Biff Tannen x Reader: Chapter One
(Please read the author’s note)
(A/N: Two changes: this will take place in college, not high school like it was in the movie, and there’s no terrible r*pe plot line with Marty’s mom anymore. Obviously this could be taken as a meme or seriously, I don’t mind either way you see it, but c’mon, Biff Tannen deserves redemption. His actor’s too sweet and handsome.)
Finishing class work early always has its perks of free time and earlier sleep, but it didn’t come without a cost, either. (Y/N)’s eyelid’s droop in boredom as they walk along the sun baked sidewalk of Hill Valley. A small, uninteresting town with nothing to do but glance at passing shops and daydream of buying trinkets with money you don’t have.
Not even being in college makes things more interesting around here. The old building where students gather is about as fun as a funeral. Professors are strict, students are too tired to party, and there are no dorms to stay in. Most of the community college’s students still live with their parents or in a dinky little apartment somewhere close to campus.
(Y/N) had the latter, and their job to keep the stupid apartment was even more grueling than school. Still, they had the day off of work so they were free to do as they wished after classes were over.
They still had to walk everywhere, though. A job at a gas station didn’t exactly pay enough to get through a month’s rent, let alone a car.
A sigh escapes them as they shift the weight of their backpack, soreness developing in the centre of their spine. It was a long walk home, and the sun was beating down mercilessly onto their skin and sticky clothes. Instead of continuing forward, they made a sharp turn down a cul-de-sac with a small bakery squatting next to larger buildings, and trudged into ‘McFly’s Pies’, the bell atop the door notifying an elderly man behind the counter.
“Well if it isn’t Little Brown,” he chuckles, sliding from around the counter, “summer heat got you beat?”
They glance up at him unamused, “what’s with that lingo, Marty? It’s twenty-twenty one.”
“Since when is rhyming words together ‘lingo’?”
“Since an old man said it to look cool,” they gave him a smile and plopped into a seat.
He rolls his eyes and chuckles, smacking them with a dishrag, “you and me both know your grandpa was the coolest old man to ever live.” He slips behind the counter and grabs a glass, filling it with cool water.
(Y/N) shrugs, “never met him Mart, only heard stories from you and Jen.” They take the glass gladly, gulping it down faster than they should have. Marty shakes his head and pulls out the seat across from them.
“Hey, slow down kid. And they aren’t stories, (Y/N). I may be old but I know what happened to me, Doc, and that DeLorean.” (Y/N) gives him a disapproving look over their glass, but remains silent. This has been an argument ever since (Y/N) was little, even their mother would take Marty’s side. ‘Emmet Brown was her father after all, she would know!’ was what Marty would always rebuke with. They’ve learned to ignore it, though there was always that curiosity of why they’d keep it up for so long, if it was a lie.
“Look,” his sudden speech caught (Y/N) off guard, “you got school work to do?” They shook their head, a wave of boredom hitting them again as they remembered there was nothing to do for today. Marty leaned forward in his seat, a trademark sly smirk wrinkling his already wrinkled face, “I got the key to Doc’s old shed. He kept all of his inventions in there. Mind reading machine, dream controller, even the DeLorean. It’s all in there.”
(Y/N) leans forward as well, intrigued, “what? Why are you telling me this now, after all those years of bickering?”
“I’d lost the damn thing,” he said, holding up a copper key he dug out of his pocket, “but turns out after ten years I found it under the pie racks today. Must be fate, huh?”
(Y/N) throws themself back dramatically in their chair and groans, “don’t tell me you believe in fate now, Mart. What’s next, true love?”
He chuckles and throws the key to them, “Jennifer’s all the proof I need, (Y/N). Even after seeing future old, gross, wrinkly me when she was a teen, she still loved me. And now that I am that old, gross, wrinkly man-”
“You’re only fifty two.”
“-she still loves me.” (Y/N) rolls their eyes so hard they’re sure they ruptured a vessel, but they can’t argue. Though they don’t entirely believe Marty and Jen’s fanciful story, they do know the couple had been together since high school. And that takes a lot.
“Well she ain’t wrinkle free either,” (Y/N) remarks, a shit eating grin tugging at the corners of their mouth as Marty widens his eyes in mock amazement.
“Sick burn Little Brown, now bounce. You already know where the shed is.” He shoo’s them as he hauls himself from the chair. (Y/N) wrinkles their nose at the obvious use of old slang, and grabs their bag.
“See ya.” He gives them a final wave before they disappear out the door, the bell chiming soon after.
It doesn’t take long for the sun to become an annoyance again as (Y/N) makes the final stretch out of the cul-de-sac, past their old house, and in front of a looming, beaten warehouse. Well, garage. Supposedly Doc Brown moved from Germany with his mother and father, who were rich, and bought a mansion here. It got destroyed, and the garage of it was where he lived until (Y/N)’s mother was born. Their mother told them he made a living making inventions for his clients because he spent the whole family fortune on trying to make the DeLorean.
“Crazy old geezer,” they say to themself as their eyes scan the chipped plaster, “I see where I get it from.”
The copper key in their palm reverberates with uncertainty. The fact that Marty found the key after ten years of it being lost seems unbelievably fishy to them. They’d known him since they could walk after all. That smirk meant something. But what was he hiding?
They slowly bring the key to the lock, pausing a few moments before finally shoving it in and twisting the gears. If there was any moment to find out, it was now.
The door creaks open followed by a barrage of dust and cold air. They bring their hand up to their mouth and cough, using the other to wave the particles away. Even though it was mostly dark, the thin curtains on the windows allowed sunlight to stream through. Silent clocks decorated the walls in large amounts, and strange looking machines stood with an eerie stillness about them. Furniture and cooking appliances looked untouched, a thick layer of dust coating the counters and a solitary TV in the corner.
And in the middle of it all, was a sleek, ivory car.
Feeling strange would be an understatement. Though (Y/N) had never met their grandfather, their mother and Marty’s eyes would light up whenever they spoke of him, and a warm fondness would unmistakably be present in their words. It felt as if (Y/N) didn’t have the right to be in here. They’d never known him, why were they allowed to glimpse his former life? It felt wrong, but they press forward into the frigid darkness.
(Y/N)’s hands graze the walls for a light switch, but upon finding and trying one there was no luck. They sigh and reach in their back pocket, pulling out their phone and turning on the flashlight. The rather rough looking sports car caught their eye almost immediately and they made their way through the clutter towards it. Dents and scrapes littered the bumper and doors as well as the windows.
“Damn, girl,” (Y/N) ran their hand across the damage, “you’ve been through hell. Maybe I’ll get dad to fix you up.” It wasn’t until they wandered to the back that they noticed the thrusters jutting from an intricate tangle of wires and added machinery, “oh, well, maybe not.”
They nearly leap from their skin as the door of the DeLorean hisses open, causing them to whip around and aim the flashlight inside the older vehicle. Slowly, they crept up to the opening, peeking inside and unsurprisingly seeing, well, nothing. “You better not be haunting me, gramps,” they grumble, feeling irritation crawl up their back.
There’s a pause before (Y/N) rolls their eyes and climb in, letting curiosity get the better of them. They switch off the light and pocket their phone, throwing their backpack to the passenger seat as well. Their fingers come to trace the various buttons and switches with wonder, questioning for a moment if what their mother and Marty said is really true.
Bright red, green, and yellow lights obscure their vision as their finger hits a switch.
Their hands immediately shoot up to cover their eyes as a dormant pair of goggles drop onto their lap. Blinded, they scream and rear their foot forward on the pedal. The ancient car lurches backward, tearing through various machines and furniture before breaking out of the garage. They grip the arms of the seat and move to slam the break, but it’s all too late. There’s a piercing array of colours before a zap of white light swallows (Y/N) along with the DeLorean, and they vanish.
For @mintgreenmenace and @im-a-butch-bitch-u-cant-kill-me in particular. They supported me in the making, real MVPs :’)
