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#glass onion x reader
cissyenthusiast010155 · 2 months
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Sinking My Claws Into You ~Dark!Claire Debella xFem Younger!Wealthy!Reader
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Summary— A darker fic, set after Claire gets back from Miles’ private island, and she now has to deal with the reality of basically going bankrupt. Luckily, Claire has got her hooks in you, a young, wealthy enthusiast from New York…
Mommy… Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
Warnings: dark fic, lightly implied smut, age gap (all legal), teasing, taunting, manipulation, alcohol consumption, unrequited feelings, little bit of gold digging behavior, praise, flustering, wealth, yucky men, flirting, little bit of sugar mommy behavior, etc.
Enjoy (;
Ever since Claire had backed away from her friendship with Miles, she had hit nothing but impossible obstacles one after another. Without Miles’ endorsement and backing for her campaign for the U.S. Senate, the middle aged woman was facing a fate worse than death. She would have happily rode on the back of Miles’ wealth all the way, but she couldn’t ignore the events that had come to pass. However, her decision now left the woman desperate.
Miles was an eccentric prick whom Claire had met more than 20 years ago. Back then, he had charmed her. And being the young, naive woman that she was, Claire had fallen for his persuasive nature. Not to mention how easy it was considering he was loaded. But Miles never wanted anything more than a friendship from Claire, and Claire eventually was forced to accept this by the amount of pretty models and talented girls that he always had in rotation and the overtly harsh rejection he gave her, which the snob was always happy to remind her of. Over the years, the only reason Claire put up with Miles was for the money. Miles had endorsed her when she ran for mayor, and then now for governor as well.
Miles was always there to dole out a check for whatever the woman needed. And Claire took full advantage of that. The price she paid over the years was well worth the bank she raked in. Miles would compare her to others and batter Claire all the time, she was his favorite plaything. But she always took it with a stoic face, telling herself that it would be worth it, that the amount of money she was getting leveled out the fact that he was a knee-faced jerk.
But then she and Claire had had a falling out. Claire had gone behind her back and stabbed a mutual friend in the back. And if there was one thing that Claire could not stand, it was betrayal. In the heat of the moment, Claire let emotions get the best of her and she broke it off. God she kicked herself for being friends with Miles for as long as she had been… It had been over 2 decades of unhealthy friendship, but in her eyes, the money had made it all worth it. But now, without Miles’ money… She was through. Finished. Done.
That was until she met you.
Claire had met you at an art benefit, one of those fancy events where the rich and wealthy got together, socialized, and gave away millions of dollars like it was nothing. Claire had been there campaigning for more funding and endorsements. She had already talked with three or twelve basic, filthy rich white guys, the kind that flashed toothy smiles while heavily and shamelessly flirting with her. She would indulge these men as little as possible, before moving past them. Those guys weren’t the type she was looking for. They weren't a Miles or a Y/N Astor… Claire rolled her eyes and shrugged off her disgust at the idea of what those rich guys wanted from her.
After a particularly gagging interaction with a young bachelor (at least half her age and nonetheless just as gross as the rest of them who only wanted her body and willing to give nothing in return), Claire had looked around the room, champagne glass in hand, when her gaze had landed on you at the bar. She immediately noticed how the woman carried herself with youthful elegance, and that she was the type of lady who could make anything look good. She could also tell that the woman had money, she was not the type of lady that flattered and flirted with filthy rich men to get into their pockets. She wasn’t a part of the common folk. No, this woman was in the one percent. Her clothing and accessories were not loud, but Claire could read the nicheness of the fashion and knew that she was wearing thousands of dollars: her Manolo pumps, the Cartier watch, the small Dolce purse, etc. This was the type of girl she needed, and she knew this woman could replace Miles and his money. Claire finished her glass, gave it to a server, took a deep breath, put on a smile, and then sauntered over to the stunning lady.
“I would buy you a drink, ‘hun, but it is an open bar…” Claire hummed, glancing over to the wealthy woman with a sly smirk.
You blushed just a smidge, and Claire immediately took that as her first win of the night. This girl was young. Not young enough to not be able to handle commitment, but definitely young enough to fall for Claire’s charm and to agree to hand over her money without a second thought. Again, the perfect mark. While Claire waited for you to make your move, she ordered herself a red wine from the open bar.
“You’re too kind…” you lightly retorted, swirling the expensive amber liquid in your glass.
“And who do I have the pleasure of giving my kindness to today…?” Claire cooed widening her smirk as she now turned her body from the bar to face you.
You slowly swiveled towards the older woman. Claire allowed her eyes to wander and take in the younger woman in front of her. You took a swig of her whiskey, before humming lightly.
“I’m Y/N.”
Claire nodded in satisfaction, taking the glass of red from the bartender when it was ready for her. Her eyes shimmered with predatory intent. She could tell this woman was book smart. But she was confident that she could outplay you in this game.
“I’m Claire Debella. My colleagues call me Debella, you can call me Claire…” the older woman hummed, with a teasing tone.
You sucked in a breath, your face flushing some more, before you nodded lightly.
“Where are you from, Y/N?” Claire cooed, playing with the younger woman’s name in her mouth.
“New York. I went to Harvard, have family in Connecticut” You breathed out, lightly fidgeting with your fingers and your glass while struggling to maintain eye contact.
“Smart girl…” the older brunette cooed, sending a sly wink your way.
Another blush rippled through the wealthy woman’s face. Claire could tell this girl was shy. That was also good, it spoke to her privacy and naivety.
“What about you…?” You softly asked.
“Connecticut.” Peggy promptly responded, before taking control of the conversation once more,
“Are you here alone, Y/N?”
Claire could tell that her words were having an effect on the young, wealthy woman. You nearly choked on her drink at her last words, as well as flushed, fidgeting, struggling to hold eye contact… But not in an uncomfortable way, in a flustered way. In a way where you looked adorable while you were trying to cover her ruby red cheeks in embarrassment. And that was exactly what Claire was going for.
“I am…” you breathed out.
“Really?” Claire cooed, quirking her brow dramatically accompanied by a sip of red, “A stunning girl like you…? I’m surprised that a cute guy or girl hasn’t snatched you up yet…”
Now your face was beet red, and she was desperately trying to swallow all of her liquid courage, overwhelmed from all the praise that the older woman was showering her with. Now the your glass was empty.
“Why don’t we ditch this open bar and go somewhere that has some nice, expensive whiskey for you? Hmmmmm, ‘hun?” Claire purred, leaning in close to the woman’s personal space.
You gulped and nodded mindlessly.
“I’d like that…” you breathed out nervously.
“Good girl…” Claire hummed out in delight.
She placed her glass along with the younger woman’s on the bar, signaling to the bartender that the two of you were done. She then linked her arm with yours with ease and guided you, the clueless, naive, wealthy, young woman out of the expensive, testosterone filled event, getting in the back of your Maserati and heading into a future filled with good fortune for the one and only Claire Debella.
~~~
Claire Debella Masterlist ~Coming Soon (;
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bi-bard · 1 year
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Christmas Day - Benoit Blanc Imagine (Knives Out)
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Title: Christmas Day
Pairing: Benoit Blanc X Platonic!Reader
Word Count: 621 words
Warning(s): not having family/friends
Summary: (Y/n) had started working with Benoit Blanc more and more. When he finds out that (Y/n) doesn't have anyone to visit for the holidays, he decides to reach out and try to make their holiday season a little bit better.
Author's Note: Happy Holidays! I am not one who usually writes Christmas stories, but I thought that this would be cute.
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I was never expecting to work with Benoit Blanc.
He was one of the best detectives in the world. He always seemed like a one-man team that may have been forced to work with others in certain situations. I didn't think that he had any interest in recruiting someone to work with him.
But after working one case with him, he started reaching out more and more.
Slowly, I started to feel like an actual partner. Like we both saw each other as equals.
Which probably wasn't close to true. He was pretty much my boss.
He was a nice guy. A little excitable when there was a mystery, but otherwise nice and honest. A good person.
I don't know how Benoit found out that I didn't have anyone to spend the holidays with. I'm sure that if I asked then I would get some long-winded explanation about how some small thing that I did or said.
I only found out that he knew when he asked me to join him on Christmas.
"What?" I replied, thinking that I must've misheard him.
"I want you to join Phillip and me for Christmas," Benoit repeated.
I was silent for a few moments before I finally got myself to shake my head. "No, no. I can't do that. I don't want to intrude-"
"Nonsense," he cut me off. "Phillip and I would be happy to have you."
I took a deep breath.
"I don't want you spending Christmas alone," he continued. "Please?"
I sighed. "Fine."
"Good," he grinned.
Christmas day, I found myself walking up to Benoit's place and knocking on the door.
"There they are," Benoit cheered as he pulled the door open. I chuckled at him.
He pulled me into a hug. I barely avoided hitting him in the back with the bag that I had brought for him and Phillip.
"Merry Christmas," he stepped back. I said the phrase back to him.
Phillip stepped around him and gave me a softer hug. "It's nice to see you, (Y/n)."
"Thank you for inviting me," I said. I held the bag out to him. "I brought a gift."
"Oh, you didn't need to do this."
"It's the least I could do," I waved him off.
"Well, it's good that you mentioned gifts," Benoit walked over to another part of the room, coming back with a wrapped gift. "Open it."
I chuckled before pulling the wrapping paper off.
It was a collection of pens. Nice pens. I traced my thumb over the case.
"You mentioned enjoying having good pens to take notes with," he explained. "There are the best that money can buy."
"You... You didn't have to-"
"Yes, I did."
"I can't accept-"
"You can and you will."
I stammered for a moment before looking down at them again.
After a few moments, I moved to hug Benoit again. He chuckled before hugging me back.
"Thank you," I muttered. "For everything. It's more than I deserve."
"That's not true," he mumbled back to me before stepping out of the hug. "Now, come on, Phillip is quite the entertaining cook."
"Only because Benoit burns everything that he touches," Phillip added.
I laughed before hopping onto the barstool next to the kitchen island.
The night was spent chatting, watching Phillip do most of the cooking, and eating.
They were both so kind to me. It didn't feel like I was a burden or that I was in the way. I felt like a part of the family. It was a new feeling for me, but I really enjoyed it. I could get used to feeling like that.
All I could hope was that I could somehow show them how much that meant to me.
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bonkwosher · 1 year
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Drunk Benoit Blanc Headcanons
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GIF By: my-sleepy-mind-in-the-stars
Warnings: Characters being drunk, very little suggestive content
Inspired By: @jasminesfury "Drunk Prompts"
Drunk Benoit Blanc Headcanons
Warnings: Characters being drunk, very little suggestive content
Heavily Drunk Benoit (Once in a blue moon)
Benoit Blanc is totally a loud & proud affectionate drunk. On the rare occasion, he gets really drunk at a get-together you have to stop him from sharing classified case information.
"Now the police think that it's Madelyn, but I KNOW-" "Benoit!" you shout, standing right next to him with his arm wrapped around your waist. "Did someone call my name?"
When he's not rambling to his close friends about his career he is holding you tight & letting you & everyone in the city know how great of a partner you are.
"Marta! Marta, did you meet my boyfriendddddd?" Benoit drags his words & pulls your back to his chest & chuckles. "Benoit you sound like a schoolgirl." "I have met Y/N, you introduced me to them earlier."
When you sit at the dinner table (Benoit would never allow himself to get this drunk in public, gotta protect his image) among all your friends, Benoit keeps a hand rested on your thigh. Occasionally he'll give you a big squeeze & quickly turn his head to you, wearing the most childish, smug grin.
Within twenty seconds of being left by himself he'll have a group of people surrounding him, listening to him ramble like toddlers at story time. It's not the most coherent thing but you can't say it isn't adorable.
When he notices you're watching he points at you & yells "There he is! Y/N helped me solve this case actually, come here, come tell them how amazing you are!"
Benoit returns his arm to its place around your hips & pulls you close, you quickly take whatever alcohol he got into while you were away. Humoring him, you continue his story where you were a fresh pair of eyes on his case.
As soon as you leave the party Benoit crashes & becomes super cuddly. You have to practically drag him to the bedroom & throw him on the bed. You climb in next to him & he spoons you, murmuring random praises.
Buzzed Benoit
That being the extreme, the usual is the two of you sharing a glass of wine after he successfully solves a case. Sometimes he'll be so caught up in the idea of celebrating with you that he forgets to tell you he's coming home.
Benoit knocks on your shared home's front door, managing to surprise you every time with a glass of wine from wherever his case was & a travel bag in hand. After sharing loving embraces Benoit turns on some classical music & pops open the bottle of wine, pouring you each a glass.
"Tell me everything!" makes his lips curl into a huge smile.
A couple glasses in & deep down the rabbit hole that was his case, the feeling of finally being home again sets in. His smile softens & he looks down to your hands, that rest on the table as you lean in to listen to his wonderful rambling.
"Benoit, are you okay?"
He doesn't respond, simply getting up & offering you his hand. You take it & he pulls you into a wordless waltz, the both of you just enjoying each other's presence.
As you pull away from each other, much to both of your chagrin, Benoit peacefully states, "I'm absolutely wonderful, Y/N."
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jjsmaybank20 · 1 year
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Hi!!!! It's me again,🦁 Anon. I just looked at Glass onion and can I ask for a request for whiskey x reader. The reader was relaxing in the pool with others, and the moment whiskey comes out of the pool, the Reader literally froze and stared at her. The others started joking or making a remark about it until the Reader took Whiskey's hand and dragged her to her room because the Reader got excited.
Can the end be cute and fluffy?
Thank you very much!!!🥺
Speechless
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Whiskey x Fem!Cody!Reader
Summary: Your girlfriend is gorgeous, and never fails to make you speechless.
Warnings: Nothing really, just fluff
Word Count: 759
navigation misc. masterlist
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When you, your brother, and your girlfriend were invited to Miles Bron’s weekend getaway/murder mystery party, you knew you were in for a treat. Miles never failed to astonish, so arriving at his private island housing his massive complex, you couldn’t say you were surprised.
Miles was an eccentric person, so of course the rooms were assigned based off of chakra. You bid your brother and your girlfriend goodbye, and headed towards your room to get ready for the pool.
You throw on some swim trunks, a bikini top, and a hawaiian shirt to wear over it. You check yourself over, seeing that you look good, and head down to the pool to meet up with your friends. 
Making your way down, you see Lionel and Claire already on the side having a conversation. You approach them, and they greet you warmly. 
“Y/N Cody, as I live and breathe! We didn’t have much time to catch up. How is everything? How’re you and Whiskey?” Claire inquires. You go to answer, but are interrupted by Birdie making her grand entrance. 
“Guys. Lionel and Y/N, you guys are too hot to be scientists. And Claire, you look so cute.” You glance over at Lionel, and then you see Claire flipping Birdie off, making you laugh.
“You just gave Bird the bird, Claire-bear.” You exclaim, making Lionel laugh along with you. Claire then glares at you, hating the nickname you had assigned to her. Everyone in your group had a nickname that you had given them, which you always called them.
Claire is Claire-bear, Birdie is Bird, Lionel is Lion, Duke is Dick, Miles is My-My, Peg is Peggy, and Andi is… well, was Cassie. 
While in your own head about Andi, you tune out Birdie and Claire bickering. You finally tune back in when Claire re-asks you the questions from before. “Oh! Y/N, answer the questions from before Birdie interrupted. How is everything? How’re you and Whiskey?”
You smile at the woman, and respond, “Things are good! Lion and I have been absolutely stacked at work, but you know how Miles is. Me and Whiskey are doing amazing.”
Lionel then looks around for your girlfriend. When he doesn’t spot her, he inquires, “Where is your girl, anyway?” You then look around, also not spotting her. You open your mouth to say something, but a clearly not listening Birdie interrupts again.
“God and no masks I can breathe again. Look at this pool, maybe I'll go for a swim.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, your gorgeous girlfriend breaks through the surface of the water gracefully. Your jaw drops, your eyes widen, and you turn bright red.
Lionel and Claire quickly take note of this, and immediately begin teasing you. “Hey, Y/N. You’ve got some drool right there.” Lionel puts his finger on your chin. You immediately slap his hand away, not taking your eyes off of your girlfriend.
Claire calls out to Whiskey, shouting, “Hey Whiskey! I think you broke your girlfriend!” Whiskey glances over at you, smirking at the expression on your face.
“Baby, you okay?” She asks. You say something intelligent like ‘Uh- mhm- yep- so good.’ She laughs and swims towards the stairs leading out of the pool. You quickly get up, not bothering to bid your friends goodbye. You know they won’t mind.
As soon as you make it to where your girlfriend is standing, you grab her hand, yank her out of the pool, and pick her up bridal style before running to your room. She laughs joyfully, and wraps her arms around your neck.
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Once you reach your shared suite, you shift her so that she is pressed between you and the door. You kissed her intensely, and quickly started to trail them down her neck. You heard her let out a breathy laugh and felt the vibrations in her throat when she asked, “What’s gotten into you, babe?”
You pull back and put your foreheads together, smiling at the woman you loved. “It just always amazes me how you seem to get prettier and prettier every time I look at you.”
Whiskey blushes at that, and pecks your lips again before hopping down from your arms. She grabs your hand and pulls you down onto the bed, making you let out a yelp of surprise. She quickly climbs on top of you. Cuddling into your chest.
You couldn’t be happier than in this moment, on this island, with the people you love. If only you knew how fast it would go to shit.
---
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Could someone write Duke Cody x reader?😍😍
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work-themselves-few · 10 days
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https://shannon-085.mxtkh.fun/ih/9LWXoNa
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yourmomxx · 6 months
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➵ pogue on pogue macking - madelyn cline x fem!singer!reader | social media au (1)
a/n: I’ve always wanted to do a social media au and honestly this was so fun to make! also, please know that all those pictures are from pinterest and because of that, in no way a measure on the reader’s looks!! I always try to make my works as inclusive as possible for everyone so even more people can enjoy them <3
yourinstagram
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liked by sabrinacarpenter, luizakns and 1.998.037 others
yourinstagram thank you so much charleston, for being an amazing crowd and providing me with one of the most fun nights on this tour! love you all so much, hope to see you again soon🧡
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emilyshortcake no because you don’t understand, I wanted to go there so badly but I found out too late and all tickets were already sold😭please be back
↳ reidsgirlfriend @/emilyshortcake I literally sat outside the stadium the entire night because you could hear the concert all the way out there💀
itsbrutalouthere mother mothering
oliviarodrigo 🔥🔥
ynnn please come to italy!!
tunafish got the opportunity to see this live and I will never be the same person again
madelyncline
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liked by chasestokes, drewstarkey and 1.284.573 others
madelyncline did a bit of a photodump there🤭
view all 1.472.075 comments
jessiejay how can someone look so good in a casual photo dump?
ynisbabe excuse me?? is that @/yourinstagram that I see?
↳ emilyshortcake no because I thought that too omg
lisawithz them cheekbones DAMN girl
dreamworksworkofdreams A Y/N CONCERT IS THIS REAL I AM FREAKING OUT
madisonbaileybabe 😍❤️
lechair mads is a fellow yn-fan oh my god😍😍
urfellowsapphic slide 3 is literally only another reason to love her
yourinstagram
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liked by madelyncline, jackchampion and 1.968.428 others
yourinstagram I am sooo proud to announce that my second album, “daughter of revenge” is now out on all music streaming platforms! As some of you might know, I went through some rough patches in my childhood and adolescence, but I managed to overcome them all and now I am standing here, and I made it, and this is exactly what this album is all about! thank you so much for all your support, because without you, none of this would have ever been possible!
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therealobama I JUST LISTENED TO IT AND I AM ASCENDING OH MY GOD
ynisbabe the declaration of independence < this
emilyshortcake ihumuyd chain⤵️
↳ hannahliv I HOPE YOU NEVER FALL IN LOVE AGAIN
↳ janagp I HOPE YOU’LL BE YOURSELF AND LOSE YOUR FRIENDS
↳ bella_ltn I HOPE THEY CALL YOU OUT FOR SHIT YOU SAID
↳ jjmay I HOPE YOU’RE MISERABLE UNTIL YOU’RE DEAD
suesilvesterforpresident BABE WAKE UP NEW Y/N Y/L/N ALBUM JUST DROPPED
sabrinacarpenter so proud of you hon, keep up the good work!
↳ yourusername @/sabrinacarpenter my twin😩🙏
pussinboots no because the chorus of dying on the inside literally had me dying on the inside
↳ suesilvesterforpresident “Beauty is a knife I’ve been holding by the blade, swallowing my pride so i won’t eat anything” - like no, I don’t need my heart anyway, thanks for asking❤️‍🩹
↳ dwbabe FR
♔꙳⋆ twitter ꙳⋆
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♔꙳⋆ instagram ꙳⋆
celebritynews
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liked by ynnn, leah_with_an_h and 87.632 others
celebritynews singer-songwriter y/n y/l/n and actress Madelyn Cline spotted hanging out together, as they leave a coffee shop in our favorite city, new orleans
Follow for more updates❤️
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emiliakm any originals fans here?
↳ lassyinatessi @/emiliakn always🙋‍♀️
howdoyouspellpink y/n and mads? literally my two worlds colliding omg
turtleneck they look like gossip besties I love it
toadondaroad they’re honestly both so hot of course they’re hanging out
melani.31 oh to get coffee with them😩🙏
ikissedagirl no because that’s literally right around the corner from my apartment?
↳ andilikedit @/ikissedagirl please tell me if you see them, I will cry
madelyncline
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liked by madisonbaileybabe, yourusername and 1.738.959 others
madelyncline my two moods when with whiskey
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hannah._. omg mads😭
madisonbaileybabe so proud of you babe!!
yourusername I just watched glass onion and i cannot stop thinking about it, @/madelyncline any idea why that is?
↳ madelyncline @/yourusername wouldn’t have anything to do with a girl named after a delicious alcohol now, would it?
↳ addyourusername excuse me???
↳ leafme what. is. going. on??
↳ yourusername @/madelyncline can argue about calling whiskey delicious - the alcohol, that is😉
↳ carolinacreek MA’AM
semmily ARIANA (y/n) WHAT ARE U DOING HERE
madelynclinebabe literally the prettiest girl
♔꙳⋆ twitter ꙳⋆
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pt2.
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winterrrnight · 10 months
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could i request something with a fem reader that’s of another cast from a different show of your choice, & she meets drew through madelyn. maybe they hit it off on their first meet and start texting one another almost every night. basically a mutual pine and by the end they admit their feelings. make it real fluffy!!
love your writing btw 🖤
thank you for the request anon!! The idea sparked a huge inspiration in me and I loved writing this! I definitely got carried away while writing so this is longer than most of my stuff. I added a small twist of my own and made the reader gender neutral :)
love affair
PAIRING: drew starkey x actor!gn!reader
SUMMARY: the reader and madelyn cline are co stars on glass onion. on being invited to madelyn's birthday party, the reader meets a certain someone.
WARNINGS: small mentions of anxiety, alcohol consumption, getting sick
EDITH SPEAKS: my first request! this is LONG, and this is GOOD and I LOVE how it came out!! I hope you like it too! I wasn't able to come up with a title so I decided to go with a song based title, love affair is such a good song i definitely recommend listening to it :)
Please like and/or reblog if you enjoy it 💌 feedback is always appreciated!
navigation || join my taglist || requests
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It's your co star Madelyn's birthday today, and she is throwing a massive party. She's invited her friends from all the shows or movies she's been casted in before, and it's safe to say you're excited yet nervous at the same time.
You haven't been in the film industry for as long as Madelyn, you did a few minor roles here and there before you landed your major role in Glass Onion alongside Madelyn. That's where you met her for the first time, and you both hit it off really well. Glass Onion is your first project which got you a lot of exposure, so before Glass Onion you hadn't been to many parties thrown by big celebrities. This is the first one you're going to, and you're determined to make it one of the best nights of your life.
You quickly get ready, wearing an outfit which looks absolutely gorgeous on you and gives you loads of self confidence. You prepare yourself to socialise with many new people and to try to make new friends. There are going to be so many other people in the film industry; who knows, you may land a deal in another blockbuster project.
Your cab pulls outside of your house and you get inside it. You direct the driver to Madelyn's house and he takes you there in under 20 minutes. Before you can even reach the party, you can hear the music a distance away from her house, which tends to overpower your nervousness over your excitement.
The cab driver drops you outside her house. You walk up to the closed door and take in a deep breathe before ringing the bell. You can hear the chattering of the people inside. The door opens and you see Madelyn on the other side. You grin widely upon her presence.
"Happy birthday beautiful!" You say ecstatically, hugging her and kissing both her cheeks.
"Thank you darling!" She says laughing. She beckons you to come inside. You walk in to see the biggest crowd of people you've seen together in a house.
You turn to Madelyn and hand her her gift. "Oh my god you didn't have to bring me one!" She says, taking it from you and hugging you again.
"Nonsense! It's your birthday, you definitely deserve to get one."
"Thank you so much. Come on, let's get you some drinks and I'll introduce you to some people." You follow her lead to the kitchen, where she gives you a drink. You thank her and take the cup from her.
"Hey Madison!" She yells out. Madison turns around and sees the both of you. She comes up to you rushing.
"Oh my god hi!" She says, smiling widely as you hug her. "It's so nice to finally meet you!"
"You too!" You say, smiling just as widely as her.
"You were so good in Glass Onion, like, come on. That's some Emmy level acting right there." You feel your cheeks slightly warm up at her compliments.
"Thank you girl, but let's talk about Kiara! She's amazing and you're so talented!"
"Oh stop it," Madison says, laughing. You take a sip of your drink as you make some more small talk with her.
"Look there's everyone else," Madelyn says suddenly, looking across the room. You see she's looking at the group of the cast of Outer Banks. You recognise all of them. Madelyn takes you by your hand and you three make your way to the bigger group.
"Hey guys!" says Madelyn, and everyone replies with a varied version of 'hello'. Madelyn introduces you to everyone, and you hug all of them one by one and make small talk with them.
You and Madelyn now walk to the only person in the group who you haven't met yet: Drew Starkey. You may or may not have found him attractive in the show.
"Hi Drew, it's so nice to meet you!" You smile, and give him a hug.
"You too! I finally got around watching Glass Onion some time ago and you were out of this world," Drew compliments. You feel flattered from all the compliments you've been receiving today.
"Oh my god, thank you! But you as Rafe is just something else. I really cannot imagine anyone else playing him. You embodied his character so well."
"Thank you so much," he smiles. You feel your heart flutter at the small motion. You both join the group, and watch everyone talk and laugh among themselves. You look on your side at Drew, and take in how pretty he looks in the suit he's wearing. You notice the earring dangling from his ear and the rings he's wearing. You feel yourself almost swooning.
Drew whips his head in your direction but before you both can make an eye contact you turn your head away. You feel your cheeks heat up when you hear him chuckle. He totally caught you staring. You down the entire drink in your cup.
"Do you need some more?" Drew asks you. "I've run out of mine too."
"Oh... yeah sure." You both excuse yourself from the group and walk to the kitchen. Drew fills both your cups and you thank him for it. You start to feel your head slightly throbbing from the loud music playing from the speakers which are right next to you and Drew.
"Hey uh Drew?" You call him out. He hums in response. "Would you like to go out in the garden?"
"Are you okay?" He asks, slightly worried.
"Yes, yes I'm fine, it's just, the music is too loud and I'm starting to get a little overwhelmed by the number of people here," you say honestly.
"Yes of course," he says. "You'll feel better if you get some fresh air." You both leave the house and go to the garden. There is a small fountain set up in the centre of the massive garden, so you and Drew sit next to each other on the edge of the fountain.
"Thank you for coming out with me," You say, feeling grateful there's someone with you to help you feel more relaxed.
"You don't have to thank me sweets, it's all fine. I'm guessing big crowds aren't your thing?"
"No, they really aren't. I haven't been around in the industry to be used to such a huge amount of people in one room. It does make me anxious."
"Don't worry about it," Drew says softly. "It takes time to get used to it all, the big crowds of people, the paparazzi on the streets, the overwhelming number of events to attend. Your mind will slowly start to feel relaxed as you spend more time in this industry. Becoming famous comes at a price." He laughs.
"Oh it definitely does," you giggle with him. You both sit in silence, the sound of the music muffled. You have already starting to feel more relaxed, and you think it's because of Drew's presence next to you.
You like this feeling.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
"Okay now I have to try this casserole, you've mentioned it atleast five times already." You laugh. Your and Drew's position has changed from the edge of the fountain to the grass on the ground. You both sit in the grass, your legs crossed as you play 20 questions.
"What can I do, it's just that good," He says proudly. To every food related question you asked him, Drew managed to give "my famous chicken casserole" as the answer.
What you both have not realised is that it's been over two hours since you both have been sitting out here and chatting. The party had started to die down in the last half hour. So many people had left, and the music was now playing at a low volume. You feel your phone vibrate, so you pull it out to see Madelyn calling you.
"Hello?" You say.
"Where are you? Did you leave?" You hear Madelyn on the other end. She sounds frantic.
"Oh no I'm outside with Drew, we're in the garden," You reply. There is a silence on the other end of the phone. In a few seconds you are met with the constant beeping, signalling Madelyn ended the call.
You hear the door open and watch Madelyn walk out to you both. "Way to go guys, you could've atleast told me you're here! I was worried when I couldn't find you inside. You aren't the kind of people who leave without saying goodbye so I knew you hadn't left for your homes, which made me a lot more nervous when I couldn't find you inside." She rambles, and then starts to breathe heavily after she finishes.
"We're so sorry Madelyn," you say, getting up from the ground. "Me and Drew got so lost in conversation that we didn't even realise where the time passed."
"Yeah, it's also getting late now, so I think we both will just leave now," adds Drew, as he stands from the ground too. You nod along his words.
"Unless you need any help inside?" You ask.
"Oh no, don't worry about that." Madelyn is quick to connect two and two together. She sees the spark between you two, and starts to feel all giddy upon the possibility of you both getting closer. "I hope you had a fun time." She smiles at you both.
You turn to look at Drew who looks at you back, both of you just softly staring into each other's eyes.
Oh you definitely had fun.
And so did he.
"We did," you say, turning back to look at Madelyn. "We'll just leave now. I'll book a cab."
"Oh no, I'll drop you," Drew pipes in.
"No it's okay, it'll be such a hassle for you. It'll only take me a few seconds to book one."
"No no, I insist. It can be unsafe to be alone with an unknown cab driver this late at night."
"He's right, he can drop you. It's best you don't go home alone." Madelyn adds.
You look at the both of them, and give in. "Okay, thank you Drew."
You both exchange your last goodbyes with Madelyn and wish her a happy birthday again before you leave her house together. Drew's car isn't parked that far from her house. You reach the passenger door but before you can open it for yourself, Drew opens it for you.
"Oh, why thank you kind sir," you say in a posh accent as you sit down. He just giggles at your reply and walks around the car to sit in the driver's seat. He starts the car and begins to drive.
You connect your phone to his Bluetooth speakers to put on some music. After searching around your playlist for a few seconds, you find your favorite song.
"Oh my god I love this one!" Drew says, bobbing his head to the beat.
"You do?" You say happily.
"Yes! Their recent album is just simply a work of art."
"Right! It's my all time favorite album! It's everything." On the drive to your house, you and Drew vibe to music and surprisingly, you both have a lot of common music taste.
Drew drives up to your house, but he just doesn't want you to leave. Not yet. This is too soon. He wants to spend more time with you, get to know you better.
But it's getting late at night. And as much as you don't want to leave either, you know you have to go.
"Drew, could we exchange numbers?" You ask, shyly. He just nods his head with a smile and gives you his phone. You put in your number and ask him to text you so you can get his.
"Thank you for the drive Drew," you say softly. You stare into his eyes yet again. There is so much you have to explore, so much more you need to know about him. He's lived a different life before you came in it, and you want to know about it all. You want to know every single thread that's been woven together to create this beautiful man in front of you.
"You're welcome," his voice just as soft as yours. You want him to stop you. You want him to tell you that he doesn't want you to leave. You want to stay with him and talk some more.
But he doesn't say anything.
You give him another smile and step out of the car and walk to your house.
Drew is controlling himself from calling your name out. Why are you getting distant from him by each passing second? Why aren't you staying? He doesn't want you to leave.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
You freshen up in your washroom and change in some comfortable clothes before lying in your bed. You hear your phone vibrate so you pick it up to see it's a text from an unknown number.
unknown number: hey it's Drew :)
You smile at the text. You quickly save his number and shoot him a text back.
you: hey :)
drew: oh you haven't slept yet?
you: nope, not sure if I'll be able to fall asleep tho, my insomnia keeps on kicking in
drew: ugh same, insomnia gets the best of me
And you both kick it off again. It's almost 3 am at night, but you're up texting Drew. You feel like you are 13 years old, and you are getting to text your first ever crush. The nerves, the skipping of your heartbeat each time Drew uses a heart in his texts all make you feel like a little teenager again.
And you love it.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
It's been almost three weeks since you met Drew, and all you have to say about this is that your life has changed for the better. He's there for you every single moment you need him; when you need someone to celebrate your small successes with, when you need a shoulder to rest your head on when you're sad, when you need someone to just listen about what's been bothering you.
In return, you love to be by Drew's side as much as you can. You try your best to reciprocate every little thing he does for you.
But one of the biggest things Drew has done for you is get in contact with one of the directors he has worked in the past, who now has casted you in his upcoming movie. The script impressed you a lot, and you're super excited to start working on it. And you just don't know how you can thank Drew for it.
"Sweets it's the fifth time today you've thanked me for it and it's only 9 am! I swear, I've done nothing, all I did was just call him up." He smiles at you, as he hands you a plate of the pancakes he made.
"But now I'm getting to act in this big movie Drew! You really don't know how grateful I am for that," you say, digging into the pancakes.
You were over at Drew's home last night to watch some Netflix together. You ended up falling asleep in between the show, so Drew carried you to his room carefully. When you woke up this morning, it took you a few seconds to realise where you are.
"I have to do something for you in return, otherwise I'll just feel guilty." You tell him.
"What? There is nothing to feel guilty about. No more talks about this okay? You and me, we're close friends, we do things for each other without expecting a thank you in return."
Friends. He didn't intend to say that, but what else can he do? He doesn't want to risk what you both have created so lovingly by admitting his feelings for you. What if you don't like him back?
Friends. Why do you feel a pang in your chest upon hearing this word? But, that's what you are right? You haven't told him how you feel about him, so that makes you friends, right?
An awkward silence falls over you two which only involves the sound of the forks and knives scratching against the plate and of you both chewing. Once you're done eating, Drew takes your plates and puts them in the dishwasher. Meanwhile you gather all your stuff and get ready to leave. You say nothing except a simple goodbye and leave his home.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
You're sitting in your room with your script in your hand as you read it and try to memorise your lines along with it. The sound of your phone ringing makes you lift your head up from your script. You see it's Drew calling you. You get slightly worried because he doesn't call you very often, you both usually prefer texting but when he does call you, it's something urgent.
"Hello?" You say after accepting the call.
"Uh... are you free?" You hear Drew's voice on the other end. Except, he doesn't sound the same. He sounds sick.
"Oh my god Drew are you okay?" You ask worriedly, getting up from your bed and finding your shoes and other things you'll need if you have to leave the house.
"Just a little sick," he then coughs, which definitely doesn't indicate to a 'little sickness'.
"I'm coming okay? Just give me a few minutes." You cut the call and quickly pop on your shoes, pick up all your stuff and leave your house.
You reach his place really quickly and rush inside. You realise you didn't ring the bell but then you remembered he's alone and sick so it's best to not disturb him from his bed.
You enter his room to see the lights switched off, the curtains drawn, and Drew's body lying under the covers. You walk up to him and carefully lift the duvet from his head. You softly gasp at how pale he looks. There are loads of scrunched up tissues lying around on his bed.
"Hey," he says, his voice hoarse as he tries to smile at you.
"Drew, bub," you say nothing else. You feel so bad for him, he must be feeling so sick. He notices your frown and lifts one of his hands up to your hand.
"Hey I'll be fine, now that you're here to take care of me," you softly chuckle at his words, as you caress the back of his palm. You lean in to press your forehead against his to see if he has a temperature. At that moment, Drew feels his cheeks heat up, and not only because of the high temperature he has.
When you feel his forehead scorching hot against yours, you quickly rush to his medicine cabinet and find the pills you need. You then get a glass of water for him. You carefully wrap your arms around his body and help him sit up in his bed. You hand him the water and a pill.
He takes the pill and you tell him you're going to make some vegetable soup for him. You go to his kitchen, find all the ingredients you need in his fridge and start to whip up the soup. You work quicker than usual, because you know you need to get this to him as quick as you can. When the soup is simmering away on the stove, you go back to his room. He's still sitting in the same position, his head leaned back against the headboard and his eyes closed.
You drag one of the chairs in Drew's room closer to him and sit down. He opens his eyes and looks at you.
"I'm so sorry for bothering you, I really didn't know who to call." He says.
"You don't have to apologise, I'm here for you always," you say softly, taking his hand in yours again and rubbing his skin just as you did before. He seems a lot more relaxed upon this gesture from you.
"You are sweets, you are always there for me. You're there for me when I need someone to talk to, you're there for me when I need someone to tell my dad jokes to."
"And you are always there for me Drew," you add. "You're there for me when I need someone to listen to my crazy theories about the movies I watch."
Drew gives you a soft smile, and you both look into each other's eyes just the way you always do, and you find yourself getting lost in them again. It's like you've found a home in those striking blue eyes.
"Sweets?" He calls you out. Your heart flutters each time he calls you that. "Can I tell you something?" Maybe it's the high temperature that he has that's making him do this, or maybe he's just tired of being just friends with you. Whatever it is, he is ready to tell it to you.
"Yes?" Your heart starting to beat faster. You have a small hunch of what he might say, but you don't want to get your hopes up just to get hurt.
"I think... I think I've fallen for you." He whispers. You look at him with your eyes wide, his hand still in yours.
You can't believe your ears. He said what you had the slightest hunch he'd say. But you didn't think you would have guessed right.
The person you fell for because he told you he will always be there for you no matter what has also fallen for you.
On the other end, Drew looks at you and tries his best to read your expression. Are you going to tell him the same, or are you about to reject him? He can't tell what's going on in your mind. He breathes deeply as he watches you look at him with wide eyes.
"I'd never thought I'd hear this but Drew, I fell for you too, so fast, so hard." You whisper back. He lets out a sigh of relief.
The person he fell for because they told him taking care of him is one of their topmost priorities has fallen for him.
You lean in and press a soft kiss on his forehead and another one on his cheek. "I'll give you a real one when you get well." You say, smiling so widely.
That night, you stay over at his place. You sleep next to Drew, his head resting on your chest as you rake your fingers softly through his hair and occasionally press a kiss to his forehead, his cheek, his temple, his chin, his nose.
He's yours, and you're his.
The world has finally fallen in place.
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @ragingsammie
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bi-bard · 1 year
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Oh, by the way, Knives Out fanfiction is going to be written
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garfldcline · 1 year
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madelyn cline is just so perfect… like look at her
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bits-and-babs · 1 year
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𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭 || 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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IMPORTANT! This fic was written with ONLY Knives Out as it’s source material, I haven’t yet seen Glass Onion. I have since been made aware 1000+ words into this fic that Benoit is gay as of the second film. I didn’t want what I had to go to waste. This is the only time I will write for him in a m x f relationship.
Summary: You introduce Private Investigator Benoit to Cluedo
Word Count: 3.1K
CW: FEMALE READER. Please see explanation above. sassy Benoit. Vague references to a mild age gap relationship, easter egg references to Knives Out film 🤭 Nylon Kink. A bit of knife play. Oral, f receiving.
Tease: “On the contrary,” he answers you with a playful lilt to his drawl, slowly sinking to his knees before you, “I intend to stay right here.”
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“You’ve never played Cluedo?!”
Shock permeates each syllable of your parroted sentence, your jaw slack as you stare at your partner with complete incredulity. Benoit, in turn, peers vacantly at you like you’ve said something ridiculously dense.
“Ain’t that what I just said?” He asks you, his monotonous voice lacking any true irritation as he taps the ashes of his cigar into the ashtray on the coffee table between you.
“Nah, we’ve gotta fix that,” you insist, slapping your palms on your knees before raising from your armchair. Benoit peers over the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses, and his icy-blue eyes follow your body across the room.
“Now— Dear, you’ve worked a long shift; you can’t be runnin’ around playin’ detective with me,” he tries to reason with you, attempts to talk you down from the inevitable shitshow that was no doubt about to unfold in the shape of solution cards and miniature murder weapon props. It’s all fruitless, though, because you’re sweeping aside Benoit’s beloved ashtray and ignoring his protestations as you drop the board game’s box onto the coffee table.
Yes, you’d slogged a nine-hour shift and hadn’t had time to change into less formal attire. Your pencil skirt bunches up your thighs, and the button-down blouse collar lies taut against your throat. Hell, your nude tights are beginning to itch too, but you’re far too invested in this ridiculous adventure and refuse to turn back at the sound of Benoit’s listless objections.
“Here we go,” you mumble to yourself, sliding the lid off the cardboard box and electing to ignore the heavy sigh that Benoit hopelessly attempts to conceal. He leans forward to put out his cigar in the ashtray you had unceremoniously discarded on the wooden floor, eyeing you as you set out the board game items and distribute each piece evenly.
“Who would you like to play as?” You ask, offering out the coloured tokens in your outstretched palm.
Benoit peers at each of the six shades of plastic pawn figurines, his expression betraying his evident discontent. “You know I do this for a livin’, don’t you, Dear?”
Your scowl in retaliation to his query has Benoit snatching up the green token from your hand and setting it on his end of the table. Again you smile as though he’d never spoken and choose red for yourself. Reverend Green and Miss Scarlett.
Carefully, you shuffle the weapon, suspect, and room card decks. Then, as discreetly as possible, take the top card from each pile and put them into the murder envelope without peeking at the details on the other side.
Finally, ignoring the obnoxious sighs rattling in Benoit’s chest, you hand out the Clue cards. Five cards each for you and Benoit, four apiece for the pair of ghost hands; purple and blue. You pinch the dice between your forefinger and thumb, holding it in front of your lover's face. “Odd for purple, even for blue. Got it?”
“Got it,” he responds, clearly finding the process tedious already but suffering through for you. Your eyes are alight with excitement, a grin permanently fixed on your lips. How was he to say no? In fact, he found himself amused by your enthusiasm to understand his line of work— even if it was through juvenile means.
“Alright!” You giggle, rolling the dice to move your scarlet pawn token forward. “Let’s begin!”
-✩-
Chimes sound from the mahogany grandfather clock situated in the corner of Benoit’s living room. They’re almost deafening in the silence that has befallen the coffee table. Although it feels like moments, you realise the minute hand has completed a revolution of the face of the timepiece — You’ve been playing for an hour. You’re no closer to identifying the killer than you were sixty minutes ago.
Benoit appears bored to tears, chain-smoking cigars and even leaves his seat at one point to obtain a glass of whiskey. To the amusement of both of you, you hadn’t noticed his absence, too wrapped up in the game to realise he’d gone AWOL.
“Now, Darlin’,” he begins, cutting both the stillness of the room and your acute concentration with his southern drawl. “Don’t you think it’s time we called it a night? It’s gettin’ awfully late—“
“Benoit,” you whine petulantly, noting the wince it earns you from the older man. He certainly looks like he’d acquired a few more silver hairs since you began this wretched game. “I want to finish it.”
“Mhmm…” Benoit pushes his spectacles up his nose, glancing over the board with mirth, “I knew a man who wouldn’t admit defeat in a board game. Know what happened?”
You glance up at him, eyebrow raised in question.
“He died.”
“Benoit!”
Exasperated, Benoit turns his black cards over, revealing his weapon, room and character. He raises his hands in defeat, settling back in his seat and officially ruling himself out of the game. “There, you only gotta look at two suspects… You're not much of a detective, are you?”
“You‘ve solved it already, haven’t you?!” You gasp, looking up at him with wide doe-eyes and dismay. He answers with a firm nod of his head. Perhaps it was foolish of you, but you really thought you’d established egalitarianism with a board game. “Well, go on, how did you know?”
Benoit inhales, opening his mouth to speak and finally put an end to this ridiculousness. “Well, now, I—“
“Wait!” you shout out, holding a hand up as though it would physically restrain the syllables of his deduction from leaving his lips. “I’ll figure it out myself!”
Sullenly, Benoit sinks back into his armchair, admitting defeat and allowing you to play out your inspector fantasy. He pouts for a few moments, watching you furiously exert your mind with the evidence before dragging his gaze over your uniform.
A quiet man, reticent in nature, Benoit rarely discussed his appreciation for your work apparel. Yes, the pencil skirt was lovely and hugged your body well, and the blouse accentuated your bodily aesthetics, but it was the tights that really captured his imagination.
In truth, Benoit was fascinated with your nylon wardrobe and could go so far as to say it was somewhat of a sexual preference. A kink. He enjoyed the sleek look they gave your legs, their shine underneath lights. Once, the feel of your stockings in his hand as he held your foot up to aid in fastening one of your heels had set him alight.
Gazing at your legs, folded over one another as you attempted to piece each clue together resentfully, Benoit felt heat rise under his collar. The nude tights you were wearing are perfect, sheen delicate beneath the faux-candelabra light fixtures. There’s not a tear, ladder or hole in sight.
He planned to amend that.
Benoit lifts himself from his seat, skirting the coffee table easily and approaching you with long strides. You momentarily glance up from the clue card in your hand, scowling to yourself as he advances. “So embarrassed with my detective work that you’re retreating to bed, Mr Blanc?”
“On the contrary,” he answers you with a playful lilt to his drawl, slowly sinking to his knees before you, “I intend to stay right here.”
Momentarily, your mind works like an old television with a crooked aerial antenna. Static fizzles between your synapses, and you cannot come up with a retort to Benoit’s cheeky inference.
“Best keep your mind on the case, detective,” he murmurs, palms settling on your ankles and tracing up the sides of your calves, “We wouldn’t want the killer gettin’ away now, would we?”
You swallow thickly, holding the cards with shaking hands as you feel Benoit place a lingering kiss on the inside of your knee. He skirts the tip of his nose up the inside of your thigh, humming softly as he squeezes the meat of your calves in his hands.
Focus. Focus. It couldn’t have been Benoit; he’s rescinded his cards. So, it was one of the Ghost Hands. Blue was suspicious, and you’d already discovered she was carrying a wrench. However, she had a decent alibi… Meanwhile, you had barely anything on Purple.
You roll the dice again, the face showing a two rather than the hand glass you had been hoping for. Gritting your teeth, you attempt to rake over the evidence, only to be interrupted by your vision swimming suddenly.
Benoit’s nose notches against your clit through your tights, his head practically buried beneath the fabric of your skirt. He groans softly, inhaling the scent of your sex. You whimper, the edges of his glasses pressing against the junction of your thigh as he presses a delicate kiss to your slit through your panties.
“Do me a favour, Dear,” he breathes against your thigh, pressing kisses to the nylon fabric. He doesn’t have to state what he wants from you explicitly. Fumbling with clumsy hands, you set the cards down quickly on the armrest and pull the hem of your skirt over your hips to give Benoit better access.
“Much obliged,” he whispers to you, and you can hear the gratuitous smirk playing on his lips. Attempting to ignore him and focus on the cards, you endeavour to read the clue, which is written in plain English. You haven’t yet fully deciphered it, thanks to Benoit’s tinkering.
He has other plans, though, nipping at your skin through the fabric of your tights. You jolt slightly with each bite he gives you, and you can hear him chuckle beneath you.
“Anythin’?” Benoit teases you with a combination of kisses and nibbles trailing up your thigh. It takes a moment for your answer to form on your tongue, toes curling in your heels.
“Mhm- N-Not yet,” you stumble over your words despite your attempt to conceal your evident appreciation for his affections.
“Hmm,” he hums, the rumble in his chest setting your hair on end as he, once again, presses lingering kisses over your panties. “I feel a noose tightenin’.”
Everything inside you freezes, and you’re quick to glance at the miniature weapon icons. The rope lays dead centre of the pile, and you’re forced to reconsider everything. Was Benoit giving you a hint?
Admittedly, you don’t have time to contemplate. As you open your mouth to question him, Benoit sucks on your clit through your panties. Your line of questioning dies in your throat, instead coming out as a strangled ‘Ahhh~’.
As quickly as he offers you the blissful sensation, he’s stealing it away. He pulls back, sitting on his haunches, and you’re blinking back your arousal to see him clearly. “W-Why did you…?”
Benoit hushes you gently with a wicked smile. “I think you should focus on the case.”
Smug bastard.
Filled with the desire for retribution, you cast your eyes back to the clue cards in your hand. They’re slightly creased now due to the tight grip you’re holding them with. You manage to make out the words ‘Name One…’ before a clicking sound pulls your attention away yet again.
The glint of light reflecting off the blade in his hand had your heart seizing. Not in fear, no, but exhilaration. See, Benoit carried the flip knife on his person always. It was less of a weapon for self-defence than a family heirloom, and Benoit never took it out without good reason. Simply asking to see it would not gain you access to the elusive dagger.
Your breath hitches, adrenaline buzzing down your spine.
“Now, hold still,” Benoit insists, impossibly blue eyes gazing up at your face through the lenses of his glasses. You nod quickly, both showing him you are listening and urging him forward with his plan.
You watch as he leans forward, slipping the knife's point into the nylon at your crotch. Utterly motionless, you whimper as your lover pulls the handle upwards and slices through the fragile material with ease.
“Been wantin’ you to keep these fine stockin’s on …” Benoit whispers against your thigh, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh there as he closes the knife with a click and slips it back into his pocket.
“H-Huh?” You tremble beneath his affections, his lips travelling further up the inside of your legs, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
“Case, Detective,” he replies flatly, sliding the pad of his index finger against your slit through the cotton of your panties, “You’re deducin’ a murder weapon— it’s in plain sight.”
“Right,” you nod dumbly, swallowing back your arousal and glancing at the board. The box said the game was suitable for ages eight and up; surely it shouldn’t be this difficult. There had to be evidence you had overlooked. Your notes are settled on the coffee table, and you venture to decipher the evidence as you take up the booklet with trembling hands.
But then Benoit is hooking his finger inside the crotch of your panties, pulling the fabric to the side and exposing your sex. You almost drop the notepad on his head. “How ‘bout you take me through your notes, Dear Detective?”
You would, God, you absolutely would if you could. However, Benoit’s tongue drags against your slit, and your mind goes numb, buzzing as though it has a pins-and-needles sensation. He hums, amusement lilting his voice as he watches you struggle.
Overwhelmed, you completely forget about the game of Cluedo, tilting your head over the back of the chair and sliding your fingers through the greying man’s hair. The notebook falls from your hand, clattering against the wooden floor but you’re already too far gone to care.
Eager to please you further, Benoit is gripping your thighs, lifting them so they settle on his shoulders. The nylon tights rub against his neck this way, and you’re sure it spurs him on because he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit. It jolts your body forward, and that maddening chuckle sounds between your legs again.
“Now, Darlin’,” he croons, and you’re whining due to the lack of friction already, “You be careful. The killer’ll be gettin’ away.”
You choke on an apology, Benoit burying his face into your cunt and sucking at your clit keenly. He’s swirling your clit with the tip of his tongue, one, two, three times, and then dragging over the seam of your sex to lap up your slick.
Not only was the man eloquent, but he was also persuasive with his tongue. Trembling in your seat, you sob out as your muscles tense against it. Your legs twitch against the shoulders of his suit, and you arch your hips up to grind against his face.
“Detective,” he prompts you, and you suck in a breath like you’re coming up for air after being suspended in water. Your eyes roll back, and you try to focus hard on what it is he’s requesting of you.
“Hngg- B-Blue has a go-good alibi—” you let out an obscene whine, the wet noises of his tongue dragging against your soaked pussy diverting you from the task at hand.
“Mhmm?” He hums, and the vibration has you bucking against his face again, sobbing out his name in a broken whimper.
“A-And I’m not sure about Purple!” You squeak out. God, it’s so messy. You’re soaking his face, and you’re sure you can see your slick glossing up his nose and chin. If you stained the seat, you’re not even sure he’d mind; the blues of his eyes engulfed by the black of his pupils.
It’s a wave of pleasure building, teasing at your abdomen and throbbing through you with each pulse of your heart. You inhale deeply, feeling it tease at the edges of your skin. You’re devastated, overpowered by the ecstasy clawing at the base of your spine— you don’t even notice what it is you’re saying.
"I-I-It was the- ohhhh fuck, Benny~" you sob out, tears rolling down your cheeks, “It’s you— Hgnn fuck!-!”
"Hm? Use your words, dear. You're makin' an accusation, you know. Don't want to slip your words now." He’s entertained by your bewilderment, “Especially when the person you’re accusin’ has given you a damn good alibi.”
You’re so far gone that you’re not even embarrassed that you’d just implicated the one person you could be sure wasn’t the killer. Swallowing sobs, you watch as Benoit circles your clit repeatedly with his tongue, eyes staring straight up at you and watching you come apart.
It all happens so fast. Your toes are curling in your shoes as the cramping sensation of your oncoming orgasm takes hold. One of your shoes falls off and clatters to the floor, and Benoit places the flat of his palm against your pubic bone.
“Oh God-!” You choke out, whining as he continues with the devastating pattern he’s drawing. “I’m gonna— Shit, Benny, it’s—“
He’s nodding without removing his mouth from you as though he’s telling you ’I know’. It’s shoving you right off the edge, those beautiful blue eyes blinking slowly and taking in every inch of the image of ecstasy on your face.
It pulses right between your legs, throbbing against his tongue like a pulse. You scream out his name, all of the muscles in your body tensing so hard that you’re cramping. Your vision goes white, and you’re gripping Benoit’s hair so tightly that you’re surprised you don’t rip any out.
You’re suspended for a moment, and then everything melts away, every inch of your body melting against the plush of the seat. Distantly, you recognise the smile against his lips, pressed to your skin.
“… Who was it?” You slur like you’re drunk on the dopamine he’s just overdosed you on. He laughs heartily, and you can’t help but smile with him.
“Blue.”
“Fuck!” You gasp out, palms covering your face and digging your nails into your hairline. As if! “When on earth did you figure that out, Benny?”
He sits back on his knees, pulling the handkerchief from his breast pocket, wiping his chin and nose to remove the slick you had rubbed onto him. “Mhmm… Why, I figured it out the moment you laid out the cards.”
You scoff now, disjointedly sitting up in your chair. The muscles of your arms are like jelly, and you struggle to raise yourself. “Are you that good that you could tell at first glance?”
Again, a smug smile plays at the edge of Benoit’s lips, his eyes flicking up to your face.
“No… I simply saw the cards you drew.”
END
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cas-kingdom · 8 months
Text
White Flower
A/N: Definitely a long time coming. I've been so slow in my writing since starting university but I'm glad to finally have this one done. Hopefully you all enjoy the introduction of my OC!
Set in the aftermath of Glass Onion.
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Title: White Flower
Summary: Fleur Blanc, art student and only daughter of the world's greatest detective, wants to steal the Mona Lisa.
Words: 2336
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Despite the alarm and the impassive yelling of “this is a smokeless garden”, Benoit Blanc believed he quite deserved this cigarette, thank you very much. Trying was one word to describe the weekend he’d had. All-round tits up was another.
Besides. The island was pretty much a raging pit of alarms, fire, and general chaos by now. One more addition didn’t make much of a difference, and there certainly was no stopping the activation of the hydrogen fuel now.
“Oh, do shut up,” he said anyway, because it felt good, and because the first yell had made him jump and squish his cigarette between two fingers.
He reached for another and let his sunglasses fall over his eyes, squinting into the distance.
The horrifically neon pink of Birdie Jay’s sunhat stuck out like a sore thumb in the midst of the remaining participants of the weekend’s fiasco. They were all fanned out across the beach, as far apart from each other as possible, waiting impatiently for the policeboats to arrive. Ironic, really, considering how they’d arrived, each one a suck up to the next.
Benoit lit his new cigarette and shook his head with a scoff. “Megalomaniac, Janus-faced…” He muttered the words under his breath and took a puff. The alarm and impassive yelling restarted, and the second cigarette promptly joined the one on the ground.
“For the love of...”
He was owed a proper vacation after this, at the very least.
The yelling stopped abruptly with a crackle and a robotic groan. When Benoit turned, he was met with the sight of a young woman, her feet precariously placed between the gaps of the odd white sculpture that the yelling emanated from.
No longer.
After a violent snap, she held a handful of the offending wires, a look of irritation settling on her face. A flick of long hair and a moment later she tossed the wires onto dry land and followed them down into the shallow water with a quiet splash. Benoit rose a brow and fit his third cigarette neatly between smirking lips.
“Why, thank you, my darlin’.”
Fleur Blanc, twenty-year old art student and daughter of the world’s greatest detective, offered a mock bow as she stepped out of the water. She stretched out a leg and shook her foot dry as her father turned his gaze back towards the beach.
It hadn’t been his idea to bring Fleur along on this particular adventure, and he had in fact protested against it when she and that good-for-nothing roommate of his had suggested it, remembering quite well the last time his detective business had taken him on a wild ride. Alas, lockdown had turned Fleur into a firecracker and Philip had eventually boiled Benoit’s options down to “you take her with you, or I take myself out with the shotgun in the safe.” All fun and games, of course. Of course.
He couldn’t say her presence had been unappreciated. Apart from the obvious ease in her company, and the slightest spark of feeling like they were on a proper vacation, she had helped with the investigation, too. His little detective in the making, he’d always teased, though for as much as he was sure she loved the thrill of investigation, he was certain her career path would lead her straight to the arts.
That certainty was consolidated at the unusual silence coming from Fleur. When he turned, she was standing with her back to him, her eyes fixed on what remained of the Glass Onion. The structure that had once been so…not on fire generated quite the backdrop for his obviously preoccupied daughter. Her head tilted, arms crossed, feet bare and loose hair billowing behind her in the summer breeze, one would assume she was the picture of innocence.
Benoit knew better.
The moment she glanced over her shoulder, a twinkle in her eyes and the—in this case—horrifying beginning of “Dad?” on the tip of her tongue, Benoit pulled his cigarette from his mouth and pointed it at her. His own head dipped dangerously low, and his brows raised in what Fleur knew to be warning.
“No,” he said. Firm and simple. He would not deny she often found herself wrapped around his little finger, but this was one thing he’d be ridiculous to abide by.
“But—”
“My goodness, Fleur, no!”
Fleur narrowed her eyes and whipped her head back around. Benoit saw her fingers tapping rhythmically against her forearm. He remained still, waiting, ready. Because when a thought entered Fleur’s mind, she was hard-pressed to get rid of it.
With a defining nod and not a single glance back, Fleur slipped her flip-flops on and started walking with absolute intent. Benoit rushed after her. He grasped her shoulder and stopped her before she could take another step.
Fleur was ready for him. “I’m doing it,” she stated, “I’ve decided. I have to.”
“You are insane if you truly think—it’s—you are just preposterous, child!”
“But, Dad, it can’t be a crime, right? Most of it’s already destroyed!”
Benoit spluttered. He dropped the cigarette and, with a sudden distaste for the thing, squashed it under the toe of his shoe.
“Jesus, God, Satan, give me strength,” he muttered under his breath, not for the first time concerning his daughter and certainly not for the last. He grasped her by the shoulders, ensuring she couldn’t avoid his gaze, then, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Fleur, sweetheart, you want to steal the Mona fudgin’ Lisa.”
“Rehome,” Fleur was quick to correct. “And it’ll have a better life with me! You really think Miles appreciated it as much as I will?” That was a given. “And—and only a small part, Dad, that’s all I want.” She suddenly hardened her stare, that familiar seriousness suddenly reappearing. “That’s all I need.”
The detective’s speechlessness after that closing statement could have been due to a number of things. One, because the pure gall of this girl never ceased to amaze him. Two, because something seemed to blow up behind them, a puff of smoke emanating from the top of what used to be the Onion. Three, the most likely contender, because the moment said explosion had him distracted, Fleur ducked under his hold and made her way intently towards it.
Like father, like daughter, was all he could think. And he wasn’t referencing himself.
Surprising, considering he followed after her with absolutely zero hesitation.
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The Glass Onion’s majesty was long gone. The maddest of people would advise anyone and everyone to stay about a hundred feet from its flaming mess, armed with a hard-shell helmet and a fire extinguisher, just in case anything went even more wrong. Which, looking at it, was likely.
Still, as was typically—stupidly—the case, Benoit Blanc stood in the middle of it all.
One hand wrapped around his daughter’s, the other gripping the doorframe for easy escape, his wide eyes darted around the Onion. If he was any less focused on the state of his surroundings, he would have been more concerned at his daughter’s lack of concern. True, the fire had somewhat died down, and the structure itself looked less ready to cave in than it had done before, but safe was still not a word he would use to describe it.
Helen’s stunt had certainly done a number on poor Mona, but the world of aesthetes could decidedly remain relieved with the knowledge that some parts of her were untouched. Surrounded by what had once been her glass refuge, she sat still in the place she had done since Miles had obtained her. One eye was black, the other pristine. A side of her hair reflected the fire, the other had been destroyed by it. Needless to say, the majority of her was gone, and if Fleur had the time, Benoit had no doubt she’d be down on her hands and knees, collecting the ashes in a little pot and shamelessly risking her life in the process. Alas, he would sooner drag her out, kicking and screaming, than have her be here a moment longer than she apparently needed to be.
Benoit watched his daughter’s eyes as they scanned the room before landing on Mona. In less than a second, that tell-tale glint went from inquisition to pure delight. It seemed no amount of staring from outside of the case could prepare her for now. True, the painting was charred more than not, and his watchful eye did catch a spark of disappointment, but it only seemed to spur her determination in getting it safely within her grasp.
Parental instincts ablaze since the moment he’d stepped foot on the island, Benoit immediately tightened his grip on her hand and yanked her back when she made to move forward. “Hold your horses,” he said, waiting for her eyes to meet his before wildly gesturing around them. “There’s glass everywhere, Fleur, and you’re wearing flip-flops. Why would you bring flip-flops to this island and nothing else?”
“We’re on vacation!”
“You knew darn well this wasn’t a vacation!”
Fleur spluttered for a moment before pointing accusingly at his own choice of footwear. “Like you and your boat shoes can do any better.”
Benoit gasped. Audibly. “These have hard, glass-proof soles, I’ll thank you to notice.”
He wasn’t quite sure what it was that spurred him to his next decision. Perhaps it was the urgency of the situation. Or the very distant, but ever-closer, sound of sirens. Or, maybe, it was the pure eagerness of his daughter; eagerness of which had always softened his heart, no matter the circumstances.
Whichever it was, he tried not to think about the guilt that would remain on his conscience for the rest of his life as he turned and bent over slightly, motioning with his hands.
“Get on my back,” he said hurriedly. When Fleur stalled, shock settling quickly on her face, he motioned again. “Come, child, we haven’t got long.”
And, with that, Fleur hopped on her father’s back with as much excitement as a child. Benoit gripped her legs, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her chin on his shoulder, the biggest of grins adorning her lips.
“Look at you, Dad,” she said as he began walking, stepping carefully over large shards of glass.
“We are not to tell your father,” was his only response to her obvious insinuation that he was becoming rebellious in his old age.
“Might be a little difficult when we come home with the Mona Lisa. Ooh! Why don’t we take the Porsche home too? Just the steering wheel?”
Benoit uttered a silent apology to da Vinci.
“Do you see these grey hairs?” he said. “You are the cause.”
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Needless to say, through no innate conformism, Fleur’s inner connoisseur had won over her desire to keep a piece of the Mona Lisa in her cardholder. The moment the police had finished detailing the basics of the weekend’s mess with her father and struck up the sensitive question of the possibility of either of them having seen the Mona Lisa’s remainders at all during the night—Benoit believed it was their imploring “the Louvre are simply desperate to get it back” that had swayed her—Fleur had produced the scraps she’d been able to save from her pocket. Handing them over with only the tiniest hint of reluctance, she’d smiled at the gratefulness from the police and watched them go with the bit of longing she could allow herself.
Chuckling softly, Benoit wrapped an arm around her and drew her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Well, darlin’,” he said, “I’m very proud of you, if it counts for something.”
Fleur breathed a deep sigh and pressed her lips in a thin smile. “It does. At least I cay say I’ve touched her, right, Dad?”
“Oh, absolutely. That’s more than most people can say, after all.”
The police were wrapping up now, gently guiding the exhausted party members onto a boat—one in particular in aptly placed handcuffs. The island itself would take mountains of work to be habitable again, he’d heard a firefighter voice in passing, and for a moment he wondered if Derol had made it onto the boat. After brief consideration, he decided Derol was probably better off here than America.
Benoit pushed his sunglasses down and steered himself and his daughter in the direction of the shore. He didn’t quite enjoy the idea of sharing a boat ride with previously-dubbed megalomaniac, Janus-faced…people, but alas, after today he would no longer experience the displeasure of seeing them again. Though, he would be glad for Helen to attend a few of his dinner parties when the pandemic allowed.
Fleur reached up to grasp her father’s hand at her shoulder as they walked slowly, stepping carefully around anything glinting in the sand. Then, quietly, “Where’re you gonna put your steering wheel?”
Ah. Benoit instinctively glanced down at the duffel bag in his free hand. True, it was heavier than it had been when he’d first arrived on the island, but he had told his daughter that he’d be much appreciated if she didn’t remind him of his rebelliousness at every given moment. Which she had.
“I’m going to lock it away in a safe, so it’s never found, and I’m never arrested for thieving,” he said, finality embedded in his tone. If anyone ever asked: no, he had not stolen the steering wheel of the Porsche 918 Spyder’s wreckage. No, he did not have it in his duffel bag, blanketed by his clothes and second pair of boat shoes. And, no, once it entered the safe he would never look at it again. Except on birthdays. And maybe Christmasses.
He couldn’t say he regretted it.
But he did regret not regretting it.
“And may I just reiterate,” he said, leaning closer towards her, “your father does not need to know a thing.”
Knives Out Masterpost
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