It is summer. Outside the inn, the cicadas have quieted and it’s the crickets that take over, white noise, white music, lulling the boys to sleep. The breaths of heavy sleep can be heard alongside the whir of the fan passing over the room. It smells of tatami mats and Kaminari’s feet, one foot poking Bakugou’s upper arm. His snores sound like whines, just irritating enough that Bakugou’s resting face is that of a scowl.
He considers shoving Kaminari, or more likely, kicking him, but that would require moving, and all four limbs are distant from Bakugou, heavy as concrete and unmovable as the komainu guards that stood outside the inn. He should be sleeping. He needs to be sleeping. Tomorrow, the training camp begins.
Still, there’s the expectant air of something about to happen–the moment before a match is lit, a breath held in until lungs burst, a pause of silence between songs. The room is scattered with pillows and blankets from a pillow fight two hours ago, and the room is heavy with a sense of contentment, apparent in the way Tokoyami cocoons himself in his blanket and Midoriya rests a hand on Iida’s chest. Shouji’s arms splayed out wide and Aoyama with his eyemask on.
Bakugou is wired–restless energy from the pillow fight? Fresh, summer air? Or the tension of training camps past, of being stolen away by villains in the dark.
Bakugou sits up, cards his fingers through his hair.
There’s a beat of silence, and then, “You’re awake?”
Todoroki’s voice is barely above a whisper, dream-like and soft, volume concealed by the sound of the fan. A breeze passes over Bakugou, making his hair flutter. Two sleepers over, Todoroki’s hair ruffles, too. He sits up.
“Go to sleep, idiot,” Bakugou hisses. “I’m not staying up.”
“You feel it, too.”
Bakugou holds his breath. He lets out a louder sigh than he intends. Lying back down, he turns his back on Todoroki. “Doesn’t matter. Night.”
The hair on the back of his neck prickles. He hears the telltale sound of a comforter being pushed back and the gentle thumping of movement across the mats.
If I close my eyes and go to sleep, he will go away, Bakugou thinks.
He manages to ignore Todoroki for a grand total of three minutes before he shoves back his own comforter and sits up, teeth pulled away from his gums. “What.”
Todoroki is sitting seiza at the foot of his bed. “You’re awake,” he says.
“‘Cause I can feel you breathing down my neck, shitstick. Take a hike and get out of my bed.”
“We should welcome in summer together,” Todoroki says.
“Do you actually ever listen to people?” Bakugou asks.
“I used to do it with my sister,” he says. “I’m too restless to go to sleep. So are you.”
“I’ll have you know I love sleeping,” Bakugou says. “Get tucked in real fucking tight, snug as bug in his own fucking rug, away from creepy sleep-watchers and their weird-ass ideas.”
“You feel it,” Todoroki says. “Katsuki.”
Bakugou’s breath catches. “I told you not to–even if it’s dire–”
Todoroki holds up one finger, and a tiny flame lights from the end of it. Bakugou flinches. The candlelight reflects in Todoroki’s odd-colored eyes, shiny as glass. It lights a dull glow across molten, scarred skin, bumpy and rough-around-the-edges as the scar’s owner. It casts a shadow across the shape of Todoroki’s mouth, just too close to not-not-smiling to make it hard to look at him.
“Fine,” Bakugou says.
“Repeat after me,” Todoroki says. “Welcome, cicadas.”
“Welcome, cicadas,” Bakugou mutters.
“Welcome–this is so fucking stupid.”
“Just do it.”
A grunt. “Welcome, crickets.”
“Welcome, sunb–you’re fucking with me. You’re actually just fucking with me. Is this even a family tradition?”
Todoroki really smiles now, one edge of his mouth turning up and his eyes crinkling. Bakugou moves his glare from Todoroki’s face to the fire at the tip of his finger.
Suddenly, the light goes out.
“Wh–” Bakugou starts.
“We have to seal it,” Todoroki says. “Seal the welcome.” His voice is much, much softer. Bakugou leans forward a little to catch his words.
“Seal it? How? Wait, why the fuck do I care? It’s bull–” Todoroki’s fingers feather along Bakugou’s jaw and he jerks away upon contact, heart racing. Todoroki’s hands hover in the no man’s land between their bodies for a moment. When he moves forward again, leaning forward on his knees, Bakugou doesn’t move. His fingers settle along Bakugou’s cheekbones, pinkies curling under his chin. The callouses on his fingers make Bakugou’s skin tingle. They’re not soft hands, but the hands of a hero and a hard-worker–someone who poured blood, sweat, and tears into his craft.
Through the moonlight that seeps into the room, Bakugou can make out the smile on Todoroki’s face. “We seal it with a kiss.”
Bakugou’s heart stutters. He scowls. He didn’t remember giving it permission to do that.
He feels Todoroki’s exhale as he breathes out. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” Todoroki says.
Bakugou’s hand has found its way to his shirt, clutching at the material over his chest. He doesn’t remember telling it to do that, either. “This is stupid,” he mutters. “This is stupid, you’re stupid, this whole thing is,” he takes a breath, “fucking stupid.”
Todoroki presses his forehead to Bakugou’s, their noses brushing. “Kiss me, Katsuki,” he says again. And then, “Please.”
Shut up, shut up, shut up, Bakugou thinks, and he pecks Todoroki on the mouth lightning quick.
“There,” he says. “Sealed.”
“Okay,” Todoroki says.
“It’s just for your stupid summer tradition,” Bakugou says. “That’s all.”
“Which is still bullshit, by the way.”
“And it doesn’t mean anything, so don’t go telling Deku about…whatever.”
“And–” Bakugou says, but the words are slipping from his mind because Todoroki’s thumb is on his bottom lip and he can feel the puff of Todoroki’s breath not even an inch from his mouth and Todoroki’s eyes are half-lidded, and it’s all just very warm, and without really giving it much thought, he’s kissing Todoroki.
Todoroki’s fingers are rough but his mouth is soft, none of the sharp words he wields when he picks fights with Bakugou, a choice insult thrown in like a dagger to the side, no, this–this is the smile he wears when he’s helpful to a classmate, the brush of his hair against Bakugou’s palm when he swipes at him while dueling, the press of his cheek on Bakugou’s shoulder when he falls asleep on him on the train.
This is I know you and I have yet to know you and I want to know you, the questioning tilt of Todoroki’s head and the suggestion of tongue. They don’t French but they do kiss, the sound sweet as a cricket’s song when they part. Bakugou thinks he’s in a fever dream, even though the height of summer has yet to arrive and the fan still blows cool air across them every now and then. He feels that if he stops kissing Todoroki he will wake up and it will have never happened.
When Todoroki parts from him, he whispers, “Welcome, summer.”
Peter parker was gorgeous. Peter was a good person. Peter was a good student. Peter was your good teamate cum friend. Peter was a monster.
You had been harbouring a crush on the dark haired, goofy, perfectly built boy in the day and suoprhero by the night. And it just never helped that he loved teasing you. A lot.
You were reading “the mortal instruments”. It was a friday night, the night you would relax and unwind. The common room was quite and cool. Cozy and snug as a bug, you were coming to a much awaited plot twist when your precious book was snatched from you mercilessly.
“what the-” you sat up on the sofa and found a grinning peter with your book. His naughty side seemed to come put just for you. “Peter fucking Parker, give me my book.” you threatened.
“oh, sure” he offered you the book but quickly took it back as soon as you reached to take it. Why did you like that asshole at the first place?
“give. Me. My. Book.” you stood up from the sofa and stood right infront of him.
“take it from me.” he said and started moving the book everywhere. He was too fast, you couldn’t get the book. You stopped, stomped and huffed.
“oh, bite me!” you said in frustration. There was a glint of michief in his eues before he kept the book aside, moved so close to you that your faces where only inches apart.
“where?” he tilted his head and kept his hands on either sides of the sofa. A tiny gasp left your lips.
“i-, um, what-” you stuttered. Your cheeks burned, you could feel the warmth his body radiated. You could smell his deodorant and the spearmint on his breath.
“you gotta tell me where… ” he looked in your eyes before trailing his eyes on your neck and collar bones.
“peter-” you breathed. You couldn’t move. Ypu were frozen at your place, his eues had you pinned.
There was a loud clearing of throat and you peter moved away. You finally took a breath. Upon turning you found steve standing by the door frame with his arms crossed. Peter smiled at him and started walking away.
“have a nice night , mr. Rogers.” he smiled at him. He turned to you and gave you a wink. “you too.” he mouthed before he left.
Frodo was inconsolable and there was little to be done about it.
“Sweetpea,” Bilbo tried.
Frodo only sobbed in response.
“It’s all right,” Bilbo said.
Frodo shook his head and cried a little harder; he did not believe Bilbo. Not at all.
“Frodo, please,” Bilbo pleaded.
Frodo heaved with his sobs. “But … but … he died!”
Bilbo sighed. “Yes … I know, sweetie, but–”
Frodo shook his head again. “The king died!”
Bilbo closed eyes and cursed his foolishness; he should never have read the ending to Frodo. “I know.”
“It’s … it’s … not fair!”
“No. No, it’s not fair. But that’s the lesson to learn.”
“Change it! Make him live again!”
Bilbo hung his head; it was going to be a very long night.
“What’s going on?!”
Frodo was up like a shot and ran to Thorin, who had just come through the front door. He clung on to the former Dwarf-king as a drowning man held on to the only thing that would keep him from going under. Thorin was even more confused than when he’d come upon Frodo sobbing and demanding something be changed, that someone live again.
“Who died?” Thorin asked, bending down to wrap Frodo up in his arms.
Bilbo gave Thorin a look that didn’t need words.
“You read him your story?!” Thorin hissed out, while Frodo buried his face in Thorin’s beard. At least the boys sobs were easing.
“I thought he understood it was only a story!”
“Truly? You want a five-year-old to understand that?”
Bilbo sighed out a huff. “Well, it’s not like it’s what really happened!”
Frodo’s tears were subsiding but he tightened his hold on Thorin all the same.
“It’s all right, ghivashel,” Thorin said, softly. He cradled Frodo gently to him, rocking the boy just a little. “I’m right here. I’m all right. I told you I was coming back.”
Frodo sniffled and pushed back so that he could look Thorin. He little eyes searched over the face and beard he knew and loved so well. But he said, almost to himself, “But Mummy and Daddy said they’d come back too.”
Frodo broke into more sobs and once again, buried his face in Thorin’s beard, holding on tight to the Uncle he feared he’d loose.
Thorin gave Bilbo a rather heated glare and, to his credit, Bilbo looked appropriately remorseful.
“I think it’s time for someone to be in bed,” Thorin said, gently.
Frodo sniffled and asked, not looking up, “Can I sleep with you?”
Thorin closed his eyes and begged for strength; it would mean a somewhat sleepless night. So, of course, he said, “Absolutely.”
Not a half-hour later, Bilbo, Thorin and Frodo were all snug in the big bed in Bag End’s Master Bedroom. Frodo was sound asleep, snug as a bug, in between his two Uncles, who were not asleep.
“Why,” Thorin whispered, “for Mahal’s sake, did you read him that ending?!”
“He asked!” Bilbo insisted. “I tried to put him off but he kept pestering me about it!”
“And you couldn’t have told him the truth?! That Everyone lived; no one died?!”
Bilbo rolled his eyes. “The deaths at the end are poignant! They drive home the moral of the story!”
Thorin made a disbelieving face. “And he couldn’t have learned that with knowing the truth?!”
Bilbo huffed. “Everyone got better, the king and burglar admitted their stupidity then argued over the king tossing away his crown, before they moved to The Shire to shack up and cause a minor scandal in Hobbiton .. does not have quite the same impact as the King and his nephews dying!”
“Well … go tell that to the dead King!”
“Keep it up and I will be!”
Believe it or not, this is my first little fic that I wrote just on Tumblr!!
Summary: (Y/N) and Clay had an intention to finish their project. Would they be successful on doing it?
Word count: 1.270
Posted: 21st of April 2017
A/N: I am so overwhelmed for the feedbacks I am receiving for my previous imagines with Clay and I would like to thank you for the support. I love you as much as I love this cinnamon roll and I am so inspired to write 13 reasons why imagines. Thank you for everything guys and I love you all.
P.S.: My requests for 13 reasons why are OPEN!
- G. x
Warning: (Y/E/C) is Your Eye Colour.
It has been a long and tiring day at school and to top it, you still had some projects to finish with your project buddy and best friend, Clay Jensen.
“Are you tired?” Clay worriedly asked you after he saw you yawning for the hundredth time now. “We can do it some other day, if you want. The due of the project is two weeks from now.”
“No,” You smiled at him as he was so caring and thoughtful. “it’s fine, Clay.”
“Are you sure?” He assured as he parked your bike beside his.
“I am sure, Clay!” You playfully slapped him with your black binders and you rolled your eyes as he was starting to annoy you.
“Alright, alright.” He huffed as he gave up on reassuring you. He then looked at you, pretending to be annoyed because of your actions. “Fine then.”
“Finally,” You were relieved when you both headed to his house’s doorstep. “thank God.”
“What? Finally, we are home or finally, I stopped annoying you?” He raised an eyebrow as he opened the door with his keys.
“Both!” You honestly answered and you both entered the Jensen’s home laughing and guffawing, as if something was really funny about it.
“It seems like you are both happy.” You heard a sweet voice coming from the living room.
“At least, you are honest.” He winked at you but quickly turned his head to the living room as he saw his Mum staring at him. “Oh mum, don’t you have any work for today?”
“I wanted to bring these stuffs at home.” She waved some papers that were in her hands and you noticed Clay shaking his head. You then carefully looked around the house. It was clean and perfectly in order. “(Y/N)?”
“Oh, yup!” Clay smiled a little bit and he pulled you to enter the living room with him. You hated him at that moment since you were somehow shy, of course, but you quickly felt comfortable and at home when you saw his mother smiling.
“Lainie!” You smiled at her and she smiled back at you. You met Clay’s mother during the parents’ meeting at your school. “How are you?”
“I’m stressed for works and for my rebellious son right here.” She pointed at the messy piles of papers on her desk and then at Clay. You just laughed as you saw Clay pouting.
“I can imagine.” You nodded, agreeing for what she has just said. “Clay’s been stressing me too.”
“What?!” Clay looked at you and he pretended to be offended for what you have just confessed. His mum laughed and you flashed him an apologetic smile as he rolled his eyes in response.
“Mum, we’re finishing our assigned project in my room.” Clay then said, turning serious as he changed the topic.
“Sure.” Lainie smiled and you flashed her a sweet smile, before you headed to the stairs with Clay. “(Y/N), does it bother you having dinner with us?”
“Of course not, I would voluntarily join you.” You kindly said and you noticed Clay smiling widely while he stood beside you. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” Lainie sympathetically answered and Clay started going upstairs. “Clay?”
“Mum?” He suddenly stopped in the middle of the stair and you almost bumped him.
“Leave your room’s door open.” You giggled at hearing his mum’s reminder.
“Oh my God, Mum!” Clay whined and it made you laugh even more. He continued going upstairs and he led you to his room, leaving the door open like what his mother has reminded him. “Idiot, you are having so much fun here, eh?”
“Oh, shut up Jensen!” You flashed him a death glare as you carelessly plopped your things on his desk. “Shall we start?” Your gaze softened and he flashed you his flat smile, nodding.
“Yup.” He shortly answered and he started to get the materials that you needed to conclude your project.
You both spent the time doing your project, but it didn’t mean that you were serious and deadpan. He kept on doing silly things to make you laugh and to keep you awake. Clay Jensen – that adorable and dorky man that you’ve always liked because he was himself whenever you were with him. Who wouldn’t love him? Everybody would.
“Clay, you are an idiot!” You exclaimed when he poked fun of himself.
“It’s true that you considered me as a nerd when you first met me. Don’t lie.” He ranted as he was trying to cut a piece of paper for the almost finished project.
“It’s not true!” You lied through your teeth. He was right, you really considered him as one of those nerds, one of those good-looking nerds.
“I would kiss you so you would shut your mouth up!” Clay blurted out and your eyes both grew wide. You looked at him putting his scissors and paper down on the floor and he looked straight into your (Y/E/C) orbs.
“Clay?” You stopped yourself from doing anything and you stared at Clay as he bit his red bottom lip. He was shocked too, but he perfectly knew that he couldn’t take his words back anymore.
He created an awkward pace between the two of you, but then you suddenly found yourself closing your eyes and leaning forward, maybe copying Clay’s actions too.
A little moment later, you felt two soft lips on yours and you both slowly deepened the kiss, him constantly pulling your body closer to him. He caressed your cheek as he lingered the taste that your lips allowed and you had your arms wrapped around his neck. You felt some sort of sparks and nervousness, even though you imagined this scene in your head for uncountable times now.
He was about to close the door, but you both heard some footsteps and you suddenly broke the kiss, both scared to be caught.
“Guys, dinner is ready.” You both looked where the deep voice came from and you both nodded, still astonished for the happening between the two of you. Matt, Clay’s father, had a smirk on his face before going back downstairs and you wondered if he saw everything.
“C’mon?” You nodded as your thoughts faded away and you both followed his father. “That was perfect.” You flashed him an embarrassed but happy smile.
“It was.” You agreed as you both entered the dining room. You could bet that you saw Clay blushing and smiling widely, you couldn’t be wrong with that.
When you entered the room, you saw his parents smiling widely and you both got into your places, so you could start having your dinner.
“How’s your project going on?” Lainie has asked with a bright smile on her face. You looked at Clay, giving him the cue that it was his turn to answer.
“Fine, it’s almost finished.” Clay has said as he tried to chew his food slowly.
“Oh, project?” Matt has asked and you noticed Clay widened his eyes. “Your project consists of kissing and cuddling?”
“Dad!” Clay protested and you both became crimson red in your face and you felt a burning sensation in your whole body. You were embarrassed and dumbfounded.
“Congrats!” His parents said in unison and they both laughed as they saw your reaction. Clay then caressed your hand under the table to calm you down and you both laughed together with his parents.
“Another reason why my door should be shut.” Clay jokingly said. “Always.”
“You have a point in there, buddy!” His father agreed and you all laughed as you felt more relaxed, welcomed and snugged as a bug in a rug.
Scout: -Loves, loves, loves playing baseball with s/o or doing anything with them even if his s/o isn’t athletic -Unlike RED Scout, he’s a little shy about his relationship; not upfront -His Ma LOVES you! Expect frequent invites to dinner and him really trying to avoid you meeting his siblings -Doesn’t like to be left alone for a second, will want constant attention
Soldier: -Likes to pick you up and carry you -Can’t cook worth shit so expect take out or toast for dinner, maybe the occasional meatloaf -He gets flowers for you but they’re usually ones ripped right of the ground with the dirt and roots still attached -Hope you like coffee because every morning he’ll make sure you and him drink morning coffee together
Pyro: -Quality boy, 10/10 -lots of cuddles and mask ‘kisses’; total snug bug -He likes to get his s/o little gifts that he makes, like macaroni art! -Doesn’t understand a lot of things about relationships, though
Demoman: -This man will never be sober, but he’ll try for you -Likes to tell you ‘daring’ stories about his haunted eye socket and everything his team does -He doesn’t like showin’ you to his mum too often ‘cause he gets embarrassed easily by her -expect nice gifts
Heavy: -You’re likely smaller than him and he thinks it’s cute -A fan of literature so he hopes you like reading with him -Will cook warm, and nice Russian meals for the both of you -He’ll stumble over words so he mostly calls you by Russian nicknames
Engineer: -He likes to serenade you with his guitar, sometimes bringing out his fiddle -He’s more confident in your relationship unlike RED Engineer, proudly calling you his in front of people -Nicknames consist of ‘darling’, ‘pudding’, and ‘honeybee’ -Likes the idea of raising a family one day
Medic: -Unlike RED, he’s not gonna try and experiment on you..he’s more of the friendly doctor -Rather annoying as he chastises you for small things, like eating too much chocolate -Will try and get you into a nurse costume, just once, please– -Rather ‘new’ to the relationship show biz, but he’s trying
Spy: -Only the best and most expensive gifts, of course -Disappears day on ends and feels bad; makes it up with bringing home dinner or something -Rather flirtatious, but backs off if flirted back with (he’s a little shy) -He pampers constantly
Sniper: -Has never kissed anyone, he fumbles a lot -He doesn’t really ‘move in’ to your house, just parks his van outside -Rather soft spoken compared to his RED counterpart; He usually makes romantic comments rather than sexual ones -Nicknames are mostly animal ones like ‘Wombat’, ‘Bug’, and ‘Wasp’ if you’re being feisty