Request: 👋🏽 ur work is awesome! Can’t get enough of it. If requests are still open, can we have how James and Benoit would celebrate their s/o’s birthday? Thank you! @femalefilmaker
I decided to do this for all of the Craig characters because I thought the idea was cute! I’d also like to apologize for this being so insanely late. I’ve been going through a lot of personal stuff, so I haven’t been super inspired to write as of late.
I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!
Warnings: mentions of alcohol and hints of sex
Masterlist:
Benoit Blanc:
- He absolutely gets you some flowers. They’ll probably be placed in a vase on the kitchen table or by the window in the living room. You might not notice it right away, but he loves seeing the look of surprise on your face when you do see it.
- Benoit’s gifts are always thoughtful. He takes note of what kinds of books you’ve been reading recently or what color is missing in your fuzzy sock collection or what supplies you’re running out of that you need for your hobby.
- The two of you spend the day at a museum, either natural history or art. You might not be together the entire time because Benoit is the type of person to read each label, while you are not. You probably go to the exhibits you want to see, making sure to double back a few times to check up on him until the two of you decide to leave. You compare notes on the way home.
- He makes your favorite dinner, lights some candles, and plays some gentle jazz music. Maybe afterwards he’ll ask you for a dance. And honestly? You could probably dance with this man for hours. You find it incredibly charming how he hums along with the music and occasionally kisses your knuckles.
Joe Bang:
- You don’t even get the chance to eat breakfast before he hands you your present. It took him a very long time to figure out what you might like and he wants to see your reaction as soon as he can. He also has a present prepared for when the two of you turn in for the night ;)
- He takes you to an amusement park or the arcade, and absolutely tries to show off when playing the games. And he won’t care if it’s the silliest game on the block, he will put his all into it if there’s a prize that you want. There’s not a ride he won’t go on (although the idea of some of them do make his stomach turn) or a food he won’t eat if it means he gets to experience it with you.
- Dinner is the main event because of course it’s barbeque. Veggie kebabs or ribs, with cornbread and beans! Mac n’ Cheese pudding with collard greens on the side! What ever it is, Joe is going to pile it all on your plate.
- His brothers, Sam and Fish, are going to join you, alongside other family and friends. If your birthday in the spring or summer, you’ll all be surrounding the firepit for hours laughing and joking (s’mores!). If it’s in the winter, you’ll be eating inside on the floor and couch, maybe with a movie on in the background.
James Bond:
- The likelihood of James being able to make it is low, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t try and send you something.
- He struggles to get you something meaningful. He doesn’t celebrate peoples’ birthdays very often, much less his own, so he’s a bit lost. He ends up settling on a little gift shop souvenir from wherever he is, some flowers, and a card. The cards that James gives you are always on the funny side (there’s usually a pun involved). His written message is short, sweet, and to the point.
- It is the one day that you truly have him all to yourself (the holidays are the prime time for crime, you’ve discovered), so your wish is his command. He might make a face when you decide you want to go to an aquarium or the petting zoo, but he finds that he’s enjoying himself after a few minutes.
- James is also constantly touching you - light touches, nothing inappropriate, but almost needy. Your fingers are intertwined, his shoulder is bumping yours, a hand on your back, light kisses on your temple... Each gesture is so light, you almost miss it when it happens.
Jake Lonergan:
- His gifts are always practical. It’ll be a new pocket watch or a nice hat with a ribbon in your favorite color.
- It’s one of the few days out of the year that Jake will let you sleep in as long as you want to. Usually, he tries to pack up and get things going as soon as possible, but your birthday is special and he wants to give you a break from the rough travelling the two of you have been doing as of late.
- He’ll get tickets to a show, a travelling act or a little concert. It’s not much, but he’s happy to know that you like it when you take his hand in yours and rest your head on his shoulders.
- That night is filled with candlelight and laughter in an actual bed! He gets a room in the center of town just for the occasion.
Prof. Fluke Kelso:
- He’s made dinner reservations at your favorite restaurant at least a month in advance. And don’t worry, Fluke is not too keen on letting the place know that it’s your birthday in case it’s the type of place that goes all out. It’s also likely that the two of you will have desert at home with a glass of something sparkly or warm.
- The evening might end with a walk in a park or by taking the scenic view home with his arm around you. The two of you probably did all the talking over dinner, so now you just stroll in comfortable silence.
- His gifts are always small and sweet. Fluke says he’s the one who wrapped it, but chances are he asked the lady behind the register to do it for him...
- If he is on a work trip, he makes sure that you guys facetime and he’ll send you your gift through the mail. He will undoubtedly stress about whether or not it will arrive on time, to the point where you need to send him a picture of confirmation when it lands on the doorstep.
XXXX:
- The two of you don’t tend to go all out for birthdays, but that doesn’t mean you don’t take advantage of the opportunity to spend some quality time together. Because he’s his own boss, he decides his own hours, something he is very lucky to say hasn’t changed since getting his own bar.
- You’ll spend the morning inside, but he’ll take you somewhere nice for brunch and then you go window shopping. You like those shoes? He’s already asking for your size. Haven’t had gelato in a while? He’s ordering your favorite flavor.
- He’s not the most physically affectionate person, but he does make an effort on your special day. Usually, he starts off small, like with a warm hand on your back, but by the time evening comes around, he’s got an arm around you, encouraging you to rest your head on his shoulder.
- Dinner consists of eating take-out from your favorite restaurant while on the floor watching a movie. It might turn into a movie marathon (he has never seen Harry Potter!) or a marathon of a different kind...
-----
Boy do I love it when I plan to update and then don’t. I keep trying to be better about it, but it really seems like my brain can’t take a break.
Request: hello i was wondering if you would do a one shot about reader and bond being in some sort of relation whether it be relationship or lovers it doesn’t really matter but you know how when bond gets close to someone he leaves because trust issues but instead reader leaves james because she’s similar to him they eventually cross paths and james talks them into coming back and then they solidify there relationship sorry i know that’s long, does that make sense though?
I am so sorry for taking forever on this request. I hope this makes up for it? I also changed it so the pronouns are gender-neutral.
I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!
Warnings: talk of death, slight angst, kinda hurt/comfort, dialogue heavy
Masterlist:
“You left.”
“I did.”
“No one’s ever done that before.”
“No one’s left you before?”
“Not like that, no.”
“Not like what?” He doesn’t respond. “James, tell me. Not like what?”
“I usually leave first - either that or they die.”
“Did you think I was going to die?”
“I don’t know.”
“This is getting nowhere. I don’t have the energy to talk in circles.” He watches as you get up to leave, an uncomfortable feeling shoots through him. Panic?
“Wait -” Before he even fully realizes it, his hand is holding yours. preventing you from walking away. “I...”
“...Fine.” James decides he doesn’t want to know what about the expression on his face made you change your mind so quickly. You sit back down in front of him.
“You know me. You know my past and about them. But it’s more than that because I know you. I can’t tell you why I felt you were going to die just like how you can’t tell me why you thought the same of me.” He’s hit something. He knows it by the way your jaw clenched just slightly and how you pulled your shoulders back. “Tell me I’m right. Tell me what made you think I was in danger.”
“You know the answer as well as I do.”
“We can’t escape this life.”
“We were destined at birth to go out in a blaze of glory.”
“I don’t know about glory, but that’s the least I can really wish for, isn’t it?”
“And what’s the most?”
“You.”
“James...”
“You said it yourself, a blaze of glory. Who said we can’t go out together?” He knows that it’s very unlike him to say such a thing and the look on your face confirms that. But he decides that the look on your face is also worth it.
“Will there be fireworks?”
“Many.”
“And a parade afterwards?”
“Probably not.”
“Damn.”
“But there might be a speech on the telly and flowers on our graves.”
“How romantic.”
“I thought so.”
“I...” He watches as the amusement on your face drops. “I’m scared, James.” And in that moment, he’s in awe of you. After years of training to fight weakness and repressing emotions, here you are, eyes steadfast in holding his, as you bare the one thing you have been protecting close to your heart after so long.
He doesn’t deserve it and probably never will.
“I feel it too.”
“You do?”
Feelings are something he holds at arms length.
“Always.”
But despite everything he has never been one to be unsure of what he wants.
“How can you know?”
And right now, all he wants is you.
“I know because the more I want you by my side, the more I want to keep you as far away from me as possible.”
“Because you are always reminded of the before.”
“Or maybe I’m just afraid of the after.”
“You really do feel it.”
“Of course I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you.”
“...You love me?”
“With everything I have.”
“James...”
“You don’t have to say it back. I’ll be happy just knowing that you stayed.”
“I’ll stay forever, if you’ll have me.”
Too many pieces have fallen off of him over the years and he learned early on that nothing will ever fill the gaps, but in this moment, he feels the most put together he’s ever felt in a long time.
-----
I accidentally deleted a chunk out of this and it was painful. See y’all in the next one and I hope you enjoyed!
My friend, my dear, my love, if my speculations at will are correct, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle anything for a long time. So excuse me as I go reread the entire series for the fifth(?) time in preparation for what’s to come...
That being said, I am very excited to see how our wonderful protagonists run into the Avengers & Co. and how that’s going to work out. Somehow I don’t see Tony Stark mixing very well with Yondu. I can only imagine the nicknames Yondu would be assigned. I also think it would be really funny if Yondu just saw Bruce Banner and was like, ‘ah yes, this man is wuss, let’s make fun of him’ and then nearly shit his pants later on when he finds out about the Hulk.
I have a very strong feeling that Yondu is going to be the one dusted, but I can’t help but think of the absolute devastation that would come if it ended up being the baby.
Either way, I am so excited to see where this goes! <3
Two updates in one day? From little old me? Really? I know, I know, shocking. Just think of this as a little extra thank you for putting up with me and my horrid update schedule. Happy Valentine’s Day!
I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!
Warnings: the word ‘whore’ is used, death is talked about, mentions of violence and drug abuse
Masterlist:
Merle doesn’t consider himself a gentle person. In fact, he doesn’t think the word ‘gentle’ has ever been associated with a Dixon before. Nothing about his life was remotely gentle, especially now that the dead are roaming, but there was something about you that made him want to try.
There was a movie that he saw once - he can’t remember what because he was drunk - where a couple dances and the woman looked like she was floating, and even in his drunken state he could tell that the man’s grip on her waist could only be described as soft. No Dixon had ever been described as soft either.
Waxing poetic is one of the many things he’s never done and one of many things he’ll never do. It’s a waste of his time. So when he says that your touch alone rights his wrongs, it’s not too far from the truth. He doesn’t know what love is. Never felt it and never wanted to. However, he can’t help but think that the feeling of content he gets from simply being with you is something that he’ll never get again.
Merle does consider himself a violent person. It’s in his blood and a way of life - he learned from the best, after all. He was told that the trigger-finger-itch he inherited from his father would calm down in the army after he let out some anger on the enemy. He thinks it’s safe to say he left itchier than ever, but now he doesn’t know what he would do if you were to deny him of your hand.
Hands seem to be a recurring theme in his life. His father’s calloused palm leaving an imprint on his face. The cigarette that was always between the thin fingers of his mother. Finding his little brother’s knuckles bloody after school. Watching the fists of his superiors in the army clench and unclench. The hands of his plug, the bartender, the whores at the street corners... the deadly, broken nails of the dead.
And now, when he feels as though he could actually lend a hand to someone else for once, he looks down and remembers that the only hand he has left can barely hold himself up.
It’s a painful existence, really. Time has not healed many wounds for him and things never got better and, upon retrospect, the good times never outweighed the bad. He used to think that with death, he’d at least get some semblance of peace, but as he looks out past the gates, it looks as though the after will be just as miserable as the before.
“The sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Is it? I can’t tell.”
“Neither can I, but I think it’s supposed to be, right?” He watches as you open another can of beer. “I think with all the ugliness around us, we’ve forgotten what beautiful looks like. Maybe we should start teaching ourselves that again.”
“Were we ever taught in the first place?”
“No, I suppose not.” Your chuckle makes him smile. “I guess it’s high-time we realize we lost our humanity.”
“I don’t think I ever had mine.”
“You’ve never seen something beautiful before?”
“I dunno.” Merle sure as hell isn’t a gentle person or soft, and while he has read poetry, he certainly can’t write it, so he’s not sure what it is that he sees before him. “But I think I’m startin’ to remember.”
“You’re a strange man, Merle.”
“That I am.”
-----
The movie that Merle mentions near the beginning, in case anyone was curious, is actually The Bandwagon with Fred Astaire and Cyd Charisse, where they dance through a park at night. Though, it could really be any Fred Astaire movie...
I’ve been wanting to do a hanahaki disease fic for a while, so I’ve been working on this off and on as I try to muster up the energy to write out a few requests. This is also a bit short, so I apologize for that!
I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!
Warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of murder, angst
Masterlist:
One man was known to have had it for seven years before dying, the object of his affections leading him on for over half of that time. Another had realized his love a little too late, minutes before she had taken her last breath. They were buried next to each other. There was even a woman who had killed her lover after finding out he had been with others and then killed herself. Dried up, yellow carnations had been found in her lungs during the autopsy report.
None of this is to say that the hanahaki disease only ends in heartbreak and death, but those fairytale endings are rare. Even most doctors won't even see patients if they have it because the survival rate is so low.
It happened on Valentine’s Day and the irony was far from lost on you. In fact, if it wasn’t so damn painful, it might’ve actually been a little funny in a sick and twisted way.
You had been harboring a little spark of... attraction towards a man at work for some time now. For months, you had protected it and held it close to your heart, refusing to let anything snuff it out. But shielding a tiny flame from wind and rain for almost a year is tiring. In retrospect, it’s not surprising that you let desperation and wishful thinking and hope get the better of you as you walked by a little men’s boutique you had previously never looked twice at.
In the window you had spotted a gift that you were sure he would like. It was a set of simple, gold cufflinks with the letter B pressed in the center. The box that they came in was just as nice, a wine color with the boutique’s name written in a delicate silver cursive.
That night, you stared at that little box for hours, running every possible scenario through your mind - the bad outnumbering the good - until you felt sick to the stomach. The feeling stayed with you all night and through your commute to work, all the way up to the very moment you set the little box in his hand later that afternoon.
He had looked at you with a mix of confusion and something you couldn’t quite place, but had accepted it graciously. Later that night, you had gotten a text.
Thank you for the kind gift. - B
-
You don’t know what you were expecting the next day, but Cupid’s lesser known brother, Heartbreak, shot a deadly arrow right through your heart. It was all the more painful after receiving what you considered to be a rather cryptic message.
He didn’t wear the cufflinks.
Was it because he didn’t like it? Was the gesture too forward? Maybe you should’ve written more than just a simple, ‘thank you for your hard work’?
Maybe he just didn’t like you back.
It started with a feeling of sadness that seeped up from your toes, quickly followed by despair that froze your fingers, and then rejection gripped your throat and dug its long nails in.
You wait until you get home to start crying. Seconds after closing your front door, you found yourself breaking down. It as though your body had given up just as much as you had because before you knew it, you were gasping for breath on the floor. Even in the moment, you couldn’t figure out why it had affected you so much, but your brain was already in overdrive. All of your insecurities were pouring through and you became acutely aware of how Pandora’s box must have felt. The relief that came with the opportunity to finally let all your emotions out was dampened with knowing the damage was done.
And that is how you got to where you are now, gagging over the toilet bowl in a desperate attempt to get the last bits of flower from your throat. Even an idiot would know what was going on, but as an officer of the law you are intimately aware of what havoc the hanahaki disease could bring.
The moment the red carnation - even redder with your blood staining it - hit the palm of your hand, you knew what it meant and your tears had never tasted so bitter.
Summary: You are a high school teacher but things turn upside down when your best friend tells you there’s a detective pulling teachers aside to question them.
W/C: 1.8k
Warnings: mention of crime?, not much
A/N: FINALLY!!! My brain has allowed me to think of a Benoit fic! I hope you all like it and Thank you to @imabeautifulbutterfly for the title😊
- - -
“Why the hell is there a P.I. here?”
You whip your head up to look at your friend and colleague. The question took you by surprise as you organized a few papers.
“What do you mean? Since when do we need a private investigator at a high school?”
He shrugs as he leans against one of the desks in your classroom. It’s the lunch break so your friend, Raymond, has made his usual stop in your room. It’s not that you don’t leave your room at lunch, but you just like to relax in the quiet before venturing into the chaos of teens in the hallways.
“I heard, and you didn’t hear this from me, but there was apparently some sort of crime committed.”
You rolled your eyes. “That’s obvious,” you mutter as you turn back to the papers.
Raymond pretends that he didn’t hear you and continues, “Unfortunately I haven’t been able to figure out who is suspected and for what.”
You pushed out a light laugh as he slouched in disappointment. Raymond had always been big on gossip. He was always the one finding out which of your colleagues were secretly seeing each other, if any of them had any arguments. He was the one who found out any and all of the dirt going around between your colleagues. Even stuff outside of your personal workplace managed to find you due to him. It helped that his boyfriend, well fiancé now, had a knack for being apart of the drama. That meant that you heard things about people you were sure you’d never meet. Especially since many of those people work at a modelling company.
In response to your reaction, he rolled his eyes. “Come on. You’re not one bit interested in what’s going on? This P.I., or detective, as I’ve heard him introduce himself, has been pulling aside a lot of the staff here.”
That makes you pause. “All of them?” you ask, hoping the answer would be no. Because, if this detective is pulling all teachers aside, this must mean something more serious than you thought had happened. A something that you, you might add, are not one ounce educated about.
So, when Raymond slowly nods, crossing his arms across his chest, panic starts to fill you. It wasn’t as if you had done something, but the thought that something this serious happened in a setting such as this concerns you.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Raymond says quickly as he notices your pause, “I’m sure it’s nothing. I do have to say, though, this man is easy on the eyes.”
You chuckle. “You gonna try and flirt your way out of questioning?” you say teasingly, causing a laugh to pour out from your friend.
“Never know,” he started with a sly smirk, “it wouldn’t be hard to charm someone as good looking as him.”
Exaggeratedly gasping, you dramatically bring a hand over your heart as you say, “Oh, but you’re engaged to Sam!”
He rolls his eyes with a light chuckle as he stands. You smile a little, glad to have made the conversation a little lighter.
“Now, let’s get your ass out of this room. Maybe I can show you what I was talking about if we see him.”
-
You didn’t see whoever this detective was when you went on your walk with Raymond. Mind you, you weren’t necessarily surprised. It was lunch time. The kids were all out and, if he hadn’t decided to call it a day, would be most likely having his own lunch.
For you and Raymond, you made your way outside. It was almost like a ritual. Every day he’d come into your room, chat for a bit, then the two of you would do a few laps around the school as you both ate and talked. There was the odd time where you’d actually use the staff room to eat, but it wasn’t often.
Unlike Raymond, you didn’t enjoy a lot of drama. And the staff room at lunch was a hotbed for it. So, the two of you vacated outside to where a few students decided to take residence as well. If there was any drama there, it wouldn’t concern you in any way.
The only sign you had of the detective was the fact that there was a police cruiser parked out front. It made sense. If he were a P.I., a school would need an officer partnered with him. Specifically the liaison. Yet, if he were a proper detective, that could mean it’s his cruiser.
Well, you tried not to think about it much. You were on break at the time and it was much needed for your next class. It was going to be a topic that would raise many questions and make many opinions be heard. Well, if they took to it.
-
If anyone had told you that your most popular class would be genocide studies, you would’ve told them that they were insane. Genocide wasn’t something discussed in detail with high schoolers. Well, more like you thought that they’d never be interested.
Oh, how wrong you were.
So, as you let the students packed into your room talk, you write the topic in the board. As they notice what you are writing, a few groan while others quiet down in interest.
When you turn back, you already see a hand raised.
“Yes, Trevor?”
“What does a dress code have to do with genocides? We’ve been talking about how genocides usually happen due to religious differences and ethnicities, not because of what they wear.”
Genuine interest is laced into the boy’s tone. You know he isn’t the only one confused, but there’s more than one reason why you’re bringing this up.
You nod your head a little, leaning against the board that’s not written on.
“You have a point. Though, that’s not really what this is about. One question I’d like to ask: what did Nazi Germany make the Jewish, opposed politicians, those apart of the LGBTQ community, and so many more do to identify what they were?”
A few of your students lowered their heads as they knew what you meant. They were a smart group, empathetic. Which was a good thing considering the class.
You let the question hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “You see, it’s not necessarily clothing that causes a genocides start to oppression, but a certain dress code gets put in place once that target group is named. The holocaust? The Star of David for anyone Jewish. The LGBTQ? The pink triangle. If they were caught without it? Punishment.”
Pausing for a moment, you see a few nodding their heads. Some are looking at the ground, almost in shame. Others still look slightly confused while others are starting to piece together why this topic is being brought up.
“Now,” you begin again, stepping away from the board to walk through the rows of students, “although it isn’t dealt with in the same way as the holocaust, what happens when you break the dress code in the school?”
A few mutter the answer at the same time some just outright say it. “We get punished.”
Once again, you nod, stopping with your back to the always open door.
“Right. Though it’s not totally a punishment right away for you, but a warning to begin with, but it’s a way to help you somewhat understand.” A few nods. “And, what I would like to bring our attention to comes from a country that many of you wouldn’t think to have a genocide in their past, and least of all that they’re still having a problem with it.” A pause to see if anyone guesses it.
Instead of telling them, you go back to the whiteboard and write it down.
A nearly shocked gasp draws your attention to your students as one asks, “Canada?” with a disbelieving tone.
You nod. “You see, what I want to talk about is how it doesn’t matter how you dress that causes genocides to happen. Yes, maybe your specific religion or beliefs brings certain clothing along with it, but the way someone dresses is usually determined in the symbolization stage. When…”
The sudden sight at your door made you trail off in the middle of your lecture. A few confused students looked over as well, curious to what stopped the flow of information coming from you.
That reason was the principal, along with someone unfamiliar, who were standing just inside the threshold of your room. You didn’t know how long they had been there, and usually you’d continue on but you know what this is going to be about.
Not only that, but the unfamiliar man, dressed in a grey suit and tie that made his blue eyes stand out even across the room. His eyes, the ones that belonged to the man you assumed was who Raymond had been talking about earlier, were what caused you to pause.
Damn you Raymond.
“Hi,” you say as brightly as you can (and without trying to give away that you already know why they’re here), “are you needing me to step out for a moment?”
You ask it to the principal rather than the man at her side. Even still, the man is the one who answers.
“Please,” he said quickly, taking a step forward with a raised hand, “don’t let us interrupt.”
The southern accent takes you back a bit. Though you weren’t expecting it, it certainly suits him. It adds to the charm that the man just simply radiates. You find yourself wishing that you could hear it more, but quickly push it aside.
Before you could get too caught up with studying this man, cursing that Raymond was right, you turned back to your students. A few had mischievous glints to their eyes, some looking simply amused as they turn back to you. Overall, though, every single one of them sent a silent message that they caught onto something. A something you would of preferred to be the fact that you were about to be questioned by some sort of law enforcement and not the fact that you really do find him attractive.
It didn’t help when you saw the man’s own amusement making his eyes almost twinkle. There was something else, but you couldn’t quite place what it was.
A chuckle from a few of your students drew your attention away. Their teasing looks only increased as even more caught on.
I can’t tell you how much of a sucker I am for teacher aus! I also find it really interesting that the reader teaches a genocide studies class (especially since I took a forensics class back in high school).
...Maybe we can expect to see Benoit Blanc teach a bunch of high schoolers? I really look forward to what comes next! <3
Arrested Development - Benoit Blanc x Reader (Chpt. One)
Plot: After a drunken incident at a party, you are taken in for questioning. However, things are not as light hearted as they seem. The detective on the case? None other than Benoit Blanc.
[A/N: Hey again! Guess who’s back with another story! So this was fun to write, gave myself a short space of time to do it and because I don’t appreciate Blanc enough as openly as I should do. Hope you all enjoy this story! I have to say I love a sassy main character that matches Daniel’s characters. There will be a lot of typos, I’m aware but I did this to challenge myself and I think this went well?]
Twelve hours. That was how long you spent inside that godforsaken cell. If you had sobered up a little more, you were sure to be stressed given your current predicament. However, there was no chance for that for a while. You were still dazed, a mild hangover kicking in, all you wanted to do was go home. No one said a word about the incident in question. Hell, the only thing you noticed was that five people were taken into custody at the same time as you…and there was screaming. An awful lot of screaming. You stared at the dreary, grim walls before you, trying to find something to distract you. Anything. If you spent another five minutes listening to water leaking from one of the pipes across you, you were certain you were certain you would burst it as some form of entertainment. Knowing you, it was probably a drunk and disorderly arrest. A slap on the wrist and maybe you would have your fine paid in no time. Not that this was ideal for you.
It was at that moment you heard footsteps. Ones that sounded all too loud, rattling against your head. A police officer opened the hatch to your cell door and you moved forward a little too quickly for your liking.
“Stand back from the door, hands where I can see them.” Her hostility was heard through the other side. Slowly, you moved back with your hands in the air. This seemed odd. When one of your friends had described being arrested on drunk and disorderly conduct, they never mentioned the officers at work becoming so hostile.
“I am being released, aren’t I?” You tried to get a word out of the officer but they simply stood inside.
“Turn around with your hands behind your back.” Your eyebrows raised. There was something about this that seemed incredibly off. The officer stepped behind you and you could feel your wrists tightening, clicks of handcuffs. Yet you kept quiet, unable to register what you were about to walk into.
“Move.” The officer said.
“Hang on. Where am I going?” You finally snapped back.
“I said move.” The officer now said nudging you out of your cell. Okay, so this officer was clearly prick. But all you thought was once you were out of the station you would go home and get your hangover sorted with a nice hot vanilla latte….
Except that didn’t happen. You turned away from the exit, walking further into the station and towards an isolated room. That’s when you stopped walking in your tracks. Irritating the officer even more.
“Listen, I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me where I’m going and I don’t care if you want to trap me in another bloody room. I’m going home. ” Okay now you were starting to internally freak out. But externally, you held your ground, refusing to move. The officer glared at you.
Suddenly, another officer appeared. “Is there a problem here?” He asked.
“Looks like we have a stubborn one.” She responded.
That was when you were HOISTED by your arms. You tried to kick your way out of their grasp but damn the restraints, they ruined you.
“Get off me! I want to go home!” You protested but it was no use. Once you reached the door, the two officers carried you to your chair, leaving your hands tied to the leg of the table. The door slammed shut before you could get a word out. Lord, how you wanted to headbutt those smug officers. Slowly, you looked around the room and you recognised this from all the crime dramas you spent your evenings watching. You were in an interrogation room. But why?
After a while of panicking once again, being left alone with your thoughts (which innocently started off as a reminder to pick up your dog from the neighbours to suddenly, what you had done the night before to be left in the station overnight) the door slowly opened.
Two people entered the room, sitting across from you. A woman, brunette, mid 40s in a dark pan-suit that clung onto her slim figure. The man to follow closely behind was an older man, late 40s or even early 50s, with dirt blonde hair. He had a stubble, parts of it patched with grey but it grew to the perfect amount. Thick rimmed glasses and a vintage suit that hid beneath his dark brown overcoat. Unlike the woman, he bore no police badge or sign to show he was the police. If anything he was someone in the background. And you couldn’t lie to yourself, there was something about him that was alluring. The older gentleman with steel blue eyes gave you a ‘cool, silent, mysterious’ aura about him.
The lady dropped the file on the table, looking at you then down at the paper. You decided to play it cool, considering you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the handsome man and leaned back in your seat.
“Good Afternoon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N.”
“Nothing good about this afternoon.” You retorted. This caused the older man to lift the corner of his lip with a small smirk, while the lady did not look impressed.
“How’s the hangover?”
You didn’t say anything. Just scowled at her. God this woman was already getting on your nerves. She knew what you were playing at already. So with that, she turned to the tape and turned it on. A loud buzz filled the room.
“My name is Detective Inspector Rosie Turner. This gentleman over here is Detective Benoit Blanc. Here with us is Miss Y/N, Y/L/N. Can you please state your date of birth for the record please?”
“Isn’t it rude to ask for someone’s age?” Your eyes squinted, if you were going to be charged for drunk and disorderly conduct, you might as well have fun with it.
“For the tape, Miss Y/L/N is refusing to state her date of birth which is…” As she stated it, you couldn’t help but feel the man known as Benoit’s eyes bore into you. It felt intense. Why did it feel intense?
“Proves I’m a lot younger than you, I guess.” You snapped back.
“Immaturity levels are the best way to assume one’s age anyway.” Rosie quickly said, turning back to the file. “So Miss Y/L/N, do you know why you’re here?”
“School trip to the station? I don’t know. Have you got any paracetamol?”
“The answer is no and we will especially not be administering any drugs of any kind to you.” She answered.
“Well that’s just rude.”
“Miss Y/L/N, you were at the party held by one, Henry Wong last night?”
Okay, well now you were just confused.
“Yeah.”
“And what’s your relationship with Henry?”
If there was one thing you learned, you didn’t want to sound incriminating. There was only one answer to give… “No comment.”
“Did you have any form of relationship with one Mr William Parks?”
“No comment.”
Rosie’s eyebrows raised but you looked back at her with suspicion. What was she playing at? And so she leaned forward in her seat, rolling her eyes, knowing that you were going to be a problem for her. “Miss Y/L/N, are you aware that from this point onwards anything you say or do will be later used as evidence and relied on in court?”
Your lips kept sealed.
“William Parks was an accountant, around about five years older than you. Did incredibly well for himself in the business. His father Earl Parks owns a chain of gentleman’s clubs across the UK. William has been friends with Henry Wong back in their days at Glasgow University. Any of that ring a bell?” She got nothing from you.
The older gentleman across you seemed entertained by your presence. It was as though he tried to read you but kept up another certain interest. You hadn’t felt yourself being this analysed - close to being uncovered by a man’s eyes from a distance - ever. “Did you attend the party last night with Mr Parks?”
“No comment.” This time you had the courage to look over to him.
“Did you or did you not assault Mr Parks on the night of November 31st?”
“No comment.”
“This is serious.”
“Can I call my lawyer?” You bit back at her. God she was annoying.
That was when the older gentleman pulled Rosie aside, seeing her patience wear incredibly thin. “Do you mind leaving us alone for a couple of seconds? I want to try somethin.” He whispered quiet enough for you not to hear.
“This is a bad idea, Blanc. She’s a handful for us and we haven’t even gotten into the line of enquiry properly yet!”
“Just trust me on this. Alright?” He said, his smooth southern accent providing him with a bit of a silver tongue to ease the situation. And it did. Rosie’s shoulders loosened as she looked towards the door.
“You better sort this out or we’re doing things my way.”
“Scouts honour, Ma’am.” He said with a hand on his chest.
You couldn’t make out what was going on, but the annoying female detective had left the room…now you were alone with Benoit Blanc. The man who looked like he called a night of fun smoking cigars with a glass of scotch beside him and a book in hand - maybe even a western playing in the background. God, the irony. You were in handcuffs, this man stood above you and all you wanted him to do was take you on the table - no! No. You tried stopping yourself from having sinful thoughts about this poor man who was probably only hired as a supervisor to watch you misbehave. But whatever he did to ease his way into getting Rosie to leave, you were sure he could use such a skilled tongue on y- nope! You had to shake out of your thoughts…no matter how close he was. Even with the way he watched your every move.
What you hadn’t noticed though was this dashing sleuth had a southern touch to him and god he was hot…until he opened his mouth.
“So, Miss Y/L/N.”
“Oh my god. That accent.” Your eyes widen.
“It takes a while to grow on people. My mama always said like honey, once you get a little taste you can’t get enough of it.” He had a point. His baritone voice really soothed you…just why did it have to be THAT accent?
“I didn’t do anything.” You slowly managed to mutter. “And you should tell your stuck up colleague to do one. I’m not talking to here.”
“Alright, little lady.” He took off his jacket slowly, and you were able to see more of HIM. His well tailored suit, his immaculate build. And then he crouched before you. It caused your breath to hitch for a moment. “I understand being in a cell with a hangover sounding like everything we do is blowin up a storm but I’m trying to help you out here. I need you to comply with me so we can make things easier - for the both of us.”
Oh. Good cop, bad cop. Typical crime drama convention. “Excuse me? Don’t patronise me with your redneck, lawn shooting, sweet home Alabama bullshit. Can I just go home now?”
Benoit chuckles. His laugh radiates the room, unsettling you - especially with a voice as deep as his.
“Most women would say I’ve got quite the soft touch with the tongue too.”
“Yeah it actually sounds horrific.” No it didn’t. “I can’t take you seriously.” Oh how you really did take him seriously though.
He leaned forward, looking into your eyes. A silence between you lingered. You were able to trace the lines of his perfect stubble with your eyes, the small wrinkles across his forehead. You still somehow felt that intensity. A burning desire for him inside you. Then he got up, walking casually back over to his seat, as though nothing happened. You managed to let go the breath you didn’t even realise you were holding.
“Do you know what you’re being charged with?” He finally said.
“Drunk and disorderly conduct.”
He shakes his head. “Miss Y/L/N, it would appear you engaged in the most inexplicable foul play. You’re being charged with murder. That accountant William Parks is dead and by god, this has your paws written all over it.”
And just like that…your world came crashing down…
That is a cliffhanger if I ever saw one! I love the internal dialogue (and conflict!) you have going here. You also completely nailed the way that Benoit talks!
Also - “Thick rimmed glasses and a vintage suit that hid beneath his dark brown overcoat.” - glasses-wearing Benoit is my favorite Benoit <3
@allegra-writes @infinity-hoe-dark (I’ll even tag your other page of goodness) @infinity-hoe @adventures-with-ana @stardancerluv @dragon-baron @creme-bruhlee @slothspaghettiwrites I feel like I’m forgetting folks but all of you kill me with amazing writing !
This is where I put my own spin on popular AUs and tropes and assign them to characters! I did this with Daniel Craig, so now its time for Michael Rooker!
I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!
Masterlist:
Yondu Udonta: fake marriage
“I have to what-now?”
“It’s pretend, dad! Ever heard of such a thing?”
“I don’t need yer lip, boy! I ain’t gonna get married fer a few thousand units!”
“How about a few hundred thousand, hubby?” Yondu whips around to face me, clearly not having heard me come in.
“Not even a few hundred thou - what in the hell did you jus’ call me?”
“According to this forged certificate - thank you, Rocket - we’re married.”
“Why you? Why me?!” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the look on Yondu’s face was akin to panic.
“I’d do it, but I’m already with Gamora, and Kraglin -”
“Kraglin!?”
“And Kraglin can’t do it because he’s helping Drax man the ship. You were the next best thing next to Rocket.”
“I am Groot!”
“And Groot,”
“Stars above, boy, you ain’t never hearin’ the end of this.” Giving you a scathing look, the man brushed passed you to go who-knows-where and sulk.
Merle Dixon: wild west
“So ya ran away, huh?”
“No, I -”
“Sounds ta me like ya ran away.”
“And what would you know about running away?”
“Believe me, sugar.” He leans into my space with a crooked smile. “I know more about runnin’ than you can imagine.”
“Wait -!” I gasp, realization dawning on me quickly. “Are you a - a - what’s the word - a crook?”
“A crook?” His smile turns into a look of exaggerated offense. “Why that’s not a very nice thing for someone as fancy as you to say.”
“Well, you certainly don’t look like a cowboy.”
“An’ the hell’s a cowboy look like to you?”
“For one, he has a hat.”
“Maybe I left it somewhere.”
“So you forgot it?”
“No wonder yer lost - you enjoy walkin’ ‘round circles too damn much.”
“I thought I had run away?”
Clyde Dutton: magic
"An’ you’re sure these ain’t messed up with somethin’?”
“Yes - I know the dealer from way back.”
“I know plenty of folks from Way Back too. Don’t mean I trust ‘em.”
“Well you can trust this guy.” I tap my fingers on the desk. “Besides, have I ever done you wrong?”
“You don’t want me to answer that question.”
“Yeah, yeah, you sourpuss.”
“Your customer service leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Hey! It’s my charming personality that keeps bringing people back!” Flashing him a grin, I quickly take stock of his purchase. “...Some of these charms are pretty heavy duty, Dutton. What are you chasing - a wyvern?”
“Yup.” The comment was meant to be a joke, but the finality of his tone quickly sobered me up.
“Are you crazy? The last time you -”
“- tried to chase one down, I nearly got myself killed.” He sighs. “I know. But what happened was that I made a mistake and I don’t plan on doin’ it again.”
“And you’re sure this will be enough?”
“What - you tryna rip me off?”
“No, you ass, I’m trying to make sure you get out okay.”
“It’s plenty. Trust me.”
“If you say so - I gotta make sure my favorite customer comes back, don’t I?”
-----
I hope you all enjoyed this! I have about three requests in the works - three of which are on James Bond. I’ll see y’all in the next one!
aw bubs 😭 you made this the most amazing year ever and i love you so much!! <3
@msluciasolo (i only met you this year which is weird to think about but you've made me the happiest person ever) @nenyx (love you wifey <33) @azrielsblade @katherinespetrova @magic-is-beauty @jxmesfarrow @our-insentient-touches @shadowhuntingdemigod @lqdyofroses @xunxunny @mendesxruel @kenscissorhands @potteringdeers @carolinesalvawhore love ya'll sooooo much <33
@euphoricsequoia @bobbiemorse-my-queen @songofpatrochilless @buckystarlight @chaserofstarsandtheabyss @magpiencrow @guzaarysh @indubitably-eternally-confused @ilovemarvelanne1 @mrs-brekker15 @crumpled-up-pieceof-paper @ramuneray @genyyasafin (heyyyy), @⚓ anon, you're amazing i hope you see this, and @ all of my mutuals y'all are the best
@mr-brekker15 @sirisuorionblack @kitty0621 @gemma-collins-ily @im-constantly-fangirling @kurogue-nine @scandalous-chaos @ilovemarvelanne1 @epaige0914 @faheyslantsov @thereagles and so so many more💞💞
@strwrs @jang-han-seo @bente-gifs @space-helen @sibbismullet @uncle-kenobi @katierosefun @lozalot @nahoney22 @vanilla-chip-101 @sergeant-hunter and many more <3
@hellishgoat @acehardys @mymycorrhizae @spicyvampire @visual-explorxtion @code-verxnica @fantasyproductions @pentowrite-wingstofly @sergeant-hunter @mandoposting and just honestly so so many of you! Whether we talk or just interacting through posts you guys really brightened my year a lot!
Aw thank you so much, Schafer @sergeant-hunter – you've been such a lovely part of my experience here on Tumblr over the past year, too 😘
@nottonyharrison, @countessofbiscuit, @thisistheendtimes, @hikime, @obihoekenobi, @queenevac, @maulpunk, @purgetroopercody, @skywalker-tano-kenobi, @bluedaddysgirl – and so many others whose names I can't recall off the top of my head (more will probably come to me just as I'm about to fall asleep), thank you all so much for just being here with me ❤️
@ct-1994 You've made my Tumblr experience this past year truly amazing. You've encouraged me and inspired me so much. If there's anything I can ever do for you please let me know! 🖤🖤
@photogirl894 @tech-deck @scarlettroseog @cloneforceenby @bandanaboy , everyone I've met from the Chaos discord server and every one of the lovely people that like almost every post I make. You've all made my time here just the best. Love all y'all! 🖤🖤
Deathy, my sweet love, you've been one of the absolute highlights of my year!! 🥰🥰
@moonstrider9904 , @darthzero22 , @tech-deck , @scarlettroseog , @samspenandsword , @bad-batch-supremacy , @nimata-beroya , @fantasyproductions , @wompratslair , @oneshot-one-kill , @nahoney22 , @ladydiomede , @the-sad-batch , @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s , @robustmyaft , @bandanaboy , @echos-right-arm , @captainmrsbridger , @loth-wolffe , @theoneandonlyslick , @skyyguy , @mistyfur5 , @mrskenobi677 , @monako-jinn-stories and SO many others on both Tumblr and Discord!! You all are so amazing and I love you all with all my heart!! 💜💜
Request: hi! i love your writing <3 may i request benoit blanc scenario\hc in which the reader is in love with him but they haven't the courage to confess, and watch blanc filtrs with others? if u don't feel comfortable is ok <3 have nice day\nice new year
This is so incredibly late and I apologize for that, but I hope you had a good new year! Also, full disclosure, I have no idea if the police hire secretaries or not.
I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!
Masterlist:
- The man is as oblivious as he is adorable - and is as adorable as he is full of southern charm. And how can you fault him for that? How can you get frustrated at someone for just being overly polite?
- Very easily, apparently.
- You’ve liked Benoit Blanc for a very long time now - long enough that any sane human would’ve confessed by this point. But you can’t.
- In simple terms, the man is way too good for you. In complicated terms, there’s no way a gentleman like himself would ever look twice in your direction for anything more than a cup of coffee.
- You work at the local police department as a secretary. You’re the one who has everyone’s Starbuck’s orders memorized and can fix the printer and calls officers when their shifts change unexpectedly. You’re also the one that helps Benoit Blanc spend the time waiting for whatever documents he needs to procure or for the officer he needs to finish up so they can leave.
- So the more you conversed with the man, the more you fell in love.
- The downside, however, is that you also have to watch as he interacts with all sorts of people - some of whom are just as enamored with him as you are. The older lady with her lost dog hanging off his arm (and onto every word), the intern laughing at each joke, and the widower asking if he’d be willing to grab lunch sometime...
- Even if you did bring up the courage to say something, it would be so incredibly unprofessional of you. The risk of getting fired is high and you value your job too much to take that risk.
- But it’s alright if the man never knows. You’re happy spending the little time you get with him just as is, knowing that you helped him out in someway.
Bonus:
- Sometimes he feels like he takes advantage of your kindness by coming up with excuses to see you every chance he gets.
- He’s in his fifties and getting tired with every day that passes, but you make him feel young again.
- But he knows his place. There’s not much an old man like him can offer you, so he won’t step out of bounds. No, seeing your bright smile is more than enough for him.
-----
I’ve been in a little Cary Grant phase lately and I’ve been watching he’s earlier movies. So far I’ve seen Sylvia Scarlett, I Was a Male War Bride, and The Philadelphia Story. If any of you are interested in Old Hollywood, let me know! I might do some headcanons for Cary Grant characters... Feel free to leave a comment! I love hearing from you guys!
Request: Hi! I love your writing so much and I don’t think there are enough Benoit Blanc or Joe Bang fics, so could I request either a Benoit or Joe fluff/smut fic please? Thank you! @binanas
So I was a teensy-bit inspired a little by the opening scene of Pulp Fiction where the couple have these ridiculous names for each other. I thought it was kinda cute and wanted to do something similar with Joe Bang. I also didn’t make this into a smut fic, because it just didn’t write itself that way. I hope that that’s okay.
I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!
Warnings: tomfoolery, tickling
Masterlist:
“Oh my god. Oh my god. This can’t be happening.”
“Would you shut up and help me count?”
“Yes - sorry, just oh my god.” I start stacking piles as quickly as I can. Joe is sitting down, separating and organizing the ones and the fives and the tens and the twenties.
There are so many fifties.
“I feel like it’s that Georgia job all over.”
“Yeah, but there ain’t no Denny to screw us over.” Joe puts aside another couple of tens. “At least, there better not be.” His smile gives himself away.
“Logan’s ain’t lucky enough to be snitches. Ah-! Found a hundred!” I can’t help but wiggle a little in excitement as I put the crisp dollar in its pile.
It took the both of us over an hour to organize all the different bills into separate piles and just as long to count. We recounted three times to really make sure that we weren’t dreaming.
We weren’t.
Joe started to giggle, then full on belly-laugh. It’s infectious. When I go to stand up and join him where’s he’s standing, he wraps me in his arms and spins me around. I cling on to him, burying my face into his neck.
“I feel like I’m dreaming, honeybear!” I sigh, pulling away. There’s a giddy smile on his face.
“Where do you wanna go first?”
“Hawaii!”
Miami Beach!”
“The Mediterranean!”
“Vegas, baby!”
“Paris!”
“Paris? Why in the high hell would you wanna go to Paris?” The look on Joe’s face is one of confusion and minor disgust.
“Why would you wanna go to Vegas?”
“Gambling, darlin’!” Now he’s looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“So you wanna loose everything we got in a casino?”
“No, no, no, baby - horses.”
“Are you bein’ serious?”
“It’s a full circle. We steal the money from the horse races, we spend the money at the horse races, and maybe somebody will steal that money and spend that at the -”
“I love you honeybear, but that’s the silliest idea you’ve ever come up with.”
“It’s better than Paris.”
“Is it?” I raise a brow. “Europe’s gotta be better, by far.”
“You sure, honeybee?” And suddenly there are fingers digging into my sides. I yelp.
“Yes!” This evil, evil man. “St-stop it!” Backing away from him as best I can, I end up bumping into the table. “Ow!” Joe pauses, and the flash of concern on his face makes me feel slightly guilt as I dive for his ribs.
“Hey!” The look of shock on his face is so worth it, though. “You cheated! No cheatin’!” I do it again. “Try that one more time - hey!” With one last poke, I make a mad dash across the room. I barely make it to the couch before I feel his arms wrap around me. “Got’cha!”
“No!” I can barely form words, I’m laughing so hard.
“What was that?” My attempts at batting his hands away end up fruitless because I find myself writhing on the couch within seconds anyway. “Please tickle me more?” Joe is now giggling manically.
“I’m gonna bite you!” I grab for his hand, but he pulls away at the last second. Luckily for me, the momentum with which he pulled away ends up toppling him off of the couch with a thud. I scramble to get on top of him, forcing him on the ground and on his stomach.
“If you don’t get off’a me, I’mma start kickin’...”
“Say Paris is better.”
“What?”
“Say Paris is better.”
“No way!”
“Say it or else I’m not gonna get off of you.”
“It’s gotta be Vegas! I ain’t backin’ down!”
“You sure?” He shakes his head. “Your loss!” I singsong, attacking the sensitive area just below his armpits. He squeaks. “Say it!”
“No!” He struggles to buck me off, going so far as to roll on top of me.
“Hey-! No fair!” He flips over so his arms cage me in.
“No fair? I’ll teach ya no fair!” Gripping my jaw, he presses his lips to my cheek and blows a raspberry on it.
“Ew! God - Joe!” I struggle between wiping my face and trying to push him off of me. “Fine! How about this? We do both?”
“You know,” He sat up and counted his fingers. “I think we could do that.” Suddenly, there’s a mischievous glint in his eye. “...If we go to Vegas first.”
“Nuh-uh. It was my idea and I say we go to Paris first.”
“Are you sure?” He wiggles his fingers threateningly.
“Yes.”
“Really, really sure?” The fingers get closer.
“...Yes.”
“Oh?” He attacks and my whole body spasms in laughter. “How about now?”
“Fine! Fine!” I bat his hands away. “Vegas first!”
“Was that so hard?”
“You cheated.”
“Aw, but you love me, sugar plum!”
“...Yeah, I do, boo boo bear.”
-----
I feel like the end is a bit weird, but I hope you all enjoyed nonetheless! I can’t believe that this is my first Joe Bang oneshot! It’s so overdue!
There’s a new Situation and because of this Situation I can’t even tag anyone to spread the word. I was recently informed that as of about 18 hrs ago at this point (Jan 1st, 1pm EST) NO NEW POSTS are showing up in ANY tag search on ANY browser/app. I’ve checked this to confirm.
Myself and many others have noticed that posts have been taking a very long time to show up in tags these past fews days (my last post took about 5 hrs). Yesterday around 2pm EST staff reported they were aware of the issue and were working on a fix. This new development appears to have started around 7pm EST, which leads me to believe it’s a result of the “fix” that’s currently in progress. Unfortunately this has made the already bad situation impossibly worse in the meantime.
I have no idea how long this will be an issue but you may want to hold off on posting any new content until it’s sorted out.
gummygunk
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kaledo-art
germansingergirl
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
ellievsbear
prguitarman
turnnoffyourmind
