#tmmm fic

[kingyasaid]

The photo

[theresawritesstuff]

MidgeLenny: “Less apologizing. More kissing.”

(this one got steamy)

New Year's Eve 1960

She slipped quietly up to the open bar, her sights set more on the familiar figure standing there than they were on procuring herself a cocktail.

"Fancy seeing you here."

She smirked to herself at the surprise on his face as Lenny turned around, her sneak attack successful.

Still, she kept her tone casual. "Would have thought you'd be ringing in the new year on a beach somewhere instead of back in another blizzard."

Lenny chuckled, waving the bartender over for her. "Beaches are overrated."

She arched a curious brow at him, waiting to see if he felt like giving her any further explanation.

He smiled sheepishly, continuing, "Gordon invited all the guests of the show that were on this past year. My manager thought it would be a good idea. Try to play nice and all that."

"I see," she replied, accepting her martini from the bartender.

He leaned an elbow on the bar, coming in a little closer. "The real question is what brings you here? Because I am quite certain I would have remembered seeing you next to that desk."

She took a swig from her glass. "I work here."

"No kidding."

"Yep. Gordon's resident lady writer as of about a month ago."

His brow quirked, considering his reply.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"So we should look forward to seeing you take your rightful place in the guest chair in the coming new year," he surmised.

Midge let out a humorless chuckle. "That was the idea the way Susie pitched it. Unfortunately, it would seem my comedy was not the set Gordon was interested in when he hired me."

Lenny hummed a monosyllabic reply into his drink.

A brief note conveying so much. Disapproval of her boss being a slime ball, understanding why he was, and how much it must suck for her to deal with day to day…

Honestly she was used to having to make men take her seriously for more than her looks. She'd been doing it her whole life.

She just hadn't realized how much worse it would feel, how much lonelier she would feel facing it after having someone see her, value her, adore her for all that she was like Lenny had…

"Speak of the devil…" Lenny murmured, noting Gordon approaching from across the room.

"Ah fuck." Midge downed the rest of her martini, bracing herself.

His brow lifted almost imperceptibly at the sudden shift in her posture.

She glanced up at him tentatively. "Know any good excuses a gal can use to get out of dancing with her boss?"

He exhaled thoughtfully, glancing over her shoulder to gauge Gordon's arrival.

"I might know one," he replied. "But you'll have to trust me."

"I always have."

He looked into her eyes then, struck by how immediate and decisive her answer had come.

He didn't have the chance to comment.

"Lenny! Good to see you again," her boss greeted warmly, an empty champagne glass in his hand.

"Gordon." Lenny nodded curtly into his whiskey.

"I see you've met our latest addition to the writers room," Gordon commented.

Lenny smirked, setting his glass aside. "Well I generally try to seek out the funniest person in the room at these shindigs for the sake of my sanity."

His arm wrapped around her, hand settling on her hip in a gesture that skirted the line between friendly and just a little bit possessive.

She was more than happy to let him, already feeling that much safer.

"Lenny's an old friend," she explained vaguely, drifting comfortably closer to further illustrate the point.

God he smelled good…

Gordon blinked. "I didn't realize you two were acquainted."

Lenny fought back what she knew to be a very bad smile. "You could say that."

"Uh-huh…" Gordon set his glass on the bar, obviously having a hard time reconciling this fact. "How exactly did you two meet?" 

"Hebrew school," Midge replied brightly, placing a hand along Lenny's back.

Lenny almost broke but covered his laughter by clearing his throat.

Just then the band picked back up, playing the strains of a familiar tune.

"'Scuse us," Lenny smirked, taking the excuse to lead her away out onto the makeshift dance floor.

"There. Consider your dance card full," he drawled.

Midge shook her head, smiling as her hand found its familiar hold at the back of his neck.

"That was your plan. 'I asked her first'?" she laughed.

"I did ask you first," he reminded her. "Back in Miami."

"Ah yes, when I had a hair out of place. You didn't ask, by the way. Just told me that we were going to after a lot of staring."

"The question was implied," he chuckled at her ribbing. "Either way, it worked."

"Yes it did."

All too well she was afraid to admit.

"How am I doing now? I haven't lost a step, have I?"

His tone was playful but she could tell what he was really asking. 

Were they okay now? Or has things at Carnegie ruined his chances with her?

"Oh I think you'll pass," she assured him. "Only way to find out is to keep dancing, though."

"That worried Gordon would try to cut in?" he chuckled, holding her a little tighter.

"Not really. I just…"

A blush crept into her cheeks as she considered the feeling of her hand in his.

"It's nice dancing with you again," she admitted.

"I concur."

He brought her arm up gently, holding it steady just as he had before.

He swayed her quietly for a while before commenting, "You know, we never did find out when they scheduled the ritual sacrifices, did we."

She let out a laugh, resting her head against his collarbone as she recovered. "No I suppose we didn't."

"Something to keep us awake at night," he mused.

As if they needed any more of that.

She looked up to study his face. 

He looked good. Healthy. A little more color to his face than when she'd seen him last. But there was a look behind his eyes she knew all too well. 

"How are you really doing, Lenny?"

He smirked, shrugging in her arms. "Oh you know…Trying to balance work and being a parent, constantly hearing my mother criticize my choices in both."

"I know the feeling…" she murmured.

"It's good though. Or it will be, I think. Eventually. Except..."

He let out a sigh, suddenly looking self conscious.

"Sometimes I still find myself missing the snow. I've grown sort of fond of it."

She smiled softly, looking out at the eddies swirling past the windows. 

"Me too."

One dance led into another.

They talked about their kids, about work, about life, and sometimes not at all if only just to enjoy not having anything funny to say, until the hours on the clock dwindled away.

She'd missed him. God had she missed him.

Judging by the way his hands never left her, she had a feeling he'd missed her too.

A few more songs and another trip to the bar had her cuddled against his shoulder along the outskirts of the party, melting into his embrace, feeling content and safe and just this side of impulsive as the clock counted down.

She looked up into his eyes, fingertips trailing lazy patterns along the nape of his neck, itching to feel the soft curls just above it.

His gaze drifted to her lips and suddenly she barely registered the din of the crowded room just beyond them. 

"Five…Four…three…two…one!"

Her lips found his like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if midnight was theirs alone to share.

She felt his hand tangle in her hair and it was all she could do not to come undone.

He broke away breathlessly, his forehead resting against hers.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"I'm not," she replied, pulling him back in hungrily.

He moaned against her lips, gripping her closer until his willpower won out and he pulled away again, just enough to speak, shaking his head. "I meant for before. How we left things. I should have called. I should have–"

“Lenny. Less apologizing. More kissing," she insisted.

He nodded, shutting up in favor of letting her nibble on his lower lip, pressing her against the wall.

A chorus of auld langs ide reminded them belatedly that they were not in fact entirely alone.

"I don't suppose you know somewhere a little more private we could go…" he ventured.

Midge bit back a smirk, slipping her hand into his as she led him out the door and out into the hall.

His lips were on hers in an instant, following blindly as they retreated, eventually finding their way into an unlocked office.

They tumbled down onto the soft leather couch, hands roaming in search of skin.

"Missed you," she whispered between kisses as she straddled his lap. "Missed this."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as his hand teased its way up her thigh. "Sweetheart, you have no idea."

She was just about to get to work on his belt buckle when the door to the office clicked open.

Mike blinked at them from the doorway, wobbling slightly on his feet.

"Midge?"

She didn't think to move. It was all she could do not to break into a fit of giggles. 

Gordon had sprung for the good champagne.

"Yeah?"

"What're you doing in George's office?" the booker asked.

Lenny cleared his throat.

"Me, I believe was the intent," he quipped, still pinned beneath her, looking rather disheveled and happy for her efforts.

Mike craned his neck slightly, squinting into the dimly lit room. "Oh, hey Lenny."

"Thanks for the invite."

"What are you doing in George's office, Mike?" Midge wondered, hoping it would be enough to distract him away from having a word with human resources when he sobered up.

"I was gonna throw up in his desk," he admitted without remorse.

Midge let out a laugh. "Okay then."

She got to her feet, righting the hem of her dress before helping Lenny to his feet.

"You want us to stick around to hold your hair back? Get you some water or anything like that?" she asked.

Mike had become somewhat of a begrudging friend since she was hired. Sort of a grumpy adopted older brother figure.

He was a good guy.

She figured it was the least she could do to offer.

The fact that it made it less likely that he'd rat her and Lenny out was beside the point.

"Nah," Mike waved her off. "You kids have fun…Just not here."

Lenny gave the other man a lazy salute, taking Midge by the hand. 

"So… Where to now?" he asked once they were out in the hall.

Midge smiled, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "That depends. Are you going to run away again if I bring you back to the upper west side?"

He shook his head, grinning as he tucked a loose strand of hair back in place behind her ear.

"Not a chance."

[darloe]

Can we not collectively forget the fact that Midge brought Susie to a lesbian bar? Let’s talk more about that.

Like, first of all, how did she even know where the bar is? Because, from what I remember, when she asks around, she doesn’t get that any results. How many people did she ask to get results?

I wonder how many strange looks Midge gets when she walks downtown, because she had to have asked multiple people. Especially since gay/lesbian bars were secret at that time, it wasn’t the coolest thing because of obvious homophobic reasons.

I think I read a fic where Lenny is drunk and when Midge helps him he says he saw her enter that bar and now it’s all I can think about. Just Lenny Bruce passing by and seeing Midge drag Susie into a lesbian bar.

[brightlilith]

Midnight in Paris with Lenny Bruce. 1

Masterlist

Pairing: Lenny Bruce x Fem!Reader

Summary: Drinks, laughter and cigarettes with Lenny Bruce.

Warning: drunk people, I think just

A/N: This series is inspired by the film Midnight in Paris. English isn't my fist language. Any mistakes I apologize for. Constructive criticism and supportive messages are always welcome, it motivates me to keep writing.

I walked through the empty streets of Paris, letting the sound of my shoes hitting the cobblestones echo through the narrow alleyways. I was determined to escape my troubles, at least for one night. The cool night wind gently caressed my face as I immersed myself in the magical atmosphere of the city.

Without a specific destination, I allowed myself to be guided by the golden lights adorning the elegant buildings. I found myself drawn to the magnificent Eiffel Tower, whose nighttime sparkle seemed to hypnotize me. I sat on a nearby bench, allowing myself to be enveloped by the tower's imposing presence and the sense of freedom in the air.

Following my instincts, I made my way to the banks of the River Seine, where the gentle murmur of the water calmed me. The scene was truly enchanting, with the reflective lights dancing on the surface of the river, creating a spectacle of reflections and shadows. I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to simply feel the serenity of that Parisian night.

Still wandering aimlessly, I found myself in Montmartre, immersed in the bohemian atmosphere and narrow cobblestone streets. I felt the artistic vibe of the place, with the illuminated cafes and figures engaged in lively conversations. There, I allowed myself a moment of contemplation, observing the street artists and absorbing the creative energy of the place.

As the night progressed, I finally realized that my troubles had dissipated, at least temporarily. I felt rejuvenated, inspired, and above all, grateful for the opportunity to lose myself in the magical streets of Paris. I understood that sometimes the best solution to problems was to allow yourself to experience the beauty and freedom that life had to offer.

Walking a little further down the cobbled street, I found myself sitting on the steps of the church of Saint-Étienne-du-Mont, at Place du Panthéon, watching the lights of the Parisian night. I was far from home, disoriented, and attempting to find meaning in my life.

A distant sound echoed in my ears, a bell, I would say. I looked at my watch and saw that the hands indicated it was midnight, I wouldn't return to my hotel so soon.

Precisely at that moment, an old Peugeot, immersed in a nostalgic aura, drove up Rue de la Montagne Sainte Geneviève, its engine humming softly.

I watched the car with a mixture of fascination and disbelief. It was as if the past was unfolding before my eyes, bringing with it all the charm of 1960s Paris. I felt a wave of excitement run through my body, inspiring me to move forward, explore new possibilities. In that moment, I realized that the answers I was seeking could be hidden in the fabric of time itself.

Inside were two men and two women, stylishly dressed in clothes reminiscent of the 1960s, with champagne and glasses, serving from an open bottle and drinking cheerfully.

"Come, get in." One of the men spoke merrily.

"Huh?" I murmured confused.

"Come on, we're running late." The woman next to the car window spoke, her French accent distinct. She opened the car door.

"You must be mistaking me for someone else."

"Not at all, come on, get in." the same woman said.

"Look, I'm a little drunk."

"Come on, for God's sake, we can't stay here all night." the woman said.

I stood up from where I was and went to the car, the other two people besides whom I was talking were humming drunkenly.

"You have a wonderful old Peugeot, I have one in New York, I usually collect..." I was interrupted by the woman pulling me into the car.

"Let's go" She laughed. "We have parties to go to."

"What parties?" I asked, I was in between the two women.

"Let's go" The other man said, starting the car.

"Here, have some champagne." The other woman handed me a glass of the drink.

The car left the street, leaving behind the majestic facade of the church and taking me somewhere I didn't know, but I didn't care. Inside the car, I contemplated the grandeur of Paris at night, with its illuminated streets and these four lively people. Laughter flowed genuinely from my mouth, maybe exploring Paris wouldn't be so bad after all.

Thank you for reading this far, it makes me very happy.🩵

If you liked it, tell me so I can continue writing this series.

Kisses💋

© morganaah/brightlilith ─ all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other platforms.

[charcubed]

Love Is The Opening Door –

A Midge/Susie fic

Pensacola – 1969 With no actual thoughts involved and no plan to do it, Midge leans forward and kisses her. Susie jerks back like she’s been shot. “What the FUCK?” she yells, scrambling off the bed.

---

New York City – 1990 For the first time in five years, Midge just spoke to her. Not about her; to her. It was more than an olive branch. It was the whole fucking tree. And Susie’s holding a piece of paper that proves she gets to talk to her again.

Rated T • 6,688 words

On AO3 here.

The parts of Midge and Susie's love story that exist in the margins, mentioned in canon but not shown on screen.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

i was tagged by the wonderful @deardiary17 to share 7 (or more) lines from my latest WIP, so that means y'all are getting some unasked for midgelenny! (ask me about this convoluted fic at your own risk <3 i can be so annoying about it for the low low price of one single tumblr ask):

"You missed your calling," she muses, squinting theatrically at the paper napkin.

"Hm?"

She flips it ninety degrees, then ninety degrees again, her pseudo-examination accompanied by a frown. "You should have been a doctor, with this handwriting."

He groans. "Don't put that in your set."

"Why, because it's not funny or because sloppy penmanship is your dirty little secret?"

"Oh, Mrs. Maisel," he says with a mocking smirk; he does so hate to be obvious with her. "I have more dirty little secrets than I know what to do with."

"So, it's just not funny. I'll workshop it," she says, and apparently she means now, because her mouth does not stop moving, even as she folds the napkin up at precise angles and slips it into her purse. "You know, I can sort of almost picture it: Dr. Leonard Bruce, writing bogus Benzedrine prescriptions."

"Still not funny. And 'Bruce' is a stage name. I'd be Dr. Schneider, which is not very sexy."

She winces. "No, it really isn't. Not sure how you'd look in a white coat either…"

"Okay," he tips his head back, draining the last of his drink. "You keep workshopping, I'm going now."

She pouts. "So soon?"

"You'll be glad to be rid of me."

"Yes," she agrees, nodding with slightly too much emphasis. She's tipsy, he realizes. She had to get tipsy to come over and talk to him? He knows the feeling. "You are a terrible bore."

"'Is Lenny Bruce boring at home?'" he quotes, flicking one final salute over his shoulder before he goes. He doesn't want to look back, but he does anyway.

Midge smiles at him, just a little. And crookedly, her perfect lips pursed.

And—my god, he really is so fucking screwed.

[welcomewithmetonight-thechaos]

Blue. A color that has been haunting her dreams ever since that night. Blue things in a very blue room. And now Lenny was alone in that very blue room, alone with that bag. What does it mean when not only the curtains but the very room is blue?

Or, the one where Bob Dylan has no reason to write "Lenny Bruce" till at least thirty years later than he did.

Hi :) I wrote a little something because I love them

[a-wolf-at-the-door]

TMMM people, does anyone know any fics where Susie & Reggie meet again post-S3? I adored their dynamic, the way he sort of took her under his wing and believed in her even though he pretended not to, the way he offered to pay her gambling debt, the way he told her someday she’d be making the same kind of decision he was… it’s just I’ve seen a lot of fics where Midge & Shy reconcile but none with Reggie & Susie and man oh man I would love to see how they’d navigate that. (also I just think we all need more Sterling K. Brown in our lives)

[important-musings]

cover art made by me

[solongllondon]

hii!! little life update:

published a new fic just now:

it's a the marvelous mrs. maisel one, the first i've ever written for that fandom and the shortest thing I've ever written in general. if you love me, give it a read plsss <33

(warning; it is sad and deals with MCD)

[theresawritesstuff]

“Oh no, there is only one bed, what will we do now?”

I've been trying to get this one right for a long time. I feel like I wrote the start of at least five different versions before this one... Thanks for being patient 😘

Denver, 1965

“That…” Lenny managed finally. “That is quite the bed.”

The pair of them had been standing at the end of the king sized, pillow laden beast of a mattress for God only knows how long. 

Just staring, bags in hand like a couple of idiots.

“Yes it is,” Midge agreed, equally dumbstruck. 

“The uh…” She cleared her throat. “The bookings were part of the tour deal. I guess they thought you were Mister Maisel.”

He nodded absently. “Happens.”

“They probably overbooked. Thought they were doing us a favor with the upgrade,” she reasoned.

“Probably…”

They'd been on tour together for about a week with Lenny as her opener. She still couldn't quite believe it but she was now the bigger name out of the two of them.

She understood the how and why. It was just a little hard to reconcile. It didn't feel like it should be real.

Not like this at least…

Then again nothing had truly felt real since that night in San Francisco.

One minute she's chain smoking in the alley, fighting for her life against a panic attack, the next her manager is marching back into that hell hole of a club only to drag Lenny out by his ear to check him into rehab.

But even after he got out and Susie managed to clean up some of his legal messes the clubs still wouldn't touch him on his own merits.

Which is where she came in.

She'd hoped it could be a way for her to repay some of the favors he'd done for her when she’d hit a career low. To show him he still had her support. That she still cared about him, deeply. 

She'd never once stopped caring about him. Never would.

She would always love him.

But they'd barely spoken. At least not anything of consequence.

He didn't seem to think they had much left to say…

“I’ll um… You should take it. I can sleep on the couch,” he offered, breaking himself away from the bed to set his suitcase by the dresser.

Before he got any ideas…

They'd had their share of falling into bed with each other over the years but with them working together now he didn't feel like he was in any position to assume.

She'd always been very clear about her feelings on mixing business with pleasure.

And they hadn't exactly been together anytime recently. Things change. She might not want him anymore. He wouldn't blame her.

Certainly not after she and Susie had basically dragged him out of the gutter.

He'd never wanted her to see him like that. To see that he was so far gone. That all was very much not well.

Living on opposite coasts had made it easier to hide. 

They'd written a few letters. Shared a couple of phone calls, but he'd never let on just how bad off he was. He could barely admit it to himself.

He didn't want her help.

She gave it to him anyway.

Thank god she was just as stubborn as he was.

“What couch?” Midge wondered.

He looked up, glancing around the room.

Mountain view. 

Bathroom.

Absurdly inviting bed…

Coffee table.

Two chairs.

No couch.

“Oh…” he blinked. “Well there were a few promising options in the lobby.”

She looked at him skeptically. “You're kidding.”

“No, they really did look quite comfortable. Nice plush upholstery.”

Midge rolled her eyes, setting her bag down. “I know Susie had to bail on this stop to take care of business in New York, but if she hears you slept in the lobby you and I both will never hear the end of it.” 

He let out a sigh, deflating. “You're probably right.”

“You know I'm right.”

He nodded tiredly, swiping a thoughtful hand over his mouth.

Her manager had put in a lot of effort trying to turn his image around.

Their manager, he corrected himself mentally.

He was still having a hard time coming to terms with that one. 

He wasn't used to representation that didn't hound him for payment at every turn.

Lenny looked around the room pensively, snapping his fingers towards the sitting area.

“Chair. Chair looks good.”

He sat down, curling his long frame up onto the seat, testing the theory.

Midge sat down on the edge of the bed across from him, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “The chiropractor Susie hired to follow you around is gonna love that.”

“I've had worse,” he replied through a grimace he tried to pass off as a smirk.

A scoff of a laugh escaped her lips as she looked out the window at the storm brewing outside.

“This feels familiar…”

“How so?” he wondered, adjusting his position.

“The snow.” She gestured to the space between them. “You keeping a respectable distance.”

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “Seemed like the safe option.”

“Is it because I talk to my shoes? I don't do that in front of just anyone you know,” she quipped.

“Lucky me. Some guys would pay good money for that.” 

The chair reclined unexpectedly with a cartoonish clank of metal and springs beneath the seat, becoming even less comfortable than before.

“Lenny…”

“Hm?” he replied, attempting nonchalance.

“You've been avoiding me,” she informed him softly. “Care to tell me why?”

“I would not call going on tour together avoiding you,” he batted back lightly.

She waited patiently for his answer.

He huffed out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I've been trying to work out why it is that I'm here,” he admitted.

“Here as in the tour or more in a grand existential sense?”

To his noncommittal wave of a hand she replied “I needed an opener, you needed a job.”

“You felt compelled to fix my mess,” he corrected.

Midge blinked, her brow furrowing. “That's not–”

“I'm not angry,” he assured her, sitting up slowly. “I was for a little while, but that was more with myself than anything else. For giving you no other choice but to either turn your back or step in and try to put Humpty Dumpty back together.”

She shook her head, perplexed. “You needed help. We help each other. That's how we've always been.”

He smirked ruefully at the assertion. “I haven't been any help to you in a long time.”

Midge blinked.

She didn't have a comeback for that one.

“It's late,” he reminded her gently, stealing a decorative pillow from the other chair for his head. “You should try to get some rest.”

Her mouth set firmly as she looked back out the window, finding herself uncharacteristically speechless 

She wanted to argue. To remind him of everything they'd been through. To tell him exactly what seeing him at his lowest had done to her. What the thought of losing him had done…

But the words just wouldn't come.

Instead she got up from the bed, grabbing her night things from her suitcase to head for the bathroom to get changed.

Once she was alone she exhaled a shaky breath, gripping the sink tiredly.

She never asked Susie what it was she'd said to Lenny that night. 

Now she was starting to wish she had…

After a moment, she straightened up to get ready for bed, removing her earrings quickly then reaching around to unclasp her necklace.

Only it wouldn't budge.

She turned to look over her shoulder in the mirror, her fingers fumbling as the metal caught in the lace overlay of her dress.

The more she tried, the more tangled it became.

She begrudgingly turned to look at the door, weighing her options.

Fuck it. 

Pride hasn't done either of them any favors lately anyway.

“...Lenny?” she called out sheepishly.

“What?” 

She swallowed.

“I need your help.”

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, his tie and jacket removed.

She gestured helplessly, giving it one more attempt on her own. “It's stuck.”

“Yes I can see that…” he chuckled. 

She shot him a look.

“Alright, hang on,” he assured her, holding up his hands in a truce.

He came up behind her slowly, standing close so that he could see what he was doing.

Midge stayed quiet, attempting to hold her hair out of his way, the gravity of his presence all too familiar a temptation.

“Need your reading glasses?” she teased, fighting to ignore the butterflies she felt as his fingers brushed incidentally along her neck.

Lenny smirked. “I'll manage, thank you. Your various clasps haven't beaten me yet.”

Like she needed the reminder…

“There,” he said in triumph after a moment, reaching around her to set the necklace on the edge of the sink.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

They stood frozen, neither one wanting to be the first to pull away.

“You, uh,” Lenny hesitated, wetting his lips. “You want help with the zipper too?”

Midge nodded, glancing over her shoulder up at him. “If you don't mind…”

He nodded in the mirror in lieu of reply.

His hand settled tentatively against her dress, one warm and steadying as the other slowly skimmed it's way down, sending a thrilling shiver along her spine.

“This was never about fixing you, you know,” she murmured quietly before he pulled away. “I don't… You're not broken. Not to me.”

“I'm a little broken, hate to break it to you,” he chuckled self-deprecatingly.

She took the hand still resting against her hip in her own, holding it fast.

“No more than I am.”

His eyes grew soft as he looked down at their entwined fingers.

“Can I ask you something?”

She nodded, turning to face him.

“Why did Susie really take me on?”

To her furrowed brow, he reasoned, “Don't get me wrong. The comedy comeback story is good, but if that had been the real reason she would have reached out way before San Francisco.”

Midge looked down at the floor between them, running her thumb softly along his.

“Because I needed her to,” she whispered.

“Why–”

“I couldn't live with the idea of a world without you in it,” she cut off, her voice hoarse with the threat of tears. “You don't love someone for half a decade and then just shrug and throw in the towel while they slowly kill themselves in front of you. And don't try to say that wasn't what was happening because you and I both know that–”

He reached out then, pulling her close as his lips collided with hers in a tender, searing kiss.

Her hands fisted in his shirt as he caressed her jaw, clinging to him, desperate to feel that it was real.

That he was still there, whole and steady, heart still beating beneath her fingertips, and not just a cherished memory.

He pulled away slowly, resting his forehead to hers. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the moisture from the corner of her eye. “Thank you for never giving up on me. You had every right to.”

“And a few very good reasons not to,” she reminded him.

He smiled softly, pulling back just enough to look at her. “So five years, hm?”

She bit back a laugh. “Give or take.”

He smirked. “I think I've got you beat.”

“Oh yeah?” she wondered. “By how much?”

He shrugged. “A bit.”

“Hm.” She nodded, biting her lip thoughtfully. “What do you propose we do about it?”

“Well, you did basically save my life by intervening in it. I suppose we can call it even,” he chuckled, arching a playful brow. “Why, did you have some other ideas?”

She took his hand in hers, pulling him gently towards the bedroom. “We can figure it out in the morning. Until then…Think you can still manage my show corset?”

He grinned, letting her lead. “One way to find out.”

She smiled as her dress slipped to the floor, taking his breath away before coming to reclaim his lips.

He wrapped her in his arms, savoring every inch of her as they stumbled to bed where she reminded him what it feels like to be truly alive.

And just how grateful they both were for it.

[llllllllllppppppp]

Have you wondered about the meaning of the piece of paper Midge wrote for her future self when she was in college? She wrote: "No." I have a theory. What if she meant not to get married right away and live life a little first? What if that's why she hesitated before accepting Joel's marriage proposal? I envision Midge in AU turning down Joel's proposal and going back to the strip club to see young Lenny perform again, this time by herself. She meets Lenny at the bar, and changes her and his future forever. Who knows, maybe Midge's first-time (drunk) performance is not about her husband leaving her but her refusing to get married right after college and causing a scandal among friends and families.

[brightlilith]

I wish Lenny had a happy ending with Midge 🥲

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Maisel character of choice discovering an old love letter

Noah Maisel sighs heavily. He's been doing that a lot lately.

2015 has been a tough year. He was denied funding on a study he's been trying to get off the ground. His girlfriend of a year called it quits on New Years Day (nine months ago. He's mostly over it), and the icing on the shit cake, the coupe de gras. The worst of the worst.

Pop-Pop passed away.

And Noah supposes that makes sense. Lenny Bruce was an old man. He had certainly lived quite a few different lives in the last ninety years, but it seems oddly unfair; oddly short for someone so excited about life.

Last week, Noah had received a text message from his grandfather that simply said "fuckin' cronuts are great. Go get one! It'll change your life!"

"Pop-Pop, after all the crap you've been through, how are you not more jaded?" he asked once a few years ago.

His grandfather had chuckled and nudged Noah's foot with his own. "You take the good with the bad, kid. Yeah, I did that one time, and the addiction problems are a pain the ass. But there are flowers that bloom, and chicken salad sandwiches, and orgasms."

"Agh. Gagh."

"What?"

Noah laughs quietly to himself and then sighs again. Offering to help his father and aunts go through his grandfather's belongings. Softa isn't up for it yet, and...well. Who could blame her?

He sorts through a stack of papers and letters, one falling to the floor. He bends down to pick it back up, and glances at the front of the envelope.

To: Upper West Side

Noah frowns and sits with it for a moment. He probably shouldn't read it. It's meant for Softa, and he should walk it up the stairs to hand it over.

But he's really fucking curious, and what if it's sad, or upsetting? He doesn't want to just hand over a mysterious letter to his grandmother only for her to read it and feel more heartbroken.

He sits down at the desk and opens the envelope (not sealed shut, thankfully), and pulls the letter out, taking a look.

Midge -

You won an Emmy yesterday, and I thought I'd drop you a note letting you know how proud of you I am.

Not that you need me to be proud. It's just the reality of the situation. I am so proud of you, I could keel over.

From the second I saw you on stage at the Vanguard that one night, I knew you would surpass us all. There is more talent in your pinky finger than most comics have in their entire body. You've astounded me from the beginning, truly.

So yes. Again. Very proud.

I know we haven't seen each other in a little while; California and New York being so far apart. But I wanted to let you know. I saw you accept that Emmy, and I cheered. I woke my mother, I cheered so loud.

In any case, I hope you're celebrating. I should be in New York again soon, so I hope to run into you while I'm bumming around.

Congratulations, Upper West Side

Love, Lenny

Noah smiles sadly and blows out a breath, tilting his head up to do some math. Softa won her first Emmy in '64, and she and Pop-Pop married in '65. He wonders if they ran into each other before Pop-Pop could send that letter. It's a really nice though.

Carefully, he slips the letter back into its envelope and gets up to deliver it to his grandmother.

[theycallme-thejackal]

One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

188. Electric Touch

For once in her life, she's not running late. In fact, there's a full hour until he's coming to pick her up, and she's almost completely ready. Her makeup is done. Her hair is perfect. She tried on five different dresses before settling on this one for their date.

Their date. She's going on a date with Lenny Bruce.

She exhales a shuddering breath and resists the urge to bite her lip; she doesn't want to ruin the lipstick she'd so painstakingly applied just right. She reaches into her jewelry box, pulling out her earrings and putting them on with slightly shaky hands.

She's tried to fall in love. And it has always fallen apart. She even thought it had fallen apart with Lenny after Carnegie. But then, just as she was leaving to try to find her way home in that blizzard, his hand had circled her wrist, somehow both tender and firm. And he just said, "Look, I'm sorry I yelled, but I care about you too much to let you fuck up your career."

She stared at him, trying to muster up indignation, anger with him, but he was giving her those sad puppy dog eyes, and she couldn't manage anything other than gratitude.

Because she knew he was right. She knows he was right.

He offered to sleep on the couch, and she'd rolled her eyes. "We're adults. We can share a bed." He looked nervous at that, but he nodded and gave her one of his shirts to sleep in.

They turned their backs to one another under the covers, and she remembers being unable to sleep for the longest time with him so close and yet so far away.

Eventually, though, she had drifted off to sleep and woken up facing the other way, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped around her.

"Huh," he murmured as he woke up as well. "This is..."

She waited for a moment for him to finish, and when he didn't, she swallowed nervously and then said, "Nice?"

He chuckled. "I was gonna say 'unexpected', but yeah...it's nice."

She gets up from her vanity and slips into her shoes before going out into the living room. The kids are with Joel, and her parents are at the theatre, so there's not even someone in the apartment to distract her at the moment.

Fortunately the phone rings, and she grabs it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Jesus, you're fuckin' nervous," Susie grumbles on the other end.

She huffs at that. "I'm not nervous," she insists petulantly.

"Hey, you saw me stumbling over my words and forgetting who the fuck I was the first time I met him," Susie tells her, surprisingly comforting in this moment.

Midge furrows her brow. "Wow. You usually hate the guys I date. I expected you to fight this a hell of a lot more."

Susie scoffs. "Look, I'm not thrilled you're gonna date a comic, but at least this one's funny. You could do a hell of a lot worse than Lenny Bruce. Hell, you have done worse. You had kids with worse."

"My kids are great," Midge retorts.

"Yeah, are you sure they're Joel's?" Susie quips.

"Yes, I'm sure!" Midge squeaks.

Susie laughs in response. "I was fuckin' kidding, Midge! Shit."

The younger woman takes another deep breath and exhales slowly. "I know," she mutters. "I just...yeah, I'm really nervous. I really...I really want this to work," she admits, her voice quiet.

Susie groans. "Miriam, the guy's been in love with you for...well, basically forever. Just get your shit together. I don't think there's anything you could do to send him screaming into the night."

"Maybe show up in a wedding dress?" Midge asks.

"He'd just take you to fuckin' Atlantic City and call your bluff," Susie responds with a chuckle.

"Ah! Shit!"

Midge furrows her brow and looks toward the door. "What time is it?" She asks Susie.

"Uh, it's seven-thirty," Susie answers. "What, you don't have clocks in that fancy apartment?"

"He's not supposed to be here until eight!" Midge squeaks.

"Fuck, doesn't he know you're never on time?" Susie grumbles.

"I've been ready for thirty minutes."

There's silence on the other end. And then, "Fuck! You're already fucking in love with him!"

"Susie, I have to go," Midge says.

"You fuckin' f--"

She puts the phone down and smooths her dress before heading toward the door and opening it slowly, finding Lenny in the hallway, rubbing his knee with one hand and holding a bouquet of flowers in the other.

She tilts her head as she watches him, not yet aware of her presence, and she feels a wave of deep affection for him. "Chair jump out at you?" She asks with a grin.

His head snaps up at her, and he chuckles sheepishly. "Yeah, I haven't had the best luck with this building."

"Maybe I should move," she offers. "Wouldn't want to keep putting you in danger."

He grins and shakes his head. "Or maybe I should just stop pacing nervously because I was forty minutes early getting here." He looks down at the flowers in his hand before moving closer to her. He holds them out. "These are for you. Or your mother if I need to get on her good side," he jokes.

She grins and takes them, inhaling their scent. "They're beautiful, Lenny," she replies, opening the door wider and inviting him in. "So...forty minutes, huh?" She asks as he steps inside.

He shrugs, giving her a sheepish smile.

She heads toward the kitchen, inviting him to follow. "I'm usually ten minutes late for everything," she tells him as she pulls out a vase and fills it with water. "Tonight I was ready an hour early."

His anxiety seems to fade a bit, and he breathes, "Yeah?"

She nods. "Yeah."

He moves toward her then, and once she puts the flowers in the water, he reaches out and brushes a tendril of hair away from her eyes. He cups her cheek in his hand and gazes down at her for a moment before closing the distance and kissing her gently.

She melts immediately, the remainder of her nerves fading, and she wraps her fingers around the lapels of his jacket.

It's a long moment before he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against hers. "Hungry?" He asks. "I made a reservation like a responsible adult."

"Will you steal my food again?" She teases.

"You did say you love that," he replies, laughing quietly.

She smiles and nods, letting him take her hand and lead her toward the door, where she grabs her purse. As they head for the elevator, she thinks that this could either break her heart or bring it back to life.

She has a pretty good feeling it'll be the latter.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

remembering how last year i got so obsessed with tmmm that it evolved into a totally different fixation where i listened to actual lenny bruce standup recordings every day and bought a bunch of hard-to-find books about him and bored my partner to death for months with random tidbits about this random dead comedian. i think that might be the most obsessed with anything i've ever gotten. i have a literal lenny bruce section of my library now