i turn Kaz Miller into hunk but nice guy version! can you imagine what if Kaz were in Resident Evil? it would be great! i replace the STARS badge with MSF badge.
so jason todd rotted i forgot im in many other fandoms, maybe one day youll find chris redfield x reader out of me or god forbid an mishima x joker from persona 5 fic and yall would HATE what i have to say about kenny and lee from twdg
Promise im a loser in a bunch of different fandoms i just write for two universes for fun please
Summary: you dont want to go home, so you hang out with some dude you smoked a cigarette with. He’s a weirdo though.
A/N; Pretty OOC but its also an xreader so its already ooc just by existing
I stopped raving at like 15 y’all so all I know is like the underground scene and I’m not in the mood to go to raves now even tho I’m at the age where it’s probably alright for me to rave so woops on anything inaccurate on my part I genuinely forgot what it’s like. 14 year old me was kinda chill tho tbh, stay safe at raves, be conscious of what you consume and who you may receive it from.🙂↕️
Not the proudest of this one but I spent a while on it and it was a little self indulgent ill go back to sad stuff later
You felt the music blast in your ears and the crowd you were engulfed in felt the exact same, elbows and hips bumping into each other yet space was given where it was due. The people next to you giggling as the smell of nicotine and that shitty resin in cartridges filled your lungs.
The randoms you met earlier pulled you by your elbow, nabbing you off the dude who’d been giggling along with you ‘bout stories involving the guy up on the stage now. Some shit about knowing him as a kid and how stupid both of them were.
You almost yelped as you got pulled away, but honestly, you were too adrenaline filled and dopamine buffed to care. It’s been a good night so far.
“Hey, my girlfriend feels kinda overstimulated, and we’re gonna call it a night. We’re heading over to that diner that’s open till like… four? You wanna hang out or you gonna stay here a little longer?”
You paused to think about their offer, rubbing your eyes a bit and crouching down some to calm down from your serotonin high.
Your friend organized the event, asking if you’d do some piercings on the side before you decided to close it up pretty early, mostly just to enjoy what was going on and because there was a tattoo artist with a booth next to you who planned to be there until the last set.
You agreed after a short pause, and the couple helped you with getting your things before y’all began giggling and often stumbling into each other on the way to the diner.
“So you came alone?” The girl from the couple asks as her boyfriend devours the club sandwich on his plate like a starved peasant at a king's banquet beside her. You think he tried to repeat her question, but he was muffled by the food in his mouth until his girlfriend gave a look that you somewhat translated to “Shut up and eat before you talk.”
You nod in reply while munching on some slightly burnt fries, the diners specialty. The meal was moderately calm, mostly consisting of some very much needed decompressing as she tells you ‘bout the tattoos she’s been thinking about getting. You recommend some mutuals that you know did some amazing work while her boyfriend looked ready to fall asleep on the shitty booth’s table top. Despite the comfortable atmosphere the two had provided, you started to sense a pair of eyes on you. Not in the diner, but outside it. Your quick glances there told you otherwise, just awfully parked cars, a guy smoking, and some other people you recognized from the rave giggling by the curb on their phones.
“Alright, I think I’ll drive. I stayed sober tonight and he’s seconds away from passing out-“ The girl muttered, before being cut off by her sleepy partner,
“Nah, nah, I can drive you… You’re tired, trust-“ He cuts in, putting a small smile on your face at how tired this dude was. Jesus, you really should remember these two’s names by now.
“You’re gonna fall asleep behind the wheel.” She retorts, grabbing under his arms with one of hers and hoisting him up as you follow, “I’d rather walk alone in Gotham than crash tonight.”
She looks back as you lead them out the door,
“We’re parked a block away. You need a ride home?”
You decline, mostly because you planned to go back to the rave to say bye to your friend beforehand and to make sure all your stuff is in their car before you go home yourself.
“Get home safe, alright? You have my number, just let us know. It was great meeting you dude!” The guy says, grabbing your hand and forcing you into a chest bump. The girl gives you a side hug before dragging her boyfriend away, mimicking his sentiment. Nice couple, but the eyes you felt earlier never fucking left.
You sigh as you head over to the corner by the man smoking. Sometimes you feel like you cosplay as an extrovert, being a bit more reserved and keeping to yourself in your mind, but being too tired from overthinking constantly to care if someone judges you for speaking to them.
“Hey, sorry to bother you–You got a lighter?” You mutter, grabbing the box you had in your pocket before realizing it’s empty and grumbling. The high of the night was wearing off fast, and you knew you were about to be an ass to everyone who wasn’t your pet at home tonight.
The man beside you pauses. He's tall, definitely built with a hood shadowing a good amount of his scarred face, although it’s visible nonetheless. He had some cargos on, and probably the type of guy you’d text your friends saying: “Holy shit, I just saw someone who doesn’t look real” and try to describe him without sounding pathetic.
Green ass eyes too, Jesus.
But then again, you’re too tired to care or think about deeply right now.
He grabs his own box of cigarettes from his front pocket, holding it out to you.
“Here.” He says softly, his hands shaking a bit. You spot the scars on his fingers which makes you think that perhaps he’s some really impressive construction worker. Or that he runs an underground fighting ring.
Or maybe you’re placing the cigarette in between your fingers and thinking too deeply about this stranger as he gently brought his lighter to the end of your cigarette, but it’s then you realize the eyes that you’ve been feeling since the diner have moved to your lips.
Your intuition tells you it’s safe for now, but the realization has hit who’s been eyeing you now, so it’s better to have that guard up than never.
You sit down at the curb, popping in one of your headphones as you start taking hits from the cigarette. You swore he was like a goddamn ninja with how silent he is, you didn’t notice that he had also sat beside you.
He seems kind of weird. It’s okay though. You’re weird too.
“…Why’s there so many people dressed like that tonight?”
He asks after a beat, the smoke he blew out dissipating in the night air as he turns his head to face you.
You stare at the pigeon in front of you which was fighting some rat for a piece of toast that most likely fell out of someone's takeout,
“Rave happening a few blocks that way.” You point towards the direction, shrugging.
“That part of Gotham is just some old warehouses though? When has it been a venue?”
You chuckle a bit at his question, yet his words don’t go ignored. He perked up a bit when he said warehouse. Maybe you’re imagining it, but he seems a little nosy anyhow.
“Not officially. What? Are you gonna report it?” You smiled, taking another drag as he thinks about his next response,
“No- I… I was just curious.” He says, his eyes having averted from your face to also watch the semi interesting pigeon vs rat fight.
You take a moment to exhale, before looking back at him,
“Wanna come?”
“What?”
“Wanna check it out?”
“Oh, I don’t do that type of stuff-“
“Don’t have to get in the crowd or anything.” You reassured, checking your phone for a moment before continuing, “It’s almost time for the last set, so a good amount of people should have left. I want to make sure my friend put my piercing setup in her car.”
He pauses, tilting his head at you,
“Just if you want to see what it’s like.” You muse as you get up, finishing the cigarette before stomping it out on the curb.
There’s hesitation in his eyes, unsure whether or not to trust you. But he gets up after watching you walk away and begins to catch up, matching your pace.
“So, uh... you pierce?” He asks, almost tripping over himself. Jesus, you don’t think he’s an introvert, but he’s definitely out of his element right now.
“Yeah. Professionally obviously, but I’ve been doing it since I was sixteen so I don’t mind it at the raves. Lot safer in my opinion to just come to the parlor though.”
“Aren’t people, well… not all that sober?”
You shrug,
“I tell them to stay sober the whole night, usually ask if they have a friend with them to make sure. I mean, if you’re getting a piercing, you better not act stupid. Your face is in pain. Usually they just sit on the side with some friends after. It’s a nice community. It’s more of a favor to a friend, it’s why I closed up early. Now that I do it for work, I’m kind of annoyed that I was so unsafe with it.”
He lets out a small “oh.” as you lead him inside. The guy at the front recognizes you, not minding as you walk in. It’s NOTAFLOF anyways. There’s still a good crowd, and that familiar smell has yet to leave. You grab his hand, something he tenses up at slightly before following you as y’all weave through people.
You don’t have to think about it, but God, if it wasn’t your adrenaline blocking your inhibitions, you would’ve been shocked you even had the balls to talk to this guy.
You find someone’s booth, asking for your friend before being pointed in their direction.
The man stays beside you, looking around a bit as you weed out your friend. You eventually find them and now borrowing the keys, the two of you head to the car parked right outside and you let go of his hand to open the trunk to check if everything is in there.
He lets out a sigh behind you as you’re doing mental inventory.
“That’s…I didn’t think so many people would be there.”
You glance at him for a moment before going back,
“Yeah? How do you feel about it?”
“You’re cool.”
You pause, raising an eyebrow as you begin to stare back at him. His hood was off now, revealing a wavy black head of hair with large tufts of white on his bangs. He looks so badass, all the anxiety you’ve been suppressing came to you in an instant.
You try to disagree almost, reminding him you met him at a max of 20 minutes ago, unsure how to react, but he tilts his head at you, interrupting whatever sentiment you had,
“Can you pierce me?”
Okay, what the hell is wrong with him?
You ask him if he’s sure, not to just rush into a piercing, but he leans closer, almost trapping you in the trunk of your friends car as his arms are now placed on either side of you,
“I think you’re cool. And I’ve wanted an eyebrow piercing for a bit. Would you mind?”
Your right eye twitches a little. This guy has to be crazy.
“I do mind. How about you go to a professional?” You mutter, looking everywhere but that face.
“You’re a professional.”
“Yeah but like, an actual shop?” You try to insist, your eyes landing on the biceps, mind screaming to tear your eyes off them, but for the most stupid of reasons, you can’t. What can this dude lift? And why’s he suddenly acting confident?
“Too busy in the day. First night I’ve had off in a while.”
“Well, would you be able to even make sure it heals properly?” You grumble, his cologne smelling like vanilla with hints of the constant weed smell Gotham holds. You’ve at least gotten your eyes to look straight behind him, making your heart rate go from furious to just pretty fucking fast.
“Promise.” He whispers softly, his eyes trained on your lips.
You’re unsure why you agreed. Maybe because a handsome guy practically begged you for a piercing. And maybe because you both haven’t exchanged names even, it’s less personal.
You want to assume he’s just trying to get your number.
He’s bad at it.
And y’know what? it’s not your problem if he’s rushing into a piercing he doesn’t actually want.
Putting on your gloves, you disinfect everything you can, trying not to stare at his unnaturally long lashes. Never understood how so many dudes can have that.
You could notice his hands shaking slightly, gripping the edge of the trunk as your equipment touched his eyebrow.
“Take deep breaths. Want me to count?”
“You can just do it.” He whispers. Doesn’t need to whisper but he’s getting a free piercing so whatever.
He somewhat flinched when the puncture first happened, but his face remained still. Trooper. Once the jewelry went in, you cleaned off what you could, leaning over him to grab a small bag with some cotton pads and a small saline spray you give to most people, his hands landing on your hips for a moment before he pulled them away panicked.
You give him a small smile at that as you hand him the bag,
“You good?”
“Yeah just-didn’t expect it to not hurt as much as I thought it would.”
You nod, trying to give some small talk as you clean up and close up your friend’s trunk, but he was so focused on staring at you, you don’t think he had it in him to even pay attention. Thank God he didn’t bleed, you’d feel real bad cleaning that up in your friend’s car.
“What’re you doing after this?” He asks, grabbing your wrist as you were about to head inside to return your friend’s keys.
You honestly couldn’t tell him. You didn’t want to end the night, but you didn’t really know what else to do.
It’s how you ended up in some abandoned factory by some shipyards. Graffiti painted against every surface caught your eyes in the dimly lit space as the man, who you learned was named Jason, was helping you climb some of the higher parts of the walls. You were afraid something would snag on his new piercing, but then he’d stupidly grab you and hoist you up onto a wall as he’d climb it, the action itself making you too nervous to remember your worries.
“C’mon, I know a great view of Gotham.” He’d chuckle as you walked along a connecting bridge to the next worn-down building, looking ready to collapse at any moment. You can’t deny the view of the Gotham night was incredible, though.
The lights, the faint view of all the places you can recognize, the constant honking of cars, and the sound of another criminal screaming “The goddamn bats!” barely audible, like a mouse’s squeak almost.
You try to tell him you can carry yourself, that you’re not someone to take care of, but he just shrugged, giving you a smile as he’d hold your hand while climbing up the graffiti covered stairs in the next building until you both reached the roof.
Jesus. You felt like Superman with how you could touch the night sky.
“You need to come here more often. Can’t believe I’m the first person to take you up here.” He smiled, standing behind you with one hand on your shoulder and the other holding your chin up to stare at the night sky.
You swat the hand on your chin away, earning him a small laugh out of him, although you can feel the hand on your shoulder shake again.
It’s stupid how nervous you were making this man, but you grab the hand you swatted, to hold it in yours, something to calm him. You felt stupid for trying to hide you were just as anxious.
It’s like he can’t tell when to be nervous around you and when to make a move. Indecisive; uneasy, but still willing to try. You can appreciate that.
It’s when his hands let go and moved to play with the hem of your top, like he’s unsure of what to do now, that you turned to face him,
You ask him if he plans to push you off, half jokingly, and the nervous side of him is back, shaking his head no. He’s almost upset he gave you that idea before you grab his right hand, squeezing it to calm him again, before bringing it to your hips.
So easy to read yet hard to understand.
You sit him down on the ledge, standing in front of him.
His mind is racing, and yours is too. You both grew silent and stared at the other like you were speaking telepathically as you led his other hand to your waist.
After a beat,
“It’s your move.” He murmurs, looking up at you like he’s seeing his dream come to fruition, to which you shake your head no in response.
He brought you up here, so it’s his move, and his move alone. Doesn’t matter if this is a fantasy of yours that becomes reality, and you honestly think if you did make the first move, you’d tackle him and probably lead y'all to your last fall.
His eyes finally tear from your face, giving you a once over, before he leans his head back, your body falling along with him until your lips connect after a moment of shaky breathing — from you or him you can’t tell — . You’re barely hit with the realization both of your heads are hanging off the ledge, your eyes are too afraid to open now as you felt the wind in your hair from hanging off the building. You can hear the sounds of honking cars under you, the neverending chatter of Gotham, and you can feel your heart pounding against his.
Your hands were gripping onto his hoodie for dear life as his hands squeezed your hips, in line with his own heartbeat. Why you weren’t shaking was beyond you, his tongue probably being the only reason you haven’t pulled off and asked him to kiss you in the thousands of normal ways. Standing, sitting down, in your bedroom, by an alley, anything but this.
It was strange how feeling his breathing against your face was keeping you calm enough to not push yourself off, it was strange that the two of you we’re making out with only attraction and 3 hours of proximity to be pulling you two together like this.
His left hand found the back of your neck, gently deepening the connection you found in each other before he stood up straight slowly, pulling you off of him like you were velcro.
Goddamn, he had to pull YOU off HIM when he was the one acting all shy all night?!
The hand on your neck moved to your face, his hands squeezing both your cheeks gently,
“You’re panting. Sorry if I scared you.” He murmured, leaning in for another kiss with you, one you reciprocated back, although begrudgingly for having pulled you off.
His face was flushed, breathing heavy, and he was looking at you like he wasn’t sure if you’d do that with him again. Or want to see him again. He’s a hard read.
You grumbled a bit, moving your own hands off his chest to his waist,
“You should see it from my perspective this time.” You grumble, turning around, pulling him down on top of you as your heads hang over the ledge again. You’d rather fall in the fantasy he made with you than let this end.
