#blackKklansman au
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need to make an action comedy buddy detective byler au
#like the nice guys#or bullet train#or hot fuzz or blackkklansman#i love these types of movies soo much#theyre sooo very byler potention#let them be silly and covered in blood#byler#byler au
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Fifth AU-Gust fic is up. Hope you all like it
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humid
roughly 4k words, originally posted on my A3O account. a late summer memoir; NSFW. reblogs, comments, suggestions and all kinds of support are more than welcome ✨
[whispers] y’all should really play Hozier’s “Work song” or “NFWMB” for this one 🖤
It’s been a tough couple weeks. Well, months. And it’s especially hard cause you’re living together, you’re married and yet you’re passing each other by. Not willingly for goodness sake, but you’ve been barely finding time for each other lately and it’s killing you. He’s not dealing great with it either, but he keeps the facade to avoid worrying you more. He’s learnt that at work obviously. The same work that has been keeping him away from you for so long.
You’re not better though. Everything has changed after you finally got your degree. The studying was hell, you were mostly tired and overworked. But Flip? He was by your side through highs and lows and was always super supportive. If not for him you probably wouldn’t have done it at all.
But after that you were met with another bunch of obstacles. Cause despite your earnest efforts, finding a decent job in the Colorado Springs area was a rather difficult task.
You went through successive stages of education but it never meant that someone would be willing to give you a chance. And again Flip was the most supportive husband - he would drive you to your interviews insisting that it’s „no big deal” and that he won’t be late for work, cause the work will wait for him anyway. You found his presence by your side in those moments extremely comforting. As you were driving around town he would reach out for your hand to hold it and place a kiss at the back of it. Such a simple gesture but for you it meant more than words. You knew that it was an affirmation, it was him reminding you that you’re strong, that you’re capable and that no matter what happens he’ll be there. For you and with you.
And you simply couldn’t help but glance at him lovingly as he was entirely focused on the road, making sure you get there safe and on time.
And finally, after many unsuccessful attempts, you got the job. It wasn’t a job of your dreams, but it was good for a start. You were earning enough to support your household budget and to take some of the worries off Flip’s shoulders. It was the independence you’ve been seeking, but it also meant that you’d have to get used to your lives continuously not coinciding.
You didn’t even realize when 6-hour shifts have turned into 10 hours. And then those 10 hours turned into a lot of paperwork you’d do during the weekends. But that’s okay, you thought, Flip was also busy at the station or going on missions so you couldn’t really be mad at yourself for doing all this extra work, right? And it was also pretty rewarding cause soon enough you got promoted and had even more complicated tasks to execute. It also came with bigger money, but all of a sudden you realized that you don’t even have the time to go and spend it on something.
Soon enough it dawned to you how little time together with Flip you were actually getting and the thought itself made you feel sick. Cause if you were to count all the moments you two had for each other during the week, it would have to be all the hours asleep and alarming amount of rushed goodbyes and kisses as you pass each other by in the hallway of your home.
Passing each other by - that’s what you were actually doing and it was driving you insane. But what could you do, you were trapped between the current project and all the upcoming ones. You were trapped between Flip’s and your own work schedule. Separated by the obligations that lay with your shoulders.
„That’s wonderful, I’m so proud of you!” His voice is heavy with exhaustion but you can sense that he’s smiling as you’re talking on the phone.
The manager position was more than you could’ve dreamed of, especially after such a long time in your current job, but the offer was so generous and unexpected that it took you a moment to process it. But first, you needed to call Flip. Partially because you wanted to know his opinion but also just so you could hear his voice.
„Well I have yet to agree but yeah I’m pretty excited.” You smile to yourself. „I mean, it’s a big step and I’ll have to get used to the new workplace but yeah…”
„You’ll do great baby. You’ll handle it like a fighter, I’m sure of it.” He’s really so proud of you and no distance could ever hide it. You can practically see his eyes shining with pride. „I love you.”
You sigh sadly.
„I love you too baby.”
„… and miss you.” He adds in a hushed tone.
„I know, I do too, you have no idea how much.” Suddenly you feel glad that you got to talk now, during your break with none of your coworkers around. It’s not like you’re ashamed or anything but you just don’t want people gossiping about the state of your marriage or you in general. It’s your moment, one out of very few you get to spend with your husband, even if it’s on the phone. And you’re just sad, your voice almost breaks as you’re speaking. „I know it’s probably just all the work and stress but I think I’m going crazy sometimes.”
„That bad?” He chuckles and you roll your eyes but you know he’s only teasing. „I know baby, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. All this paperwork from the last case got us locked up here for days. Even Ron had enough of it and left earlier today. Promised he’ll be back tomorrow morning but I wouldn’t bet my money on it.”
You nod mindlessly. Gnawing on your bottom lip you decide to take your shot.
„How much of it do you guys have left?”
„The case data? Uhh, for at least a day or two I think. Why?” You smirk but keep your voice on the same note.
„I might be wrong but I remember that chief once mentioned that you still have that overdue leave?”
He pauses for a moment, most likely trying to recall that conversation but soon enough he’s back on the line.
„Yeah I think there was something. I’ll ask him again but I believe there was a week or two.”
„Okay so, uhm, how about you get the paperwork done and we both take some time off? Just you and me, no work, no phonecalls, no distractions.” At this point you can barely hide the excitement in your voice and you don’t even care. This may be your last chance so you just hope he agrees.
„God yes, that’d be perfect!” He smiles widely and you can’t help but smile too. „What about your new job though?”
„I’ll handle that, don’t worry.”
„That’s my girl.” The smile he has at that moment will stay with him for the rest of the day, he has no doubt about it.
Time flies when you’ve got loads of work and things to look forward to. Those days flied by like a rocket and there you are, all giddy and excited as you walk towards your home. You decided to buy some groceries on the way and grab your order of italian takeaway from that restaurant you used to visit quite often when you were still only dating. Despite the tiredness and the overwhelming heat of the day you try to keep your mood uplift, the thought of well deserved time off with your husband is making all the work worth it. Cause he is worth, and you know that both of you deserve this more than ever.
The late-summer sun is setting low over the city and the woods and you stop in your tracks to catch that last glimpse of golden light. Who would’ve thought that one day you’d miss small things like this - slowly walking home, admiring the view. But you promise yourself to care more from now on. It’s a brand new chapter of your life and you decide not to waste a single moment that’s worth remembering. And you want to remember this, remember this day.
You set your purchase on the kitchen counter and drop your bag on the couch. Flip did not set the hour precisely but you guessed that he’ll be late, the usual.
After you put the food in the fridge - you specifically ordered pasta to be semi-raw so you could reheat it at home when the right time comes - you grab the bottle of leftover wine that you intentionally didn’t finish the last time. Now that you’ve got a couple days off it won’t matter if it’s not the weekend yet, you’re starting yours early. Besides, it should help you relax a bit, loosen tense muscles. And that icy liquid just feels so right as it reaches your tongue, perfect for a hot evening like this one. With a glass in one hand you step out on the porch but the air is still way too heavy with heat and you return inside.
After yet another sip you set the glass on the table and choose to change into something more comfortable. Ideally something thin, cause even back inside the air was pretty humid. Barefoot, you step inside your wardrobe and the coolness of it makes you close your eyes in bliss. The summers here were great, you loved the sun and the nature flourishing, but if you could trade one thing it would have to be the heat, especially during the night.
By the time you come into your bedroom you don’t even know what time it is, you’re too drowsy to care. Maybe you’d just wait in here, lay on these silky sheets you just recently bought for the summertime sleeps. You’ll keep one eye open in case if he comes back soon. You won’t fall asleep no way. No way…
Jolting awake you notice that the light is turned off, the whole room is dark and aired but still pretty humid as if someone left the window open. And it’s almost completely silent, except for the steady breathing beside you. There’s warmth spreading over your waist where his arm rests protectively and you smile. Once your vision accommodates to the darkness you see his sprawled out form, so pale in the night shades of your bedroom. He even got rid of the tank top he’s normally wearing to bed and you assume he must have felt just as hot as you.
You also realize that you must have fallen asleep before he even came back, cause you can’t seem to remember anything after changing your clothes in the wardrobe.
His embrace feels better than anything else in the world and you wish you could’ve stayed like that forever but your throat feels so dry that you decide to gently slip out. It’s no surprise that you still feel dizzy as you stand up, suddenly remembering the alcohol and the fatigue of workday. As quietly and carefully as possible you sneak out of the bed and then out of the bedroom, leaving Flip alone underneath the sheets.
One glass of water isn’t enough so you pour yourself another one. It’s been hours since dusk yet the air feels so heavy and hot as if during the day. Your skin feels sticky, like it’s covered in some sort of sweet syrup.
„You minx.”
His raspy voice coming from behind startles you at first, but his hands swiftly sneak around your waist before you get a word out. And you don’t even mind the warmth radiating off his body onto your back, engulfing you as he closes the distance between you both, that closeness is almost relieving. You haven’t been this close in a very long time.
„I thought you were asleep.” You say softly as you reach out to caress his face and he nuzzles his cheek into the crease between your shoulder and neck, kissing along your tense muscles.
„Can’t sleep without you. I need to know where you are.” He mumbles and you smile.
It’s true, even when away on a mission or an investigation - he always calls. He knows when you’ll be back from work and wants to make sure you got home safe. That’s the protective side of his that you’ve learnt to adore, even if one could consider it an annoying trait.
With his vast work experience, the things he’s seen over the years but also the love he had for you from the very first day, he couldn’t just simply overlook your safety. You were that one string keeping him grounded and sane thorough all the madness in his life, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself if he’d lost you. It was almost like a ritual at this point. Him calling you from the station before you head for bed, sometimes you calling him at the hotel when you know his workday on a mission is over. Not only does it calm both of you down, it’s also a chance to have that much needed time to talk about ordinary things.
„I’m sorry I fell asleep on you. I had some wine, I don’t even remember when I passed out…”
„It’s okay. You work so hard, you deserve some rest.” His voice is soothing in your ears, almost as soothing as his soft lips traveling up along your pulse point. „And I was tired too.”
„Was? Past tense?” You whisper chuckling and his grasp on you tightens, he’s pulling you in even closer almost inhaling you whole. His hands run up your sides, gently cupping your breasts before they retreat, then climb up again, this time underneath your shirt. Ever so slowly, teasingly his fingertips dance over your skin, over your slowly hardening nipples. And despite his bodily warmth it still sends shiver down your back.
He whispers but it feels like a thunder echoing along your neck.
„You already know.”
Your bodies move in unison as you turn around to face him. His face glows of late summer sweat in the dim light and it only accentuates his rough features, from cheekbones to jaw. He gives you a few seconds, enough to get a good look at his shadow-toned figure - arms, thighs, collarbones, stomach and that strong chest - at your Flip, before he pulls you in once again. This time his hands are even greedier, his movements are more desperate. But you’re right there to reciprocate, bringing your own needy hands to his dark, sweat-tangled locks. And when his lips finally meet with yours it’s like breathing. It’s natural, it feels necessary. It’s like magic but better, cause there’s nothing realer than this.
„I missed you. So so much. I missed this.” He whispers in between kisses hastily. His voice is hushed but deep, like in a tantric prayer. Like a spell.
„Flip.” You call out quietly, a whisper echoing in the darkness. He hoists you up, you watch his arms flex in the corner of your eyes, hands clutching on your thighs for dear life as he places you ever so gently on the counter. Safe yet so close to the edge.
His movements are sensually slow, so different from the way you’ve remembered him. With lips parted you let him kiss away the tension from your shoulders, arms, neck, wrists…
„Let me.” He half asks half states as he sinks low on his knees. Your eyelids grow heavy with each touch of his plump, warm lips on your ankles, calves, below your knees, along your thighs. „My love, my queen.”
You don’t remember him him like this and you’re hypnotized. He’s like a drug flowing through your veins, heating you from underneath the skin. Like he’s controlling your whole body, its motions, you.
„Baby please.” You’re begging. Flip likes that, a lot.
„Say it again.” It’s the depth of his voice, the booming of it that wakes you up from this trance you’ve been stuck in. And he’s looking at you with those cinnamon-spiced honey eyes of his. The eyes that are now locked with your own hazy gaze.
He kisses your ankle without even looking away and it’s like fire burning you from underneath and that icy breath tingling on your skin.
„Please.” A whine.
„Again.”
„Please…”
It comes out nearly a whimper, but he’s relentless, his face stoical like a cliff. Proud, patient, waiting.
He’s tempting you, testing you as if it is the devil himself kneeling beneath your feet. Encouragingly grazing his fangs along the luscious skin of your thighs. Awaiting your surrender. Your submission.
„Say it like you mean it.”
Your heart is shaking in anticipation. It feels so wrong and yet you give in.
„Phillip, please. I need you.”
And he bites in, sucks in, leaves blooming marks like petals scattered around a bouquet of fresh wild peonies.
He devours you entirely, completely. Trembling, you’re losing control, in fact you’re giving it away, right into his eager hands, lips, hungry eyes.
By the time his mouth reaches your clit you’re already blissed out, encouraging him with the motion of your hips, quietly gasping, begging for air, begging for more. Begging for no air at all.
It’s like you’re breaking apart, your body and mind conflicted yet something, someone, keeps them tied together, seals them with each caress. Your nerves are tingling but at the same time are so numb, like he’s crawled inside you, slick as a snake. He’s controlling you, the rhythm of your breathing, of your heart.
And your heart feels like a volcano, hot and ready to explode from your heaving chest.
„Y-yes, there, please.”
Your slick and his spit are one. Your inhales are synchronized with his lips. Perfect harmony, only it’s not quiet, it’s loud on his tongue, loud as the gasps leaving your mouth and even louder in your brain.
With your vision clouded you gaze down and that’s when it hits you.
Your limbs involuntarily shake, wave after wave crashing over you and within seconds you can barely breathe. Your mind is filled with light, like sun setting over beach, the sounds of ocean rustling. You’re divided, both here and out there, not even sure which one is which cause all of these sensations feel so real.
There’s this immense hot heaviness climbing up your torso. It covers your ribs, moves swiftly over your cleavage, rests below your breast, on your heart. His hand reaching out to touch you even more. So gentle and loving yet so delightfully demanding.
„Yours.” You whisper even though he doesn’t question it verbally. It’s in the air and you just repeat it like echo, like a mantra.
Fingers dig into the counter, seeking support. He knows you’re almost there, he can feel it through your uncontrolled trembling, your spasming cunt. And so he catches you, holds you grounded, holds your thighs firmly apart with his strong hands. Somehow it doesn’t even matter that it’s the middle of a hot night, it doesn’t matter where did your underwear go, if the sun is about to hit your faces within the next few minutes, cause all you care about is him. And you keep chanting his name with that haunting promise.
„Yours Flip, yours. Yours.”
If only you could see these honey eyes as they drown in the sound of your voice, the eyes that can’t speak but still reflect his love for you - selfless, filled with adoration and respect. In his eyes you’re a statue, carved and perfected thorough the years, and now he’s bringing it to life.
Your body goes tense one more time, from head to toes, from the crown of your head and along your spine. He slows down, he wants it to last, he wants to feast on you for the rest of his days and even more, but he needs you to be fed.
And gods, he’s feeding you with everything he has, with the twirls of his tongue, with his own spit sticking to your sweat covered body, the tiny bites and that gloriously filthy loud sucking.
It’s your arms that give in first and you lean back on the counter covered in sweaty bliss. His hands that kept your your thighs apart loosen the pressure, though you’re fairly sure of the bruising that will come out of it. The beauty of pleasure and pain.
Slowly he pushes himself up from his knees. And- fuck, he’s so in love with you he would propose to you the very next day if only that didn’t already belong to the past.
That’s when your eyes open. You catch him staring but he’s staring at you the way no other person ever did. Not like a prize, a plaything, no, he’s fucking mesmerized. All he sees is a goddess and the look in his eyes, his face says it all. It’s that tiny smirk on his stupid-beautiful face that cracks your heart open. You wonder how dare he tongue-fuck you into oblivion just to be so puppy looking seconds later. It’s like he’s testing you again.
„I fucking love you, y’know that right.”
„Phillip Zimmerman, how dare you. I should be the one saying that right now.” You chuckle but soon enough he gently grabs you, sitting you upright, his arms wrap around your waist yet again, eyes glossy with love. You’re speechless cause it feels like falling in love for the first time, this moment, him holding you close like this. You know this, you two have been like this in the past but you thought you’ve lost it somewhere along the way. Life can be rough, can be painful and sometimes just utterly normal, boring even. But here you are, gazing at each other longingly, maybe more in love than ever before because it’s no puppy love anymore, it’s a full-grown one.
His eyes follow the lines he draws with his fingers along your cheekbone, cheek, jaw before stopping at your chin. And he stares. Stares into your eyes.
He’s thinking how perfect you are, your face carved with determination, struggles but also beauty, and this immense love. He’s thinking how fortune must have helped his blind senses in catching you. And how he never wants to let you go.
He’s so lost in thought and so you take over finishing the sentence he meant to make. You seal the confession with your own lips, deepening it, making the words mean something beyond their definition.
With your eyes closed your hands glide over his face. You feel the softness of his skin, but also each of the tiny scars, the moles, the small imperfections that make Flip the person you know. Your person.
Your lips detach and you already miss their fullness, you miss the way they belong together.
„I meant that, you vixen.” He exclaims half-teasingly, but you know he’s sincere. You know him well enough to recognize it, so you just smile.
„I know. And I do love you too, so much. I really missed us.” As you speak he cups your face yet again but allows you to continue, not wanting to interrupt your thoughts. You were always better with words than him. „And I’m so proud of us, super-proud of you. How you grew over the years, how you’ve gotten better at everything you were already great at. And, like, grateful. For everything you do, for being so supportive and for being there for me an-”
„You better cut this sugary bullshit or you’ll make me so soft ’m not gonna be able to fuck you later.”
„Cutting it right now!” You pretty much cry it out and he chuckles flashing that full-blown smile of his, the one that’s reserved only for you.
„Good girl.” He says and you half-expect him to run off with you to the bedroom, but instead he kisses your forehead and pulls your arms over his shoulders. „But first, sleep.”
„What? No, no nonono. Babe, Flip, no, put me down. I can’t leave you hanging like this, let me-”
„No. Sleep. We need some more sleep first. Besides - I caught that small yawn you did 5 minutes ago, and you tried to freakin’ hide it from me so you’re not getting away with this one.”
„B-but…”
„I promise, we’ll catch up after a nap. Look, we woke up in the middle of the night and now it’s almost dawn.”
His words make your head spin in direction of window and you can’t believe he’s right as the first beams of sunlight hit your eyes. And of course you yawn on the spot, cause he’s really just has all the points.
So you just nuzzle your head in the crook of his marble neck as he carefully hoists you up. You stay there, wrapped in his love through the finishing moments of night, and through couple more hours as both of your bodies rest covered in silky sheets, with limbs tangled together, breathing steady. Even when the air gets humid again covering your bodies with another layer of sweat, you don’t mind. You’re no longer against the heat, not if it’s the heat he covers you with, not if it’s the heat of you together.
#flip zimmerman x reader#flip zimmerman#detective zimmerman#flip zimmerman fanfic#flip zimmerman smut#blackkklansman fic#blackkklansman au#blackkklansman fanfic#my fics#full fic#phillip zimmerman
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The Crusade / Chapter 1
For me, it’s a job. For you, it’s a crusade. Isn’t that what Flip had told Ron nearly a year ago? And now, here he is, his entire world turned on it’s head, smack dab in the middle of a crusade of his own.
A post-BlackKklansman fic in which Flip’s next major assignment is to infiltrate and uncover the inner workings of mob crime that’s moved into the Colorado Springs Area. He’d been ready for the drugs and the danger. What he hadn’t been ready for was you. This can also be found on AO3.
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Mention of drug use
Template credit: cashwmere
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“A whole year, can you believe it?” Ron plops down into his chair, the very same one he’d sat in when he’d first arrived to the Intelligence Unit of the Colorado Springs Police Department.
“Woah, slow down there, Rookie,” says Flip, lining up another impending shot of balled up paper. He flicks his wrist, sending the paper flying to sink dead center of the nearby trash can. “Swish!” He turns in his seat to face Ron to circle back to the topic at hand. “You still got another, oh,” he purses his lips, checking his watch as if he’s truly trying to do the math, “how long we still got, Jimmy?”
Jimmy partially rises up from his seat, finger pointing as he calls out to Ron from across the room. “Another two weeks yet!”
“That’s right,” Flip says, enunciating each word slowly, pointing his own finger at Ron now. “Another two weeks to go.”
Ron scoffs, eyes rolling at their own accord as he utters ‘close enough’ in response to Jimmy and Flip, who are both chuckling to themselves at their respective desks. In two weeks it’ll have been one full year since they’d wrapped up their investigation into the cluster of the Klan’s members in the Colorado Springs area. Ever since then, the department had been pretty quiet, save for the usual petty criminals that filtered in and out of the station in near perfect rotation.
“Zimmerman.” Sergeant Trapp’s voice booms out into the room, calling for Flip who’s turning in his chair to face the direction from which the voice had originated. “Get your ass in my office. Ten minutes. Got somethin’ to discuss with you.”
That, of course, sets Jimmy and Ron off, the two of them behaving like children who’s friend’s just been called to the principal’s office. Their response causes Flip to wave them off carelessly with a wave of his hand. “Alright, alright,” he says to the two men with an annoyed tone. “I fucking get it, calm down.”
They’re still laughing, of course, by the time that Flip pushes himself up and out of his chair, the metal groaning beneath his hands when he does so. The soles of the cowboy boots that he wears scuff off the floor as he takes long, slow strides away from his desk and over to Sergeant Trapp’s office, his hand reaching for the doorknob to twist it and push the door open. The blinds on the other side of the door sway and knock against the window with the motion, causing Trapp’s head to lift from a file that’s open on his desk, contents spread out on the open space.
“Take a seat,” he says, waving with a hand towards the two chairs in front of his desk.
Flip does as he’s told, shutting the door behind him before making the quick walk across the room to pull the chair away from the desk just enough to allow him to step in front and take a seat. A soft breath of air is expelled through Flip’s nose as his eyes fall to the open folder on Trapp’s desk. “What’s this,” he asks curiously, though he’s fully aware it’s another case for him. “Another drug bust?”
“Not quite.” Trapp steeples his hands atop the photos and paperwork that are scattered over the open folder and across his desk. “Zimmerman, you ever heard’a the Smaldone family?”
Flip’s shoulders roll into a shrug, his head shaking when he responds. “No. Can’t say as I have.” He’s never been much of the type to go out of his way to read the news. There’s too much bad shit in the world, shit that he’s already dealing with firsthand at work. The last thing he needs to be is reminded of that when he’s on his days off or at home after a long shift.
“They’re a crime family, a big one. Doin’ everything under the sun you can think of. Racketeering, drugs, gamblin’, loansharking, extortion.” He’s counting off each bullet point with his fingers while he speaks. “The list really just goes on and fuckin’ on,” he says, huffing out a humorless laugh. “Got a ring runnin’ from Pueblo to Denver. Now this didn’t affect us much here until recently. You remember those guys that got picked up off East Platte Avenue couple months back?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I remember.” Flip nods, a finger tapping against his knee while he reclines back against the seat. “Biggest heroine bust we’ve had in a long fuckin’ while.” Hard to forget something like that, he thinks to himself, eyes still on the Sergeant.
“That’s the one,” Trapp replies, a finger pointing in Flip’s direction. “Well,” he starts, hand slamming down onto the file, turning some of the photos around to face Flip, sliding them towards him for a better look, “turns out they’ve been runnin’ the drugs for the Smaldones. Guess Denver and Pueblo’s just not enough. They’re branchin’ out here now.”
Flip leans in to get a better look at the photos, eyeing up the black and white scene of two men striding towards the front door of a restaurant, one that Flip recognizes as being a Colorado Springs establishment. “So, what, this is where you think the operation’s being run out of?” His gaze lifts to Trapp who’s head is nodding, glad to know that Flip’s pickin’ up what he’s layin’ down.
“It is. And I need you to infiltrate it.”
That statement alone has Flip’s brows raising skyward. He’s silent for a moment, just staring at Trapp, waiting for him to tell him that this is some sort of joke. But when nothing but silence follows, Flip exhales a heavy sigh and leans back into his chair, hand waving animatedly while he talks. “Let me get this straight. You want me to infiltrate the fucking mafia on my own?”
Trapp shakes his head, his own hand waving as if to emphasize his point. “No. No, you won’t be working alone. We’ll be working in tandem with the FBI.”
“Christ, the FBI?” He can’t help it. He truly cannot help himself. But Flip’s laughing now, his head shaking in disbelief. “Bunch of fucking credit stealing motherfuckers.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, kid.” While Trapp speaks, he gathers up the folder’s contents and puts them back into an organized, neat pile. “But a job’s a job and this here’s a big one. Go home, get some rest. Tomorrow you’ll have a debriefing with the feds and we can finally get this ball rolling.”
Pushing himself up out of the chair, Flip turns without so much as a goodbye, exiting the Sergeant’s office to grab his things and call it an early day.
“What’d you do, get fired,” Jimmy quips, the question eliciting a snicker of amusement from Ron and a roll of the eyes from Flip.
“Yeah, played one too many games of trash can basketball with you idiots,” Flip deadpans. “I’ll see you two tomorrow, try not to light anything on fire while I’m gone.”
And with that, Flip makes his exit, leaving the station to head to his truck. Getting mixed up with the Klan last year was dangerous enough, now he’s got to contend with the likes of the Mafia? Colorado Springs is growing far too big too fast for his liking.
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Tagging my fellow Flip loving friends!
@gurl-ly, @klauscarolove, @morby, @candycanes19, @thatgirl1782, @ellelaconiwrites, @duty-isnt-always-honour
If you’d like to be added to the tag list, give me a shout!
#Flip Zimmerman#Flip#Phillip Zimmerman#Flip Zimmerman x Reader#Flip x Reader#Phillip Zimmerman x Reader#BlackKklansman#Post BlackKklansman#Flip Zimmerman Fanfiction#Flip Zimmerman x Reader Fanfiction#BlackKklansman Fanfiction#Post BlackKklansman Fanfiction#Mob AU#BlackKklansman AU#tw violence#graphic depictions of violence#tw drug use#mention of drug use#drug use#violence
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I was Made for Lovin’ You
Characters: Flip Zimmerman/Reader
Warnings: NSFW // CW, smoking/alcohol use
https://archiveofourown.org/works/36281074/chapters/90447211
Twitter account: @benlightsabe_au
You walk into a pub late at night and meet a mysterious, charismatic, stranger tempting you to be nau“Lady Marmalade” playing by Ruby Brothers in the background when you pull the heavy sticky door of the pub open, wind blowing your hair in that chilly Colorado Springs night and let it close behind you. After a quick scan, the pub is half empty at this late hour in the night you decide to sit on the bar stool. It had been a long day. Your friend had pressed you to go to a house party with you. But she left you alone to go home with another guy. Instead of going back home, you decided to come to a bar and continue drinking.
Sitting on the stool, you point at the bartender. “Gin and tonic please” running your hand through your hair that has become sticky with the constant smoke and alcohol all night.
When you look around, you notice two men sitting on your left side on the stools. The one next to you is tall with black hair, wearing a light brown jacket, jeans, boots, and his legs seem to go on forever. Very tall. You think. You smile and notice he’s drinking Coors beer. You start sipping gin and tonic to avoid losing your mellow vibes. The other guy seems to be talking more animated and then says his farewells and leaves the bar.
“Daddy Cool” by Boney M. starts playing. You smile as it is one of your favorites.
You decide to smoke a cigarette, you put one between your lips and start scrambling for the light in your small bag. Then, suddenly the man next to you lights it. “Here” says with his low gruff voice. You look up with a smirk and let him light it for you. Then, you give him the box offering him one. He smiles and takes one, lights it up, and you both huff the smoke out. He has a nice beard, large hands, and is kind of handsome? Your heart flutters.
“Thank you” you smile. “So, How are you?” you lean in.
“Good” he says and points at the bartender for another round of beer. “Do you want another round?” he asks, pointing at your gin.
“Sure” you let him pay for your drink.
“What would a girl like you do….” looks at his watch “in a pub at almost 12AM” laughs.
“Believe it or not, I was at this horrible house party, everyone was drinking and my friend left me to go fuck a guy” you laugh sipping your second gin and tonic. He laughs while drinking his beer from the bottle.
“Oh too bad. Where are you going after this?” he asks. You take a moment, smirking, not sure what that means.
A moment of awkward silence between you two.
“Home? Unless there is a better offer” against your better judgment. Your inhibitions are lowered. It’s late at night, and this man is beautiful and mysterious. You watch his movements. He has a sexy voice, charismatic and dark.
You look at each other through the smoke and smell of alcohol. He smiles for a brief moment and your heart skips a beat. Is this normal? No, no, I am just drunk. You cross your legs, letting one exposed through your long skirt. Suddenly your clothes start feeling tighter, warm, hot, when you look at his legs, he turns towards you, opening them. You are wearing a shirt, long skirt, and a jacket with platform shoes, your hair down your shoulders.
“Oh I am all ears for an offer” he smiles.
You are hot, very hot. You convince yourself it’s the alcohol. Looking at his plush lips wanting to kiss them so badly.
“Bathroom?” you point with your finger. He nodds shaking his head in agreement and huffs out the last of his smoke without breaking your gaze.
You walk to the bathroom, stumbling a little, not believing what you are doing with a complete stranger in a remote pub in this late hour at night. You close the door, put your hands at the edge of the sink and breathe. Your cheeks are flushed. Would he come? What would I say to him? Do I know his name? He doesn’t know mine. Thoughts cross your head but it’s too late because he opens the door, filling the small area with his presence, closes and locks it behind.
Your back is to the sink, looking up at him. You can smell his breath, smoke, large jacket with fur insides, your fingers around his collar, he gets closer to you putting his hands on either side of you over the sink. He leans in, your hands around his cheeks devouring, diving into his lips, kissing, licking, and breathing. He lifts you up suddenly, you gasp, and sit on the edge of the sink, his hands pulling your skirt up, running them on your soft thighs up up up pressing, squeezing to the part where it aches the most. He kisses your neck, you whimper with need that this stranger is making you feel wet in your panties, and it hurts not to have him inside you. You kiss his neck, lick that long muscle, his callous hands grope your ass, thighs. Your hands move under his jacket, around his shoulders and then you feel a holster with a gun and suddenly stop, backing off.
“What? You have a gun?” breaking the kiss, yours and his lips swollen red from kissing.
“Yea, I’m a cop” he tries to continue kissing you, but you pull him away. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask surprised.
“Why does it matter?” he says. “Are you scared?” he smirks.
“No, but it’s hot,” you smile. “What’s your name anyway?”
“Flip” he continues kissing you. You push him away, your legs wrapped around his waist holding him between your legs and you can feel his hard cock pressing through his jeans inside your thigh. “What kind of name is that?” you wonder.
“stop asking questions” burying his face in your hair.
“Uhh, okay I guess you’re the cop” you frown. “So, I should stop talking”
He steps back, fixes his hair. “Look, my name is Philip, but I go by Flip. What is your name?” he asks.
“Ah, don’t do that, you’re a very arrogant man” you scoff, crossing your arms. “My name is Y/N”
“Good” he moves closer, opening your legs. “Can I fuck you now?” he bites your earlobe. The sheer volume and the forward words send shivers and heat to the warm wet place between your legs. You laugh through your kisses with him, arms wrapped around his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, your ass on the sink. He yanks down your jacket, cups your breast, biting down your neck. “Uuuhh..” you moan, feeling his finger rubbing your clit. “Please Flip”you pull him closer, arms wrapped around his neck, your hands in his beautiful black hair. Your free hand runs on his hard cock bulging through his jeans, he hisses. “You want this,” he whispers, licking your neck. “Yes please”...you beg him, “say it nicer” he orders, “fuck me ” you whisper, “say it nicer I said” he orders, “fuck me please” you look in his eyes, your fingers opening his belt, the zipper, the underwear, it’s too close but too far, the urgency is there, and you wrap your small hand around his big hard cock, he hisses, pulling your underwear to the side. “Take some evil cop inside you” he says, thrusting himself full inside you, you hang onto his neck for dear life, moaning without care whether others in the pub could hear you.
Tonight, I want to see it in your eyes
Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild
And tonight, we're gonna make it all come true
'Cause girl, you were made for me
And girl, I was made for you
Playing in the bar as a faint song in your ears.
He pushes his jeans down enough to be able to fuck you freely, still wearing his brown jacket, you pull it off him, falls to the floor, your hands go around his shoulder holster, red flannel, and the Star of David necklace dangles from his neck. You just love all of it. Him filling you with his cock. “Yea,...you like that?” he moans, “yes, continue please…please don’t stop”, he continues thrusting hard, deep. Your legs going up, fingers twirling in your platform shoes with every thrust, feeling him, pulling on his flannel ends that some buttons open revealing his white shirt under.
I was made for lovin' you, baby
You were made for lovin' me
And I can give it all to you, baby
Can you give it all to me?
“Open” he orders you, “open your mouth”, he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, and you moan, feeling his tongue in match with his thrusts. “Fuck” you breathe enough to moan it out loud because you’re so close. This man is heaven sent, who is he, beautiful, strong, hard muscles moving under your fingers. He was made for loving me, for fucking me the song in your ear, you laugh when he bites your lower lip.
He gets bigger somehow inside you and you can feel him close, burying his face in your neck, your hands in your hair, both moaning, and you can hear someone knocking at the door. “Flip” you whisper, “someone…uuh…is here…” you moan through his hard thrusts. He stops momentarily “fuck off” yells through the door, holds your face in his hands, kissing, licking at your lips, thrusting harder, and you can feel yourself close to the edge wanting to get to your release. “Harder…uhh..yes yes yes” you moan encouraging him to go faster, his hips pumping into you, his mouth muffling your moans, he feels you’re close, very close, and then you let yourself go, he stop thrusting letting you feel the wave, momentarily, “ahhh…” you moan loudly, he kisses your neck, bites your ear, before your breathing stops, in the throws of your passion, you want more, waves of pleasure running through your body, shaking when you feel his fingers rubbing your overly sensitive clit, his hips thrusting inside you, filling you, and you feel his body shuddering, he groans in your neck, breaths waving your skin, your fingers in his hair, then he pulls out coming on the side of your thigh and some on the floor. You smile and watch him come all over, your hands straightening his disheveled hair, perspiring with sweat, he falls between your arms, still sitting on the sink, you kiss the sides of his face through his hair.
“Fuck..”he groans coming down to earth from his pleasure. “Fuck…you’re hot”
He takes your face in his hands and kisses you strongly on your lips.
“Oh no” he sees the mess he made on your legs, pulls some paper towels and wipes it off you.
“Want to come over?” he asks, smirking, nibbling his face in your hair. “again?” you laugh, “all night” he whispers and runs his tongue across your lips.
#flip zimmerman x reader#flip zimmerman fanfic#flip zimmerman#adam driver au#blackkklansman#adam driver
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Before The Full Moon [blurb] {werewolf!Flip Zimmerman x Reader}
anonymous, for spooky sunday:
Will you please do something with werewolf Flip when the moon starts to get full but isn’t there yet? 🖤🖤
absolutely, I will!! thanks for submitting <3
warnings: smutty content. handjob. descriptions of a knot. kinda scenting?
(possible) tw’s: werewolf things.
word count: 566
This here, this is the worst part for Flip; the period between the sunset and the rising of the full moon.
He hurts all over as his body prepares for transition, his primal instincts are skyrocketing, and he can already feel the knot swelling at the base of his cock. Damn it.
You always feel so bad when you see him like this, wishing there was more you could do for him to make things better. But unfortunately, nothing could be done but wait for the full transformation to occur.
His teeth are already sharpening rapidly and the tips of his fingers are already shaping into claws. He has that feral look in his eyes, the one he tends to get at this time, when the line between man and wolf begins to blur.
You’re sitting on the couch when he walks over and takes a seat next to you, dragging his claws lightly across your fabric-clad thigh. He leans over and nuzzles the spot just behind your ear, the one you’ve come to learn is where the scent gland would be, fangs scraping across the delicate skin.
“New perfume?”
He growls, taking a long, slow inhale. You nod, holding your breath.
“Thought so. Fuck, it smells good.”
Flip begins to lap at that spot, breath turning to soft pants as his transformation continues. He’s hard as a fucking rock at this point, stretching the constricting denim of his Levi’s.
“Can I...will you...?”
Already knowing what he means, you nod, reaching over to undo his jeans and expose his swollen cock. The knot at the base is visible and by now you know to be extra careful with it, due to it begins incredibly sensitive.
Your hand begins to move up and down his shaft, earning you an animalistic growl from the handsome man sitting beside you. His back arches as you stroke him, soft gasps and grunts tickling the little hairs of you ear.
“Gggghhhohhh,”
He breathes, ministrations growing rougher as his climax nears.
You’re always delightfully surprised at how much larger Flip’s length gets when he transforms and this time, you’re literally feeling it grow in your hand. His fur is starting to grow into a thick bush on his abdomen and his pubes are joining, creating a coarse texture around your hand and wrist.
“Nnghh, peanut, I-I’m--”
It’s then that you gently wrap your thumb and forefinger around the swell at the base of his shaft, stroking it with quick flicks of your wrist. He lets out a loud howl, hips desperately rutting into your grasp as string after string of creamy seed spurts from his cock.
A puddle of white forms in the divot between your closed thighs by the time he’s all done, knot pulsing when you pull away. You notice, then, that his thighs and legs are completely covered in black fur.
As you allow your eyes to trail up his form, you realize that he’s fully transformed. You look up into his kind puppy dog eyes, smiling as you take in his wolf form.
He licks your cheeks, which makes you giggle, then bounds down off the couch. He can’t talk when he’s in this state, but you’ve gotten really good about reading his expressions over the years, and only one thing is coming across from the look in his eye right now:
I love you, Y/N.
#mrs-gucci#mrs-gucci writes#mrs-gucci writes flip zimmerman#mrs-gucci's sunday funday events#sunday funday#werewolf au#werewolf!flip zimmerman#werewolf flip zimmerman#werewolf!flip#werewolf flip#blackkklansman#blackkklansman (2018)#flip zimmerman#flip zimmerman x reader#flip zimmerman x you#werewolf!flip zimmerman x reader#flip zimmerman smut#werewolf flip zimmerman smut#flip zimmerman x y/n#flip x reader#flip x you#flip smut#tw: werewolf#adcu#adcu community#adcu fanfiction#adam driver character universe#adam driver#adam driver character#adam driver smut
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Happily Ever After (Part 1)
Flip Zimmerman x Reader
10k; Slow burn, strangers to lovers, hidden/secret identity, falling in love, first kiss; cw: Kidnapping, sword fighting, archery, near-death experiences
A/N: I originally was going to upload this as one big oneshot, but then I got carried away and it became too long. So here is part 1, part 2 will be coming tomorrow, which has a much darker tone/set of warnings, please keep that in mind! Thank you to everyone for voting on my 5k Follower celebration polls and allowing me to write this story! I truly couldn’t have done it without you :)
Available on AO3
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Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a magical kingdom known to all as Springs Valley. It was a peaceful and prosperous kingdom, nestled deep in the heart of a mountainous range. Though the villages were small, they were happy, for they were ruled by their beloved Queen and her husband, the Prince. The monarchs treated the villagers fairly, and justly, ruling with a kind yet firm fist from their castle, a grand building called the Purple Palace. And if there was one thing that the monarchs taught above all, it was that the power of goodness and love, would always triumph over evil.
This is the story of how one man fought against all odds to start anew, to find his heart, and earn his crown.
Of the many small villages that co-existed in Springs Valley, there was only one that could be considered the Capitol. It was called Pike Peak, and that is where our story begins. Pike Peak was nestled on the outskirts of the Purple Palace, so named due to the land surrounding it: vast waves of lavender which swayed like a tide in the breezes that traveled through the Valley. The fields stretched from the edge of the palace all the way to the village, and so no matter where one stood in Pike Peak, the castle was always in sight, its crystal walls glittering in the sunshine.
From his home high up in the mountains, just on the edge of the village, Philip Zimmerman awoke every morning to the rainbow beams of light that the sun bounced off of the crystal walls. A humble carpenter, these bright rainbows lured Philip out of bed each morning, and called him to begin his day toiling away in his workshop.
On one particular morning, Philip awoke with a thorn in his side. For over thirty years, he had lived and worked in this home, crafting all manner of things from wood. His father had owned this workshop for eighty-years, and his father had owned it for nearly as long prior. Though in life there were no certainties, one thing could be counted on: Philip was born a woodworker, and he would die a woodworker.
“Another day, another order.” Philip huffed to himself that morning, wishing he were doing something, anything, else with his time.
He wasn’t ashamed to be a carpenter – no of course not! He’s good at it, the best in the village they say. It’s an honor to be the best at something, Philip thought as he stretched and set some coffee atop the stove.
It’s just that…well…it sure would be nice to have someone to share that with, wouldn’t it? He’d never tell a soul, but often when Philip is hard at work assembling the orders that have been given, he lets his mind wander to another world, a different world, where he could be something other than just the man who fixes a wobbly table or loose wagon wheel. A world where he could be a Knight in shining armor, have a beautiful maiden to call his wife and keep warm at night.
He loved living in the village, of course he did. He loved the townspeople and the quaint living, the fresh bread traded for baking paddles carved by his own hand. But as Philip turned his gaze to the Purple Palace, glittering and shimmering in the distance, he had to believe that there was something more to life than this.
He had to, otherwise what was all this for?
And he didn’t know, but looking out through your window in that very same castle high above him, a certain someone was thinking the very same.
Though the walls were made of crystal, mystery shrouded the Purple Palace. No one from the village had ever been allowed inside, so naturally rumors spread across the Valley, of what could be hidden away. One such rumor was that of a Princess, cursed for all eternity to remain bound to the palace grounds. No one had ever even seen this Princess, but still, the rumors remained.
Little did the Valley know, but there was indeed a Princess, although she hardly ever felt like it. Never allowed beyond the boundaries of the East Wing, she spent her days keeping herself company, occupied with her books and her art and her music. It was music most of all which she loved, so much so that when she thought no one could hear her, she would sing in the early hours of morning. The King and Queen had told her it was for her own safety, that she would surely be kidnapped or held for ransom by the neighboring Kingdom – and so out of fear, inside the castle she remained.
It wasn’t so bad, she reasoned, living in the castle. She had all her needs tended to, anything she wanted was given to her. New beautiful dresses and shoes, books and instruments and the latest entertainments, whatever food she desired were all brought to her at the snap of her fingers -- but what she craved most of all, more than any delicious meal or fine gown, was love.
Love like that which existed in the books she read to pass the hours wasting away in her bedroom. True love, pure and sweet. So every morning she sang, her window open, hoping that one day someone might hear her, and she might find the love she was after.
But Philip did not know any of this. Shaking the daydreams out of his head and turning away from the palace, he began to busy himself with the day. He dressed in the clothing that his meager peasant’s salary could afford, and drank the black coffee he had brewed. Leaving his small kitchen to check the post, Philip braced himself for another slew of orders – and new orders there were.
Every day it seemed as though something new in the village needed mending, or replacing. He had come to expect the same requests day after day. However, what he had not braced himself for, what he could never in a million years have expected, was a thick envelope sealed with purple wax, stamped with the crest of the royal family, sitting on top of the pile of mail.
Rushing into the small house once more, Philip tore open the envelope and could scarcely believe what he was reading,
“Dear Mr. Zimmerman, we have heard the wonders of your skill and have decided to commission your talents to build a grand centerpiece for the upcoming harvest festival,” He read aloud to himself, his eyes growing wide with every word, “By royal decree, we invite you to the castle for a consultation.”
Philip took a moment to process the offer, eventually coming to the conclusion that could only be described as, holy shit.
Abandoning his tasks for the day, Philip at once set off towards the Purple Palace.
Though it was early in the day, the path to the palace was filled with villagers, going about their lives in the same orderly fashion as they always had, the very same that Philip did. Philip wondered if they had dreams of grandeur, or if it was only he who was going through this mid-life crisis.
“Good morning Mr. Zimmerman!” One portly fellow, the butcher, waved to him. “Thank you again for the cutting blocks you made me, they work like a damn charm!”
“You’re welcome, I’m glad to hear they are holding up.” Philip gave a friendly nod and waved back.
“Flip? Flip! Over here!” A young boy called to him as he passed through the village square, “Check out this new trick I learned!”
Out of nowhere, this child ran up to him and threw a large stick his way. Expertly, Philip caught it and began to at once deflect blow after blow from his young opponent’s stick. The young boy waved his around and around, acting as if it were the mightiest of swords.
Allowing the boy to overtake him and knock the stick out of his hands, Philip heartily laughed as he fell to the ground with a theatrical flair that had the child bursting into a fit of giggles. Philip tried not to allow himself to grow bitter over the years, never having any children of his own. The village children were good-natured and friendly, if a bit chaotic at times, and it always reminded Philip of what could have been.
“Very good, keep that up and one day you’ll be fighting for our crown.” Nevertheless, Philip always encouraged the children whenever he saw them, so he got up and with a ruffle of the boy’s hair, continued on his way.
---------------------
Glittering in the morning sunlight, the Palace was even more intimidating up close and personal. Guards standing by the door inspected him with raised eyebrows, but the moment he showed the seal on the envelope, the gates parted for him to pass through. As they opened, Philip hesitated – he had never been inside the palace before…no one had. He did not know what he was going to find, or what it would be like, but as the rainbows sparkled across the lavender fields, he knew there would only be one way to find out.
Every bit as magical as Philip had hoped, was the answer. He tried not to gawk at the mesmerizing architecture, seemingly clear and yet reflective all at once. Everything in the palace felt fragile and yet formidable, it was a disorienting experience. His disorientation only grew, as when he made his way through the entrance hall, he found none other than the King and Queen waiting for him atop their tall thrones. Philip knew what they looked like of course, their faces were on every piece of coinage and sent across the Valley by way of statue and tapestry, but much like the palace had seemed, up close they were intimidating.
At once, Philip bowed deeply, not wanting his first interaction with the monarchy to be his last.
“Mr. Zimmerman!” The King’s voice boomed loud and proud through the grand throne room, “How good of you to join us after all. We had hoped you would find our offer compelling.”
This friendliness was unexpected, and Philip, with great hesitation, stood back up to his full height. The King and Queen smiled at him, warm and welcoming.
“Yes your majesty, but I wonder, why me?” Philip had to ask, clutching the envelope in his too-large hands.
“Why not you?” The Queen challenged with a knowing smile, “It is no secret that you are the most talented carpenter in the Valley, and such talents do not go unnoticed by the crown.”
The praise brought a blush to Philip’s cheeks, and once again he averted his eyes. He wished his Ma were still here with him, if only she could have seen him now, being asked to make something for their monarchs.
“What would you like for me to build?” He wondered aloud, hoping it was not out of turn to be so direct with the royals.
“A wheelbarrow, one large enough to hold all the lavender for this year’s harvest.” The King did not seem deterred by his questioning, and had his answer ready to reply.
Philip’s eyebrows shot up at that notion, and through the crystal walls, he stared out into the sea of lavender just beyond. It seemed to stretch endlessly, for miles and miles all around. Philip had heard tales of the ocean but had never seen it himself – he imagined this was not dissimilar.
“That would be big indeed, I’m afraid I don’t think I would have the room to construct such a thing at my workshop.” Philip admitted, suddenly feeling ashamed at his own humble dwelling.
“You may live and work here for the duration of the build, if you so desire. I daresay that our workshop will be more than satisfactory.” The Queen offered at once, something that the carpenter had only ever dreamed about.
“It would be an honor, your majesties.” Philip agreed straight away, his hands already itching to begin carving and chipping and sanding away wood.
“Then we expect you to get started at once!” The Queen gave him a dismissing nod of her head, and he bowed deeply once more, before being escorted out of the throne room by palace aides, and down towards the East Wing.
And with that, Philip began constructing the largest and most impressive wheelbarrow that the Valley had ever seen.
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His routine was the same every day, for twenty days and twenty nights: in the early morning before the dawn, he would hike out into the forest to collect his wood. Chopping down only the most perfect of trees, Philip hauled logs and trunks across his shoulders back to the workshop, where he would use all the tools, space, and materials that the palace had to offer. He would not leave until very late at night, his hands cramped and body exhausted, but it was the most wonderful work he had done in a long time.
It was backbreaking work, especially for only one man, but every evening when he rested his head on the narrow bed in a small room just off the workshop, Philip fell asleep with pride in his chest. The singing helped, of course. Every morning, instead of awaking to rainbow beams of light shining through his window, he woke to the sweet song of a fair maiden. He did not know who she was, or even where she was, for the sound bounced around the crystal walls and made it appear as though she existed everywhere and nowhere.
Songs of longing, wordless melodies filled with a yearning for something which Philip had never been able to voice himself but that he could feel in his own soul, carried him through the day. It was a delight, a privilege to hear the music when it came, and a sorrowful emptiness when it finished.
Working by himself as he always had, alone in the workshop like he always was, he felt as though that maiden sang for him. He had grown so attached to the voice in fact, that when the wheelbarrow was complete and sent out to hold the year’s lavender harvest, Philip cast a yearning gaze up to the stars himself hoping that by some miracle, the maiden would reveal herself to him, and he could thank her for the beauty that was her voice.
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The festival began at sunrise, and though Philip was in good spirits, he found that he could not join in the immense excitement of those around him. Seemingly the entire town had awoken to celebrate; booths were constructed in the main square, and music and dancing were already underway.
In the center of it all, was the wheelbarrow, a structure larger than Pike Peak’s largest building. Standing nearly thirty feet tall and seemingly just as wide, it had been rolled out by palace guards and filled with lavender harvested from the fields, it truly was a sight to behold.
“Flip, it is marvelous.” The baker congratulated him, pulling him into a tight squeezing hug.
“How amazing, one of our own working for the King and Queen!” The cobbler stared at the magnificent sculpture in awe.
“Will they commission you again?” The blacksmith wondered aloud hopefully.
Of all these comments and questions, that one was the only thing that occupied Philip’s mind. Not for the prestige, or for the money, but to hear the voice of that fair maiden once again, to be able to work by the sound of her voice once more.
“That I cannot say, I hope to inquire about that when I receive my compensation tomorrow.” He replied, before sticking his hands in his pocket, and leaving the large gathering to go find a quiet place to smoke his pipe.
So lost in a daydream about the maiden was he, that he did not make it very far before someone collided with his firm chest at such a speed that she toppled onto the ground with a startled gasp.
“Oh shit!” The poor maiden groaned. Belatedly, Philip realized that she was holding a hot coffee fresh from one of the breakfast stalls, and immediately began to search and ensure that she had not been burned.
“Please forgive me!” Philip apologized at once, flustered in his own right, feeling like a fool and concerningly asking, “Are you injured?”
The maiden simply looked at him, and Philip felt as though all time and space came to a standstill. She was, undoubtedly, the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld. Even with her torn and tattered hem and her dirty apron, Philip could feel the tides within him change.
“No, no I’m quite alright. I should have been watching where I was going, the fault is mine.” Dazed, the maiden seemed just as affected by Philip as he was of her, and he pulled her gently to her feet.
“I don’t think we’ve met before, are you new to the village?” His own voice sounded a thousand miles away to his ears, too captivated in the presence of such beauty.
“Hm? Oh! Yes,” She began to stammer, nervous about something. “I, um well you see I come from out of town. I heard there to be a large and impressive centerpiece for the festival, and I wanted to see it for myself.”
“You heard about the wheelbarrow?” He blinked, chest pounding.
“Of course! And I find it absolutely magnificent, seeing it up close like this.” She replied with an honest smile, “Whoever made it surely is an expert at their craft.”
At this, Philip’s heart soared! This beautiful woman had heard of him, had heard of his work. His heart began to beat harder, faster than before. All at once, any worries he may have had about the quality of his craftsmanship vanished, all in the wake of this one person’s praise.
“Do you really think so?” Philip swallowed around a lump in his throat, and all too softly, the maiden nudged the back of his hand with her own.
“Yes, I do.” She whispered, a sparkle of sorts in her eye that made Philip sure he had to be dreaming, that sort of sparkle that told him she knew exactly who built it. Biting her lip for a moment, she looked around and continued in that same hushed tone, “I fear that I am not familiar enough with your village to know my way around this festival, would you accompany me?”
No one had ever asked Philip to accompany them to anything, as a friend or…or otherwise. And the way she was looking at him, he knew that this was most certainly an otherwise.
“It would be a privilege.” He offered her his arm, which she gladly accepted, and back to the festival they went.
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Pike Peak knew how to throw a party, this was extremely evident to the young maiden as Philip led her through the main square. Everyone had donned a costume of sorts, masks and hats and funny tunics made to look like the buds of the lavender flower which they were celebrating. Music played happily and people danced, children ran about shouting out in joy as they chased one another, and merriment was abundant.
As they walked through the square, Philip brought the maiden down towards the merchant stalls, where craftsmen like himself had goods on display for purchase. It wasn’t just those in Pike Peak who attended the festival, no no, people from all over Springs Valley made the journey to partake in the festivities, and the merchants knew it. Philip had of course seen all these goods before, but it was evident that the maiden had not.
She stopped in front of one stall belonging to the Jeweler. Kept in wooden boxes made by Philip’s own hand were one of a kind necklaces, rings, earrings, and bracelets of purple stones that shone in the late morning light.
“Would you like one?” Philip asked her gently, when he noticed her staring at a particular pair of earrings.
“Oh I couldn’t possibly.” She replied with an embarrassed shake of her head, about to move on from the stall.
“Which pair? Please, allow me.” Philip reaches out to grasp her wrist to prevent her from leaving, wanting to give something to her, wanting to do something nice for her. He didn’t have very much money, but he knew that he would soon be paid for his commission, and decided this beautiful woman was worth the expense.
“Those.” Entranced, she pointed to an ornate set.
Philip had to admit, she had wonderful taste. The earrings were set in gold, small hoops from which stones dangled. The first and largest stone was oval shaped, and from it six smaller circles in two rows of three sat nestled in gold as well. And then, dangling from them, three oblong purple stones twinkled and clinked together like windchimes as Philip picked them up.
“How much?” Philip asked the Jeweler, who eyed him with joy.
“For you, who has done so much for me? Take them as a gift, I insist.” The Jeweler put her hands up as if to say she would not be convinced to change her mind. She regarded the maiden then and told her, “Without this man’s talents, I would not have a studio to make my designs in.”
The maiden grinned at Philip, who only blushed deeply from the kind words spoken about him. Turning to him, the maiden pushed her hair away from her ears.
“Would you put them on for me?” She asked, and Philip had to will his hands not to shake as he did just that. She did not even wince when he tightened the earrings a little too much, and the two chuckled together out of shyness when she corrected it, before addressing the Jeweler and this handsome man, “Thank you, they’re beautiful. I shall never take them off.”
With that, Philip and the maiden continued along their way, exploring more of the festival.
Surely he was delusional, he thought, he must have been. Because every now and again, he felt the barest brush of knuckles against his own, a tentative invitation. He is about to have a crisis about it, when she speaks softly and does it again, the careful nudging of her fingers against his.
“Won’t you take my hand?” She whispered, turning those bright eyes of hers onto him, stunning him with her beauty.
He grew self-conscious, regarding his own palms. Covered in callouses and blisters and bandages were they, cut up by splintered wood and burned by hot glues. They were a peasant’s hands, dirt still lingering under the fingernails, scarred from a lifetime of efforts. Her hands were soft, he could tell just by looking at them, at the smooth supple skin that kept ghosting over his own.
“I fear that you wouldn’t like them, they are rough from years of woodworking.” He admitted, and much like he had felt in front of the King and Queen, he feels shame.
But she only took his hand with a confidence that shocked him, the electric feeling of her fingers weaving through his own making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
“You are mistaken, my good sir.” The maiden gives him a smile, soft and sweet, “It is because they are rough that I would like to hold them.”
Philip could do nothing but blink.
Could this be…? Could it be the very thing that he had longed for for so long? A person who accepted him for all that he was, and all that he was not? With the way she looked at him, Philip felt his heart begin to pound, growing larger in his chest. She, lovely and gentle as she was, wanted to hold his hand, his dirty scarred hand – never did Philip think he could have ever been so lucky!
In that moment, it was as if the festival disappeared entirely, as if there were no other villagers in the square aside from him and her. He was lost in her eyes, in her smile. Sweating and nervous, Philip let his eyes close and began to lean down, compelled to offer her a kiss. Terrified, he held his breath as adrenaline surged through his body, for though he had his eyes closed, he felt her leaning in towards him, felt her lips just about to press against his own when –
The wailing of a small child snapped them both out of their moment of intimacy, and Philip opened his eyes, seeing a young boy with big fat tears spilling over his cheeks clinging to the maiden’s apron.
“Oh you poor thing!” She opened her arms for him and scooped him up, balancing him atop her hip in a manner that has Philip so endeared to her that he cannot even be angry that their moment was interrupted. She pet down his thick curly hair and bounced him gently, all the while soothing him, “Don’t cry, what is the matter?”
“I’ve lost my Mama.” The little boy hiccupped and cried, and the maiden gets a determined look in her eye straight away.
“We’ll help you find her, won’t we?” She asked Philip, and he was so dazed by the sight of her kindness that he barely recognizes his own voice when he speaks.
“Yes of course -- ” Philip began fully prepared to do just that, before a frantic looking woman appeared out of the crowd.
She had another child on her hip, this one much younger than the boy that had stopped crying once he saw her. The family resemblance was striking, and Philip kicked himself for not recognizing the boy.
“My precious baby! Oh thank you so much -- Flip, madam, how can I ever repay you?” The cobbler’s wife cried tears of relief when the maiden let her son out of her own arms, the boy running back to his mother.
“Don’t be silly, I’m only glad it did not take long for you to be reunited.” She replied. Now that her hand was freed, it once again twined through with Philip’s, an almost subconscious decision that Philip had no intention of bringing up, lest she change her mind.
“Bless you, oh bless you.” The cobbler’s wife surged forward and placed a kiss to each of their cheeks, before gently scolding her son as they walked away, “Darling what have I told you about running off, you gave me a heart attack!”
In the wake of the momentary drama, the maiden couldn’t help but smile at Philip.
“Your name is Flip?” She inquired, and Philip kicked himself – he had never actually introduced himself after all this time.
“It’s a nickname.” He corrected, before bowing with good manners like the gentleman he was as he said dramatically, “Philip Zimmerman at your service.”
“That’s a strong name. You wear it with pride, I can tell.” The maiden laughed at his theatrics, a sound which warmed his heart.
“It’s the only name I’ve ever had.” Philip mused, “So I suppose I have to, don’t I?”
“I suppose so, yes.” She chuckled at him softly, her eyes kind even though they were teasing. He felt no malice from her, and therefore allowed the jests to go unreprimanded.
At the thought of jesting, Philip was reminded of the stages which had been constructed in the now-harvested fields of lavender. Stages where jesters and comedians alike tried to rouse crowds, nestled among smaller stages where those who felt lucky could try their hand at various games and competitions.
“Come, let me show you more of the festival, there are games to be played.” Philip squeezed her hand adoringly, watching in delight as her eyes lit up.
“Games! Oh that sounds wonderful!” She breathed, and Philip could have sworn that he never felt more alive than when he began to run, tugging him along towards the promise of entertainment like that which she had never before seen.
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Hours later, many hours later, when the sun had gone down and the crickets had come out to play, their songs filling the air with a symphony of chirping, Philip sat conflicted. He never wanted this evening to end, because he knew that once it did, this woman that he had decidedly given his heart to would have to leave him…and if she only came to visit for the festival, he did not know if he would ever see her again.
The two of them found themselves sitting alone near the drinking well, after enjoying the last of their dinner together. The maiden was even more beautiful in the moonlight, if such a thing were possible, and Philip spent a great deal trying to figure out how to express that. She didn’t seem to mind the silence, her eyes closed as she rested her head against his shoulder, comfortable with the tranquility.
“I must confess, I have never met anyone like you before.” Philip said eventually, his voice quiet.
“Nor I to be sure.” She replied, the pinky of her hand gently looping around his much larger one. When she spoke again, it was with a breathless sort of sadness that told him she didn’t want to leave him either. Plaintively, she looked up at him and sighed, “Oh Philip…”
“May I kiss you?” He dared to hope aloud, hoping that this time they would not be interrupted.
The smallest of smiles graced her lips, and she gave him a gentle nod. Joy simmering underneath his skin, Philip leaned in and pressed a small, chaste kiss to her lips. She was every bit as sweet as he had imagined she would be, and when she sighed against his mouth and allowed her lips to part, Philip thought he was going to pass out from the way her tongue welcomed his in.
Like that, the carpenter and the young maiden kissed underneath the stars, the last of the festival dying down in the distance. By the drinking well, Philip’s heart soared, as he cupped her cheek with one of his rough palms, and she only leaned into it, nuzzling her face further.
“I’m afraid.” She admitted with a whisper when they broke apart, only far enough to breathe, their foreheads and noses still touching.
“With me, you have nothing to fear.” Philip promised, not knowing why she should be afraid, but wanting her to understand that should she allow him, he would protect her from any kind of harm, from now until always.
He needn’t say the words, for she heard them anyway, and leaned in for another kiss, one that he was happy to give, one that he found himself always willing and eager to give.
So wrapped up in the embrace were they, that the clock-tower struck eleven times nearly unnoticed, until on the twelfth time, the maiden pulled away sharply, eyes wide, afraid.
“Shit, is that the final evening bell?” She scrambled to stand, pulling herself away from the warm arms that had surrounded her.
Philip frowned, confused, worried for her. Was this what she meant by afraid? He had so many questions, only getting so far as “Yes but – ”
“I must go! I’m sorry – ” She interrupted him desperately, regret and terror and sadness plaguing her voice.
The maiden began to dash away, and Philip chased after her, managing to take her hand and pull her towards him with a plea.
“Wait! Please wait, please don’t go.” Philip cupped her cheeks and felt the cold of dread flood through him, realizing belatedly that -- “You never told me your name!”
“It’s (Y/N)!” The maiden ducks out of his grip with a look of despair, torn between wanting to stay and needing to leave. “I must go, or else I’ll be in trouble, big trouble.”
Against his better judgement, Philip releases the maiden. He wouldn’t dare disrespect her wishes, no matter how desperately he wished that she could stay with him.
“Will I ever see you again?” He chased after her still, not wanting to let her out of his sights just yet.
“I hope so.” She threw him a pained glance over her shoulder, her voice breaking as tears stung at her eyes, “I’m sorry!”
“That’s okay – I’ll, I’ll find you!” Philip promised, his voice carrying out into the night, “No matter how far you go, I’ll find you.”
With that, the maiden was gone.
On the far edge of the village, where the town met the mountains, Philip stood alone. He looked out at the vast expanse of the wood beyond him, and let out a deep sigh.
Just then, he noticed the moonlight twinkling on something that had fallen to the ground. Picking it up, he realized it was one of the earrings that he had given her. It must have come free from her ear in her haste, and carefully, ever so gently, he picked it up and cradled it in his palm.
“I don’t know how, but I’ll find you.” He said to the earring, before clasping his hand around it and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.
---------------------
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The next morning, feeling a dark cloud of sorrow and frustration beginning to form over his head, Philip dressed himself and began his trek to the palace once more. As part of the negotiations, the King and Queen of Springs Valley had told him that they would pay him his commissioned fee after the work was completed, so that he would not run off with the sum. He thought this perfectly reasonable, although really, who was he to argue with the royals?
The only thing keeping him in a good mood was the anticipation of this payment, which he had, through the night, decided he would use to travel and find (Y/N), which he had silently pledged his devotion to.
He figured she must be in one of the neighboring villages, which weren’t all that far away. Using the payment from the monarchy, Philip decided he would purchase himself the materials and means to ride across the Valley in search of her. But when he got far enough into town on the walk passing through so that he could reach the Purple Palace, he noticed that everyone was gathered in the town square, a concerned hush fallen over a crowd.
Frowning, Philip stood at the edge of this crowd, and tapped the shoulder of a young man to get his attention.
“What’s going on?” He demanded to know, for this was no merry enjoyment of a festival, no no, this was a concerning sort of apprehension and worry.
“Haven’t you heard? There’s been a kidnapping.” The young man explained, growing more impassioned with every word, “Someone has taken the princess! The princess from the Purple Palace! I always knew she was real, apparently the king and queen received a ransom note from King Felix of the Forbidden Forest -- and are on the verge of waging war.”
At this news, Philip staggered back a few feet.
The rumors of the princess were true? She was real? And she had been kidnapped?
Philip didn’t have much time, it would seem. He needed to get his payment and get out now, before any war were to begin. He needed to find the beautiful woman that stole his heart, and make sure she was safe from harm. Without so much as even a goodbye, Philip broke into a running pace, his mind clouded as his feet carried him to the palace.
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Bursting through the doors, he bowed deeply, out of breath yet respectful.
“Your majesties, I have heard of your tragedy and I am so sorry to hear that such a thing has come to pass.” Philip broke royal protocol by speaking to them first, wanting simply to get what he came for, and get out of their hair.
The royals were, by all accounts, despaired. The Queen wept on her throne, her face buried in her hands, and the King’s sadness manifested in a snappish, “What do you want?”
They were no longer warm and welcoming as they had once been, but Philip could not blame them; their daughter was taken from them after all.
“I come to fetch my payment, for the commission.” Philip boldly requested, making the King frown.
“Your what? No I don’t think so, not now.” He waved the carpenter away, shocking Philip.
“…With all due respect, your majesty, you promised – ”
“I said no! There is war to be had, the money will go towards that instead. I do not expect you to understand.” The King shouted, before his shoulders sagged and he slumped back in his throne.
Philip chewed on his lip for a moment. He could see the palace guards approaching him, ready to throw him out, ready to haul him and drag him out if necessary…but Philip needed that money. He needed it so that he could search for (Y/N). So, without thinking, he blurted out the only solution his mind had thought of:
“What if there need not be a war?”
The King and Queen both looked at him then, eyebrows drawn in confusion.
“I beg your pardon?” The Queen, with her scratchy sorrow-filled voice demanded of this…this…this peasant.
Philip stood tall and strong under their gaze, squared his shoulders and lifted his chin.
“Allow me to retrieve the princess.” He requested, and tried to ignore the snickers and incredulous chuckles of the palace guards behind him.
“You!” The King scoffed, feeling like the cause was well and truly hopeless. “Why you wouldn’t last one night out in the Forbidden Forest, let alone make it all the way to King Felix’s fortress.”
“Allow me to try. Give me five days, if I have not returned by then, assume me dead and send your armies.” Philip insisted, “But if I do return with the princess, I expect double the payment for my commission.”
This was a risk, he knew, but he was certain it was something he could pull off. He knew the mountains like the back of his hand, he spent his entire life in the wood! He knew the paths and the trails, and most importantly, with King Felix expecting an army, he would never suspect a lone carpenter to be of any threat.
The Queen seemed to be thinking the very same thing, because after a moment or two of shocked silence, she stood up from her throne and descended the many steps which kept her elevated. She descended those steps with grace and poise, and when she finally stopped in front of Philip, he got down on one knee.
Placing a hand on Philip’s shoulder, a move which stunned everyone in the royal court, the Queen promised softly, “My boy, if you return with our princess, I will grant you anything your heart desires, and on that you have my word.”
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And so, Philip’s journey began.
Riding atop the gentle steed that had accompanied him on many a trip into the mountains, and equipped with nothing but his carpentry tools, Philip set off discreetly, quietly. There could be no fanfare, no one in the village could even know what he was up to, lest the evil King Felix catch word.
He had put a sign on his workshop’s door saying that he had gone out of town, but he did not say for what. It felt slightly wrong, leaving the village without another word like that, but all the while he kept one thing in mind: the sooner he rescued the princess, the sooner he could begin to search for his lovely (Y/N).
The mountains were quiet for a long while, the better part of the day in fact. He and his horse had ridden through the winding trails that so many before him had traveled, trails that were easy and comfortable. He wasn’t very far outside the village yet, so things were relatively tame. It wasn’t until dusk began to fall, that he noticed a steady plume of chimney smoke up in the distance.
A chimney meant a house, which meant possible shelter for the night. Philip allowed himself to hope that perhaps the owner of the house would give him refuge, even if only for a few hours – and was so caught up in his daydreaming that he did not notice when a man jumped out of a tree a few feet in front of him, landing on his feet skillfully.
“Halt!” The man said, holding a hand outstretched, startling Philip’s horse.
“Woahh!” Philip tried to calm his steed, and when the beast was no longer threatening to buck him off its back, Philip cleared his throat and tried to be amiable, “Good day to you sir, what – ”
“None shall pass without besting me and my bow.” The man cut Philip off, making him raise his eyebrows.
“…Excuse me?” Philip sized the man up for a moment.
He was handsome, a well styled afro and neatly groomed beard denoting him as a man who prided himself on his appearance. His clothing followed suit in such a fashion – well tailored and made from expensive materials like silk, a brocade tunic shimmered in the warm light of the golden hour.
“You are trespassing on my land, and if you wish to leave with your life intact, you must best me in a test of archery.” The man did not budge, and Philip did not know how to proceed.
“But I have not bow nor arrow.” He explained, to which the man’s proud posture fell a little flat. For how could there be a competition if the competitors were not equally matched?
“Oh.” The man scratched at his beard for a moment or two, trying to come up with a solution. Eventually, he snapped his fingers with an elated smile that showed off brilliantly white teeth, “Well in that case, you may borrow some of mine!”
The man beckoned Philip to follow him, and with only a small amount of hesitation, Philip followed. What lay before them was a grand home, constructed of the most sturdy stone. A family crest that Philip did not recognize waved from flagpoles atop the home, but Philip didn’t need to recognize the crest for him to know that this was a noble home. This became increasingly evident as the man lead Philip to a field where a shed sat – a shed that looked larger than his entire home.
“What’s the test?” Philip asked, having gotten off of his horse and walked up to the man.
He handed Philip a beautifully constructed bow, and three sharpened arrows. He then pointed to two targets way across the other side of the field, so far away that Philip had a hard time locating them at first.
“Best of three shots, whoever gets the most bullseyes is the victor.” The man announced, and Philip gave a single nod in agreement.
It was no secret in the village that Philip had some of the best eyesight around, he needed to. Spending so many hours staring at intricately fine details in his woodwork had sharpened his skills considerably, but more than that Philip also hunted for his own food, as much of the village did. Nearly every weekend Philip went into the mountains to shoot, and every weekend he was successful.
This man did not know that, but it did not matter. The only thing that mattered, was Philip getting this over as quickly as possible so that he could be reunited with his maiden.
Stepping up to a line of dirt in the field, the man allowed Philip to take the first shot. He steadied his aim, took in a deep breath and fired – bullseye! Philip gestured to the man, who went next. With expert precision, he too shot his first arrow directly into the bullseye of the target.
Philip went again, and again he scored a bullseye, so precisely in fact, that this arrow managed to split straight through the previous one. Shocked, the man looked Philip up and down, as if trying to recognize him from a past archery competition. Philip only gave him a shrug, and watched as he too split his previous arrow into two pieces.
Each man only had one arrow left, and Philip knew that this was the one that mattered most. If he struck his bullseye, he surely would be allowed to pass. Closing his eyes, he focused not on the setting of the sun, or of the breeze in the air that evening brought, but of his (Y/N). He visualized her smiling face, her lips upon his, and released his bow into the air.
It soared through the great open field with precision and struck the target with a determination that Philip mirrored in his soul. He cracked one eye open, and saw that the arrow had indeed landed on the bullseye! Not nearly as well as the other two arrows had, but it was undeniably a success.
With a huff, the man raised his own bow and arrow for the final time, and pulled back a little too forcefully out of anger at being bested – causing the bow to snap and the arrow to go flying rogue.
“Dammit!” The man shouted, stumbling backwards, his hand in pain from the recoil of the broken bow.
“Look out!” Philip urged, because what went up must come down, and Philip charged at the man, tackling him to the ground, knocking him out of the way of the arrow which was making its return to Earth directly in the spot where the man had been standing.
Bewildered, the man looked up at Philip with admiration, as he stood away from the nobleman.
“Here, let me help you up.” Philip insisted, “Take my hand.”
“What is your name?” The man asked, accepting the offer and allowing Philip to haul him to his feet.
“Philip Zimmerman, but call me Flip. Yours?” Philip gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder to make sure he was alright, as the two got their footing. The men looked at the arrow in the ground, noted how it had buried itself deep.
“Lord Ronald Stallworth, but you may call me Ron.” Ron replied, with a polite nod of his head. “You are a most accomplished archer, Flip. Where are you headed? I don’t get many visitors out this way.”
Philip looked around, looked over his shoulder, wanting to make sure no one was around to hear.
“The Princess has been kidnapped, and I have been tasked on a secret mission to retrieve her.” He explained, hoping that Ron would understand his urgency, “I’m sorry about your bow, Ron. But I must be going now.”
Philip began to walk back towards his horse, when Ron surprised him by jogging to catch up, walking alongside him.
“Wait!” Ron called, stopping in front of him for a moment to make Philip pause. Ron put his hands on Philip’s shoulders in a friendly gesture, and then pointed to himself, “You are a good man, Philip. Allow me to join you on your quest! I know these woods well, I could be of assistance to you. Two archers are better than one, wouldn’t you say?”
“Why do you want to join me?” Philip frowned. Ron was rich, he had a luxurious home and accommodations, surely that would be more comfortable than a rugged trip up the mountains.
Ron chuckled at his question, and scratched at his beard once more.
“To tell you the truth, it’s pretty fucking boring here waiting for someone to pass by for a challenge. And you are the first man who has ever bested me, I am eager to see where your journey takes you. Where it takes us.” Ron looked hopeful, and Philip reasoned that he was right, two archers were better than one.
“I’d be happy to have you join, Ron.” Philip agreed, officially adding a new member to his party.
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Not only did Ron allow Philip to spend the night in his large home, but he also ordered his kitchen staff to cook a grand meal for them to enjoy. Philip was grateful for the strength, particularly as Ron was rich, and had no worries about running out of food any time soon, so the portions were large, and there was more than enough leftover to be packaged for the road.
“So, a princess, huh?” Ron asked around a bite of venison, thoughtful and yet slightly confused.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Philip sighed, slightly annoyed at this interruption of his plan to find the maiden.
Ron frowned into his potatoes, confessing, “I didn’t know that we had one.”
At this, Philip let out an honest laugh and shrugged, chugging a large gulp of sweet mead.
“To tell you the truth? Up until this morning, I didn’t either.” Philip admitted, which made Ron laugh too. They cheered goblets, and indulged in another drink at the situation before them. “I thought the whole thing was a bunch of bullshit rumors, but then there it is in the square: Princess Kidnapped.”
“The reward must be great then, for you to go on such a dangerous journey alone to retrieve her.” Ron noted casually, but Philip shrugged.
“Only that which I have been owed, is all that I’m asking.” He replied cryptically.
Of course he had decided he would give Ron a portion of the money for his help, but he didn’t necessarily want anyone knowing just how big of a reward it truly was. In any case, Ron was a Lord, and probably spent that very amount on a month’s worth of goods.
“I wonder what your wife must think of such selflessness.” Ron replied with a grin then, making Philip’s mood soften.
“I…I have no wife to speak of, though I should hope that if I had, she wouldn’t find fault in me for it.” Philip’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. He hadn’t really allowed himself to think about it, about what would happen should he find (Y/N).
Now it only seemed logical, the most obvious step, for him to court her and hopefully, one day, marry her. But that was a dream, one that Philip couldn’t get too ahead of himself to dwell on. He needed to make it back with the Princess alive first and foremost.
“Forgive me.” Ron’s voice too quieted, and he cleared his throat, “It’s just, I can see the love in your eyes, I was wrong to assume.”
“What do you mean?” Philip asked, a frown dipping between his eyebrows.
Ron mused and mulled over a bite of roasted vegetables, tried to best explain himself. He eventually settled on the truth: “It affects everyone differently, love. But every lover I have ever known as the undeniable sparkle in their eye, as do you.”
“Well…there is someone…” Philip admitted, a blush blooming across his cheeks.
“Ah-ha! Tell me all about her my good man.” Elated, Ron clapped his hands together once and let a happiness light up his face.
“Her name is (Y/N), we met last night.” Philip blushed deeper, reminiscing in the fantasy that had been their time together at the festival. “I am hoping that when all this is over, I might find her and see her again.”
“Well then, we must get our rest and leave at the first light of morning! For it is a long journey to the forbidden wood, and then a long journey back.” Ron replied.
Encouraged by his enthusiasm, Philip ate the rest of the food on his plate with a newfound vigor. Perhaps he could do this, he reasoned. With a man like Ron at his side, who had such skill and obvious charm, the two of them could be unstoppable.
When the dinner was over, they retired to their respective rooms, and Philip allowed himself to let sleep wash over his mind, thoughts of his fair maiden dancing in his head.
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The next morning, true to his word, Ron woke Philip at the break of dawn. During the night, his servants had prepared a bundle for which Philip and Ron would travel, including the leftover food, canteens of fresh water, and a change of clean clothes. Additionally, Philip was provided with a bow and a set of arrows to use all his own. Philip was grateful for it, and the two set off in amicable company, listening to the sounds of the trees and nature sing around them.
They managed to cover much ground in the morning, passing the time by talking of themselves. Ron told Philip all about how his family came from a long line of nobility, and that he inherited the estate from his father. Philip told Ron all about how he too in a way, inherited his trade from his father. Though they came from different places, the two found more in common with one another than they found differences.
All in all, it was a wonderful friendship that had begun to form, and Philip and Ron found themselves in a fit of laughter at a joke Ron had told, when they came to a large stone bridge that sat high up above a gorge of water. Standing in front of the bridge was a tall man, with long sandy hair, and an expression on his face that told Philip he meant business.
“Halt!” The man said, his voice commanding of attention, “Who goes there?”
Philip and Ron looked at one another, and as Ron had a higher rank of authority, he was the one to reply.
“We are Lord Ron Stallworth, and Flip Zimmerman, who speaks?” Ron asked in return, and the man straightened his posture, before bowing slightly, not realizing he was in the presence of nobility.
“I am Jimmy Creek my Lord, owner of this bridge. If you wish to cross, you must pay the toll.” Jimmy introduced himself, making Philip look at Ron.
“Do you have any money on you?” Philip whispered, assuming the answer was yes, and being unfortunately surprised when Ron gave him an embarrassed wince.
“Shit, no. Didn’t think we’d need it for such a short trip, you?” Ron whispered back, making Philip’s mind race to find a solution.
“We have no coins to spare. May we pass by another means? Or perhaps I could send money to you once we have returned?” Philip asked, hoping that Jimmy would be reasonable. He looked like a reasonable sort of fellow, anyway.
Jimmy thought on this for a while, before brandishing the sword that he kept on his hip. The metal glinted in the afternoon light, throwing sparks of sunshine all around as he twirled it and whirled it around effortlessly.
“If you can best me in a fight, then you may pass.” Jimmy announced, and Philip chewed on the inside of his cheek.
“I haven’t got a sword.” He replied honestly, and this stumped Jimmy, for what travelers did not move through these mountains without a sword?
“Oh. Well in that case, you can borrow one of mine.” Jimmy snapped his fingers then, and beckoned Philip over to him as he walked back to a small hut near the bridge.
It was humble, made of stone and wood, and looked similar to one of the dwellings he might see in his own village. Philip waited outside while Jimmy rummaged through his hut and eventually emerged with a sword for Philip to use.
The sword was beautiful. Obviously crafted with care, the grip happened to be the perfect size for Philip’s hand, the jewel crusted pommel and cross-guard weighted just enough to counter balance the long blade. Philip wondered where a man like Jimmy came across such a thing, as he gave it a few experimental twists and spins.
Philip had virtually no training in swordsmanship, except for that of the surprise attacks that the village children waged on him. Jimmy was no child though, and this made Philip gulp, doubting his chances – until Jimmy began to run at him full speed ahead, and the only thing Philip could think about was winning.
Swords clanged, great big sparks flying into the air as they went after one another again and again. Jimmy may have been older, but he was nimble, quick on his feet. Philip found he could not use his sheer size and strength alone, although this certainly helped him. Dodging and ducking away from Jimmy’s blows, Philip pushed pushed pushed Jimmy back, until the two of them began to move down the bridge.
Below them, the gorge rushed with water furiously hungry, white frothy waves of grey-blue water crashing and smacking against craggy cliff walls. Out there on the bridge, the wind had no place to buffer against, and both men began to realize that one strong gust of wind could very well send them over.
The sounds of their swords echoed through the gorge, as did their grunts of effort from trying to best one another. Jimmy would lunge, and Philip would jump back, waiting for a moment to lunge himself. Their swords met in a flurry of silver metal, blade swinging expertly and with deadly precision.
He thought of the children in the village, thought of the way his beloved (Y/N) might interact with them. How she might cheer them on as they attacked Philip in the very same manner that Jimmy now was. Spinning his sword in the same way that he had watched the young boy from the village all that time ago, Philip managed to generate enough momentum in his arms to block every single sharp and quick blow that Jimmy sent his way.
Back back back Philip pushed Jimmy, his arm muscles flexing and his feet planted on the ground – until he gave Jimmy a particularly harsh swing of his sword, and in the effort to block it, not only did Jimmy’s hand lose its grip on his sword, but Jimmy stumbled backwards and fell, the wind striking at the worst possible moment, sending Jimmy over the edge of the bridge.
“Oh fuck!” Ron’s shout traveled from the other end of the bridge where he waited with the horses, watching with wide eyes, a hand clasped over his mouth as Philip ran to the edge.
Jimmy was dangling precariously close to death, his hands scrabbling for a grip on the rough and rocky side of the bridge that did not promise much purchase. The wind howled and whipped up the spray of water from a thousand feet below, a taste of the certain death Jimmy would face should he fall.
“Quick, take my hand!” Philip shouted over the rush of the wind and water and the pulse in his veins, letting his own sword clatter onto the stone of the bridge as he reached out.
Without hesitation, Jimmy grasped the offered hand and Philip hauled him back onto the bridge safely, Philip’s muscles making quick work of the effort. Exhausted from their fight and this momentary scare, the two men simply laid on their backs on the bridge, catching their breath.
“You spared me?” Incredulously, Jimmy regarded Philip who was not more than a few feet away on the narrow structure of stone.
“Of course, why should I kill you?” Philip replied, a friendly smile teasing at his lips.
“Thank you, Philip. You are a good man.” Jimmy said seriously, and Philip blushed, he wasn’t sure about all that, it’s just, who was he to end a man’s life? Jimmy glanced at the beautiful sword that “You can keep that, you’ve earned it.”
Philip too looked at the sword, at how beautiful it was. Because really, the thing shone in the light magnificently, the jewels sparkling and shimmering in the rays of the sun. Philip was entranced, absolutely entranced by it, but he could not lay around and stare at it all day. He had a princess to rescue, and a maiden to love.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Philip asked as he stood up, helping Jimmy up too.
“I’m sure.”
“We’ll be on our way then.” Philip gave him a nod, and then gestured for Ron to come over with the horses and join them, eager to continue on their way.
“Wait! Allow me to accompany you on your quest?” Jimmy asked, eyes wide with a sudden anxiety.
At this, Ron and Philip looked at one another and then back at him, a slight frown on their faces.
“Why?” Ron asked, looking him up and down, wondering what Jimmy was suddenly so anxious.
“Truth be told, I’m really sick of sitting around on this fucking bridge. My father sat on this bridge as did his – but I never wanted to. This is my chance at something new, something different!” He then turned to Philip, “I see you have bows and arrows, but in combat you’d be best to do with an extra swordsman, and that I can provide. Besides, you’re the only person to ever give me a run for my money like that – I respect you.”
Philip understood that feeling all too well, the ache in his bones for a different life than the one that was promised to him. He had been given a chance for this quest, and now he could do the very same for this man, he could give Jimmy a chance of his own.
Looking at Ron to gauge his reaction, Ron looked back, and then nodded with a great big grin, “Oh I don’t see why not, welcome to the group.”
“Thank you! I won’t let you down!” Jimmy excitedly hugged them both, his long sandy-blonde hair blowing in the breeze as he ran back to his hut just on the other side of the bridge.
When he came back, he had a horse of his own, and a bag already packed. Philip smiled, he must have had this bag packed for quite some time. It made something inside Philip’s chest warm – one was never too old for adventure, a truth that continued to make itself evident.
“Say, where are we headed anyway?” Jimmy asked, sheathing his sword in the holster on his hip.
“To the forbidden wood, to rescue the princess that’s been kidnapped by King Felix.” Philip responded, sure that no one could hear them up on the bridge the way they were.
Jimmy frowned and looked at Ron, scratching the back of his neck and asking, “We have a princess?”
Ron burst out laughing and slapped Jimmy on the back, “That’s what I said!” ---------------------
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Tagging some friends! Part 2 will be up tomorrow :) @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief @materialisthicc @drake-bells-waxed-penis @slut-for-harri @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings
#flip zimmerman#flip zimmerman x reader#flip zimmerman/reader#flip zimmerman x you#adam driver fanfic#adam driver#adcu#blackkklansman#flip zimmerman fanfic#5k follower celebration#my writing#fairytale au#storybook au
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This is a personal AU background story for a Role Playing (RP) story I have going on with @morby on Discord.
I want to emphasize this is NOT a reader insert story. Sorry
So if you don’t want to read this one I get it. Please read TAGS!
#flip zimmerman#candycanes19#my personal rp au story#Level Nine#level 9#adam driver#blackkklansman#my fic
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Type of kiss #2 in an Immortal AU with our big boi Flip?😃
2. “A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.” in an immortal!AU with Flip Zimmerman
She tells him, one day, that she has a secret.
He’s intruiged: smokes his cigarette out the back of the rundown bar and stubs it on the sidewalk with his foot. She was battered up - broken as he’d ever seen a cop. She shouldn’t be alive, after a crash like that.
So she tells him something he doesn’t quite believe.
“I can’t die.”
Flip chuffs, blowing out a lungful of smoke.
“Crash scrambled up your brain pretty hard, huh.”
He doesn’t believe her. Doesn’t know what to believe, right now: but certainly not this shit.
Just imagine his shock, one day when she’s covering him: and shit ends up on the receiving end of a bullet to the forehead. The damned thing goes right through, and Flip’s already losing his goddamn mind--
And then it pops out. Pops right back out, and the wound slowly starts to close over.
And the world changes.
She tells him stories - she’s seen wars like you’d never believe. Seen the world change, turning on its axis. He’s not a betting man, but if he were: he’d say she’s been alive for more than a millenium.
She likes the 70s, even if she liked the 1870s even more.
One day, they’re sitting on a bench together: Flip passes her his cigarette, and she takes a slow drag.
“So what: you’ve been alone? All that time?”
He can’t imagine that. Can’t imagine a girl like her ever had much trouble bringing men to their knees, no matter what time it was.
She smirks.
“A girl does get lonely. Forever’s awful long.”
And then - well, then she presses a quick peck to his lips.
Flip just freezes up for a moment; suspended in a second of her forever. The world drops to a quiet trill of birdsong, and she’s just staring at him, this beautiful look that just...
When his lips crush to hers again, his huge hands lean in to cup the planes of her jaw. Every part of her is beautiful - every part as moving as a summer’s breeze.
When they collide: it’s only for a moment.
And then?
Then, it’s forever.
#flip zimmerman#flip zimmerman x reader#immortal!au#blackkklansman#thirsty thursday#something different here#Anonymous#Mail
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Flip Zimmerman likes Rey, the tough crime reporter whose life he saved. Lucky for him, she'll him back...
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for the cinephile byler truthers. i made the party’s modern au letterboxd accounts
in my head mike wheeler is the film bro cinephile of the party. hes a big brad pitt fan and fincher is his favorite director if you even care.. dirty dancing would be in his top 4 if he was honest. he went to see dune cause hes a scifi nerd, ended up hating it so much and complained about it to will but still gave it 2 stars cause it was pretty. did leave a very mean review. very critical rater but mostly leaves high ratings because he just doesn’t watch things he doesnt wanna see.
alternative movies i considered putting: pulp fiction (5 stars), the killer (1 star), se7en (5 stars), across the spiderverse (5 stars), nope (5 stars) , the batman 2022 (4 stars), once upon a time in hollywood (5 stars), inglorious basterds (5 stars), the matrix (half a star)
the thing is so good and he has a poster of it on his wall in canon so it felt right. it just feels wrong not to do ghostbusters (plus its one of my favorite movies…) and yall need to hear me out on brokeback 😭😭😭 ur telling me he wouldnt bawl his eyes out??? ur wrong. will byers is a jake gyllenhaal lover. he watches dirty dancing a lot for mike, and loves ghibli movies a lot. he cried during rain man. honest rater but doesnt take it too seriously, mostly 4/5 star ratings
alternatives: saltburn (half a star), asteroid city (5 stars), blackkklansman (5 stars), the force awakens (3.5 stars), the perks of being a wallflower (4.5 stars), back to the future (5 stars)
rogue one because lucas has taste. its the best star wars movie, if u care. he would love how fun and goofy ghostbusters 2 is. in my head Wes Anderson is like the party’s claimed director and they all watch his movies together and do marathons because the weirdness, comedy, and emotional commentary is a perfect mix for them. so. bottle rocket. lucas’ favorite wes anderson is the grand budapest hotel if u wanted to know. he rates things pretty highly and isn’t super critical.
alternatives: dodgeball (5 stars), scream 5 (4 stars), the matrix (3 stars), good will hunting (5 stars), jurassic park (5 stars), die hard (5 stars),
likes making lucas watch gone girl on valentines day and telling him shes gonna do that to him next time he annoys her. v for vendetta is her favorite romance movie and shes a big marvel fan (in a cool way. kind of .) but thor ragnarok is probably one of her fav marvels, along with spiderman far from home and iron man. i just know she watches Casino Royale and decided she hated James Bond and then ended up watching all the Daniel Craig Bonds with Mike and loved Skyfall so much. the song is on her playlist and she did cry after No Time To Die.
Alternatives: Superbad (5 stars), baby driver (5 stars), bottoms (5 stars), 10 things i hate about you (3.5 stars), scream (5 stars), kill bill (5 stars), lord of the rings: the return of the king (1.5 stars)
also a bit of a film nerd. i considered giving him a star wars and i know in my heart he’d probably have empire somewhere in his top 4. but star wars is lame and i wanted to give him se7en so he fucking gets se7en. he knows john wick is objectively dumb but he doesnt care hes just here for a good time. the party probably watched saltburn together and all fucking hated it. I just know hes a kurosawa nerd and always goes when the local theatres do very rare special showings of his movies.
alternatives: baby driver (4 stars), the ewok adventure (5 stars) hot fuzz (5 stars) harry potter and the sorcerers stone (4 stars) legally blonde (5 stars) spirited away (5 stars) dazed and confused (5 stars)
she likes movies that make her feel all warm and fuzzy and hopeful. i wanted to give her breakfast club, but i think she’d honestly like sixteen candles more (even though breakfast club’s better). she cried at almost every movie in her top 4 and makes max rewatch juno with her like once a month. she gives most movies 5 stars unless she really hates them, and loves any movie thats fun to watch, even if its bad. she likes movies with pretty girls and fun colors.
alternatives: barbie (5 stars), legally blonde (5 stars), inception (2 stars), heathers (5 stars) pretty in pink (4.5 stars (she was mad andi didn’t end up with ducky)) my neighbor totoro (5 stars)
in conclusion if you haven’t seen They Cloned Tyron (2023) go watch it it deserved the oscar
#THIS ONES FOR YOU CINEPHILE ST FANS#this is so self indulgent#i love having fun#ive seen every movie on here so basically im 100% right and theres no room for critique#there should be more star wars. because theyre all nerd#but star wars is so dumb and i wanted to put movies that i like so#literally ignore how low quality the posters all are#i downloaded them directly from letterboxd so#slipped a couple of my niche faves in there#cinephile mike wheeler is real to me.#stranger things#byler#mike wheeler#will byers#max mayfield#lucas sinclair#dustin henderson#el hopper#cinephile byler#cinephile mike wheeler#the party#stranger things headcanons#the party headcanons#stranger things favorite movies#favorite movies#letterboxd#modern au#modern stranger things
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Ok but, werewolf!Flip lives in my mind rent free.
#literally#I didn’t even know about this concept until a week ago#but now#now it’s all I can think about#with his flannels#the FLANNELS THOUGH#just imagine they way they’d tear when he shifts#uGH#adam driver#flip zimmerman#werewolf!flip#adam driver fanfiction#werewolf au#blackkklansman
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smuggler au
#kylux#domhnall gleeson#adam driver#american made#blackkklansman#my gifs#my post#domhnall gleeson edits#adam driver edits#kylux edits#my aus#american made edits#blackkklansman edits
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The Crusade / Chpt. 4
For you, it’s a crusade. For me, it’s a job. Isn’t that what Flip had told Ron nearly a year ago? And now, here he is, his entire world turned on it’s head, smack dab in the middle of a crusade of his own.
A post-BlackKklansman fic in which Flip’s next major assignment is to infiltrate and uncover the inner workings of mob crime that’s moved into the Colorado Springs Area. He’d been ready for the drugs and the danger. What he hadn’t been ready for was you. This can also be found on AO3.
Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Mention of drug use
Template credit: cashwmere
“A fucking body guard, that’s what you want me to be?”
The door to Clyde’s office has just closed, your ass barely meeting the leather seat when Flip pushes back with a huff. You wait silently, a hand reaching for the pack of Nazionali cigarettes on the desk to retrieve one, putting it to your lips before lighting it with the nearby Zippo. A single brow raises in silent inquiry whilst you listen to Flip huff and puff about how he’s ‘not anyone’s fuckin’ body guard’.
There’s a slight curve to your lips while you inhale a puff of nicotine, the only sign that there’s any hint of amusement with regard to what you’re witnessing right now. Flip knows he’s got to play the part, got to do whatever’s asked of him, but this? He shakes his head, hand waving about animatedly as if to emphasize his point. “You’re underestimating my value to you.”
“Am I?” You’re quick to counter, both brows raising upward now, your eyes tracking him around the room as he paces. “Sit.” The stern tone to your voice leaves Flip with zero room for any sort of retort, the smoke from the cigarette that’s gripped between your fingers wafting towards the ceiling when you point with your index and middle fingers towards the two seats in front of the desk. Almost immediately, Flip’s steps halt, his gaze dropping down from you to the seats. He reaches for the one closest to him, scooting it out just enough to step around it, one hand reaching for the button of his jacket, undoing it just as he lowers himself down onto the chair.
Silence falls between the two of you, the only sound that can be heard in the room is that of you retrieving a cigarette from your pack to offer it up to Flip, the plastic covering of the pack crinkling against your fingers. He takes it from you, placing the butt of it between his lips. He leans in and you do the same, holding the flame of your Zippo up to help him ignite the end of his cigarette. Flip mutters a ‘thank you’ before leaning back into his seat. Metal thunks against the desk’s wooden top when you set the lighter aside, settling back into your chair to eye him up, the two of you allowing the silence to drag on longer as you both puff your way through your respective cigarettes, neither of you relenting.
It isn’t until Flip huffs a breath through his nose that you speak up. “The last thing that I am doing is underestimating you.”
“Oh? That so?” Careful, he thinks to himself. He can already tell by your expression that he’s pushed the boundaries too far. He’ll need to relax, let things take their course if he’s to finish this mission in one piece. His eyes follow the movement of your hand when the cigarette is pulled away from your mouth after inhaling another breath, smoke billowing from your lips as you tap the ash into the nearby ashtray.
You’re silent a minute longer, eyes assessing the man sitting before you, taking him in and deliberating how you’ll deliver these next words. “Don’t think of it as a bodyguard position, Vinnie. You’re essentially going to be my right hand man.”
Now this, this was the in that he needed.
He says nothing at first, instead, slowly nodding his head in understanding. “You don’t know me from Adam,” he retorts just before taking another drag of his cigarette.
Like him, you nod now, snuffing out your cigarette in the ashtray, perfectly manicured hand pushing the tray in his direction. “You’re right. I don’t. But, those goons in there,” you start, pointing in the direction of where the two of you’d come from earlier, “aren’t capable of walking without tripping over their own two feet. I wouldn’t trust them with the business if my life depended on it. Which, if this operation doesn’t get up and running successfully, it might very well. Besides…” You take a moment, crossing your legs beneath the desk, hands coming to lay on the armrests of the chair. “I just told you to jump, and you didn’t ask me how high. You just...did.”
There’s an iciness in your voice, one that settles itself into his bones, sends a chill up along his spine and sets the hair on the back of his neck upright, muscles tensing at the satisfied smile that stretches across your features.
Another long pause settles between the two of you, Flip now sucking on his cigarette again while you hold each other’s gazes. “Since you’re already on the clock—”
“Oh, am I?” The rhetorical question both cuts you off mid-sentence as well as elicits a daggered stare on your part. If looks could kill, Flip thinks to himself with only the most minute sliver of amusement.
“Yes,” you bite back, “you are.” Flip notices the way your index finger twitches against the arm of the chair with the agitation that courses through your veins, and yet you fail to do anything about that smart mouth of his.
Interesting.
He notes this bit of information, tucks it away in the back of his mind for future use. Perhaps he can use this little bit of knowledge to his advantage later should the need for it arise.
“As I was saying, there’s going to be a dinner here tonight. The restaurant’s shutting down early to accommodate. Consider it a meeting of clients old and new.” You fall silent again, taking a moment to assess him once more. This time, Flip is smart, his mouth is closed and he’s saying nothing, doing nothing other than smoking the last of his cigarette. “You’re going to accompany me. If I’m going to open this new business of mine up correctly, I’ll need all the help I can get, and you’ve found your way to the top of my list. Lucky you.”
The corners of Flip’s lips twitch up into the faintest smirk, and he leans forward to snuff out the cigarette stub in the offered ashtray that sits atop the desk. “What time do you need me to be there,” he asks, leaning back in his seat.
Your eyes shift from his face over to the small clock that sits on top of the desk next to a family photo that includes you, your father, mother, and siblings. “Seven-thirty, and not a second later.” Swinging your attention back to him, a single brow raised in challenge. “You got that?”
Flip’s head nods slowly. “Got it, boss.”
There’s an edge to his voice, one that teeters on sarcasm and makes your pulse jump with both irritation and…is that excitement? Perhaps that’s why you’d let him go on for so long, so brazenly cutting in when he’s meant to keep that mouth of his shut.
“Good. Now, go on. I’m sure my father and Pat aren’t quite done with you yet.” You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, allowing him to retreat back to the back room where the Craps game is still taking place, sans one participant.
In a handful of hours you’ll be face to face with Flip once more. From all outward appearances, he seemed plenty capable of doing this job, but the real test would come at tonight’s dinner.
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Tagging my fellow Flip loving friends!
@candycanes19, @gurl-ly, @duty-isnt-always-honour, @safarigirlsp, @mind-p0llution, @ellelaconiwrites, @lemonypink, @little-laamb, @suits-and-smirks, @thatgirl1782
If you’d like to be added to the tag list, give me a shout!
#The Crusade#Flip Zimmerman#Flip#Phillip Zimmerman#Flip x Reader#Flip Zimmerman x Reader#Phillip Zimmerman x Reader#mob!au#blackKklansman au#mafia!au#Crusade!Flip#mafia!reader#mob!reader
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uhhhhh wolf!flip / anthro flip…………
#redraw#tell me to stop drawing at 2am#please#flip zimmerman#adam driver#blackkklansman#very lazily coloured#wanna do Ron once I figure out#his uhh animal#send me some ideas maybe#scribbles#anthro!au
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hello ms. Zimmerman <3 how are you this fine evening? i have an idea for flip and his wife and kiddos. 'squishing the other’s cheek' after flip loses the game on familly game night and is grumpy, and his wife and kiddo are trying to cheer him up!
A/N: Omg I adored this prompt! Lol Flip really is such a sore loser, this request made me crack up. I hope that you enjoy this short and sweet little something!
1k, mentions of the zimmerman kiddos, fluff! (set in the Flip & His Darling Jewish Wife AU)
By all accounts, Sunday evenings should be nice evenings. You and Flip had decided a long time ago to try and do something fun with the kids, considering the day was always reserved for house cleaning and chores. Someone had suggested doing board game nights, and you had liked the idea, so that’s what you, your husband, and your gaggle of kids find yourselves up to this evening.
Sitting in the living room, everyone is cozied up in their pajamas with a couple boxes of pizza practically empty off to the side, as the coffee table is covered with scraps of paper, little metal pieces, and of course, the board. And as per usual, when Flip rolls the dice and takes his turn, he throws his hands up in the air with a scowl that has the kids laughing, because they know what’s coming.
“I fuckin’ hate this,” He starts in a way that you can almost bet money on, “You’re such a fuckin' cheater, you know that?”
“Someone’s being a sore loser.” You tease in a sing-song voice, the kids already rolling their eyes and grinning at their father’s theatrics.
“Why do I agree to this shit, no one ever plays fair, that isn't right you know, you're teaching our kids to cheat.” He points a finger in your direction, and now the kids turn to look at you, wondering how you’ll react to the accusation.
“How do you expect any of us to cheat at Monopoly honey? It's not my fault you landed on Boardwalk.” You reply, making the kids all swivel their head, this dance that they know so well will usually end up in a very funny display of their usually calm cool reserved Pop absolutely losing it.
“I don’t know how you do it! But I know you do. All of you conspire against me, I’m sure of it.” Flip mutters and scowls at his children -- his eldest son, daughter, and then the triplets -- and they take mock offense to the claim (even though usually, he’s right) before dissolving into a fit of loud giggles when he frowns, “Don’t laugh at me, it’s bad enough I’m losing!”
“Would a kiss make it better?” You offer in a teasingly condescending tone, because Flip sounds like he’s about to throw a tantrum.
“No.” He shoots back from the other side of the coffee table, crossing his arms in front of his chest, which only slightly jostles one of the triplets, who has settled himself on Flip’s lap.
“Are you sure?” You ask, and now all the kids are looking at him, and he blushes a deep crimson at that, at being so under scrutiny by his children. They’re definitely yours, he thinks, so nosy.
“...Well it couldn’t hurt.” Flip decides, and you grin, gently patting two of your daughters who had snuggled up on either side of you so that they get the hint to move so you can lean across the coffee table.
Flip stretches himself to meet you halfway, and you grasp both of his cheeks in your palms and give him a chaste kiss right on the lips, a playful smacking sound that has your youngest ones giggling.
“Did it help?” You ask, fully aware of how silly this situation is, and Flip only rolls his eyes.
“I don’t know. I think I need another one.” He tries, but before he can kiss you again on the lips, his eldest son, your six year old, immediately pipes up from his spot on the couch.
“Can I try? I want to try!” He asks eagerly, at that age where all he wants to do is help with whatever he possibly can.
“Give him a big one right on the cheek.” You smile and nod, encouraging him to walk around the coffee table.
Flip bends down so that his son can reach his cheek, and much like you did, he squishes Flip’s face and leaves a smacking smooch right on one of Flip’s dimples, because really, how could Flip not smile at the wide eyed boy?
“Did it help, Pop?” He asks, waiting with bated breath for the answer, as if this were the most important thing he’s ever done in his very young life.
“It sure did, zeeskeit, thank you.” Flip ruffles his hair, and your son happily bounds back to his spot on the couch.
“My turn!” One of the triplets announces, and you and Flip exchange an amused glance. Of course the siblings couldn’t just be left out, even for something so simple as trying to cheer up their mostly playing grouch of a father.
“Wait no, it’s my turn! I want to help!” Your eldest daughter frowns, assertive in the way that you just know she’s going to take on the world.
“No, me!” Two of the other triplets say at the same time, and you realize that if you don’t get things under control, Sunday night will go from fun board games to a brawl.
“Alright one at a time, make sure to give Pop’s face a good squeeze when you do it.” You interject with laughter in your voice, reaching for the 35mm camera silently as your children practically line up.
One by one, they squeeze Flip’s face and give him a kiss on the cheek, and you discreetly snap a couple photos for the memory albums. After all of your children have had their turn, everyone settles back down on their spots in the living room; your eldest son on the couch, your other son on Flip’s lap, and your daughters snuggled up against your sides.
“Better?” You ask, now that he has been practically smothered with silly affection by a gang of happy toddlers.
“Yeah.” Flip admits, much to the satisfaction of his family.
“Good.” You smile, pleased that this particular interlude has come to its end, so that you can get back to the matter at hand. Flip had made his move, and he had moved his piece, and landed on one of your properties, which meant, “Now, I believe you owe me two thousand dollars.”
It was all you and your family could do but to laugh, when Flip realizes he was actually in the middle of losing Monopoly, and shouts, “God dammit!”
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Tagging some Flip loving friends!
@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @miabelay11 @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @canikeepitonplease @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @sweetlyours @mrs-gucci @baubub @bucky-j-barnes @mindyoshiii
#flip zimmerman#flip zimmerman x reader#flip zimmerman/reader#flip zimmerman x you#flip zimmerman fluff#adam driver fanfic#adcu#blackkklansman#flip and his darling jewish wife au#yes we have a lot of kids no i will not accept constructive criticism about it lol
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