me. She’s been a great asset so far,”

“You’re full of shit. Both of you,” Richard walked away muttering some not-so-nice things about you while Joni followed.

“Is it always like this?”

You shrugged, “Pretty much,” you looked back at the family and saw they were huddled together, talking. Or conspiring, “I should probably get home. You know my dad,”

“I’ll drive you,”

Once you got home, you saw your dad’s Beamer in the driveway. You weren’t expecting him to be home. Benoit told you he drove off with Marta. You assumed he’d be out all night.

“Hi dad,” you said, taking off your jacket and throwing it on one of the chairs nearby.

Ransom stood up from the couch, “Where were you?”

“I was at the house. With Mr. Blanc,”

“You’re still doing that? I thought that now it was a murder investigation they’d take you off,” he walked past you into the kitchen and grabbed a drink from the fridge, “How’s it going?”

“Fine I guess,” you sat down at the kitchen table, “Where did you and Marta go?”

Ransom set his drink down, “None of your business,” he snapped.

“Jeez. I was just asking,” you looked back to apologize but he was already going upstairs to his room, “It’s not like I expected you to tell me anyway,”

“Excuse me?” He whipped around on the staircase, “What was that?”

“Really? You’re gonna act like you didn’t lie to me earlier about the will? You should’ve told me,”

Ransom stormed down the stairs back into the kitchen, “Stop. I do everything I can to benefit us. Don’t act like your life is miserable. You have everything,”

“By everything do you mean murder?”

Ransom froze, “Are you accusing me of murder? Y/n don-”

“I’m not! I’m just saying you’ve been different since the party and you don’t want me to help with the case. It’s just suspicious that’s all,”

“Y/n. Marta killed Harlan. Soon everyone will find out and we’ll get the money we deserve,” he reached out and tried to put his hand on your shoulder but you pulled away.

“Did she tell you? Or are you just guessing? Is that what you talked about?”

“Y/n think! I know you’re smart enough to figure it out. Marta was with him last,”

“But Walt saw-”

“It was late. He was probably seeing things,”

“But-”

Ransom pointed towards the stairs, “Go to bed it’s late. We can talk about this in the morning,”

You turned and headed up stairs.

“Y/n,”

“Yeah,” you called over your shoulder.

Ransom paused before replying, “I just want you to know that I love you,”

“Love you too dad,”

You woke up the next morning to a car door closing. You got up and looked out the window. Your dad was getting out of the car and going back into the house. You looked at your clock and it read six-thirty. You went out of your room and met your dad downstairs, “Dad where did you go?”

Ransom tossed a stack of mail on the table, “Good morning to you too. I just went out for a bit. Couldn’t sleep,” He sat down at the table on sifted through the mail, “Can you grab me a bagel please,”

You reached into the cupboard and grabbed a bagel for him and one for you. You sat across from him and slid it over. You got a glismp of a letter, “What’s this?” you reached for it but Ransom was quicker.

He ripped it open and his eyebrows furrowed as he read. He folded it up and shoved it in his pocket, “Nothing important. Are you going with Blanc today?’

“I don’t know,” you stood up from the table, “I’m going back to bed I’m tired,”

You woke back up to your phone buzzing. You saw missed calls from multiple people in the family. Currently it was Benoit.

“Is everything ok?”

“I’m sending an officer down to pick you up. We need you at the station,” he hung up before you could ask what happened.

You quickly got dressed and ran downstairs. You spotted the letter on the table that had upset your dad earlier. You checked the envelope and it wasn’t addressed to anyone so it technically wasn’t a federal crime to read it. You opened it but there was only a time and location written on it. It was the time your dad left the house again. He had woken you up briefly to let you know he was leaving.

You heard a police car pull into the driveway and you walked towards the door. You glanced at the coffee table and noticed something. It was the newspaper article that Benoit was in. Except his section was ripped out. The car honked and you left the house.

Your dad was waiting for you in the lobby of the police station. He jumped up when he saw you. You were visibly distraught, “Come here sweetheart,” he opened his arms for you.

“Dad what’s happening. They didn’t tell me anything,” you wrapped your arms around his torso, burying your face in his chest.

“It’s ok. They cleared me,” he put his hand on the back of your head to try and ease some of the sobs coming from you, “I’m sorry I lied again. It was Marta,”

“Why would she kill him dad?” you looked up at him.

“I don’t know. We have to go back to Harlan’s. They’re gonna get her confession and we get our part of the will,” he brushed some hair out of your face, “Y/n everything’s fine. Don’t worry,”

Taglist

@thevelvetseries

#x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #ransom drysdale daughter #ransom drysdale x teen!reader #ransom drysdale x daughter!reader #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale #knives out #knives out fanfic #series #investigation

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rebeldaydreams · 4 years

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so ive been reading your benoit one shots & headcanons and god damn they are amazing. your really talented! i was wondering if your still open for headcanons for benoit. maybe with assitant!reader. maybe his reaction when a suspect on a case beings to talke a little too much interest in them. no pressure to do it. only if you want to. hope your having a lovely day!

(Hello friends I am BACK. Sorry I’ve been gone for a while - life’s been busy!!)

Thank you so so so much aahh!! I loved this idea. Thank you for requesting + I hope you enjoy!!

words: 1.2k

pairing: Benoit Blanc x Assistant!Reader (reader’s gender not stated)

“Well thank you for your time, Mr. Wright.” Benoit said, pushing himself to his feet and extending a hand to the man sitting oppositehim. Dallas Wright was the man he’d just been questioning - one of the suspects fora potential murder. He was a tall, built man with tanned skin and dark, slickedhair.

“Happy to be of assistance. Please let me know if you need anything else, Detective.” He said, shaking Benoit’s hand.

You internally rolled your eyes at his tone. Always so overly polite, to the point where you knew it was forced. He really pissed you off and you’d barely spoken to the guy at all.

Dallas passed you on his way out of the room, stopping to extend his hand. You took it (albeit reluctantly) and shook his hand out of politeness. You loosened your grip, intending to pull away as one does after a brief handshake, but Dallas kept an uncomfortably tight hold of you.

“A pleasure, Y/N.” he drawled, giving you a smirk and lingering just a little too close.

On the other side of the room, Benoit’s hands - hidden in his pockets - clenched into tight fists and he was a few seconds from marching over and prying him off you himself. Before he could, however, Dallas finally released your hand and left, giving you a sly wink over his shoulder.

Benoit approached you, having sensed your unease from across the room.

“OK?” he asked simply.

You smiled and nodded, always touched by how Benoit looked out for you.

You spent the remainder of the investigation trying to avoid Dallas Wright. There were a few instances where you were unfortunate enough to bump into him and he’d continue with his attempts to chat you up. He always stood a little too close for your liking. On one occasion he’d actually brushed his hand against your waist and that had been enough for you to jump away, making up an excuse that you suddenly needed the bathroom.

Benoit, being the genius detective that he is, eventually solved the case after a couple days of investigating the family’s house. You’d had money on Dallas being the one responsible – he seemed sleazy enough. You idly wondered if you were a terrible person for being disappointed that the guy wasn’t guilty.

Whilst you waited out in the hallway as Benoit finalised some things with one of the family, a voice caught your attention.

“Oh, Y/N.”

Oh, fuck.

You turned to see Dallas approaching you from the kitchen, his hands in his pockets. He had a nauseating smirk on his face and the short sleeve button up he wore was undone down to below his chest. The strong scent of cheap cologne invaded your airway as he stopped in front of you.

“Was startin’ to think you’ve been avoiding me.” He said, voice low and teasing. You barely even looked up at him and forced out a laugh.

“Of course not. Just been busy with the investigation –helping Mr. Blanc, you know.” You said, hugging your own chest.

Dallas eyed you, humming quietly. “You know…”

He leaned down so that you could feel his breath ghosting across your cheek. “Blanc don’t deserve you, baby.”

The emphasis on the last word almost made you gag. He stepped forward, and in trying to move away from him your back hit the wall and you found yourself trapped.

“Back off, Dallas.” You said through gritted teeth. You tried to push him away but he just grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinnedyou.

“I really fucking love it when you struggle…” he laughed, and you felt sick to your stomach. He was a lot bigger and stronger than you,and you couldn’t even move your leg to knee him in the groin like you really wanted to.

His free hand slid up your thigh and you struggled harder. “Please,stop it-!”

He chuckled, his hand edging higher up your leg and you were about to try kicking him when he let out a surprised yelp and was abruptly tugged away from you.

“What the-?!” Dallas couldn’t finish his sentence before he was roughly pinned against the opposite wall.

“Are you hard o’ hearin’, boy?” Benoit growled, his knuckles white as he gripped the younger man’s shirt. Dallas looked at him incredulously.

“What?”

Benoit’s grip tightened and he leaned in closer, his voice barely more than a growl. “I said…are you hard of hearin’?

“No, I – Get the fuck off me, asshole!” Dallas pushed at Blanc’s arms that were pinning him, but quickly found he was overpowered by the detective.

“Huh, that’s funny, because…y/n here asked you to stop. What you were doin’ didn’t seem like you were stoppin’, to me.” Benoit said, hard gaze burning into the man in front of him.

“I-I-“ Dallas stammered. It was funny, you thought, how suddenly he was like a deer caught in headlights.

Benoit just looked at him and raised his brow slightly, waiting. Dallas sighed in defeat.

“Alright, I’m sorry! Now would you let me go?” He said, tugging at Benoit’s arms that were still pinning him. Benoit seemed satisfied with the answer and released the other man.

“Best be on your way, Mr. Wright.” Benoit said.

Dallas huffed, straightening out his clothes and pushing past the detective. He didn’t even glance at you as he made his way down the hall, slinking away with his tail between his legs.

Benoit adjusted his tie and tugged on his jacket to straighten it out. You still stood against the opposite wall, a little stunnedat Benoit’s behaviour. You’d never seen him act like that before (not that you’d tell him, but it was rather enjoyable to watch). He turned to you.

“I uh, apologise for my outburst, Y/N. But I cannot under any circumstances tolerate that kind of behaviour, especially to someone I…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck as he figured out exactly what it washe wanted to say.

“Especially to someone I care about.”

You were sure you blushed bright red up to your ears.

“You’re alright, though? He didn’t hurt you?” he asked, taking a small step towards you.

“I’m fine. Thank you for that, Mr. Blanc.” You beamed up athim, and your heart fluttered at the small chuckle that escaped him.

“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Benoit?” He smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Sorry, Benoit.” You said, looking up into those icy blue eyes of his.

The sound of his first name on your tongue was like music to his ears. He checked his watch.

“Y’know, if we leave now we might be able to grab a bite at that Italian place down the road before it closes.” He said.

“Yes please - I am starving.” You said eagerly.

“As am I.” He said with a chuckle, clapping a gentle hand onyour shoulder and steering you towards the door. “Dinner’s on me.”

#benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc x you #benoit blanc #benoit blanc imagine #knives out #knives out imagine #my fics #owlyannah

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vintagedaydreams · 4 years

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Knives Out Imagine Part Three

Detective Blanc x Female Reader

This is the END! Thanks so much for reading! I enjoyed this little story – hope you did too!

Warnings: Spoilers!!, mention of death/suicide/murder, language, suggestive themes at the end, innuendo and such because, I’ll say it again, suspenders!!

((On a side note, did anyone else know which Murder, She Wrote episode it was after just the two seconds on screen?? …because I did and I’m not sure how I feel about that. 😊 ))

@joalsglasses @yo-skeletons @elroymarvelous @bella-maria2018

You were just putting the finishing touches on your lunch, when you heard a loud knock at your cottage door.

With an expectant grin, you headed over and opened it, revealing Benoit who looked…upset?

“That family,” he growled out, as he pushed his way into your cottage, though he squeezed your arm with a gentleness that belied his apparent irritation as he swept past you.

You felt a flush sweep across your face and you quickly shut the door before turning to face him with what you hoped was a nonchalant look.

You failed. That damn man was going to be the death of you.

Not only was he ranting about the family, his voice deepening and accent thickening in such a way that you honestly weren’t listening to what he was saying as much as how he was saying it, but he had also discarded his suit jacket and was currently rolling up his shirt sleeves in jerky, frustrated movements.

Hot damn.

If you thought you were red in the face before, you must’ve been fire engine red by now. You subtly reached up to make sure you weren’t drooling. ‘Cause you pretty sure you were.

“…don’t you think?” you tuned back in to hear Benoit ask. You blinked at him, wide eyed and quite mortified that you’d been checking him out rather than listening to what he was saying.

“I don’t...I mean, I wasn’t…I—what was the question?” you stuttered out. Benoit looked you over, brow furrowed, before his eyes suddenly took on a devilish glint and you swallowed thickly as he seemed to stalk his way over to you. You couldn’t help the way your eyes traveled down his torso as he moved, feeling your mouth dry up at the sight of suspenders.

The ‘last of the gentleman sleuths’ indeed.

“Now, I wonder what has caught your attention so much that you missed the entire conversation,” Benoit murmured, his voice a husky tone you had not heard before. You felt your entire body tingle as you realized how close he was. Every time you breathed, your chest brushed his slightly and you just knew your face was red once again. If it had ever stopped being red to begin with.

“(Y/N)?” Benoit purred, breath ghosting over your lips. You gulped, staring up into electric blue eyes, but unable to say anything. You weren’t honestly sure what would come out of your mouth if you did try to speak anyway. Probably something incredibly embarrassing.

“Well,” the detective suddenly grinned after a few more moments of silence, looking all too satisfied with himself, “since a conversation seems to be out of the question for the moment, how about lunch? Do you have something here, or should we go out?”

Benoit took a few steps back and you suddenly felt able to breath again. Nodding somewhat absently, you gestured to the kitchen and you were gifted with a dastardly smirk before Benoit brushed past you and headed into the kitchenette.

You released a shaky breath and closed your eyes once he disappeared into the other room.

Yup. The man was going to be the death of you.

Thankfully for your already shaken frame of mind, Benoit seemed to behave himself for the rest of the afternoon.

Lunch passed pleasantly, and you were able to actually make intelligent conversation, (even with suspenders and forearms on display across the table from you), and you were ridiculously proud of yourself for that.

Instead of eating and dashing, as you were a bit worried he’d do, Benoit stayed in your cottage for hours after lunch. You both spoke through the entire afternoon, though not really about the case. Instead, you spoke to get to know each other and you found that you actually had quite a few things in common.

Which didn’t help the crush that was growing at an alarming rate.

Benoit finally called it a day when you couldn’t keep your yawns to yourself anymore. It was early, but you hadn’t slept much the night before, thanks to the man in front of you plaguing your thoughts. Ever the gentleman, Benoit left when he saw you beginning to nod off, letting himself off and locking the door behind him.

You slowly got ready for bed, before collapsing onto your mattress. You were exhausted, but exhilarated at the same time. You didn’t exactly know what was going on between you and Detective Blanc, but you were looking forward to finding out.

--------

The next morning found you once again up a ladder, but this time, you had it leaning against the house, and you were working on cleaning up some of the climbing ivy that covered parts of the building. Wouldn’t do for it climb right over windows or into gutters.

“Good morning,” you heard from the foot of the ladder and you looked over your shoulder to see Benoit standing there, thankfully all covered up in his heavy wool sweater jacket.

“Good morning,” you returned with a grin and a nod. “What brings you here this early?”

��I was hoping to steal some of your time again, (Y/N). If you can spare it.”

You turned as much of your body as you could without falling off the ladder to look down at him.

“What do you need, Benoit?”

“Someone to bounce ideas off of again. I need to talk this all out and I was hoping you could help with that. If you can concentrate today.”

You gaped at the playful smirk that stole across his face and your face heated.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, “yeah. Yeah, I can help you out, Benoit. But if it’s okay with you, can we continue outside today? I need to get this done.”

You actually didn’t need to get this done, at least not today, but you were not going to let that man get you both inside and distract you so badly this time. You’d show him that you could still concentrate and keep up with his conversation! …You just wouldn’t mention that the only way you could do that was if he was in about three layers and outside in 30-degree weather.

You were so screwed.

“Of course,” came the amused response from below you. “Whatever you need.”

You bit your lip hard on that one. Whatever you need, indeed. Boy, was that list growing steadily and it all involved the man beneath your ladder too. But best to derail that train of thought before you lost your concentration again.

“Now, there’s a piece to this puzzle that I’m missing, (Y/N),” Benoit began, and you used all your admittedly limited concentration to follow along with everything he said. You could daydream, (and ogle the man), at a different time.

As Benoit began recapping all that had happened, both at the will reading and before, you actually stopped working and turned back to face him as best you could.

“Wait, wait, wait. So Marta was his beneficiary? Harlan left her everything?”

“Yes,” was the simple reply, blue eyes looking at you carefully. You suddenly threw your head back and laughed.

“Oh, I am so sorry I missed that! I bet that absolutely killed the rest of the family! How’d they take it?” you asked eagerly. Finally! Ol’ Harlan took his blasted family down a few hundred pegs!

Benoit gave a chuckle and dutifully played back the family’s reactions, his grin growing wider each time you laughed delightedly.

“Oh, I hope she kicks them all out and leaves them with nothing,” you sang as you turned back to the ivy. “They certainly don’t deserve any more than that!”

“I would hope so too, but I have a feeling she’ll help them out.”

You snorted as you tore off a few branches of ivy and tossed them down, “Yeah, wouldn’t surprise me. Marta is such an angel, I love her. But she’s too damn nice. But, enough about that. Sorry to interrupt. You were saying?”

Benoit kept up his talking, sometimes repeating the same thing over and over, but in different ways as you kept working, sometimes moving the ladder to get to another section. Listening to it all from his point of view, you agreed.

Something was off; there was something missing. But unfortunately, you had absolutely no idea what. When you told Benoit as much, he smiled and assured you that you were helping immensely, just by letting him bounce ideas off of you. Even if a few of them were so ridiculous, they made you laugh again. But you secretly suspected that was his ploy all along.

Benoit was right in the middle of spinning another crazy scenario when his phone went off. After a brief conversation, he raised a hand in farewell to you and started running back to the driveway, still on his phone.

You watched him go with a furrowed brow, worried. That worry increased when he practically peeled out of the driveway, but you turned back to you work once he was out of sight.

Hopefully, he’d tell you when he returned.

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

It was later that afternoon, much later, when Benoit returned, this time with Marta in her car. Neither one seemed to notice you as they went right inside and you went back to your work in the yard.

You desperately hoped that everything was okay. Neither one had seemed in a good mood and you hoped it had nothing to do with whatever made Benoit leave in such a rush that morning.

You zoned out as you worked, mind running in circles about what could have happened, and what was happening right now inside, and you jumped as you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Spinning, you saw Trooper Wagner looking at you somewhat worried.

“Miss (Y/L/N), are you alright? I called your name a few times, but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, face flushing. “I was lost in thought.”

Trooper Wagner looked like he was going to question you further, but shook his head slightly before saying, “Detective Blanc would like to see you inside, if you can.”

You blinked, surprised, but stood, brushing yourself off and followed Trooper Wagner inside and back into the Knife Room.

To your surprise, there was only Benoit, Detective Elliot, Marta and Ransom in the room. You threw Ransom a confused look, though he didn’t see it since he was sitting, facing away from you.

Why on earth was that prick here? You were honestly surprised he hadn’t cut and run. Then again, if Marta had gotten everything… Oh dear.

You tuned into what Benoit was already revealing, this time having no problem concentrating on what he was saying, though you did notice in the back of your mind that he was once again jacket-less with his shirtsleeves rolled up.

The more Benoit revealed, the more disgusted and horrified you became. Ransom…he did that? To his own grandfather? And poor Marta… He tried to frame her and then used her when that didn’t work and all for…

And Fran? He’d taken out Fran too? Because she saw what he was doing and...oh, Fran. Why didn’t you just go to the police? Ransom may have been a trust fund baby, but he was so much stronger than her. And he not only attacked her but again framed Marta? Good, sweet Marta?

You felt anger thrum through you suddenly and you desperately wished you had bashed Ransom over the head with a shovel years ago. There was plenty of property, plenty of places to hide a body and no one would have been the wiser. They would have assumed he was just off and doing his own thing, not that he’d been taken out by one of the ‘help’.

It was no less than what that bastard deserved.

A shout brought your focus back to the present and you watched, wide eyed and horrified as Ransom jumped at Marta, knife in hand. They collapsed on the floor together and you shut your eyes, sure you had just seen the only good person involved with this awful family murdered by the self-serving, greedy, pretentious little shit.

You were not sure you could take another death. Definitely not Marta’s!

Ransom’s soft exclamation made you tentatively crack an eye open and you collapsed on the seat next to you in sheer relief when you saw that Marta was alive and okay. Shook up, but okay.

Heart beating widely, you closed your eyes again, leaning back in the chair as you heard the Detective and Trooper take Ransom into custody.

This was all a bit much for you. And Marta! Poor Marta, to be going through what she did. To think that she had thought she was responsible for Harlan’s death all that time… Why hadn’t she come to you? Asked for help? Tried to tell you what was going on?

You snapped your eyes open to look at Benoit. When did he know? When had he found out that Marta was a ‘good nurse’ and it wasn’t her fault? Hell, when had he found out what had happened? As of this morning, he was apparently missing a very important piece to all this.

Benoit caught your eyes and gave a subtle shake of his head, gesturing slightly to Marta.

You nodded back. Right. Marta definitely came first. You’d, hopefully, get questions answered later.

Heaving yourself off the chair, you slowly approached her, still laying on the ground.

“Marta?” you murmured softly, registering that Benoit moved back to the other side of the room to give you two space, without leaving.

Brown eyes shot to yours and Marta was suddenly up and wrapping her arms around you, still shaking.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N)! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you! I didn’t want to worry you, and I thought maybe you might blame me, even though it was an accident and then Ransom helped me get away from the family and he tricked me into telling him what I’d done and he seemed so genuine and I thought that I could trust him, and—”

“Marta,” you interrupted, “Marta! Stop, stop talking. It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m not mad at you. I wished you would have come and talked to me, yes. But I understand. That was… a lot for Harlan to put on you, even though he meant well. It’s okay. You’re okay. Just,” you pushed her away slightly so you could meet her eyes, “know that I would not have blamed you, okay? You heard Benoit. You’re a good nurse. And even if you had accidentally mixed up the medication, it would have been an accident. You are the best thing that’s happened to Harlan in forever. Never forget that. Okay?”

Marta sniffed, nodding, before pulling you back in for a hug.

“I didn’t do anything with him,” she blurted suddenly after a few moments of silent hugging. “I don’t know why he left me everything but it wasn’t like that, not like they all suggested.”

You barked a laugh, feeling more lighthearted than you had since Harlan’s death.

“Marta, I certainly know better than to think that there was anything between you and Harlan other than friendship. He left you everything because the man knew you’d do good with it and that his family was not worth their weight in shit.” Cue a snort from Benoit’s side of the room. “Please, Marta. Don’t take anything they say to heart. They’re a bunch of jealous, selfish, greedy assholes and you’re so far above their league. You’re a good person, Marta. That’s why Harlan left everything to you.”

You gave her a smile, standing up before reaching down to help her up.

“Now, come on. Let’s go get something to drink to settle both of our nerves, okay?”

You looked over your shoulder at Benoit as you and Marta left the room and he gave you a nod and a smile.

Good. Hopefully he’d come and find you at your cottage once you had Marta all settled.

It didn’t take as long as you thought it might, getting Marta set up with a blanket and some coffee. You gave a small smile as she chose Harlan’s mug, “My House, My Rules, My Coffee”, and you hoped the rest of the family would see it. Not only was it Harlan’s favorite mug, but the house was now Marta’s. Beautiful irony.

Oh, you sincerely hoped that she kicked them all out on their rears.

You slipped out to your cottage once Marta was set. She looked like she may need a little bit of time to herself to come to terms with all that had been revealed just a half hour prior. It was a lot to take in. She had a lot of guilt that she had been needlessly carrying around, thanks to both Ransom and Harlan. She needed some time to get her head on straight.

And you? Well, you were actually going for something stronger than coffee after that.

What an absolute mess. A tragedy of errors. Oh, Harlan, you theatrical idiot.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the whiskey and a glass out of your cupboard. Usually, you mixed it but right now, you needed it strong.

You had just lifted the cup to your lips when your cottage door opened and Benoit walked in.

You didn’t have a chance to do more than blink at him before he was right in front of you, gently taking the glass from your frozen fingers and setting it down on the counter.

“What—”

Your back meeting the kitchen wall behind you cut off your sentence and you stared wide eyed at the man pressed against you, his arms bracketing you in on either side.

You were pressed so close to him, you could feel his chest move with every breath and a full body shiver ran through you. His blue eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he noticed.

Shit. And he wasn’t even showing off his suspenders this time!

“Tell me if I’m wrong, (Y/N), but I think we have some…chemistry between us that I’d like to explore further.”

Your mind blanked out for a moment as he dipped his head; you were sure he was going to kiss you. Instead, he brushed his lips across your cheek to your ear and hello, erogenous zone you didn’t know you had.

“What do you think?” he murmured, his lips barely grazing your ear as he spoke.

What did you think? You thought that your brain just short circuited, all thoughts about the case completely deserted you, because the only thing you could focus on was his scent, the feel of his chest pressed against yours, and the fact that his lips were not on yours right now. Why weren’t they on yours?

Your heart skipped a few beats as you felt his lips pull up into a smile.

“As much as I’d like to take your silence as you being swept away by my presence,” he said teasingly, and the small part of your brain that was still semi functioning scoffed – the bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you! – “I’d much rather hear it from your lips, sweetheart.”

A small sound escaped you, somewhere between a whimper and a whine. That accent murmuring in your ear and a pet name? This man was going to be the death of you!

His low chuckle reverberated through you. “Not quite what I had in mind, but I’ll take it.”

Deliriously, you found yourself certainly hoping he’d take it. And you. Here will do just fine, thanks.

Benoit pulled back just far enough to be able to see your face and he chuckled again. Probably at the dazed look on your face. Were you drooling again?

“Now, Y/N, before we go too much farther, how about dinner, hm?”

You blinked, desperately trying to get your brain to reboot. After all of that, he was suddenly talking about dinner?

“…What?” you managed to get out after a moment.

Blue eyes twinkled at you. “My momma always taught me to treat a woman to dinner first, Y/N. Preferably more than one.”

You must’ve had some doozy of an expression on your face because Benoit actually laughed and then cupped your face. “In this case, I think that Momma will be content with just the one. What do you say? Dinner first?”

Your brain suddenly jumped back into gear with a vengeance. The sooner you two had dinner then the sooner you could—

“Let’s go!” You ducked around Benoit and bolted for your jacket in the other room, the man’s laughter following you the whole way.

Sure, sure. You’d do dinner first.

But only if you couldn’t convince the man otherwise on the way into town.

#THE END #Knives Out Imagine #Benoit Blanc x Reader #Reader Insert

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regrettablewritings · 3 years

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( @locke-writes I’m just blobbing my replies to your reblogs in one post so you won’t be bombarded. Hope that’s okay . . .)

(Also sorry I’m only now responding; the last few days have included me ready to wear a person like a boot so if it helps, your comments have been an oasis 8].)

When They Get Jealous:

3/5 of those characters are just absolute bastards when jealous and it’s a delight to write 2 of those bastards come undone at the seams just because their s/o could probably sort of maybe (at least, in the case of Digger) do better~

Benoit Blanc headcanons: If I were secretly a character I wrote for, you say? Well then -- *slowly removes mask* Okay but seriously, that’s so sweet and I do not deserve such a compliment!! 😭😭😭 Also, Benoit is surprisingly easy to write for?? (I mean, so long as I don’t gotta write about him being especially smart about a mystery or what have you because as much as I enjoy mysteries, I can’t write them for shit.) He’s pretty upfront with who he is as a person, so really the main difficulty is trying to search the thesaurus to find words that better suit his flamboyant vocabulary. Like, he’s simultaneously a man who could spin a tapistry out of his words and then turn right around and call somebody an asshole.

DJ Soulmate AU: I’m glad you remember this bastard. I’m glad you’re delighted that I wrote for this bastard. I am surprised that I have as many notes as I do on the fic, indicating that there are some people out there who both remember and liked this bastard. I feel filthy for having written this bastard. Writing for DJ is like somebody in a dramedy insisting that they won’t sleep with their sleazy ex, or some piggish rando they just met at a gathering. And then it jumpcuts to them in bed, lying in the aftermath. DJ is the walking version of sex you know you’ll regret in the end, but you go through with it anyway. Also, apparently DJ’s last lie is a favorite: The person I had read over it also very much enjoyed that line, so I’m pretty glad it stuck the landing!

You Move In Together: *reuses winking Rihanna gif**doesn’t reveal how I scruggled to make Dewey sound like a decent person to live with while remaining true to his chaotic nature* I try~ But in all seriousness AAAHHHHHHHH TOO KIND TOO KIND TOO DAMN KIND I LITERALLY HIMMED AND HAWED OVER THIS AND I’M HYPE IT TURNED OUT OKAY!!!! Also, the grocery bags in one trip thing is everybody’s dream; it would make perfect sense that the man who can do anything could feasibly do that -- if only it didn’t draw so much attention :(

Cassian headcanons: FACKITHOUGHTIWASMISSINGONE!!! Ahem . . . It should be stated that of the members of Rogue One, Bodhi and Cassian are the ones most capable of mother henning it. However, Bodhi’s is more obvious while Cassian’s is harder to notice because he’s so stony-faced and stubborn. But let it never be said that he doesn’t care for the person he chooses to be with. Cassian doesn’t pick his company easily, so if he considers you someone worth keeping an eye on, you’d better recognize your importance! (I casually await for the Cassian Disney+ series to completely obliterate everything I’ve headcanoned for this man.)

Peter B. Parker headcanons: fist, no, I’m putting you on blast, suffer. Second, if Peter is anything like Nick Miller, then he probably considers the worst things to be romantic. He turns up his crooked nose at Titanic (as he should), but thinks it’s genuine love in, like, I dunno. Insert movie of your choice with a non-problematic but still very weird love plot. Third, thank yoooouuuu!!! (Though I’ll be real, I think what makes it easy for me to write Peter is that I clearly got some Daddy Issues rattling around in there because I love this sad sack of older man to a disappointing degree, it’s not even funny or cute. But it does allow me to have the authority to blast you in public over your love for him as well ;3c)

Once again THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!!!

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amandajeanwrites · 4 years

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A Love Letter to Knives Out

As my husband says, Rian Johnson’s Knives Out has been out for a long time now (aka two months, which I guess is a long time in Hollywood), but we just went to see it (took him long enough to take me!!!) and I can’t not talk about it.

For those of you who don’t know, Knives Out is the ultimate manor-house, family-values, murder mystery. One week after thriller novelist, Harlan Thrombey, commits suicide, the world renowned private investigator, Benoit Blanc, receives a wad of cash in the mail and a request to investigate the mysteries surrounding Thrombey’s demise. Thrombey’s family of white socialites are asked to return to the manor for further questioning in which you learn about the happenings on Harlan’s 85th birthday the night before he died.

The film is a mash-up of perfectly timed flash backs, done in the hilarious point-of-view of the most recent character in question, but most of the film is seen through the stunning green gold eyes of Thrombey’s nurse, Marta Cabrera, who was the last person to see him alive. It’s an exciting who-done-it jampacked with family drama, white privelege, and sour (not to mention famous) faces, and I enjoyed every last morsel.

I’ll try not to get into spoiler land too much here, as I mainly just need to talk about how much this film inspired me. As a writer, specifically one who’s been struggling through writing mystery and thrillers myself, I was enthralled with every tiny decision Rian Johnson made, both with the screenwriting and direction. He knew the formula perfectly, implanting props and clues at the beginning that would definitely come to life later.

I feel like before I even get into the writing though, I need to discuss production and set design, as the Thrombey family home completely blew me away. The outside of the house, besides being perfect for the kind of Clue-esque murder mystery novel, was merely unremarkable compared to the props and set dressing that was done inside. Before bed, I read every article I could interviewing the set decorator, David Schlesinger. I just had to know what informed all of the tiny details in this over-the-top, ornate home.

He said he based every single prop off of a novel that Harlan Thrombey would have written over the past sixty years. From there, he sourced the majority of antiques locally in the Boston area as the character would have done. I caught only a handful of odds and ends in the background, as the plot and characters keep sucking your focus back, but I can’t wait to see it again to see what else I can catch.

Okay, back to the writing. Rian Johnson’s attention to detail wasn’t the only thing I pulled inspiration from. The man clearly loves murder mysteries, as this story was reminiscent of all of those classics we all know and love, but he took so many major spins on those tropes, so nothing felt predictable. You really had no idea who to blame until the very last few minutes of the film. Every single character has a motive and not a one has an air-tight alibi.

One of the ways he brilliantly diverts expectations is in the use of a main character. Marta Cabrera, played by Ana de Armas, the nurse, is the daughter of an immigrant woman, working hard to keep her family afloat and safe. She’s great at her job, forming a close bond with Harlan and his family. She seems to have a heart of gold. (She has a literal disorder where lying makes her vomit.)

She’s refreshing. I guess that’s what I’m getting at. Typically in these scenarios, we’re seeing everything through the eyes of the madcap detective (we’ll get to him in a moment), a strong-jawed, handsome gentleman who is seeing everything for the first time and is just learning the personalities of the characters through their faults and guilt. Through Marta, we’ve seen it before. We know them. We know how disgustingly obtuse the family is. We know they don’t care about her or where she’s from. We see the guilt before it’s ascertained. It’s just a beautiful twist.

Also, someone pointed out on Tumblr that Marta’s character is refreshing, as woman, because she isn’t sexualized AT ALL. In the entire movie, never once do we see her in a revealing outfit. She’s often dressed as an innocent, middle class working woman, in normal, comfortable clothing. Not once do we see her snuggled up against the incredible sexy bad boy of the family, Ransom, an obvious pick for a love interest. She’s just a girl observing the family do horrible things, and not once is she sexually harassed for it. It’s incredible. This is what we want more of, Hollywood! (Louder for the people in the back!!!)

Going back to the point, however, that every character has a motive, Marta isn’t as innocent as she seems, and it makes for some incredibly poignant and emotional scenes which shockingly moved me to well up. That’s another part of the genius of this film, the emotions. One minute, you could be cackling out loud about a ridiculous comment made by the Alt-Right grandson, and the next minute you could be sympathizing for the characters who lost the patriarch of the family.

It filled me with nostalgia, not only for other murder mysteries of this caliber, but because at one point, I leaned over to my husband and said “Oh my God, these are like my family get-togethers.” The family argued politics. They laughed and danced and partied. They told eat other to “eat shit” and got in fist fights. They cried, holding each other in apologies.

Aside from the family, comedic relief also came in the form of the aforementioned madcap detective, Benoit Blanc, played by Daniel Craig. Blanc, a detective straight from Civil War era Georgia, comes into the family with new eyes but old wisdom through experience. He figures everything out within the first fifteen minutes but struggles through the details for the rest of the film in waxing monologues about baked goods that will have you rolling. He teams up with Marta, “Watson” as he calls her, to unsheathe the dagger completely, so to speak. Their chemistry together truly makes the film.

I could go on and on about the rest of the characters and their perfect imperfections, but I have to go on to why I wanted to write this post in the first place. If you want to talk characters and actors (Toni Collette though!?!?), hit me up on Instagram @amandajeanwrites and I will discuss it with you for DAYS. (Shameless plug.)

So the point, of all of this, was how I left the theatre feeling insurmountably inspired. Not only was the writing impeccable, full of details and heart and soul and emotion, rounded characters, a set beginning middle and end, but at the heart of it all was a man successful for writing dozens of mystery and thriller novels. I know that sounds wild, that I was most inspired by the character who dies at the beginning, but truly I was.

Harlan Thrombey is everything a writer aspires to. He has amazing success. He lives in the dream home. He has a mostly healthy (although ridiculous) family who loves him very much. He took them all under his wings to support them financially because his success gives him the means to help. He takes Marta in, although as his nurse at first, and befriends her and takes care of her and her family as well. And he’s able to do all of this because of his imagination.

Throughout the film, one of the police officers on the case is geeking out about the various set pieces because he’s a huge fan of Harlan’s work. I think every author wants that sort of fandom. Someday, I’d love a mansion full of brats and a stranger to come in and tell me how proud he is of my work and how honored he is to be in my home.

I don’t know, I guess that aspect of it just really filled me with joy, and it pushed me to keep moving forward. I will have that house someday. I could, you know, go without the murder part of it. Let’s leave those for the novels.

TL;DR, Knives Out was an incredible representation of the murder mystery genre, and it’s going up on my list of favorite films of all time. Rian Johnson deserves all of the awards this season, as do his cast and crew. Bravo to all.

Oh, also, thanks as always, for reading xo

Let me know in the comments if there’s a particular film that inspires you to keep pursuing your passions.

#knives out #chris evans #toni collette #rian johnson #jamie lee curtiss #don johnson #jaeden martell #katherine langford #michael shannon #daniel craig #ana de armas #lakeith stanfield #christopher plummer #writer #mystery #clue #author #authortube

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just-a-spark · 4 years

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The Before, and The After Part 11

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (18+ to be safe)

Series Masterlist

Summery: A wealthy classmate of Meg’s becomes close to the family, a little too close to the playboy grandson of Harlan Thrombey. The events leading up to, and following, Harlan Thrombey’s death.

Elizabeth locked herself away in her bathroom, taking her time in the shower and doing her makeup. She wasn’t in any hurry to go back out into the world.

Benoit Blanc swore he wouldn’t tell her husband, family, or the Thrombeys about what she’d told him. She all but admitted Ransom knew what Harlan’s will said, and that was enough to bring him in. She didn’t believe Ransom killed Harlan, but if any of them had the capacity to make a murder look like a suicide, it was Hugh Drysdale.

“Honey? Are you alright?” Phillip asked softly through the door, “It’s almost one, do you want something to eat?”

Elizabeth looked down as her phone began to ring. Seeing it was Meg, she looked up and called, “I’m fine. I had a big breakfast!”

She answered the phone and pressed it to her ear eagerly, “Hello?”

“They’re gathering all of us. The cops say they know who killed Granddad.”

Elizabeth lifted her head to look in the mirror from her perch on the edge of the jacuzzi tub, “Who?”

“They haven’t said. They just said to all come together at the house.” Meg explained quietly, then added, “Lizzie, I feel like shit. I told my family about Marta’s mom being illegal.”

“Why?”

“They needed something on her to get her to give us the money-”

“You fucking blackmailed her?” Elizabeth snarled and Meg was silent. “I’m sorry. Sorry. Everything is just a fucking mess.”

“It’s almost over.” Meg muttered through her sigh, “Will you come over? Moral support?”

“I don’t know if I should, you’re family thinks I was banging Harlan...”

Meg laughed loudly, “I know you weren’t banging Harlan. He was helping you write. They read one letter, they don’t even know what the rest were about. Come over, please? It would mean a lot to me.”

Elizabeth groaned and rubbed her face, “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there within the hour.”

“Thank you! Love you!” Meg kissed through the phone and hung up, so Elizabeth went to the mirror and applied her mascara and painted her lips blood red to match her curly hair.

Elizabeth convinced Phillip to let her go to see Meg alone. Despite his pleading, she told him the honest truth, she had a history with the family, and she needed to be there with them to find out what happened to the patriarch.

With a wary stare, he let her go, and she felt relief wash over her as she drove back to Harlan’s house. She was hopeful that this would clear everything up and that they could all move on and everything would be fine.

She parked, seeing all the cars spread along the drive along with several cop cars and officers policing the building. “Can we help you Miss?” One of the cops asked as Elizabeth got out of the car, but Meg quickly came trotting down the stairs to her rescue.

“She’s with me, she’s family.” Meg said, glaring at the cops and leading Elizabeth toward the house. When they reached the door, Lizzie pulled her friend into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry Meg. I’m so ready for this to all end, for your sake.”

“Thank you for being here through it all. I know things were weird with Granddad and you before your wedding, but he still cared a lot about you. We all do.”

“And I care about you all, too. Especially you. You’re my Little Sister.” Lizzie teased and hugged Meg again, “Is your family going to kill me?”

“No. They are too anxious to hear what the Detective has to say. They’ll barely know you’re there.” Meg explained, leading her into the sitting room.

Lizzie stopped in the entrance when they all looked up to see her, a rush of words wafting her way.

“Oh, if it isn’t the little harlet-”

“...honey, I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable...”

“Leave the poor girl alone, she’s mourning, just like the rest of us-”

“Eliza?”

Lizzie blinked rapidly as the voices blended together, hearing one break through the rest as her eyes drew to the back of the room. Ransom looked around at his family in confusion, then took two steps towards Lizzie, “Am I missing something here?”

“Oh, yeah, remember when you took off with Marta and left us all in the dust? This little slut was writing love letters with your grandfather!” Linda snarled as Richard held her back and Joni glared at her sister in law.

Ransom looked from Lizzie to his mother, then back to the redhead again, “What?”

“Meg, I know she’s your friend, but I want that little whore out of this-”

“If you call her one more name that isn’t her own, I’ll punch your-” Ransom started to growl as he stormed toward his mother, but Richard and Lizzie both started toward him to push him back.

Lizzie stared up at him with big, terrified eyes and he softened a little in her gaze until there was a gasp from the couch.

“The letters aren’t from Harlan, they’re from Ransom.” Joni gawked, and Linda’s mouth dropped so fast it almost hit the floor.

“Hugh... you’re- you’ve been... oh!” Linda stammered as she took a step toward her son, but he just grabbed Lizzie’s arms and she sighed.

“Can I talk to you in private? Please?” Lizzie requested softly and Ransom began to lead her out toward the patio, but they were stopped when Meg called out, “Is the baby Phil’s? Or Ransom’s?”

Linda practically fell over into her husband’s arms as Joni gasped happily, “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes. Yes, I am pregnant.” Lizzie said quickly, then followed up with, “It’s Phil’s. My husband’s.” She looked up to Ransom, seeing how hurt he looked, “Hugh and I haven’t been together since- in a long time. It was years ago.”

“So calm your tits.” Ransom called back, then tugged Lizzie away to talk as his family sat in silence.

Lizzie looked back toward the room and whispered, “We could have pretended those letters were from Harlan, that was always the plan.”

“No. I won’t have them thinking you were fucking my grandfather. You were fucking me and no one else.” Ransom growled as he leaned forward, bending his head down to press his forehead to hers. “You came alone.”

“I didn’t know what I’d find out. I’m scared you did it.” Lizzie admitted, grabbing a hold of his grey sweater and clenching it for dear life, “Please, please tell me you didn’t kill Harlan.”

“I didn’t kill Harlan. I swear on my life.” Ransom told her before looking over her head and whispering, “Marta killed him.”

“What?” Lizzie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, “No... that’s not possible...”

“It was an accident. She switched his medications on accident, you know Marta would never hurt him.” Ransom explained quickly, “I told the detectives everything, but Marta’s coming in now. She’ll explain what happened.”

Lizzie felt a weight lifted off of her and wrapped her arms around Ransom’s torso, “I’m so happy to hear you say that. Not that Marta did it, but I was worried-”

“You really think I’d kill my own grandfather?” Ransom asked, but Lizzie noted that he wasn’t surprised. She raised her brows and he shrugged, “I was livid. Especially after our conversation... but Eliza, this changes everything. The slayer rule- it’ll revert Harlan’s will back to its previous version. I’ll get my cut of the inheritance, and it’s a lot. My family knows about us now, and they love you, they’ll be so excited.” At Lizzie’s blank expression Ransom amended, “Then let’s take the money and run away together. I’ll raise that kid like it’s my own if that’s what it takes. We can take off now and not look back, what do you say?”

Lizzie ground her teeth a little, considering Ransom’s offer, but they were interrupted by the door opening and Blanc and Marta entering the house.

Lieutenant Elliott approached, studying the pair curiously, “If you wouldn’t mind heading to the sitting room. They’ll be there in a moment.”

Ransom grabbed Lizzie’s hand and followed Elliott into the room, finding a spot behind the couch between him and Trooper Wagner. Lizzie shot Wagner a dirty look when she caught him staring at their entwined hands.

Linda looked over her right shoulder at them and beamed, and Lizzie stared up at Ransom in confusion, “You do realize I’m married to somebody else right?”

“Won’t be a problem, he’s a lawyer. Should be easy to get a divorce.”

“Ransom.” She hissed as Marta appeared in the doorway, catching everyone’s attention. Marta gave a confused tilt of her head as she noticed Ransom holding Lizzie’s hand and the redhead yanked her hand away, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at the woman.

“Um, you guys have always been good to me and what I’m about to say isn’t going to be easy and you’re going to be upset, especially after what you’ve been through the past few days, but I thought you deserved to hear it from me-”

Blanc shoved his way in front of Marta to address the family, “Excuse me, you have not been good to her. You have all treated her like shit! You’re a pack of- vultures at the feast! Knives out and beaks bloody! But you’re not getting bailed out, not this time! Miss Cabrera has decided definitely not to renounce the inheritance!”

“What?” Marta asked, turning around to face Blanc. Lizzie looked up to Ransom, who narrowed his eyes and slackened his jaw, clearly upset by the spectacle.

Blanc wasn’t done with his spiel yet though, continuing on, “Furthermore, it will be my professional recommendation that the manner of death in the case of Harlan Thrombey be ruled a suicide! Case closed!”

“What?” Ransom spat out, and Lizzie held grabbed his arm protectively as Blanc drug Marta out of the room. Ransom looked on in a daze, then looked to Lizzie, “No. Harlan didn’t commit suicide.”

“How can you be so sure?” Lizzie whimpered quietly, and Ransom stared at her with wild, terrified eyes. She shook her head and turned from him, but he pulled her back to the window to speak to her away from the rabble.

“Hey, hey Eliza, don’t- don’t doubt me now. We’re gonna be alright-”

“Mr. Drysdale, Detective Blanc would like to speak with you.” Trooper Wagner said as he appeared in the room, “He also requests that everyone else wait outside as he conducts some more questions.”

“Hugh. Hugh, why are they taking you? Tell me now-” Lizzie hissed as Trooper Wagner approached to take him away.

“I’m sure Blank just wants me to reiterate my story, everything is fine. Eliza, look at me, everything is fine.” Ransom promised as he was led out of the room after his family, but Eliza stayed by the window a moment, feeling her whole world crashing down.

“Ma’am? Ma’am I’m going to need you to come with me.” An officer told her and she nodded numbly.

“I don’t know why I keep coming back. I just can’t give it up. They’re like a drug.” She droned on in a trance, realizing what was happening. “I think it’s all my fault.”

Elizabeth stood by Meg’s side in the grey of the November afternoon for almost an hour while they waited. Meg fiddled with the edge of her sweater and Lizzie hugged her side, “Hey, they’re gonna sort this all out.”

“Why would he commit suicide? I just don’t understand.” Meg cried, looking around, “And if Marta gets everything, what happens to the rest of us?”

“You’re gonna be okay. I promise.” Lizzie said, then noticed the front doors to the house opening, “Look.”

Lieutenant Elliott lead the way out past Linda, followed by Trooper Wagner and another cop leading Ransom out of the house in handcuffs. Richard began to panic, storming toward them and waving a wad of bills in their face in an attempt to help his son. Linda leaned against the house’s pillar, detached and unsurprised at the revelation her son killed her father.

Elizabeth though, felt like her body was sinking into the ground. Meg waved over Elliott and asked him what happened, and Lizzie was vaguely listening as she watched the Thrombey family turn their faces away from Ransom. Everyone but his father had given up on him.

“He,” Elliott pointed toward Ransom, “Attempted to frame Marta for your grandfather’s death, however, what she mistook as a deadly mistake was actually the correct medications. After realizing he was going to die, Harlan took his own life to protect Marta.” Elliott explained and Meg’s breath caught in her throat as Lizzie pulled her closer.

“So why is he-”

“Fran the housekeeper was rushed to the hospital because of a morphine overdose which Mr. Drysdale confessed to. The housekeeper didn’t make it.”

Meg began sobbing into her hand, but Lizzie’s legs gave out and she collapsed onto the ground in tears.

“Lizzie!” Meg cried as she knelt beside her, but the woman was inconsolable as she sobbed into her hands, back against a car as Lieutenant Elliott called for help.

Although he heard her cries, Ransom didn’t turn to her, instead looking up and meeting Marta’s gaze. As he smiled knowingly at Marta, he was pushed into the police cruiser and taken away, leaving his family broke, and his love devastated.

#knives out #knives out fanfic #knives out fanfiction

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dunnitmoved · 4 years

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@deathtake said: ‘who even is galileo?!’

𝙲𝙰𝚂𝙴: 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙷𝙰𝙿 𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂: 𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽

it must be noted that rare are the things that throw benoit blanc. in midst of his process of speaking out his stream of consciousness –– indeed not paying much attention to his partner, performing more of a soliloquy than a monologue –– he makes a reference that he hadn’t expected to be questioned. this disrupts him. blanc stops on his tracks, the focus of his eyes returning with laser precision to his immediate surroundings, targeting her. his brow creases into a frown. judging was not in his nature, but he cannot help the utter disbelief in his expression.

❛ you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me. ❜ if her father was the one who had educated her, then the man truly deserved the death that was coming to him.

#deathtake #INBOX ) someone asked a very important question.#VERSE ) the game is afoot: main.

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rebeldaydreams · 4 years

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Case Solved (Benoit Blanc x Reader)

words: 820

pairing: Benoit Blanc x Gender Neutral Assistant!Reader

summary: You and Benoit finally crack a tough case you’ve been working on for weeks, and you’re about ready to go home and sleep for a year. Fluff, Benoit being the Nicest Man Alive.

No actual link to the Knives Out plot! I wrote this as a platonic relationship but honestly it can be whatever you want it to be, go wild. FIRST BENOIT FIC LETS GOOOOO

It had been a long, long few weeks of equally long days and sleepless nights. You were relieved that Benoit had finally solved the case he’d been slaving over – that both of you had been slaving over – so that you could finally go home and sleep.

Right now, though, you were in Benoit’s office, sorting out the last of the paperwork for the case file and making sure everything was where it should be. Just as you were slotting the file into the cabinet against the back wall, Benoit appeared in the doorway.

“I coulda’ done that tomorrow, Y/N.” He said, sliding his hands into his pockets. You turned and smiled at the detective.

“It’s no trouble. Just wanted everything to be tied up, you know.” you said, punctuating the end of your sentence with an unusually big yawn.

“Jeeze…” you sighed, rubbing your tired eyes. “How are you even functioning right now? I feel like a zombie.”

He chuckled.

“Years of practice. C’mon, I’ll give you a ride home.” He said, grabbing his coat from the nearby hook.

“You don’t have to, I can grab a taxi-“ you said, but he interrupted before you could even finish the sentence.

“Nonsense. I’m happy to. Least I can do after how hard you’ve worked the past few weeks.” He said, and before you could argue he was helping you into your coat and ushering you out the door.

Benoit had one of those nice old vintage cars, the type where the front seat was like one long bench. It was surprisingly comfortable, and with the warmth from the heaters you found your eyes were growing heavy as you watched the streetlights zoom past. Sinatra was playing quietly through the radio, and Benoit was humming lowly with the song.

He’d barely been driving for 5 minutes when he felt something bump his arm and glanced down to see you fast asleep against him. He smiled, lifting his arm to rest more comfortably around your shoulders and returned his attention to the road.

A short while later he was pulling up outside your building and even as the car gently halted to a stop, you didn’t wake up. Benoit carefully removed his arm from around you so that he could get out of the car. He looked at you, sleeping soundly in his front seat, and debated waking you up, but you looked so peaceful that he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he gently reached his hand into your coat pocket to retrieve your keys before sliding his arms beneath you, proceeding to lift you out of the car.

Still, you didn’t stir.

Benoit pushed his car door closed with his foot and began the walk upstairs to your flat. Admittedly there was some skill involved in unlocking your front door with you still in his arms, but he managed it somehow.

He carried you to your bedroom and lay you down on your still unmade bed – not that that mattered now, of course. Carefully, so as not to wake you, he untied your shoes and pulled them off, placing them neatly at the foot of the bed.

As he pulled the covers up and tucked them gently around your shoulders, you finally stirred awake.

“…Ben-?” you had intended to say his full name but instead you mumbled half of it. He smiled.

“Get some sleep. You sure as hell deserve it.” He said.

You tried to say thank you to him, for driving you home, but it came out as a sleepy mumble instead. Good enough, you thought, before sleep overtook you once more. Just before you completely passed out, you registered the feeling of warm lips against your forehead.

“G’night, Y/N.”

You woke up just before 12pm the following day, and for a moment you panicked that you’d overslept until you remembered that the case was finished, and Benoit had given you the week off to recover from the stressful past few weeks.

You sighed in relief and sunk back against your pillows. Suddenly, you realised you were still fully dressed, and didn’t actually remember going to bed the previous evening. You frowned, staring up at your ceiling. You remembered getting into Benoit’s car…and that was it. Had you really been that tired that you didn’t even remember going to bed? That was new.

You rolled over onto your side and grabbed your phone from the side table, flicking it on. You had a fair amount of messages – mostly group chats which you swiped away without reading. Then there was a buzz as a new message came through.

“Morning. Sleep well?

Lunch on me, if you fancy it 🥡

-B”

A grin encompassed your features and you quickly typed out a reply.

“Sounds good. See you in an hour?”

A reply came through mere seconds later.

“🕵️‍👍”

You really regretted teaching him how to use emojis.

#benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc x you #benoit blanc imagine #benoit blanc #knives out #knives out imagine #my fics #:)#i hope this doesn't suck LOL

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

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“Which of Your Fics . . .?” Meme

Tagged by: @locke-writes (cotdammit Noah I had to reread all my crap and be reminded of how decent I used to be at writing! Jk is cool, I needed a calm-down this weekend)

Which of your fics . . .

Did you think would get a bigger reaction/audience than it did?: Of the ones written of my own volition? I know there’s probably another one, but the most recent one is the Guilty Pleasures preference. Granted, it’s not filled with “Top-Billing Characters” like my Love Languages series is, so I guess that’s an unfortunate factor.😕 What makes it kinda sting is that I learned the hard way that I can no longer edit posts made on my laptop on my phone anymore, and it deleted all my work. So I had to sprint through chat logs with a friend to find some of the pieces and completely rewrite a few others. But I guess in due time it might gain more traction. Somehow and for some reason.

Got a bigger reaction than what you were expecting?: Of pieces I made without prompting, it’s gotta be a tie between the Doctor Strange Soulmate AU and Day Bi Day: A Documented Study of the Bisexual. And also pretty much any of my Tadashi Hamada pieces because when I first wrote his soulmate AU, it got next to no attention and I just altogether assumed the time for Tadashi had passed. Day Bi Day doesn’t exactly have a whole lot of notes, either, but I’m impressed by anyone who managed to slog through the leviathan of a oneshot. Request-wise, believe me when I say that I did not expect that Geralt Love Headcanon set to acquire half as much, let alone just as much as it did.

Is your funniest?: It straight up has to be a tie between The Hairy Situation and Dios Meme-o!. Should it be concerning that my funniest fics tended to be involving guys from Law & Order: SVU? Probably. But I have so much fun when I get to write as bizarrely as I actually talk or want to talk. Besides, Carisi is so easy-going that it’s easy to make the reader the Straight Man, whereas Barna is so rigid and proper that it’s hilarious to just keep subjecting him to all kinds of weirdness. Really, nearly every one of my Barba has some instance of him being embarrassed or perplexed or just yanked completely out of his element.

Is your darkest or angstiest?: Definitely my one about Bruce Wayne’s S/O getting kidnapped, though it doesn’t feel especially angsty to me: I could actually go potentially darker with my stories and ideas. But constantly worry about judgement or backlash. Maybe one day I’ll gain access to my Big Girl Parts and just stop caring and just do it, though.🤷🏽‍♀️

Is your absolute favorite?: I don’t quite have one . . . I kinda look back at nearly all my works to some degree of envy because I genuinely do believe my writing was much better when I first started out.

Was easiest to write?: None. Absolutely none. They all drained the life out of me. I popped Pink out in the span of a few hours as opposed to the usual months weeks days it may usually take me. Literally came to the idea in the middle of a morning lecture, went immediately back to my dorm, and wrote in a mad fury.

Was hardest to write?: Nearly every single thing made circa 2018 onward.There’s a reason I went on a year-long hiatus, after all. Though, the difficulty is mainly sourced from my fluctuating motivation and focus and ability to put my thoughts and images into words. When it comes to content, however, it’s still difficult for me to say. I had a hard time writing the soulmate AU for the Phantom of the Opera, but I mainly chalk that up to a few things: It was the first soulmate AU I had attempted writing in a long time; it’s hard to capture how Erik would speak, considering he rarely talks so much as he sings in purposefully flamboyant and prose-y fashion; I am a perfectionist.

Has your favorite lines/exchanges/paragraphs? (Share It): “In a way, it’s arguably also affirmation with hints of giving gifts, because you know that the man is going to write songs about you. You can’t help but think it’s a tad ridiculous. After all, you’re no hero, you’re not really a warrior, you’re more or less just along for the ride. But Jaskier can’t help it: You are his muse, his adoration, the goddess whose feet he kneels before as he sings golden applause to and prays before for her guidance and accompaniment. There is never a moment where you feel unloved because Jaskier is unafraid to love you loudly. And given the songs and odes and everything he’s used to honor your existence with, it appears that his love for you will echo long after you are both gone. That way, everyone else will know and love you as he feels you deserve to be.” - Jaskier, Love Languages II Really, in hindsight, I like how I did with Brocky Horror Picture Show. Not every line is gold, but there’s too many to pick from.

Have you re-read the most?: Hard to say. I reread a lot of my stuff from time to time, there’s no real one I really go back to especially. Usually, it also depends on if I’m writing for a character I’ve already written for; that way I can keep the “lore” consistent.

Would you recommend to someone reading your work for the first time?: Much like @locke-writes put it, it depends on the character/fandom the reader is looking for. I’m lazy, so the Reader I have in mind for certain characters is usually pretty the same throughout their respective fics. There’s lowkey more or less sorta mini lores going on for certain characters and their respective s/os (ex: If the fic is about Erik, they’ll probably still be working in the costume shop as stated in the Soulmate AU [the first piece I did of him]; if the fic is about Clark Kent, depending, chances are Reader was involved in the plot to kill Superman). But if we have to boil it down, here are just a few I would start with for a several characters whose S/Os tend to be consistent or for whom I intend on keeping the lore of for future projects: - Benoit Blanc x Reader Ship Meme - M’Baku x Reader Ship Meme - Jaskier x Reader Ship Meme

Are you most proud of?: If you would allow me to be so arrogant . . . - Soulmate AU: You Can See a Meter of How Dangerous Your Soulmate Is Hovering Over Their Head - Soulmate AU: You and Your Soulmate Share Sensations - Say Yes to Distress - Brocky Horror Picture Show

Tagging: Whomever wants in!

#wrote this...tired and wack...#tag meme

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