Be More Chill [One-shots]

Tattoo Lover [M. M.×Reader]

You were seventeen years old and you just got your first tattoo. After being in Video games Hell for your whole life, you thought it was about time you got a tattoo of the game that made you what you are. A Player. You looked at your forearm proudly, checking the Pac-Man tattoo that was finally healed. It didn't hurt when you accidentally touched or brushed it plus it wasn't all red anymore.

And as shocking as this might sound you belonged with the popular kids of Middle Borough High school. So, for your first day at school with a tattoo, you decided to wear a long-sleeved T-shirt. Before wandering out of your house, you checked yourself in the mirror.

Just as you expected, school didn't burn down over the weekend. What a pity, you thought. You propped your sunglasses on your head and looked around for your friends. Honestly, being a short person was useless in school. You couldn't see shit over other people's moving bodies.
You squinted to see a piece of red clothing somewhere in the crowd. Must be Jake, you thought. Or Rich with Jake's jacket. You snorted at the thought. But you made your way there.

As you walked, a few kids greeted you - and you politely nodded back, now concentrating on your mission to ambush your friend(s) in red jacket. You couldn't wait to tell them about your tattoo - you were very sneaky the last few weeks when hiding the unhealed forearm with the piece of art. You knew they'd not judge you. Well, you hoped. They could be pretty sceptical.

"Yo! SHITS! Check this out!" You launched yourself at the back of the person dressed in red as if you were a bull going after the red cape. You caught yourself on their back, skillfully wrapping arms around their neck while your legs went around their waist.

The person you attempted to tackle stumbled forwards. You heard a muffled 'Fuck!'
It was THEN when you realized the person next to you wasn't Rich. And the person you were clinging on wasn't Jake.

The poor victim toppled over, pulling you both on the cold school floor. You let out a pained moan when you rolled off of the male. Another groan was audible just under your feet.

The second person leant down next to your victim and put a hand on his friend. You recognized that to be Jeremy Heere. That super quiet boy from your History class. That awkward kid - 'creeper' as your friends called him.

"Hey, Michael, you alright?" Jeremy asked, concerned.

You moved your legs from the boy's back and knelt next to him. Jeremy looked at you, obviously getting uncomfortable when he recognized you. The Cool kid. The kid who talks to his bullies on daily basis. Jeremy became slightly sweaty. And you felt like that's because of you.

"I am so sorry," you looked at Jeremy who was helping Michael to sit up and was looking for some external bleeding. A quick thought of 'Boyf-Riends' ran through your head. Oh yeah, you'd heard about this rumor, too...

"It's okay," it was the first time Michael spoke since you tackled him. "Just didn't expect that!" the boy in red hoodie chuckled and you gave him a smile.

"No, but for reals, I mistook you for someone, I am sorry," you apologized. "I thought I saw Jake," you started but Michael stopped you.

"No need to continue," he smiled at you, but you didn't know it disappointed him a tiny bit that someone wasn't looking for him but he was MISTAKEN for other person. The two boys exchanged looks of understanding. All of you stood up, you and Michael dusting yourselves off a little.

You, feeling guilty and wanting to make it up for the boys, rubbed your arms: "Aren't you two, like... fans of games 'n' slushies?" you tried with some hope. Oh well, forget the hope. You saw them in the 7/11 just the other day talking about some 2 Player Game.