#benoit blanc fanfiction

[starryevermore]

Hey I’m a new knives out/glass onion/Benoit blanc enthusiast and I noticed your requests were open. I was thinking about Benoit being very easily flustered around his s/o (always blushing, being at loss of word) and maybe how others around him react to THE Benoit blanc just turning into mush whenever his little human is around 🙃 you can do whatever you want with that, I just thought it was a fun idea

lovestruck detective ✧ benoit blanc

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

request: Hey I’m a new knives out/glass onion/Benoit blanc enthusiast and I noticed your requests were open. I was thinking about Benoit being very easily flustered around his s/o (always blushing, being at loss of word) and maybe how others around him react to THE Benoit blanc just turning into mush whenever his little human is around 🙃 you can do whatever you want with that, I just thought it was a fun idea  - anon

pairing: benoit blanc x male!reader

word count: 457

warnings?: fluff, not proofread

it was almost comical, how flustered blanc got around you. how the usually calm, collected man would trip over his words. how his face would burn red. how he’d forget what he was doing the moment he laid eyes on you. 

in your not-so-humble opinion, that was the true marker of someone being in love. your mother had always told you, don’t trust a man who’s suave and can sweet-talk you into anything. those kind of men don’t care about you. those kind of men only care about what you’ll for them. no, no, she’d say, fall for the man who’ll trip over their own feet when they see you. fall for the man who can’t think straight because you occupy his mind. fall for the man who’d move the heavens and the earth just to see you smile.

when you first met blanc, it was at some stuffy party. a friend of his invited him, apparently in an effort to get the stoic man to lighten up a little. you had gone to network. both of you ended up bored out of your minds at the open bar. you caught his eye as you flagged down a bartender. he spilled his bourbon straight down his shirt. you laughed so hard you snorted. that night, you left with his number and a promise that he wouldn’t make another mess like that again. 

except, well, he did. he took you out to dinner, a real nice restaurant with a menu of foods you could hardly fathom the pronunciation of. he offered to order something for you, and you agreed. but when the waiter came, blanc was too busy staring at you to notice. when he finally did order, he stammered his entire way through until he was red in the face. he was so flustered that, when the food arrived, he ended up dropping his entire plate on his lap. you still didn’t understand how he managed to do that. 

people hardly understood how a man like benoit blanc could get so tongue-tied and starry-eyed around you. they’d always comment to you that he wasn’t what they expected. that they expected someone like james bond or batman. someone who didn’t let their feelings show very often. and, to be honest, that was usually true. blanc wouldn’t have the career he did if he wore his heart on his sleeve. but you brought out a side of him that he couldn’t hide—that he didn’t want to hide. 

so, yeah, blanc became something of a lovestruck full around you. he’d turn completely to mush the second he was with you. but you loved every second. because you’d be lying if you said you weren’t the exact same around him. 

[babydin]

Night Crawling

- The CRACKSHIP you didn't know you needed - Benoit Blanc of the Knives Out mysteries and Tim Rockford of the Merge Manson franchise. - 18+, minors DNI! - Old queers solve murder as foreplay. Mentions of murder, descriptions of violence, MLM, swearing, Lovers to enemies to lovers - 1238 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! A/N: Do I need to apologize for this? I won't. I can't promise I won't forget about the plot and just make this all about old queers This is part 1 of until I say it's over.

A sleepwalking man thinks he is in love with his best friend’s wife. One day he phones the police on himself because he wakes up covered in blood and his best friend’s wife is missing. He also hires a private detective to prove his innocence. What he doesn't know is the Gentleman Sleuth he called and the detective assigned to his case were lovers once, and tensions are high.

ONE: STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED AT SEA

 “Explain this to me one more time.”   Detective Tim Rockford rubbed his index finger over his lips as he pulled the car up to the crime scene.  He had seen his fair share of strange cases in his career, but this one had to have taken the lead for the weirdest one yet, so far at least. “The suspect sleepwalks,” his partner explained, tying her hair up into a tight pony, “he believes he’s in love with his best friend’s girl… now she’s missing and he just woke up covered in blood.” “And he called 911 himself?” Tim started to get out of the car after popping a tab of nicotine gum for a habit he told himself he was going to quit but never quite could. “Uh, yeah, he did – Tim, there’s something else…” Tim didn’t listen, he was already on the path up to the house. One thing about Detective Rockford, in the years Katie had known him, is that he marched to the beat of his own drum. Often because he was right. He was a good detective, a great detective in fact, but sometimes people weren’t his forte. She often wondered if that was why she had been partnered up with him, she was incredibly empathic, she was gentle, and Tim was rough around the edges, he thought in facts and logic. He still called her Rookie despite her coming up to a decade on the force, sometimes she thought it was his way of expressing affection.

   “What the fuck is he doing here?” Tim’s interjection when he saw someone on the scene who didn’t belong had the room filling with silence. Forensics staff paused briefly before continuing on, the suspect who was trembling in the corner looked between Tim and the other male. Benoit Blanc was not dressed for a crime scene, he very rarely was, he looked like he had just stepped off of a boat in Miami, with his linen pants and pastel pink shirt that was slightly open to make room for a neckerchief. He looked at Tim with eyes that were greeting an old friend who had just returned home from the war.  “What is that Kentucky-fried chicken shit doing at my crime scene?” “I tried to tell you.” Katie whispered under her breath, at the same time Benoit pushed his round, tortoise-shell spectacles up his nose and said “Well, come on now Detective Rockford, I was invited.”  Tim’s eyes flew to the suspect, his eyes burned into him like lasers and he silently demanded answers, but he did not give the man time to answer before he barked at his colleagues, “Why is he not in handcuffs? Get him out of here. Blanc, a word?”

Benoit knew Tim well enough to know when he was demanding and when he was asking, and that was a demand, he watched him slip away into a room with nobody in it and politely nodded at Tim’s partner before following behind him. The door closed. They were alone.

It wasn’t just that the private detective and the NYPD detective had worked together and didn’t get along, this wasn’t a clash of personalities or Tim thinking he was doing real detective work and Benoit was just a hobbyist. They were lovers once. They had met on a case almost 15 years ago, and their passion for solving a puzzle was almost like foreplay; they’d stay up until the smallest hours of the night, eating Chinese take out and trying to look for clues, the way Benoit would slip out of his suspenders and let them hang down by his thighs would drive Tim insane, then he’d bite into a spring roll and curse a stray splash of soy sauce and he’d suddenly see something they’d both missed and there’d be a sudden clash of teeth and egg fried rice spilled on the floor and race to see who could get the other’s pants off the quickest. Benoit always got a kick out of how gruff Tim was, how rough he was, but he was surprisingly gentle in the afterglow. But Tim’s edges got a little too rough, the long nights got too long, and Tim started to prefer solving cases alone, and when Benoit asked him why he couldn’t give him a reason, he just shrugged coldly and told him he had to go. Benoit told him he wouldn’t be there when he got back, the implication that he meant in their house that they had laughed in and loved in, that Benoit had filled with antiques and Tim had filled with books. And it wouldn’t just be for one night. He was telling him, without saying it, that their relationship was over. And Tim just looked over his shoulder without looking him in the eye and said “Fine.”

7 years later they were together again, and the tension was thicker than gravy.

  “What in the fuck are you doing here?” Tim barked, placing his hands on his hips, his fingers lucid as if that might make him appear more intimidating. Benoit leaned his rear against a nearby table and stretched out his legs to cross them, his arms folding across his chest, both men trying to appear as unapproachable as possible to hide the fact they wanted nothing more than to embrace, “A man sleepwalks, every night for 25 years, not only that, he also seems to have himself convinced he’s in love with his best friend’s wife–” “Blanc–” “--Now our suspect wakes up from his nighttime stroll, spattered with blood–” “Blanc–” “--best friend brayin’ on his door hollin’ about his wife not bein’ in bed when he woke up this mornin’--” “Benny!”

The nickname stopped him in his tracks. His face softened and he looked at Tim as if he was sorry for something; he had missed hearing him call him that, he didn’t know until that moment. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Despite the harshness of the words, the question was a lot softer this time,and somewhere Benoit knew that in his own Rockford way it was him asking where he had been, how he had been, how he managed to land this case. “I was invited.” Benoit echoed his previous words firmly, in that accent that just melted the ice around Tim’s heart. “I’m not stalkin’ you, I’m not here to dig up old ghost, or rekindle any flames. I’m here ‘cause I was asked. That delightful man you just put in handcuffs called me. I haven’t quite figured out why you and I must always end in handcuffs–” Tim was already frowning, although Benoit had learned not to take it personally. Tim’s brow creased a lot, he had a permanently concerned expression on his face, his forehead always so heavy, he often wondered if it was a con of the job. “The suspect called you?” Benoit nodded, “I have heralded quite the reputation for my detective work, don’t sound so surprised Timothy.” “He called 911 himself.. Too.. Is that not odd?” The Southerner’s lips twitched into a smile, and he shrugged his shoulders in a ‘kind of’ manner, “Stranger things have happened at sea. Admit it.” “What? I’ve never been to sea.” “No… You missed this. Didn't you?” Tim was stubborn as a mule but Benoit knew all his tells and the way the left side of his upper lip twitched upwards just a little, was a reluctant yes.

[starberrysap]

when i get too far into my headcanons that i forget i’m the only person in the world who thinks that benoit blanc of knives out fame is the estranged gay uncle (first cousin once removed) of bernard dowd of dc robin boyfriend fame

[maeze03]

Why am I being called out like this??!

[salty-dracon]

One little thing I love about the Benoit Blanc films is that they're not afraid to incorporate modern conveniences in a way that just wouldn't be possible in a pre-smartphone or pre-modern era. There really is no replacement for the role of the Google Alerts (or just Google in general) in Glass Onion, for instance.

But that also makes me think about how many incomprehensible elements of modern culture I can efficiently work into a murder mystery. Which led me to write this absolutely ridiculous passage about a scene from a hypothetical Benoit Blanc movie...

---

The group of suspects huddled about each other in the hospital's cafeteria. Some were wearing white coats while others wore blue scrubs.

Two nurses in scrubs sat close to each other, silently watching the chaos.

"I believe you."

Morgan turned her head at the sudden words. Her friend and coworker Ellie Woods, sitting next to her, emotion barely registering on her face, had uttered them.

"You believe me?" Morgan asked, her voice tinged with hope.

"I know you didn't slip poison into his IV bag." Ellie continued to stare straight ahead, saying nothing. "I don't want to believe it."

Morgan's face fell. "That's... not the same as believing me."

"Sorry." Ellie's face wrinkled. "But the truth is-"

The two fell to silence once more as the great detective walked into the room. The rest of the room hushed immediately, including the three police officers who were guarding the group.

"I have gathered you all here," Benoit Blanc began, wrapping his arms behind his back, "to fully expound upon the truth of the murder of Edward Riverton."

"We already know who did it." The lead police detective stepped up. "The murder occurred between 7:00 and 7:15 PM based on the time the victim's watch stopped, and there was only one member of the hospital staff who doesn't have a confirmed alibi for that time." He motioned to Morgan, who dejectedly looked down at her lap. Ellie protectively put an arm around Morgan's shoulder.

"Then let's clear that up first." Blanc shook his head. "Morgan does indeed have an alibi for the period of time between 7:00 and 7:15 PM."

"I do?" Morgan asked. Her eyes widened with the realization of what was to come out of his mouth next. "No. No no no no no. Please don't say it."

"Morgan, they're accusing you of murder!" Ellie exclaimed.

Morgan's voice was panicked. "If I lose my job-"

"Just say it!" Ellie shouted.

"Ms. Woods, of course, knows what I'm talking about-" - Ellie jumped at the mention of her name - "but she would never elaborate out of respect for her friend. Now, Ms. Morgan Fitzgerald, would you please open up your Genshin Impact account and navigate to the pulls?"

Morgan gave a sad huff and opened the app on her phone. She showed it to the group with a dejected look on her face. There were 0 primogems left.

"Morgan!" Dr. Anderson's furious voice shocked her. "I told you, no feeding your gambling addiction when you're on the clock!"

"As you can see," Benoit continued, "Morgan, having been called in on the day the new patch of her favorite gacha game was coming out, ran down to her locker in the basement, pulled out her phone, and ran to the women's bathroom at precisely 7:00 PM. There, she immediately spent all of her gacha currency on the banner that had just come out, which took her approximately 10 minutes. I can only imagine it didn't go well, but of course she couldn't explain that in view of her boss Doctor Anderson, who had threatened to fire her if he caught her 'feeding her gambling addiction' again."

[Morgan walked back to the cafeteria at 7:15, with a sullen and dejected look on her face. Ellie and Dr. Anderson were eating dinner at separate tables.

"Hey," Ellie whispered, "how'd it go?"

Morgan shook her head, saying nothing.]

Morgan gave a sheepish grin at Dr. Anderson's glare.

"Oh my god, I thought you were lying," Ellie said. "You should have just shown me your damn account."

"We were both with Dr. Anderson all day. I didn't have a chance." She pressed her lips into a thin line, before whispering, "Constellation 3."

Ellie's mouth dropped open. "You lost all four 50/50s?" she whispered in disbelief.

"Yeah." She lowered her voice to a grumble. "Pulled Diluc twice."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Ellie's voice carried the casual sympathy that only a fellow fan would have.

"Needless to say," Benoit continued, "now that everyone has an alibi, it only follows that the murder was not committed between 7:00 and 7:15 as previously assumed. So," he said, walking back towards the center of the circle, "what actually happened? And how did the killer manage to falsify the time of death?"

(Note: I imagine that the viewer spends most of this hypothetical movie thinking that Morgan's supposed gambling problem involves her blowing away all of her money at casinos and slot machines or something. This is the first strict reveal that her gambling addiction is strictly an addiction to gacha games. And she's F2P.)

[cartograffiti]

I Am Not Batman

Fandom: Benoit Blanc mysteries, Knives Out series, Batman Rated: T No archive warnings apply Word count: 886 - Featuring: Benoit Blanc, Bruce Wayne - Benoit Blanc attends a Christmas party at Wayne Manor and things get off to a bad start.

A crack treated seriously crossover written for the Battleship Exchange 2024.

[wolverton]

VIRGIN MARGARITA

by tenderising & wolverton

T | Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter + Benoit Blanc/Phillip | WIP

SUMMARY:

Somewhere in Cuba at the height of summer, a man is missing and with him, a special cocktail recipe that divided the populace. The world-renowned detective Benoit Blanc is on the case with his part-time sidekick and full-time husband Phillip. On the other side of town, Hannibal Lecter—who does not yet know he is about to become a murder suspect, but would not find it all that surprising if he did—is beginning to experience the consequences of his actions in unprecedented ways. The love of his life, Will Graham, claims that karma waits for no one.

Summer domestics in the heart of Cuba, a murder mystery, and crack that is only occasionally treated seriously, brought to you lovingly in collaboration with @tenderising <3

READ ON AO3

[bonkwosher]

OHMYGOD I HAVE POLLS

I'm gauging interest for which I should write this weekend & requests I should prioritize in general! Requests are still open too if you want to request more!

[butyoucouldberadiant]

I LOVE this!!!

I imagine things go about the same in the North Pole with the whole “women can’t learn water bending thing,” though maybe there are more open minds since she’s “the avatar.” The fire nation invading the North Pole goes worse since Aang’s not there to go into the avatar state, though. Katara and Sokka worry that they’re in over their heads and feel like the North Pole was counting on them and that they let them down, and they think about going home.

En route, they end up meeting Toph anyway cause Sokka wants to go see the match (or maybe Katara suggests it to cheer him up since his girlfriend turned into the moon) when they’re in her town. Someone says, “hey, aren’t you the avatar?” to Katara while Toph is around and somehow they get to talking and Katara and Sokka admit the truth to Toph and how they’re giving up. Toph is like “pfft, that’s dumb. Has anything changed? I still don’t see an avatar coming to save us. Sounds like we need to do it ourselves,” (probably the most canon divergent part since she needed to be convinced to come, but she also hates it at home. Oh nooooo, I’ll have to rewatch the ep and get some ideas XD). So they decide to continue but to try to get more help. Toph is very down for helping Katara pretend to be the avatar, so she joins them, and they go around looking for more help and running into shenanigans.

For air, I’d love it if they find someone who didn’t know they were of air bender descent (someone from the fire nation specifically would be super cool!!! Or like that fan theory that Ty Lee is of air bender descent; she could defect, maybe at the same time as Zuko so they’re both uncomfy or so he can be jealous of how easily she fits into the group), but someone whose family escaped the genocide and has been keeping up their bending in hiding would also be cool.

Even by the time Zuko finally joins them, they’ve somehow still managed to hide the fact that Katara isn’t the avatar from most of the world. They keep it from him even once he joins them, trying to make sure they trust him. Finally, either they decide to tell him or he figures it out when Toph or the air bender clearly bends when it would have been easier for Katara to do it, if she could. Zuko is absolutely baffled. Like, he’s not okay for several days. It was one thing when the avatar’s team was just a ragtag bunch of minors and had managed to evade his whole country, but the fact that a random teen with no mystical powers was able to cause such a problem is just too much. When they explain that they need his job to be faking that Katara knows firebending, he has 5,000 reasons why it won’t work. But, eventually he agrees.

Sokka and Teo inventing stuff will be invaluable tbh - I think she’ll eventually need a flame thrower to be convincing. Maybe Teo comes with them, or maybe he just gives them a couple ideas and Sokka is sole team inventor, as in the normal universe.

As for ships, I’m not sure. Zutara might be a fun enemies to lovers, but I feel like some of why they feel like a good match in the original universe involved a certain amount of… open ness? The strongest example I can think of atm is when they’re imprisoned together in Ba Sing Se, but the point is that him thinking she’s the avatar and that he needs to capture her is very different from thinking she’s just on the avatar’s team. Her guard’s as high as it can be already (unless he were to actually be the one who killed her mom), but that would definitely be an obstacle, I think. I’m not sure they’d be able to open up enough in this AU to have the seeds earlier on, so it might be less feasible or at least a much slower build (which could be good depending on how you do it… I’d honestly be really interested to see it play out).

Avatar AU where Aang stays in the iceberg and Katara is mistakenly believed to be the Avatar after she “earthbends” a rock by moving the ice inside it.

Instead of telling the truth and letting everyone down, she and Sokka pull on an elaborate charade and go on a journey to convince the world that the Avatar is back.

[starryevermore]

Hi. Could you write Benoit Blanc x gn reader (platonic). Like they are at the party and they see their friend's bf cheating, so they take him out to "talk" to him. Reader is trying not to punch him, but after he says something awful to reader Blanc punches him. Thank you.

vaguely southern gentleman ✧ benoit blanc

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

request: Hi. Could you write Benoit Blanc x gn reader (platonic). Like they are at the party and they see their friend's bf cheating, so they take him out to "talk" to him. Reader is trying not to punch him, but after he says something awful to reader Blanc punches him. Thank you. - anon

pairing: benoit blanc x gn!reader (platonic)

word count: 654

warnings?: not proofread

“I can’t believe that asshole,” you muttered to Blanc. “Doing this shit? In public? He’s fucking asking to get caught.”

Your friend—world’s greatest detective, Benoit Blanc—followed your gaze as he sipped his drink. “Folks like him never think they’re gonna get caught.”

“We need to do something.” You lifted your phone, snapping a picture of him as he leaned into some blonde, his lips so close that they were nearly locked together. You would probably need proof of this. Scumbags like him are all about that gaslighting bullshit. “Katie would want us to do something.”

Blanc looked at you, his brow arching. “I ain’t been in a dogfight in some time. I’m a bit rusty.”

You rolled your eyes, punching him in the arm. “I meant, like, talk to him or something. You know, you use that vaguely Southern charm of yours to lure him outside and we confront him. Tell him he’s a piece of shit and to leave Katie before we make his life miserable or something.”

“Vaguely Southern?” Blanc repeated.

“I can’t figure out if you’re, like, a British person putting on a Southern accent or if you’re from some really out of the way part of Georgia or Alabama. I don’t know. Sounds equal parts fake and believable.”

Blanc shook his head at you then turned back to the scumbag. “I’ll lure him out. I’ll meet you on the balcony with him in, say, five minutes?”

“The Benoit Blanc I know and love will have him out in less than two,” you teased. You set your drink down, deciding you no longer wanted to finish it, wanting some vague semblance of sobriety for what would happen next. You gave Blanc a pat on the back, then walked away. 

True to his nature, Blanc had that piece of shit on the balcony in just under two minutes. The man stared at you with the best sneer he could muster. If you were being honest, it looked more like a dog took a shit under his nose than it did anything remotely intimidating. You arched a brow at him.

“You got a whole lotta nerve thinking you can do this shit in public and think no one’ll find out,” you said. 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s what this is about? Piss off.”

Your fingers curled into a fist. “Really? That’s what you’re gonna say? Not even gonna try to justify your actions?”

He shrugged. “Why should I? Maybe if your friend was more fun, I wouldn’t have to find pleasure elsewhere.”

Blanc took a step closer to you, watching you closely. He knew you well, knew you well enough to know the rage was simmering just below the surface. He knew you well enough to know you were seconds away from lashing out. 

The scumbag stepped closer, too. His sneer shifted into a smirk, his disgusting eyes raking over you. “You know, if you’re ever looking for a good time—”

“Don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a prude. Everyone knows that you love being passed around all of our friends—”

Your jaw dropped. Your mind raced as you tried to figure out the best, most efficient way to rip his ass apart when Blanc became a blur beside you. He surged forward, his fist connecting with the piece of shit’s stupid fucking face. The dumbass crumpled to the floor. 

You glanced between the unconscious man and your friend. “…I thought it’s been a while since you were in a dogfight.”

Blanc’s mouth twitched into a smile. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping at the blood on his knuckles. “Wasn’t much of a dogfight, was it?”

“I suppose not.” You looked back at the dumbass, then started to walk off the balcony. “C’mon, we should probably go find Katie and tell her what’s up before he wakes up and starts spewing shit.”

[alexjcrowley]

Yesterday night I felt sick with my stomach and stayed awake all night making audio recordings to my best friend about watching Quantum of Solace for the first time (I am still finishing it) and then I started randomly talking about 00q and accidentally opened up the Pandora Box of my memories but I instantly remembered everything I ever knew about 00q like when it got adopted by the BBC Sherlock fandom or the Paddington is the new Quartermaster stuff or when everybody was obsessed with the fucking Téméraire and it was EVERYWHERE and everybody made the joke "It's a ship!!!" and the age difference discourse between James and Q and Q being called Quentin and Mycroft and Sherlock being Q older brothers and disapproving of his relationship with James Bond and the fucking tea mugs and so many cats and everybody talking about Q's jumpers and making up OC minions for him and every fanfiction in which James retires to be with Q because he was the only one he ever loved aside from Vesper and Q feeling insecure because of her and all then Madeleine Sawnn came along and everybody was distraught even though the flirting was there in Spectre and we were all distraught because we could have had it all and so many fix it fics so many fics about James cosntantly loosing his gadgets and how hard it was for Q to watch him seduce other people and everybody was saying they were grumpy x sunshine/black cat x Golden retriver coded BUT THEY WERE NOT ACTUALLY in my humble opinion but they were easily flustered x flirting menace and Q had such salty one-liners and everybody believed he was a posh boy and do you remember when years later you had the same museum scene with Hannibal it was clearly a parallel and then there was No Time To Die and Q was officially queer oh my God oh my fucking God it was CANON he TOTALLY CANONICALLY MUST HAVE HAD A CRUSH ON BOND and we saw THE CATS and WHO WAS Q WAITING FOR?????? James must have been jealous but then the movie was what it was and a lot of people hated it and all of the fix it fics in which Bond said his last words to Q because it was always Q it will always be Q and also everybody making up names for him names were such a huge deal Q revealing his name to James in his last moments grieving fics in which James died but you also had silly ones and spicy ones uhhh a lot of those because sometimes you just need to ignore canon and see them happy and maybe both retiring or maybe they kept working flirting over the comms and annoying everyone at MI6 which wasn't exactly Avengers "Everybody Lives in The Tower" au but it was close they weren't a found family per se but some of them were very close there used to be edits on youtube yeah before TikTok came along youtube edits were A ThingTM with all those retrica-looking filters and pop songs or sad love songs and fake trailers who remembers those or like scenes edited to look like they were from a romcom and comments on the scenes written in small usually white text that were meant to reflect the character inner thoughts like "That's hot" or "He's so annoying I need to kiss him" or "BITCH" and fics in which Q was kidnapped and James went berserk and a few years ago Knives Out came out and we tried to to have Bond and Benoit Blanc related do you also remember that?

[the-hourglass83]

I'm finally getting the hang of this Tumblr thing so how about an intro post:

Hi, I'm Lindsay 👋 she/her

Then: I was a kid in the '80s and a teen in the '90s. I watched Nickelodeon, the Disney Afternoon and Cartoon Network, and wrote fanfiction and RPGs about it with my friends in a spiral notebook. 😆 I studied English and art in college and love to write and draw.

Now: I do communications and social media for a large U.S. retail company. Wish I had more free time to write and create for fun. My goal is to carve some time out soon to start making and posting my own stuff again. Until then, exploring your creations brings me lots of joy.

First fandom: Mystery Science Theater 3000

Current obsession: Discworld! I finally read my first of The Watch series and now going down a huuuge rabbit hole. #VetinariforPresident2024

Other favorites: 

-Disney

-Marvel

-Star Wars

-The Muppets

-Hanna Barbera

-Classic '60s toons like Rocky & Bullwinkle, Total Television and Batfink

-Obscure '80s toons like Danger Mouse, Count Duckula, Maple Town, Willy Fog, The Little Koala and The Mysterious Cities of Gold

-Detectives, especially Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Nero Wolfe and Benoit Blanc

-Jeeves & Wooster

-Duckman

-Matt Groening's Disenchantment

-Asterix and Obelix

-The Adventures of Tintin

Tell me about you? 👇

[rosanna-writer]

It's your Secret Santa, skulking through the backdoor and into your kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. After anything in particular?

It is so sweet of you to enquire after me, especially since I've been so busy trying to get to know you a little better! I'll keep it short and sweet. For music I am more of a punk genre fan myself, especially pop punk, but in a complete swerve, one of my favorite artists is Prince. As for TV shows, I adored The Good Place and Schitt's Creek. Movies, Knives Out is one of my comforts - Daniel Craig was just socharming as Benoit Blanc. I have too many favorite books to possibly name, but one of them is definitely American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis.

Now, to turn the focus back onto you, my shining star!

When reading a fanfiction, what's the sort of experience you're looking for? Soaring, swooning romance? Crippling angst? Drama that has you on the edge of your seat?

I feel like I've got something good in mind for you, but I just need to work out the kinks.

Hope your week has been treating you kindly.

All my love, Secret Santa. 💖🎅💐

HI HELLO PLEASE TAKE A SEAT AND I'LL PUT THE KETTLE ON FOR YOU

When it comes to fic, I am sooooo not picky! I read pretty widely, and I'll give almost anything a shot, so don't sweat because I'll love whatever you come up with!

[starberrysap]

thinking about editing and posting the benoit blanc x batfam fanfiction i wrote last year except i told my creative writing class about it and in the rare off chance one of them finds it online and connects it back to me they'll find out all my weird shit through my ao3 bookmarks

[bits-and-babs]

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐭 || 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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.”

“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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[bi-bard]

Christmas Day - Benoit Blanc Imagine (Knives Out)

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.

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

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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