#benoit x reader

request: Can you do one where the reader is stabbed(for real) and Blanc loses is shit. You can decide if the reader lives or not. Thank you 😊 and I love posts @0chemicalwaste0

Trigger Warnings: stabbing, blood, mentions of death, language

Assigned on a case along with your fellow partner, Detective Benoit Blanc, you had pushed assigned a missing person’s case to assist the local detective. With Massachusetts police staff currently occupied among multiple cases you had been called up as a last resort, unbeknownst to anybody that Benoit Blanc would be joining along as well.

You were directly involved with Massachusetts State Police under a signed contract. Unlike Benoit, you were not a private detective but rather an investigator in the police force who occasionally took on a case themselves.

It was unlikely you would ever be paired with Benoit on a case, but the Thrombey’s case had not been the first time you both had worked together. Over many years you’ve grown a familiarity with one another, both through work and privately. You even deemed yourselves, partners, when put together.

The two do you were known as a double threat by locals, and it had been purely by coincidence that this was another one of your connected assignments. You could not say that you were disappointed however because that was certainly not the case.

At the moment you were stood beside Benoit’s seat as he explained to Marta everything that he had solved- with your help. Ransom was brought in by Lieutenant Elliot and seated in a nearby chair as Benoit began to continue with his monologue.

Ransom was fed up with Benoit’s words rather quickly, shouting at him to shut up. He was angry, and he was quick to claim that you all were lying, saying that there is no proof of anything he had been accused of. He was certain that if anything was wrong with his lawyer he’d be faced with nothing more than a few days, or even just a fine.

However, things had taken a turn very quickly and the next few minutes flashed before your eyes before you could even process it. Marta’s phone had gone off and a call from the hospital rang through. She answered it, thanking the nurse on the other end for the good news before hanging up and putting her phone away. Ransom had grinned, exclaiming that he had not committed murder.

Yet, Marta had vomited on an unsuspecting Ransom who had just been recorded confessing the attempted, and actual murder of Fran. The angered man had turned to you in disbelief, his glare piercing a hole into your skin.

“If you hadn’t been assigned to this damn case I could have gone away scotch free,” he gritted out, though you had reasons to disagree. Benoit was smart enough on his own.

You shook your head, glancing at Benoit. “I would beg to differ,” you replied.

Ransom groaned, wiping his face from the vomit that remained. “Oh who cares what you think!” he exclaimed before grabbing a knife off the wheel behind him and launching himself at you.

You were quick to place your hands up, wanting to push him away before he could stab you, but you tripped and landed on your back, screaming as the sharp blade pierced through your skin. Another scream was torn from you as the bastard twisted the knife ever so slightly before he was ripped off of you and thrown to the ground, a pair of handcuffs shacked to his hands within seconds.

Benoit rushed over to you, Marta doing the same before he removed his handkerchief and folded it in two. He glanced up at Marta, signaling for her to pull the knife out. She did so in the next second, causing you to flinch in pain and hold back a blood-curdling scream.

The detective was quick to apply pressure onto the stab wound. “Dial for an ambulance quick,” he nodded to Marta, watching as she stood and farted for her phone across the room. He returned his gaze to you, holding the handkerchief down as firmly as he could. “If the knife pierced your lungs, which I suspect it has, you have a couple of hours before it can lead to death, but you must stay with me,” he explained urgently.

His shockingly icy blue eyes never left yours as he did his best to keep you as conscious as possible. He could slowly see you slipping in and out and his heart rate was slowly increasing in his chest with worry. The sirens could be heard in the far distance and he begged that they would get there faster.

You were slowly losing that battle to stay awake, and shaking lay brought up a bloodied hand- which had led on your chest -to Benoit’s arm. He looked at you, biting his lip as a sort of anxious habit.

You smiled at him as best you could. “Listen, I won’t be conscious for much longer, you can’t panic. As you said, I’ll still have a few more hours, even if I’m not awake. You need to know, in case they c-can’t save me, that you’ve been a great friend to me,” you choked out, coughing in the next moment. The smallest bit of blood left your lips.

“Shit, come on Y/N, don’t say that! You can’t just say that, not now! Tell me that when you’re healed and better, come on,” he urged, looking at Marta as she led the paramedics into the room. “I love you dearly, Y/N, I need to tell you that,” he whispered before he was asked to step back and let the paramedics take over.

You smiled at him as best you could, and within seconds you were receiving oxygen through a mask, and slowly the loud sounds around you faded. You didn’t know if Benoit’s last words were meant to be taken in a friendly or romantic way, but you hoped to be able to ask him when you woke up.

— JOURANLISM: benoit blanc x reader

Author’s Note: I got permission from @daft-not-punk to change this into a oneshot!

Trigger Warnings: mention of illness, murder, cases

It had been a sort of cat and mouse chase for months at this point. He’s was always so clever and sneaky, just out of your grasp whenever you went to go speak with him. It was his way of telling you that if you wanted to interview him you’d better work for it. He was amused by your attempts, and you couldn’t lie, you did have fun trying to chase after him only to see him slip around the corner and disappear in the next moment.

It was fun for you because each and every time you got more and more determined to catch him until you finally did. You grinned victoriously as you stared dead-on, catching his startling blue eyes for longer than just a few seconds.

“I think it’s about time we went to share a meal and have a talk, Detective Blanc,” you stated proudly, a look of pure passion burning in your eyes.

He smiled. “You took longer than you did last time we had one of meeting, Y/N. You’re getting slow,” he challenged.

You scoffed and shook your head. “Now now, don’t get cocky, I did just recover from an illness. I’ve passed my prime at this point,” you replied, walking closer to him.

He offered you his arm, leading you to the restaurant across the street. “Now don’t sell yourself short Y/N, you’re still youthful,” he teased, grinning slyly.

You laughed, accepting his arm. “You say that as if you aren’t Blanc,” you smiled and thanked him as he held the door for you.

Blanc winked at you, stepping into the restaurant behind you before stepping up to the host table and informing the hostess that the party only consisted of two. The hostess nodded and lead you to a table near the corner of the restaurant.

“Here you are detective, ma’am,” they nodded before placing the menu’s down and walking away.

You looked up at Blanc before picking up the menu. “You’re well known now, aren’t you?” you asked playfully, looking over the options.

“I suppose so, with the news and all that surrounds me. Not to mention whatever is on social media,” he said, glancing towards you over the menu. You hummed amusingly, smiling at him for a moment before returning your attention to the menu yet again.

Blanc places his down, folding his hands and placing his elbows on the table as he leaned forward, looking at you curiously. He wouldn’t admit it but he missed these meetings. They didn’t happen often since you tended to only write a short article about one of his recent cases and be finished with it, but steadily over time, your visits became more frequent til recently.

When the detective heard you had gotten ill, a nasty flu that lasted at least two weeks, he was adamant about sending you gifts- albeit anonymously -to your door. Flowers, chocolates, even cards which he used a fountain pen for just to make it a little more mysterious. Or dare he say romantic.

He’d been clueless to his feelings towards you, something which he’s never felt before. Feelings of romantic, and even emotional, attraction. When he’d done the research to figure out what it was that he was experiencing he was doubtful of the results. They all spoke about love and infatuation with a person and it didn’t make sense to him. He didn’t except it, until now.

He was finding it harder and harder to ignore it and was steadily accepting that he was in fact interested in you in more than just friendly terms, but he’d rather lie than admit that to you. Blanc was so certain that his feelings weren’t returned, and he’d be devastated if that friendship you had were to be broken because of his personal feelings.

“Benoit!” you exclaimed softly, trying your best not to gain other’s attention. The detective blinked before shaking his head a little and looking at you, his eyes slightly wide.

“Oh, I apologize, I just spaced out there,” he explained, furrowing his brow and looking up as your waiter approached to take your orders. He missed the blush that covered your cheeks due to the fact he was staring at you so intently.

When the waitress walked away after writing down the orders, bowing their head slightly before leaving, Blanc turned to you. “So, what’s this new article you’re writing that involves me?” he asked, smiling at you politely.

You made a sound of realization and took out your notebook and pen, placing it beside you so you could start to write things. “Well, to make up for lost time since my absence the publishers want me to do a much longer article, and I need your help,” you explained.

He hummed. “Well, what’s the article about?” he questioned, removing his coat to get more comfortable.

You cleared your throat. “I’ve been asked to write a true-crime series, almost like a story but I have a page limit. It can only take up ten pages of the news article. The article doesn’t directly involve you, but since your my detective friend I thought you’d come in handy,” you shrugged sheepishly. Benoit smiled. “I have three weeks to write it but I was hoping that over the next two weeks we could meet up semi-regularly before I start. I’m going to need some ideas and I’ll need help understanding certain things, but with your help, I have a feeling I’m going to have a lot of fun with this!” you spoke excitedly, a gleam in your e/c eyes that made Benoit’s heart melt a little.

“You’re lucky that I’ve yet to accept another case,” he responded teasingly, giving you a genuine smile when he saw your smile bright up as you realized he agreed.

You were about to speak again when your drinks arrived and you took a sip at it leisurely, deciding it was best to save your excitement for when you’re by yourself. The next few minutes were spent in comfortable silence as you began to write some things down and Benoit cleaned off his glasses from whatever dust and smudges the lenses gained.

It seemed that within a blink dinner was over and the pleasant conversation you were having was slowly coming to an end. You both simultaneously stood up after Benoit paid for the bill- which you chided him for saying, “I asked you for so much the least I could do was pay” -and threw on your coats, walking towards the exit together.

Benoit’s cans subconsciously glided to the center of your back, leading you across the street carefully. Neither of you could say you were surprised that some reporters still remained at the crime scene that Benoit just finished at- which had happened to be a bank. You were certain that news articles would blow off on your phone in the morning about some rumors that would start about you and the detective, but right now you didn’t mind.

It was time for you to enter your car, waving a Benoit with a smile as you got onto the driver’s seat and buckled in. He waved back, watching as you drove off before he got into his own car, ignoring any reporters that came up to him.

It seemed that the meeting you both shared had ended just as quickly as your dinner had because already two weeks had passed within a flash. Once again you were stood outside in another parking lot at a different restaurant, one which luckily hadn’t been surrounded by reporters.

Benoit was saying goodbye, walking off towards his car when on impulse you called out his name. ‘Well, I can’t back down now,’ you said to yourself.

He turned to you, tilting his head. “Yes?” he questioned, his smooth southern drawl dripping from his tongue.

“I- well -ugh okay, here goes nothing. Would you be apposed to coming over some time? Oh, by coming over I mean to my house...” you paused, “for a, uh, a date?” you questioned in a soft whisper, trying to stop the shaking of your hands by playing with them behind your back.

Benoit stood there, shocked as he looked at you with wide eyes. His ice-blue eyes stood out in the lamplight in the dark, cold New England night. He saw you fiddling and quickly replied before he made you more nervous. “I’d love to darling,” he said, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

A relieved breath left your lips and you smiled, walking over to him, and with a shy smile and red blush, leaned up and kissed his cheek. You stood back down on the heel of your shoes and smiled brightly at him. “You have my number, text me when you’re free,” you said before turning back and walking- nearly skipping over -to your car.

Benoit stood there in surprise for a moment, the lingering feeling of your lips still on his cheek. He got his own light pink blush before he was able to recollect himself and enter his car, a grin on his face. He chuckled to himself, ‘I guess those rumors that the reporters came up with may just become a reality,’ he thought to himself.

tw. mentions of unwanted advancements

— BENOIT BLANC JEALOUSY HEADCANONS:

It was no help that he had hired you as his assistant long before your relationship formed, but that also meant he was never allowed to show his affection towards you in the public eye. It went against the employee/employer code, because even though he was his own private investigator he had made a contract with the police years ago.

It was a shame that he couldn’t hold your hand or waist, it was an even bigger shame when he had to watch as boys- because those who disrespected a woman’s wishes were not true men -try and advance on you. He was proud how headstrong you were whenever you said no, and none of the boys had yet to push you after that.

That was until he became involved with the Thrombey family. The grandson of the deceased had no problem with advancing onto you. Ransom was used to ladies throwing themselves onto him, but you would do no such thing.

Ransom, instead, took it into this own hands and did the opposite, this time throwing himself onto you. His advances lasted no more than ten seconds before a swift punch met his jawline and he was pulled off you.

Ransom was shocked to see the detective hovering over him as he stood from the ground, glaring and gritting his teeth, but was stopped before he could say anything.

“I suggest you leave before another case is presented before this one is even finished.”

It was an indirect threat, but no action to go through with it was put in place since Ransom obliged and left the two of you to stand in the room alone, thankfully.

“Thank you, Ben.”

It was a small whisper but it got the message, and Benoit was quick to pull you into a hug and hold you tightly, making sure you were alright.

“I’d do this even if we weren’t together, but since we are I’m allowed to say that I won’t let anybody touch my girl.”

You grinned at him and smiled, kissing his cheek. You knew he was jealous from the moment he saw Ransom try and speak with you, but he hadn’t expected it to get so far. He was thankful that his jealousy had nagged at him to keep a close eye on him.

“You’re cute when your mad, but you’re even cuter when your jealous.”

— CUDDLING WITH BENOIT BLANC HEADCANONS:

Benoit is not a super affectionate person, but that’s not to say he isn’t opposed to intimate affection, he’s just likely not going to initiate it most of the time.

He never denies you when you do want to be affectionate however, truly he does love cuddling. He’ll gladly sit on the couch, or lie down in the bed and wait for you to join him.

If you’re on the couch and watching a movie or film you’ll typically be rested against his chest as his arms wrap around your waist and his chin is either resting on your hair or shoulder.

If he’s reading to you- because you always ask him to be the one to read just so you can hear his beautiful accent -than you’d likely have your head in his lap and occasionally share an adoring gaze to which he will smile at you in a way which melts your heart.

If you’re cuddling in bed, especially before bed, expect him to be the big spoon. His arms will be around your waist, one of his hands resting on your stomach and his thumb rubbing along your skin as he kisses your shoulder, neck, or hair until you fall asleep.

When you wake up you’re typically cuddled up to his chest while he lies on his back. Your head will be buried in his neck, and as the early riser that Benoit is, he’ll always wake up and run a hand along your spine or stroke your hair.

After a couple hours he’ll eventually wake you up, whispering your name in your ear and gently kissing the skin under your earlobe.

He’s a gentlemen, and quite reserved, so don’t expect him to cuddle or hug you much, if at all, in public. That’s not to say he won’t have a hold on you, but he certainly won’t be as affectionate as he is at home.

However, Benoit is the softest man you’ll ever meet when you do cuddle. His hands are gentle wherever he decides to trail to, your back, arms, or stomach, and he’ll have the softest bed voice.

— BENOIT BLANC COMFORTING YOU WHILE YOU ARE CRYING:

You were adopted into the Thrombey family, and although papers were never signed to confirm that was true, you truly felt like Harlan was a father figure to you, even if he was old enough to be your grandfather.

You were the daughter of one of his publishers, and a great admirer of his work. After your introduction Harlan had decided it was right to hire you as a sort of assistant. Different from his son in a way, who mainly only helped the company, you helped Harlan. With his plots, his thoughts, and even his style.

The family was shocked to see that Harlan has invited you to his birthday, but Marta- who was like a sister to you -was not so surprised.

When the news of his death came through the following morning you were heartbroken. The thought of Harlan having committed suicide made no sense to you. You knew the man, you considered yourself his friend, and you just knew that suicide had to be wrong.

When Benoit Blanc was assigned the case, and you were asked to go to Harlan’s home to be questioned, you were almost thankful, because that meant that perhaps you were right. That perhaps it wasn’t a suicide.

You were questioned much later in the day, after the Thrombey’s and Marta had spoken with the detective and local policeman.

You were questioned solely by Benoit himself, the policeman wanting to clear some things up with the fellow family members, and after Benoit assured them that your questioning would be rather short- seeing as you had left nearly an hour before the party had ended -the policeman agreed.

When you stepped inside the room in which Benoit was sitting in a chair comfortably, you frowned. That was the chair Harlan would sit in when you spent time in the knife room, as he liked to call it.

Once the questioning had begun you had already began to feel the lump that formed in your throat, and the uncried tears that welled in your eyes.

Benoit noticed too and tsked softly before standing and handing you a handkerchief, giving you as gentle of a smile as he could.

“You and Marta seem to be the only ones affected by Harlan’s death, albeit the others seem sad as well, but none as much as you both.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle bitterly at Benoit’s words, of course they wouldn’t be as sad as the both of you. They never cared for Harlan, not as much as the both of you did.

The chuckle was cut off by a sob and Benoit frowned before pulling you into a hug, bending his knees and allowing you to sob into his shoulder for a few short minutes.

He already eliminated you as a suspect- though he told nobody -and he knew you and Marta had to come along with him during his investigation. He knew you both just had good hearts.

an. I still have a Benoit Blanc x Reader oneshot I have to get done but it’s angst and I want to make sure I execute it well enough, so in the meantime enjoy this!

— SOFT BENOIT BLANC WITH HIS S/O:

Benoit is typically soft with anybody he deems tolerable, but in his own, unique way. He’s more likely to show a sense of protectiveness than he typically would.

In this case, he had just been assigned a week off after the Thrombey case and he was able to go back home and enjoy a full nights rest. He had already determined that he had to make up lost time to you.

He started by stopping at a floral shop to buy your favorite flowers before he drove home- or at least to the place you rented for the time being. When he arrived he made sure to look as presentable as possible.

He hadn’t been able to see you as much as he’d like since the case started, because it seemed by the time he woke up and fell asleep you were already out like a light. It was always way too early or way too late for you to even attempt to stay up that late, or wake up that early.

The most you’d do is shuffle when he got in or out of bed, and the occasional mumble.

However, he was able to return home at a decent time that night. He had made a short visit to the police station to settle things before he was finally free to go.

It was a surprise to you when a knock came at the door, because not only did it seem to early for Benoit to be home, but he had a key. It was even more of a surprise when you actually saw him, standing with his hands holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a tender smile adoring his features.

You blinked a few times in shock before registering everything in your mind and exclaiming, “Benoit!” before you took the flowers from his hands and kissed his cheek.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction, pleases he had caught you off guard, before he rested an arm around your waist and led you farther into the hall while closing the door with his foot.

“Yes, hello darling, how’ve you been? Bored I’d assume, but no worries, the case has been solved and I’ve got at least a week off before I accept another case. So, what shall we do?”

He was not surprised when you replied, in a meek almost shy voice, that you wanted to cuddle while watching a movie. He had been gone for a while and even if he wasn’t the most affectionate person you missed his touch and he too missed holding you.

With the rest of the night settled, he put on a movie before pulling you towards his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder, kissing it softly before watching the movie.

— TAKING CARE OF BENOIT WHEN HE’S SICK:

It was rare for Benoit to get so sick that he had to have you take care of him, not because he didn’t want you to care for him, but because he usually just dealt with whatever it was himself, especially if he had a case.

Unfortunately for him, this could not just be taken care of by himself. He had a nasty flu, and although he had gone two days trying to suck it up, by the third day he could barely get out of bed. His arms and legs were sore and every movement he made caused him to groan.

You had decided that night you were going to sleep in the couch for a while until he got better, so you had slipped out of bed the third time you heard him sniffle and moved your blanket to the couch.

You were up bright and early with a light breakfast for him, some orange juice and yogurt, something that wouldn’t be too hard for him to digest. It had some of his favorite fruits mixed into it, and you even put a bread roll on the side if he felt up to eating it.

As you made your way up to bring it to him you weren’t surprised to see him still asleep, normally, however, you would be.

Gently you woke him up, informing him that it was nearly ten and that he had to eat before it got to late. You placed the tray on his lap and brushed a few strands of his hair, which seemed to be drenched in sweat, from his face.

You squeezed his arm before making your way downstairs to the medicine cabinet to get some medicine, as well as a damp towel for him to use.

The rest of the day, and the remaineder of the time he was sick, you spent reading to him while sitting in a distant chair, and occasionally watching a show together when he got the strength to come downstairs.