Can i request a Hannah Baker Imagine where the reader is a artist and has a crush on her so the reader decides to confess their feelings by drawing a picture of Hannah
cute request, anon, I had a lot of fun with this! I’ll see what I can do ~
685 words, Hannah Baker/reader
“Nice ass, girl!” Came a chorus of teenaged boys, all yelling the same thing at the same, unfortunate victim. Hannah Baker, voted best ass on a dumb list. Now she’s getting all the shit for it. Your stomach churned, wanting so badly to run over there and hug her as you saw her face quickly twist into the face of someone about to cry.
You snatched a sketch pad and your pouch of drawing pencils before storming off to the usually desolate art room during your free period. You felt terrible for not sticking up for her, or at least telling them to fuck off away from her, and you had no idea why you didn’t… wouldn’t you stick up for the girl you liked?
Anger still abundant in you, the heavy door of the art room was flung open with ease when you flew in. Completely ignoring the boy at one of the work tables across from where you were setting up to work.
“Hey, thunder-face.” came the voice behind you. You recognised it as Clay’s, the only other person that knew about your crush on Hannah.
“I’ve got good reason for it, too,” you defended the expression on your face.
“Don’t I know it,” Clay let you get back. to your artwork, not wanting to invoke any ranting from you.
You’d had artists block for weeks and weeks, until the other night, when you realised you had the perfect thing to paint, Hannah. It was how you were going to confess your feelings, by sliding it into her locker when she wasn’t there. Tyler had provided some candids for you to base your work off of, not even asking why you’d asked for every close up of her.
You still had no idea where to begin, so stood with your pencil poised above the paper until you got the initiative to just sketch. By the end of the period, you’d produced an outline of her face, basic boundaries for hair, and a few features of her face. You really didn’t want to waste anytime in getting this done for her - being so sick of just admiring her from across the halls, or staring at her in class (not once getting caught).
You carried on sketching secretly through some classes, careful to flip your sketchbook shut if the teacher shot a glance in your area of the classroom. You brought it home, working through the night to get the perfect drawing for the perfect girl, painting some of it even. You started thinking up what you could write on it, a witty way of asking her out. From what you’d heard of her speaking, she was good with her words and could appreciate wit and humor.
The next day at school, during your free period - which was luckily first - you finished it, Clay watching you paint all the waves in her hair and the carefully paint the detail in her eyes, it looking a bit like something that had come from the depths of the universe. Between being proud of your work, and a little encouragement from Clay, you were bursting to give it to Hannah; desperate to see her reaction.
“I can’t do this Cla-”
“Of course you can, y/n, just put it through the side and walk away,” so you did just that, walking a little ways away to your own locker, waiting for her to walk right up to her locker and swing it open. The piece of paper fell to the floor, catching her attention away from the boys who were yet again assaulting her about her body. Bending down to unfold it and look over it, a small smile creeping over her lovely face. She, still crouched on the ground, looked all around the hallway, rising up off her haunches when she caught sight of you. You, a complete blushing, shaking mess.
She smirked, making a phone with her little finger and thumb and putting it to her ear, mouthing ‘call me!’ at you before turning and walking away, hands still clutching your painting.