#blackkklansman imagines

[multific]

His World

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Summary: When your husband arrives home later and later you start to suspect he might be cheating on you.

Flip has been gone a lot lately. Like a lot lot.

You were used to him arriving home late, him not arriving home at all, but he would always make up for it the next day. He would arrive home with the most beautiful flowers, kiss you on the cheek and keep you busy all night long.

But that just stopped.

All of that.

Flip became cold and even rude at times. You tried to understand, you truly did. He had a difficult and stressful job, you were there when he cracked the KKK, you were there through all his struggles, but something changed.

"You cooked dinner? It looks like shit." he said one day. "Maybe you should get a job instead of staying home all day." was another punch to the gut, and just as you were about to hug him to sleep, "Don't." and he pulled away, turning his back and lately, he even slept on the couch instead of staying with you.

You tried to talk to the others at the police station, but nothing.

He didn't have a major case, he was working on small things and doing mainly normal detective and cop things.

But then why?

Why did he pull away when you tried to hug him? Why did he refuse to look at you? Why would he rather sleep on the couch than in his own bed?

And then, as if a train hit you, you realized that he might have found someone else.

You two were only married for a short period of time, maybe he just doesn't want to say anything.

But... it didn't make sense to you.

Flip claimed he love you to death. He was desperate to get married to you. All he could talk about is putting a ring on your finger and then giving you a family.

So, what changed?

You went to buy groceries, trying to figure out what to do for your birthday.

But all you could think about, 'Who is she?'

Who was the person to steal your husband away? Who was the person that kept him from you?

You wanted to know, you needed to know.

Images of your husband sleeping with another woman completely clouded your mind. That's all you could think about even if she was faceless and nameless. Could it be the new woman who moved in a couple houses away? The blonde one? Or Mrs Wheeler? She is all you could think about, her fictional presence filled up your mind too much, it stopped you from doing basic tasks at times, not like he noticed that there was no dinner.

You tried to seduce him, waiting for him in skimpy clothes, cooking a romantic dinner for your birthday, but when he got home,

"Are you going out?" is all you got before he moved to shower and sleep.

A couple days later, the doctor called you, he wanted to take a blood sample as it seemed like there was something on your most recent paper.

You didn't even tell Flip, not like he cared.

And so, you went, a couple of days passed after, and you got another call.

"Good afternoon." said the kind receptionist through the phone. "I'm calling you regarding the tests we did last week. Congratulations Mrs Zimmerman, you are eight weeks pregnant!"

Pregnant?

Eight weeks?

You remember that night faintly, one of the last times you were intimate with your husband.

How can you be?

You didn't notice the signs, your mind was filled with the neglect you felt from your husband.

How would you tell him? He wouldn't even listen to a single thing you would say?

You cried, that's all you could do, cry, because you were so scared.

You thought long and hard about how to tell him during the next couple days, you even had to go back to the doctor, your baby was healthy.

But Flip didn't even know about it.

He continued to sleep on the couch as you cried upstairs.

Then weeks passed.

When you were nearing the end of your first trimester is when you really tried to tell him. Went to him when he was eating in the kitchen, late at night.

"You should be asleep, why are you up?"

"I need to talk to you, Flip."

"Another time, I'm tired."

And your first trimester ended, you started to show, you were careful with the dresses you wore. And one day, as you were walking back to your car from the store you caught a glimpse of yourself in the window of a store, seeing yourself being so sad, while this should be one of the happiest times in your life was the final draw.

Fuck it, if you have to raise a child alone, still better than this hell you were in.

So, that night, when Flip surprisingly arrived home early, you let him eat. You waited for him in the living room and as he rounded the couch to go upstairs, you had enough.

“Was she worth it?”

Your teeth clenched as you said the words you’d been dying to say to him for weeks now, but his reaction was not one you imagined when you played this in your head.

Flip stood by the stairs, one hand on the railing, ready to go up as he looked at you sitting in front of him in your favourite chair. The book in your lap is long forgotten.

He looked like a deer in the headlights but there was not an inch of guilt or surprise on his face. He didn't look like someone who was caught. He looked beyond confused.

His brows rose then knitted together in confusion as his eyes raked over your face looking for any explanation, the detective in him and the gears in his head turning to try and understand what you just meant.

Was he playing dumb or was he truly confused? You weren't even sure yourself. He must be one fucking amazing actor.

Or could it be that Flip thinks you are too dumb to figure something like this out on your own and was now in shock that you did?

Whatever it was it brought out the worst in you fueled by annoyance and frustration.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"What do I mean Flip? I mean if your little whore is worth ruining your marriage for? I mean if that woman is worth that I'm on the brick of leaving and you will never even see your own child! WAS SHE WORTH IT PHILIP?" you threw your book away.

Again, the same confusion, eyes moving on your face trying to figure it out. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Oh, you don't, do you? Why did you even marry me if you don't love me? You could have come to me, we could have talked it out, but no, instead you fell into another woman. And now, I demand to know if she was worth it, Philip." you felt like crying, sadness and anger consumed you.

"Will you just- I'm not having an affair." his hand came off the railing as he crossed them over his chest.

"Sure you don't. You arrive home late, you are incredibly rude to me, I can't even ask you to take me to the doctor's, you sleep on the fucking uncomfortable couch AND the biggest fucking punch to the gut, you are not wearing your ring."

You noticed that before the doctor even called you, you found it under the sink when you were cleaning.

"I lost it in the sink, didn't want to tell you because we cannot afford a new one."

You shook your head, you wanted to laugh as you stood up.

"I just...I give up, Flip. I don't know what else to do, what else to say or try. I'm going to leave you but before I do, I'm fourteen weeks pregnant, so congratulation to you Mr Zimmerman, you knocked me up and ruined me." you smiled at him as his eyes went wide, and you felt a tear run down your cheek but you whipped it off. He took a couple of steps towards you, you moved backwards, not letting him come close.

"Baby, why didn’t you tell me sooner?" his voice changed, as if the old Flip was talking to you but no, you didn't let that affect you.

"I tried, you ignored me. You were too busy fucking your little whore to see the signs!"

"I am NOT cheating on you. I understand why you would say that I am but I'm NOT." you shook your head again and laughed.

"Sure. And I didn't just go through the worst weeks of my life. You forgot my birthday, I dressed up for you, I cooked your favourites every day. I'm so stressed out, I cry too much, the doctor said I needed to be in a calm environment because that's the best for the baby but, Flip, you are killing me." your sad voice, tears woke something in him. Something that he hasn't felt in a long time.

"I wanted to get a promotion at work so I worked my ass off. I slept on the couch because I needed to concentrate on this. I want to get a better salary so I can buy us a bigger house. I'm so sorry I was rude to you, Honey. I was so stressed out, everyone at work has a nice house or car and I have this dump to show and that awful truck. I spent all my savings on your ring and our wedding. I want to give you a better life. I swear I'm not cheating on you with anyone. I love you." He was so calm as he explained. Eyes filled with regret.

It made sense, it really did. It made a lot more sense than a faceless lover.

"Flip..." you didn't know what to say, you now realized just how awful the things you just said sounded, like a jealous woman. It was your turn to look like a deer in headlights.

"I understand why you'd think I have someone, but I really don't. I love you, I just worked my ass off at work. I took as many small cases I could so I could get higher."

He took another step and when you didn't move away this time, he went to you and cupped your cheek with his hands as he kissed your lips.

"I'm so sorry." you said but he shook his head.

"I should apologize, this should have been avoided if I only explained everything to you instead of shutting you out, we are married after all."

He pulled you in for a hug as you moved your hands around his middle. He was stupid, he could have just said something, this was his fault, but you shouldn't have overreacted.

"I love you too." you said as he tightened his grip.

"I'm almost there, I know it."

"Will you move back to our bed please?"

"Yes." he kissed your head. "Are you really-?" he asked but as he moved his hand to your stomach he felt it. His eyes widened as he looked at you.

"You are going to be a father so you will need to talk to me more, Flip."

"Oh, Darling. I love you." he kissed your lips. "This is the best news. Better than any promotion could ever be." another kiss. "I promise I will tell you everything from now on."

You smiled, oh how he missed your smile and you nodded, leaning up to kiss him this time.

Everything went back to normal, as it should be and as it should have been.

Your belly grew with each day, and soon the doctor told you the news that you are having a girl, Flip was over the moon.

Then he even got his well-deserved promotion.

You two were ready to move into a nice house.

Life was good because you woke up every morning to him holding you like you meant the world to him, and you did.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @liveforkarljacobs

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

#flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman imagines #flip zimmerman x oc #flip zimmerman x y/n #blackkklansman #blackkklansman imagine #blackkklansman imagines #blackkklansman x reader #blackkklansman fanfic #adam driver character #adam driver character x reader

[oraclechats]

I'M BACK. Life swept me away but I'm slowly listening to the eps I'm missing. Just finished the BorRap ep and I have some thoughts. First of all, I think that movie is terrible. It's bad. I saw it in theatre with my friends and I walked away thinking, eh-whatever. But I have to give the movie some merits because it did pull me in starting from the second act and I was very hyped when the First Aid scene came on. However, it's definitely super mid, verging toward terrible. So, secondly, imagine my fucking surprise when it was nominated for Best Picture. I was like, haha this is a prank, only to check the official website and see it there. HOLY shit, my jaw hit the floor. Did the US run out of movies that year for Best Picture???? Like, was there really no other movies that can take BorRaph's spot????? I had a moment just staring at the screen of my laptop and felt like I was in the Twillight Zone. (I can see Rami being nominated for Best Lead Actor tho, he was really good so I understand the nomination)

Thirdly, I caught wind of the BorRap fandom. I was taking a break from tumblr then, but it was kinda growing on twitter, that even tho I was in a very very different fandom space, I heard about it. Now hearing what I'm hearing from the podcast, quite eye-opening lmao. Like, when you discussed the fanfics... I was screaming in my head hahahahaha

Fourth, I have seen the 911 BoB/TP fic... and just not gonna click on it. Life's too short and all that.

it's especially egregious given the fact that that year was so stacked with movies that were Literally eons better than Bohemian Rhapsody. i was Literally just yelling about how that was supposed to be the year of BlacKkKlansman and instead it got double teamed by both Greenbook and BoRhap and it's truly the most disappointing shit in the world. like we can make the case rami Was the best performance in the category at the oscars but idek if I believe that anymore, given the fact that Vice was a movie i detested and Bale was still acting circles around Rami like staring wide-eyed at shit for two hours straight. not to Mention Bradley Cooper, who campaigned way too hard for Best Director when had he focused harder on trying to get Best Actor he would have been a shoo-in, and A Star is Born is Regrettably a movie that gets better every year in a way that BoRhap decidedly does not.

the globes are a joke at the best of times so the wins that night were pretty alright, but that Best Picture win and then subsequent oscar nom are just.....that chaps my ass my dudes. whole ass movie could have been written on a cocktail napkin like Showgirls (which is actually Way more fun to watch than BoRhap) 😘💃

and in regards to That 9/11 fic.....stay tuned lol

#also honey First Aid i'm obsessed but it Was Live Aid lol #a metaphor for just how forgettable that film ended up being #soundtrack though is nice lol

[ocelotegg]

help. i finally watched spike lee's blacKkKlansman last night and i loved it so today i went on here and searched it up looking for gifsets or something. the results are almost ALL sexual fanfictions and imagines about a character from the supporting cast

#post #just absolutely bizarre #search up the tag if you dont believe me #this is the website ever for sure

[ao3feed-janefoster]

Call for Requests | Fanfictions

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/wOPUf0C

by CatchYouInTheRye

I want to write more for direct requests I get, since they often drive me in a new direction - which is exciting. It can be any situation you imagine, certain smutty stuff etc. etc. All is welcome!

Words: 110, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: House M.D., Star Wars - All Media Types, Criminal Minds (US TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), NCIS, White Noise (2022), Marriage Story (2019), BlacKkKlansman (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Fire Emblem Series

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other

Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Jane Foster (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steven Grant (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, James "Bucky" Barnes, Steve Rogers, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau, Jason Gideon, Luke Alvez (Criminal Minds), Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Rey (Star Wars), Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Din Djarin, Jethro Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Ziva David, Timothy McGee, Abby Sciuto, Gregory House, Lisa Cuddy, James Wilson (House M.D.), Allison Cameron, Robert Chase, Eric Foreman (House M.D.), Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Upgraded Connor | RK900, Flip Zimmerman, Charlie Barber, Jack Gladney

Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Thor (Marvel)/Reader, Jane Foster (Marvel)/Reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Reader, Stephen Strange/Reader, Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Spencer Reid/Reader, Emily Prentiss/Reader, Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Reader, Anakin Skywalker/Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, Padmé Amidala/Reader, Jethro Gibbs/Reader, Anthony DiNozzo/Reader, Greg House/Reader, James Wilson (House M.D.)/Reader, Upgraded Connor | RK900/Reader, Charlie Barber/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You, Wanda Maximoff/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader

Additional Tags: Reader-Insert, One Shot Collection

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/wOPUf0C

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #jane foster

[destinyc1020]

Have you watched Blackkklansman? I think JDW is great in it

Well see, that's the thing! That's what's so crazy lol. Coz yea, I actually LIKED JDW in Blackkklansman! That's why I was so excited to see him in TENET!

It was a great cast, and Christopher Nolan is one of my favorite directors lol. 😂 So imagine my surprise when I watched the movie and was like.....

For some reason, he seemed to do a better job in Blackkklansman to me. 👀

[0firstlast1]

A cinema moment, in the capitalist massacre:

| Questions and Answers based on this publication:

Q: Have you seen and heard the films mentioned in this publication? A: Yes, on TV.

Q: Have you experienced anything the same or similar to what was shown in those films? A: Not the same, nor similar, I remained on the periphery of what was shown.

If I still remember, in 1984 the narcoguerrilla was a topic, whether or not it was revolutionary, no, it was not revolutionary, a drug dealer is an adventurous capitalist who only thinks about the profit that the illegal drug trade will generate for him to have a playboy life.

And if a woman is beautiful, then why is she in prostitution? My thoughts on the subject have always been the same, imagining, thinking, and putting into practice are three distinct subjects. In relation to ten months, a number analogous to a real relationship and a relationship that never existed and two impeachments, I sporadically attended professionally that temple of capitalism with a sign with initials and numbers, scrolling horizontally and vertically in graphs, and I have never witnessed anything that was similar to what was shown in that film, and also in other similar films, but the opposite of that, the person enters after authorization from top to bottom, but not to consume a Happy Moment Kit.

In the mid-nineties I made a book cover for a publisher that published books apparently about masonic indoctrination, the content of the book, which I only discovered after the book was published, it was very much in tune with the KKK supremacist rituals shown in the film BlacKkKlansman, I never wanted to be a KKK, much less be a general secretary of a KKK branch, go grow beets.

So far I have never been kidnapped, but if I were, no one would pay my ransom, and if the Armed Forces were contacted by mistake, they would say that it is the police's responsibility to free me, not to kidnap me to capitalize on resources for the evangelical mayor's election campaign, and as retaliation for the impeachment of the playboy former president of the republic, BR.

Q: Would you like to mention any music to end this very short interview based on self-management? A: I will not mention the extinct Libertação Radical nor the extinct PASSEATAS, two groups from my supremacist legacy, nor will I mention Aerosmith, nor Sepultura, or any other name that recalls mass culture, therefore: Ultraje a Rigor - Inútil. Paralamas do Sucesso - Inútil.

Q: Until the next? A: Until the next!

#0firstlast1 #Authorial Human Intelligence #Beige Lives Matter #TV #Tumblr.com #Blogger.com

[denimbex1986]

'Direct Spike Lee thinks highly of Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer, though he does have one major criticism. Kicking off his career with his 1986 breakout hit She’s Gotta Have It, Lee is known for his socially-conscious films like Do the Right Thing, BlacKkKlansman, and Malcolm X. Beginning his feature film career over a decade later with 1998’s Following, Nolan has become a blockbuster film director, helming The Dark Knight trilogy, Interstellar, and most recently the box office-breaking biopic Oppenheimer.

While Lee has positive things to say about Oppenheimer, the director also has one major critique. Speaking with The Washington Post, Lee commented that he “would like to add some more minutes about what happened to the Japanese people.” Lee pointed out the long-term effects that “dropping these two nuclear bombs on Japan” had on its citizens, and would have appreciated an effort by Nolan to explore this despite Oppenheimer still being a “great film.” Check out the full quote from Lee below:

“And Chris Nolan with ‘Oppenheimer,’ you know, he’s a massive filmmaker. Great film. I showed [‘Dunkirk’] in my class. And this is not a criticism. It’s a comment. How long was [‘Oppenheimer’]? If it’s three hours, I would like to add some more minutes about what happened to the Japanese people. People got vaporized. Many years later, people are radioactive. It’s not like he didn’t have power. He tells studios what to do. I would have loved to have the end of the film maybe show what it did, dropping those two nuclear bombs on Japan.”

“Understand, this is all love. And I bet he could tell me some things he would change about ‘Do the Right Thing’ and ‘Malcolm X.'”

Why Spike Lee is Right About Oppenheimer

At a staggering three-hour run time, it would seem that Oppenheimer did not have a lot of space to add more content. However, the narrative of Oppenheimer does not end with the bombs. Rather, it explores the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki filtered only through the lens of J. Robert Oppenheimer’s trauma. Oppenheimer imagines burned-up bodies, but Oppenheimer as a film stays within his psyche and does not do anything in the way of portraying actual Japanese people.

Neglecting run time to the effect on Japan is not the only notable omission in Oppenheimer. In constructing Trinity in the middle of the desert, the real characters behind Oppenheimer displaced indigenous people and moved them next to a toxic nuclear test site. As a result, these Native American people were also “radioactive” many years later. Oppenheimer makes only a brief mention of the “Indians” who lived there during Trinity’s construction.

When evaluating the film’s merits, it is important to acknowledge the way that Oppenheimer circumvents problematic aspects of history. While Oppenheimer still presents a historically-based narrative of complex and flawed morality, it still does so while eschewing the conversation of two groups of people that were majorly affected. Oppenheimer has received critical acclaim, so the fact that prominent talents like Lee are calling it out is a productive way for its narrative faults to be called out.'

#Spike Lee #Oppenheimer #Christopher Nolan #The Dark Knight Trilogy #Malcolm X #Do The Right Thing #Following #Interstellar #Dunkirk

[bubblyani]

Overtime

(Flip Zimmerman x Reader)

A Flip Zimmerman One Shot

Rating: Mature

Request : May I make a request? If you say no that’s just fine! But maybe Flip Zimmerman and the new secretary at the station?@lemonypink

Author’s Note: I could picture this in the movie hahah. Anyways I hope y’all enjoy this.

Tagging: @meta-human-of-221b-ravenclaw

“Y/N! Need a copy of this report please!”

“Sure thing!”

“Hey! Is my handwriting sloppy ? I’ve always wanted to know”

“Well all I will say is ...maybe try writing slower”

“Argh! knew it”

You were full of soft giggles as you typed away in your typewriter. The phone rang with much gusto until you finally picked it up.

“Colorado Springs PD, how may I help you?...” you answered. With habit, you quickly took your notepad with one hand as you listened to the caller, “Uh huh...” you muttered, whilst writing down, “...sure. I will relay the message to him. Thank you for calling!” You said before you hung up.

Apart from the nonstop sounds of countless typewriters being utilized across the whole room, your ears were always brimming with requests, inquiries and complaints from all. Be it officers, detectives and civilians. Why wouldn’t it be? You were a secretary in the Intelligence Division. 

Being mostly surrounded by the detectives in the precinct, you were in the company of quite an interesting bunch.

“Y/N?” Especially One person in particular. “Yes Flip?”

Cheerfully, you greeted. Wearing one of his signature flannel shirts, Detective Flip Zimmerman stood in front of your desk there with his partner Jimmy Creek. “...Could you help me draft a letter to the sergeant, please?”

“Sure thing Flip...” you said, flipping into a new page in the notepad, “I’m just gonna need some details” you continued, “What is this pertaining to?”

“It’s about my resignation”

The pen suddenly dropped out of your hand.

“Your WHAT??“ You yelled out. Never did you think you’d be this loud as you were just now.

Finally unable to contain himself, Jimmy burst into laughter, forcing Flip and the others to join him. Upon realizing their scheme, you scowled.

“Not funny gentlemen” you said sternly, getting up from your chair. “Awww...you should have seen the look on your face” “Well, good for you Jimmy!” You said sarcastically, with your arms folded, watching Jimmy reenact your reaction to the rest of the gang. Shaking your head, you smiled eventually, finding the humor in the situation as you sat down. These men may be detectives, but the inner child had never left their bodies. “Sorry about that” Flip said softly, making you realize he was still standing by your desk. He sounded remorseful, you could tell from his voice. “It’s alright” you replied with a chuckle , before you began to type again.   “Didn’t think you’d be so surprised though” he said, watching you work while casually leaning against the desk. “No it’s just-” looking up, you quickly paused upon seeing his face, “....well you’re a good detective. And...it would be a mighty shame to see you go” you said.

“Thanks” With his eyes never leaving yours, he headed over to his own desk.

When it came to the matters of a criminal investigation, withholding information was a resounding no. But when it came to the matters of your heart, you knew it was best to withhold the most intimate details that lingered within. Especially when those details included your deep, affectionate feelings towards Flip Zimmerman.

It was obvious, You were drawn to him from the very first day. Being the first one you’ve encountered in Colorado Springs PD, he left a lasting impression. You could never forget that first day.

“Why are you staring like that?” He said that day, upon finding your eager eyes staring at the Colorado Springs PD signboard outside the building. Blushing with embarrassment, you struggled to answer. “It’s just that...I’ve never worked for Police before. It’s just unbelievable”  You remembered yourself mutter shyly, looking at the tall figure next to you. “Well...believe it. You’re one of us now”He said, before walking away. 

You remembered that small smile he gave. The way he made you feel inclusive with just one line. And the way he looked out for you in the precinct without making you feel you were a pity party.

The silent working hours allowed you to appreciate the handsome man he was. The flannel, the hair, the mustache certainly grew on you, to the point where maintaining eye contact was a difficult task. Possible but difficult. 

Jimmy’s laughter did not seem to fade, causing Rookie detective Ron Stallworth to enter the room with curiosity.

“Morning Everyone” he said looking around.

“Ron...” Jimmy cried out, “...you just missed something hilarious” he said, still in the midst of sniggers. Ron looked quite confused.

“Really?” He asked with a chuckle, “And what is that?”

“My embarrassment...”You answered, shaking your head, inciting more laughter from everyone in the room. 

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

“You always have it up”

“Huh?”

Confused, you looked at Flip from your desk. Running his fingers through his raven hair, his inquisitive expression remained unchanged.

“Your hair...” he said, “It’s always up. Why?”

Feeling your high hair bun on the back of your head, you understood what he meant.

“Well...It’s proper. Isn’t it?” You said.

Being in a workplace, you never intended to look like a distraction. For it was easier to be one as a woman. So you wanted to be far from one. Hair bun, white shirt tucked in a navy blue skirt, you were the definition of proper.

“Y/L/N...” Sergeant Trapp came out of his office. You liked Trapp. He was kind to you. 

“I know this isn’t your usual rodeo but...do you mind staying back tonight for some overtime? Gotta hell a lot of paperwork to finish up”

“Of course sir...” you answered in an instant. You’d rather slave away and finish up the work than leave it hanging for later.

And so you did. Two hours into overtime, you noticed the detectives haven’t left office. Huddled around Stallworth’s desk, Zimmerman, Creek and Trapp were engaged in a serious conversation while Ron was on the phone. From the chatter collected in the room, you were well informed of the current investigation about the clan, the organization. You could not forget Ron’s daring attempt that started the case, and grouped the detectives together. 

“Oh Mr. Duke I’m so glad you asked” Ron said out loud, as he played his redneck persona, “What happened that day, it just boils my blood just thinking about it. Who do those colored folk think they are? Am I right?” Watching the others laugh silently, you could not help but stifle a grin.

“My sister?”

Ron began, suddenly in the mist of thinking, “Pamela? Oh she’s doing great ...” he said, making you furrow your brows with confusion, “In fact, she is dying to talk to you, Sir!” Just like the others, you were very confused. Even more so when Ron was looking directly at you. “You would?” He said, “Aww that would be mighty kind of you sir, let me just grab her” Covering the phone, he sat up, forcing everyone to direct their attention to you.

“Get over here” he mouthed at you. Your eyes widened.

“What?” You mouthed back. Snapping his finger, Flip finally understood what Ron was trying to do. You finally got up as you watched him walk towards you.

“Do it!” Flip said softly.

“Do what?” You asked with genuine confusion while walking with him to Ron’s desk.

“Come on! We’ve seen you do that impression” Ron whispered. He was right. To kill boredom, you would occasionally do an impression of Pamela, Ron’s imaginary sister who claimed to have been accosted by coloreds. You only did it for fun. Never did you think for once it was an audition, and now you were offered the part.

“What? But that’s just crazy” you said.

“This...would be perfect for us. This is gonna help us a lot” Flip said, looking at you. His words did not pressure you. Instead they gently convinced you to see the logic behind all this. Ron’s eyes gleamed as you sighed and took the phone.   “H-Hello?” You answered with a raised voice, “Oh my word...is this really Mr. Duke?” You feigned surprise, letting out an excited laughter. You played along in this game with an unexpected confidence. And Duke seemed to have bought it “Can I just say what an honor it is to hear your voice, Sir!”

Excitement was evident in Ron’s face, while the Sergeant looked surprised. But none of that mattered to you when you saw Flip’s look of admiration, hidden in his face in the form of a small smile.

Grabbing the phone from you, Ron gave you a thumbs up, as he continued the conversation.“Mr. Duke, this is Ron again...” he began, “As much as my sister would love to talk, she’s busy making dinner. Hehe...yes sir...” he said, his voice growing softer “... women sure do belong in the kitchen”

He added, shooting a teasing look at you, watching you roll your eyes and the others silently snigger. But halfway through, you saw Ron’s eyes widen.

“Oh! Really?” He said, “Wow I’d be honored sir. Thank you! Alright, You have a lovely evening too”

Hanging up, everyone held their breath until he finally spoke.

“Well...the big guy’s even more impressed, thanks to you” he said, pointing at you, “...Walter’s gonna give me a call with the meeting details for tonight...Flip, get ready for a Cross Burning” Ron said, setting his gaze over at Zimmerman, who merely nodded. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Y/N...what are you still doing here? Go home. I’ll drop you“

Jimmy may have teased you earlier, but he always had cared for you like a sibling. Hence he was surprised to still find you at the office around midnight.

“No Jim it’s okay...” you said, whilst stifling a yawn, “...got some reports to finish up anyway”

Truthfully, with your experience, finishing up paperwork was easy as pie. But the reason that kept you from leaving had no relation to any form of paperwork whatsoever.

With Flip and Ron out meeting the clan for the Cross Burning, you could not help but worry for Flip’s safety. Tonight especially, more than you ever did before.

Sure, Ron would be there to look out, for him. You knew he had his back. But worrying was never correlated with logic.

With Paperwork completed, You searched for petty excuses to hang around. Anything to keep yourself occupied until you could see him walk in through the door, alive and well.

With your eyelids getting heavy, you were tempted to close them, drifting into sleep. Maybe just 10 minutes, you thought. With your head on the table, you let the exhaustion take charge. 

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

The subtle creaking noises of furniture woke you. Opening your eyes slowly, you sensed that morning had dawned already. The office was empty.

And Flip was standing before you. 

Relief washing over you like cool water over one’s face, you quickly covered  your mouth to wipe away any form of saliva you had. Embarrassingly, you greeted him with a sleepy smile. “The burning went well I’m guessing?”

“Yep...” he said, “although too much burning for my taste”

You sniffed the hot coffee in the air, which got stronger as he handed you a cup full of it.

“Figured You’d need a good wake up” he said, as you accepted it. “Yeah I do, with the accidental sleeping” you chuckled, taking a sip.

“Yeah, plus you...snore” Flip said, finally giving up to sniggers. You dropped your jaw in shock. “What? I do? Oh no...”You cried out frustratingly, laughing alongside him,  “...was I loud ?” You asked in a whisper.

“No...” he said, sitting on your desk, “...of course not”

“Oh good” Shaking your head in disbelief, you casually took off the hairpins off your messy head, letting the cascade of hair flow over your shoulders.

“Wait...” Flip said, “...you got uh...” Reaching out, he casually brushed a strand of hair off your face, which did not alarm you. For all the times you’ve waited for him to do this, you were secretly ecstatic. The moment eyes locked in each other’s, his hand did not leave. Instead his thumb grazed over your left temple. The way he stopped by your cheek, seemed to be a physical way of seeking permission. And your unaffected silence was your consent.

His touch comforted you, and for a man of his stature he was as gentle as he could be. As much as you were silent and welcoming, you wanted to make your intentions clearer. You took a daring risk the moment thumb brushed over your mouth. Pressing your lips against his finger, you embraced it with adoration, making sure he could feel it to the inner core.

And within seconds, your risk was deemed worthy the moment he moved towards you, quickly kissing you on the lips.

A sense of unrealized fulfillment came over you as you kissed Flip Zimmerman. You were excited, invigorated and intoxicated at the same time.

Pulling away, deep breaths were exchanged as foreheads were placed together. “Pretty...” Flip blurted out shyly, “....you look pretty with your hair down” he said, with his fingers tangled in your loose hair. You chuckled. “Thanks...” you said, placing the coffee cup on the table, “....you should see me in my normal clothes..” you joked, “I look much better “ you added with a smile. Flip’s eyes grew warm.

“Yeah I should...” He smiled back, “...maybe when we grab a bite sometime...”

Overjoyed, you kissed him once again with even more enthusiasm, grateful for the overtime work shift that made all this possible. ——————————————————

https://bubblyani.tumblr.com/post/190893189313/driver-masterlist

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#adam driver #flip zimmerman imagines #flip zimmerman x reader #blackkklansman #flip zimmerman x woc reader #blackkklansman imagines #adam driver x reader #adam driver fanfics #adam sackler #kylo ren #star wars #ben solo

[amara-scott]

Halloween

Movie: Blackkklansman Characters: Phil Zimmerman x Reader Categories: M’sorry this is long, everything? lil smutty at the end

So, yes- I may get a little more excited for unimportant holidays than the usual American citizen should. But does that mean others have to be cranky or a grump? No. Why not just go with the flow and enjoy some free candy?

"Okay- I get that you don't like it, but what's your costume going to be?" I ask Zimmerman as I sit on his desk at work, looking through a catalogue of adult costumes. Extremely boring ones, might I add. The ones you see in every store and every commercial.

I hear his sigh and glance over the edge of the current page. He rolls his eyes, not looking up from the paper he's reading. Jimmy laughs behind me, Ron joining in. I give them a grin, like every year, I love teasing poor Phil.

"Not happening this year." He mumbles, taking a sip of his coffee, grimacing afterwords. Probably already cold. I hop off his desk and take the mug.

"I'll give you time to think while I get you a fresh, hot coffee—" I walk out the office, patting his shoulder as I go and make out Ron who can't contain his snickering. He receives a glare from Flip but no further comment. I hurry and greet a couple guys in the kitchen.

"Flip! Hey, I have an idea guys. Since it's my turn to host the dinner, we'll all keep it a secret what we dress up as. What do you say?" I place the steaming mug next to Flip's papers and he groans, leaning back and looking at me.

"Seriously? Why do we have to dress up at all?"

"Flip, why not?" I point at Ron, agreeing with his question.

"You're my favorite officer, you know that, Stallworth?" I walk over to him and place a hand on his shoulder as we share a smile.

"Hey." Jimmy says, I look over and wave him off.

"You know very well you're high up on the rank as well." He sighs relieved and sinks back into his chair with a grin.

"What about Flip?" Ron asks, smirking and we all glance over at Phil. He's obviously listening but trying to ignore us, head down and pen ready to write.

"Officer Zimmerman? Oh, I don't know. He's been quite rude lately. I would say— just below Landers."

"Hey!" His head snaps up and he frowns at me, all of us chuckling at his expression. I skip over and lean my elbows on his desk.

"You know what to do to change that." I wink at him and stand back up straight, walking toward the office door. "I'll see you on Saturday then, no more complaints." I raise an eyebrow at Flip at the end, him sighing deeply but nodding. I grin and wave, turning. My bell pants moving and flowing with my long strides.

___

I wait for Patrice to come over that Saturday. She helps me with the food and dips, decorations and music. As Bobby Pickett's Monster Mash is playing in the background, we get ready, dressing up in our costumes.

I slip into my rather tight Bat Girl suit and Patrice in her Wonder Woman outfit. I place the crown in the perfect spot in her wild hair and we help each other touch up on our makeup. We giggle as we pose, taking polaroids and skipping through my small house like we were saving the world. I'm about to take some more popcorn to throw at her but we hear a knock, freezing and I grin, walking over to the door. I see Patrice straightening her outfit, making sure everything's in place.

I open the door and peek outside, seeing my three favorite men of the night. I can't help but burst out laughing, Jimmy dressed up as Tin Man from Wizard of Oz. Even his face is painted silver, shining brighter than my glitter eyeshadow. Patrice walks over and giggles, welcoming Ron and I hug him afterwards. With Jimmy I try to keep his face a little further from mine.

Ron honestly couldn't have picked a better costume. His name tag reading Agent Bond. Which he kind of was. A really good undercover detective. And a secretive bag in his hand.

And Flip? Flip wore a flannel, his hair as messy as ever and Jeans and boots as usual. I don't want to frown, not showing him that it disappoints me he didn't put any effort into it. I really do like him, and I know he likes me too. We spent many evenings together, staying longer at diners and bars than the others. Talking and exchanging looks. Maybe I'm just overreacting.

"Good you're here Flip." I give him a smile and hug him, wondering why he is so quiet. I raise an eyebrow as we pull away and lead them all inside, showing them the food filled table and offer them beers.

Patrice and Ron sit together, Jimmy on one end and the seat next to Flip still open. I feel his eyes on me as I walk between kitchen and dining room. I also picked the costume because it honestly just looked really good. It sparkles just like Yvonne Craig's version, purple and tight. I pull up my mask and sit down next to Flip, trying not to be too mad at him. It's just a costume for goodness sake. Or rather the lack of one.

"Hey Flip, what do you think of (Y/N)'s costume?" Jimmy says, biting into a piece of meat, raising his silvery eyebrows. Ron smiles, glancing up at Flip too. He hasn't even eaten anything yet, is he grumpy today?

"Yeah and what about the food, you don't like it? I'm sorry that I invited you- won't happen again-" I let out, growing more angry every second he's just sitting there. He looks like he's trying to suppress a grin, struggling to keep a straight face. I frown, not sure what's going on. Jimmy and Ron join in and Patrice too after Ron whispered something in her ear.

"I think you look bloody good tonight, Bat Girl." Flip says, turning to me and I glance at his mouth, wondering why his words sound muffled. He grins at me and my eyes grow wide. Vampire teeth. Everyone starts laughing and I can't help but giggle, slapping his arm. He's unbelievable.

"Just for you." He says, quickly taking out the teeth and drying his mouth.

"Well I have to admit- that was good." I say, taking my beer and holding it up to the others.

"To a fun night with Bond, Tin Man, Wonder Woman and- a wanna-be-Dracula." We all toast and take a sip, I finally feel relaxed and take another glance at Flip, shaking my head at him as he looks back at me, winking.

___

We let movies roll in the background and played Pass Out while eating and laughing. Once we finished the game and Flip won, having ten pink elephant cards first, he raises his fists in the air, Ron and Jimmy groaning in annoyance as he gets his last tongue twister right. I feel very tipsy, not used to too much booze. Who could have figured that Ron would bring that game?

I lower one of Flip's arms, shushing him. "Calm down, cowboy. It's just a game." I hear myself slur at the end, frowning. I need water.

"No way, I've never seen you drunk before, Batsy." Flip responds and I click my tongue, trying to stand up. I had to wait a second before actually moving toward the kitchen. "Hey, hey— let me help you." A hand wraps around my waist, holding me to their side. I look up at Flip and nod.

"Thanks." I say quietly, my cheeks warm and eyes glossy. "I want water." I mumble and he helps me sit down at the small kitchen table, leaving me and returning with a glass of what I hope is water.

I take a sip and frown, a weird taste after all the beer, wine and whiskey we had this night. "You doing alright? Feel like you need to throw up?" I groan, not wanting to even think about it. I lean forward on the table, head in my hands and close my eyes for a moment.

"You want me to bring you upstairs?" He suggests, his voice sounding closer than last time he spoke. I glance over my fingers and he sits beside me, rubbing my back now, beneath my costume cape.

"No, I'm good-" I hiccup, holding a hand to my lips and growing even warmer in the face as Flip chuckles, running a hand through his hair and standing up, holding out a hand to me. I sigh taking it and his other hand is back around my waist, holding me up. I can walk myself, I want to pull away but am not strong enough. Maybe it's good he's holding me.

"Hey guys, the host needs to lay down, I'll bring her to bed." I frown at Flip, shaking my head.

"No, I'm fine-" hiccup "-I just need more water." I can't make out anyone's expression before being lead to the stairs. I hear good night and thank you but the next thing I feel is already my bed. Soft blanket against my cheek. I sigh, not wanting to move an inch and sleep for days.

"Let me get Patrice." Flip says and I hear a couple steps. Then my hair is lifted off my face, moved right behind my ear. "Sleep tight." I feel something wet on my forehead and then nothing. Only quiet. And dark.

___

I roll over, feeling around for my blanket and cover my cold skin. With one eye open I look around, trying to figure out what's going on. My window is open, curtains pulled together, darkening the room. I groan, frowning. The phone rings and I flinch, holding a hand to my warm head. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to ignore the shrill tone but it doesn't stop. In one slow but swift motion I sit up, taking a second to regain my balance and blink my eyes open.

"Hello?" I get out, clearing my throat afterwards, not knowing what's wrong with my voice. So groggy and deep.

"Wow, good morning Bat Girl, had a little too much to drink last night?" I hear Patrice's voice and roll my eyes, sighing.

"Why did you let me drink that much? You know me. At least I thought you did." I grin, shaking my head and closing my eyes again, leaning forward, head in my free hand.

"You should know your limits, sister. Maybe you got a little closer to knowing them last night."

"Sure thing, sister."

"You up for a run later?" I raise an eyebrow, not sure if she even drank anything at all last night. I stand up carefully and draw the curtains aside, squinting my eyes as the first sunlight burns my eyes.

"Wow, how late is it?"

"It's one thirty. I'm glad I finally woke you up."

"I'm glad too, I bet it's a mess downstairs. I'll call you when I'm done cleaning, a run should do me some good though."

"Yes, right on, sister. See you later."

As I put on a robe, scanning my costume at the end of my bed, I walk out and down the stairs. I sigh relieved, the mess not as big as I thought. I hope the boys took some leftovers home to eat. But I see all the food stacked in the fridge. I roll my eyes and pack boxes, to drop them off at the station later.

I get ready, drinking a rare cup of coffee and put on grey leggings and a turquoise long sleeve for my run with Patrice. I'll meet her in about twenty minutes at the station.

As I drive there, I try to remember what all went down last night. The pass out game was maybe a little too much for my fragile stomach. And Flip, his Dracula teeth still make me grin. Such a dork.

I park my car and walk inside the station, having all the food stacked on my arms. As I get to their office I make out Patrice at Ron's table, laughing and sitting down on his desk.

"Hello guys, anyone ordered leftovers?" I place down boxes on their desks and lastly at Flip's, sitting down on his.

"Someone arose from the dead I see." Flip says and Patrice nods.

"She was still asleep two hours ago." I frown at her, mouth agape and cross my arms.

"Why do you have to betray me, Patrice?" They laugh at me, Flip nudging me arm. I glare down at him, not able to hide a smile.

"Especially you, Dracula."

"What? I didn't betray you, I even brought you upstairs." He raises his hands in front of himself, eyebrows doing the same. I roll my eyes and stand up, telling Patrice to wrap it up and go running.

"You're going for a run? You mind grabbing me a good coffee on your way back?" Flip says and continues to scan through papers.

"Who says I will come back after my run?" My hands land on my hips, eyes on him as he slowly looks up, adjusting his holster over his red plaid shirt. Which was my favorite. I loved the color on him and it's the softest out of all of them.

"Well, I know you need those tupperware boxes back so-" He shrugs his shoulders, smiling innocently.

"You're lucky you're cute, Zimmerman." I mumble, hitting his shoulder and the guys laugh, Patrice and I walking out.

___

"So are you dating now or what?" Patrice huffs, running alongside me as we enter the park and follow the path down to the water.

"Who? Me and Flip?"

"Obviously, he's absolutely into you."

"What makes you say that?" I swallow, trying to take a look at her but struggling to do it while running. I just see her eyes rolling.

"The way he's treating you, looking at you. Last night for example, he helped you go to bed and was such a gentlemen. He came back down, asking me to help you undress."

I frown, hoping not to trip as I try to remember the wet sensation on my forehead last night. The way his finger ran across my forehead. My skin tingles at the thought.

"I don't know, Patrice." I say and she sighs, changing the subject.

___

The whole way back to the department I have to think of what Patrice said, nearly running into a couple officers. I carry the four big coffee cups from our local Colorado café that usually doesn't do takeaway coffee. But for the department they do. So sweet of them.

"Three orders of hot and delicious coffee?" The guys look up and I give them the cups, Jimmy nearly burning his finger. "Careful!" I say and giggle. I give Flip his cup and he hums, smelling the liquid, eyes closed.

"That's the good stuff." I grin, nodding and take a gentle sip myself, sitting back down on his desk.

"Flip?" He looks over, nodding and drinking the coffee. I push a black strand of hair out of his face, adjusting my seat and face him more. "Can we talk later?" I ask quietly, not wanting to cause a scene or give the boys anything to tease Flip with.

"Uh, sure. After work?" I nod and rub my arm, smiling at him. "You could come by my place, if you want." He adds, seeming hesitant but tries not to show it, drinking more of the coffee. I stop moving for a second, not sure if I heard him right. To his place? I've never been there. Weird, to be honest. I've known him for a while now, nearly a year. Patrice introduced me to them all after an incident with an investigation she told me. That's how she met Ron too.

"I'll be there at around eight?" He nods and smiles at me. After writing down his address for me I leave and decide a hot shower would be the best now.

______

I'm done cleaning up my house and myself, when it's already 7.20. I curse under my breath and quickly get dressed. It's chilly outside and I settle with a thin white turtle neck and my favorite blue plaid skirt, short but beautiful. At the door I put on my black thigh highs and grab my purse and coat, finally leaving at 7.45. It's about 20 down to 21 Street so I hurry, still staying with the speed limit.

As I pull up to number 1813, I take in the house. It's matching the blue tones of my skirt, the lawn turning dry and a huge oak tree standing to the side. It's a cute one story house. I smile and step out, a cold breeze welcoming me. I pull on the coat and hug myself, walking up to his house. After knocking it only took him about a minute to open the door.

"Hey there." We share a hug and he leads me inside, taking my coat from me. I take off my boots, him clearing his throat and then moving from behind me toward a different room.

"Just follow the smell once you're done." He calls out and I look up to see where he's going. I grin and try to imagine Flip cooking a dinner. I walk toward the kitchen and stop in the doorway. He's stirring something in a pot, then goes over to grab a couple plates from a cabinet.

"Can I help?" I walk in further, smoothing down my skirt. He looks over, up and down my form only briefly and shakes his head.

"No need, I can manage. You can pick a drink and sit down in the dining room, right through that door." He nods ver to a different entry way and I open the fridge, looking through his options.

"Alright, you want a beer too?" He hums in response, tasting the sauce next and I try to peek but he points to the door, looking at me seriously.

"Okay okay, I'll leave." I raise my beer bottle filled hands in defence. Before going out the door I glance over my shoulder, his eyes on my bum, not realizing I caught him. I smirk and sway my hips more, leaving and sitting down at the round table in the room. I bite my lip, crossing my legs, running a hand over my exposed skin.

"Here we go." Flip enters, carrying two plates. Pasta with red sauce. I mean, it's nothing extraordinary but it doesn't have to be. It's a good dish and smells really good.

"Thanks, Flip, looks and smells amazing. Where have you been hiding your cooking talent all this time?" He chuckles, joining me across the table. We clink our bottles and start eating. My thigh high socks warm my feet and legs, it's really gotten cold out now. November is one of my favorite months.

"How was work, everything alright?" I ask, wiping my lips with a napkin and take another sip.

"Yeah, it's gotten more busy lately, though." He sighs, twirling more pasta on his fork. I just watch him for a moment, eating. I want to place another fork full into my mouth but it's too much sauce and splatters onto my white turtleneck. I groan, wiping my mouth and start dabbing at my shirt. But it's only getting worse. I hear him chuckle and watch me.

"Hey, that's not funny. Do you have dish soap?" He frowns, nodding though. "Excuse me for a second." I stand up and walk toward the kitchen. I make sure the door is fully closed and step up to the sink. I pull off my top, running some warm water over the spot. Then I look for the dish soap. Nowhere to be found. I want to groan again but start looking through the cabinets. Where does a man keep his cleaning supplies?

"Flip? Where is the dish soap?" I call out and hear his chair squeaking. I freeze, panicking. He'll see me in my bra- I block my chest with the wet top and shiver, the water cold against my bare skin. He walks inside and stops for a second, looking at my state. He clears his throat, hiding a smile and opens one of the upper cabinets, pulling out the dish soap from a shelf that I clearly could not have reached all by myself. Idiot.

"Here you go." He hands it to me and I smile tightly, trying to avoid eye contact. "Do you Want me to get you a shirt?" He asks, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. His grin warms my face even more and I only nod.

"Thanks." I mumble and he pushes himself off, walking past me and toward his bedroom, I assume. I let out a breath and use the soap to quickly soak into the fabric, rubbing the spot together and running it under warm water again. I repeat that until there's only a very light shade of sauce, nearly gone. One time in the wash should get rid of the rest.

"Here you go." I flinch, turning around and accept his shirt. A black plaid shirt that I haven't seen on him before.

"Is this new?" I try to act casual, pulling it on and buttoning it up- but wrong. I groan and he pushes my hands down gently, redoing the buttons. His fingers grazing the skin of my stomach and chest. He apologizes quietly, focusing on the buttons. My heart races fast and at hope he doesn't feel it.

"There- and yes. It's a new one." I thank him again, tucking the shirt into my skirt on one side at the front. The sleeves are long and wide, covering my hands as well. "You want to sit on the couch?" I bite my lip, nodding at him. Before we move he steps closer and wraps his hands around my neck, my breath stuck in my throat. His fingers push out my hair that's stuck underneath the flannel. "Better."

He smiles down at me and walks past me, looking back to see if I'm following. I do. And sit down next to him. Right leg tucked underneath me and hands in my lap as I face him. "I like this one." I say, playing with the ends of the sleeves.

"Me too." I look back up, he's already watching me. "So what did you want to talk about?"

I knew this would be coming but I hoped he forgot. He's a detective. He doesn't forget anything. Maybe struggling to remember names sometimes but that's about it.

"I- uh, you know I just wanted to see how you're doing. I care about my- friends." He nods slowly, totally not buying my words.

"Well I'm doing just fine, thanks for asking." I nod, looking down at my lap, hoping he would let it go.

"How long, (Y/N)?" I meet his ganze, a sigh leaving his lips.

"What do you mean?" He shakes his head, chuckling and inching a little closer, his left hand over the back of the couch and right hand taking my left one, holding it and then gazing back up at me.

"How long are we supposed to keep this game going? I mean, it's fun, don't get me wrong. I love flirting with you and showering you with compliments but- you know, I think-"

"-it's time we take it a step further?" I conclude for him as he starts struggling with words. He nods, sighing with a smile. I take his big hand between both of mine, running my thumbs over his skin.

"Exactly." He adds, his voice calm and warm, like always. Another thing I love about him. I don't know what else to say so I lean my head closer, watching his lips and eyes, his own face leaning in. I close my lids and concentrate on his and my breath mixing. Soon our lips meet, gently and slow. My left hand going up around his neck, trying to sit closer to him. His hands hold onto my waist, lifting me up and setting me on his lap. I giggle against his lips and he chuckles, pulling me tightly against him. Our flannels rubbing together. He's still caressing my hips, digging his thumbs into my skin and hands cupping my bum. My skirt riding up with every movement. Soon his thumbs hook under the hem of my skirt and stay there for a moment. Our tongues fighting and tasting each other. My fingers running through his thick dark hair. His beard tickling my neck as his lips move from my mouth down to my neck. I hold his head and lean mine to the side slightly, giving him more space to play with. His breath is heavy and hot against my skin, his lips leaving a wet trail as he tries to move even lower, quickly opening the top two buttons of the flannel I'm wearing.

"Flip~" I whimper, his teeth pulling at my lower lip, hands back by my skirt, lifting it even further until the fabric is around my waist, panties exposed. My core tingles and I can't help and rock back and forth on his lap, glancing down and making out his hard member inside his pants. I unbutton my shirt even further and pull it off completely, his eyes glued to my every movement, cupping my breasts as soon as they are free. I still wear my bra but he's quick to unhook it and throw it to the side. Hands back on my breasts.

"Fuck." He says under his breath, kneading them and playing with my nipples. I inhale sharply as his teeth graze that soft skin. I try to take off my high socks but he grabs my hands, shaking his head at me, going back for a kiss. His hands now running up and down my thighs up to my ass.

I finally get to unbutton his flannel and he pulls it off, shirt following. I already try my best at opening his buckle but struggle, sighing and stopping the kiss to have a better look. He chuckles and helps me, pulling down the zipper too. I feel his fingers move around my bum and push my soaking panties to the side, teasing my lips and bud. I moan, moving my hips and palming him through his boxer briefs before freeing his member fully. I stroke it, his forehead now resting on my shoulder as he breathes deeply, small but low moans leaving his luscious lips every now and then.

And that's how we had sex for the first time.

___

The next morning I wake up to low snoring, I smile before opening my eyes, glancing over at Flip's peaceful form. The blanket only covering his lower body. His bare chest falling and rising with every breath he takes. I reach out, pushing his hair back gently and watch him, covering myself with more blanket. I move closer to him, resting my head in his chest, fingertips dancing across his stomach. His breath calms down and he's sighing, still sleeping as I glance up to his eyes. I look back down and bite my lip, my fingers moving further down and pushing the blanket as I go. Soon I reach his member, lightly touching it. I lift myself off the sheets and move lower, parting his legs carefully and kneeling between them, I wet my lips and kiss his semi hard cock. I watch his face, twisting and moving. And when I finally take him whole into my mouth his eyes slowly open, hands gripping the sheets as he looks down, smirking and chuckling as he throws his head back against the pillow. I smile as I lick his penis, kissing the tip and running my hands along his abdomen, dragging my nails down. His muscles twitching underneath my touch.

"Good morning to you too." He mumbles, his voice still sounding way too tired. He rubs a hand across his face and the other one tangle ps in my hair, guiding me up and down at a pace he enjoys. His other arm is tucked behind his head and he looks relaxed. His breath is getting heavier, louder, turning into moaning. But suddenly he sits up, me following his movement as his wide eyes search for his alarm clock.

"6.30? Fuck-" He stumbles out the bed and nearly bumps into his dresser on the way to the bathroom. I didn't know he would be working today. Oops. The shower is running and I hear him exhale loudly, soon turning off the water again. I walk to the bathroom as he comes out, pulling out clothes from his drawers. I have to suppress a grin, holding a hand in front of my lips as I still see his hard member. He's trying to tuck it into his pants but I push his hands off, kneeling down.

"If you're late, ten more minutes won't be a problem." I say, his face twisting in frustration and he groans, pulling on his shirt and the black flannel I wore yesterday. I start my job, trying to make him release fast.

"Fuck, okay- this might work." He says, sounding more awake and guiding my head again, his head tilted back. He's pushing my head so far that I'm near tears, struggling to take a breath. The pace quickens and he's holding me down, groaning and twitching in my mouth, now loudly moaning and releasing his load down my throat. I hold onto his legs, hoping he'd let go soon so I could catch my breath. And that he does, I gasp and cough, wiping my mouth and swallowing down his cum. I wipe my eyes and smile up at him. I kiss his tip as he takes a couple deep breaths.

"No more- I need to get going." He tucks his member away, zipping up and buckling his belt. I stand up wiping some spit off my face. He stops and turns to me, pulling me into a hug. "You're incredible." He whispers into my hair, kissing my forehead. He steps around me and I follow him into the living room where he quickly covers me with a blanket from the couch. "Careful love- only I'm allowed to see you like that." He winks and I giggle, pulling it tightly around myself, watching him put on his boots. "I'll bring you lunch later." I say and he smiles, walking over and giving me another kiss, this time on the lips.

"Thanks, see you later." I wave and watch him leave, going to his car and driving off. I go into the kitchen and sigh as I see my stained shirt still laying there. I clean up his house as best as I can, taking a simple black short sleeve shirt from his drawers and get dressed. Before I leave I make sure he has dinner for tonight and write a quick note.

Thanks for last night, I loved it. Dinner is in the fridge, hope you like it. :)

I leave and take all with me that's mine, driving back to my place to make him some early lunch. I make sandwiches, grab an apple and a piece of my homemade chocolate cake that they didn't finish at the Halloween dinner.

Once I'm freshly showered and wearing new clothes, a sweater and my bell pants, I drive back to the station. It's now 11.30 am.

I walk into the office, a big smile on my face. Their conversation dies down as they see me and Flip stands up, taking my bags and pulling me into a hug, kissing my lips. I melt into his touch, stroking his cheek. Other hand holding his strong arm.

Once he lets go, he goes in for a second but brief peck on the lips.

"When did that happen?" We look over at a stunned Ron and smirking Jimmy who looked like he was waiting for it to happen.

"You owe me, Stallworth."

I ignore that our friends were betting on us and only look at Flip. "I made you lunch and brought you some cake as well."

"What about us? Are we getting no food no more?" Ron gasps, holding a hand over his heart.

"I don't know yet. Maybe you should ask Patrice." I raise a brow at him and Flip throws an arm around me, pointing at me.

"She's my personal chef now, none of yours. Get used to it. Comes with having a girlfriend, Stallworth." I look up at him. Slowly smiling.

"Girlfriend, huh?" He shrugs, smiling innocently and I ignore the comment he made about me. Instead I agree with him. Hugging him around his middle.

"He's right." I mumble into his flannel, loving his smell. I could fall asleep just like this. And just like that I won not only a man who I want to spend a lot of time with- no- I also gained a best friend. My Flip.

_________________________________

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[mrs-gucci]

The Birthday Troll [blurb] {Flip Zimmerman x Reader}

@mrs-zimmerman

Flip is a grump on his birthday though he secretly loves the attention you give him. Just not from anyone else.

warnings. FLUFF, humor, language, Flip being a birthday troll lol. **no actual use of ‘Y/N’ in this fic.

no tw’s :)

word count: 625

You pull into the CSPD station, car smelling of Flip’s favorite brownies and of cigarette smoke, which you’re still trying to get rid of after he took your car to work one day while his was still at the body shop.

Flip hates making a big deal out of his birthday, except when you’re the one making a big deal out of his birthday. That he’s fine with; in fact, he actually finds himself looking forward to it. But he’d never admit to it out loud.

When you step into the station, platter of brownies, pint of milk and cluster of balloons in-hand, the front desk secretary smiles. She recognizes you, of course, and stands.

“Hi, hon. Unfortunately, Flip and Ron just got called out to a crime scene, but let me help you put all that down at his desk. I’ll put the milk in the fridge and I’ll make sure he gets it when he comes back.”

You frown, sighing softly and nodding. “Okay. Bummer, I was hoping to deliver it in person. But I guess that was wishful thinking on my part around here.”

Both of you chuckle together as you set everything down on Flip’s desk.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. They were here twenty minutes ago, you literally just missed ‘em.”

She takes the milk with a small smile, heading back to the break room while you arrange everything how you want it. You also clean out his desk���s ashtray, while you’re here, and put a new pack in the drawer when you notice that he’s running low.

After scribbling a quick note for him, you head back home, feeling a bit sad that you couldn’t be there to share it with him. Luckily, though, you’ve got plenty more exciting things planned for when he gets home later.

When everyone gives Flip funny looks and soft, teasing laughs as he walks back to the bullpen, he already knows something’s up. Probably Ron’s doing, he assumes, whatever it is.

He steps in and immediately catches sight of the balloons on his desk. He groans in dread.

“Rookie! What the fuck kind of fuckin’ birthday crap did you put all over my desk?”

Ron steps up next to him, eyebrows furrowed. “That’s not from me. And when are you gonna stop calling me that?”

Flip huffs, walking up to his desk with frustrated strides.  “If this was one of those new beat cops, I swear to fucking...”

Your handwritten note and the towering platter of brownies catches his eye and his words trail off as he picks it up, reading it. Your voice rings through his head with each word read, as if you were standing right there next to him reading it, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips.

“Woah, is that a smile I see from the birthday boy?” Ron teases, laughing and high-fiving a colleague as he sits down across from his partner.

“No.” He says, quickly shoving the note away in his desk drawer. “I’m just looking forward to eating these brownies.”

Just then, the secretary comes into the bullpen with the pint of milk in-hand and sets it down on his desk.

“Your girlfriend brought this along for you too, Zimmerman.”

“Awww, milk for the birthday boy’s brownies!”

Ron laughs, turning around in his chair to give an air-five to the beat cop who made the comment. Flip gives the rookie cop an unamused glare, then snatches the milk and brownies from his desk.

“Can’t even fuckin’ enjoy shit around here without getting berated.” He shakes his head, walking down the hall towards the break room.

Everyone chuckles as he walks out.

“Zimmerman smiiiiiled!”

Flip groans, looking back towards the bullpen.

“Leave me alone!!”

🎉written as part of mrs. g’s birthday week 🎉

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[sith-lords-consort]

Imagine being Flip's cute little housewife. Like, just imagine wearing cute dresses around the house, just flitting around the kitchen barefoot in the mornings in your pajamas. You pack his lunch for him, tucking a cute little note in to remind him that you love him and that he needs to drink some water, not just coffee.

That being said you fill his thermos with coffee, adding a generous squeeze of chocolate syrup to it. He doesn't like sugar or creamer, but he's a sucker for chocolate in his coffee.

By the time he's showered and ready for work, you have breakfast on the table and his lunch all packed up. Flip's favorite breakfast is hash browns, biscuits, eggs and sausage with a healthy portion of gravy on the side. He can't eat that every day (which you lovingly remind him) but you make it once a week just for him.

Flip always insists on helping you with the dishes, even if he's running late for work. "They can hold the fort down for the ten minutes it'll take me to help you out, darlin."

While he does the dishes, you toss a load of laundry in the washer, and then hand him his lunchbox and thermos, kissing him goodbye for the day.

Sometimes he forgets his thermos, and you swing by the police state and drop it off at his desk (along with a few cookies from the bakery you get bread from). Flip likes it when you do that, because he gets to show you off infront of his co-workers for a few minutes.

When Flip gets home, he likes to pause at the front door as he takes his booths off, sniffing the air to try and guess what's for dinner.

On the days when he smells matzo ball soup and brisket, he nearly sprints to the kitchen to shower you in kisses. He has his favorite meals, and whenever you make them he goes a bit overboard with the affection. I doubt you mind though, who doesn't want some extra attention from him?

#flip zimmerman/reader #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman #flip x reader #blackkklansman

[beachwoodmonet]

Complications

pt. 2 of Simplicity :))

click here for pt. 1 !!

**author’s note: thank you so much for the love on pt. 1. i was able to get pt. 2 out before i move back in for university, but i’m not sure if i’ll be able to do the same for the (maybe) final part. i’d love to hear feedback this time around again :)) i also wanted to briefly mention some of the content within this part. i made an effort to discuss intergenerational trauma within the jewish community, and of course only want to do so tastefully. if anyone is uncomfortable with any part of the work, please don’t hesitate to reach out to educate me on any wrong-doings; i’d never want anything i write to offend or come across as romanticization. 

possible warnings: (super) brief mention of the KKK, (super) brief mention of hate crimes, smoking. 

6k; fluff and some angst in there as well

Even after meeting Y/N, Flip Zimmerman remains a simple man through and through; things are just a bit different now.

He still likes his coffee hot.

Ever since a couple weeks ago when you brought him coffee with his book, it’s continued to circulate in his brain, popping up in his train of thought about once a day. It is probably some of the best coffee he’s ever had, but he isn’t sure where you’d gotten it from. The cup wasn’t anything special; no logo or defining features, only a plain white cup with a piece of cardboard wrapped around so as to not burn your hand. He goes to a couple coffee shops around the area, yet he comes out of each one empty handed. Well, not literally empty handed but the coffee is shit enough that he wishes he would’ve.

He still doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

Flip is still the reigning champ at complaining, of course, but you’re one of the few people who listens and listens well. When he calls to ask about a book, you’ll in turn ask how his day has been and sometimes even ask for a status update on something he previously complained about. The meant to be quick phone calls can turn into long, drawn out conversations, especially if he’s at the station late doing paperwork by himself. Thus far, he’s made an effort to get all his paperwork done on the days it’s given to him, wanting to swing by the library to pick up a book in hopes of running into you. He’s whipped and he knows it, but he’s not sure he cares.

He doesn’t like to ask for help...unless it’s from you.

Flip still considers himself to be pretty self sufficient, but asking for help is something he continues to wrestle with. That day at the library when you promised you’d help him, free of judgment, that’s when his mood really started to shift. He’s still realizing that asking for help sometimes isn't a bad thing, and you help him remove the stigma he places on himself by being reassuring and patient. There are no dumb questions when he’s around you, and it’s one of the many things he’s come to admire about you.

As fall continues to fly by into October, the atmosphere at the Colorado Springs Public Library remains calm and quiet, only less busy than usual. With the school year being in full swing, most of the patrons are retired or people stopping by to take a break from running errands. Occasionally there will be a few college students, but the majority prefer to study at the on-campus library as opposed to making the trek across town.

Thursdays have quickly become your favorite day.

Thursdays are usually the day Flip has off, and he makes it a priority to stop in for a new book and conversation. You make sure to reshelve early each morning before calling those who have books on hold waiting to be picked up. By prioritizing these things first, it means most of your time is spent at the front desk in order to assist patrons.

Today, however, is different. When you unlock the library first thing at 7:00 AM, you don’t expect to show up to the mess left from the day prior. Unfortunately for you, the last few days you have been out sick with a gnarly cold due to the changing weather. Of course this morning when your alarm clock goes off, you are considering calling your boss once more in hopes of having another sick day, only to remember it is a Thursday. You feel a bit pathetic justifying it to yourself, but you don’t get to see Flip very often now that he is working around the clock to finish up a case. Blowing your nose and taking some cold medicine, you get ready to head to work.

As you are heading out the door, you notice several people outside shoveling their driveways. Snow is fairly common this time of year, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. Lucky for you, though, you and your next door neighbor made prior arrangements a year or so after you moved in; as long as you share whatever new recipe you are testing out with him and his wife, he mows your lawn and shovels your driveway. It is an arrangement you both are quite happy with and have continued to maintain in your years living next to one another.

You make your way to the library, taking your time when it comes to driving over ice, especially; however, you cannot say the same about when you are walking in. Nearing the door, keys in hand, you fail to notice the large patch of ice covered in part with snow. You feel your feet sweep out from under you, landing hard on your backside. Letting out a small yelp, you hold back tears before picking yourself off the ground. Your tailbone throbs as you push open the door, brushing snow and sand off your scraped up hands.

After tearfully placing your things in the backroom, taking a few ibuprofen you keep in your purse, and turning on the power within the building, you finally get the chance to assess the damage left by your coworkers. The front desk itself is a mess; books, papers, supplies, and more scattered across it as well as on the floor behind it. The reshelve cart hasn’t been stocked like it is supposed to be each night, and someone decided to flip over the book-hold form in order to turn it into a scratch piece of paper to take notes on. No one had likely been called, and the requested books have obviously been reshelved, meaning you will probably get more than a handful of angry phone calls today with patrons demanding to know when their books will be in. Your coworkers make it a habit to ditch anything having to do with the phone because they know they can get away with it. This means it is usually left for you to deal with, even when you are away.

The library has been your pride and joy for nearly three years now. After receiving your Bachelors in Journalism, you decided to continue your education in order to get your Masters in Library and Information Science. Your parents were of course wary, wanting you to prioritize getting married and starting a family, but you made it clear to them--as well as everyone else around you-- that education was of importance to you. Once you completed graduate school at the age of 24, you moved into the house you currently reside at and started at the library. Colorado Springs feels like home to you now, and you sure as hell don’t mind how much cheaper the cost of living is in comparison to Denver.  

The morning continues to go poorly, the angry phone calls you anticipated beginning to roll in nearly right after you unlock the doors for the public at 9:00 AM. You finally find a rhythm of juggling tasks, but when patrons start arriving, you are completely thrown out of your groove, not being able to find it again for about another hour. Your coworker shows up right as you are hung up on, the nasty phone call making you decide that you need to be by yourself for a bit.

Bringing the cart up with you to the third floor, though you have no intention to use it at this time, you make your way to the reference corner. Your tailbone aches as you sit in one of the large arms chairs, finally letting the tears you have been holding all morning spill down over your cheeks. You cry quietly, your stuffy nose beginning to run as the emotions building up in you all come crashing down. Hiccups and coughs are muffled by your sweater as you try to catch your breath, eventually calming down enough to do so. You are beyond exhausted and all you want is for the day to be over so you can take a bath and go to bed early, wishing you wouldn’t have even come in in the first place.

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

Thursdays have quickly become Flip’s favorite day.

He enjoys the extra sleep he is able to get at night, and especially enjoys the extra long shower he always takes when he finally decides to crawl out of bed. He enjoys taking his time getting dressed and enjoys brewing his coffee to eat with breakfast. He enjoys getting away from the station for the day and even enjoys running errands that most find boring. Out of everything there is to enjoy, though, Thursdays are his favorite because he enjoys seeing you.

After he hangs his shovel back up in his garage, he climbs into his truck and begins making his way down his mental checklist for the day. Oftentimes he stops by the library right as it opens; it allows you to greet him at the doors as you unlock them, and it has quickly become one of his favorite parts of his favorite day.

Today, however, is different. He decides he is finally going to ask you out to lunch. You had coyly mentioned it a few times in passing, thinking he wouldn’t notice, but he did. And today is finally going to be the day that he mentions it. He makes good time completing the tasks on his checklist, dropping groceries and a few other purchases off at home before finally heading to the library.

He notices almost immediately that you aren’t sitting at the front desk like you usually are and this makes him nervous. Although you told him your coworkers would direct him your way if he needs, today is the first time he might actually have to ask someone else for help. He has had friendly conversations with a majority of them and they notice how you look at one another, but his stomach remains unsettled anyway.

He nods at your coworker in acknowledgement and she points upward, signaling to him that you are upstairs somewhere. His nerves begin to disperse as he makes his way upstairs, grateful to avoid the awkward smalltalk. You are nowhere to be found on the second floor, so he tries his luck at the third, making his way over to the reference section.

He hears a small hiccup followed by some sniffling, following the noise through shelves and back to the corner as he stubs out his cigarette. What he finds makes his eyes soften and his shoulders sag. You are curled up in one of the large arm chairs, eyes puffy and glossy due to crying and nose red from blowing it too often. Looking up upon his arrival, you quickly stand and wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hands in a failed attempt to hide the fact you have been crying.

“Hey.” Your voice is scratchy; in part due to your cold and in part due to your crying.

“Hey. Everything alright?” He is unsure of what to say, knowing the answer is of course no. When your face crumples and you confirm his suspicions with a shake of your head, his heart begins to ache, watching as tears bubble over your waterline.

Gathering you into his arms, he holds you close to his chest as you cry. You grip his shirt as sobs wrack your body, one of his hands rubbing your back while his other arm winds itself around your torso. He stays quiet, hushing you on occasion, but mainly just waiting for you to get all your tears out.

Things slowly subside and you pull your face out from his chest with a sniffle, releasing the flannel material from the death grip your fists had claimed on it. You feel even more exhausted than before, each of your limbs feeling heavy and uncomfortable while an oncoming migraine causes your ears to ring. He brushes away stray tears, smoothing the hair at the crown of your head. You make eye contact after avoiding it for a minute or so. Offering a weak smile, you thank him quietly, your voice coming out weaker than it had previously.

“I originally came to ask if you’d like to get lunch during your break, but I think it’d probably be best if we got you home instead, yeah?”

Your heart swells at his confession, wishing today wouldn’t have gone the way it did. Still, you nod in agreement rolling the cart into the elevator as he stands next to you. After collecting your things from the backroom, you explain to your coworker that you are heading home to rest. Flip keeps a hand on your back as you make your way through the parking lot, helping you avoid any potential ice patches.

As you continue to where your car is parked, you notice him stop by his truck. You chew at your cheek, shoving your hands in your coat pockets as you walk back over to his truck.

“You can um. Follow me to my house if you’d like.”

“You sure? Don’t want to intrude, especially if you’re not feeling all that well.” You nod.

“It’s okay. Talking with you will make me feel better.” He nods at your confirmation, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Is it alright if we make a stop on the way? Don’t feel like making lunch, and I want some tea for my throat.”

“Course, doll. Whatever you want.” The pet name rolls off his tongue accidentally, and he mentally kicks himself. Your relationship up to this point has been friendly; of course there is a mutual interest that has been on a low simmer for the last few weeks, but neither one of you wants to make a move and risk ruining what you have.  

Your cheeks warm and all you can do is nod before turning and heading in the direction of your car. Pulling out of the parking lot, you finally allow yourself to savor the pet name, doing a little celebratory wiggle in your seat. Your tailbone throbs in warning, but you are too giddy to pay it that much mind, suddenly feeling a bit better than minutes earlier. Flip follows you in his truck, eventually pulling into the cafe parking lot alongside you.

Getting out of your vehicles, he opens the door for you and you thank him as you step inside. You already know what you want, so you allow Flip to look over the menu a bit while waiting in line.

“Sorry. Not sure what I want.” He scratches at his facial hair as he continues reading over all his options.

“It’s alright. What do you usually like?”

“Meat,” he chuckled, “I’m not super picky.”

You make your way to the counter, ordering for both of you without hesitation. Flip stands off to the side of the pick up ledge with you as you anticipate your order being ready, and you are grumbling to him in mock frustration. He had managed to pay while you were busy digging through your purse. He didn’t realize it would cause this much of a debate.

“Will you at least let me pay you back?”

“Nope.” He pops the second ‘p’, shooting you a wink as you glare at him.

Before you can protest further, your food and drinks are ready and the two of you head back outside. Setting your drink in your cup holder, you start the drive to your house.

Flip takes a sip of his coffee as he pulls into your neighborhood, and his heart nearly bursts out of his chest as warmth radiates through it. The coffee place he has been looking for for nearly a month now. You brought him to it. Did you somehow find out he has been looking for it? Do you know he knows it’s the same place? He breaks himself out of his trance as he parks along the side of your house, carrying his coffee and the bag of food up your driveway.

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

He follows you into your house after hanging up his jacket and toeing off his boots, taking in every piece of decor that just screams you. Stopping the little tour at the couch, you set down your drink and encourage him to do the same. He sets the food on your coffee table before taking another drink and settling in. You wander into the kitchen, unwrapping the sandwiches and putting them on a couple plates, grabbing some napkins and sitting down next to him.

“Is this the coffee you brought me the other week?”

You look up from your own drink with a nod, wiping your mouth to conceal a shy smile. You are unsure how he knows, but the fact that he notices and remembers small things like that makes you feel fuzzy inside. He smiles softly to himself as he tucks into his sandwich, and you can’t help but watch every move he makes. He seems so confident and sure of himself in everything he does; he takes up space and isn’t ashamed, at least if he is he doesn’t let it show.

He is wearing a flannel as usual, today’s choice being an earthy mix of browns and deep oranges and reds. The tones make his usually dark eyes appear bright, and contrast nicely with his deep, chocolate-y hair. Oftentimes, his gold Star of David hangs proudly from the chain around his neck, but today it is tucked into his undershirt. Without realizing what you are doing, you find yourself fishing it out, running your thumb across the worn down metal. His eyes meet yours and you pull away out of realization, embarrassment settling in soon after.

“Sorry. Don’t really know why I did that if I’m being honest.” You laugh awkwardly, turning away from him a little.

He stays quiet, licking his lips. You occupy yourself with one of the tassels on a pillow, beating yourself up for your actions.

“I don’t want to kick you out or anything, but um. I think my migraine is setting in and I should probably take a nap.” Your eyes gloss over as he nods and stands.

He puts his jacket and shoes back on, thanking you before he makes his way back out to his truck. You lock the door behind him, cleaning up the lunch left on the coffee table. He hadn’t bothered to bring his coffee or the other half of his sandwich with him, a tear slipping out as you sit back down. You are confused but too tired to dwell on it in the moment. Dragging yourself upstairs and drawing a bath, you take off your remaining makeup that hasn’t been cried off and strip down before settling into the warm water. Closing your eyes as a few more tears fall, you finally allow yourself to drift off.

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

Thursdays aren’t special anymore when Flip stops showing.

You aren’t sure what boundary was crossed that day two weeks ago, but all you know is that you miss him. He isn’t there when you unlock the doors in the morning, and the phone calls and short visits throughout the week stop happening. You manage to hold yourself together during your shifts, but once you are home and get a few glasses of wine in your system, the floodgates open.

Your coworkers stop mentioning him in conversation, noticing how your body language changes when they do. Life feels different, but this is the new normal and you are going to have to become accustomed eventually.

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

Flip isn’t a fan of Thursdays anymore.

All they remind him of is you and his regretful decision to leave that day two weeks ago. He isn’t sure what came over him, but the unease that settled in when you touched his necklace made the hair on the back of his neck stick up. Laying in bed at night, he continues replaying it over and over in his head, wishing he could go back and do things differently.

It is a Saturday afternoon and Bridges has given them the weekend off after wrapping another case the previous afternoon. There is still copious amounts of paperwork to be done, but that is just something to look forward to on Monday.

Him and Patrice had just finished up their discussion about their latest read when she invites him to join her and Ron for lunch. It isn’t until Ron brings up them starting a new book that he thinks of you, deciding to finally cave and ask his friends for advice.

“And then I just. I left. And I really regret it.” He swirls his drink around in his glass as Patrice smiles sympathetically.

“I’m not ashamed of my religion, but there’s still this-this looming cloud of fear hanging over my head. We talked about so much together; hobbies, family, life. But whenever religion came up I just tuned out. I felt like things had changed for the better after the Klan case, but part of me is still terrified to just. Be me.”

Neither really know what to say. They have never seen Flip this worked up over something so personal before, and don’t know how to comfort him. Ron finally clears his throat, earning Flip’s attention.

“What you’re feeling is completely understandable, Flip. I mean you know better than I do how Jewish people have been treated throughout history. As far as I know, though, they haven’t ever really been treated very well. Of course that doesn’t mean your emotions are any easier to deal with, but-. Um.”

He pauses, trying to put his thoughts into words. Finally, he gives up with a sigh.

“What I’m trying to say is even if she’s the sweetest person in the whole world, it’s understandable why you’re still on edge. Patrice was just telling me about this thing the other day-what did you call it, ‘trice?”

“Intergenerational trauma. The Black Student Union had a recent week-long unit discussing enslavement and the trauma associated with it. It’s now becoming a biological issue. We touched a little on how it can affect other groups of people as well, but of course we mainly spoke about black issues. The findings, though, were fairly the same across the majority of groups with a few exceptions since situations of course differed.”

She stands, grabbing a few pieces of paper from the discussions she had led. Sliding them across the table to Flip, she lets him look them over as she continues.

“The way I explained it was-um-sort of the nature in nature versus nurture as opposed to the nurture most people explain it with. Obviously there’s social aspects that come along with it, but we’re starting to finally learn about underlying effects now tied to genetics. There’s studies and evidence starting to come out from Canada showing that there are completely different stressors in the brains of children of Holocaust survivors--survivors who were children themselves at the time.”

Flip nods, looking down at his drink once more as he tries to comprehend all the information he is hearing and reading. Growing up, his parents never made religion the focal point of their lives; relatives would gather to celebrate on holidays after attending synagogue, but they were never strict with their practice. He hadn’t worn a kippah outside of temple in over two decades, yet he maintains the habit of wearing his Star of David each day. He’s never not been proud of being Jewish.

One of his earliest high school memories was of when he came inside after getting home, only to find his mother crying in the kitchen as she hung up the phone. He had asked what was wrong, but the only response he received was a shake of her head. It wasn’t until weeks later that he learned it was due to a family friend being placed in the hospital after a targeted attack. At the time, hate crimes still hadn’t been written into law, meaning the people who had done it were charged with assault and battery as opposed to the now more fitting charge. He sat alone in his room for a while, trying to come up with any reasonable explanation for why it happened. But he just couldn’t. It was around that time when he started looking into law enforcement; he wanted to protect not only himself and his family, but anyone else who was tormented for being themselves. He continued to wear his necklace, only this time he tucked it into his shirt before leaving the house.

The Klan case forced him to step back and look his religion in the face. Every night he would come home and try to scrub his body clean in the shower, yet he still felt so gross hours later. Eventually these emotions led to him speaking to his mother about it, shedding tears over the phone with her on several occasions about the inner turmoil he had been dealing with. After he had filed his last piece of paperwork on the case, he finally started untucking his necklace from his shirt again.

Ron pats him on the back as a tear rolls down his cheek. He quickly wipes it away, chuckling slightly as he sniffles.

“Don’t want to get too emotional ‘bout it. Just difficult seeing my connections with people suffer.”

“No need to apologize for having big emotions about serious shit. It’s alright to be frustrated and confused. We know what you’re going through to a certain extent, but even if we didn’t, we’d never judge you for it, brother.”

Discussion continues as they finish their meal, Flip starting to feel a bit better as the afternoon ticks by. Glancing at his watch, he decides it is best to head home and spend some time tidying up around his house. Ron leads him to the front door after he says goodbye to Patrice, proposing Flip hit the town with them later that night for a drink and to get his mind off of such a heavy subject. After a bit of consideration, he finally agrees before they say their goodbyes for the time being.

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

You had just gotten out of the shower after a long day, stretching your limbs as you dry off, when the phone rings. Quickly wrapping the towel back around your middle, you sit on the edge of your bed as you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” Flip’s voice rumbles through the other line and you nearly drop the phone.

“Flip. Hi. Are you-um-How are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I just sorta. Well I wanted to call in part to check up on you but um. I thought it would be best to talk about the other week.” His voice trails off a bit at the end, and you know it means he is nervous. In turn, this then makes you nervous as well, wondering what has him so worried.

“I’m really sorry for overstepping. I don’t really know why I did it, but I regretted it immediately after it happened” You find yourself rambling on and on, trying to fill the air with conversation instead of awkward silence.

“and I was looking at you and what you were wearing and then I just. Did it and I’m so sorry. I really miss seeing you and-and haven’t heard your voice in so long” It is as if you can’t stop, word vomit continuing to spill out of your mouth as he cuts you off.

“Y/N it’s alright. It’s okay, I had no intention of yelling at you on this phone call.”

After reassuring you, he begins to speak openly about the emotions he felt during and after the incident. You listen and take what he is saying to heart. You store it away in your brain, wanting to at least walk away having learned something.

“I don’t necessarily regret reacting the way I did. At first I did, but now I feel like I’m realizing how important it was for me to experience. I do regret waiting this long to reach out to Ron and Patrice for guidance, because it would’ve cleared these things up in my brain a lot sooner.”

“I know, but you did reach out and that should count for something. Gotta cut yourself more slack, love.” Flip blushes at your words, biting his lip as he smiles. He stays quiet, finally murmuring,

“I missed you, doll. I’m sorry I stopped visiting. And calling.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand why you did. I’m just glad we’re talking again now.”

The silence this time around is comfortable rather than awkward. You can tell he is deep in thought, trying to shift subjects to something lighter. You allow yourself to process his previous words a little bit more before eventually deciding you want to continue the conversation in person--of course if Flip is okay with something that vulnerable.

“Ron invited me to come out with him and Patrice later tonight. Sorta to get my mind off of everything I mentioned if-um-ya know. If you want to join.”

You break out in a smile as you play with the edge of your towel, resisting the urge to squeal.

“I’d love to.”

“Really?,” he clears his throat, trying not to sound too overly excited, “Cool. I can pick you up around 7:00 or so. It’s supposed to be just kinda casual so um. Don’t need to pull out the black tie formal or anything.” You giggle, making butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“I’ll take you up on that ride offer. See you at 7:00?” He repeats your farewell back to you before ending the call, leaving you to dig through your closet for something to wear.

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

You forgot what it felt like before a big event; how difficult it was to wait around for hours and hours while you anticipate the excitement that awaits. You make the mistake of getting ready far too early, leaving you to stand in your closet and overthink what about what to wear for far too long.

When the clock nears 7:00, you touch up your makeup and check yourself out a bit in the mirror. You had decided on a pair of flared jeans with a halter style tank top, the color complementing your skin tone nicely. The weather is still a bit harsh, so you decide on wearing a cardigan over top that you can easily remove if you get hot whilst out. As you put on some perfume, you suddenly feel overly self conscious about your outfit choice. What if you are too dressed down? Flip said casual but maybe he meant the casual-you-wore-to-work casual? Frantically looking through your closet, you begin to feel tingling waves of anxiety course through your blood. Before you can change, however, the doorbell rings, signaling that Flip has arrived.

You curse under your breath and check yourself over once more. Slipping on a heeled boot, you make your way downstairs and open the front door. Flip is wearing his usual, but you recognize the flannel as either being new or not one you have seen before.

“Come on in. I need to grab my purse quick. Is that shirt new? It looks nice.”

Flip steps inside and out of the cold, glancing down at the muted tones of green and brown while you retrieve your purse from the kitchen.

“Yeah, thank you. I picked up a few up the other day. Figured it was probably time to get some new ones in rotation. You look really nice, too.” He admires you as you walk back over into the entryway, slinging your purse over your shoulder after putting on your jacket. You thank him, boldly deciding to take his hand as you exit.

After you lock your house, he opens the passenger’s side door for you. He closes it once you are settled inside, and makes his way around to get in on the driver’s side. His truck rumbles to life as he turns the key, and he stops to look at you instead of reversing out of your driveway, perplexing you a bit.

“Everything okay?” He nods at your inquiry, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“You just look really nice.” Goosebumps prickle to life along your arms, the depth of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You manage to squeak out another thank you as he smoothes a thumb over your cheek, watching as his eyes glance at your lips. Shit, is this finally happening?, you think to yourself.

“Would you mind if I kissed you, doll?” It is nearly a whisper, but you manage to catch it, shaking your head to say ‘no you wouldn’t mind.’

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips slot together with yours, his hand continuing to cup your cheek. The kiss remains innocent; slow, gentle slides of his lips against yours, warmth twisting around in your belly as you run your fingers through his hair. You let out a nervous, shuddered breath when he pulls away, cheeks hot from all the attention he is giving you. He smiles as you bump your nose against his, still close enough that you could kiss again if you lean forward. Resting his hand on your thigh, he backs out of your driveway and makes his way in the direction of downtown.

“Do we have to meet up with them?” You murmur, tracing small shapes on each of the fingers he has resting on your leg.

“Mm what are you suggesting instead?” He teases.

“Nothing. Just wondering is all.” You feel flustered as he looks over at you, glancing back at the road as he slows down at a red light, before he finally turns his attention back to you.

“Yeah? Just wondering?” You nod, feigning innocence as you notice his eyes flit down to where your bottom lip is tucked under your teeth. He squeezes your thigh, accelerating when the light changes.

Making his way through the heart of downtown, Flip eventually finds a spot to park along the street, getting out and putting some change in the meter. He helps you hop out of his truck, locking the doors before shoving his keys into his pocket. Before you can step up onto the sidewalk, he presses you against the passenger’s side door, leaning down to initiate another kiss.

This time, you hold his face in your hands while his arms sling themselves around your waist in an attempt to hold you closer. You press your hips down onto the thigh placed between yours, the fire from earlier igniting in your stomach again. As he pulls away once more, you whine softly, chasing his lips with your own. He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, tickling your skin with his facial hair.

“Don’t want to leave them waiting, doll. Got time for this later tonight, yeah?”

You nod in agreement, placing a kiss to his lips before gently using your thumb to wipe off the lipstick that has transferred from your mouth to his. He rubs along your side under your cardigan, wishing there wasn’t another layer of fabric to keep him from the warmth of your skin. As he goes in for another kiss, you back away.

“Come on. Don’t want to leave them waiting, remember?” You tease, stepping up onto the sidewalk as you place your hand in his. He shakes his head with a smile as you cross the street together.

Tonight will be interesting.

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

once again, i hope you enjoyed !! i’ll try to post as much during the school year, but i don’t want to make any promises just yet. leave me some feedback in the comments or in my inbox :))

#flip zimmerman #flip x reader #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman imagine #adam driver character #blackkklansman #reader insert #fluff #angst

[drivinmrdriver]

Song Series:  Whatta Man (Flip Zimmerman)

Working at the station had it’s ups and downs. A down being the filing of paperwork of every man who came up to your desk. Colorado Springs, now considering itself being an all inclusive employer, you sat as the first woman in the office and you were very noticed by most for it. One in particular. 

 This is where we get to the perks of your job. Seeing the burly man walking into the station taking off his coat and putting it on the rack tossing you a wink as he ran the large hand through his long dark hair. Just the sight made you push your knees together and act busy again on the type writer. That is before a shadow cast over you shielding you from the LED office lights. 

“I have some paperwork from this case Jimmy and I just closed. Drug activities, the usual. I’ll help you file them. The last name is a ‘R’ and I know you can’t quite reach that shelf without assistance.” Flip said leaning over your desk. The whiff of cigarettes wafting around your face causing a blush across your face. 

“You know I can manage, Mr Zimmerman.” You mumbled grabbing the file he laid on your desk before standing and turning to walk down the hallway and to the file room. Turning the light switch you let out a yelp seeing Flip followed you into the empty room, “Jesus Christ, Phillip. Don’t do that shit.” 

“Skip the formalities, Miss (L/N). We both know that we know each other enough for you to call me Flip.” He whispered as you walked past him to the ‘R’ shelf scooting a stool under it to reach it yourself. 

You blushed remembering your shared night at the disco last weekend. A few drinks, a few flirts, next thing you know the two of you were sharing breaths in between the sheets of his silk bed. 

“That never happened. I’ve drawn a veil over last Saturday. I suggest you do the same before the chief catches on. It took a lot for me to get where I am, you too. We shouldn’t jeopardize it..” You whisper placing the file in the proper bin. 

Leaning his hand on one side of her against the shelf and mimicking the action with his other he had her closed in as he breathed in her scent, “Never happened. So that must have been someone else, with your hair...your clothes...your body..begging for more in the bathroom at the disco, in my truck, at my house...in my shower” 

You suck in a sharp breath feeling him behind you before stepping off the stool and turning to face him looking up through your lashes, “What’s up with you? I thought you didn’t want us to be public. That was a one time thing.” 

“Yeah well, I cracked a case today, I’m feeling unstoppable and would like to spend the rest of the day with whomst I have a connection.” Flip whispered mouthing against the skin of your neck before his large hands slowly lifted your hands above your head holding both wrists with one hand. 

“What a man..” You breathe gasping as his lips linger over yours for a split moment before he chuckled. 

 “A man? I’m the man, darling.” Flip smirked lifting your chin with his free hand before finally connecting your lips getting closer and closer backing you against the file shelf causing it to rattle. Reaching his hand up without even looking he caught the files about to shower over the both of your heads. 

You laugh against his lips giving in as you saw people walking out of the station through the small window of the door. It was the end of the day anyways, you hold a finger to his chest, “One more night and then we figure out what we’re going to do between us. But for tonight, red lantern. You’re paying.” 

“Goes without saying, baby girl.” Flip smirked pushing off the shelf giving your cheek a stroke before sauntering out of the file room leaving you a weak-kneed mess.

#flip zimmerman #imagines #adam driver #fluff #blackkklansman #flip zimmerman x reader #adam driver x you

[eddiesfaerie]

Mirrorball

Summary: Your first time meeting detective Flip Zimmerman is out on the dance floor. (5.2k words) 

Warnings: slightly NSFW? (this takes place one year after the events depicted in the film Blackkklansman, so possible spoilers!) mentions of the KKK, mentions of police, f!reader, implied age gap, drinking, Flip is an asshole and a brat tamer and it shows but he’s also a ✧ gentleman ✧, thigh grinding(?), mentions of sexy stuff, early 80s grooviness, disco shenanigans, me making myself horny

A/N: this is very loosely based on mirrorball by taylor swift. that song just makes me think of Flip so I just literally had to get this out of my system. totally down to write more of these two if anyone would want that 👀. Flip Zimmerman is THE disco king. Pls enjoy <3

Part 2 

The cool September night nipped gently at your skin as you made your way into the local disco. Dressed in your best white baby tee, the best fit flared jeans you owned, and the perfect white disco heels your blood was pumping and you were ready to dance the night away. You didn’t bother bringing your trusty denim jacket because as soon as you hit the dance floor, which would be immediately upon entrance, you knew you would have no more need for it.

No matter how excited you were for your weekly escape on the dance floor, this was the first night butterflies fluttered in your stomach without relent. You shook your head, remembering almost too vividly the conversation you had over the phone with your old college friend, Patrice. She would also be attending the disco tonight with her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s… work partner.

This is where things got tricky for both you and Patrice. Her boyfriend and her boyfriend’s work partner were cops. Not exclusively cops, (they made sure to always distinguish themselves as “detectives”) but still, cops. And you and Patrice did NOT fuck with cops.

That was until the KKK bust about a year ago. Patrice battled with her personal morals for a long time on whether she should pursue her relationship with Ron, but you had encouraged her to see where it went. She clearly had feelings for him and he cared for her as well, so for once you told her to follow her gut, no matter what his job was. And after that infamous KKK case was closed (or more so, thrown away) Ron was more of a detective than a cop and well, that was good enough for Patrice. And you were happy for her.

Now, this is where things got tricky for you. You had already planned to go dancing tonight; seeing as it was Friday night and dancing at the disco was your weekly Friday night activity. Patrice said she would be joining with Ron and now, somehow, mysteriously, suspiciously, Ron’s partner, Flip Zimmerman, who just so happened to be as single as you and quite literally the most beautiful man in Colorado Springs, was also tagging along for the ride. This would either be the most awkward, third-wheeling night of your life or… well, that was about the only outcome you could see coming from tonight.

You had never actually met Flip before, but based on what you've heard about him from either Patrice or Ron, you could not imagine a disco being this man’s idea of a fun time. He seemed old, even for his age. Sure he was older than you, but he seemed like an actual old man. Grumpy, stubborn, sassy and just plain rude to everyone and anyone. A total grouch.

You rolled your eyes as you approached the door, your last chances for bailing leaving you as you waved to the bouncer, a familiar face, entered the building and headed straight to the bar for your first drink of the night.

//

Ron and Patrice pulled up to the disco in their car, Flip hot on their trail in his truck, parking next to one another in the parking lot. Flip’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel from how hard he was gripping it on the way over, he felt like crashing his truck just for an excuse to not come but he felt like he may regret that decision sooner rather than later.

You’re going to be there.

Flip’s never met you, but he’s heard about you through Ron and Patrice who never seem to stop bothering him about it. He appreciates the effort but they’ve gone from endearing to straight up fucking annoying. Flip loves Ron, his brother-in-crime, so to speak, and he has a soft spot for Patrice as well, but he could not imagine you to live up to all the hype they’ve given you at this point.

No offence, of course. You were just some kid to him.

A knock at his window startled him, erasing any image of you he was trying to conjure up in his mind. What would you be wearing? What colour would your eyes be? Would you dance? Did you like to dance? Did you drink? What drink do you typically order?

“Zimmerman!” Ron said, pressing his forehead against Flip’s window causing Flip to roll his eyes and unbuckle himself from his seat which he hadn’t even done yet, so wrapped up in overthinking the night ahead of him, overthinking about you.

“Can’t open the door if you’re pressed against it like that, Rookie.”

Ron backed away, going to wrap his arm around Patrice’s waist as Flip got out of the car and slammed the door behind him a little louder than he probably should have.

“M’not even a Rookie anymore, partner.” Ron teased, pulling Patrice alongside him as the three of them made their way into the disco.

“Yeah you keep telling yourself that, Rookie.” Flip grumbled, causing Patrice to giggle and Ron to shoot her a glare. The trio made their way into the joint and loud dance music quickly flooded them.

The place was absolutely packed, even for a Friday night. Made it seem like Colorado Springs was the most happening town in the West. Sweaty bodies moving and grooving to the music like it was still the seventies. The giant dance floor took up most of the main floor, one side of it lined with a bar that was clearly stocking any drink one could think of. A short staircase near the back of the dance floor led to a slightly elevated platform filled with a large seating area lined with couches and booths for people who just wanted to enjoy the atmosphere, music, alcohol and/or drugs. Flip wondered which crowd you would be a part of.

Patrice said your name and Flip froze, “she should be around here somewhere. I know she got here before us.” Patrice said over the music.

Ron nodded and Flip felt his hands get clammy. Why the fuck did he come to this, he wondered? He loves a good disco just as much as the next person, but this weird blind date situation was not sitting right with him. The three of them made their way through the dance floor towards the staircase at the back, trying to get a bit of elevation to have a better chance at spotting you.

The song changed and the crowd erupted in a cheer, it was a popular one, Flip knew that. You would have to be living under a rock not to. As they climbed the staircase and came to rest against the banister, the crowd made a bit of room near the middle of the dance floor for a duo who started to groove together hypnotically to the beat. Patrice giggled and clapped her hands, covering her mouth to hide her wide smile.

“Oh my god, that’s her.” She laughed giddily, tugging on Ron’s arm. Flip looked to the two girls dancing, the two who once seemed so far away and swallowed up by the crowd, now seemed so much closer and clearly in his line of sight. Which one were you…

“The one in the jeans.” Ron answered, reading Flip’s mind. He gave him a knowing smile and went back to casually grooving with Patrice as all three of them watched you dance with a girl you didn’t even know.

//

You both laughed at each other as the song went on, your bodies moving with ease as you danced around and with one another, tugging on each other's arms to spin or saucily moving your bodies just close enough together for people to stare. You didn’t know her, the song had just come on and you both gasped at the same time. She looked at you and asked you to dance, why would you say no? She was pretty and you felt a friendly competition coming on. And it was hardly a competition at that, she clearly had you beat, but it was all in good spirits, it was just nice to lose yourself with someone else to one of the most popular songs of the last three years.

//

You shimmered and shined from the side lines where Flip watched you. He felt dumbstruck, like a complete fool, watching you dance with another woman. The way your jeans clung to your body, yet swayed alongside your feet.

Christ, you were a fucking vision, Flip thought. Now the nerves were really going to get the best of him. Soon enough you would find the three of them and he would have to have a conversation with you about something other than that crazy fucking dancing you were doing. And he didn’t even know you, how the fuck was this an ideal situation to meet someone in? Why did he let Ron and Patrice convince him to do this? Why were you so fucking beaut-

Flip pulled out his pack of cigarettes from his flannel pocket, popping a single cig out and lighting it quickly, trying to calm his nerves before they got the best of him. He took a long, long drag and continued to watch you through the cloud of smoke he blew from his mouth.

The song abruptly ended, sending the crowd in a light cheer before the next one transitioned seamlessly into the stuffy, humid air. Some people around you and your lady-friend applauded you both and you seemed a bit embarrassed, maybe not having realized people were really, really watching. Flip thought that was cute. He watched you hug the girl goodbye as she headed off with her friends again, and you headed to the bar.

Fuuuuck, fuck.

“Anyone want a drink?” Flip asked, worrying his lip between his teeth as he kept his eyes trained on you, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips and rubbing his clammy hands together to appear more... normal?

“Oh yeah, could you get me a-”

“Great, I’ll get that.” Flip cut Ron off, just needing an excuse to get away and see you up close without out right saying: Okay time to go make a complete fucking fool of myself to our ‘mutual’ friend.

Almost a head taller than everyone else on the floor, it was easy for Flip to keep his eyes on you as he sauntered over to the bar, mentally giving himself a pep talk that he didn’t usually need. Well, he didn’t usually hit on women in bars or clubs or discos, he was fine being single, it was actually women that pursued him, making it easy for him to charm them even though it never lasted longer than a few weeks at a time. But now he was the one making the move and it scared the shit out of him. Uncharted territory.

The closer he got to you, the more he could make out of your features, and the more he was regretting his decision to come and see you all by himself. He needed encouragement, maybe liquid encouragement, which he stupidly hadn't gotten yet. It should have been the first thing he’d done when he got here. And this fucking cigarette wasn’t helping like it usually did.

A few bar stools away from you now, (the bar seeming to drag on into infinity), he realized there was some schmuck sitting next to you, who you weren’t even paying any mind to. What a perfectly good seat gone to waste.

“Beat it, pal.” Flip grunted, cigarette between his lips, tapping the man roughly on the shoulder. Either the guy recognized him as a cop or just wasn’t in the mood for any trouble, he got up and left immediately, leaving the spot next to you vacant and cold.

//

You heard him coming. You knew he was watching you. You saw all of them come in and watched observingly as they made their way through the joint and up the steps. You had seen them from the corner of your eye as you put on a little show with your new friend. You liked the way Flip looked when he was entranced, you like the way it felt for him to devour you with his eyes.

“Beat it, pal.” That was the first time you had heard his voice and you tried to suppress the shiver it sent up your spine. So deep and bassy. You kept your head straight ahead, occasionally looking down at your drink, fiddling with it in your hands.

It felt like the man who was sitting next to you flew off his chair and it was suddenly filled with the most radiating, warm energy you think you had ever felt emitted off another person. Cigarette smoke filled your senses and fogged your mind, you could see him blowin git out of his nose in your peripheral vision.

Flip had come to sit next to you, his thighs so wide that his knees nearly spread enough to knock into yours.

“Detective.” You greeted cooly, taking a sip from your drink and avoiding eye contact. Flip greeted you back just as cooly, throwing your name back at you. You don’t think your name sounded so good falling off of someone’s lips before. You internally groaned.

“Quite the little show you put on out there with your friend.” Flip said, taking another exaggerated drag from his cigarette, cheeks hollowing out slightly.

“Stranger.” You said, taking another sip, continuing to avoid his burning stare. You could feel his eyes on you and the temptation to look was almost overpowering, you avoided it like you would Medusa.

“What?”

“She was a stranger, I don’t know her. Didn’t know her. She gave me her number.” You giggled into your glass, taking your final sip from the now empty glass, setting it down on the countertop.

Flip bit his lip. Why were you so fucking sexy? You wouldn’t even look at him. He suppressed the urge to grab your face and turn it himself to make you look at him. Maybe you’d like that, he thought.

“Two mojitos. With ice.” Flip called to the bartender. You turned to look at him then, while his head was turned away in the opposite direction. You soaked in what you could before he turned back to look at you.

His hair practically begged for your hands to run through it. It looked soft, wavy and just stupidly perfect. He was wearing the world’s tightest red flannel with a white shirt poking from underneath the unbuttoned collar. The buttons strained against his chest, god he was probably so fit, how big did he have to be to make the buttons look like they were about to burst? Even his biceps were pulling the material taught. His thighs, which you had noticed when he sat down next to you, were equally big and covered by a lovely denim, you did love a man in jeans. You giggled to yourself, which caused him to look back at you.

Fuck, those eyes. Honey, caramel, cinnamon, chocolate, brown sugar.

“What’s so funny doll?”

“I just didn’t take you for a cocktails kind of guy.” You laughed again. You weren’t trying to make fun of him, you just couldn’t help it. It was the alcohol, not the nerves, you told yourself.

“What makes you say that?” He smirked, you could tell he was trying not to but you could see the way his lips twitched, then proceeded to curl around his cigarette seductively.

“Oh nothing.” You swatted the air with your hand, wanting desperately to change the subject before you accidentally mentioned how large he was and how funny it is to picture a tiny little cocktail glass in his enormous hands.

Your two glasses were quickly placed in front of Flip who handed the bartender a bill. He slid a glass over to you and your fingers brushed as you took it from him. He was warm. You wanted to touch him again. He put his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray.

“Thanks.” You muttered, quickly bringing the glass to your lips, needing more in your system to distract you from how distractingly mesmerizing he is. He had good taste, the drink was perfectly sweet with just enough kick to keep you buzzed. You both locked eyes as you took a sip from your respective drinks, your cheeks feeling hot from his gaze, it made you look away as you set your glass back on the countertop.

Why did you keep looking away from him? Flip began to worry that his presence was unwanted and he debated just getting up and letting you enjoy your evening with your new friend and refilled drink. Maybe he was coming on too intensely? He had definitely gotten that one before, he wasn’t sure how many rookies at the police dept had quit or been re-stationed because of his intensity alone. He just likes to think that they weren’t cut out for the job, and besides, if they couldn’t handle Flip Zimmerman, well, maybe they couldn’t handle-

“Do you want to dance?” His mouth cut his own train of thought off, like half of him was bored of hearing himself think obsessively and waste more of the night not on you. His abruptness made you giggle and you finally looked back at him, swaying gently from side to side in your barstool. Flip thinks he’d like to have you do that in his lap, swaying from side to side, swivelling carelessly...

“I didn’t take you for a dancer.” You maintain eye contact now. More confident than before, challenging him.

“That’s the second thing you’ve assumed about me tonight. And the second thing you’ve been terribly wrong about.” Flip chuckled, downing his drink in one final gulp. You watched the way he threw his head back, the way he swallowed, the way his throat bobbed. You wanted to touch his neck, press your lips across the delicate skin, bruise him.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Flip pushed. He was beginning to think you liked being difficult, that you liked making him work for it, liked him coaxing your answers out of you. Maybe he did. He hoped you liked it too, you little defiant-

“What if I told you I don’t dance with men?” There was a glimmer in your eye. Flip decided right then and there that you were evil, you fucking temptress. You were doing this on purpose.

Motherfucker.

Just how far could he push you before you gave in? Before you gave up on this stupid fucking act?

“Then I would be incredibly disappointed to hear that.” Flip frowned, teasingly. Maybe he should just get up from his seat and find Ron and Patrice, two could play at your dumb little game. He did in fact stand up, he straightened himself out and without a single glance back at you, he turned and walked away. The only thing stopping him was your hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. He looked back expectantly, trying to hide his knowing smirk.

So you did have a limit to which you were willing to play.

“What if I told you… I’d make an exception. Just this once.”

Oh, Flip liked the sound of that.

Without another word, Flip unbuttoned and shrugged off his flannel, placing it on the bar countertop, leaving him in just his white t-shirt that clung way too well to his body. Fuck, what were you getting yourself into? He really was huge, massive. You resisted the urge to just climb him and beg him to take you home. But you didn’t role that way, and you were not about to make that many exceptions for one man.

But he was one hell of a man…

“Keep an eye on this.” Flip called to the bartender, referring to his flannel, without breaking his eyes from yours. Honey, caramel, cinnamon, chocolate -

“Ready?” He held his hand out to you. The song that was playing faded and another came on. Without fail, you recognized this one as well and you couldn’t help the smile that threatened to split your face in two. Be it the alcohol or Flip, your cheeks burned and were growing numb from how hard you were trying to stop smiling. You looked down at his hand and bit your lip, looking back up at him through your lashes and nodded.

“Ready.”

Flip pulled you from your seat and whisked you onto the dance floor with more force than you were expecting, causing you to yelp and grab onto his bicep for balance. He placed a hand on the small of your back to steady you, now in the heat of the dance floor surrounded by glistening bodies. You let out a small laugh, a nervous one. Somehow, you forgot how to move your feet, forgot what it felt like to feel the rhythm of a song, lose yourself in the music and just move. You had been dancing with that girl, what? Twenty minutes ago? And now you could barely move a muscle underneath the intense gaze of detective Flip Zimmerman. He seemed to find this amusing.

“Come on, you’ve got this.” Flip mused, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips. He placed his hands on your hips, making your eyelids and limbs feel heavy. He helped you sway them in time with his, your eyes immediately going to his hips watching him as he watched you become more and more comfortable dancing around him.

Maybe you really didn’t dance with men after all, Flip thought.

Eventually you were able to shake off your nerves and tell yourself to just pretend he wasn’t there, or pretend he was that girl from earlier. You both began to sort of dance by yourselves but still in very close proximity to each other, the occasional graze of his hand along your shoulder, waist, hips, ass bringing you out of your head and back to the dance floor with the reality of the fact that you were indeed dancing with a cop and people were staring at you. Or maybe they were staring at Flip who just so happened to be a stupidly incredible dancer.

For his height and length at which his limbs protruded out from his body, he should not have that much control over them, that much coordination. But he’s a detective, you remembered. He fought in ‘Nam, he was a trained professional in the police force, of course he was coordinated, of course he was skilled with his body. He had to use it everyday. He had to be strong, tough, resilient, a wall of pure muscle.

Fuck, you were starting to understand why Patrice threw some of her cares into the wind when it came to Ron being a cop, detective, whatever. Flip was undeniably sexy and as you danced with him out on the middle of the floor, you didn’t think you could want him anymore than you did in that moment. The way his muscles rippled underneath his shirt as he moved to the music was utterly hypnotizing.

Before you could even realize what you were doing, you dropped low to the floor, reaching your hands to glide up his entire body slowly, slowly, slowly, passing over his muscular thighs, dragging dangerously close to his crotch, his hips, his waist, over his toned stomach, his hard pecs, scratching at his neck as you looped one hand around his throat, then strutting around him in a circle, letting your hand run along his neck, over his shoulders. You giggled to yourself stupidly, hugging him from behind, suddenly embarrassed at that little show you just put on, wanting desperately to disappear behind him. Flip grabbed you from behind, splitting his legs open and somehow sliding you between them, underneath him and then back to face him again.

He looked down at you with that same look from before; hunger, starvation, thirst. You were both still dancing even though the movements blurred in your mind, you felt like the two of you were moving in slow motion as your bodies grew closer, closer, closer together, the music fading out as well. The only sensation that seemed to knock you out of your trance was Flip’s hand slipping into yours, interlocking his fingers through your smaller ones. He was warm, so, so warm and you didn’t want to let go. You tugged on his hand to bring it up to your lips, to kiss, but he tugged harder. He tugged your whole arm, actually. He tugged your whole arm and your whole body followed, off the dance floor, through the crowd, through the back door, around the corner till you were against the brick wall, outside.

You were breathless, your ears ringing from the adrenaline of being so close to him, dancing with him but also from the loud music that was still pounding beyond those two doors next to you. Flip stood in front of you, he fished out his cigarette pack from his jeans and you wondered when he put it in his pants pocket, you remembered it being in his flannel pocket. Why were you thinking about that? Maybe you were tipsy, or drunk off of him.

Flip stuck the cigarette between his teeth and lit it effortlessly, like he had done it a million times. He probably has. He maintained eye contact with you up against that wall as he sucked and sucked the toxins out of his cigarette, his cheeks hollowing beautifully before blowing the smoke out through his nose, making you want to whimper and drop to your knees. If you had been any drunker you think you might have.

He took annoyingly slow steps towards you, and with each one you felt your breaths become heavier and heavier, like he was pressing a weight against your chest the closer he got to you. Another puff from his cigarette.

“Hold this for me.” He said suddenly, holding his cigarette out for you to take. You nodded silently, not trusting your own voice as you took it from him, your fingers brushing against one another; electricity, voltage, lightning.

Flip grabbed the back of your head, fisted your hair between his fingers, tipped your head back and shoved his tongue down your throat. You moaned into his open mouth, shameless as your lips wrapped around his, wet and slippery. His other hand, now free from his cigarette thanks to you, came to grab your cheeks between his thumb and index, pinching your jaw softly to pry your mouth open and keep it that way so he could devour you more easily.

He backed you up against the wall, his muscular thigh coming to rest between your legs, pressing right up against your most sensitive area, causing you to moan into his mouth again. He pulled your hair harder, groaned against your lips and you desperately ground yourself against his thigh, you couldn't help it, it was right there applying the right amount of pressure and you were beginning to seriously unravel for him. Putty in his hands. His mustache and goatee tickled your face but it only spurred you on more to kiss him with equal fervour, now wanting to devour him yourself. Your tongues massaged one anothers, over, under and back again, you had truly never been kissed like this before.

Flip suddenly pulled away, gasping for breath and you audibly whined at the loss of contact, your lips begging for his to come back. At your complaint, he gave you a few teasingly small pecks before resting his forehead against yours again.

“I bet you think you’re real cute, dancing out there like that.” Flip said, his voice the deepest you had heard it all night, you let out a satisfied hum. You decided then that you would do anything he asked you.

“Hmm, you seem to think so.” Your eyes boring into his, then back down to his lips again. So plump, swollen and red. You did that to him. You wanted to keep doing that to him.

“You sure are a fucking brat, aren’t you?” He spat at you with pure hunger in his voice, pushing your body harder against the wall, causing you to whimper and screw your eyes shut momentarily, the slight pain turning into pleasure. How was he doing this to you?

“It doesn’t seem to be bothering you that much, the fact that I’m a brat.” You spat back at him with equal want. Flip groaned and tightened his fist in your hair even more than he previously had.

“Honey, you have no idea what it’s doing to me.”

His voice was quiet all of a sudden. The need not gone from his voice, but his voice just above a whisper. It rumbled his chest when he spoke. You reached your hand down to palm him through his jeans and you weren’t surprised to find how hard he was there, but you gasped at its size. Flip gabbed your wrist and pinned it above your head, baring his teeth at you slightly. He was holding himself back, you could tell, it was like it almost pained him.

“Flip, please,” You begged, your first time begging on the first date. “Please, I need to touch you.”

You closed your eyes and rested your head back against the brick wall in defeat. You felt Flip’s lips ghost over the skin of your neck before he sank his teeth into the skin causing you to cry out his name. He quickly pulled his teeth away from your skin and licked around the irritated flesh several times, pressing his plush lips against the quickly purpling skin.

Flip knew you were nowhere near intoxicated enough to not know what was going on, but he didn’t want to rush you into things that you might regret tomorrow. He didn’t want to risk not seeing your pretty little face again just to get his cock in your mouth tonight. No matter how badly he wanted to see you there on the ground outside the disco, bruising your knees for him, his cock deep in your throat, tears falling down your cheeks as-

Not tonight, not tonight, not tonight.

“Come by the station tomorrow. Don’t even think about covering this up.” He murmured against your skin, referring to the hickey he left, his mark on you. Breathless and at loss for words in your swimming pool of a brain, you nodded your head with fervour at his request.

Flip pulled away from your neck to look into your eyes with such intent, such meaning. Use your goddamn words, he thought.

“Tell me you’ll come.” He wanted to add a ‘please’ at the end of his request, but it wasn’t really a request. No, he needed to see you again. This was not going to be a one off thing, Flip was sure of that. Even after just one night of dancing with you. You smiled up at him and said,

“I’ll come.” 

The double meaning behind your words made you feel hot and look away from him. You’d come as many times as he’d let you, you thought, your heart pounding in your chest at the mere idea of him taking you in any way he wanted, for as long as he wanted, as hard as he wanted. Flip gripped your chin again, forcing you to meet his dark, inky eyes.

“I’m gonna fix that attitude of yours one day.” You smiled up at him, a perfect shit eating grin to match his own. 

“I’m counting on it, Detective.”

#flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #reader insert #flip zimmerman smut #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman x you #my writing #mirrorball #blackkklansman

[valkyriekill]

hello! my name is valkyrie, or val for short and i'm officially going to open up my fic requests! i'm not new to the adcu fandom, i actually used to write for it up until a few months ago for undisclosed reasons under a different name, but now i'm back!

i will write about:

kylo ren

clyde logan

flip zimmerman

charlie barber

paterson

adam sackler

and phillip altman!

now for something a little more serious. i'm willing to write just about anything, but here's a small list of things i will flat out refuse to fulfill:

ddlg/age regression

watersports

real person fiction (i.e i won't be writing about adam driver himself, i will only write about his characters)

underage

incest (or anything involving pseudo-incest or step-parents/siblings)

i will write nsfw but i will only take nsfw requests from those who are 18+. i do not write nsfw for minors and this is non-negotiable.

please respect me and my boundaries and we will get along just fine! i'm excited to get back into the writing game!

#kylo ren #star wars #logan lucky #clyde logan #adam driver #adcu #ben solo #kylo ren x reader #clyde logan x reader #charlie barber #marraige story #blackkklansman #flip zimmerman x reader #paterson x reader #girls show #adam sackler #flip zimmerman #adam sackler x reader #adcu imagines

[little-diable]

Watch it - Flip Zimmerman (fluff)

Request by anon: So I was thinking what if Flip liked the only female officer who is really feisty and talks back to the sexist officers, she gets hurt during a mission and Flip goes to see her and she teases him and accidentally makes him confess he likes her? Thank you my love

Thank you so much for requesting a Flip imagine. Hope you like it. Enjoy my loves. xxx

“I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut, if you want to go home, without a nice, black eye gracing your features.”, (y/n)s eyes were focused on the file in her hands, smirking as she listened to Flips chuckles, eyes challenging David, advising him not to keep on talking. The officer huffed, turned his back on (y/n) and Flip and stormed out of the office, muttering something under his breath, that would probably enrage (y/n) even further. 

Being the only female officer in Colorado Springs came with certain prices to pay, you had to have a tough skin, being able to talk back to the sexist officers, that told you, that you belong in the kitchen and not in a police station. (Y/n) was grateful for the many hours, where her older brothers had roughened her up, showed her how to defend herself, probably where her foul mouth came from. 

Flip Zimmerman, the officer that worked alongside (y/n), admired her, not only because of the way she would talk back and take nothing from anybody, but also for her loving personality, knowing that she’d always have his back. He’d find himself watching her from across the room almost every day, Flip would still call her ‘rookie’, loving the smirk that would tug on her lips as she’d ram her elbow into his side, telling him to “watch it”. 

Despite her hard shell, (y/n) liked to sneak a few homemade cookies into the station, all for Flip, would bring him coffee every morning, telling herself, that she was just being friendly. Of course she wasn't just being ‘friendly’, (y/n) liked Flip a lot more than she’d let on, but this was a secret she’d keep locked away from everybody. 

She got pulled into the KKK case relatively quickly, shadowing the members alongside Ron as Flip would take on Rons personality. The boys would worry about her nonstop, trying to tell her to “keep back”, ignoring the way she’d glare at them, not listening to their commands. Deep down she’d adore the way Ron and Flip would try to protect her, ignoring the fluttering of her heart as Flip would slightly pull her behind his massive frame, keeping her from throwing herself into the fire. 

“Psycho Killer” by The Talking Heads blasted through Flips car as he drove (y/n) to where they’d meet Jimmy, he was smoking a cigarette, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, singing the lyrics. (Y/n) couldn’t stop laughing, Flips voice got higher and higher, emphasizing the “Oh, oh, oh, oh, aye-ya-ya-ya-ya”, he chuckled, loving the smile that she wore on her lips. 

His voice turned more serious as the song ended, “you’ll stay with Jimmy, alright rookie?.”, Flip grasped her jaw, tracing her skin, smirking as she ripped her face away from his hold, “don’t tell me what to do, Zimmerman”. (Y/n) kissed his cheek, shot him one last glance before she climbed out of his car, she’d stay behind with Jimmy, observe Connie and see what the members were up to. 

Jimmy blabbered about god knows what, (y/n) tried her best to swallow down the groan, that was about to leave her mouth, she truly did, but, she didn’t sign up for this, didn’t become an officer, just to stay behind in a car and ‘obsereve’. "I'll go and find a toilet, you stay here, alright?”, Jimmy took another drag of his cigarette and stepped out of the van, not picking up the relieved sigh that fell from her lips. (Y/n)s eyes were focused on the street, slowly moving her body forwards as she watched Connie leave the venue and walk towards her car. 

“What are you up to, Connie?”, she muttered, (y/n) didn’t think twice before she started the car and began to follow her, not caring about Jimmy or the way Flip would have her ass later on. It took a while, till Connie parked her car, “shit”, (y/n) watched her fumble around with the mailbox, only now realizing, that Connie was about to place a bomb. (Y/n)s hands were getting sweaty, she grasped her gun and stepped out of the car, set on stopping Connie from going any further. 

But as Connie ran towards the car and shifted the package underneath, Rons car shot around the corner, “finally”, (y/n) moved towards the car, knowing that she should try and get the bomb. She seemed to move on autopilot, not noticing the way Ron was being beat up by a cop, nor did she notice Felix car nearing. She was laying on the crosswalk, desperately trying to grasp the package, her mind seemed to be shut off, she didn’t think about the risk she was taking, only trying to keep everybody nearby safe. 

“(Y/n)!”, Rons voice ripped her out of her trance, “run.”, her natural instincts seemed to kick in, making her rise from the floor and beginning to run away from the car, but a loud bang made her freeze on the spot, a massive heatwave embraced her and ripped her off her feet. 

(Y/n) banged her head on the pavement, groaning as she wrapped her arms around her head, trying to protect herself from the explosion. Her head was spinning, she felt blood drip out of her nose, her breathing seemed to slow down, the last thing she heard was Flip screaming “undercover cop, fucking idiot”, then everything turned back. 

Flip was focused on Ron, helping him out of the handcuffs, ignoring Rons annoyed “you’re late”. “I’ll call Jimmy and (y/n), let’s see if-”, Ron jogged towards (y/n)s frame and called Flips name, screaming at Patrice to call an ambulance. “Fucking hell, rookie.”, Flip whispered as he sunk to his knees next to her, checking her faint pulse, his heart was rapidly beating, all the different scenarios were running through his mind, he was desperately trying not to think about the “what if’s”. 

He followed the ambulance to the hospital, anxiously sitting in the waiting hall, only leaving to smoke a cigaret, trying to calm his nerves. It took them a while, to flick her together, she had a few broken ribs and her nose was slightly cracked, Flips hands were still balled into fists as he thought about her injuries, hating himself for not being able to protect her. 

“You can go in now, if you’d like.”, the nurse smiled at him, eyes ranking up and down his frame, hoping, that he’d notice her advances, but Flip couldn’t care less. He stormed into her room, eyes finding hers, he let out a relieved sigh, grasped her hand, “you look like shit, rookie.”. The sound of her chuckle hallowed through the room, a small “fuck you” fell from her lips, her whole body was hurting, she felt exhausted, though grateful, that Flip was right there with her. 

“God, I was so scared, (y/n), you promised to stay with Jimmy.”, he couldn’t help but scold her, “you could have died, rookie. What would I do without your annoying ass chasing me through the department, huh? I can’t lose you.”. Her eyebrows were furrowed together, she was intensely watching him, “oh, stop it Flip, you would have done the same.”, she felt way too tired to keep on fighting with him. She patted the space next to her, telling him to crawl into her bed and wrap his big arms around her frame, (y/n) needed to feel him close, desperate for some kind of safety. 

He squeezed himself into the bed, (y/n) placed her head on his chest and yawned against his skin, smiling as he ran his hand through her (y/h/c) hair. She could hear his heart rapidly beating against his ribcage, Flip felt nervous, still a bit shaken up, from finding her unconscious earlier on. “I need you to promise me something, rookie.”, he whispered, Flip closed his eyes, trying to sort his thoughts, “Promise me, that you’ll never do something as reckless as this again.”. 

(Y/n) grasped his hand and interlaced her fingers with hers, “why do you care that much?”, she whispered, hoping, that he’d finally voice out, what was going on inside of his head. “Because I love you and I don’t want to imagine a life, without you in it.”, Flip rasped out, he was freaking out on the inside, the tall man felt scared, truly scared, not one to talk about his feelings, simply like that. A chuckle fell from (y/n)s lips, she closed her eyes, “I love you too, Flip.”, she was drifting off into another dreamless sleep, not noticing the relieved sigh, that fell from his lips. 

It took (y/n) a few weeks to recover, Flip had stayed by her side, he’d read to her, had watched some television with her, while she was cuddled into his side, keeping herself from moving around too much. People would cheer for her and Flip as they’d finally return to the department, not being able to hide their relationship, their glances, smiles and stolen touches had been way too obvious. 

Ron was currently on the phone with David Duke, Flip was sitting on Rons desk, right next to him, surrounded by Jimmy and Trapp, (y/n) placed between Flips thighs. All were trying to tone down the volume of their chuckles, (y/n) pressed her head into the crook of Flips neck, giggling against his skin, he had his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, barely able to stop laughing. 

(Y/n) felt grateful for her boys, knowing that they’d have her back no matter what, just like she’d try and protect them for the rest of her life, hopefully side by side with Flip. 

#Flip Zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman #ron stallworth #blackkklansman #Flip Zimmerman x reader #Flip Zimmerman fluff #adam driver #Adam Driver imagine #Adam Driver x reader #flip Zimmerman scenario #flip Zimmerman one shot #Adam driver one shot #flip #zimmerman #flip imagine #flip x reader