control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader]
aka “i wanna impress my dorky crush bc he’s rly cute and im awkward.”
alright taking off my usual bold for authors notes because i gotta so:
here’s some notes about some shit that’ll be relevant:
squipped!reader has “The SQUIP’s text, which is all in bold only,” but sometimes will have “Regular quotes surrounding it” - which stands for something the SQUIP is making the reader say (but that will always be accompanied by some sort of clarification to avoid confusion, i promise)
there’s also “Regular speech” from the reader, but also “their thoughts directed toward the SQUIP” which are in both bold and italics
there u go.
quick reminder: if anything bothers you, absolutely just come to me and talk to me about it. if i need to fix anything, tag anything, do anything - just tell me.
warning: considering reader is squipped, there’s a bit of abuse from said SQUIP. shocks, manipulation - stuff like that (similar to what jeremy faced in the musical)
Jeremy Heere was in four of your classes. Four. In two of them he sat a few desks in front of you by some random seating order, in one he sat right next to you, and in one he was cross the room. It was bad enough having one class with him, since you’d grow flustered and your palms would get sweaty and you would immediately become tongue-tied the moment you had to say anything to him - but four classes? Someone was out to get you, and you were pretty positive about it. It was pretty difficult to not glance his way in hopes that maybe he was looking at you during math - where he sat right next to you and sometimes asked if he could borrow your calculator because wow he forgot it again and you either stuttered out your apology or shove it in his direction and pray you knew how to do math good enough with a calculator. In english he sat desks away, and sometimes would whisper shit to Michael Mell and sometimes he’d get detention for it, and you heard him in chemistry talk about Christine Canigula a few times to Michael whenever they were away from prying ears - and you never intended on listening, it just sort if happened but you refused to say anything to anyone because wow what a creep listening to other people’s conversations wow.
So you kept your head down and prayed that maybe you could work up the courage to talk to Jeremy - or maybe Michael, because maybe if you talked to Michael you could talk to Jeremy and it wouldn’t be so awkward right, because then you’d know Michael and Michael wouldn’t be a third wheel or something - not that he’d ever be a third wheel because you and Jeremy were just a dream and it would never happen, even if you kinda wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms sometimes but that was just thoughts that happened sometimes and only sometimes and you totally didn’t miss a couple of notes in your history class because you were thinking about Jeremy and how he was kind of cute because he fell asleep.
Fuck, you were kind of creepy weren’t you. Sixteen years old and a complete weirdo, yep, totally - no wonder Jeremy never really talked to you. You picked at your nails and you retreated into oversized shirts and into your hoodies and pretended that you weren’t there because school is hell. Hell, you were used to not really being the cool, popular kid - you’d always been a bit of a loner, really, and luckily enough, rumors didn’t really fly about you and you weren’t even a blip on the radar. Meanwhile, Jeremy was… different. He was a bit of a geek and kind of tall so he stood out a bit more than you tended to.
You weren’t complaining. You saw the shit people gave Jeremy - a certain short bully calling him ‘tall-ass’ for one - and you wished you could find it in you to stand up and tell them all to fuck off. But you weren’t a blip on the radar. You were unseen and you didn’t have much of a problem with it, so you kept your mouth shut and let the regrets stew in your mind.