#1980s imagine

[sniperct]

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

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+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

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Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[sgt-tombstone]

the comedic potential of Simon Riley’s middle name being John is unparalleled

He doesn’t tell anyone at first, but it’s definitely why he calls Soap “Johnny” and Price by his last name or rank only, because it’s weird that two of his teammates have the same name as his middle name

When Gaz finds out, he’s livid. The 141 is 75% John; he can’t fucking get away from them. Price points out that his name is actually Jonathan, thinking he’s being helpful (he’s not) and Johnny thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world

Simon seriously considers a legal name change just to keep the peace; he’s always loved the way John Riley sounds, but the ring in his dresser will make sure he hears that particular combination for the rest of his life

[lackadaisical-refrigerator]

Dystopian button my friend saw during a job application

[lucy-in-the-skiess]

Fans mourning the death of John Lennon in New York City, December 8th, 1980.

On this day at 10:50pm (EST), John Lennon was shot 4 times in the back by a crazed “fan” and was rushed to the hospital, dead on arrival. 44 years later, his death still affects millions of people. To limit his title to “singer/song writer” or “rockstar” diminishes his impact and legacy. John Lennon was a singer/song writer, a musician and guitarist, a philosopher, a poet, an activist, a pioneer, and so many other things. Continuing to be among the top most honored musicians (competing only with his former partner and closest friend, Paul McCartney) after his death, John Lennon’s music, words, and impact are still felt across the universe everyday. John, we honor and cherish you, today and everyday forward. Peace and love ✌️☮️

[hi1234hehe]

Joe Perry:

Last one is kinda surprising 😭

[blackynsupremacy]

WHEN I THINK OF YOU

ooh, baby

anytime my world gets crazy

all i have to do to calm it

is just think of you

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

part two: a glamorous life series

read part one

summary: it’s the year 1987 and you’re an heiress of one of the most affluent african-american families in the nation. you’re still reeling from the double date with cooper, valerie, and nicholas. that night when he confronted you changed something within you. you can’t seem to get him off of your mind, so you try to occupy yourself with studying and writing new compositions to ease your wandering thoughts. that is until you’re required to attend, present, and perform at a networking gala of the elite with your parents. their immense pressure of high expectations only builds up within you and you run to a secluded garden to find some sort of peace, only for nicholas to stumble upon you in your panicked state.

contains: eighties au, songfic, luxury vibes, enemies to lovers, slow burn, mention of wet dreams, swearing, alcohol consumption, slight mutual pining, reader can be a bit toxic, character development, angst, anxiety, hurt/comfort, heart to heart between nick and reader, reader’s parents are a trip, insecurity, fluff.

taglist: @sabrinasopposite @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @stereotypicalbarbie @hnch33rios @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @camiesully @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez

a/n: likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! if you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

“ugh, damnit. that’s shit!”

you let out an aggravated groan as you’ve needed to go back to square one on this presentation. your finger repeatedly hitting the “backspace” button of your macintosh keyboard. you’ve been playing around with the new program titled “powerpoint” that had been freshly released by microsoft. your teeth sunk into your pouty, bottom lip as you were seated in the mini office you created of the luxury penthouse apartment that wasn’t far from your university. the large glass window reflected the golden hues of the sunny afternoon as the skyscrapers mingled with the clouds and a few airplanes flew overhead. a forest green fountain ink pen was being flicked back and forth between your fidgeting fingers. you frantically bounced your knees, your crossed legs clenching tighter with each of tick of the clock on the wall. there was a tingle deep within your stomach, both a mix of pain and pleasure. the pain was from the pressure of tomorrow night’s networking gala. all of the top families, including yours and valerie’s, were supposed to be in attendance. this wasn’t just any gala where you dress to the nine’s, get your photos captured, and rub elbows with the crème de la crème. this was the type of gala to get your name and/or business circulating as the future of whatever brand your parents dominated throughout the room. this included surgeons, politicians, lawyers, and corporate executives. there was going to be presentations, business proposals, and of course entertainment all demonstrated by the young, ambitious, and wealthy. you look at it more like a dog show. a bunch of hot shit loaded parents that love to compare and contrast each other’s children like they were the diamond rings or cuban imported cigars they purchased on the regular. not only did you have to present a fresh and new business proposal for l/n technological enterprises, but you also had to perform some pieces for the guests on the grand piano, all to show that you were “well-rounded”.

as the heiress of one of the few affluent african american families in your area, a lot of eyes would be on you that night, especially the scrutinizing gaze of your own father, f/n l/n, the current ceo of l/n technological enterprises. your family’s reputation held an immense value to him. you were the only child he and your mother had, so he didn’t cut corners when it came to how you were raised. he ensured you attended the top schools, learned the vocabulary of l/n enterprises, and that you took an extracurricular that gave you an air of elegance, beauty, and grace. that’s how you were introduced to the grand piano. despite the repetitive practicing of scales, chords, and arpeggios by the strictest of piano instructors, you’ve actually grown to love the instrument and performing altogether. the bottom line was that you were gonna be the face of the l/n line of business by any means necessary. you father explained that their eyes would be on you because they expected nothing, but failure from a young, black woman coming up in the corporate world. it was a fucking shame. the society as you knew it was constantly changing and there were still people who were so stuck in their ways due to the culture of over twenty years ago. you felt like that you shouldn’t have to prove your worth to those prejudiced critics, but at the same time, you want to show them that you can do what they do and do it better. regardless of race or sex.

although, you had that stinging anxiety, there was another thing bubbling in your stomach: a rush of excitement. not really towards the event itself, but towards him. the only man you could think about without recoiling in disgust. the only man that you’d ever want to give a shot in this lifetime: nicholas alexander chavez. the thoughts of him kept racing through your mind as you remember that fateful night when you two first met. let’s just say you didn’t really welcome him with open arms as he attempted to do for you. you were just so fed up from the past that you believed all of the men within your social standing were cocky, narcissistic, and materialistic bastards that insist a woman puts out on the first date, but refuses to let her finish first and still, they claim to be top of the food chain. nicholas chavez does come from a bloodline of wealthy, successful lawyers, but the more you think about it, he was an open minded down-to-earth individual that valued integrity and earned respect rather than buying it off others like a typical yuppie asshole. speaking of assholes, you were one-hundred percent in that area towards him during that evening out on the town. this man was gracious enough to give you chance after chance to redeem yourself, but you kept going with your vicious attitude and devious scheme to bring out the worst in him. you pushed that button so far that he rightfully confronted you on your brash behavior, publicly at that. after he did so, you hated him less and desired him even more once your mood turned around. after apologizing, you two had a great time for the rest of the night and you assumed that after he’d drop you off that he would keep in touch. a twinge of hurt hit your chest each day when you look at your telephone with expectancy. you were hoping that he’d search the phone book or the call the operator to reach your line but, there was no word from nicholas.

you’d given him the benefit of the doubt. perhaps he was busy with his studies, spending time with family, or hanging out with cooper or his other friends. you couldn’t blame him for not wanting to keep in touch because you were being an asshole. you were reluctant to try to seek out for him, but with the this deadline of the gala, you were swamped with even more stress. you were determined of one thing though: that the next time you’d see nicholas chavez, you were going to show him the natural good side of you that he should’ve seen the first time you’ve met. you’re not necessarily a terrible human being. you have flaws, of course, your bitterness just got the best of you that night. you were going to be cordial and collected, yet still direct and outspoken. those enchanting thoughts of nicholas haunted you throughout the week. they didn’t cease when you found yourself daydreaming, or maybe even hallucinating that he was even here in your apartment. you could be doing the most mundane tasks and hear his voice teasingly whisper your name, the ghost of his kiss lingering on your skin, or you’d envision his strikingly handsome face whenever you slept. his burly arms would snake around your waist, holding you up so close within the shield of his body as if you were to be taken from him for good. he’d never allow that to happen. when primping yourself in the mirror, your heart would instantly flutter at the thought of him telling you how beautiful looked, whether you wore makeup or not.

it went from bad to worse when after a long day of studying and shopping with valerie, you treated yourself to a candlelit bubble bath. your nude, exhausted body soaked within the white sud-filled, rose scented water. your brown eyes shut tightly and your breath hitched within your chest. you envisioned nicholas’ tall, sculpted, and nude body loom over yours from behind. his large, tanned palm would smoothly glide along the melanated skin of your bare neck, chest, and navel. the cold metal of the rings he’d possessed on some of his fingers would send goosebumps with every touch as they slid further and further until finally reaching to where you wanted—no, needed him the most. nicholas would be smart enough to tell if it’s been a long time since you’ve been intimately served properly. a smug little grin would play upon his lips when he got straight to business. before you could hear him call you a good girl for taking it all so well, your body jolted awake when you almost drowned in your bathtub due to a fucking wet dream. such a dumb way to die. fuck, fuck, fuck! nicholas’ effect on you was serious.

“i don’t know. i-it’s just when things get crazy, i can’t help, but to think about him i—ugh, it’s not fucking funny, valerie!” you frustratingly shout, chucking one of your satin pillows at your best friend. valerie was in stitches, hysterically laughing on your satin duvet after you told her about the thoughts you’ve been having about her new boyfriend’s best friend. it was now the afternoon before the gala and everything you needed to prepare and practice for was finally completed. you had a few short hours to yourself until valerie stopped by your apartment. she was there at first to inform you of the news that she and cooper koch were officially an item after they ventured out on a couple more dates. they were keeping it lowkey from the public to avoid any drama until it was the right time. as her best friend, you were happy for her! you gave her a warm embrace, signifying your congratulations. it was all happy and what-not before you switched the subject of the conversation to nicholas chavez.

“oh—but it is, haha! if him getting you together in the restaurant wasn’t funny enough, this takes the cake.” valerie squealed out. she catches and hugs the pillow against her chest and sits herself upright with her legs crossed. you huff out a breath with a perturbed look on your face before valerie continues to speak,

“i told you that you were gonna be into nicholas, but damn, girl! you’re already fantasizing about him like that?—you got it bad.”

“heh.” you scoff, shaking your head with your arms crossed, “you know what’s the most fucked up part of it, valerie?”

“dish.” she urges, her eyes not pulling away from you.

“i’ve never heard from him since the date.”

“you mean—he hasn’t called? you don’t think he’s checked the phone book?”

you shook your head.

“not even the operator?”

“nope.” you reply with a pop of your lips.

“that’s odd, y/n. i thought that after you apologized, that you two hit it off for the rest of the night.”

“that’s what i’m saying! it’s confusing as hell.”

“maybe it’s possible karma? i mean, you were a bit of a—”

“bitch, if you finish that sentence, i will throw you out quicker than flo jo.”

valerie raises her hands up in surrender with a chuckle.

“well, shit! okay—look, you just gotta be patient. you know that nicholas is a busy college student like us, right? plus, he’s just a guy, so don’t sweat it, y/n. you’ve already got enough on your plate with this gala tonight.” valerie stated, standing from her position to approach you with a comforting hand on your tense shoulder. after taking a drawn out breath, you deliberately nod and lean your head on valerie’s shoulder.

“you’re right, val. i’m just ready to get this dog show over with. you know how my father gets if i don’t meet his standard of excellence.” with a roll of your eyes, you take a step away from her. for the rest of her brief visit, you both continue to converse about the possible logistics of tonight’s event over a light snack of raspberry sorbet at the bar in your kitchen. you both bursted out in a cacophony of laughter after valerie dished out some juicy socialite gossip. there was a beat of silence and valerie took a stab at breaking the ice one final time.

“you know, y/n, a little birdie told me that the chavez family would be in attendance tonight…” she trailed off to wash out her now empty glass. you stayed silent and send her a piqued, yet irked glare.

“what the hell does the chavez family got to do with me?—that little birdie wouldn’t happen to be your precious koch boy, would it?”

“mm-mm.” she murmured with a shrug. “just make sure you look extra fine tonight, okay?”

you squint your eyes, sliding more sorbet into your mouth. her and cooper are really a match made in heaven: rich, beautiful, and meddling brats.

“you cryptic bitch. you bug me out so much, you make me want to do a line. with my luck, nicholas would avoid me like the plague.” you dryly spoke as you stood up from your seat to clean out your own glass. you and valerie share another moment of laughter and she takes her leave to get ready for the gala. when finally alone, you promptly make your way to your walk-in closet. this closet was your sanctuary that contained the finest brands of clothes, shoes, and accessories of your era. you walk a few feet in, and your eyes land on the sleek, black strapless maxi dress with a bit of a low-cut in the front. it was simple, sexy, and most of all, elegant. your mother got it specially ordered and exclusively designed for you for this night alone. despite her being an overbearing tight-ass sometimes, you’d appreciate gestures like this. plus, that woman had an eye for fashion. before performing your hygienic routine, you call up your beauty team, mack and lori, to ease the burden of hair and makeup. you don’t usually mind performing your own beauty routine regularly, but this was one of those nights when it was crucial to look and be the best. once they gave you their confirmation, you use the next few hours to pamper your body in the best of your soaps, lotions, and perfumes. from face to feet, every part of your melanin was cleaned, polished, and glowing. as if timing weren’t perfect enough, mack and lori buzzed in. you enthusiastically give them access to come up to your place and they begin to work their cosmetic magic on your natural features. during the process, you all got caught up in amicable chatter, juicy gossip, and wise-cracking.

it was nearing fifteen minutes until the event started. you were clad in the elegant black number you’ve chosen. the dress embraced every single curve and dip of your figure as it effortlessly cascaded down to the floor. your arms were adorned by a set of matching opera gloves as your neck with the eighteen-karat, silver chained, diamond tennis necklace. lori made up your face with her god-gifted hands as she went for the neutral base with a sultry smokey eye, and topping it off with a bold, ruby lip. mack had hooked your hair all the way up with a farrah fawcett type blowout, making your natural hair fluffy, wavy, light, and bouncy. with a thousand thank you’s, you paid them both handsomely for their services before you strutted into the limousine your parents sent in front of your place. when you entered the vehicle, you were somewhat relieved that they didn’t ride with you this time. the last thing you needed was your father’s perfectionistic lecture about your work/school life and your mother’s nagging about your personal life for the umpteenth time. during the quiet ride, you exchanged some friendly small talk with the driver and went over some important mental notes for this daunting task of a presentation. you were feeling that pain of anxiety within your stomach again, but it’s dissolved by the memory of nicholas’ focused eye contact when he kissed your hand the other night. that thought alone gave you a sense of relief, yet longing. what if valerie was right? if the chavez family were to be in attendance, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you bumped into nicholas. in his presence, would you be a little stammering fool? perhaps a kind, sophisticated young socialite? maybe even a raging, spoiled brat that was pissed that he didn’t even bother to call you over the past week? anywho, you’ve got bigger fish to fry when the limousine finally pulls up to the valet station of the golden-lit venue where the gala was being held. here goes something.

after the driver politely escorts you out of the vehicle, the clicking of your heels resound as your feet hit the pavement. there was no time to gaze at the shimmering golden lights of the venue. there was no time to speculate who’s who and who they’re wearing this evening. hell, there wasn’t even time to think. you needed to focus on the goal at hand: check in, find your parents, and get this shit over with. two fine dressed middle-aged women sat at the check-in table. they briefly eye your figure in awe as you approach them before they ask for your name.

“l/n. y/n l/n.” you straightforwardly uttered, your eyes darted everywhere for any glimpse of your parents. the women nod, confirming your name on the extensive guest list. you courtly nod and mutter a soft “thank you” before you hastily turned around only to clash with a tall, burly figure. you’d figured that with the combination of the impact and the height of your heels, you were surely going to fall flat on your face in front of all these people, but, oh so gracefully, both of the stranger’s arms managed to prevent the incident.

“you need to be more careful next time. i’d hate to see you get hurt.” your ears instantly perk up at the sound of his familiar voice. his arms kept you steady as you held yourself upright to make sure that you weren’t hallucinating again. the tempo of your heart rate increased when your brown eyes locked with his. nicholas’ gaze softened from concern to instant realization once he registered that it was indeed you, y/n l/n, the eccentric best friend of cooper’s new girlfriend, valerie hill. he was actually trying to locate cooper for them to be seated, but fate had other plans of having you two cross paths again. after your first encounter, you were certainly a woman he couldn’t forget about even if he tried. a pleasant grin, more like a simper curved on his pink lips causing your face to rise with the heat of embarrassment.

“long time, no see, y/n. it’s definitely a pleasure to see you again.” he greets with his large hands still grasping onto your forearms. you thanked the stars for the opera gloves or he’d be sure to feel the goosebumps rise on your skin. with a nervous chuckle, you slowly pulled out of his grip to smooth your dress out. you didn’t want to give the paparazzi, or worse, your parents the wrong idea. you promptly composed yourself.

“i guess it isn’t so bad to see you again, nicholas.” you mentioned, in a saucy manner. your stomach flipped again when you hear a chuckle escape from the male in front of you.

“some things i like about you that isn’t so bad is your consistency of your fluent sarcasm—and that you look captivating as always.” he teases all while bashfully stuffing his hands in his pockets. you thought that you were hallucinating again because there’s no way in hell that you witnessed his cheeks flutter with crimson in your presence.

“captivating, huh? if you really thought that about me, you would’ve at least tried to call, nicholas.” you argued, with crossed arms under your chest.

“y/n, i—” nicholas was promptly cut off by the sound of another male voice that held much more weight than his own calling your name. nicholas observed as your face shifted from irritated to an expression of dread as you let out a sigh of lament. nicholas could’ve sworn that you were a hell of an actress from how quickly your facial expressions changed again when you turned around to cordially greet the older man that strode in your direction. he saw him on the news, interviews, and press conferences. this man was none other than your father, f/n l/n. the muscles of your shoulders tense under his palm.

“hello, father.” you meekly utter with a nod of your head.

“come now, y/n. it’s time we find our table, your mother is waiting and there’s certainly no time for irrelevant chatter. you’ve had all day to engage in the like.” his baritone voice commanded with a monotonous, cold tone.

“yes, sir.” you complied without another word to nicholas and started to follow after your dad before his voice halted you both.

“uh, mr. l/n, sir. i hope you don’t think me rude. i’m nicholas alexander chavez, my father’s the founder of one of the top law firms in the nation. it’s nice to meet you. i, uh, happen to be a friend of your daughter’s, who i believe would excel as the future of your brand.” nicholas holds out his steady hand for which your father shakes briefly.

“likewise, mr. chavez. i look forward to connecting with you and your family in the near future, but we must get going.” your father politely urges before his grip shifts from your shoulder to your wrist to subtly haul you away from nicholas to the table reserved for your family and the close associates of the business. you sit in between your parents as dinner is about to be served. you dare not to forget the etiquette that’s been installed in you as you focus on engaging in polite, business conversation more than indulging in each course of food. great. now you were flustered, frustrated, humiliated, and hungry. while your mother was droning about the dress you were wearing, your hand reached to sip on the wine that was served. you peered down then up again to see those familiar coffee eyes that’s been haunting your fantasies all week peering back into yours as he simultaneously takes a sip from his own drink at the table adjacent to yours. nicholas was accompanied by what seemed to be his parents and about three siblings. you were still thinking about how he sort of stood up for you in front of your dad. it wasn’t as assertive as when he did it with you, but he could obviously tell that you were uncomfortable in your father’s presence. you found it to be quite noble after you were about to rip into him again.

the emcee’s finger taps the mic thrice before his voice reverberates throughout the room causing everyone to fall silent. he announces the program order that’s listed on the bulletin. fuck, you didn’t even get a glimpse of it. out of the corner of your eye, you see that you’re the very last to present and perform. it was utter bullshit, but it bought you some time to mentally compose yourself—or freak out. the first presenter was the son of a politician and his views on what the environment could look like in thirty years if certain things didn’t change. as he went into his ten-point plan, you gazed over to nicholas who appeared to be interested in what the yuppie had to say. taking this opportunity to ogle him, he was fitted in a two-piece black giorgio armani suit and tie. you’d know that suit from anywhere because you got the same one for your father on his birthday. nicholas looked very handsome and lawyer-ish. you even notice the outline of his jacked build underneath the layers. his chocolate tresses fell naturally upon his head , giving you the urge to know what it feels like when ruffled, pushed back,—or pulled on. your crossed thighs instinctively clenched and you chided yourself for having those thoughts of him again. it doesn’t help that he’s in the same room and sitting a couple feet away.

throughout the next few presentations, your focus is shifting all over the damn place. from the presenter, to nicholas, and to your own mental notes. that pit within your stomach would hurt then dissolve within seconds, it was making you a bit lightheaded and you needed some air. only three more people were presenting before you, so you leaned over to your mother and whispered that you had to be excused to the restroom. she gives you a quick once over to say “hurry up!” and you do so without question. you weren’t really going to the bathroom though, what a lot of people didn’t know was that this venue had a staircase that led to a secluded garden. this was your sacred little spot for the last two galas you’ve attended. fortunately it’s in the same direction of the restrooms, but instead of making a right, you keep journeying all the way down the golden corridors until you see the concrete staircase surrounded by the white marble railing. your hands grasp onto your dress, so you won’t fall as you descend onto each step to find the streaming stone fountain. you let out a breath that you’ve been holding and take your seat on the edge. all of the muscles within your body loosen at the sound of the bubbling waterfall, the sight of the pale moonlit sky, and the sweet scents of the array of flora and fauna fill your senses. your dark, watery eyes peer down at your own weary reflection that was then joined by the concerned reflection of none other than nicholas chavez. you could’ve sworn you were hallucinating again, but once your head turned to debunk your theory, you hastily stood up with a frightened yet angry expression etched on your face. why is he always in every corner of your life? sometimes you wish you’d never cross paths with nicholas chavez, but why were you a bit relieved at his presence?

“nicholas? what the in hell—what are you doing here? did you follow me? i swear to god if you told my father—” you accused, your voice raising a bit before he cut you off by placing one of his hands on your shoulder and a finger against your lip, so that you wouldn’t draw attention.

“shh, shh. when you keep your voice down, i’ll be happy to explain everything, so unless you want someone to find us, you’d do as i say. are we clear, y/n?” he whispered with a hint of urgency, but you could still hear that dominating tone from your last encounter. just like he put you under a spell, you deliberately nodded and he took his finger from your lip along with his hand away from your shoulder. god, how you already missed his touch. there was beat of silence before he softly spoke again,

“i happened to look over to your table to just—see if you were alright after what happened with your old man. i’ve actually looked over there a couple times, but i saw you leave, so i told my dad that i had to use the restroom and that’s when i saw you leave down the hall, down the stairs, and here we are in this garden.” nicholas concluded as his eyes took a brief perusal of the place.

“it looked like you wanted to get away.” he confirmed as you watched him saunter past you to sit beside your empty space on the fountain’s edge. he loosened his tie at the top before leaning over to rest his elbows upon his knees.

“yeah—i did.” you try your best to not let yourself crack under pressure in front of him.

“if you’re comfortable enough, would you want to sit, so you could talk it out?” his questioned with such a soft, coaxing voice. it was like you were under a spell again and his sincere, tawny gaze didn’t pull away as he watched you slowly roam towards the edge and sit in your previous position beside him. no one else besides valerie had really given you the chance to speak out about the true feelings you’ve been bottling up and so you did. nicholas attentively listened as you spoke about how frightened you were of failing the empire that your family worked so hard for. you were grateful for all the luxuries provided, but it was the pressure to be this perfect daughter that was getting to your head, you felt like you were going crazy.

“i’m not even sure that i’m cut out to be the next ceo, nicholas. let alone do this goddamn presentation because everyone is expecting me to royally fuck up. i—huh?” your word vomit ceased when a pillow soft handkerchief touched your skin. with a light hand, nicholas gingerly dabbed away the tears that fell on your face. you sniffled and whispered a soft praise of gratitude for the gesture. nicholas plants the cloth within your hands before concealing them with his own.

“hey, look at me.”

you did as you were told, it was now your turn to do the listening.

“remember what i said to your father earlier? that wasn’t just to ease the tension. i meant what i said about you back there.”

you just sat there stunned as you stared at the man before you while your brain registered his statement. the skin of your cheeks heated when you see that reassuring simper on his face.

“so now you know that it’s not everyone who’s expecting you to fail. you’ve been raised in this life, so who the hell can tell you that weren’t cut out for this? they’re only putting pressure on something they know will come out with greatness and greatness is in your blood, so— fuck ‘em!” he exclaims, a beaming smile grows on his face when you erupted in giggles.

“it’s good to hear you laugh.” nicholas stated, he peers at you with sincerity and his hand lightly brushed a piece of your hair from your face.

“did i say that you looked beautiful tonight?” he teased with that smug face.

“hey! don’t try to get fresh, chavez.” you playfully retort, thanking him anyway before your chuckles fill the air again. the wings of your heart rapidly flutter, but they’re instantly clipped during mid-flight. it made you feel so damn guilty that nicholas took time away from his family, hell from networking to go and find you moping in a garden. you had to let him know this one thing before you two depart from each other,

“nicholas, i apologize.” you confessed. your eyes were still damp as they locked with his baffled, furrowed face.

“i’m not following, y/n. what are you apologizing for?”

“i’m sorry for being such a horrible person towards you. nicholas, all you’ve ever done is be a gentleman to me. hell, you even tried to make me seem like i’m worth a damn to my father…” you trail off, to look up into the sky not letting a single teardrop fall again. you were sure that the handkerchief you received was pure egyptian cotton and you didn’t want to ruin it any further.

“heh…and all i did was give you shit about not calling me. it’s so petty.” you dryly scoff at yourself and shake your head.

right, it stung him a bit in the gut once you’ve mentioned it. he was going to make sure tonight that you got an honest explanation on why that didn’t occur,

“y/n, the reason i—”

you interrupted him by standing up hastily. you realized that so much time had passed and that it was getting close to announce your presentation. fuck! you wanted to hear what nicholas had to say.

“nicholas! i gotta go. my presentation will start soon.”

“shit! right. i’ll let you go in first and i’ll come in a little bit afterwards.” he affirmed and stood up after you.

before you take a another step up the staircase, you look down at the ivory cloth in your hand. fortunately, you brought your gucci black clutch outside with you. you reach a gloved hand inside to retrieve your trusty, green fountain pen. nicholas stood there confused as to why you hadn’t made haste towards the venue. you were quickly writing something on the cloth. once you’ve stamped it with the red marked kiss of your lipstick, you scurried to him and placed the folded handkerchief within his palms.

“you’re gonna need this more than i do, you big softie. thank you for everything.” you utter one last time before you quickly venture up the stairs with a new air of confidence for when you give your all during your presentation. you were going to show those motherfucking critics what you and your family were capable of. all thanks to the thought of him.

nicholas’ gaze lingered on your figure as you disappeared up the stairs and into the hallway. as he waited to appropriately arrive back to the gala, he peered down at the folded cloth. his fingers gingerly unravel it to reveal the graceful and precise calligraphy of your phone number. his heart raced within his chest when he caught a glimpse of your lovely stamp. his thumb glided along the ruby mark of a truce where your lips touched. oh, if he could feel your lips on his just this once, but he knew that with you, this thing between you had to simmer or you’d both would horribly burn. anywho, the first step was to definitely call you afterwards to give his congratulations, an explanation, and possibly more, whenever you’re ready.

[unknownperson246]

Can you write a nikki sixx smut based off this picture? Maybe a size kink idk but I love you and your work🩵

aww thank you and I love you 🩵🩵

Backstage Groupie

words: 640

warnings: *smut* *size kink kinda* *p in v* *he treats you like a groupie*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

You were sitting in the first row of a Motley Crue concert. You were very close to the stage where you could reach the band members. Someone grabbed at Vince's leg and he got angry. Vince threw his bottle of Jack at the man who grabbed his leg. Nikki put his bass down and made a quick announcement that security was going to kick people out if they tried to grab at them. Nikki quickly saw you. He smiled because he thought you were cute. He reaches out and you can't believe he asked you to reach your fingers out. You put your fingers out and he licks them. He winks at you and tells you to meet him backstage. After the concert, the security approached you. You were scared, forgetting that Nikki invited you backstage.

“What did I do?” You ask security as they were guiding you to the backstage area.

“Is it because Nikki licked my hand? I didn't do anything he reached over to me” You explain because you're panicked. 

The security doesn't talk and continues taking you backstage to his dressing room. You're finally backstage and you see Nikki and a couch. You're scared but excited because you're a huge fan of Motley Crue. You still couldn't believe he licked your fingers earlier. 

“Hi! Your Nikki Sixx!” 

“Yeah, I am” He smirks.

He points at his lap and the security throws you on his lap.

“Oh, my fucking-” You're startled by how the security put you on his lap.

“This isn't real” You keep muttering under your breath. Your eyes are closed like you're underwater. You're taking deep breaths. 

“This is so real,” Nikki laughs.

“You're so tiny closer up” He chuckles.

“Yeah, and you're big from close up,” You say in response, finally believing that you're in Nikki Sixx’s lap. 

He lays you down on the long couch taking his pants off. You start to blush.

“You don't even know me well Nikki. We just met.”  You say blushing.

“Well, I know you enough from our interaction today. You're quite readable babe” He smirks.

His cock springs out of his pants and he slides your skirt off. Your hand goes over his face. It had a mixture of sweat and makeup falling off. You take a wipe from the table next to you and you start to wipe his face gently. 

“Your makeup is amazing. Who does it for you?” You ask while he grabs his cock with his hand and puts it at your entrance.

“I do it myself” He smirks. 

You can feel his cock against your core. He slips it in and out. His hips keep colliding with yours. 

“Fuck Nikki” You moan while your nails are sinking deep into the couch.

“Nikki” You sob over and over again.

“Shh baby I’m almost there,” He says as he takes his last thrusts before he comes.

You feel your orgasm coming on when your pussy tightens around his cock. 

Your whole world is shaking right now. You are fascinated that the bassist of Motley Crue wants to fuck you. You knew he was treating you like a groupie and you guys weren't going to sleep together again. 

“Im going to come” You shriek.

“Good girl come for me,” He says as he goes faster and his hand goes through your hair.

You finally spill your juice on Nikki's cock. 

“That was good” He smirks at you.

He points his finger at the dressing room. 

“That is where we are going to go soon. Outside of this room” He smiles at you.

After you both fuck he holds your hand and gets you out of his dressing room that was backstage. 

“Hey babe come back anytime. I enjoyed your company” He winks at you and smiles.

You walk off and go home feeling starstruck. 

[rocketqueen1989x]

you can tell Duff is on dad mode

(GRACE IS SO FUCKIN PRETTY !)

[twobitsblade]

random “the outsiders” behind the scenes photos!!

[mmyaas-psychoword]

AXL????

[dljcem]

hi !! could you please write hcs about dating daniel larusso from karate kid ?? thank you 🫶

ೃ༄ Lola

daniel larusso dating hcs

warnings: not beta or proof read

lets you ride on the back of his bike. hes not opposed to taking you to and from places in the slightest—he’ll even encourage you to loop your arms around his waist (so you dont get hurt, of course. totally not because it makes him giddy.)

passes you notes during class. they usually consist of trivial observations and invitations to go out; he might ask for answers, if youre covering a topic hes particularly bad at.

his love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. he reassures and compliments you daily, keeps his hands on you whenever he physically can.

hes especially fond of kissing your cheek, for some unknown reason. he does it as both a greeting and farewell—its a bit of a ritual between you.

shows off his karate once he starts making notable progress. he enjoys the validation, finds that it motivates him further.

asks you to accompany him to prom. he places a lot of effort into his proposal—finds a pretty spot by the shore, buys your favourite flowers, puts together a small poster, etc.

wins you the prizes at local fairs/golf n’ stuff. you have more than a few stuffed animals from him compiled in your closet—he likes to call them your ‘children’.

hesitant to open up about the situation with johnny. he doesnt want to worry you; if you mention it, he’ll brush it off and insist its not a big deal. even when it shows, through blood and bruises and whatnot, he denies it.

[ask-yandere-sim]

Uhh....Ryo a somebody stole your husband

Ryoba: Well- It's a good thing I took those swimming lessons! I'll catch up in no time!!

(A continuation of this)

[happy74827]

Hiii! I was wondering if you could just write a very fluffy Marty McFly imagine of him and the reader being two idiots in love! THANK YOU!!!

Stupid With Love

[Marty McFly x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Who would've thought that a simple trip to the mall would change everything?

WC: 3,530

Category: Fluff

Oh my god a Marty request?!? I’m literally so in love. Thank you so much for requesting this!! Completely made my day 🥹🥹

『••✎••』

One of your favorite things about the weekend was just the pure, unfiltered, raw freedom it brought with it. You got to do things that you weren't usually allowed to do on a school day. Sleep in until noon, stay up all night long, and the best part of all, you had the weekend to spend with Marty Mcfly, your very best friend and the person you had the biggest crush on.

You could say your relationship with him was a bit complicated. The two of you had been best friends forever, but there were times when you thought there could possibly be something more between you, times when you wished there could be something more between the two of you.

He was always so sweet to you, and he seemed to like spending time with you. He'd come over to your house all the time to watch movies with you or to “study,” which was code for lying in bed listening to his new records while you played with his hair.

Sometimes, you could've sworn he was flirting with you, but then he'd do something that would make you think otherwise. One second, he'd be telling you about his day, and the next, he'd be talking to one of his female classmates, who you swore he wasn't interested in. It was confusing.

You were lying on the bench of a park, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the sounds of the birds. A peaceful Saturday afternoon, or so you thought.

Just as you closed your eyes, taking in the sweet serenity, your Walkman was snatched out of your hands, and your earphones were ripped out of your ears.

Your eyes snapped open, and you looked to your right to see none other than the boy you'd just been thinking about.

The smirk on his face told you that he was planning on giving you a hard time. Fortunately, he was nice enough to block the sun from your face, casting a shadow over you.

He looked even better today if that was possible. His hair was perfectly tousled, and his blue eyes were shining.

He was dressed comfortably, wearing a simple dark shirt and his signature denim jacket. His jeans were cuffed at the ankles, showing off his worn-out Converse.

You looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to hand you back your music player, but he didn't budge.

Instead, he rested his skateboard on the bench and hopped over the back of it, taking a seat beside you.

He placed your Walkman on his lap, holding it close to him. You were a little frustrated, but the smile on his face was making you soft.

“How’d I know you’d be listening to Kate Bush again?” he asked, his tone playful.

You narrowed your eyes at him, reaching over to snatch the device out of his grasp, but he was quicker than you, pulling it away from you and standing up. “I mean, what even is this? ‘Hello Earth’? Sounds pretty trippy.”

“Hey! Don’t talk about her like that; she is an angel and a very talented musician. Only an idiot would fail to recognize that, and I guess that makes you an idiot.”

Despite the clear annoyance in your tone, he just laughed at your attempt to insult him. It was almost like he found your irritation endearing.

His smile was infectious, and it was hard to be mad at him when he was smiling at you like that. You tried your hardest to remain annoyed, crossing your arms over your chest, but you couldn't hide the grin that was making its way onto your face.

You could tell that he noticed because his smile grew wider.

"What's wrong? Is it too hard to look at the sun?" he asked teasingly, tilting his head down slightly so that his hair fell into his face, casting a shadow over his features.

You scoffed, sitting up and resting your elbows on your knees. "I've looked at you enough for one lifetime."

"Oh, you wound me." he feigned a dramatic frown, bringing a hand up to clutch his chest.

You rolled your eyes at his antics, reaching out to grab your Walkman again, but once again, he was too fast.

"I swear to God, McFly. I'm going to kill you!" you threatened, glaring at him.

"Okay, okay, I'll give it back, but only if you let me buy you a slushie." he negotiated, holding the music player high above his head.

"A slushie?” You were a little suspicious. That was the last thing you'd expected him to say. He seemed a little too eager to give you back your Walkman, and the glimmer in his eyes told you that he had something else in mind.

He nodded enthusiastically, the excitement obvious in his voice. "Ah, you’re right. Milkshakes are much better. How about a milkshake?"

"Marty... what are you up to?"

"Nothing! I'm just being a good friend. Letting you enjoy a delicious cold treat.”

“And holding my Walkman hostage is considered a friendly gesture now, is it? I see how it is."

"Aw, come on, please?" he whined, pouting his lips and making puppy dog eyes at you.

You sighed. Damn it, how were you supposed to say no to him when he was looking at you like that? "Okay, fine."

"Great! Let's go." He grabbed your wrist and pulled you off of the bench, not letting go of your hand as he grabbed his skateboard and started walking.

You didn't say anything; you didn't pull away from him; you just followed him as he led you to the mall, rambling on about the new music that he had bought the other day. A part of it sounds like a hit to the music you were listening to earlier, but you chose to ignore it for the sake of peace.

As soon as the two of you reached the entrance, he let go of your hand. The sudden lack of warmth caused a pang of disappointment to shoot through you, but you brushed it off.

You'd held hands before. It was nothing out of the ordinary. He didn't like you like that. If he did, he wouldn't have done it so casually. He wouldn't have let go.

He pushed the glass door open for you, smiling politely. "After you."

You raised a brow at him. "Such a gentleman. What's with the chivalry, McFly?"

He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. "What? I can't treat my girl, right?"

"Oh, so I'm your girl now?" you asked, your heart thumping in your chest.

He paused for a second, looking slightly panicked.

"W-well, yeah, I mean- y-you know, as friends- you're like my best friend, so yeah..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"Right."

That was definitely a lie, but you didn't press him on it, afraid that you might make things even more awkward.

The two of you walked in silence, the only sound being the chatter around you. It was a little uncomfortable, the tension thick.

Finally, he broke the silence. "So, uh, where do you want to get the milkshakes from?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. We could go to the food court. There's a really nice burger place there, and they have milkshakes."

"Alright, sounds good."

What sounded good was the fact that the food court was on the opposite side of the mall, which meant a lot of walking. And therefore, a lot of distractions.

You weren't really interested in shopping, but Marty certainly was.

You couldn't count how many times he'd stop at a store and say, "Hey, that's a cool shirt” or "Hey, look at that poster. Isn't it amazing?"

Every time he did, he'd turn to you, waiting for your reaction. He'd look at you with such an eager expression, and his eyes would shine so bright. He looked like an excited child on Christmas morning, and it was adorable.

However, out of all the things he mentioned and pointed out, only one had caught your attention.

It was a vintage music box. It was a beautiful thing, a deep red color, with intricate designs carved into the wood. It was a work of art.

You could tell that he noticed.

"Do you like it?" he asked, leaning forward to get a closer look.

"It's gorgeous," you admitted, smiling as you examined the carvings before lifting the lid of the music box. The familiar sound of 'Edelweiss' began to play, filling the room.

Out of all the songs in the world, this was one of your favorites.

Marty seemed to share your sentiment. His lips were curved into a soft smile as he watched you.

He had an almost wistful look in his eyes, but it disappeared the second he noticed you watching him.

"What?”

"Nothing. Just, uh, just thinking."

"About?"

He smiled, and it wasn’t one of his usual smiles. It was warm, soft, and full of tenderness. You were stunned. You had never seen him look at you like that. "Just how good those milkshakes are gonna be."

You couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks.

"Right. Milkshakes," you said, shutting the music box. Your heart stung a little at the sound of the song ending, and seeing that price tag did not help. So, with a sigh of resignation, you turned around, walking away from the beautiful artifact.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"We're here for milkshakes, remember?” Your voice was flat, and the words sounded hollow. “Let’s go."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded, and without a word, he followed after you.

He was quiet for the rest of the walk, but he kept sneaking glances at you.

As soon as you reached the food court, the smell of food invaded your nostrils. Your mouth began to water, and the sound of your stomach growling broke the silence.

"You hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good, 'cause I'm buying."

"Marty—”

"Don't argue with me," he said, holding up a hand and shaking his head.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look on his face told you it was pointless, so you gave up and allowed him to lead you to the burger place.

The food was delicious.

You'd eaten there many times, but it never failed to amaze you. The taste was heavenly, and the way it melted in your mouth was indescribable. Not to mention the damn milkshakes. They were incredible.

Marty's choice of food was not as fancy as yours.

He'd chosen the most basic burger with no toppings. It wasn't surprising. You'd learned over the years that he was a man with simple tastes. Even his milkshake was as basic as can be.

Vanilla. His reasoning behind it? “True classics never go out of style. Simple and delicious, what more could you ask for?"

You couldn't really argue with him on that.

The two of you sat there, talking about nothing and everything, joking and laughing. The time seemed to fly by.

You didn't realize how much time had passed until you found yourself alone by the fountain in the center of the mall. Marty had just gone off to the bathroom, leaving you to wait for him.

You took a sip of your leftover milkshake, letting out a soft sigh of contentment. Honestly, this had been one of the best dates you'd ever been on.

The thought made you pause. Had this been a date?

It definitely hadn't felt like one, but then again, this was Marty. When has anything been normal with him?

Maybe it had been a date. Maybe it was just his weird way of asking you out.

As if on cue, he walked back over to you.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" he asked, taking a seat beside you and resting his arms on the edge of the fountain. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

That’s when you noticed it: a small piece of grey material sticking out of the pocket of his jacket. That definitely wasn’t there before.

"What's that?" you asked, pointing to it.

He looked down, noticing what you were talking about. "Oh, that? It's nothing."

"Oh, really? Cause it looks like something.”

"You must be seeing things."

"Marty,” you deadpanned, shooting him a look. He ignored you, though, instantly getting distracted by a flashy poster hanging on the wall across from you.

He was staring at the poster, his jaw hanging open. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, and you were the present under the tree.

You cleared your throat, trying to get his attention.

"Marty. What's that thing in your pocket? What did you do?"

He tore his gaze away from the poster, turning his head to look at you. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Guilt? Fear? Nerves?

Whatever it was, it wasn't a good sign.

"Jeez, you really gotta kill the mood, huh? Can't a guy be happy with trash in his pocket?"

"Trash? You stuffed… trash in your pocket?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Why?"

"Cause it’s your trash." And with that, he pulled the small piece out of his pocket, which happened to be a grey plastic bag, and held it out to you.

Within a minute, you went through all the stages of grief, denial being the first.

"What the hell?" you asked, staring at the bag incredulously.

He grinned, holding the bag open and waving it in front of your face.

You took a second to examine it. Small, but not overwhelmingly so. A pretty shade of red, with silver and gold designs etched into the sides.

Your eyes widened in realization. By the ever-growing smirk on his face, he could tell that you'd figured it out.

"You did— I can't believe you did that!"

"It's nothing, really," he said, feigning indifference.

"Nothing? How did you even afford this? I looked at the price tag earlier, and I almost passed out. This thing's expensive!"

"It wasn't that bad. I mean, yeah, it costs a fortune, but what's the point of saving up if you can't spend the money on something cool every once in a while? I wanted to buy it for you, and I did."

"Marty..." You didn't know what to say. How could you express just how grateful and touched you were? “This is… This is way better than my gift.”

"Hey, we don't have to worry about that now. The important thing is that we both got each other—” It seemed as though his mind caught up with him because the second the words left his mouth, his eyes widened in panic.

"Wait, what?" He turned his head to face you, his eyes wide. "Did you just say that you got me a gift? You stole my idea?!”

You shrugged, trying to act casual. You failed. "What? I didn't say anything."

"You said you got me a gift! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was saving it for later when it was appropriate."

"And is this not appropriate?" His tone was teasing, and a small smile was starting to form on his face.

"It wasn't. And I still can't believe that you did that. The music box was way too much. I should've gotten you something better. Something more deserving."

"Well, you didn't. So, where is it? Come on, don't keep me waiting. Let's see what you got."

"Fine." You took a deep breath and reached into your jacket pocket, pulling out a small square-shaped item wrapped in brown paper.

"Wow, classy."

"Shut up."

He took it from you, unwrapping the paper and examining the contents. His expression went from excitement to shock to… confusion.

"Uh, thanks?" He held up the gift, which happened to be a Walkman… but not just any Walkman. It was your Walkman.

"Yeah, you're welcome. I saw how jealous you were, so I thought I'd give it to you."

He snorted. "Jealous? You do realize I have one of these, right?"

"But not this one."

"So?"

"So, this one is special. What do you think I was doing at the park, sitting all alone in the middle of nowhere, listening to music?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"I was listening to this." You pulled the headphones out of your pockets and placed them over his ears. "This is a mix tape. All of your favorite songs. I spent weeks compiling them."

His expression changed again, his face softening. "How did you—"

"I have my ways. And, yes, I did throw in Kate Bush. I know you hate it, but… I like her."

"Of course you do."

You smiled softly.

"I know it's not the greatest, but—”

"Not the greatest? Are you kidding? This is amazing. I could literally kiss you right now— I mean… not literally... but, yeah, you know what I mean. This is great. Thank you."

You nodded, your heart fluttering.

"You're welcome. And thank you for the music box. I could kiss you too— not literally, I mean, well, you know what I mean."

"Right."

The two of you were silent for a few seconds, neither one of you saying anything. The air was heavy with tension, but it wasn't the bad kind. It was the good kind, the kind that made your heart race and your palms sweat.

The kind that made you want to kiss him.

He was looking at you, and the look on his face made your heart melt. It was soft, tender, full of affection and love. His eyes were shining brightly, and they were filled with wonder, admiration, and excitement.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he let out a nervous laugh.

"The more I think about it… maybe it would be better just to kiss you, y'know?"

"Oh, yeah, I agree."

He laughed, his gaze drifting to your lips. His pupils were dilated, and his breathing was shallow. Oh… Oh.

"You’re actually… wow, okay."

That made him pause, his brows furrowing.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just… nothing."

He stared at you, confused. "No, come on, what is it?"

"I thought you weren’t… well, I mean, you don't look the type."

"Type?"

"Y'know, the romantic type. You just never struck me as the sort of guy who'd do stuff like this. And don't take that the wrong way because it's a compliment. It's just… I totally thought you were kidding.”

“What? Kissing you?”

You nodded.

His face fell, and he let out a humorless laugh.

"You really think I'd joke about that?"

"I don't know. We're friends. You've never shown any interest in me. Hell, you're always making fun of me for being so romantic and shit. Ironic, since you bought me the most romantic thing ever."

"Well, yeah, but that's because… I mean, why wouldn’t I be interested in you? You're beautiful, funny, smart… I can overlook the bad taste in music."

“Well, I can overlook your obsession with Pepsi. But just a little bit. Coke is way better, and you know it."

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine, whatever. But I am interested. I just didn't know if you were interested, and I didn't want to ruin anything, y'know? But then you made me that mixtape… and you know what they say about gifting music, right? It's, uh, it's very symbolic.”

"Right.” You nodded, smiling along with his rambling.

"I mean, who makes someone a mix tape anymore? Especially if they hate half the songs on it? That's pretty serious."

God, you were so gone for this boy.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"And what exactly do you think I'm saying?"

"That you have feelings for me."

"I mean, I have very… very strong feelings for certain aspects of you. If you get my drift." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Your subtlety is astounding."

"Oh, yeah, you know how it is. But, uh, yeah. I guess I'm saying… that I like you. A lot. And not in an 'I-think-you're-really-cool-and-we-should-hang-out' kinda way. In an 'I-wanna-kiss-you-and-hold-your-hand' way."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Just, wow. That's probably the cheesiest thing you've ever said. And the sweetest."

"Hey, if it works, it works.” He smiled again, and you felt a warmth spread throughout your body. “So, what'd ya say? Want those future milkshakes to be a little more official?"

"Only if you agree to one thing."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "And, what's that?"

"Kate Bush stays on the mix tape."

"You drive a hard bargain." His breath tickled your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "But, I think I’ll be able to make the sacrifice."

"Yeah?”

"Yeah."

And with that, he closed the distance between you. His lips were soft and warm, and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

His hands cupped your face gently, and he pressed his forehead against yours. The two of you stayed like that for a while, your breaths mixing together just like the songs on the mixtape.

And, as you stood there, surrounded by the smell of food, the sound of laughter, and the feeling of Marty's hands in your hair, you couldn't help but think…

Marty McFly, you’re one hell of a romantic.

[stevxiee]

imagine him sitting in a cell, thinking of you

[would-they-listen-to-that]

Can you do a selfship playlist for egon spengler from ghostbusters?

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ here you go, caller!

Weird Science - Oingo Boingo

Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads

Sh-Boom - The Chords

Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I'm Yours) - Stevie Wonder

Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles

In the Name of Love - Thompson Twins

Puttin' on the Ritz - Taco

Mr. Sandman - The Chordettes

Thriller - Michael Jackson

Jump in the Line - Harry Belafonte

thanks for dialing in!