or a snug bug

Project?

Originally posted by sethkates


Pairing: Clay Jensen x Reader

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.


candles

(this is for sen she killed me)


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, crickets.”

“Welcome–this is so fucking stupid.”

“Just do it.”

A grunt. “Welcome, crickets.”

“Welcome, fireflies.”

“Welcome, fireflies.”

“Welcome, watermelons.”

“Welcome, watermelons.”

“Welcome, sunburn.”

“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.”

“Okay.”

“Which is still bullshit, by the way.”

“Okay.”

“And it doesn’t mean anything, so don’t go telling Deku about…whatever.”

“Okay.”

“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.”

Bakugou whispers, “Welcome, summer.”

*as i wrap myself into the blankets, age 50* SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG! SNUG AS A BUG IN A RUG!

Snug As a Bug

Thank you, @angellecookiewingz, for the prompt:

“You really want to know my secret identity?…. Well I’m not only Ladybug, I’m also secretly a girl in love… with you.”

I messed with it a little and spaced it out for this drabble. Hope you like it!

AO3


“Do you really want to know my secret identity?” Ladybug asked one night, laying with her head on Alya’s chest. Her fingers curled into claws, holding onto the cloth of her girlfriend’s shirt as if she were trying to keep her from leaving. The sound of a heartbeat filled one ear, and her head moved with the gentle, soothing motions of Alya’s breathing. Her own breathing was soft and silent, her heartbeat fluttering each time her girlfriend’s fingers combed through her hair.

Said fingers paused, the tips just barely resting on Ladybug’s forehead. The careful movement resumed after a few long seconds, but there was no other response indicating Alya had heard her.

Ladybug tried again, “I’m not only a hero, you know. I’m a teen, too.”

“I know,” Alya whispered, voice softer than Ladybug’s breaths.

“I’m a girl who’s secretly in love with you,” she continued, unable to stop her rambling, “and a girl that can’t tell you she is, not truly. I dunno why. I’m confident, and I’m brave, and I can’t tell you.”

Alya hushed her, and used her spare hand to cover one of Ladybug’s. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve told you a thousand times that I am going to love whoever is under that mask.”

“And I don’t doubt that!” she exclaimed in a louder tone. A pressure on the hand Alya had covered made her voice go quiet again. “I don’t think you’ll really have a problem with who I am underneath. I mean, you like me enough.”

“I do?” her girlfriend asked, surprised. “So I already know you, then?”

“Oh.” Ladybug’s fingers tightened their hold marginally. “Yeah, you do. That’s not weird, is it?”

Silence. And then, “I think it actually makes our situation better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like… That implies I know you even more than I do now, which is great. And it probably won’t be odd because we’ll know each other and nobody will question it, if that makes sense.” The hand that slid through the heroine’s hair hovered over her bangs before brushing them from the girl’s face. She tucked what she could behind her ear and then started to curl some strands around her fingers in a hypnotized manner.

Ladybug hummed, adjusting her head just enough to qualify as leaning into the touch. She didn’t reply, and instead soaked in the presence of her girlfriend. She took a deep breath in through her nose, smelling the comforting scent of peaches and hazelnut, as well as an underlying trace of coffee. It was familiar, as familiar as the smell of cookies and croissants were. But where those tended to excite and motivate her, the smells that clung to Alya put Ladybug at ease, allowing her to melt into each touch, each whisper, each breath that graced her skin.

As the quiet in the room persisted, the steady rhythms of their hearts began to slow. Ladybug’s eyes drooped, and she could feel the momentum of Alya’s fingers slowing down before they halted completely, still lying tangled in her hair. When she was certain that her girlfriend was asleep, Ladybug sighed and grabbed the hand that still covered hers. Her thumb brushed across her knuckles before she lifted the limp hand and settled her lips on its palm. She admitted, it was an odd habit she’d developed, but whispering to the hand of her significant other felt like making a promise.

She’d made many promises to the sleeping form of her best friend.

“One day,” she whispered, sleep slurring her words. “One day, I’ll tell you. But ‘til then, this is enough.” Pressing a kiss to the palm, she smiled. “Love you.” Her eyes fluttered shut, and the rising and falling of Alya’s chest lulled her into a peaceful sleep.