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The Angel Nextdoor

Pairing: Artist!Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: This is the first Tom fic I’ve ever posted and I’m a little nervous, but I’m really proud of it. I hope you guys really like it, I’d love to hear your feedback. Now, this is my Valentine’s day special, and I know what you’re thinking, “Ashley, how can you post a Valentine’s say special on February 15th? It doesn’t make any sense.”. But to that I say, you’ve just never seen this kind of innovation, I’m an artist and I have to take risks like this sometimes. I hope you can understand, love you all xx

Summary: Tom’s latest assignment might just give him the push he needs to finally confess his feelings.

Masterlist

Promt list

“This is the handout for your final, we’re going to talk about it more next class, but for now just look this over and start brainstorming,” Ms. Miller passed a stack of papers down the row with a smile, “You’ll have a full month to work on it so I expect really polished pieces for this.”

Tom glanced over the requirements before settling at the prompt.

‘Paint someone close to you (friend, family member, significant other, ect…) in the style of their favorite artist or painting.’

It seemed simple enough, and he could think of a handful of people to ask. Definitely not family, he didn’t want to travel home and back that frequently. He could ask Harrison, and he was sure he would say yes, but there was one person who really stuck out in his mind. It was (y/n) of course, who better to paint than the most beautiful person in the world? And could anyone really expect an artist like him not to want to paint the object of her affection? Of course actually doing it was a different story. Asking her to let him paint her was a daunting task, one Tom was sure he couldn’t complete. So he was going to paint Harrison.

“Try to come to class with a narrowed down list of who you may end up painting, you’ll need to know for sure by Friday,” Ms. Miller sighed as the class began packing up, “I’ll see you all on Wednesday.”

Tom shoved everything in his bag and went straight for the dinning hall, where he was supposed to meet Harrison and (y/n) for lunch. He debated again trying to ask her, but quickly shoved the thought from his mind. She had inspired his work before certainly, it was inevitable that she’d inspire him, or her image would wander to his mind when he was working, but he had never painted her. Of course he wanted to paint her directly, but it was intimate, it always felt wrong to do without her permission. Just asking to paint her surely would have revealed his feelings too, something he wanted to do on his own terms, when he was ready, with concrete proof that she liked him back and he wouldn’t embarrass himself.

“That’s not a happy face,” Harrison hummed as Tom sat down in front of him, “Bad grade or something?”

“No, we just got our final already,” he sighed, letting his bag fall besides him.

“Already?”

He nodded, “Yeah, she wants it to be really polished.”

“Does it seem really hard?”

“It’s nothing I can’t do, I’m gonna need your help though.”

“I’m sorry, you’ve seen me paint before right?”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Obviously not with that. I’m just supposed to paint someone close to me and I don’t want to drive home every other day so I was gonna ask if I could paint you.”

Harrison knit his brow in confusion, “Why wouldn’t you ask (y/n)?”

Tom flushed, “Absolutely not.”

“Why not? You two would get to spend a lot of time together, alone. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yes, and I’d like to paint her, but it’s so intimate. I want to be the one to tell her I like her, not a painting. Plus she could say no and then I’d never be able to show my face in public again.”

“There is no way she would say no,” Harrison rolled her eyes, “Just ask her, she’d be happy to help and you might just finally see that she’s into you. Then I can stop watching you two pine over one another.”

“No, just drop it,” Tom ordered, spotting (y/n) approaching their table, “Don’t say anything to her.”

“Hey boys,” she smiled as she sat besides Tom, “How were classes?”

“Mine were fine, Tom’s already getting his finals though.”

Tom shot him a glare while she sighed, “That’s brutal, I’m sorry Tom.”

“I’ll survive,” he hummed, “It’s not anything too rough.”

“What is it?” she asked curiously.

“Just painting someone I know,” his cheeks dusted pink, “Nothing too hard.”

“Too bad I can’t help you out with it more,” Harrison bit his cheek, “Maybe (y/n) could pose for you.”

Tom decided he’d have to push Harrison out their dorm window when they got home.

“Oh yeah, I don’t mind,” she smiled kindly to him.

“It’s okay, it’s probably going to take me awhile and I know you’re busy, I can just ask one of my brothers,” he insisted.

“And drive home every other day? That’s ridiculous, I’ll just do it.”

Tom sucked in a deep breath, trying to decide quickly what the right decision to make was. But he was a painter, he couldn’t give up the chance to paint something so perfect in good conscience, and he didn’t really want to say no either.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” he smiled to her.

“No problem. So what do I need to do?”

“I’m supposed to paint you in the style of your favorite artist, or painting.”

“Well…” she tapped her lip thoughtfully, “Oh, they guy that painted those little cupids, and he did that Birth of Venus you showed me with all the cupids in it, I really liked his stuff. What was his name again?”

“William-Adolphe Bouguereau,” Tom pursed his lips, “I could do that, it’s not too far off from what I like to do anyway.”

“Cool, I guess I should start practicing my poses then?”

He chuckled, “No, we’ll just do something comfortable for you,” he bit the inside of his cheek, “There’s a bit of planning to do first, like what you’re gonna wear and the colors I’m gonna use, and sketching, I’ll just need a few days.”

“Well why don’t you come over and we can raid my closet? Maybe I can help with some of the other stuff too.”

Harrison was smiling like a proud dad when Tom glanced over at him, “Um, yeah, that would be good, I could come over after class Wednesday?”

“It’s a date.”

“I laid out some clothes already,” (y/n) smiled to Tom as she led him to her room, “I mean you’ll know better than me, but I tried to pick some things I thought would paint well.”

“Thanks, I was thinking something really simple would be best,” he began examining the clothes on her bed, smiling when he spotted the same white, babydoll dress she liked to wear whenever it got hot, “How about this one? It has that sort of angelic feel.”

She picked up the dress and held it against her, “It’s the comfiest too.”

He laughed, “Well that one for sure then. Next would be location, and I know you really like L'Amour et Psyché, enfants, so I thought it would be nice to have you sitting on a cloud to reference that.”

“Whatever you think is best Tom, you’re the artist,” she hummed, “I think that sounds nice though.”

“I think we’ll do that then. Do you want to toss the dress on so we can run through some poses?”

She nodded and Tom stepped outside, allowing her a moment to change. He’d thought about the painting all night, sketching out different poses and swatching colors he wanted to try. The anger he’d felt towards Harrison at lunch had faded almost instantly to excitement. He’d hung out with her a million times before, but he usually let his nerves get the best of him if things started getting flirty. Painting always relaxed him though, and he was sure that he would be able to make his feelings known once he was behind the canvas.

Of course, unbeknownst to Tom, her feelings were quite similar. Tom was handsome, of course, and funny and kind, and she got along with him better than anyone else. She had never felt the way she felt for him with anyone else, but flirting was hard. She always got nervous and backed off, there was just too much at risk. She didn’t know if Tom felt the same way, and she didn’t want to risk damaging their relationship by telling him she was into him. Of course she was happy just to help Tom for the class, but she thought it was a good chance to tread the waters.

“Ready,” (y/n) smiled as she left her room, “Where do you want me boss?”

“The couch is fine,” he was holding his sketchbook now, holding it firm against his chest, “If you could sit kind of sideways and put your arms on the back of the couch.”

She sat as he told her, glancing over her shoulder at him, “Like this?”

“That’s really nice, very reminiscent of the original…” he glanced down at his sketchbook, “Are you comfortable?”

“It’s a little awkward,” she admitted.

“Then it’s a no. How about with your hands in front of you, just resting.”

“This is better,” she smiled as she switched positions, “But if you want me the other way I don’t mind.”

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he assured before glancing back at the sketchbook, “Why don’t you try on your stomach, with your arms under your head.”

She giggled as she moved, kicking her legs like a child, “This is like the fifth grade slumber party position. I feel like we’re gonna play truth or dare.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re never going to break into the modeling industry if you mess around like that.”

“You’re lucky I’m not a model or I’d be charging,” she stuck her tongue out before laying her head on her hands, “Is this right?”

“Almost, just cross your arms like this,” he set her arms in the position he wanted before stepping away again, “Are you comfy like that?”

“Yeah, I could sleep like this.”

“Good, there’s just one other pose I wanted to try. Could you roll over?”

She flipped to her back and set her hands over her stomach, “Do I look like an angel now?”

“Almost,” he moved one of his arms, extending it above her head and leaving the other over her stomach, “Perfect,” he declared, looking her over with a smile, “Very angelic.”

Her cheeks dusted pink and she bit down on her cheek, “Thanks.”

“I think this is the one,” he scribbled a few things in his sketchbook, “What do you think?”

"I could lay here all day."

“Perfect, can you stay there for a few so I can sketch you?”

She nodded, drumming her fingers along her stomach, "Did you get a better explanation of the project today?"

"Yeah, she said our grade is going to be focused on the emotion of the piece since we're painting someone close to us. She wants us to focus on portraying them how we see them."

"How are you gonna portray me then?" she blushed as she questioned him.

"An angel," he spoke without thinking, his cheeks flushing instantly, "Not with wings or anything, just sort of what I'm going for."

She was sure her face was about to catch on fire, "You don't have to do that, I mean I like the angel paintings, but you should portray me how you see me."

"I am, it just happened to fit with what you like," he tried his best to conceal his face behind his sketchbook as he spoke, "You're really sweet, and you always make everyone around you really happy, I think an angel is fitting."

“I think you’re like that,” she met his eyes, just barely peeking over the edge of his sketchbook, “You always make me happy.”

“I’m really glad I do,” he bit the inside of his cheek nervously, “I think I’ve got everything I need for today, I’ll do some thumbnailing tonight and go pick up some supplies.”

“Cool,” she sat back up, twirling some of her hair nervously, “So when do you want to start?”

“You have that essay right? Why don’t we do Saturday? I don’t want to take up a bunch of your time.”

“That’s sweet but I’m gonna procrastinate no matter what,” she giggled, “Saturday is good though, then we’d have all day to work.”

“I’ll be over at ten then,” he closed his sketchbook before shoving is back into his bag, “If you really want to procrastinate you could come to the store with me. I mean I have to make sure I can match your skin and hair and everything…”

“Well sure, but if you want even more of my very valuable time I at least expect you to buy me some tea.”

He laughed, “Fine, fine, we’ll stop for tea.”

Day 1

Tom was surprised by how awake (y/n) was when he arrived, she was never much of a morning person. When he showed up she had brewed some tea for them both and was already wearing the white dress they’d agreed upon. Tom had drawn about a thousand thumbnails before finally deciding on exactly what he wanted the painting to look like. He decided he’d start on it Friday night, figuring it would be good to get most of the background out of the way so he could focus on painting her while they were together. She gushed over how good the painting already looked, telling him they were the most perfect clouds she’d ever seen while he set up his work station. She was always hyping him up, he appreciated it, even though he was nervous to get started.

“You ready?” he asked finally.

She nodded, “Yeah,” she sat down, doing her best to mimic the pose she had earlier in the week, “Am I good?”

Tom nodded, “Perfect.”

“Awesome, I won’t move a muscle.”

He chuckled, “You can move. Just not too much,” he sighed, picking up his palette and taking one more moment to stare at his canvas, “Okay, time to start.”

(y/n) watched him quietly at first, watching the cute way he stuck out his tongue when he concentrated. She had never seen him paint, the occasional sketch sure, but with painting she’d only even seen finished pieces. They were always amazing, but she felt like getting to see the work in progress was something special. Most people never got to meet someone as passionate or as talented as Tom, let alone get to be the subject of their work.

“Do you mind if I draw the curtains?” Tom broke her trance.

“It’s your painting.”

He laughed, “No, I mean open them. Why on earth would I add a window to a painting of you in the sky?”

“I don’t know how your artist brain works, maybe you think clouds have windows,” she laughed in response, “Go ahead, I thought you wouldn’t want the lighting changing all day.”

“Well I’m going to paint the light source where I want it to be,” he explained as he stood, “But I want to make sure I’m painting you how you’d look in more natural light. Maybe angels have windows, but I’m nearly certain they don’t have iridescent light bulbs.”

“You seriously think heaven has fluorescent lighting?”

“I think they use the sun,” he deadpanned, though a smirk tempted the corners of his mouth, “You can turn on the tv or something.”

“That’s okay, I like watching you.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion, “Why? I’m just staring at a canvas.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “It’s something you're passionate about, it’s cute watching you get in the zone.”

“Oh,” he blushed and turned his attention back to his work, “Thanks. I’ll be more talkative once I get a little further along, I just really like to concentrate in the beginning.”

“It’s fine,” she assured again, “I’m not bored Tom, I don’t mind a bit of quiet time.”

“Okay.”

Truthfully he didn’t mind it either, at least when he was with her. He just liked being in the same room together, even if they were just studying or watching a movie, it was nice to just be together.

Day 2

“Would you mind if I came over after class tomorrow?” Tom questioned, breaking (y/n)’s attention from the tv.

“That’s fine by me,” she smiled to him, “It’s not like I usually have plans with anyone else on a Monday afternoon.”

“Yeah, no one else can stand you,” he chuckled while she feigned offense.

“You know I could be charging you for this? I’m doing this for free out of the goodness of my heart.”

“You think I have money? I’m a starving artist darling, free is all I can afford.”

“You better be nice then,” she teased with a smile.

“I’m cooking you lunch aren’t I?” he sighed before setting his paints down, “Speaking of which, I think I’m ready for a lunch break.”

“Me too,” she rubbed her stomach, “Break time?”

He nodded, “Yeah, you still want pasta?”

“You know I do,” she winked as she stood up, stretching her arms up above her head, “Can I peak?”

He nodded, “It still doesn’t look like much, but I’m making good progress.”

She bounced over to the painting, smiling ear to ear as she took in all he had done, “It looks more and more amazing every time I see it. This is amazing Tom, seriously it looks so good already.”

He smiled, blushing at the praise, “Thanks, I think it’s coming along really well.”

Day 3

Tom was making much quicker progress than he had expected, he just found it very easy to find his rhythm every time they sat down to work. Part of it was her, part of it was the subject matter, also her. He was pretty sure all the hours he’d previously spent staring at her had something to do with it too. So far he was proud of his work, though he was sure it wouldn’t have been possible for a painting of her to look bad anyway. When he sat down to paint her he didn’t have to think about it much, just paint, it came very natural. It just felt naturally to immortalize someone like her, but the talking helped the most. Normally he painted alone and he’d wear himself out or hit some kind of wall and be forced to stop, but he hadn’t had that problem since working with her. It was like his hands moved on their own while he just hung out with his best friend. It was just easy...

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you stay so clean when you paint?”

“I figured it out around the same time I stopped fingerpainting.”

She laughed, “Okay well when I try to paint I still get at least some paint on my hands and arms and stuff, you never get paint anywhere.”

“This is the third time you’ve seen me paint, I’ve gotten messy plenty of times but I’m trying really hard not to get paint all over your house.”

“Have you ever painted a girl?” she giggled, “Her body I mean, like gotten naked and painted on each other?”

He flushed suddenly, “No, have you?”

“No, but it would be fun wouldn’t it?”

“It would be cold,” he pursed his lips, he was well hidden by the canvas, so he had a lot more confidence in his ability to be cheeky, “We can take a break if you want to try it out.”

She went quiet for a moment, Tom thought he might have to throw himself out of her window but when he looked at her her cheeks were just as red, and she decided to press on, “What would you paint?”

“Depends where I’m painting.”

She bit her bottom lip, a playful smile overtaking her despite her pink cheeks, “Well I would paint a grid and play tic tac toe on your abs.”

She burst into laughter at her own awful joke and Tom did his best to fight off his own laughter, “That was not funny.”

“Yes it was that’s hilarious!” she kept laughing, clenching her stomach and rolling onto her side, only to find there was no room and roll onto the floor with a thud, “Ow.”

Tom started laughing, “You deserve that for making such a shit joke.”

“Fuck off,” she groaned.

Day 4

“Do you ever get lonely living here all alone?” Tom knit his brow as he tried to perfect her nose.

She nodded, “Sometimes, but I don’t really want a roommate you know? I need a boyfriend or something so I can just call him over when I decide I want someone to spend the night.”

“You could call me,” Tom didn’t dare peek out from behind the canvas after that comment, “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted me to spend the night sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, we could even build a pillow fort and play truth or dare.”

She laughed lightly, “Well who could pass up an offer like that?”

Day 5

Rather than painting the whole night, Tom and (y/n) had decided to get some studying done, putting them at a much later start when they eventually did get to the painting. (y/n) seemed tired, and Tom had told her they could skip the night, especially since he was making such good progress already, but she had insisted she was fine. So they started working, and (y/n) watched tv, half away while Tom started working. The painting was coming along amazing, and Tom had planned to just get some of the more tedious, detailing work done and let her get to bed, but of course once he actually started working it was a different story. He had quickly gotten wrapped up in his work, not stopping until the noise of the tv stopped, the screen flashing to ask if anyone was still watching.

“Sorry, I was just getting in the zone I-” Tom stopped mid sentence, spotting her already passed out on the couch. Her head was tossed to the side and one of her arms hung off the couch. The sight was endearing, but Tom felt bad about not noticing, “Oh dear,” he set his pallet down and stood up, flicking the tv off before approaching her, “Well come on darling, let’s get you to bed,” he nudged her lightly, “(y/n), time to wake up.”

She stirred slightly, a small groan leaving her lips before her eyes peaked open, “Tommy?”

He nodded, a small smile on his lips, “I would have carried you, but you’ve got to lock up behind me.”

She yawned, “Sorry, I’ll stay awake Tom, you can keep working.”

“You’re exhausted sweetheart, you need to get some sleep,” he smiled, setting a hand on her cheek carefully, “I got a lot done today anyway, promise.”

“Okay,” she yawned again before taking his hand, “I’ll help you clean up.”

“I’ll take care of it, why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

She nodded again, pushing herself up sleepily and padding off to her bedroom. Tom smiled to himself while he cleaned up, thinking about how nice it would have been to carry her off and tuck her in, or better yet fall asleep besides her. He could only hope he’d get there one day, if he could ever force out his feelings. It was seeming more and more possible everyday. Just as he’d suspected, hiding behind the canvas had made it much easier to flip the conversation to something flirty, and much to his delight, she didn’t seem to mind, if anything she flirted back.

“Looks good,” (y/n) hummed as she glanced over the painting, “Tomorrow we should be able to start early.”

“Thank you, honestly at this rate I’ll only need a few more days.”

“That’s awesome Tommy, I can’t wait to see it all done.”

“Me too,” he tossed an arm over her shoulder with a smile, “Come see me out.”

“I am, I am,” she smiled as he led her to the door, “Drive safe.”

“I will, get some sleep darling,” he kissed the top of her head before heading for the car.

Day 6

The doorbell made Tom jump, and nearly swipe a black line through one of her eyes, “Fucking hell,” he swore under his breath,

She giggles, “It’s just the pizza Tom,” she jumped off the couch, heading straight for the door, “Which means stop working busy bee we’ve got a pizza to devour!”

He pushed himself up with a sigh, “I’m in the homestretch here, I just need to push through.”

“No, you need to nourish your body and keep your mind sharp,” she winked to him as she opened the door accepting the pizza with a quick thank you.

“Smells delicious,” he plucked the box from her arms, “I think I’ll pretty much finish up tonight, but I’ll want to really polish it tomorrow when I’ve got fresh eyes. And I probably won’t want to stop once I’ve got started so eat and pee before I get here.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute or you wouldn’t get away with bossing people around like that,” she passed him a plate before tossing open the box.

“I know,” he winked to her, dishing them both a slice, “You know I probably only need another hour or so tonight, so we could watch a movie or something while we eat, then I could finish up after.”

A swarm of butterflies fluttered around her stomach, almost making it impossible for her to answer, “That sounds nice Tom, you definitely deserve to relax.”

“We both do,” he grabbed her remote as he fell down on the couch.

“I’ve been laying on the couch, relaxing is currently all I know.”

“Nah, I’m sure it gets tiring sitting there looking pretty all day,” he sucked in a sharp breath when she sat down, pressed right against his side.

“It does,” she nodded in agreement, “Alright, you pick for us alright?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t pay much attention to what he was picking, he was much more concerned with their proximity. They’d watched plenty of movies and tv shows together during their friendship, but they never sat so close. It gave Tom a lot of confidence, since she’d opted to sit besides him, he took it as a sign that his flirting was landing. So after they finished eating he decided he should also initiate something and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Without even thinking she had laid her head on his shoulder, it just felt natural. Tom pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head and turned his attention to the tv.

Day 7

Tom stood up, stepping back a few feet to examine his work. He did it fairly frequently so (y/n) didn’t think anything of it and turned right back to the tv, until Tom spoke.

“It’s perfect, I’m done,” he declared with a small smile.

(y/n) raised a brow, “Seriously?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I have to seal it and everything, but the actual painting is done. I’ll turn it in on Monday.”

“Don’t you have a few more weeks?” she asked as she stood.

He nodded, “I don’t need them, I’m finished, it’s gorgeous, I don’t need to do anything else.”

“Well can I see?”

“Of course!” he grabbed her shoulders, quickly pulling her to face the work, “What do you think?”

She went wide eyed, taken back by how good he’d made her look. It was strange, seeing herself in a painting. It was done well of course, and it looked just like her, but better somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was, maybe the background or the romantic theme of the painting, but she just looked better. She looked like an angel, perched on a bed of pink and blue swirling clouds, reminiscent of the paintings she likes, but distinctly Tom’s work.

“Wow,” she turned to him with a big smile, “Tom it’s incredible, I don’t know how you made me look like that.”

“That’s just what you look like.”

She shook her head, “It’s better somehow, like the perfect version of me or something. You did incredible.”

“No,” he shook his head, “That’s just you, but thank you. I’m really proud of this, I think it’s one of my best.”

She blushed, “Yeah, you’re gonna get a killer grade.”

He hadn’t thought much about the grave, the assignment had taken a back seat to just painting her, “Yeah, I hope so,” he grabbed her upper arms and smiled down at her, “You’re incredible you know that? Thank you so much for doing this for me.”

She bit her lip and nodded, “You don’t have to thank me, I had fun.”

“Me too,” his eyes caught her lips for just a moment, soft and supple and more than kissable, “I, uh, we should do something to celebrate, dinner or something.”

“That would be fun too,” she tucked some hair behind her ear, leaning towards him just slightly.

He found himself leaning in too, but as much as he wanted to kiss her, something just wouldn’t let him. He kissed her forehead and backed away awkwardly, “I, uh, need to pack everything up, I have to get the sealant on pretty quick and I left it at home so…”

The sealant was in his bag, but he felt like running away suddenly, his nerves truly getting the best of him.

Her cheeks burned in embarrassment but she nodded, ‘Y-Yeah, no problem, I’ll help you pack up.”

“Wait so let me get this straight, all this flirting and pining, you chickened out on the kiss?” Harrison’s jaw fell open in disbelief.

Tom nodded, hiding his head against his arms, “Yes, and I nearly died the first time so let's not talk about it now.”

“Dude,” he gaped, “Are you kidding me? All you had to do was pucker up!”

“I know!” Tom groaned, “I know, I don’t even know what happened, I just froze up. I mean what if I misread it? She probably didn’t want me to kiss her, in fact I know she didn’t.”

“You said she leaned in first!”

“I thought she did but I’m stupid! There’s no way she was trying to kiss me.” “It literally could not be more obvious that you two like each other so I don’t want to hear it. You need to just call her up and tell her you froze up and ask her out.”

“I can’t, I will literally drop dead.”

Harrison rolled his eyes, “Then I’ll do it.”

“Dude no! I’m not ten, I can’t send you to ask a girl out for me, that’s a guaranteed no at this point.”

“Then just tell her,” Harrison groaned, “Before I lose it, please.”

Tom was coming to terms with the fact that he was going to die alone by Wednesday morning. It was hard to accept, but easier to accept than almost kissing his dream girl and chickening out, so the choice had been easy. But apparently the universe had other plans for him, as Ms. Miller decided to pull him aside after class.

“I want to talk about your final,” she placed his painting on an easel.

He blushed, “You don’t like it?”

She shook her head, “No, no, Tom this is incredible. I was going to suggest that you enter it into the National Galleries up and coming contest.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded, “Yeah, this is amazing, it would be a shame if the world didn’t see it,” she chuckled lightly, “And I’m sure it would get you some brownie points with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” he spoke softly, pretending to cough to try and hide his words, “Just my friend.”

“You painted just a friend like this?”

He nodded.

“And remind me of the title.”

“The Angel Nextdoor.”

“Do you call all your friends angel?”

“Uh no, just her,” he bit his lip while she raised a brow at him, “She doesn’t know I’m into her.”

Ms. Miller glanced at the painting with a hum, “Has she seen the painting?”

He nodded, “Yeah, she was there the whole time.”

“I think she knows.”

He began to blush again, “Really?”

She nodded, “I could tell just from looking at it that you must really love this girl, I’m sure she can tell too,” she smiled and leaned back on her desk, “Anyways, I just wanted to let you know about the competition, I’ll have your marks soon.”

He nodded, “Thanks, I’ll, uh, think about it.”

He scrambled out of class quickly, wondering if maybe he didn’t have to die alone. Maybe he could confess, and maybe (y/n) who had gushed to him about the painting he’d poured all his love into, would reciprocate. Maybe she had leaned in to try and kiss him, and maybe, just maybe, she really did like him back. Instead of stopping at the dining hall where he was supposed to meet Harrison and (y/n) he paced right past it, towards (y/n)’s class, trying to hype himself up the whole way.

(y/n) had spent the past few days with her mind full of questions. She had leaned in, hoping Tom would get the hint and they would kiss. It seemed to be going that way but then he stopped. Tom had seemed flirty while he was painting her, and she tried her best to show her own interest. He had even held her while they watched a movie, but then he didn’t kiss her. He just kissed her on the forehead and left. She was worried she had misread everything, and almost certain she had. She was anxious about seeing him for the first time since the almost kiss, worried things would be tense or weird. So she was quite worried when she spotted him outside of her class, worried he was about to tell her to never bring up the incident and forget anything happened.

“Hey,” she smiled to him, “What are you doing here?” “I came to talk to you,” he blushed a bit, “Uh, Ms. Miller really likes my painting, she thought I should enter it in this competition for up and comers.”

“Really? Tom that’s awesome, congrats!”

He nodded, “Yeah, thanks, I thought it was really cool too, but she said she thought it was good because she could really see my emotions.”

“Also awesome, you’re gonna ace that class.”

“Okay, but, um…” he trailed off for a minute, unsure of how to force the words out, “The emotion was love, that she saw I mean. She said she could tell I really loved you, a-and I know you know that I do love you, but I love you way more than any of my other friends, and it’s different too… I mean I know I’m like a struggling artist, and that’s not the most desirable thing, and I’m not this perfect, beautiful person like you are, but I do love you, and I love you so much it’s overwhelming sometimes. The best thing I’ve ever painted is you because I love you so much, romantically.”

She stood totally frozen, with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open, making Tom’s heart pound nervously against his chest. He thought he might black out but she moved suddenly, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him hard. Her lips were plump and soft and so much better than he could have imagined. He grabbed her waist, leaning into her with a smile.

“I love you too,” she smiled as she pulled away, “I think you’re perfect and I am totally crazy about you.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded excitedly, “Of course! How could I not? You’re incredibly talented and you're funny and your kind, Tom you’re amazing, of course I am so totally in love with you.”

He smiled and sealed their lips again, “Maybe we could go on a date sometime then?”

She nodded again, “Of course, but I’ve got one condition.”

“Anything.”

“There has to be more kissing.”

He laughed before pecking her lips again, “I think I can handle that.”

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sleepyselkiesiren · 3 years

Text

This is a little art dump of everything I made on my very first day of owning a drawing tablet, in order of creation, plus a bonus

In the first one, I opened up krita and instantly saw all the different kind of brushes and got super excited and carried away XD no thoughts, just fun experimentation

Second one is where the thoughts begin. I was still adjusting to the artwork happening in front of my face instead of under my hands, so I started off simple and silly. I tried to focus more on the Feel than anything else

By the third one I was getting antsy and wanted to get back to my usual quality of work, so I tried to sketch my Generic Girl Character tm. Immediately realised this was extremely heccin Difficult. I would not learn what a stabiliser was for another month or so. I also realised that the number of brushes was truly overwhelming, and now that I wasn’t limited by colored pencils I had no idea what kind of Quality I wanted my art to have

The only thing I remember about the fourth one was being frustrated that I could only draw a face, and whenever I tried to get to the body the lines just wouldn’t go where I wanted them to. It was physically impossible for my brain and hands to do so much as general arm line. I assume this is the one where I discovered the color wheel and unlocked my obsession with the bubble brush. Other than that... idk what was going on XD

For the fifth one I accidentally discovered layers and didn’t know what to do with that information. I also realised that the fill-in-tool was nothing like the MS paint version of my youth. We remain bitter enemies to this day. At this point I was super overwhelmed and frustrated, so I drew my little calm-down guy and his bee friend.

Piece number 6 is the culmination of all my learnings; brushes I liked, what face and hair I could draw, multiple options from the color wheel, and accepting I wasn’t at a skill level to draw bodies yet. The color wheel was too much Choice for me so I just threw on Whatever. It was last time I would ever try using the fill-in tool. I named this guy Jeffery. I don’t think that’s how you spell it XD

Number 7 was me trying to sort out how layers worked. It took me a weirdly long time to work out how to move layers around and which ones went on top of the other. My adhd brain still refused to focus on any tutorials, but I worked it out in the end.

The fish-like guy is titled “I don’t know what this is.” I have no memory of drawing this. I only know that I’d had the tablet for a while by that point. Send help.

I must’ve been a really fast learner, because I did these that same day and I’m still proud of them

#actually put my thoughts in the post and not the tag for once XD #no one was supposed to see these #but I am a memory hoarder and I need somewhere to keep it all #I will never be able to progress in talent as much as I did that first day #straight up just opened up the tablet #downloaded krita #and plugged away at it the entire day until I was satisfied #and then a week later I did the EBony and Muriel in the rain #sleepyselkiesiren art #I had more to say but I got a phone call while making this and now my braincell i lost

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nxrthmizu · 4 years

Text

| the detective and the blue-eyed fox | ch.5

»»——⍟——««

title | all her fault

pairing | Damian Wayne x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

warnings | mentions of death, death, but nothing explicitly described

words | 3.1k

author’s note | im emotionally invested in this series, i have ch.6 and ch.7 planned out too :3 prepare yourself for more twists and (maybe) a major death :))) also this wasn’t proof-read,,, lmk if there are any mistakes! enjoy :3

»»——⍟——««

| beginning | previous part | ao3 |

»»——⍟——««

Three walls of cement and one wall of two-inch glass. Gabriel Agreste faced the four blank slates of his confinement everyday for three months, pondering on how he was going to endure the remaining of his days in his dreary ‘home’. They wouldn’t even provide him with paper to create some sketches on- (What were they afraid of? Paper butterflies? He was powerless without his miraculous).

“So, what business do we have today, Ms. Rossi?” He asked smoothly, business-like as ever despite not being able to remember the last time he had a conversation. Three months of complete isolation- The guards wouldn’t even spare him a single word, and to be fair, he couldn’t blame them.

“Did you hear about Adrien?”

Being straightforward when she wanted to be was one of Lila’s strong traits. Her words were driven to the point, cleared from the lies that typically shrouded them. A borderline sadistic smile traced her vermilion lips when a spark of curiosity glimmered in the man’s eyes- Oh, she was going to enjoy being the bearer of the staggering news.

“What about Adrien?” She could tell- He was expecting something perhaps along the lines of his son screwing up the company he inherited, or perhaps his son making a public statement about-

“He’s dead.”

Gabriel froze from where he was seated on the cement block they provided him with, red draining from his already-pale skin and his bloodshot eyes. “What?” His voice was but a hoarse whisper, a denial, a beg, a plea for the woman to laugh and tell him that it was all some cruel joke.

“He was murdered.” Oh, how she enjoyed seeing the anguish dawn into his eyes. The pain seeped into his body like a parasite, leeching away any will of survival the man had left. “Two weeks ago.”

If getting stripped of his miraculous and being arrested was the sky crashing upon the world he tried so hard to bring his wife back into, then the revelation of his son’s death would be the universe collapsing into itself, becoming a black hole that self destructed from the very core of Gabriel Agreste’s heart.

“Felix Graham de Vanily is combining the Agreste and the Vanily companies with a horizontal merger,” Lila continued, enjoying the acidic pain that burned through the heartless man’s soul. “Oh, and did I tell you? From the day Adrien died, Chat Noir stopped patrolling the city.”

The rush of ‘What if he was murdered because I was Hawkmoth?’ and ‘There are no more Agrestes left...’ smashed into him like water reaching the bottom of the waterfall. There was no mercy behind the strong wave of despair; no mercy behind Lila Rossi’s cold eyes and satisfied smile; no mercy that the world had left for him as a punishment for all his crimes.

“I think I might know who killed him, but I need you to be honest with me,” Lila said softly, enjoying the view of the man’s bowed head. The swollen red of his teary eyes made something inside her heart stir, and it wasn’t sympathy. No, not at all. Her heart swelled with a triumphant laugh, a satisfaction that can only be achieved through the means of revenge. “What happened to the peacock miraculous?”

»»——⍟——««

[Paris, three months ago]

In the midst of destruction you could easily find pain, agony, and despair, because wherever you looked, there was someone who had no time to mourn, but still mourned nonetheless. Ladybug had lost count of how many Paris lost after the hundredth- And the count was only increasing exponentially by every passing second. The former city of love was doing its’ best impression of a society undergoing an apocalypse- In fact, it was a society undergoing an apocalypse.

Exhaustion clawed at Paris’s heroine like a monster that wanted to be released from its’ cage. It tore at her without pause, releasing soreness into her muscles and weariness into her mentality. How much longer did she had to fight? How much longer until she couldn’t go on anymore? How much longer until Paris would fall into the hands of the man who could only focus on what he wanted?

And what would happen to Paris if she couldn’t stand any longer to defend it?

Smoke painted every inch and corner of the skyline in an abstract painting, which would’ve been beautiful if it wasn’t because of the direness of the situation. The clouds were stained a dirty red and firetrucks wailed in the distance, too little of them to keep up with the demand of damage control. Screams echoed across the city, a painful reminder to the heroine of how many lives she had let down. Nothing pained the heroine more than the fact she had been trusted with so many and ended up failing just as many.

A little distance away, shrouded under the same red sky that Ladybug stood under, was the Le Grand Paris. A section of the grand hotel had caved in, leaving the top half of the building in ruins. The golden embellishments of the hotel were caked in dust, the grandeur of Paris’s greatest hotel submitting to the chaos and destruction around it.

“Come on! Get in here! Hurry up!”

Chloe couldn’t believe her eyes.

There stood Mayor Bourgeois, urgently yelling out orders for as many people as possible to get into the hotel’s wine cellar, which would be underground and as safe as it got at the moment. The endless stream of Parisians flowed continuously through the open doors of the hotel, the hotel’s large wine cellar being able to accommodate about half of Paris’s (surviving) population.

For once in her life, Chloe was proud to call the mayor her father.

“Daddy! I’ll go get more people here!” She yelled over the bustling noise. Worry clumped over the mayor and butler Jean’s eyes, but her father nodded nonetheless, a smile slipping over his lips.

“Be careful, my dear!”

On the other side of Paris, Alya was holding onto her younger siblings as tightly as she could, all four of them hidden under the dining table. A loud ring startled all of them, the second-oldest Cesaire turning her attention to her phone. Earthquake-like vibrations made multiple household objects topple and smash onto the floor, much to the twins’ terror.

“Chloe?” She breathed, picking up the call.

The voice that came in response was panting, taking hurried, shuddering breaths. The consistent thump-thump-thump of footsteps also echoed through the phone, accompanied by the distance rings of destruction. “Where are you? Get your family towards Le Grand Paris, you can hide in the wine cellar!”

Alya couldn’t believe the blonde’s words.

“And if you’re up to it, spread the word! The wine cellar is the safest place we have right now.”

The call ended, Alya blinking back her surprise in exchange of a courage that surged forward all of a sudden. “Nora, take Ella and Etta to Le Grand Paris and hide in the wine cellar.”

“And where are you going?”

Alya steeled her jittering nerves. “I’m going to get out there and help.”

Not too far away from the Cesaire’s apartment, Ladybug was swinging through the city, surveying the damage. The whizz of her yoyo felt deafening to her ears, and everything hurt. Her muscles were sore, her legs were shaking, and her vision felt blurry. Half of Paris was a rubble of cement and dust, and the other half was on the verge of collapsing soon.

Ladybug’s eyes widened in horror as she jerked back, catching sight of a familiar building that was so burdened with destruction that she could barely recognise it if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew she was on the right street.

“No. No, no, no. Nononono-” Her breath caught in her throat, suffocating and strangling her from inside.

The bakery had collapsed.

She prayed with all her heart that her parents had gotten out, but from the looks of it, the bakery was hit fast and the chances that-

No.

“Think positive thoughts, Marinette.” The heroine whispered to herself, desperate and unwilling to face what she was sure was the truth. “Maybe they got out. Maybe they got out. They’re fine.”

Even as she swung off, Ladybug knew in her heart that despite the lies she insisted on telling herself, her parents’ dead bodies were somewhere underneath the rubble.

»»——⍟——««

“Mamma!” Tears streamed down Lila’s face as she tugged and pulled at the portion of their ceiling that had chosen the diplomat as its’ victim. There was no use- Both of them knew as well as 1 + 1 that there was no way Lila could lift the concrete block by herself.

The diplomat looked up with a weak smile, already having come to terms with how her life would end- With her lower half crushed by a ceiling. “Leave me here, dear, the building’s going to-”

Lila shook her head stubbornly, desperately trying to lift the concrete again, only to look up in surprise, not having expected a pair of spandexed hands to join hers. Ladybug let out a grunt as she tried to nudge the collapsed ceiling even just a little, her suit tearing due to the rough surface of the collapsed ceiling.

“Come on, we’ll push at the count of three!” The hero instructed, groaning and giving all her strength to the giant piece of debris, but it was no use. Ladybug was tired and worn out, and the little strength she had in her was not enough to overcome the concrete’s stubbornness to stay put. “I... I could...” She flung out her yoyo, trying to think of a way to use the concrete’s weight against itself.

“Ladybug, the building is collapsing, please just leave me be.” The diplomat pleaded. “Lila, please get out of here!”

The building groaned, supporting the woman’s statement. Ladybug bowed apologetically, guilt lurking in every corner of her eyes. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance, ma’am.”

“You’ve done a lot for Paris. I should thank you.” The woman whispered, smiling painfully at her daughter. “I’m sorry, Lila. I love you, forever.”

The girl sniffled, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I love you too, mamma.”

“Come on, Lila.” Ladybug whispered gently, pulling the teen away. It was as heart-wrenching as abandoning a puppy on the side of the road on a rainy day, but the diplomat was right- The building was giving in, and if they didn’t get out themselves, Paris’s death count would only increase by another two.

The escape from the building was quiet, only filled by the whizz of the yoyo. “I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more.” Ladybug said softly.

“It’s not your fault.” Lila sniffled bitterly. Now that they were soaring over the city, Lila could see just how much of it was crumbled and broken- At least 70% of the city was reduced to rubbles, and the Eiffel tower, who had once stood tall at the core of Paris, had now bowed down to the wrath of the man who knew nothing but his own wants.

It was at that moment that Lila Rossi decided that the person she hated the most was Hawkmoth.

»»——⍟——««

You never know the true meaning of horror until you live that one moment that crushes you inside.

It freezes your blood, it makes your heart stop, and your chest feels like its’ being constricted. You can’t breath, and your field of vision just narrows to the one point that defines the cause of all your pain. Sometimes, you don’t even know what you feel. All emotion has been drained out of you, and your brain has lagged behind, unsure of how to react.

Chloe stood in front of Le Grand Paris- The remains of it, anyway, and came to the conclusion that her father saved at least a thousand lives that day. All by putting aside his own safety and shepherding millions of his citizens into the wine cellar.

It was over.

It took hours for the firefighters to dig out the entrance to the wine cellar, millions and thousands of relieved Parisians crawling from the hole. The daughter of the mayor sat and waited, helping wherever she could. There were too many tears shed, too much blood bled, and too many people dead.

She watched the line of Parisians trickle from what was formerly Le Grand Paris’s wine cellar. She waited and waited until the sun finally had mercy on Paris and ended the day that would be marked as the end of the city of love. She prayed and hoped until she saw the last man crawl from the cellar.

And then she faced the truth that neither her father nor butler Jean made it into the wine cellar themselves.

»»——⍟——««

Adjusting to the bright light shining around her was difficult, to say the least. Paris had been shrouded in semi-darkness for the past twenty-four hours.

Marinette sat up hurriedly, groaning at the piercing pain that shot thorugh her spine at the action. All around her were her friends’ worried faces, Alya’s, Adrien’s, Nino’s, Chloe’s- Were those tears on Chloe’s cheeks? And was that Lila comforting her?

“Alya found you passed out in the middle of the street after it ended.” Nino explained quickly.

Ah, that was what they were calling it now, Marinette thought. The battle she had fought for over fifteen hours without pause was now labelled ‘It’.

“What were you doing out there, you could’ve died!” Alya scolded, but despite the tone, the teen was more glad than anything to see that the bluenette had made it.

“Where... Are we? And why is everything so... Destroyed?”

The classmates shared looks that practically spelt ‘Who’s going to break it to her?’.

“Ladybug disappeared after the battle was won. She never got to use her miraculous cure.” Chloe supplied the explanation coldly. “Thousands are dead. Almost every building needs to be rebuilt.”

Adrien offered her a weak smile that was on the verge of breaking. “Hawkmoth is gone for good.” There was a faint suggestion in the boy’s eyes that he was going through much more pain than any of them knew. “Hawkmoth... My father. My father was Hawkmoth. He was arrested a couple hours ago. Nathalie was Mayura.”

Silence shrouded the teens like a black rain cloud. “I’m sorry, Adrien.” Marinette whispered. It was coming back to her now- Chat Noir’s anguished screams when they discovered Gabriel Agreste, decked out in his purple suit, standing in the attic of Agreste Manor, Mayura’s escape- Feeling like she couldn’t go any further. The last thing she remembered was her transformation dropping, and contact with the cold hard ground.

“Don’t be.” Lila responded nonchalantly. “I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that this whole shit was Hawkmoth’s fault and no one else’s. Almost everyone has lost a family member. Some of us lost more than others. It’s no one’s fault, so don’t you go apologising, Dupain-Cheng.”

Her friends murmured their agreements, giving her soft smiles despite the devastation that tore at each of their hearts.

Marinette wanted to laugh.

Thousands dead and it was because she couldn’t hold on for two more seconds to use her miraculous cure.

Thousands dead, including her own parents, Lila’s, and god knows how many others’ parents, siblings, lovers, and friends.

Thousands dead and it was all. Her. Fault.

»»——⍟——««

“Well?”

Impatience decorated Lila’s tone as she tapped her heels, waiting for the terrorist’s answer. The click of her heels echoed through the room, bouncing off the concrete walls to create the loudest noise Gabriel had ever heard in a long time.

“What happened to the peacock miraculous?” She repeated one more time for good measure, irked and irritated by the lack of answer from the other side of the glass.

“It’s gone.” Gabriel answered softly after a while. “When they found Nathalie passed out in that alley, she didn’t have her miraculous on.” The man’s former assistant had fled after Ladybug and Chat Noir confronted them in the Agreste Manor, but two hours later, she was found unconscious in a back alley, and it was later discovered in the hospital that she had fallen into a coma.

Bewilderment lit inside the woman’s eyes, burning beside the fury that blazed inside her soul. “Are you telling me someone stole them?” She hissed, resisting the urge to slam her hands on something.

“No.” Gabriel answered reluctantly, slightly afraid of the woman’s fury. If it was any consolation, he knew the two-inch glass wall would prevent her from inflicting any harm onto him. “I’m telling you that Duusu probably ran off with her own miraculous.”

The woman sucked in a deep breath, regulating her breathing to regain her composure. “Then do you have any idea where she went?”

“Duusu is corrupted and manipulative, but she’ll need a host to operate through. She’d probably look for someone emotional, someone who’s lost a lot and is in a lot of pain.” Gabriel sighed, looking up to be met by Lila’s annoyed expression.

“Oh wow.” Said the woman sarcastically, hands propped on her hips in a pretentious, thoughtful manner. “Someone emotional, someone who’s lost a lot and is in a lot of pain. That just about defines everyone that survived the apocalypse you laid on us three months ago.”

It was at that moment Lila’s sarcastic attitude brought Gabriel to a terrifying conclusion. There was no amount of sympathy in her eyes, and judging from the hate and loath in her eyes... The revelation splashed him like a cold bucket of ice water, waking him up from the small smudge of hope he got to hold for a couple of seconds.

“You aren’t here to get me out.” He whispered. Just when he thought that the sly woman was going to get him out of the four walls he was trapped in- She slammed her true intentions back into his face with no mercy.

“You killed my mother, you bastard.” She smiled so sweetly that he wouldn’t be surprised if she was instantly cast as the beautiful but wicked stepmother from Snow White or perhaps the enchantress from Sleeping Beauty. “As well as the friends and family of thousand others. I hope you rot in jail forever.”

»»——⍟——««

If anyone’s confused on the timeline of the story, this is how it goes:

3 months before current time, the final battle takes place (ch.5). Thousands die because Ladybug didn’t get to use her miraculous cure. Hawkmoth is arrested and Nathalie falls into a coma. Ladybug/Marinette leave Paris after the battle is over.

Ladybug/Marinette heads to Gotham, where Marinette gets hired into GCPD and becomes partners with Damian. She also becomes Gotham’s newest vigilante, Lan, who exposes corrupt politicians

2 weeks before current time, Adrien Agreste is murdered and Chat Noir stops patrolling Paris. (This is when Marinette learns from Tikki that Adrien and Chat are the same person even though the conversation wasn’t written)

Current time (ch.1) Lan asks Damian to help her find the miraculous of the black cat

Damian, the next day, finds out that Plagg and the black cat miraculous have been in his apartment the whole time (He then emails her and asks her to go to his apartment to discuss things)

(ch.4) Damian and Marinette talk

At the same time, in Paris, Luka visits Chloe, who is apparently in kahoots with him

Also at the same time, Lila breaks into the highest security prison in Paris and talks to Gabriel Agreste/Hawkmoth (also partly ch.5)

That’s about it for now :3

taglist. @demonicbusiness @animegirlweeb @roselynfey @2confused-2doanything @insane-fangirl-of-everything @promiswords @galaxylightmoon @fusser90 @ira-sairain @liquid-luck-00 @glastwime859

gen. daminette taglist. @maskedpainter @animegirlweeb @missmadwoman

»»——⍟——««

| next part | ao3 |

»»——⍟——««

#damian wayne #marinette dupain-cheng #daminette #damian wayne x marinette dupain-cheng #damian x marinette #mlb x dc #detective!damian wayne #detective!au #fox!marinette dupain-cheng #fox!Marinette #detective and criminal au #the detective and the blue-eyed fox #cady writesss «

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winzenni · 4 years

Text

didn't mean to make you cry (lee donghyuck)

Summary: when your design project partner’s joking criticism unintentionally makes you cry, how will he fix it? after all, you’re his crush...

Genre: hurt/comfort?, fluff

Pairing: donghyuck x artist!reader, high school!au

Word count: 1.5k

When you were paired up with the outgoing, edgy, purple-haired boy in class for your design assignment, you thought your final grade was done for. The purple-haired class clown, Lee Donghyuck, who wears leather jackets and looks like he plays with fire in his free time, but actually has a kind heart and warm aura.

You thought Donghyuck would ditch you in the very beginning, dumping the entire assignment onto you and opting to hit up the local night market with his friends instead, but he had surprised you. Throughout the month, Donghyuck had stayed on task in classes and been very attentive to your vision and goals for the project. Together, you were assigned to create a design layout that would display students’ artwork and be printed in the school newspaper.

Though your peers in class all opted for a traditional newspaper design, with serif fonts and boxy modules, you wanted to break out of the norm and create a futuristic vibe, with circles and vivid motifs, to emanate a clean aura in your work. When you were paired with Donghyuck, you feared he would shut down your creative vision, but instead, he had been extremely supportive and helpful in the project, even offering insight to improve the layout and refine the modern look of the pages.

For fun, you had put some close-up photos of your old sketches and drawings in the background. You thought Donghyuck would have called you self-centered for putting your own personal works on the page, but he had proven you wrong by complimenting the design afterwards. Together, your smooth black pen lines and colored pencil textures created a personal, diary-like feeling to the design, while the minimalistic modules and white space kept the clean modern vibes.

His willingness to cooperate and kindness to you and your ideas had truly shocked you, and erased the bad boy/lazy rebel image you had thought of him. He seemed like someone you wanted to get closer with, maybe.

“Donghyuck and Y/N, time for your evaluation.” the teacher called you two up.

“Hm, this corner of the page is a little crowded. It’s hard on the eyes,” Ms. Kang says.

“It’s because y/n drew the picture there,” says Donghyuck. “It’s ugly, right?” He says it in a joking manner, and you know he doesn’t mean it like that, but the words stir up some insecurities you’ve suppressed for a long time.

Ms. Kang laughs along with him. “Donghyuck, don’t be mean. Her drawing looks fine…”

You know he was joking when he had called your drawing ugly, but you couldn’t help but think that maybe he truly meant it. People were always like that to you.

In elementary school, your parents had loved your art. Your scribbly golden retrievers, your painted landscapes, they had praised each one and hung them up on the refrigerator, and you were so proud to have a talent that they were proud of.

In eighth grade, your hyper realistic self-portrait earned you a ticket to New York to have your art displayed at a museum’s exhibit highlighting children’s artworks. You began to think this talent could take off and become a career, but your parents disagreed.

“Art doesn’t make money, y/n. Do you want to starve when you grow up?”

As you grew older, your art got better but your parents’ support decreased. Though you could draw a golden retriever 100 times better than before, your parents weren’t praising you.

“It’s ok, y/n. It looks kind of ugly.”

“That’s supposed to be you? It’s ugly-”

“Why did you draw me so ugly-”

Ugly was such a short word. But why did it hurt so much? Whenever you saw your parents’ faces, you just thought about your ugly, meaningless passion: art.

The bell rang.

“Ah, I barely noticed the time. We’ll finish grading your design next class.” says Ms. Kang.

“Cool, thanks seonsaengnim,” Donghyuck responds. “Y/n, what did you think? She really liked the-”

You stand up, grabbing your bag and leaving for the cafeteria. You couldn’t hear Donghyuck’s words over your parents’ criticisms ringing in your head.

“Are you dumb? You’re NOT going to art school.” “No more art, y/n. It’s meaningless.” It had been a while since the word “ugly” had come up when talking about your art, your hobby, your talent, no -- your sole passion in life that gave you a purpose. You didn’t even notice your eyes watering up.

“Y/n, didn’t you hear me?” Donghyuck catches up beside you. “Ms. Kang said -- wait, are you crying?”

You’re taken aback, looking up to the face on your left. Concern flashes through his eyes as a sense of embarrassment pierces your chest. He thinks I cried because of a dumb joke he made, you think to yourself. He thinks I’m too sensitive and weak like that.

“Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, taking a u-turn to seek refuge in the bathroom.

At lunch, you plop your tray beside your friend Renjun, taking a seat.

“How was the project evaluation?” He asks.

“Renjun, you’re gonna laugh when I say this. I cried for no reason in front of Donghyuck,” you reveal.

“Why? What happened?” He asks worriedly.

You explain the purple-haired kid in your class, the design project, the thoughts that had rushed through your mind after Donghyuck had jokingly called your art ugly. Renjun, who you had first met in art class and hoped to become an art student himself, was one of few people who truly understood your insecurities about your future in art.

“He probably thinks I’m weird and too sensitive now,” you say.

“Maybe,” he says. Renjun was never one to lie, even if the truth hurt a little bit. “It’s okay though, you probably won’t see him ever again after this year.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, patting it comfortingly.

“You’re right,” you laugh, scooping up another spoonful of rice.

How can she be laughing so much after crying less than twenty minutes ago? Donghyuck asks himself from across the cafeteria. Did I do something wrong?

“Donghyuck, what’s on your mind?” pipes up Jeno. “What are you looking at?”

“Hm? Oh… Earlier in class, that girl over there cried after I said something but I’m not sure why.” Donghyuck answers.

Jeno raises his head to look over at the girl in question. “Oh! Y/n? She’s so nice though, how did you even make her cry?” “I don’t know! That’s what I want to know!” Donghyuck defends himself. “Who’s sitting next to her though? She was just crying last class, why is she laughing already?”

“Oh, that’s Renjun. Why don’t you just ask him? He seemed pretty chill in math class last year,” Jeno suggests.

When Donghyuck sees Renjun turn into the boys’ bathroom before class, he follows.

“Renjun!” he calls out.

Renjun turns around to see the owner of the unfamiliar voice.

“Why did y/n cry? Did I do something wrong?”

Tilting his head to process the sudden interrogation, Renjun notices Donghyuck’s bright purple hair and makes the connection.

“Oh, you’re Donghyuck,” he remarks.

“Please, Renjun, tell me if I did something wrong. I need to know.”

“Why do you care so much?” Renjun asks. “Don’t worry about it, she’s not mad at you.”

“No, please. Please tell me. I-” Donghyuck starts. How can he admit his crush on you to a stranger right now? He can’t miss his chance. “I-I like y/n. I need to know if I did something wrong. I want to fix it. Please, Renjun.”

Donghyuck had loved your drawings. He had loved your designs too. And loved you too. He loved how concentrated you focused when designing the layout, how your fingers gracefully pushed hair behind your ears when it fell in your face. He loved how your passion and dedication shined through in everything you did, whether it was your voice in a presentation, or the speed and concentration of your fingers on a keyboard. You were his crush, but also his role model. He couldn’t live with himself if he had made you cry.

Renjun explained your situation, your art, your parents, your self-doubt to Donghyuck. “Shoot your shot, Donghyuck. I think maybe y/n likes you too,” he said before pushing the door open and leaving quickly to hide his growing smile.

Alone in the bathroom, Donghyuck breathes a sigh of relief.

The next day in class, Donghyuck slides his backpack on the desk beside you, instead of his usual seat in the back.

You look up, unsure how to face him. Should you explain why you cried? Or pretend like it didn’t happen?

He slips a folded pink piece of paper onto your desk, nodding at you to open it.

You unfold the paper to see a doodle of a girl and boy, painting the sky together under some clouds. Amongst the clouds read “Your art is amazing. And you are too.” in a neat script. On the bottom of the paper: “Wanna come with me to the night market on Saturday?”

You look up at Donghyuck, searching his eyes to see if this is some pitiful joke or attempt to amend. Instead, you just see a glazed, lovestruck gaze in his eyes.

“I promise I won’t make you cry this time,” he says.

#haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #nct #nct fic #nct scenarios #haechan #lee donghyuck #nct dream #nct 127 #fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct 127 fluff #haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff

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wolfstarflowerpottstarchaser · 3 years

Text

How I imagine Rose Granger-Weasley

She grew up playing in WWW

Ron was a stay-at-home Dad with Rose until Hermione fell pregnant with Hugo, and he took on a role at WWW to help with bills (more on this in an old post)

Rose gets on with both of her parents, but she’s definitely a Daddy’s Girl and Hugo is a big Mummy’s boy

Rose and Hugo fall out sometimes like all siblings do, but she’s very protective of him for the most part

She is a very stereotypical big sister and she definitely inherited her mother’s knack for bossiness, ordering Hugo about whenever they played games

But she made the most fun games and Hugo didn’t mind letting her take charge because she was the best at imagining

Of all her cousins, she’s closest with Albus. Maybe because they were the closest in age, they would often get sat together at family events and they became very close, but really she was close with all her cousins

When she’s at Hogwarts, she hangs around mostly with Albus and Scorpius, but (since they’re in a different house) she doesn’t see them all the time. That’s okay with her, though, because she likes to have time to herself, reading and painting

Like Ron says, she takes after her mother

She’s definitely a bright witch so no one’s real surprised initially when the Sorting hat places her in Ravenclaw

“Hermione Granger’s daughter, you know? Just like her mother, I’m sure”

But classes start and her teachers are surprised by her behaviour. They expected her to be just like Hermione, but her behaviour is much more like Ron

In class, she’s often told off for daydreaming and letters were definitely sent home fairly often informing Ron and Hermione that she wasn’t paying attention in class

Instead, more often than not, she would sketch instead of take notes. She was a good little artist

In her first class with McGonagall, she drew a picture of her animagus form in her witch’s hat, and it was confiscated

Sometimes she would enchant the pictures to move, but other times she would prefer to keep them still and admire the world she created trapped in a single moment

When end of year exams came, her teachers were pleasantly shocked she had passed most of her subjects with mostly ‘Exceeds Expectations,’ a couple ‘Acceptables’ and even one ‘Outstanding’ in astronomy after a year of late homework and not paying attention

Around third year, she started feeling more anxious about her academic performance. Her whole life, she was being compared to her mother and now that Hermione was the Minister, the pressure was worse than ever

She felt as though people met her, daughter of Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, and Ron Weasley, also one of the bravest fighters during the war, and they expected something… better

It was an impossible life to live up to

She tried to do better, push herself to get those top marks in subjects. She really tried her hardest in class, asking questions and taking notes, and she stayed up late into the night to get more studying done

Rose stopped drawing, stopped painting, stopped everything that made her happy, including seeing her friends and cousins. There was no time anymore

James was the one who finally wrote to her parents, but apparently he hadn’t been the only one who had noticed

Rose was asked to stay behind after transfiguration with McGonagall. Minnie poured them some tea and offered Rose a biscuit, which she took quite happily

“I’ve noticed a change in your behaviour, Ms Granger-Weasley,” she said. “Apparently I’m not the only one. Professor Longbottom has conveyed similar changes in herbology. It’s almost as if your mother is back in my class.”

Rose smiled, tired from lack of sleep, but pleased. “Thank you!”

“I also noticed a few other differences,” she continued. “For example, I have seen you falling asleep in the Great Hall during meal times, and it’s been a long time since you’ve shown me one of your wonderful pictures.”

“Well, Professor, I’ve been trying a lot harder in all my classes,” Rose said. “There’s time for silly hobbies after I’ve completed my education. I need to be focused like my mum was.”

And then McGonagall went on to tell Rose the importance of not overexerting oneself and the toll it can take on your mental health

“I imagine that it’s not always easy being the child of two famous parents, especially when they achieved so much at a young age, but… you are your own person. Not your mother or father and nor would they want you to be. You are Rose Minerva Granger-Weasley, and you have your own wonderful destiny.”

Rose was stunned. As she left, McGonagall added, “For the record, I have never considered your art a silly hobby,” and Rose noticed her slip something into her desk drawer. The same picture she had confiscated from her two years ago

She really listened to her that day. She was not Hermione or Ron. She was a little bit of both and then some. She was Rose and she had her own path to take

That night, she used a paintbrush for the first time in months and felt herself again

Something occurred to her. She wasn’t the only one who loved art. If they teach it in muggle schools, why could they not have art classes in Hogwarts?

That said, why stop there? What about things like music?

A few days later, she went to see McGonagall again, this time with five pages filled with signatures

“These are the students who think we should have an arts and music programme at Hogwarts. There are so many empty classrooms and the school definitely has the funding.”

McGonagall smiled proudly. “This is quite something you’ve put together, I’ll propose it to the board.”

It took some time, but eventually the board had to agree because so many students were demanding it

Obviously, Hermione and Ron were so proud

Fifth year starts and Rose joins the quidditch team, chaser like her Aunt Ginny

Around this time, she becomes friends with a fourth-year muggleborn witch also new on the team, Darlene

She realises (or, more accurately, let’s herself realise) that she’s got feelings for Darlene

She tries to ignore it, but one day, Darlene kisses her and she can’t ignore it anymore

Over Christmas break, she comes out to her family, and holds her breath

But, of course, they’re all so supportive

Ron is especially eager to meet her new girlfriend, insisting she stay with them for a week over the summer

When Albus and Scorpius come out a year later, she’s the only one who’s shocked

She’s seen them together more than anyone, but somehow was the only one who missed it entirely

Like her Uncle Harry, she can be totally oblivious

(Except this time, even he knew)

When Rose left school, she became an artist… but decided she wanted to explore her Muggle heritage

She stayed with her maternal grandparents for a while, and then started to sell her paintings in muggle art galleries

After Darlene finished Hogwarts, they got a small place together, and saved for several years until they could afford…

Their own café on Diagon Alley. Darlene loved to bake and her cakes quickly became famous, and Rose’s artwork (now painted with magic again) we’re selling more than ever, and other artists were showcasing their work there now, too

They lived above the café in a small flat

It wasn’t until they were in their late 30s that they decided to get married, and it was a small, intimate wedding

(Yes, Ron cried his eyes out)

They never had kids, neither of them wanted to be mothers and were quite happy just being aunties

But they did have a cat. Her name was Minnie

#rose granger weasley #hermione granger #ron weasley #headcanon #Darlene #wlw #my version of…

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.8/25

It was the weekend.

Finally.

The year was barrelling towards the winter holidays faster than a river crashing over a waterfall. The children were all getting excited for the holiday season and decorations had been cropping up around the school. Tissaia had kept her classroom bare. The students had been allowed to decorate their lockers but the art classroom needed to remain a blank canvas. The addition of tinsel and fairy lights caused unnecessary distraction to her creative process. Her work was methodical and a way for her to organise the chaos in her mind. The decorations around the winter months caused her thoughts to spiral and her anxiety would become almost unbearable.

She closed her eyes and took a long deep breath, counting the beats in her head and then exhaled. She pictured the tension in her shoulders washing away like footprints in the sand. She repeated the process again until her thoughts quietened down. By the time she opened her eyes all thoughts of the brightly coloured school halls had flittered away.

She grabbed her notebook from her purse and began to sketch the trees outside of the coffee shop window. She noted the way the sunlight broke through the branches and danced on the pavement below, the way the bark shimmered in the bright morning sunshine and yet fell into dark gloomy shadows.

She’d always been fascinated by light in her art. The way something so untouchable could completely change the colour and shape of an object. Things that seemed terrible in the darkness were harmless in the light. It was honestly magical and she would never get tired of trying to capture the beauty of the phenomena on paper.

“Tissaia?”

Her charcoal skidded across the paper as she started at the sound of her name.

Her sketch was ruined.

Yennefer’s violet eyes were shining down on her, her signature raven black hair tumbling down past her shoulders. She had two small coffee cups in her hands.

She sighed and carefully put her charcoal away. She tore the page from her notebook with practiced ease and folded it in half. She would put it in the recycling the next time she went past a bin.

“Yennefer.” She greeted her former student with a smile as she straightened out the sleeves of her shirt. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I’m visiting Ciri.” Yennefer nodded to the till where the young girl was taking a paper bag from the barista.

She raised an eyebrow at the younger woman.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “She insisted that she bought her own cake. Honestly, Tissaia I’m not an idiot.”

“I never said you were.”

“You implied it.” Yennefer muttered sharply under her breath.

“Yennefer.” Tissaia sighed and picked up her now cold mug of coffee. “Must we always fight?”

Yennefer laughed at that. “Just like the good old days.”

“I was tough on you because I saw talent. You know that.” She grimaced as she sipped her drink. This always happened when she started drawing but she didn’t want to waste her money by not drinking it.

“Auntie Yen!” Ciri came bounding over clutching the paper bag. “I got a chocolate brownie! It has glitter on it!”

“You already have a hot chocolate?” Yennefer asked holding up one of the cups.

“Yup!” Ciri grinned gleefully.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “You’ll turn into a chocolate if you’re not careful.”

“No I won’t!” Ciri shook her head. “I asked Mr Jaskier and he said that adults just say that so you won’t eat so much!”

Tissaia smiled as she sipped her coffee. Yennefer looked ready to strike down the younger teacher. Her violet eyes flashed dangerously and she ran her hand through her hair. “Of course he did. Do you know why adults say that?”

Ciri scowled and scrunched up her nose. “Nope!”

“It’s because chocolate is a treat and we should only eat it some of the time. If we ate it all the time then it wouldn’t be special anymore.” Yennefer tried to explain. “Right?”

Tissaia nodded. “She's right.”

Ciri tilted her head at the explanation and narrowed her eyes at Tissaia. “So you lie?”

Tissaia looked at Yennefer who was staring right back at her.

This was why neither of them taught the younger tutor groups.

“Think of it more like a story.” A new voice chimed brightly.

Yennefer groaned as Ciri spun around excitably.

“Mr Jaskier!!”

“Hello, Ciri. Yennefer, Ms de Vries.” Jaskier waved cheerfully. “Adult sometimes tell stories as a way to teach children about the good and bad things of the world, like eating too much chocolate.”

“Like when mummy lions pretend to be scared when the baby lions jump on them?” Ciri asked.

“That’s right!” Jaskier grinned.

“What are you doing here, Buttercup?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow at the brunet.

“Getting coffee?” Jaskier held up his own coffee mug which was covered in a gooey caramel syrup. “Heard they were doing special editions for the holidays and I just love edible glitter.”

Tissaia closed her eyes to try and focussed on her breathing to try and block out the conversation. She had come to the small coffee shop for some well earned peace and quiet. It was part of her weekend routine to help her relax after a week of teaching. She had been coming to the coffee shop every Saturday for years now.

“Tissaia?” Yennefer’s voice again.

“Yennefer” She answered, not opening her eyes, her fingers finding the cuffs of her sleeves with practiced ease.

She heard a shuffle of movement and the excitable voices of Ciri and Jaskier moved away. With a final deep breath she opened her eyes to find Yennefer still staring down at her. Jaskier and Ciri were sat at a nearby table away from her.

“I’m sorry, Tissaia. I didn’t mean to interrupt. When I’ve dropped Ciri back at Geralt’s we can catch up properly.” Yennefer suggested.

“You can tell me all about that blog of yours.” She agreed.

“Like you don’t follow me already.” Yennefer teased gently.

“I’d still like to hear it from you.” She countered, and it was true. She had always followed Yennefer’s ascent into the art world with great interest. She was proud to see her prodigy blossom into a fierce and talented young woman. It was a dream come true to see someone so brilliant succeed and as teacher she bristled with pride to know her student was flying amongst the stars, but mostly she had received all this information second hand through Yennefer’s blog or from Triss and Istredd in the staffroom. It would be nice to hear it from her friend in person for a change.

“Always so sentimental.” Yennefer smirked and then turned back to her ward. “Ciri, leave Mr Jaskier alone. It’s time to meet up with your father.”

“Mr Jaskier can come too!” Ciri suggested.

Tissaia watched the young teacher carefully. It was no secret that Jaskier, amongst others, had a crush on Geralt Rivia. Jaskier and Triss were often found gossiping happily in the corner of the staffroom about how handsome the man was. Tissaia didn’t exactly agree, not that she really found anyone attractive, but the mindless conversation was an entertaining break from teaching and marking.

However, having a harmless crush on a parent was very different from actively dating a parent, especially when their child was in your class. That was frowned upon to say the least. Stregobor would certainly have no qualms about firing Jaskier if he thought there was even a shadow of a doubt in the man’s conduct at work.

Jaskier froze.

His face lit up like a tomato.

And then he promptly threw his coffee all over the table he had sat down at.

“Oh chocolate fudge cakes!” He yelled and jumped back. Ciri squealed and leapt back to avoid the hot liquid. “I am so sorry Ciri. Did it get you?”

Ciri shook her head but seemed a little confused by Jaskier’s sudden clumsiness. “I’m ok.”

“Good. Good. No harm done then. I’ll just get some napkins to clean up this mess. You’d better run along now with your Aunt Yennefer. I bet your dad will be very excited to see you.” Jaskier was talking faster than a rocket as he scooped up his now sodden notebook off the table and look forlornly at the empty mug.

Ciri frowned. “I see him every day.”

“Well then you are a very lucky girl. I will see you on Monday in class. Don’t forget to bring in your favourite story. We’ll be sharing them after lunch.” Jaskier rambled in a hurry and then scurried away to find some cleaning supplies.

Tissaia sighed as the young girl was dragged from the coffee shop, still grasping her paper bag that contained her chocolatey treat.

Jaskier was playing a dangerous game and it was likely going to end in heartbreak. She really hoped he knew what he was doing. _______________

Tissaia sunk down onto her sofa wearily. After the chaos of the her usual quiet time at the coffee shop her thoughts had been racing and she struggled to regain control of her own heartbeat. She’d tried to paint various objects from around her house. She’d started with her plants then moved onto an assortment of candles, but she’d not quite managed to capture the way the flames flickered and glowed on the paper and she’d only ended up more frustrated than when she’d started.

After that she’d decided to clear up her kitchen. She’d been too tired during the week and the mess had begun to build up. It had taken longer than she’d expected but as she’d cleaned and organised her kitchen she’d felt her thoughts follow suit. Her feet were now aching and her arms were sore. She’d sleep well tonight.

She hummed happily as she poured herself a glass of red wine. She took a deep breath as she inhaled the swirling lavender scent from her candles. There were no children and she was at peace. It wasn’t that she hated the children. She loved her job really, she loved bringing light and art to a whole new generation of brilliant young minds. She loved their vivid imaginations and endless enthusiasm for the beauty in the world, but by the end of the week she was always emotionally drained. She had considered giving up teaching full time and offering private lessons, or spending more time on her own work and commissions but the stability teaching gave held her back.

She’d just picked up her book when her phone rang. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Apparently nothing was going her way today. She checked the caller ID. It was Yennefer. She clicked the green button and put the phone on speaker.

“Hello Yennefer.” She answered, trying to keep the fatigue from her voice.

“Tissaia. I’m outside. Let me in.” Yennefer asked, if you could really call it a question.

She considered leaving her outside but Yennefer was like family to her after all these years. She hung up the phone and smoothed down her skirt before opening the door. Yennefer was stood holding a large rectangular brown paper package under her arm. She was wearing black jeans that looked like they’d been vacuumed onto her body they were so tight, a plain white t-shirt with cropped leather jacket. God forbid that Yennefer ever wear colour. Tissaia gestured for her to come inside.

“A little warning wouldn’t go amiss, Yennefer.” Tissaia chided gently.

“A warning gives you the chance to say no.” Yennefer countered. “I don’t come back that often, Tissaia. I wanted to see you properly before I left.”

She nodded. “Wine?”

“Please.” Yennefer grinned. “I brought you something.” She added once Tissaia had poured out a second glass of wine and they’d settled down onto the sofa together.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow at the parcel that was propped up against the wall. She’d seen enough canvases in her time to recognise one even through brown paper.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Does there have to be an occasion?” Yennefer challenged but rolled her eyes at the look she received for her question. The two of them were friends, almost like mother and daughter, but that didn’t mean they always had an easy friendship, and surprise presents were certainly unusual, especially from Yennefer. “The Solstice is coming up, an apology for earlier, a thank you for convincing Stregobor to let Ciri into the school. Take your pick.”

Tissaia paused mid sip of her wine, touched by Yennefer’s display of thoughtfulness. She smiled at her younger friend and put her glass down so that she could open the parcel. The pulled the tape off the corners of the present, careful not to damage the canvas hidden beneath the paper and peeled back the edges of the wrapping. The painting was bright and bold and fiery, everything that screamed Yennefer, but there was a strange calmness around the edges of the painting like waves lapping at the sand.

Yennefer shuffled awkwardly and took a long swig of her wine. “It’s not your usual style, I know that. It probably would look completely out of place with the rest of your house so I don’t expect you to hang it up but it’s yours, a Vengerberg original.”

Yennefer wasn’t wrong. The chaos that exuded from all of Yennefer’s artwork would clash horrible with the carefully cultivated tranquility of Tissaia’s house but that didn’t stop a wave of unbridled emotion from rising up in her chest.

“It’s beautiful.” She wanted to trace the swirls of colour with her finger but resisted. She didn’t want to damage the brushwork. “I’ll find a place for it. Everything has its place. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Yennefer brushed off her praise with a wave of her hand. “So did I tell you what the owner of Aedirn said about my last article?”

Tissaia smirked. She’d met Virfuril once or twice at galas and she’d quickly realised he was a misogynistic racist prick. He cared more about an artist’s appearance, and social standing than about their art. His gallery was full of art made solely by young straight white women. Diversity was not a word that featured in the man’s vocabulary.

Yennefer had called him out on it in her last review, challenging him to feature work by black artists, artists of all different races, sexualities, genders, ages, religions. She’d spoken out about how her own art had been pulled from the gallery, whilst she was still studying at university, once Virfuril had realised Yennefer’s own diverse background after pictures of her childhood and her grandfather had been leaked during her last year at the university.

The younger artist hadn’t known any better back in university. She’d used her privilege to her own advantage without even realising. It had taken Yennefer years to realise that her voice mattered, especially with a growing platform where more and more people were listening to her every day. Now she stood tall and proud, not letting a single person pull her down because of her race, gender or disabilities. Tissaia imagined Virfuril didn’t take too kindly to her just attack but she was immensely proud of her friend. She swirled her wine gently in her glass before deciding she needed a top up.

“You didn’t.” She replied to her friend. “But I can only imagine it was as dull and pathetic as his gallery.”

Yennefer laughed and launched into her story. Tissaia felt herself relaxing as she listened to Yennefer’s scathing remarks and gleeful retelling of how the Aedirn was beginning to lose credibility. It had been a long day but she was glad that her friend had visited. It turned out to be exactly what she needed after a week of teaching children.

_________________

The coffee shop encounter played on Tissaia’s mind intermittently for the rest of the weekend. It was never easy meeting the children outside of school. Most of the younger students were convinced that the teachers lived at the school and never seemed to understand why their teachers were suddenly infiltrating their weekend lives. Ciri had taken meeting Jaskier in the coffee shop in her stride and she assumed that was down to Yennefer’s influence, her young friend had become a sort of mother figure in Ciri’s life. Ciri hadn’t seemed to have recognised Tissaia outside of school but that was probably for the best.

That being said, Tissaia couldn’t stop replaying the entire scenario in her head.

Ciri’s excitement when Jaskier had arrived was not unusual, especially for the younger pupils. Jaskier’s classes always adored him and even the older years still greeted him fondly after they’d left his class, but for her to invite her teacher along to meet her father.

That was…odd.

She sighed as she picked up her register from Triss.

“Morning Ms de Vries.” Triss mumbled.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow at the receptionist’s appearance. Her hair was impossibly wilder than usual and she had bags under her eyes. The young girl was gripping onto her coffee mug as if it were a lifeline.

“Ms Merigold.” She greeted. “Late night?”

“Yennefer wanted to catch up. I always forget how much wine that woman can drink.” Triss groaned.

“Hungover on a Monday morning? How professional.”

Triss fixed her with a glare. “Not a word to the headmaster.” She hissed.

Tissaia pulled a packet of painkillers from her purse and slid them across the desk. “My lips are sealed.”

“Oh thank god.” Triss grabbed the tablets eagerly. “Yen didn’t have any in her cupboard. I swear she’s inhuman.”

“You stayed the night?”

“Not a word!” Triss squeaked.

Tissaia smirked at the younger girl. “You should have checked her purse. You know she keeps her painkillers on her. Oh and Triss?”

“What?”

“Try and perk up before the students arrive. You look like death.”

“Always so kind.” Triss mumbled but knocked back the rest of her coffee.

She tucked the register under her arm and started to make her way to her classroom. She was about halfway there when she stopped. The memory of the coffee shop came rushing back and she spun round on her heels towards the primary school block. It was always easy to tell if Jaskier was in early. The telltale sound of music echoed down the corridor. She grimaced. The sound was not Jaskier’s best. It reminded her of the school’s end of year concerts where all the children were expected to sing and most of them couldn’t quite hold a note. It was probably a new instrument for the young teacher and he clearly hadn’t mastered the basics yet.

She smoothed down the edges of her shirt and then knocked on the bright yellow door.

“Come in!” Jaskier sang from inside.

She took a deep breath and walked into the classroom. She raised her eyebrow and the finger paintings that were pinned up on washing lines on the ceiling. Jaskier was a brilliant musician and wordsmith but his art skills needed work. No wonder the children that came through into secondary school had the artistic talent of an earthworm.

“Mr Pankratz.” She greeted him with a nod.

He jumped off the desk he was sitting on with a start, clearly expecting a different visitor. He placed the strange guitar like instrument on the floor carefully. “Ms de Vries! What can I do for you?”

“Can we talk about Ciri?”

Jaskier visibly paled. “Ciri? What’s wrong with her?”

“Sit down, Jaskier.” She gestured to his chair behind the desk at the front of the classroom.

Instead he jumped back onto the desk itself, clearly the man was allergic to chairs. She very rarely saw him sitting in one properly. She bristled and took a deep breath.

“So…” He ran a hand through his hair and looked distractedly out of the window. “Ciri?”

“Why would she ask you to meet Geralt?”

Jaskier laughed nervously. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Who wants you to meet her father outside of school?”

“Well… umm. Yes but I swear that has nothing to do with me! Maybe Geralt, Mr Rivia, has said something at home.” Jaskier blushed and then cleared his throat. “Don’t know why he would though. I’m just a lowly teacher and he’s this…” Jaskier gesticulated wildly, “this godlike hero.”

Tissaia raised an eyebrow.

“And by the gods he is beautiful. I do wonder whether his hair is naturally that colour. It’s like he’s captured the moonbeams and woven them into strands of hair.” Jaskier sighed wistfully.

“Mr Pankratz.” She cut him off sharply. “I hope you know what Stregobor would do if he heard you talking like this. It’s a wonder that Mr Marx hasn’t fed your conversations with Triss back to him.”

Jaskier flushed. “That man is a no good, snotty faced piece of sh—”

“Jaskier!” She cut him off.

“Sugar farts.” He finished.

“Sugar farts?” She chuckled.

“Not my best work I know.” He sighed dramatically and swung his legs up and laid back on the desk. “You know the only reason he hasn’t ratted me out is because he fancies Triss and he knows that he can’t get me in trouble without getting her into trouble”

“I’m aware.” Tissaia nodded. “Sometimes I wonder who the real children are in this school.” She muttered under her breath.

“Well that’s rude.” Jaskier huffed.

“Just be careful. Whatever is going on with you and Mr Rivia, you need to remain professional. He’s Ciri’s father.” Tissaia reminded him gently. “You’re a good teacher, Jaskier. I don’t want you to lose your head over this. It would hurt Ciri to lose you as her teacher and God only knows that girl has been through enough.”

Jaskier groaned into his hands. “Bollocks.”

“Julian.” She warned.

“Seriously fuck it all. It’s not fair.” He moaned.

She sighed. “And that’s the hardest lesson of all.”

The bell rang and Jaskier leapt off the desk and scooped up his instrument, putting it back in its case. “Yes well. Thank you for that inspiring lesson, Ms de Vries. Now if you could kindly fuck off.”

“Jaskier.” She sighed.

“Before the kids arrive. I have work to do.” He turned away from her.

She nodded and brushed down her skirt. It had been the right thing to do. She was fond of Jaskier. She wanted to protect him, to prevent him from making a mistake. It didn’t make her a bad person. He was just hurting but this would be better in the long run. She went to open the door but almost fell through as it was opened from the other side.

Geralt Rivia was standing, shocked, in the doorway.

“Mr Rivia?” She stammered before regaining her composure. She spun round to see Jaskier blushing brightly behind his instrument case. “Everything alright?”

Geralt nodded curtly. “Just wanted to ask Mr Pankratz a question about Ciri’s guitar lessons whilst she’s in the loo.”

“Ah yes. The guitar lessons. Have you found a teacher yet? I have a few names to recommend!” Jaskier replied quickly.

“Not yet.” Geralt shook his head.

“Right.” Tissaia hummed thoughtfully. “Have a good day.”

She fled from the room swiftly, glaring at the streams of fairy lights that littered the corridors. The intermittent flashing was giving her a headache already and the day had barely started. Her grip tightened on her bag as she made her way to her classroom.

“Guitar lessons.” She muttered under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What utter nonsense.” She heard the shouts of children coming from her classroom and rolled her eyes. It was far too early to be dealing with fighting on a Monday morning. She burst into her class, her skirt billowing out behind her. “Right!” She called loudly grabbing the attention of the few children that had already arrived. “Settle down!”

The students grumbled but the shouting faded to hushed chatter.

She pulled the register out of her bag and sat at her desk.

The weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

_____

#the witcher #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier #tissaia de vries #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #jaskier pankratz #geralt of rivia #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #teacher au #modern au #wolfie's witcher writing #you set my heart ablaze

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Ms. California, Chapter Six (Crygi) - Mik

A/N: I am SO sorry for taking so long to update! I had the worst case of writer’s block ever, and I had midterms this week. Thanks for being patient. I hope this makes up for my lack of posting!

Summary: Crystal moves to Los Angeles from Missouri and meets Gigi Goode, captain of the varsity cheer squad. Queue the 1990s lesbian high school AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

It’s been two weeks since Gigi announced to the cheer squad that Crystal was, in fact, her friend. And those two weeks had been delightful.

Every day, Gigi made a point to either sit with Jackie, Crystal, and Jan at lunch, or pull Crystal over to the squad’s lunch table. Crystal found herself beginning to enjoy getting to know the group: most of them were, to her surprise, funny, genuine, and generally good-natured. She especially found herself clicking with Nicky and Jaida. Although they were standoffish at first, Crystal quickly bonded with Nicky over her interest in fashion (although many would consider Crystal’s taste questionable at the very best, Nicky seemed to think it was “perfectly unique and lovely”) and Jaida over being the “new kid”, as she had moved from Wisconsin just a few years prior.

When Gigi first began sitting with Crystal, Jackie, and Jan, Jackie seemed to be pensive. She kept quiet and let the other three girls do all of the talking. However, this changed as soon as Gigi talked about what it was like sneaking into gay clubs in West Hollywood. Jackie lit up, asking questions about it for almost the entire lunch period. Crystal knew Jackie wanted nothing more than to have an out-and-proud gay community surrounding her - she was the only one of the four who everyone knew was gay. Gigi promised that she would accompany Jackie, and the other two girls, on one of the “18+” nights that the clubs held. From then on, Jackie seemed to gradually warm towards the blue-eyed cheerleader.

Gigi would drive Crystal home most days, often electing to come inside to do homework and cook dinner. The two would spend the first hour unable to focus, finding themselves tangled up in Crystal’s bed, lips attached and make-up smudged. Eventually, they’d compose themselves and start homework until Crystal’s mom arrived home. She’d hug both girls, and the three would automatically make their way into the kitchen. Gigi had made the comment that she felt, in many ways, that she was already closer to Crystal’s mom than her own. Crystal felt sad for her - Gigi never talked about her family and assumed that the situation was less-than-ideal - but her heart soared when she saw the blonde and her mom in fits of laughter together. Gigi would eat dinner with her family most nights, and Crystal would kiss her goodbye through the window of her magenta convertible before she drove home. They had fallen into a comfortable routine and Crystal could not have been happier.

Crystal is sitting with Jackie at their secluded lunch table, sketching the outline of a bird for an art project while Jackie flips through her government textbook. It’s a strangely gray day in Los Angeles and Crystal almost wonders if it will rain: the sun is completely hidden behind fog and dark clouds and it’s chilly enough that Crystal wishes she’d brought a hoodie with her to school.

She’s pulled out of her thoughts when she hears Gigi’s familiar laugh from a distance. It’s light and high-pitched and it makes Crystal light up. She turns around to see Gigi making her way over with Jan; they’re both wearing their cheer uniforms and Crystal doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone look as stunning as Gigi does.

“Hey girls!” Gigi says as she sits down next to Crystal.

“Hey!” Crystal grins. “You look uh, really pretty in your uniform,” she says in a hushed tone. It’s the first time she’s seen Gigi in it.

Gigi blushes. “Thank you.”

“So, we were talking about what we could do tonight after the game!” Jan interrupts, nudging Jackie softly to get the girl to look up from her textbook.

“What’s that?” Jackie asks, shutting the book.

“What if we all had a big sleepover?!” Jan suggests excitedly.

“Where?” Crystal asks.

“Jan’s house, her mom is really cool,” Gigi explains.

“Yeah, she knows about Jackie and I and is like, super happy for us,” elaborates the other blonde.

“She’s just happy that you’re finally dating someone who hasn’t had all of their braincells tackled out of them,” Jackie quips with a smirk.

“Ouch. But you’re not wrong,” Jan laughs, “I guess football guys aren’t always the brightest tools in the shed.”

“So, what do you think?!” Gigi interjects.

“I’m up for it!” Crystal agrees quickly, excited to spend more time with both of her new friends and her… whatever Gigi is to her.

“Jackie?”

“Obviously!” Jackie smiles.

“Yay!” Jan and Gigi simultaneously exclaim.

“Will you gals come to the football game, then?” Jan asks.

“I guess,” Jackie decides hesitantly.

“I’ve never been to a football game,” Crystal says. “I’ll give it a try, though. Why not?”

“You and I can just hang out at the top of the bleachers and read, Crystal,” Jackie tells the curly-haired girl.

“For sure.“

“Oh, come on, where’s your school spirit?! You gotta cheer the team on!” Jan jokes with her girlfriend and Jackie rolls her eyes playfully.

The wind begins softly blowing, making Crystal shiver again. She doesn’t understand California weather - it’s usually hot enough that she feels like she needs an ice bath, but right now, a warm sweater and some hot chocolate sounds delightful.

“Crys, are you cold?” Gigi asks.

“Oh no, I’m fine,” Crystal assures the blonde, trying not to shiver as another gust of wind blows through.

“You look like you’re cold, I’m giving you my jacket,” Gigi tells her decidedly.

“Gi, no, you totally don’t have to -”

“Here,” Gigi says, pulling off the purple letterman’s jacket.

Gigi drapes the heavy jacket around Crystal’s shoulders. The jacket is huge on her, probably because Gigi is so much taller than she is, and it envelopes her in warmth. Crystal can’t help but notice that it smells like vanilla - exactly like Gigi.

“Thanks,” Crystal blushes as Gigi leans in closer to her.

“You look really good in my jacket and I really want to kiss you right now,” the blue-eyed girl murmurs matter-of-factly.

Crystal’s face heats up more, and although she’s (kind of) gotten used to hearing compliments from Gigi, her brain still seems to short-circuit whenever Gigi says something sweet.

“Get a room!” Jackie laughs, noticing the romantic tension between the two.

“Maybe we will,” Gigi responds, raising an eyebrow. “Crystal, I think I left something in my car that I need some help with.”

“Oh, yeah, the um… the thing!” Crystal stutters out.

Gigi stands, motioning for Crystal to follow her.

“I’ll see you girls later tonight! And Jan, make sure to be on time for warm-ups today!” Gigi calls out, waving back at Jackie and Jan.

“How much longer do we even have at lunch?” Crystal asks once they’re in the parking lot.

“I don’t know, probably fifteen minutes,” Gigi guesses.

They walk briskly to Gigi’s car, and the second the doors shut behind them, Gigi captures Crystal’s lips in a heated kiss.

Crystal is sure that she’ll never get tired of the way that Gigi’s plump lips move softly against her own or the way that Gigi’s hands feel gripping her hips or the way that Gigi always bites down softly on Crystal’s bottom lip after she lightly drags her tongue across it. It’s all nothing short of magic.

Their kissing becomes increasingly passionate, and before Crystal knows it, Gigi tentatively moves her hands below the older girl’s shirt. Crystal lets out a quiet moan as Gigi’s hands make their way up her hips, her fingertips ghosting over Crystal’s ribcage.

Crystal knows this is all very “high school”; her best friends at home had countless stories about making out - or more - with boys in their cars. Crystal never thought she’d be one of them, but here she was, teenage hormones raging.

Crystal’s breath hitches when Gigi’s fingers brush over the side of her chest. Gigi breaks the kiss, still not moving more than a few centimeters away from Crystal.

“Is… that okay?” she whispers.

Crystal nods, reconnecting their lips.

Gigi hesitantly places one of her hands over Crystal’s breast and gently presses her hand against it, eliciting a slight gasp from the shorter girl. The blonde caresses her chest, and Crystal can feel her heart racing. She can’t think about anything but Gigi: Gigi’s hand moving languidly against the fabric of her bra, the feeling of Gigi’s heartbeat, the taste of Gigi’s breath in her mouth…

They’re interrupted when the lunch bell rings out, loudly enough that the two can hear it even from the confines of Gigi’s car.

“Fuck,” Gigi stammers.

“We should uh, get going,” Crystal attempts to slow her breathing.

“Definitely,” Gigi agrees breathlessly.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

“We should… try that again, not in your car,” Crystal says, her cheeks pink. She almost wants to laugh at how completely and utterly cliché this situation is: if they weren’t both girls, would this not be equivalent to the quintessential high school experience of getting felt up in some boy’s car?

“I’d like that,” Gigi says, regaining her composure. “Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Crystal says, adjusting her shirt.

They walk into the gates of the school, parting ways at the entrance.

Crystal realizes she’s still wearing Gigi’s letterman’s jacket and smiles.

“You did what?!” Jackie yells, wide-eyed.

Crystal and Jackie are sitting in Crystal’s bedroom, getting ready to go to the football game. Crystal could care less about supporting her school’s team, or “school spirit” as Jan referred to it, but she painted purple and white streaks on her cheeks anyways. If anything, she thinks Gigi will find it cute.

“Yeah,” Crystal replies to Jackie sheepishly.

“Weren’t you scared of someone seeing?! Not even a student, but like, a teacher!”

“Not really, my mind was… elsewhere,” Crystal replies honestly.

“You’re braver than I am, I’ll give you that,” Jackie mimics Crystal’s idea, dragging purple and white face paint across her own cheeks. “I’m scared to even kiss Jan on the cheek in the car. Or anywhere on campus.”

“Yeah, it might not have been the most responsible idea, in retrospect,” Crystal admits.

“Just be careful, I’d hate for people to find out about you guys,” Jackie warns.

“I don’t plan on people finding out,” Crystal assures her. “On that topic, what’s the deal with Jan’s mom?”

“What do you mean?”

“She just… knows about you guys? And lets you have sleepovers?” Crystal elaborates.

“Yeah,” Jackie smiles. “I remember the day her mom found out. We were laying in her backyard, drinking smoothies, and her mom was supposed to be at the gym. She got home early, I guess, and saw Jan lean in and kiss me.”

“What did she do?”

“She knocked on the window and Jan completely freaked out. She ran inside, and her mom apparently just asked if we were dating, and Jan tried to say it was nothing and completely innocent. Her mom didn’t buy it, and walked outside and asked me . I can’t lie, and I thought she was angry, so I said yes and offered to leave.”

“Was she mad?”

“Oh god no. She gave Jan a hug, and gave me a hug, and said she was happy that if Jan was going to be dating in high school, it was someone like me. It was the first time I’d ever heard that,” Jackie’s eyes light up.

“That’s insane, and really sweet,” Crystal muses. “My parents are both really great, but I doubt they’d respond like that.”

“Mine definitely wouldn’t. I’d be disowned in a second.”

“I’m sorry, Jackie,” Crystal sympathizes.

“Don’t be. Jan’s mom does a good enough job at making me feel like I’m a part of their family.”

The two spend the rest of the time getting ready in relative silence. Six o’clock rolls around, and the pair make their way downstairs to ask if Crystal’s mom can drop them off. Jackie doesn’t want to deal with parking at school during a football game.

“Hey mom! We’re ready to go,” Crystal tells her.

Her mom looks up at her from the book she’s reading. “Oh honey, you two look adorable !”

“Thanks,” Crystal smiles.

“Do you need me to pick you up?” Crystal’s mom asks.

“No, I think we’re staying over at Jan’s - Gigi will drive.”

“Sounds good!” Crystal’s mom grabs her keys. “Let’s get going, then!”

The car ride is short and sweet; it’s filled with small-talk and her mom’s bad taste in music.

“Have fun and be safe, girls!” Crystal’s mom calls out as the two exit the car.

Crystal waves, telling her mom that she loves her, and sets off towards the bleachers with Jackie.

“So, if I’m being completely honest, I don’t uh, really want to sit in the back the whole time,” Crystal laughs.

“Oh?”

“I mean, I wanna like, cheer on Gigi or whatever,” she says. Crystal is wearing the blonde’s letterman’s jacket, and she feels like the girlfriend of the high school quarterback.

Except she isn’t Gigi’s girlfriend and Gigi is the head cheerleader.

“That’s… cute. Okay, well, fine by me,” Jackie shrugs.

The two sit several rows back from the front, far enough away from the over-zealous fans but close enough that they can still see the field, waiting for the game to start.

“Do you come to these much?” Crystal asks.

“Not as much as Jan would like, I’m sure,” Jackie shares. “I guess now that I have you to come with, I’ll come more.”

“It’s like a reverse double-date, or something,” Crystal laughs. “I never thought I’d be sitting at a football game for a girl .”

“I never thought I’d actually make a friend at this school,” Jackie says seriously, attempting to cover the serious nature of her statement with a laugh.

“Come on, you have other friends, right?”

Jackie shakes her head. “I came out and everyone dropped like flies. That and being the weird Persian kid kind of kills my ability to have a social life.”

“Geeze, I’m sorry, Jackie.”

“Hey, I’ve got you and Jan, and oddly enough, Gigi is back in my life, so I can’t complain, can I?”

The game starts, and all of the football players make their way onto the field. The cheerleaders run out shortly after, and Crystal cranes her neck to see her favorite blonde. She stands front and center, leading both the audience and the squad in chants. Gigi is bubbly and upbeat and in her element; she dances and kicks and does the splits and Crystal is nothing short of amazed by her. Next to her, Jackie smiles at Jan and waves to her several times when the squad has a break. Jan beams up at her, waving back each time.

Crystal couldn’t say who won the game, or how many points were scored; she knows next to nothing about sports and was far more entertained by watching Gigi down on the field than the game itself. When the game is over, she and Jackie make their way down to the field to wait for their respective blondes.

Crystal sees Gigi emerge from the field, a smile painted across her face.

“Gi, you were awesome!” Crystal grins, hugging her.

“I’m glad you had fun!” Gigi says enthusiastically.

“Sorry that I sort of stole your jacket,” Crystal apologizes. “You probably wanted it during the game.”

“It looks much cuter on you,” Gigi winks. “Plus, I kind of like seeing you in my jacket.”

“Gross!” Jan jokes, elbowing Gigi. “Are you lovebirds ready to go?”

“I’m ready,” Crystal nods, and Gigi agrees.

“Great! Mom said she’d order pizza for us all!”

The four head to Gigi’s car; it’s less than a five minute drive to Jan’s house from the school.

Jan’s house is surprisingly large; Crystal isn’t used to the gigantic houses that seem to line the streets in Los Angeles. Jan unlocks the door, yelling to tell her mom that she’s home.

Jan’s mom emerges from the kitchen, approaching the door.

“Hi, sweetie, how was the game?” she hugs Jan.

“It was good, we won!” Jan tells her.

“Hello, Jackie!” Jan’s mom moves to hug her daughter’s girlfriend. “You look adorable with your face painted like that!”

“Thank you! It was Crystal’s idea.”

Jan’s mom turns to look at Crystal. “You must be Crystal, the girls have told me so much about you! It’s so nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too!” Crystal reaches out to shake her hand, and much like her own mother, Jan’s mom pulls her into a hug.

“We’re big on hugs here, handshakes are for strangers!”

Crystal laughs; she thinks her mom would get along swimmingly with Jan’s.

“And Gigi, you don’t get to avoid my hugs, either!” Gigi laughs as she’s wrapped in a hug. “I’m so glad to see that you aren’t third-wheeling with these two anymore!”

“Hey, she never third-wheels!” Jan laughs, faux-scowling at her mom.

“Well, I’m just happy you have a girlfriend, it’ll give you all some super fun double-dates, I’m sure! You make a cute couple!”

“Oh, we’re not gi-” Crystal begins to correct her before Gigi talks.

“Thank you, hopefully Crystal can get Jackie out to more games!” Gigi jokes.

“Let’s hope! Anyways, what kind of pizza do you girls want?”

The four sit on Jan’s living room floor, eating pizza on a mountain of sleeping bags and pillows as It plays in the background. Jackie is cowering into Jan, clearly terrified of the movie that her girlfriend insisted that they watch.

Crystal has seen it before - it’s one of her favorites - and Gigi seems almost as freaked out as Jackie is. The blonde has trapped Crystal’s hand in a death grip and Crystal swears her fingers are losing circulation. She can’t bring herself to care; the sensation of Gigi’s hand in her own is inarguably one of her favorite feelings.

“Why did we have to watch this movie?” Jackie squeaks out. “It’s so… violent.”

“It’s a masterpiece, babe!” Jan debates.

“It’s gory.”

“It’s interesting!”

“Whatever you say, darling,” Jackie says, continuing to hide behind Jan.

Crystal has to stifle a laugh - their exchange is adorably hilarious, and she thinks that they’re perfect for each other. She looks down at Gigi, who has buried her head in Crystal’s arm, and squeezes the blonde’s hand.

Her mind wanders as the movie plays on. Gigi didn’t tell Jan’s mom that they weren’t girlfriends and wonders if Gigi is interested in being exclusive. Crystal hasn’t thought about it much until this point - she’s been enjoying living in the moment with Gigi - but now the thought won’t leave her mind.

She can see herself in a relationship with Gigi easily. They’ll go on dates and fall asleep next to each other and surprise each other with flowers and Crystal will show up at all of Gigi’s cheer events with enthusiasm. She wants to wear the letterman’s jacket every day, and she never wants to go a day without feeling Gigi’s fingers intertwined with her own.

Crystal’s thoughts trail on until the end of the movie. Jackie has fallen asleep in Jan’s lap and Jan is lazily stroking her curly, dark hair as she, too, begins to drift off. Gigi is wide awake, still clutching Crystal’s hand.

“Do you wanna go sit on the porch?” Gigi asks Crystal quietly.

Crystal nods, and the two stand. Gigi has clearly been over to Jan’s house enough that she knows exactly where to go, because she leads Crystal to a sliding glass door. They sit down on the wooden porch in Jan’s backyard, and Crystal lets out a contented sigh as Gigi plants a kiss on her cheek.

“Thanks for coming tonight. It really, really means a lot to me, Crys.”

“Hey, of course. I like watching you, you look so happy when you’re cheering.”

“Not as happy as I am when I’m with you,” Gigi hums.

“That was cheesy,” Crystal jokes, wrapping her arm around the blonde.

“Look what you’ve done to me, Crystal Elizabeth. You’ve turned me into a complete dork! I’m almost as bad as Jan!” Gigi jokes.

Crystal can feel butterflies fluttering around in her stomach when Gigi uses her middle name - it feels like a term of endearment.

“Who said dorky was a bad thing? I happen to think your dorky comments are adorable - or should I say, adorkable!” Crystal laughs.

“Okay, now that was bad,” Gigi snorts.

“You love it.”

“I know.”

The two sit in silence, wrapped up in each other’s arms, enjoying the cool night air.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something,” Gigi breaks the silence.

“What’s up?” Crystal asks.

“I hate to be that girl that asks this question, but like… what is this?”

Crystal doesn’t know how to answer - she doesn’t know what will be too much for Gigi and doesn’t want to scare the girl off. She doesn’t want to look inexperienced and over-eager.

“I, uh, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it,” Crystal lies.

“Oh.”

“Not that I don’t want to think about it!” Crystal quickly follows up. “What do you think this is?”

“Hey, not fair! I asked you first!” Gigi giggles.

“I mean, I really like you. Enough that I went to my first high school football game in four years for you.”

“I really like you too, Crystal.”

“So…” Crystal trails off, avoiding the question she knows she needs to ask.

“You’re going to make me be the one to say it, aren’t you?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Crystal feigns innocence.

“Crystal, I want you to be my girlfriend,” Gigi declares.

Crystal presses a light kiss on Gigi’s lips before replying.

“Gi, I want nothing more than to be your girlfriend.”

Gigi leans her head on Crystal’s shoulder and throws her arms around the older girl’s waist. Crystal runs her fingers through her blonde hair, pressing gentle kisses to the top of her head as the two sit in a comfortable quietness.

Crystal can’t think of anything better than this.

#rpdr fanfiction #gigi goode #crystal methyd #jackie cox #jan sport #crygi #high school au #lesbian au #ms california #mik #concrit welcome #(please review formatting guides. thanks! -v)#s12

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