#michael fox x reader

[happy74827]

Can you do a Marty McFly x Reader, where the reader and him traveled back to 1955 together. Marty and the reader aren’t exactly together but they two idiots in love. But basically Lorraine doesn’t get the hint that these two are interested in each other so the reader is jealous but then some boy in 1955 flirts with the reader and Marty ends up jealous 😭. THANK YOU!!!!

Dance With Me

[Marty Mcfly x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite how rare it seems, don’t forget that jealously is often a two-way street.

WC: 1758

Category: Fluff

Oh my god… i’m so sorry this took so long. I’ve been so caught up. But, I finally finished it so hopefully you like it!! (this is probably my favorite Marty fic I’ve written so far tbh).

『••✎••』

It was stupid. You knew it was. The entire scenario was ridiculous, and you felt stupid for letting it bother you so much.

Yet, the entire day, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. Even now, as the dance played on around you, you couldn’t keep the thought of how Lorraine Baines could be so oblivious.

Sure, she was with George… now. But before Marty fixed up the past, she was all over her son as if he were the best thing since sliced bread. It wasn’t even the fact that it was her son that was bothering you, although that certainly did play a part in it, no. It was the fact that it was Marty.

It wasn’t like the two of you were together or anything, but you knew there was something. A spark, if you would, and it was a spark that made you want to pull him away from her and just tell him what was on your mind.

You weren't really sure when the infatuation had begun. It was as though a light had just flickered on one day, and suddenly, everything was different. Everything was Marty, your lazy lab partner.

Your eyes flickered to the man across the room. He was standing alone (for once) by the punch bowl, watching the dancers with a soft smile. Even now, Lorraine was still obvious to your connection. Though, it didn’t really matter since everything was fixed now. Her obsession moved on, and so should yours.

Still, your eyes drifted down to your shoes as your mind flashed back to the night before. You remembered the feeling of her fingers wrapped around his wrist and the way she pulled him closer to her, practically begging him to ask her to the dance. And he had, though only because it was the plan to begin with.

Your lips twisted down into a scowl, and you had half a mind to take her to the side and give her a piece of your mind. But why should you? What did it matter? It was over now, and there was nothing left to do but wait until the past was the past.

God, you couldn’t wait to leave.

You sighed and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over your chest.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to see Doc alive, Doc, and not worry about this crap anymore. You just wanted to be home.

You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. The music seemed to swell around you, and you could hear the shuffle of feet as people danced around. It was almost overwhelming, and you wished you had a place to escape to.

When you opened your eyes, however, a face greeted yours, and a hand reached out toward you.

You blinked, looking up at the boy who was grinning brightly down at you.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his smile bright.

It shocked you. In 1985, you were never asked to dance unless it was by a friend in an attempt to make you feel better. And while the boy standing in front of you wasn’t exactly the definition of tall, dark, and handsome, he was trying.

Your gaze shifted across the room, looking at the others. George and Lorraine were dancing, his hand low on her waist. Your parents were also dancing, as well as most of the students. And then there was Marty, standing alone, watching his parents dance.

It really was just you caring, wasn't it?

Your gaze shifted back to the boy, who was still watching you expectantly.

A sigh fell from your lips, and a small smile curled on your lips. "I would love to."

His smile brightened as he took your hand, pulling you into the middle of the dance floor. You glanced at the people around you, seeing their confused expressions and the whispers.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, but the boy was quick to spin you around.

His hands found your hips, and yours settled on his shoulders.

The music slowed, but the song wasn’t as familiar. Your feet followed the rhythm, and the boy led the way.

"So," he started, a smile curling on his lips, "you don’t seem like the rest of the girls."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "I get that a lot."

"Are you new to school?" he asked, his smile never wavering. “I’m sort of new too, just moved in the last year. I haven't seen you around."

"Oh, uh, yeah," you nodded, not wanting to explain the details of your situation. "I’m just visiting, though. Leaving tonight, actually."

"Tonight?" He looked surprised and maybe even a little disappointed.

"Yeah," you said. "But I think I'll be back soon."

"I hope you do," he smiled, and his voice sounded genuine. Now you wished that you could stay longer, but you knew that it wasn’t possible. "What was your name, by the way?"

“Can I bud in for the next dance?" a voice asked a familiar voice, a voice you would know anywhere.

Your body froze, the boy stopped, and the music halted.

Both of your gazes shifted over to see Marty standing in front of you with a small smile. One that held something more than just a friendly offer.

The boy glanced at you, his gaze questioning. Boldness was not his strong suit, and it wasn’t yours either, but you were a little less timid than he was.

"Yeah," you nodded, "of course."

Marty's grin brightened, and he quickly grabbed your hand, disregarding the “next dance” statement completely, forcing you to ditch the poor boy.

You felt a bit bad about the abrupt switch, but the feeling vanished when he pulled you against his chest, his hands on your hips, and yours around his neck.

"What was that about?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “I was kind of in the middle of something."

"Yeah," he nodded, "But remember what Doc said to us? He said that we shouldn't change anything. We don't know how this could affect our future."

"Or affect his," you pointed out, but he shook his head.

"He’ll forget about it," Marty waved it off. “Trust me, the guy's got enough on his mind right now; what's one more thing?"

“Would you?” Your words were quiet, and you didn’t really think that he would hear them. But he did, and his gaze met yours.

"Would I what?"

"Would you forget about it? It seemed as though you couldn’t handle the fact that I wasn’t dancing with you," you explained, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips.

"No, I-" he sighed, shaking his head. "Doc said that we shouldn’t change anything. I’m just following the rules."

You rolled your eyes, a scoff falling from your lips. "Since when have you ever listened to rules?"

"Hey, I listen to rules!" he defended, but his tone was playful, and the smile on his face betrayed his words. “And you're changing the subject."

"Am I?" you smirked, quirking an eyebrow. "What subject would that be, McFly?"

His hands were on your waist, pulling you closer. Your eyes widened, and you could feel your heart beating rapidly.

"How quick you were to dance with me," he grinned, his voice quiet, but you could hear the teasing undertone. “instead of the boy you were with."

"I don’t know what you're talking about," you scoffed, looking away from him, but the grin was still playing on your lips.

"No? Is my mother still on your mind, then?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"That makes me sound creepy," you said, scrunching up your nose in distaste. “Do you always have to word things so weird?"

"Do you always have to avoid the question?"

You were silent for a moment, trying to find a good response. "Yes."

His eyes brightened, a smile lighting up his face. "You are, aren’t you? You're still jealous of my mother."

"No," you groaned, shaking your head. "No, I'm not. I'm sorry, Marty, but I'm not obsessed with you like she is. Or was, or whatever. She isn't obsessed anymore, is she?"

"Not really," he shrugged, but his grip was still firm around your waist. "She sees me like a brother now, I think.”

“How’d that happen?" you asked, thinking about the dramatic change of direction, but you noticed how his smile faltered for a moment, a distant look clouding his features.

"Let’s… not talk about it," he shook his head, the smile returning to his lips. Something about that ordeal told you it was better left unsaid, so you didn't push it any further.

"Okay," you nodded, smiling. "I'm sorry, though, I guess. For being weird and all."

"No," he shook his head, pulling you in so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. Your eyes widened, and you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You were suddenly aware of his every movement and his closeness. His hands were warm against your skin, his thumb rubbing against the fabric of your dress.

"Save the apologies for when we get out of this nightmare," he didn’t elaborate on his words, but the thought of seeing Doc alive again, as if nothing had ever happened, made the smile grow on your lips.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. Your hands moved from his shoulders, and your arms wrapped around his neck. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

You could feel his breath fanning against your lips, and yours ghosted across his. Your heart was beating rapidly, and your palms began to sweat, but the feeling wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice. It was a reminder that you were there, dancing with the boy you loved.

And even though it was the 1950s, and neither of you would admit your feelings for one another, there was that awkward truth that lingered in the air. That spark, the one that pulled you together and ignited something that you were too afraid to admit.

You both were jealous of someone, a simple fact that would make the two of you laugh if only you both had the guts to admit it. But it was okay because this was the start.

You didn’t have to say anything. The music, the moment, was saying everything for you.

So you didn't say a word. Instead, you moved closer and let the jealousy fade along with the song.

[internet-sadass]

Masterlist <3

All fics contain NSFW content!

American Horror Story

Thomas Browne x female reader

Closer To God

Impure Divinity

Unholy Conception

Michael Langdon x female reader

Portrait

Mind over Matter

Sticky

There's Nothing Sweeter Than My Baby

That's My Pretty Boy

Friday the 13th

Jason Voorhees x female reader

More Than Your Bargained For (But Better Than You Thought You'd Get)

Hannibal

Hannibal Lecter x female reader

Psychomachia

My Bloody Valentine

Harry Warden x female reader

My Bloody Betrayal

The X-Files

Fox Mulder x female reader

Inappropriate Workplace Behaviour

I Can't Wait For You To Knock Me Up

Can't Keep My Mind (Or Hands) Off You

Fox Mulder x Dana Scully

Don't Panic

Saw

Mark Hoffman x female reader

Cunnilingus On Company Time

Peter Strahm x female reader

An Eye For An Eye

David x female reader

A Little Something In Pink

David (solo fic)

Saw 0.5 (XXX Version)

Resident Evil

Albert Wesker x female reader

Tentacle Sex in the Name of Science!

Leon S. Kennedy x female reader

Totally Medical and Professional Knotting

[shelfwar]

Marty Mcfly X Reader

I feel like I'm dying 18+🤧

WARNINGS: sex allusions, period talk/details softy Marty

Snuggled so far into your bed you could barely hear the annoying ring from your alarm clock, telling you to wake up for school. So you sluggishly slammed the clock and dove right back into the covers. You knew you had a cold but you felt something between your legs; your period has arrived. You let out a groan which then turned into a coughing fit as you slowly got out of bed.

"Sweetie your gonna- oh sweet Jesus you don't look good!" Your mom said as she magically appeared in front of you. "Mmm, everything and everywhere hurts." Your mother looked down at your ruined shorts before she looked back up at you.

"And mother nature had to make an appearance." You croaked before moving past her so you could grab a new pair of shorts and underwear before you could go and change them. "I'm calling the school to let them know that you won't be coming in." She said as you shut the bathroom door. "I'll make sure Marty will bring your homework, I know he would love to." "Hmm" you hummed as you striped your clothes and jumped into the nice warm shower, which calmed the tense muscles.

Once you were done with that you put on your new clothes and a pad and trudged back to your room. Once you got back you shut your door and climbed back into bed with the covers over your head. After a while of just staring at the bedding you began to doze off.

While asleep you drifted in and out of your sleeping, indicating that you had a fever. But when the end of the fever was near you felt a very cold body next to your very hot body. So you slowly fluttered your eyes open to see an arm across your middle, in which you followed to the owner of the arm and that was Marty.

You slowly turned in his arms so you could face your sleeping boyfriend as drool started to pool around his cheek. "Marty" You whisper cough getting his attention as his eyes slowly crept open. "Hi sweetheart, how are you feeling?" "Still clunky." You said as he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. "I still feels like you have a fever love."

"Figures." "Yeah, hey your mom said I could stay with you for a couple of days so you could feel better." "Awesome" you yawned as Marty held you closer. Suddenly you just realized that there was a familer slick between your legs, so you quickly jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom leaving behind a very confused Marty.

Once you arrived you sat on the toilet and started changing my pad. You heard a rattle coming from the door handle. "I'm fine Marty." "But can I come in?" You questioned that question before accepting him in the bathroom. He took one look at your bottom half and quickly exited the room.

"Sorry, I didn't know." "Marty it's okay you were bound to see." He let out a chuckle before coming back in and closed the door behind him. "I- I think I've seen my sister use those things" He said as he pointed at the new pad that laid in my underwear. "You probably have." You said as you let out a cough.  "Your life really must suck right now. I mean your on your period and your fighting a cold at the same time." "Yeah, it does Marty" You said as you sat up from the toilet as you pulled up your shorts, you then flushed the toilet and then washed your hands.

Marty stood besides you as he leaned in to kiss you, but you pushed him back. "Nooo, Marty your gonna get sick." You whined as you turned into his arms. "I don't care, your in pain and I wanna kiss every pain away." Your heart did a little flutter before he actually kissed you on the lips.

[batztrangem]

How you met Jennifer Check

Author’s Note: I’m trying to cross post more of my stuff from Wattpad so here we go

Warnings/notes: Gender neutral reader

You rested your chin on the cool surface of the science lab table. Your teacher had finished teaching, but there was still a good forty minutes left in the class. Your work had been finished early with no help from your insufferable lab partner, who had gone to sit with his friends instead of you. Now all you could do was sit and wait for the bell to ring.

You glanced around the room, studying the faces of your classmates. Your eyes landed on a pair of girls you had seen around the school before. One had a full head of curly blonde hair, and she sported a pair of glasses. The other girl had silky black hair. Normally, the dark-headed girl would have been dressed to impress. You knew that she was very popular in the school. You had seen her every now and then. She'd often had a nice outfit on with a set of earrings. Her makeup was usually done, and she would always be smiling ear from ear.

Today was different.

She was hunched over in her seat. You couldn't tell exactly what was wrong because she was sitting closer to the front of the room. You could see the side of her face from where you sat. Today she wasn't wearing makeup and she wasn't dressed in her usual outfits. She just wore a plain hoodie. The girl sitting beside her, who you assumed was her friend, got up and left the classroom to go to the bathroom.

You sat up in your chair and stretched your arms. Most of the time you wouldn't approach strangers first, but your gut was telling you to go talk to the girl.

You got up and made your way to their lab table.

"Hey," you greeted the dark-haired girl.

She looked up at you slowly. She looked very tired but gave you a small smile.

"Hey, do I know you?" she asked.

"I don't think so. I'm (Y/N) (L/N)," you said introducing yourself.

"I'm Jennifer. Can I help you with something?" she asked.

"Uhh, no. I just wanted to check on you actually. No offense, but you look a little out of it today," you said.

"Oh, yeah. I'm just...tired. I haven't been feeling good, that's all. I know, my bare face is kind of embarrassing," Jennifer said.

"Don't be embarrassed!" you said. You sat down beside her where her friend was sitting beforehand.

"You look absolutely fine. It's just...I'm used to seeing you with makeup on. That's all," you reassured her.

"You really think I look okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, you're very pretty with or without makeup," you said.

She smiled wide. It was almost as if nobody had ever complimented her without makeup.

"Thank you," she said, "Hey, are you doing anything this weekend? You can come hang out with me and my friend, Needy."

Your eyebrows scrunched together. You had never talked to Jennifer before now, so it was shocking that she had taken a liking to you so quickly. And to be completely honest, you were already starting to like her. She seemed very sweet. When you had passed her in the hallway, she had always seemed very intimating and even possibly mean.

"Wait, really? Umm...yeah, that would be cool," you said with a smile.

"Awesome! Maybe hanging out with someone new like you will make me feel a bit better," she said.

"Well, I'm glad to help," you said.

[papuhater]

(I don't fully understand how headcannons work yet 🗿)

Headcannon Request- What if Gotham Riddler just came home from a tough day and just wanted to cuddle? 👀

cuddles with ed<3

pairing: gotham!ed nygma x reader

a/n: small headcanons lets go!!!!

summary: cuddle headcanons!! !!! !!

?) cuddling with eddie, is not like regular, I just arrived, let me in the bed <3

?) it’s more complex, from the nice coffee smell, to the way his finger tips trace your back

?) today he arrived tired, it had been a horrible day at work, everything was just a big mess for him

?) so when he arrived, he went straight to hug you, but instead of it being almost instantaneously stopped and continued with a peck on the lips and rambling about his day

?) he just continued holding you close, as if he was hiding in you

?) edward just breathes into you like he’s on life support (you=life support), and then you both are in the couch, you hugging him while giving him some kisses into his hair while he jumped from consciousness into i consciousness like a rabbit

?) when he falls asleep he looks much more relaxed, his breathing went more sleepy and his hair turns into a messy nest.

?) you read a bit or scroll through your phone while he naps, sometimes you both sleep together, in that nice embrace, edward’s arms hooked like loops around your body, you were trapped there.

?) it was nice confiment, you leave you phone down to the cafe table, and start playing with his hair, it was soft, a bit greasy due to work, but it felt nice.

?) and that's how your small heaven on earth felt, it felt angelical and quiet, but instead of an awkward silence, it was just comfortable.

[gothicknightz]

experiment on me — jerome valeska

experiment on me — jerome valeska

warnings: a punch thrown so far

notes: two parts? maybe three. the reader is gn. 

word count: 559

Jerome Valeska was finally silenced to a halt after being put in handcuffs and mailed off to Arkham without a hitch. He got into fisticuffs and ran his show, as well as getting his face punched off, and saying he had quite the day was an understatement.

But to him, the walls of Arkham were getting way too familiar than he precedented, despite running the show in a place he once called home temporarily. All the other locked-up systematic outlaws and failures were getting way too stale for him to handle.

Jerome was on his hands and knees begging for some stimulation and uprising. He couldn’t stand it anymore. When Jerome gets his hands on his friends, and he would, he was gonna blow the building like no other person had dared.

Then came in (y/n), someone who didn’t need saving even at the hands of a disappointing city with too many flaws. A city that Jerome and (y/n) were proud to call their home.

Oh, the thrill of someone new. Jerome was excited. Someone with flair, style, and panache. Finally, he was getting lucky in his unfortunate incarceration at Arkham.

But (y/n) didn’t plan on staying there long.

“Hey,” They snapped, “Ginger raccoon.” (y/n) was getting tired of countless attempts at getting Jerome’s attention, so in turn, they backed up and threw a punch. Hopefully, that would wake the smiling psycho up from whatever fantasy land he was in at the moment.

You could tell he was awakening something inside him as his facial expression was recognizing that he had gotten punched. “Oh,” He grumbled, backing up, and touching his cheek gingerly as if it were severely injured. “Thanks for the wake-up call.”

“About damn time.” (y/n) muttered as they now finally had a grasp on the ginger’s attention.

“Now, look,” They whispered, leaning in, “I can tell you’re not new here, and definitely have thrown your hat in the ring way too many times.” They then glanced at one of the many guards that loomed around the halls to keep the inmates in order, “You see that unaffected sad sack over there?”

Jerome seemed intrigued, arching a brow and leaning forward, “I need you to get his attention.”

“Why not get all of them?” Jerome asked, throwing out his arms in question, “Wouldn’t that be easier?” He pushed himself away from the table, going forward to stand on it and cupping his hands around his face to holler.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention!”

And as if they were zombies, anyone who wasn’t at least partially brain-dead turned their focus flat straight at Jerome, incoherent mumbles and questions being heard throughout the crowd.

“Today will be the day!”

The mumbles and those who were talking to themselves suddenly started to cheer as if they were some high school mob at a pep rally or sporting event, some of them even standing up to copy Jerome, who they adored with an unknowing passion.

“Today will be the day!”

The crowd cheered once again, but this time with a further sense of determination and insanity, with half of them unsure of what the day was or what exactly they were cheering for; most of them were too unhinged to comprehend their own sense of being.

Then that’s when the lights went out.

And everything turned to chaos.

[cloveroctobers]

PART iii.

Here you’ll find all works written during the final month of the year for 2023 🌲🗻🧣🛷

𝑀𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉…𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝒾𝒸𝑒?

ISAIAH HOWARD > Love More = Goosebumps (2023)

EVAN “BUCK” BUCKLEY > New Years Yet? = 911 on abc

MICHAEL “MIKEY” BERZATTO > Purple snowflakes = The Bear

NERON “CREEPER” VARGAS > Greatest Gift = Mayans MC

SETH CLEARWATER > Best Damn thing = Twilight (2008)

5 Days of X-MAS started: Dec. 11th 2023 — Dec. 31st 2023

FEBRUARY FLUFF! 2024 ♡

1. EVERGREEN > Carmy Berzatto = The Bear

2. SOLDIER OF LOVE > Manny x Happy Lowman = Mayans MC + SOA

3. I LOVE YOU > Juice Ortiz = Sons of Anarchy

4. LOVE IS BLIND > Matt Casey, Brian “Otis” Zvonecek, Kelly Severide, & Joe Cruz = Chicago Fire

[supercap2319]

Glen: “So... who’s this?”

Y/N: *Holding a baby in his hands* “This is Jacob Daniel Johnson.”

Glen: *Frowns* “Johnson? Like Alice?”

Y/N: “Alice and Dan’s baby. I promised, Alice if I couldn’t save her from Freddy. I would protect her son. So... met your new daddy, Jacob.”

Glen: “Two dads and a kid?”

[unhonest-iago]

Only in the Photographs

… If I could begin to be

Half of what you think of me

I ran my fingers along the edge of a dresser, collecting dust, brushing it off on my pants. I was in an abandoned area, having discovered it, wandering after waking up from a nightmare. Picking up a picture frame from its face-down position, I wiped the cobwebs away with my fingerless gloves. White and pink. One dressed in sailor’s garb and the other in an apron. They looked happy, a picnic between them, set near the sea. Niki and Puffy, his brain registered.

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

Placing it back, upright this time, I continued my search, passing by discarded polaroids.

One such polaroid showed 3 men. 3 sets of matching rings between them. The smallest wearing a bright color blocked hoodie. Karl was the only one protected from the rain seen pelting them. They were all laughing, running towards shelter. Sapnap holding Quackity’s blue jacket above his head, the duckling in the back with his head tilted towards the sky, holding his beanie so it stayed on. I assumed George took the picture. Way before Kinoko Kingdom or Las Nevadas was ever built. When it was still El Rapids, and Karl's memory wasn't as deteriorated.

… When I see the way you act

Wondering when I'm coming back

Now in the halls, I saw more pictures hanging from the walls. I stopped to correct a titled one. It was one of those frames that held 3 photos. The first being a zombie pigman sitting in the lap of a half-enderman. I assumed from the pajamas Michael wore that Ranboo was reading to him so he’d fall asleep. Ranboo in the second photo, sitting across from Tubbo who’s hair obscured his eyes like always, no matter how many times Philza offered him a haircut. They were both eating pasta, Ranboo having told Tubbo he had something on his face. Almost out of frame, you could them holding hands. The last being of Tubbo pushing Tommy on a swing, just toddlers at the time. It all reminded me of my own son and how I’d possibly get to see all of those milestones; having a first best friend, a first date & eventually having a family of his own.

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you

I found it odd how every relationship shown in those photos, they were happy and now those bonds are gone. Some drifted apart with time, not seeing each other since & others destroyed beyond repair. Slowly closing the door, I made my way back home. My son was bound to wake up and I’d make sure I was there when he did.

[happy74827]

Parallel Hearts

[Marty Mcfly x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Just as he was about to leave for good, Marty finds himself at a standstill because of you.

WC: 1,595

Category: Fluff

I always wanted to write about the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance and now I have. Enjoy!

『••✎••』

“Marty, that was very interesting music.”

The words were uttered in a tone that was as dry as a desert, but Marty didn’t care to take heed of it, for he had a mission – and that was to get home as fast as he could.

He knew Doc was waiting for him at the clock tower, with the DeLorean fully hooked up and ready to go. His face was probably set and grim, too. In fact, Marty was certain Doc would be more than a little concerned, since Marty had been away much longer than he had told him.

But he had to make sure he was going to be able to return back to 1985, so what did it matter if he spent an extra ten minutes just to make sure he was still going to exist?

Besides, the old-fashioned audience actually appreciated his guitar skills (for the most part), and it felt good to be noticed, even if it wasn't the type of audience he was used to. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

And so… Marty was going to leave this outdated time period behind with a smile and return back to 1985, the town Hill Valley that he had grown up in, where he had his best friend who knew him, his frenemy, his parents, and the life that he loved.

He was going to return to the Hill Valley he called home, but then he saw you.

He had only met you a couple of times before, but he recognized you instantly. It was hard to forget the young woman that was so dedicated and so determined to help him out in his mission, despite being completely clueless about it. You had helped him a great deal with setting up George and Lorraine, and the way you had helped him was something he could never repay.

He couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of regret when he thought of his rushed adventure in the past, because he had never gotten the chance to get to know you. He was just aware of your name and that you were a good friend of Lorraine.

“Leaving so soon?” you asked, the smile on your lips soft and gentle. Your eyes sparkled in a way that was very familiar, and he remembered how Lorraine had looked at him when he first approached her.

It wasn't exactly the same look, but there was a spark of something in your eyes that made Marty stop in his tracks.

Maybe it was a mistake to linger, because he knew that his life was quite literally on the line. And yet, here he was, doing just that.

“Uh, yes?” he replied, feeling like an absolute fool for being so tongue-tied. He could barely manage to get a word out, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was usually cool under pressure, but right now, he was anything but cool.

Your expression softened, and you looked at him with such sympathy that it made his heart ache. He could feel a blush slowly creeping up his cheeks.

It didn’t make any sense, he didn't even know you! And yet, it was as though there was a connection. It wasn’t something physical, or something tangible, but something deeper and more meaningful.

Marty couldn’t understand his strange thoughts, or the way his heart was racing so fast. The sensation was unfamiliar, and it was almost as though he was experiencing his own life from an outsider's perspective.

It was strange, and not something that was easy to describe. But one thing was certain...

He really did want to get to know you.

You tilted your head slightly, a look of amusement crossing your features. He realized then that he had been silent for a long time.

"Are you alright?" you asked, reaching out and placing your hand on his arm. "You look a little lost."

“What? No! I mean, yes. Yeah, I'm… peachy." he replied quickly, trying his best to regain some semblance of composure. "I, uh, just wanted to thank you again for helping me out with the whole Lorraine and… uh, George situation. It worked, and they're together... in love. Soon, they'll get married and have three kids, and hopefully this time be a happy family.”

He could see your confusion at his words, but you hid it well as a smile spread across your face. "That’s… very specific, but I’m glad it worked out. Lorraine really needed someone who would cherish her. She's a very sweet girl."

There was a long silence, and Marty felt his heart thumping wildly against his chest. It was so loud that he was certain you could hear it.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. It wasn’t working.

One thought told him that he needed to go. The other urged him to stay.

A strange mixture of fear and anticipation made his heart pound even faster. He glanced around the room, searching for an escape route.

It would be easier to walk away now and forget about you. He knew he couldn’t afford to dally, not when Doc was waiting for him at the clock tower. He would probably have a heart attack if he was kept waiting any longer.

Marty turned to look at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. "I should, uh… really be going," he said, his voice faltering. "It's been really nice to see you again."

Before he could take another step, though, you reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Marty turned to look at you, and was surprised by the intensity in your eyes.

"Can you spare one dance?" you asked, giving him a small smile. "Just one. It'll be quick, I promise."

He had a feeling it would be a bad idea. He was on a deadline, and time was running out. He was also supposed to be avoiding any form of contact with people from the past. It could change history, and he couldn't risk making another mistake.

But wouldn’t it be a mistake if he walked away from you?

What if the reason he felt this strange connection was because he was meant to get to know you? What if it was a sign that he was destined to meet you, and that he shouldn't walk away?

Marty took a deep breath, and decided that, for once, he was going to go against his better judgement and follow his heart.

Doc would probably hate him for it, but Marty didn’t care. What he did care about was the way your smile brightened when he caved and allowed you to drag him back.

He was slightly irritated with the fact that the band was still playing without that guitar, as it meant they completely bullshitted him on the whole 'can’t play without Marvin' thing, but when he took your hand in his, he forgot what he was mad about, and found himself getting swept away by the moment.

It wasn't a complicated dance. In fact, it was incredibly simple, but it was nice. Dancing with you was nice. It was like dancing in a dream. He felt like he was floating on air as he was lulled by the soft melody of the song.

It was a magical moment, and he wished it could last forever. However, reality came crashing down upon him, and he was suddenly reminded that his time was short.

He had to get home.

"I... I really have to go," Marty muttered, his gaze flickering down to your lips. You were close, so close that he could feel your warm breath tickling his cheek.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss you, but he knew that would be a mistake. If he kissed you, it would only complicate things.

As much as he wanted to stay, he had to go.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I wish I could stay, but I… I can't.”

"That's okay," you replied, giving him a sad smile. "I understand."

You pulled away, and Marty instantly missed the warmth of your body pressed against his. Man, this was hard. He had never felt such a strong attraction to anyone before, and it was a struggle to resist.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"Marty," you began, and his name sounded so sweet coming from your lips. "Thank you. For everything."

Before he could ask what you meant, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was light and quick, but it was enough to send his heart racing.

"Goodbye, Marty," you whispered, a hint of sadness in your voice.

And then you were gone, disappearing into the crowd, leaving him standing there with his jaw hanging open and his heart racing.

He didn't know what to say or how to react.

All he knew was that he would never forget the look in your eyes as you turned and walked away. It caused his hands to shake a little, and he couldn’t help but run one through his hair.

Damn. He couldn’t stop the memory of the way your lips felt against his cheek from lingering in his mind. It was a moment he would never forget.

He didn’t know if he would ever see you again, but he knew that he would never forget the girl with the sparkling eyes.

And, perhaps, if he was lucky, he would see you again.

[nenee-blog]

Teen Wolf Garou

😁 Garou is a teen wolf.

Nagi got that t-shirt on a flea market. She couldn't resist. He wears it with proud. It's a present from his babe.

Today Nagi is on a shoot. She has got a role in a new brand TV serie. And Garou goes wherever she goes. So, even he 's not accredited to access to the tv studio, he always gets the way in. He's a devoted boyfriend. Meanwhile, Bang is losing his patience with Garou. The boy shouldn't waste so much time with his girlfriend, the final boss is coming! He should get back with his training. Garou's answer is always the same: he will run things his way.

This is a little glimpse from my Garou's doujin. I have several chapters writen but I'm very very slow drawing them...oh, that's painful!!! *__* so I post these lil moments because I need to feed my mind with some Garou's stuff.

About the T-shirt Garou's t-shirt is directly inspired by 1985 movie poster "Teen Wolf" starring by the amazing Michael J.Fox

Watch the movie. You'll be back to 80s XD

Català: aargh, de debó que em puteja molt no saber-me explicar en anglès tan bé com voldria...Bé, si algú enten el català, benvingut/da XD

nenée

[simpingsavant]

Late Night

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Summary: You are the person always working when Spencer stops by to get his fix of Mountain Dew Kickstart.

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, slow-burn. A gross man flirts w you for plot purposes. Promise it's very non-major but just in case.

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: First time posting for smosh, but not the first time posting fanfic. I made a whole side blog for this lol I'm thinking I want to post more so feel free to send me smosh requests and give lots of love so I stay motivated to write more hehe <3

Working the graveyard shift at a 24-hour convenience store is generally not a good idea. Except this one is in a nice area of LA, you’re almost always working with someone, and it’s slow enough that you can get your grad school work done.

Four months ago, when you were first looking at the help wanted sign in the window, you decided you would give it a week to see if it was actually worth it. Now, you were contently typing away on your computer as a group of middle-aged people grabbed alcohol and snacks. They were fancily dressed but the expressions on their faces were reminiscent of college students who were partying through the night like they owned it. When they came up with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and enough snacks to last them weeks, you happily scanned the items.

The silver fox dressed in a deep, blue suit dropped a twenty in the tip jar.

“Thank you,” You said, handing him a receipt as his cohorts grabbed the food.

The bell jingled as they left. Your coworker was in the back taking inventory. You looked down at your laptop, rereading the last couple of sentences as you found your place in the research essay you’d been taking notes from.

You loved your job. You worked from 11 pm to 8 am and although it took you time to adjust to a new sleep schedule, it was worth it. You were paid slightly more since you were working such an atrocious shift and you never interacted with your boss. Occasionally, he would message you that he was coming in early to talk, but he often just texted about what he wanted you to get done.

Until 1 am, you were working with Michael, a young man who was in his senior year of college. At 4 am, Marie would come in, an older Latina woman who had been working this shift for over ten years now. She’d relieve you for your break and you’d come back just in time for the morning rush.

You liked the morning rush. Although you couldn’t get much homework done at the time, it was when you had your most regulars. You would see moms buying their children lunch before school, office workers buying cheap coffee, and students buying energy drinks.

Marie would man the register, and you would come to help if needed. During rests, you would be restocking shelves or cleaning.

From 1 am to 4 am, you would usually see only a few faces. You would see students who stay up extremely late or workers having to go in much too early. Since it was a nice neighborhood, they were all pleasant people and you never worried about your own safety or well-being. 

Only one regular came in consistently during these hours. He looked to be about your age with chocolate hair that curled at the nape of his neck. He came in just after 1 am and always sported dark eye circles. He purchased anywhere from 4 to 8 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and occasionally a bag of chips. 

Sometimes, you’d see him in the morning again before you were off. He’d buy a cheap coffee and some fruit.

For the first month, you were too concerned with doing your job well to start any conversations besides pleasantries. He was, however, the first customer you recognized as a regular. You couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would need so many energy drinks. In particular, why in God's name did he love Mountain Dew Kickstart?

Maybe you were so intrigued because he caught your eye from day one. He was dressed in combat boots and a worn jacket. You soon learned those two items were part of his daily attire. You liked the way his hair looked or the way his downturned eyes crinkled as he smiled.

In your second month of working there, you spent way too much time trying to think of a way to start a conversation.

So far, you only got:

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How’s your night going?”

“Good, and you?”

“Fine. Do you want a bag?”

“No, I have my backpack.”

“Okay. Your total is $12.53, go ahead and swipe, insert, or tap your card. Would you like your receipt?”

Sometimes he said yes, sometimes he said no. A few times, your hands would brush. He was always so warm, your cold hands lingering as he bashfully smiled and looked away.

“Have a good one.”

“You too.”

His hair was getting longer and you thought it suited him well. You wanted nothing more than a reason to hold a genuine conversation with him.

During your third month, that reason finally came.

He walked in, luscious locks replaced with a buzz cut and you couldn’t help but go “Oh wow.”

“Is it that bad?” He joked, rubbing the top of his head.

“No, no,” You immediately said, hands moving rapidly. “It just surprised me.” A beat of silence followed before you added, “You pull it off.” He really did, but you also took that as a sign you liked him a little too much. You felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Thanks, it was for work,” He adds, voice monotone despite the little grin he sported at your compliment. He walks farther into the store, toward the opposite wall with the display of drinks.

“For work? Are you joining the army?” You question, stumbling over your words slightly as you realize that it’s finally happening—you are finally holding a conversation with him.

“No,” He laughs. “I work for this online entertainment company.” He fills his arms with five cans. “It was for a special.”

“Oh,” You reply, rolling on the balls of your feet as you try to think of ways to keep the conversation going. “Are you an actor?”

“More behind the scenes,” He replies, coming up to the counter and placing his drinks down. He grabs a bag of chips from the front display.

“That’s cool,” You say, picking up the first can as you begin scanning.

He shrugs, “I’m sure half the city does stuff online.”

“I doubt that,” You scoff. “Maybe half does entertainment, but definitely not exclusively online content.” Feeling a little bad for shutting him down, you look up at him for a moment, expecting to see disappointment or annoyance.

Instead, he’s smiling. It’s not a large smile, but it quells your anxiety.

“You’re probably right,” He answers, fishing out his card.

“I usually am,” You joke, giving him a quick look before clicking away on your screen. “Your total is $10.54.”

He lets out a short laugh that makes your insides flip with satisfaction. “I’m Spencer by the way,” He offers, putting away his card after the reader beeps.

“Y/N,” You say, tapping your name tag. “Do you want your receipt, Spencer?”

“Sure, Y/N,” He answers, putting his drinks into his backpack.

You rip it from the printer and hold it out. The way he said your name makes you shiver. He takes the receipt and bids you farewell.

You see him in the morning and you’re eighty percent sure he times it to check out with you instead of Marie. Today he opted for an iced coffee with lots of cream and a plastic container of chopped mango.

“Good morning, Spencer. How’d you sleep?”

“Good, but not long enough. What about you?”

You see a flash of realization on his face as soon as he says it, but you’re speaking before he can correct himself.

“Haven’t slept yet, but I get off in ten minutes and will be able to sleep till five today so that’s nice.”

“What’s at five?”

“Class. They’re in the evening since so many grad students work day jobs.” You tap away on the screen. “Would you like your receipt?”

“Nah, just toss it.” He picks up the drink and fruit. “See ya later, Y/N.”

“See you,” You reply, crumpling the receipt and throwing it in the small trash bin under your register before waving to the next customer.

~~

Since then, Spencer has come in every night without fail and sparked a conversation with you. You learn that the company he works for is called Smosh and you think the name is vaguely familiar. He asks you what you’re studying and why you’re always on your laptop.

The next month and a half goes by quickly. You come to expect him, anticipating his nightly visits. He has recently started staying longer, leaning over the counter and smiling at you as he talks about something that happened the other day. If another person comes in, he usually takes that as his sign to leave, wishing you well and exiting before the new customer is ready to check out.

You’re unfortunately not getting as much homework done because of this, but you don’t mind one bit. You either work during your break or just take some time before class to do more. You wonder if he’s not getting as much sleep because of this, worried you’re burdening him. Despite this, you know that you’ll selfishly never be able to turn him away. Even if it is for his own benefit.

Once, he came in before Michael had left. Your conversation was curt and he left right after you gave him the receipt. Michael stared you down the whole time and Spencer was clearly thrown off by another person being there.

“Who was that?” Your coworker asked, moving toward you from his spot behind the hot food.

“Just a regular,” You answer, trying to keep your cool. You pull out a cloth and begin wiping down the counter, wanting to occupy your hands. “He usually comes later.”

“Ah,” Michael says, nodding slowly and giving you a look. “That’s it?”

“Yeah?”

“Interesting.”

The comment piques your interest and you can’t help but ask, “How so?”

Michael smirks at you, “Why do you care?”

“Bro, shut up,” You hiss, pushing him out of your face and walking over to your stash of food. Your face felt hot as you walked past, and you attempted to hide it in the collar of your shirt. It was never fun to be caught with a crush, but you wanted to know Michael’s thoughts. So far, you and Spencer always talked in privacy, with no onlookers to comment on if your feelings seemed mutual.

“Fine, fine,” He relents, holding his hands up. “It’s just that I saw him through the window before he came in and he was smiling way too big for someone coming in the pick up energy drinks.”

“You’d be surprised. He gets those every night,” You defensively argue, “He probably has a shrine at home.”

“Oh, come on,” Michael says, rolling his eyes as you pop a chip into your mouth. “That smile dropped as soon as he saw me. I bet he wishes it was just you.”

“Don’t say that stuff.”

“Why not? Don’t you like him? You definitely lit up when you saw him.”

You gawk at your coworker, absolutely astonished at how easy it was for him to notice. This was the first time anyone witnessed the two of you interact and now you were questioning every interaction. Did he like you? Or did he just like that you gave him a confidence boost because your infatuation was so obvious?

“W-what’s your major again? Investigation?” You accuse, stuttering out of pure frustration.

“Yes, actually—”

You roll your eyes, but the sound of the door brings your back to attention. You steel your expression but are grateful the conversation ended. It was a wake-up call for you and you spent the rest of your shift trying to understand your feelings more.

Could it still be called a crush? You felt like you knew so much and yet so little about him. When did you cross the line from strangers to acquaintances? How do you go from acquaintances to friends? Did you even want to be friends?

After that, Spencer always came in after Michael left, his disposition more friendly when it was just the two of you. You didn’t know if that was a good sign or a bad sign, but it was hard to think about when only a counter separated the two of you and he was radiating warmth and cracking jokes.

~~

“Okay,” You hear Michael say and all of a sudden you are back to reality, no farther in your reading than you were 10 minutes ago.

The door to the back shuts and you look at your coworker with wide eyes.

“I finally finished with inventory.”

He looks down at his phone, prompting you to look at the time showing on your laptop.

12:56

“Sweet,” He says, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “Need anything from me before I go?” 

“No,” You answer. “Enjoy your night.”

“Thanks, I’m gonna go grab my stuff before I clock out.”

“For sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Later,” Michael says.

He opens the door to the back and you turn to your computer. The break room was through those doors as was the back entrance which almost all employees used when coming and going.

You focused on your computer, reading the most important parts of the study and taking down notes. In the back of your mind, you knew Spencer would be arriving soon. It makes you nervous, butterflies erupting in your stomach as you await his arrival.

You have been thinking lately about how to advance your relationship. Maybe get more personal with the information or invite him to hang out outside of your job. The idea makes you queasy because you worry about ruining everything by trying to get more.

You finished the reading and moved on to another class assignment. Spencer came in soon after, his lips quirked up and no jacket on. The weather was getting warmer and it was rather dry. You could absolutely walk around with only a T-shirt and jeans on despite the time.

This, however, drew your eyes to his arms immediately. They weren’t as hairy as you were expecting, his beard and how quickly his hair grew back making you think they would be. He wasn’t very muscley in any way, but your eyes shamelessly lingered on his biceps longer than you wanted.

His skin was littered with freckles and tattoos, black ink that started at his forearm and rose past his t-shirt. You could spend hours looking at them, a couple of them immediately garnering your interest.

“Hey,” You greeted, your eyes snapping up to his face. You were pretty sure he caught you, but he thankfully said nothing. Maybe he was used to his tattoos being looked at, an easy cover considering you weren’t just looking at his tattoos.

“Hey, how’s your night?” He makes his way across the store with ease, eyes staying on you.

“Fine, it’s extra slow tonight.”

“That’s nice,” He’s speaking loud enough that you can hear him from far away. “Are you getting a lot of homework done?”

“Yeah,” You replied. “Finals are coming up and I’m working on all the trivial homework now so I can study and work on the final essays in the library.”

“Is this your final year?”

“Sort of. I’ll be getting my masters after this, but I’m on an automated track for my PhD.”

There’s silence as he grabs a final can and walks up to the front. It’s almost awkward, but you aren’t sure why. It seems like he wants to ask you something, but is struggling to say it.

You start scanning his items, letting him think instead of trying to fill the space with meaningless talk.

“Are you still working here over the summer?”

“I am,” You light up, realizing why he was nervous. It sent a spark through your body to think about him missing you.

God, you wanted him so bad.

“I’m also doing some research work for a professor though,” You add. “I’m honestly too busy to have a job and it will only get worse in the upcoming year, but I need the money and this is the best option for pay and the ability to do homework.”

“Damn,” Spencer sighs. “I’m sorry about that.”

His voice is soft and sincere. It throws you off for a moment, not used to this kind of sympathy. Your social circle consists of Michael, Marie, and other students who were also going through their own shit.

“Oh, it's nothing,” You shyly reply, eyes falling to the counter and lips forming a tight line as your mind races.

“No, seriously,” Spencer insists. “It must be so difficult and yet you never seem like you’re struggling.”

With a large breath, you finally accept his compliment. “Thank you, that’s very nice of you.” You look up to see that his gaze is already on you and you hold eye contact for an absurd amount of time. You’re sure any onlookers would consider the scene intense.

The pressure of the moment builds, compressing your lungs.

“Um, anyways, your total is $9.54,” You say, breaking the silence and eye contact.

“Oh, right.”

Spencer shoves his hand into his pocket to grab his wallet and you once again admire his arms as he’s busy.

“How was work today?” You ask, wanting to dissipate the intensity of the moment.

“Long.” He answers. “This week is a filming week so I’ve been busy as hell working behind the camera and being in a few videos too. Tomorrow is Friday though and I don’t have to be in till 11 am.”

You hum in acknowledgment, “That sucks.” 

Long ago, when curiosity finally got to you, you looked up Smosh. You realized quickly that the name was familiar because it was quite popular back in OG YouTube. You spent an hour exploring their channels before growing bored and looking up videos with Spencer specifically. It was weird and you could only watch in short increments of time before needing a break. You felt like you were violating his privacy, but struggled to stop when you realized just how funny he was, his humor translating perfectly on camera. He held your attention in so many videos, quick quips making you burst out laughing.

You also note the differences in how he talks to you and how he talks to the camera. Although quiet, he cracks jokes almost every time he speaks. His coworkers seem like friends and you’re sure that helps to comfort any nerves he would have on screen. However, they were obviously trained on-camera talent whereas he simply fell into it because of how much the audience liked him. Around you, he made jokes, but he also seemed to shed the demeanor he developed for videos. Not every sentence was about entertaining.

They were real. Real discussions with real problems no matter how mundane.

“Yeah, but at least we are getting it done. Next week is all at my computer or in meetings,” He adds, tucking away his card and putting his drinks into his backpack. “Anyways, so, when is your finals week?”

“In two weeks technically, but I have a couple of major things going on next week,” You answer, taking a seat on the stool next to you.

“Like what?” Spencer inquires, a light in his eyes that sends a shiver up your spine.

“Well, I’m taking four classes. Two of them have an exam and a final essay. One has a final essay and matching presentation, and then last is a group assignment that also has a presentation and essay.”

“Oh no, not a group assignment,” Spencer interjects, empathy on the tip of his tongue.

“I know,” You agree, nerves falling away as you ease into familiar territory. “People in masters programs are not as bad but they can still be pretty clueless and unhelpful.” You shake your head in frustration, “Like this one guy in my group, he thinks he is so edgy and smart. He takes no criticism but also doesn’t put in enough work. He’s basically made me his personal target and I literally have a group chat with two other members just to rant when he says the stupidest shit.”

“Damn, sounds like an ass.”

“He is,” You groan, closing your eyes. “But we are almost done. We have the essay due next week and then presentations during the finals period.” You grin in relief, “After that, I have two weeks of break before starting my internship with the professor.”

“Are you getting paid for that?” Spencer asks.

The conversation was flowing easily, his interest in your life more evident than ever. It isn’t lost on you that he’s exhibiting every sign of attentive listening and it makes your insides twist. He’s leaning forward, fingers tapping away on the counter as he nods periodically.

“Only in experience,” You sigh. “Money would be great, but I’d rather learn from this and not get paid than not do it at all. I only have to dedicate 12 hours a week to it anyway and that’s not much considering my usual schedule is jam-packed.”

“What’s the study about?” He asks, holding your gaze more often than usual. You find it hard to reciprocate, too nervous to engage in whatever he is doing. You aren’t sure if you could call it flirting because he definitely wasn’t complimenting you, but he was acting differently enough that it was noticeable.

Before you can answer, a customer walks in, the bell ringing in your ears as you look at the brunette in front of you. You expect him to leave like every time before, but he doesn’t move. Although thrown off slightly, you recover quickly and answer his question. When the customer is ready to check out, Spencer simply steps to the side but lingers near. As soon as the man leaves, Spencer is right back where he was and asking you another question that keeps you talking.

He leaves twenty minutes later, eyes half-lidded and tired. You don’t see him that morning, likely because he doesn’t have to go into the office as early as usual. Despite logic, you still miss him.

~~

When Spencer comes in that night, he’s later than usual. Not by much, it’s not even 2 am when he walks through the door. And yet, he’s apologetic.

“Hey, sorry,” He mumbles, coming right up to the counter.

Taken aback, your hands slip from your keyboard and you stand up straight. Fridays were always the busiest weekday and although you did wonder where Spencer was, you didn’t have much time to think about it.

“I was playing a game and totally lost track of time,” He continued, a touch more out of breath than usual. He runs a hand through his short, recently bleached hair.

“No worries,” You say, not quite sure why he’s apologizing. It’s not like you had a set time to hang out or do something together. “Need to come get a drink so you can keep going?” You ask, trying to dissipate the awkward feeling that was bubbling up. You didn’t want to let yourself assume more than was reality.

“No, no, I mean,” He stumbles, “I probably will go back to playing, I just—never mind.” He looks down, staring at the counter, specifically the display of scratchers in the built-in glass case.

God, this felt so weird. You shouldn’t have said that, maybe he actually wanted to see you but then you ruined it by making it about the drinks and not you.

“So, what game were you playing?” You ask, the air feeling stuffy.

After a relieved sigh, Spencer goes into the details. You listen intently because not only is he a good storyteller, but you also genuinely care about his interests.

As he rants about some game mechanic, your mind begins to wander. More precisely, you wonder if your affection for him is obvious. Even from the short interaction you had in front of Michael, he could tell there was something more going on. To a stranger would it be obvious? To your friends would it be obvious? Would they say you two would make a cute couple? Or would they not see the chemistry?

“Oh, that’s frustrating,” You say, picking up on the pause in his monologue.

“Eh,” He shrugs, “It’s life.” He leans over the counter, shoulders more relaxed than when he first entered. “I needed a break anyway. So, how’s your night been?”

“Well,” You begin. “I felt rather lost without you.” Sarcasm is dripping off your tongue and Spencer immediately smiles. “My internal clock is all screwed up.”

“You poor thing,” He says, playing along.

“You, sir, need to take your responsibility more seriously,” You laugh, sitting back down in your chair and leaning over to grab your water. “More than half an hour late, I’m sure your body is screaming for a Mountain Dew.”

“Not just a Mountain Dew,” He protests, “A Mountain Dew Kickstart.”

You giggle, just about to add something before the bell rings and your eyes immediately shift to the front door. The patron, dressed in black jeans, a blue hoodie, and a leather jacket, comes up to you immediately. In the fifteen-foot walk between you and the door, you notice he is at least twenty years older than you, skin wrinkling and sagging with age. His clothes are worn, fraying at the seams. When he pushes forward, Spencer immediately slinks away, stepping over to look at the opposite wall of food. The stranger places his hands on the counter and you see dirt under his nails.

When he speaks, his voice is hoarse.

“Two packs of the Marlboro Red,” He commands, his eyes dragging up and down your body. Just as you turn to grab the cigarettes, you can see a smirk forming on his lips.

You sigh, taking a moment to harden your exterior before turning around to scan the packs. These kinds of customers were uncommon for the area, but still came in enough for you to pick them out of a crowd immediately. Usually, they leave easily enough.

“Anything else?” You ask, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

“Two of those beef taquitos, hun,” He says, a dirty finger pressing against the warm glass.

You feel a wave of cold at the name but move aside to grab the hot food without any fuss. The sooner he leaves the better. When you hand them over to him, he purposefully moves his hand far enough forward that it touches yours. You are vaguely aware of Spencer in the background, but force your eyes off him.

You can deal with this on your own just fine.

The stranger's eyes linger on your hand and you snatch it away, typing on the tablet to add the taquitos to his total.

“Anything else?” You echo, voice more curt than before.

“Hmm,” He hums contemplatively, putting his finger to his chin like he’s performing. “I suppose I’ll take your number too.”

You fake a laugh, looking into his eyes for only a moment before going back to your screen. “Although I’m flattered, I don’t give my number to strangers.” A few more taps to the device, “Your total is $22.37.”

“Well,” He leans forward and reads off your name from the tag. It sounds sickly coming from his lips. “My name is Mark. Give me your number and then we won’t be strangers.” He pulls out his card to pay, shoving the cigarettes into his pockets.

You give him a forced smile, resting your hand on your heart while you try to let him down gently. “Nice to meet you, Mark, but still. I am not interested.”

“Why?” He questions, “You got a boyfriend?”

You debate telling him you’re in a relationship. Maybe it will get him to leave, maybe he’ll just suggest you cheat. It’s always difficult to tell.

“Dude,” You hear a voice speak up. “You’re holding up the line.”

Mark turns around to see Spencer a few feet behind. You have to crane your neck to see him, the brunette lining up down an aisle. He’s holding some random items, clearly having wandered around the store, paying attention but trying to look like he was merely shopping.

Just before Mark can say anything, Spencer is pushing forward and shouldering past. “Just take the L and move on,” He deadpans, his voice low and foreboding. He stares down the stranger, putting his items onto the counter without even looking away. He’s half a head shorter than the guy, but his presence alone makes up for that tenfold.

“Here’s your receipt,” You quietly interject, holding it out. Half of you was thankful for the interruption, but the other half of you was annoyed. Despite that, you choose to use this opportunity to end the conversation.

With a huff, Mark snatches the receipt from your hand.

“Whatever,” He mumbles to himself, “Bitch.”

The bell dings as he exits, leaving you and Spencer in a loud silence. You let out a shaky breath.

“Oh my god,” Spencer begins. His words draw your gaze away from the door and to him. You can see the concern on his face and the disgust in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You have a moment to say before he’s talking again.

“What an ass. Do you not have a panic button?”

“I do,” You answer, “But that’s for robberies.”

“Or this!” He protests, gesturing at the door where the man had exited. “You need to stay safe.”

“I was staying safe,” You defend.

“I can’t believe they have you alone at this time of night,” Spencer continues, seemingly not registering your words. “Like, anyone can just come in here!”

“Spencer,” You say, trying to grab his attention.

“You should never have to deal with that kind of–”

“Spencer,” You repeat, finally getting him to shut up.

“What?”

“It’s fine, I can deal with this on my own. You didn’t need to help,” You explain, wishing the moment would simply pass so you could move on.

“Just because you can deal with it on your own doesn’t mean you have to,” He argues, his voice softer than before.

His words leave you at a loss, unsure how to respond. He breaks the silence before you can.

“How often does this happen?”

“Not often,” You say, struggling to make any eye contact. “This is a nice area and usually they just give up after a couple of tries.”

Spencer sighs, running a hand through his hair with an exasperated expression. “Sorry,” He mumbles, the word being pulled from him. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” You can see the regret in his eyes. “I got so heated and I should have just made sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” You say, “Thanks.” His apology was unexpected but very appreciated. “I am fine.”

Spencer nods, the moment feeling slightly awkward as the resolution comes. “When does the next person get here?” He asks.

“Four,” You answer, taking a chance to grab your phone and check the time.

2:21

“Damn, that’s a long time.”

“It’s whatever,” You shrug. “It goes pretty quickly since I’m basically just talking to you and then doing homework.”

When the words register for him, there’s a glint in his eyes and a small smile forming on his face. “That’s good,” He replies. There’s a pause before he speaks again, “But damn, that’s like an hour and a half away.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, resting back on your stool.

“Can I stay?” He asks, surprising you. “For peace of mine, I mean. I’m just thinking about me leaving and that guy coming right back in. I don’t know, it’s dumb, but I just can’t imagine leaving you right now.”

“Sure,” You reply, interrupting his word vomit once you’ve regained your barrings.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” You shrug, a closed-lip grin forming. “I would love for you to keep me company.”

“Cool,” He says, a smile forming for him.

The moment is awkward and foreign. From an outside perspective, you probably both look like grinning idiots.

“Well,” Spencer begins, breaking the silence, “I’m definitely going to need an energy drink to stay awake.” He looks down at the pile of snacks he brought up. “You keep working, I’m gonna put these away and come back up with stuff I actually want to buy.”

“Roger that,” You reply, giving him a look before turning back to your computer. You don’t get much work done as you wait for him to come back up. You can’t see him in the aisles, but as he moves between aisles, he always looks at you. The security camera screen is just to your right and you can’t help but watch him as he puts away the random collection of items.

You’re nervous, too distracted by his presence to focus on anything. You were somewhat excited to spend such a prolonged period of time with him. However, you were also absolutely terrified that you would make a fool of yourself or simply seem too boring.

“Okay,” You hear him say, already aware that he was making his way back to the front. “All done.” He is now holding three cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart and a chocolatey protein bar. “Can I also get a couple of taquitos?”

“What kind?” You ask, reaching forward to start scanning his items.

“Your pick, I guess."

You smile at him and see he’s already grinning at you. You can’t help it, everything he does seems to make you happy beyond logic. “I’ll give you one chicken and one fiesta. The beef is fine and the cheese is not good.”

“Sounds like a plan,” He laughs, pulling out his card to pay and then opening a can and taking a big swig.

“Did that guy getting some make you crave them?” You ask, a joking glint in your eyes as you look up at him.

“Am I a misogynist if I say yes?” He replies, making you let out a laugh that was just a little too loud.

When you hand him the taquitos, he leans back onto the counter, head turned so you can see his side profile. He has the drink in one hand and the paper bag of taquitos in another. He takes a bite, a comfortable silence falling over you both. You occupy your time by looking down at your computer and mindlessly clicking around while you try to think of things to talk about. 

“How was work?” You say, deciding on that as the least risky option.

“Good,” He shrugs. “We finished a little late and traffic meant I didn’t get home till almost 7 pm.”

“Oh jeez,” You groan. “My commute is pretty easy in the morning because I go opposite the traffic.”

“I’m jealous,” He replies, smiling at you. “Do you live far from here?”

A shock of electricity shoots through your body. “Somewhat. This isn’t my local convenience store, but I’m not that far.”

Spencer nods, “This isn’t mine either.”

“What?”

He turns to look at you, eyebrows perked up like he didn’t just say something ridiculous.

“This isn’t your nearest convenience store,” You repeat slowly. When he nods, you ask, “So why do you come here?”

Spencer laughs, realizing his mistake. “The one nearest me is literally down the street, but they don’t always have these,” He answers, holding up the pineapple orange mango-flavored drink. “This store is only a few more minutes away and it always has them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s because you buy our stock,” You joke. “I’ve literally had my boss ask about why we are selling so many more.”

“Really?” He gasps, leaning in closer. “I used to only make the walk here if the closer one was out, but four months ago I just stopped bothering.”

The fact that four months is when you started working is not lost on you. Feeling confident, you add, “What about when you get coffee? I’m sure the other one has coffee.”

“True.” He looks slightly caught off guard, eyes scanning the store before speaking, “I only come to get coffee here if I’m too lazy to make it at home and running early enough to…” He pauses for a second, the sentence closing as if it wasn’t the planned ending. Finally, he adds, “To see you.”

You hum, looking down because your face is warm and you’re at a loss for words. Luckily, he’s too nervous to look at you either. You feel tingly, knowing full well that this is a special moment that you’ll look back on if you end up dating.

“Anyways,” Spencer breaks the silence. Before he can say anything else, he yawns, mouth opening wide.

“You know you can go home, right?” You laugh. When you look down at your computer, you see it’s about half an hour later. “No one has come in and I doubt anyone will before Marie gets here.”

“No, no,” He protests. “And anyway, aren’t I making time fly?”

“I suppose,” You grin. “You are quite great company.”

Spencer flashes you a smile that makes your insides twist. You wonder if he is picking up on all this. If he can tell that you’re interested in him.

“I’m honored.”

“You should be.” You sarcastically quip. “I have high standards for the company I keep close to me.”

“Is this close?” He contemplates aloud. “I’ve never even seen you without your black polo, black pants, and nonslip shoes.”

You laugh, looking down at your clothes. “Don’t you like this fit?”

“I mean, I love it,” Spencer starts, “But I don’t know how much you’re serving day to day.”

“I serve even when I’m only going to class,” You protest. “Maybe when I’m done with finals, I’ll grace you with my out-of-work personality.”

Spencer grins, “I’d be honored.”

You’re on high alert, knowing exactly what was happening.

“You should be,” You echo, unsure of what else to say. It doesn’t matter though. You could say anything and Spencer would find you charming.

“Maybe we can go to competing stores and graffiti them,” He suggests, long since turned around so he can look at you fully.

“Pft,” You laugh. “I don’t want to get arrested with you the first time we hang out.”

“You don’t? That’s usually my go-to!”

“Well, my go-to is food. Or the arcade.”

“The arcade?” He questions. “All this time I’ve been talking about games and you’ve never mentioned that you’re also a gamer?”

“I am not!” You protest. “Definitely not compared to you. You’re a savant and I’m the fool.”

“I doubt that,” He replies, a grin never leaving his face as he leans in closer. “I say arcade so I can check out your skills.”

“Deal,” You say, leaning onto the counter so you are only a few feet away. “The arcade it is.”

[ur1simp]

𔓘Marty x Reader𔓘

(hello! Sorry I haven't been posting much, I'm still writing the week from like...3 weeks ago sorry for that. Um, I hope you enjoy this! Get ready to have some...mixed emotions? Idk ILY GOODBYE! I'm also having really bad cramps. I may make a Marty x Reader story for girls who are on their . Just because Im on mine and I'm in pain.)

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A saw blue flash outside my window. I was home alone at the time, I looked outside to see...a goofy old car? Weird. I probably shouldn't go outside to look but, eh? Who's here to stop me? I went to go grab my flashlight, and my boots. I put those on and went outside.

"hello? Anyone here?" I asked aiming the light at the car.

"H-Hi! I uh I'm sorry for crashing my..del- my..." the boy looks around and sees a Tesla. "My...Tesla!"

"are you okay? That's not a tesla. By the way, where did you come from? I saw a blue flash and Im now looking at a teenager who looks like he came from the 80s." I said as the boy gets out of the car, slowly.

"oh uh it's a...dress-up!" He says

"a cosplay?" I burst out laughing.

"hm? Look, can I have some money or something so I can stay somewhere?" He says with a serious face.

I hand him $20 dollars and he take it and runs off.

"wow, really can't trust people now. He just ran off." I say and walk inside.

The next day, I woke up to hearing tapping on my window. I look to see that same boy from last night.

"what?" I say when I opened the window.

"Geez, waking up on the wrong side of the bed?" The boy says.

"what do people who watch people? 'peeping Tom'? How long were you watching me? Nevermind, ignore that. What do you want?" I back away from the window as I see the boy jump in.

"nothin, just wanted to come in." He gave me a smile-smirk and raised his eyebrows.

Gosh that smile. WAIT I DONT EVEN KNOW HIS NAME!!

"what's your name? You look like a slacker." I asked and gave a fact.

"haha, very funny. Um no Im Marty Mcfly." Marty said.

"I'm Y/N L/N."

He laughed.

"okay Mrs.McFly."

"ayo- what?"

"I'm joking!"

"haha..."

I actually had a fun time with Marty, he said he would like to come again for the rest of the week. How could I say no? He asked me if I wanted to date on the 4th day. I said yes, even though we hardly knew each other.

I got a call on the 7th day:

"Hello, Y/N? Can you meet me outside your window?"

...

I saw him outside the window. I came down.

"hey!" He said while smile-smirking.

"sup."

"look, I want you to know is I love you. No matter how far I am from you. You will always live in my heart. I have to go..now."

Next moment I know is he pulled me into a kiss.

"see you later future Girl." Marty said as he hoped inside his car and back up, went into reverse, and went up to 88mph and disappeared.

"marty...?...Marty? Marty!" I yell.

It's been 70 years, I'll never forget him. I'm 87 years old. There has been Flying cars, cellphones, ai, and blue tooth headphones. I'm still telling my story, I'll never forget my first teenage Love and my only love. I adopted a girl when I was 27 and she had started a family with her husband. I never heard from Marty Again..I hope he's doing okay.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Jumping onto the menstruation station, may I request Jason Brahms and Michael x reader on their period? Reader doesn't have to be a woman ^^

May I be 🦊 anon please?

Various slashers x reader on their period

Yes yes you can be fox anon! I'm still new to emoji anons so I dont.. know what all it is.. is it just a means for an anon to ID themselves without giving away their blog, or is there more to it?/genq

First time writing for Michael I think! Woo! Hope it's okay since i dont read much stuff for him and it's been a minute since I've seen the halloween movies <\3

Characters: Jason, Brahms, Michael Myers (OG/2018)

Notes: reader is GN but AFAB

CWs: mentions of canon typical violence

Jason

Oh he definitely does not know what a period is, do you really thing Pam ever told him? If anything he might have heard mentions from campers while he was.. sizing them up before his attack.. but even then that's being generous! Very anxious the first time you have your cycle around him, but he seems to calm down significantly when you explain. It's not so much that its blood, it's the fact that it's coming from you and he doesnt understand why. Very caring, wont let you do anything around the cabin. Takes you out for fresh air, he doesnt mind carrying you! He feels so so helpless if he cant take your cramps away.. generally hes an angel with how he treats you, even with the learning curve!

Michael

Between the three hes the most.. normal about it. Nonchalant, even. Hes not at all phased by blood, that much is obvious thanks to the occasional nights where he comes back home covered in the stuff. Hes a little.. uncaring.. when it comes to helping you. Is that the correct word? He will silently grab you a blanket or some pain killers if you need it- but hes not going to cuddle with you on the floor.. comfort is not Michael's field of expertise, either... though it's not like this behavior is new from him

Brahms

Similar to Jason he probably doesn't know what a period is, or at least not a lot of the details. He's probably heard of it but other than that hes clueless. Pesters you when you start getting down, whether emotionally or physically- it's his own way of seeing if you're sick. Explain to him what's going on because otherwise hes going to bother you about your chores.. oh.. you're hurting and bleeding? You dont.. need to see a doctor, right? No? He does some of the duties around the house- cooking, cleaning, things like that. Hes not totally helpless, though his cooking... could use some work. Tries his hand at making your favorite meals.. fails miserably because hes always had his meals cooked for him.. watching someone cook can only teach you so much, especially when you're watching from the walls

[postmodernbeliever]

little darling- fox mulder x female reader (SMUT OH MY GOD…)

fox mulder knows how badly you want to be touched, to be taken care of, and he is obsessed with being the first and only guy to do it.

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my ao3 | word count: 6,071

content tags: smut, smut so good in my brain it came out poetic?, loss of virginity, virginity kink, dom fox mulder, protective gentle extremely horny fox mulder, embarrassment, sexual fantasy, plus size reader gets sooooo much love, im blushing just posting this aaaaaaa, oh some religious bits bc catholic girls are freaky and also his sex is THAT good, cross-posted on ao3

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fox knew it was wrong, and he didn’t care. he knew how he thought about you, how he touched you in his mind, how he wanted to possess you was culpable- but then again, how shameful could it truly be? how bad was it to want to take care of you, to teach you the right way, to want to show you how good love is supposed to feel? well, maybe it wasn’t completely pure, because he nearly came untouched just thinking about you sometimes, but he just couldn’t help himself. he wanted to. he wanted to be the one you chose to give yourself to. the only one. 

it was always in the most mundane moments, like this one, that he needed it most, which played into his guilt. soft moments where you were unaware of what you were saying or doing, clueless as to how you were making him feel. now, as you sat watching the sex scene from basic instinct while fox pretended to be filling out a case file at his desk, was one of those moments. you squirmed in your seat with a sweet blush on your cheeks, watching the slight caricature of sharon stone on top of michael douglas, pupils blown wide and trying to hide your interest. fox was doing his best not to move a muscle, but he felt like a vein would pop if he didn’t turn around to look at you. his stomach was twisting itself into hot, trembling knots just wondering what the scene was doing to you. 

you’ve been dating him for a few months now, and upon meeting him, you fell in love in a way you still didn’t understand. he did, too. he idolizes you, he holds you up above everyone else to his detriment. after the first few dates, you told him that you wanted to take the physical aspects of the relationship slow because you had personal obstacles to overcome; he promised to do so, because when you look at him, his entire world glows, and he refused to jeopardize that heaven you unraveled. but he’s learned a lot about you since then simply through deduction. the few risqué movies you’ve watched with him proved through the surprise on your face that you hadn’t seen much video porn, let alone been touched; the books you tried to hide in your purse had absurd covers with the lustful silhouettes of cowboys and prairie girls, corporate bosses and assistants, big looming over small against some dark backdrop– all of it meaning that when you were alone, you fantasized. but the most telling was when fox himself touched you, albeit innocently. it was like you’d never been touched by anything before. when fox’s fingers ghosted over your knuckles as he held your hand, you’d giggle like a schoolgirl, hiding your face in your shoulder. even better, when he brought those same hands to the soft, warm apples of your cheeks, you’d shudder, melting into his touch like you’d lost your volition. it didn't matter how he did it- if his hands were on you in some capacity, your breath hitched in your throat like a fool. 

you wanted to let him touch you. there wasn’t a thing in the world you wanted more than to let him give you all of the things you’d dreamed, all of the things he must be aching to, but it was difficult for you. it seemed no amount of love was enough to break down your walls– you’d never let anyone that close. you’d always struggled with your body and your worth, and the little dating experience you’d had wasn’t much to boast about. you weren’t what people wanted, even if you were deserving. you knew fox was different, and that to him you weren't too big or not pretty enough, but you had just about every anxiety about physical affection. he had no idea you were a virgin on top of it all, which only made the pressure greater. you just couldn’t get over the fear. but you yearned to have it, so much so that even the smallest instances set your body aflame. you had the most lewd things running through your head when fox did just about anything. once you watched the man reach for the cereal box on the top shelf in his kitchen, and his sleep shirt rode up to reveal the dark happy trail that disappeared down his pants, and you felt so dizzy you could’ve dropped dead. and whenever he was close, it was unbearable. you replayed the sensation of his strong, lean hands resting protectively over your hip at his friend’s house. you thought about the way his lips felt on your forehead so often you could’ve written a book based solely on the texture. it drove you insane, the way you wanted him, and you drove yourself insane every time you didn’t act on it. but what did you know of hands, of mouths, of letting someone see what you shroud in fabric every day? what did you know of making him feel good, too, of being worth the wait for him?

now, as you curled up on his couch, you watched michael douglas’ hand grip sharon stone’s leg. it was big, but not big like fox’s. you imagined it was your boyfriend on the television, dark and brooding, as you saw how the man dove between the blonde’s legs, starving; her back arched, propelling her hips forward into his face, and she let out a soft moan. in your head, you saw yourself on that bed, and fox as hungry. you squeezed your thighs together and gathered the blanket draped across your legs in your palms, trying not to look as overwhelmed as you felt. but the agent who listened to the heavy breathing on screen saw exactly what was happening to you. he saw the blood rushing to the tips of your ears, tinting them the color of your bitten lips; he saw the way you shifted rhythmically beneath the blanket, almost undetectable, but absolutely undeniable. fox looked up at the ceiling as if to thank the god he didn’t believe in for playing basic instinct on cable, and he stood up from the desk, stalking over to sit beside you on the couch. as his body made the cushions dip, you smiled nervously. through a cracking voice, you said, “i didn’t know this movie was all… y’know.”

‘oh, yeah, it’s pretty heavy,” fox nodded, attempting his best unassuming expression. “still good, though, huh?”

“i mean, sure,”

“yeah, i think so, too.”

fox sighed just a tad too loudly and let his hand fall on your thigh. nothing but the blanket was between his palm and your skin. you looked to him with a pleading pair of eyes, though you didn’t really know what you were pleading for. the moaning from the television got louder, and you felt so warm, and his hand wasn’t going anywhere. you had no idea what to do. fox grinned at you and let his head tilt back over the couch as he swallowed thickly. you stared at the curve of his stately neck, how his adam’s apple bobbed, and every inch of your body pined in his wake. fox gazed at you, lounged wide like a lion, and his hand slowly traveled up your thigh to the crease of your hip. he slid his fingers across the soft crevice, and you were still at a statue, stuck between craving the friction and terrified to feel it. 

“can i ask you something personal?” fox’s voice was gentle. husky.

“...mhm.”

“has anyone ever, uh,” you followed his gaze to the tv, where michael douglas was doing things that made your hands sweat. “have you ever done it like that?”

you prayed that a black hole would open up in the floor and suck you in, so you never had to admit the truth. but his hand was still in that soft spot, and his minty eyes were made of looking glass, and the image of him that fucked your mind was so boggling you were on the edge of giving up. 

“just out of curiosity,” he added, lips curling into a cheshire smile.

you ran a hand across your burning cheeks and murmured, “uh, no. no, i haven't.”

“it’s interesting, y’know, how they can make it look so real,” fox pursed his lips, pushing his hand back down your thigh to rest on your knee. 

before you could bite your tongue, you confided, “i wouldn’t really know.”

fox’s hand paused at the crest of your kneecap, a chill running down his body. he thought of you, his pretty, quiet, gentle girl, and he never once stopped to think why you were so reserved. he always blamed the little silver cross that hung from your neck and some guy from your past, but he neglected other options. but now, his mouth watered. 

“really?”

you tugged the blanket up to your face. “is that a bad thing?”

the man turned to face you, pulling your hands away to reveal the flushed face beneath. you were breathing so heavily. a need rattled his bones, one he wished he could stifle. pictures flashed in his brain- you, writhing beneath him, the feeling so new, making pretty faces as he did what the people in movies do. him, defiling you, ruining the girl you’ve been, clutching to your cross as your mouth bled with his name. maybe he was a monster, but his cock twitched in his dress pants at the humiliated expression you bore.

“no, baby, of course not!” he chuckled, “no, that’s– that’s a good thing.”

“but i-”

“everyone does things at their own pace,” 

“but…”

“but what, sweetheart? i don’t expect anything from you.” fox sweetly lied. he wouldn’t force it, but he wanted it. badly. 

“i just wish that, uh, that i had by now. sometimes. i guess.” 

your eyes darted between the television screen and the way his nimble fingers encased both of your wrists. it only took one hand for him to hold you down… what a career he could make with his other hand free. 

“have you ever tried?” 

“...no.”

“do you want to?”

you let out a nervous hum. something came over you like it always does, and you leaned over to hide in his shoulder; in a way, that was better than letting him see your face. his hand rested at the nape of your neck as he cooed, “awh, baby, it’s okay.”

“it’s not really okay,” you mumbled into his shirt. “it’s embarrassing.”

“i don’t think it is. i think it’s cute.”

you felt his hand run down your back, and you pushed yourself a little closer, so you could rest against his neck. fox kept talking since you were at a loss. 

“nothing embarrassing about that, i promise. truthfully, you’re better off. so many guys out there just wanna take advantage, y’know?” he reasoned, tracing little things at the small of your back, fingertips like pens. “probably would’ve wished you didn’t, because you’re so hard on yourself… i would hate to know you lost your virginity to some guy who didn’t care about you. not the way i do.”

the heat of your breath against his neck was maddening. everything about you was maddening. how you curled into him for protection, for reassurance, how your palms tugged at the wrinkled cotton of his work shirt because you didn’t know where to put them. the little nods of agreement you made with every opinion he voiced. he wanted to knock you on your back and fuck you right there, but he couldn’t. he couldn’t spring it on you. you had to want it, you had to let him. and he knew you wanted to let him because it was all over you. 

he asked again, “baby, do you want to?”

he raised his wandering hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you felt this urge inside you, an indulgence just begging to be released. acting selfishly, you pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, and beneath your lips, you felt the vibration of a little growl. fox tangled his palm in your hair, and as gently as he could, he pulled your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. 

“is that a yes?”

your stomach churned. “yes.”

“good. come on.”

fox rose from the couch and tugged you up with him. he watched the blanket fall from your legs to see that your sleep shorts had ridden up and tucked themselves in the chub of where your thighs and legs met, that sacred spot he’d touched before, and he rolled his eyes in ardor. with your shaky hand in his, the man led you into his bedroom, where he motioned for you to sit at the edge of the bed. 

“fox, i…”

“what, love?”

“i… i don’t know.”

you watched him walk over to his closet and open the doors, revealing the shuffled-around mess inside. with his back turned to you, you saw his hands disappear to unbutton the dress shirt that crumpled on his shoulders from a day’s work. as he pulled it over his head, the spotless skin of his sculpted back smiled at you. your hips were warm. 

“you’re nervous,” he said, still facing away as he threw the shirt into the basket. “i know you are. but it’s not so scary. plus, you’re with me. i’m nice, aren’t i?” “you’re very nice,” you smiled, “but you’ve done this before. you… you know so much more than i do.”

“are you sure?” fox’s laugh rumbled low in his throat, “because i’ve seen the books you read. bet you’ve got all kinds of ideas i’ve never even tried before.”

you shifted on the bed, tucking your legs into a crisscross. “w-well, that’s different!”

“no, it’s not!” the man teased, shaking his head like you were hopeless. he crossed the room, back to you, where he stood like a pillar before the bed. when you didn’t meet his gaze, he tucked his finger beneath your chin and made you. “you’ve been thinking about it for so long, haven’t you, sweetheart? about me? must be so lonely, just thinking, never doing.” 

he passed his thumb over your trembling chin, admiring your starry eyes, how they reflected so much love. you were so pretty, a pretty he couldn’t have imagined if he’d seen all the most beautiful women in the world. none of them could hold a candle to his girl. “you’re so smart, so good at handling things when they’re hard. but you never let anyone handle you, do you? not even me, baby, and i could be so good at it.”

you couldn’t control how you let him sway you. you gave yourself over, basking in the rush. he settled on his knees, so you had to look down, and he pressed his hands to where your love handles dipped, passing the skin over in his hands. 

“i’ve wanted to let you,” you sighed, “i’ve… thought about it.”

fox’s eyes, eager as a puppy’s, looked up at you as he asked, “well, when we’re in your head, where do i start?”

you shivered. “you kiss me first.”

the man decided that you deserved to have your fantasies fulfilled; if in your pretty mind you’d dreamed up a routine, then he’d follow it, and he’d prove to you that nothing was as good as the real deal. he pushed up on his knees and leaned in, thankful for his low-set bed, as he pressed his lips against yours. you disassembled against his touch; he moved with a cadence that had your head spinning, fingers behind your ears, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. you’d kissed him plenty, but never like this. never so messy, so desperate. he tasted warm, and kind, sunshine in a mouth. you let out a soft whimper as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth.

“i think you’re a bad girl in that head of yours, angel,” he mumbled into your mouth. “what do i do next up there?”

you were too afraid to say it, and you didn’t want to pull away from his lips, so instead you reached for the wrist that held his hand to your face. fox’s throat tightened as you guided his hand down to your stomach, a place you didn’t let him touch often. 

“so pretty, baby,” he admired, knowing exactly what it is you needed from him. he paraded his kisses down to your neck, where he got so much sloppier. he licked a stripe over your throat, nipping at the soft skin of your jaw, and he passed the chub of you over in his devastating hands. you keeled forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder, and he littered your ear with little pecks. “so soft. i love your tummy, y’know. how it looks when you wear those pretty dresses, and how when you wear my shirts i can see the shape. fuckin’ adorable, you have no idea. prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

“fox,” you whined. he was barely even touching you, but the weight of his words anchored your lungs to the floor. 

he took a little liberty and leaned down to tug your shirt up, and began brushing his lips over you, spit for paint. you let your hands wander to his hair, and your stomach flipped at the noises he made. 

“now what, sweetheart?”

“y-you… agh,”

fox pulled away, and you swooned at the sight of his pretty lips already swollen. “forgettin’ already?”

“well…” you trailed off, feeling a mental fog roll in.

fox stood up and pushed at your shoulders, tilting you back onto his bed. laying down, he had more access to pushing your shirt up and seeing you for real. he sucked at his teeth, handsome face overtaken with want; you curved like a muse beneath him, and he wondered why you hid all this body beneath clothes. you felt his hands like a compass, mapping the cascading mountain ranges and slow, dipping valleys of your hips and thighs, as if his whole world was discovering you, as if his purpose existed within the endless confines of your flesh and bones. and his hands roamed freely, nomadically, through your land, committing every road that made you shiver to memory. 

“where do you touch yourself, princess?” fox smiled. you whined, and he clicked his tongue. “come on, show me.”

your hand shook, but you rested it over your shorts, and you curled your fingers in to prove you knew how. 

“good girl. bet you know just what to do, huh?”

“mhm,”

“but your fingers aren’t enough, are they?” fox pouted playfully as he hooked his thumbs beneath the elastic band squeezing your waist. 

“no,” you wheezed, “never.”

“fuck. you sound so pretty when you need me. let me see you.”

trying to stop himself from rushing, the man clambered on top of you and grabbed you by the back of your knees, pushing you up the bed a bit. when your head hit pillows, he tucked them behind you, and he crawled back down to your legs with a mission. gently, he tugged your shorts down, and beneath were little black boyshorts that cut into the skin of your thighs. he looked about as starving as michael douglas as he flattened his palms against your hips, adoring the sight. 

“y’know, most girls hide lacy things,” he teased, “i like this so much better.”

breathlessly, you said, “lace is itchy.”

“god, you’re just dying for it, aren’t you?”

you pushed up into his palms and whispered, “please.”

“please what?”

“do it,” you heaved, “i need it, fox.”

he didn’t need to be told again. he slid your panties down in one sweep and practically drooled over what you had kept from him all this time. he could’ve cried. this must be what people felt when they saw the mona lisa for the first time, or had a prayer answered. this was his very own da vinci original. this was god’s divinity trapped in your lower half. you were an irritated pink, your pussy plump as the rest of you; as he pushed your thighs wide, he found a sheen already coating your skin. “fuck, sweetheart, is this from the movie or me?”

“y-you.” you kicked yourself for all your stammering, but the glow of his cheeks soothed the embarrassment. 

“oh, yeah?”

you didn’t know how easy it would be to let yourself be touched before you just tried it. here, with the one man who might be the direct work on god on earth, you wanted to spill every secret now that you knew something of hands. your heart beat against your ribcage relentlessly as you admitted, “was imagining it was you on tv, fox, you and me,”

“jesus christ,” fox grunted, eyes dirty and dark. “i can fuck you better than he ever could.”

fox pressed his thumb to the bundle of nerves that throbbed between your legs, and just the pressure alone drew a dangerous moan from the back of your throat. he relished in the sound as he began to circle his finger, leaning down to kiss the searing skin. you rolled your hips against his touch, begging for more friction, and he wordlessly rewarded you with a new motion, one that needed two fingers for rubbing. you grabbed at his forearm as it came into reach, and he felt like he could explode from how you tugged at him. you held onto his arm like it was a lifeline. any other girl would’ve grabbed the bedsheets or touched her body, but your inexperience meant you were acting on instinct, and that quite possibly was the best thing he’d ever seen. watching you feel so good for the first time in your life had him panting like a dog. you were all his now, his pretty girl under his spell. an angel who knew only one name. 

“good, baby?”

“mm-nngh,” was all you had to say. 

“what a pretty girl.”

“fox…”

“good girl. only i can make you feel like this, right? not those guys in your books, none of those movies. just me, my hands, baby, my mouth,”

you used your grip on his arm to try and get him to go faster, but he refused. he wriggled free from your grasp and left a ghostly kiss on your stomach, tutting, “oh, no, angel. i’m gonna make this last. want you out of your mind when i’m done.”

you’ve felt powerless all your life, and you do even now, but this is the first time you’ve ever needed more. you were engrossed in being taken. you’d been too afraid to pray for this because you weren’t sure how the man upstairs would feel about you breaking his technical rules, but you had to have yearned to let fox take your virginity every night since you met him. you knew he’s done this before, but you didn’t know he was so gifted; but even he could tell you that it wasn’t so much his experience as it was how he wanted to ruin every other guy for you. and how could you want another when his hand– that which wrapped around the neck of a pistol, that which choked the air of men’s throats– circled your clit so gently, working a new kind of love into you that you never thought imaginable?

“been dreaming about this, y’know,” fox drawled, leaving stinging kisses on your waist. “been thinking about how our first time would go. and you’re doing so good, you’re taking it so well right now.”

you couldn’t speak. every word got caught in your chest. so instead you tugged at his hair, trying to get him to kiss you. he giggled, hovering over you and slowing his fingers so he could give you what you wanted. you moaned into his mouth, lips gnashing against his teeth in your eagerness, and just when you felt like you were starting to have some control, you felt two of his fingers push between your folds. they went so much deeper than you’ve ever gotten your own, and as he curled them inside you, your entire body shook. gasping against his cheek, you exhaled, “oh my god,”

“be careful, baby, you don’t want him to hear you,” fox warned, voice thick with lust. 

you grabbed at his chest, fingers running through the little curling hairs that grew in a thicket over his heart, and you felt it beating, keeping time with his hand. you wondered if sex felt like this for everyone the first time around, but then again, how could it? unless fox was there for them all, they could never have had it this good. 

“you’re so pretty,” fox cooed, “so pretty on my fingers. d’you feel pretty, baby?”

“mmm,”

“tell me you feel pretty,”

“i- i feel pretty.”

“mhm. what about me, love, you think i’m pretty, too? my hands feel pretty?”

“fuck,” you squeaked, “fox!”

“i know you do. say it.”

“you’re so pretty,” you droned, trying to catch his lips in a kiss, but he rerouted to your neck. 

you ground into his palm over and over again, and he felt you burning up on his fingertips, contracting, squeezing, shaking. he moaned into your shoulder, “do you wanna cum, baby?”

your hands scratched at his arms, and to his surprise, you shook your head violently. “not yet,”

“really?”

“mm-mm. not… not time yet.”

fox’s pupils swallowed the green of his eyes. the man licked his lips and slowed to a stop, letting his fingers rest inside of you, and he asked, “what comes next, then?”

even in a position so lewd as this one, you were too embarrassed to explain. so you reached up to his mouth, swiping your thumb across his slick bottom lip, and with pretty little doe eyes, you popped your finger into his mouth. you watched as he wrapped his lips around it, swirling his tongue over the salty taste of your skin, and you whispered, “i need you.”

fox pulled off your finger with a pop. “how?” 

he followed your lidded gaze as it traveled down to the bulge in his pants, and he nearly passed out. 

“you sure you’re ready for that?” his eyebrows knit together in true concern, but he knew he was the one who had to answer the question, too. he wanted to do right by you– you couldn’t regret this, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you did. “i can wait, you know. this is about you.”

“no. i’m ready,”

“positive?”

“mhm,” you sighed, “just… don’t hurt me.”

the man above you melted like putty, and the hunger he’d touched you with went soft. you saw that toothy grin again, the one that gave you butterflies, and he promised, “i’d never hurt you, angel.”

the scruff of his jaw even tinted a lovesick pink as he kissed you. your fingers scratched at the back of his ears like you would a dog’s, and you confessed between breaths, “i love you, foxie.”

his hands flew to his waist and he rushed to undo his belt and shimmy the slacks down. he wanted to scream, he wanted to stand at the edge of the world and tell every soul about the way you coated his entire existence in sugar, but right now, it was just you. he was alone with his girl, and if he couldn’t tell the world, he could at least make you sick of hearing it. 

“i’m so fuckin’ in love with you,” he swore, marking your face with invisible prints of his mouth. “i’m all yours, princess.”

“oh, god,” you groaned, watching how he spilled out of his boxers with glazed eyes. you had no idea where he was hiding all that. you felt a little dorky for the surprise, but who could blame you?

fox was too far to reign in. he grabbed your wrists and pulled you up, and he made you scoot up against his headboard; you pressed your back against the cold wood, and you yelped as he raised you in the air, pinning you to the wall. 

“fox, i-”

“you’re not too heavy,” he stopped you, knowing what you were going to say. “you’re perfect.”

you couldn’t complain- truthfully, you didn’t even get the chance to think about it, because he was all over you. with one hand holding you up by the leg, and the other gripping the headboard with white knuckles, he pushed himself between your legs, and you knocked your head into the wall at the way he stuffed you. 

“fuck, fox!”

it didn’t hurt, but god, was he big. pinned to the wall like this, you had no bearings. he had you suspended, stapled down by his sheer strength;  you never thought you could be fucked like this, some little ragdoll he could throw around, but clearly you underestimated how much he could handle. you felt the wind leaving your lungs as he pulled out and snapped back in, pelvis rolling hard against your swollen clit. he moved like a wave crashing down, managing to soak every part of you with his skin.

“fuck, sweetheart, so much better than i imagined,” he croaked, “feels okay, right?”

“s-so… so big…”

“oh, baby, i know,” he babied, leaving pinprick kisses on your jaw. “you can take it, pretty girl.”

his big hand tangled itself in the hair at the base of your neck as he fucked you into the creaking headboard. you were an endless machine of moans and profanities, head lolling, trying to keep your eyes open to watch the way his lips parted at the feeling of you encircling him. he tugged at your hair, and a guttural groan escaped your lips. 

“always wanted to get fucked like this, huh, baby? you’re such a good girl, you deserve it,”

“fox, please,”

“such a pretty girl,” he moaned, “jesus, you sure you’ve never done this before?”

as you bucked your hips against his swelling length, you offered a drunken grin. “only in my… dreams.”

“oh my god. you’ve got no idea how hot you are.”

he was everywhere, he was heaven, he was the pounding in your head as you collapsed against his body, letting him use you like a toy. you scratched at his shoulders, mouth all over his sizzling skin, and he flooded your ears with pretty praises. you hoped to god that by the time he was done you’d have the print of his hands tattooed on your hips, or that he’d never be done and you could float on by in this bliss forever. but his hips were thrusting hard, and falling out of time, and you felt your tummy squeezing like it was running out of air. he drowned in you, mouth full of dirty whines and strings of i love yous, and you knew you couldn’t hold back.

“f-fox… oh- oh god…”

“gonna cum for me, princess?”

“i… i’ve never…”

the feeling in your stomach was foreign and hot, and it was backing up all the functions of your brain. all you felt was fox between your legs, terrorizing this little spot that short-circuited all your nerves, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping his mouth with yours– and when he hit it one last time, with eyes rolling back, and you let everything go. fox felt the warmth of you spilling over him, and the silent scream you let out had him unraveling in seconds. his hands were all over your face, fingers on your teeth as he came inside you, feeling himself mixing with you, and nearly bursting again just knowing he was. 

“oh, baby,” he fussed, “good girl, atta girl!”

pulling out slowly, so you didn’t feel too shocked, he slid you down the headboard softly and helped prop you up against the pillows again. you couldn't see straight, and everything twinkled, but you did catch a glimpse of him sneaking back down the bed. the man admired the mess he left behind. the smallest dribble spilled out of you, and all of a sudden he was lapping it up with his tongue, thirsty as a castaway. your entire body buzzed with overstimulation, and in what felt like screams but only came out strangled, you exclaimed, “fuck, oh my god!”

his tongue split you open, collecting all the juices between your hips and smearing the inside of your thighs, the pretty little mound of your pussy, making you shimmer like an angel. he sucked, and he swirled, and he dug his tongue between your folds like a freak, and you grabbed at his sweaty hair, so full of him you wanted to thank your angels for sending you someone so perfect.

“come on, i know you’ve got more,” fox coaxed, “one more, baby, one more.”

black spots crossed your line of vision as you watched his face disappear in your legs, and the tidal wave rose again, drowning you in a feeling that had you bucking against his tongue like a rogue horse. you’d never been able to make yourself cum, but all it took was fox mulder to pull two loads right out of you. you felt disgusting, you felt drunk, you felt so good you could’ve died this way. you didn’t ever want to leave the bed. fox made his way back up, heaving, and he kissed you with milky lips. you tasted yourself on his tongue, and you needed his palms to pin your hips down as you trembled, stuck on your high. 

“good girl, didn’t that feel good?” kiss. “you did so good, baby,” kiss, “so good for me,” kiss, “m’so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“mm… agh,” 

“i know, love, take a deep breath.” you felt his hand press against your warm tummy, and he told you again, “take a deep breath for me.”

you smiled, trapped beneath him, and you breathed like he wanted you to. anything he wanted, for the rest of his life, he would get. through fuzzy vision, you saw his glittery eyes, the grecian curve of his face, the little white strip of teeth behind his handsome smile, and you felt so in love you didn’t know what to do with yourself. he started to blush under your gaze, so he laid down on top of you, resting his head on your chest to listen to your racing heartbeat. 

“foxie,” you whispered.

“hm?”

“m’not a virgin anymore,” you giggled, the joy bubbling out of you. 

his warm laugh echoed in your ribs. “not anymore.”

“all yours now,” you swooned, “are you happy?”

you felt his hand slither behind your back, and he scratched at your spine, making you squeal at the ticklish feeling. then he attacked your neck and shoulders, mercilessly going after all the spots he knows are most sensitive until you lost your breath again from his innocent touch. “stupid question!”

“ah!– fox– agh, stop!” you swatted at his hands, a blissful wreck.

“‘course i’m happy,” he chuckled as he relented. “are you?”

in a huff, you rested your spinning head on his pillows and blushed. “mhm. very.”

“worth the wait?”

“definitely. thank you.”

“my pleasure,” he teased, flopping down beside you and lacing his fingers with yours. and when a comfortable silence fell, he couldn’t help himself: “you know i’m never gonna stop thinking about this, right? i’m ruined for life.”

“shut up,” you laughed. 

“no, seriously. get ready for a life of me drooling over you doing absolutely nothing.”

“i’d like that life, i think.”

you curled up in his side, and he drew you close, letting you hide in the crook of his neck the same way you did in what felt like a lifetime ago on his couch. there was still a little devil on his shoulder, applauding him for taking a piece of you that no one else could have now, but more than anything, his heart ebbed and flowed in his chest, blossoming each time he looked down at your pretty face. he meant it when he said he was ruined. you ruined everything by letting him fall in love with you, and he has never felt so lucky. 

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

inspired by this ask ;)