Dude, You Are Cooler Than A Vintage Cassette (Be More Chill x Reader Oneshots)

Getting Stoned In My Basement (Michael x Reader)

Disclaimer: I live in fucking suburbia. Getting run over by a car would be kind of exciting here. The closest I've ever been to any kind of pot is touching a Japanese maple and joking about what it looks like. I'm a privileged little depressed brat who has no experience with this shit and who's heard about weed being laced with lethal shit like fentanyl and walrus tranquilizer. Please don't do drugs, guys, and if you do be safe about it...

This is basically a follow-up to Link Broke Down The Door To The Bathroom because apparently when it comes to BMC characters, I have no self-control, and especially not with Michael.

look at the picture. "want me to kill him for you?"

WANT ME TO KILL HIM FOR YOU?

look JD i love you and all but you need to [be more] chill out

warning: drug usage (cause michael smokes the *looks at smudged writing on hand* marriage iguana), dick moves in Mario Kart, half-assed sequel to something i really fucking enjoyed writing, oh yeah and there's cussing i guess

also i don't make an actual appearance but you should know that jeremy goes upstairs and he 'n' i are playing D&D because we both need to practice to impress our friends and i have this headcanon that he's a shitty dungeon master

Hope you like it!

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You stood in front of the door, finger hovering over the doorbell.

You could always tell Michael you weren't okay with his drug... activities.

But you hadn't seen him in a while, and if you canceled on him then that was just one more week or so until you could see him again.

And you needed to see him again.

Maybe it was your brain trying to justify your immediate attraction to the guy, maybe you just enjoyed his company. Whichever was true, it didn't make your fears go away.

Michael invited you to smoke weed in his basement.

Michael invited you to participate in the usage of illicit and illegal substances.

What were you waiting for? You could get arrested. This was a crime.

In New Jersey, at least.

But it was still where you lived.

You took a deep breath and pushed the button.

All you were greeted with was silence, so you turned on your heel-

The door swung open.

"Oh. Hey..." The tall boy with brown curls who you assumed was Jeremy trailed off. He scrunched up his nose in confusion. "Sorry, do I, um, do I know you?"

You shook your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Nah, Michael invited me." Offering a small smile, you extended a hand. "I'm (Y/n). You're Jeremy, right?" He nodded a little, giving you the most awkward handshake you'd ever been forced to be a part of. While you were occupied with this embarrassing exchange, the hint of recognition in his eyes didn't escape you. "If this isn't a good time, then I can leave-"

"Hey, Michael, did you invite someone over?" He interrupted, yelling to his left down a staircase. Jeremy turned in your direction and stage-whispered, "Michael's pretty high, if you want to get out of here, now's your chance."

"Oh, yeah, is that (Y/n)?" A vaguely familiar but barely recognizable voice shouted, language slurred.

"Shit, you weren't kidding," you muttered. Stepping inside, you cupped your hands around your mouth and shouted, "Yeah, it's me!"