“My mood inspires my style, so each day is usually a different look. I just like when people look different from each other and, more importantly, when people look like themselves; comfortable in their style. Now I’m wearing a mustard short sleeve button down from H&M, rinse black joggers from Urban Outfitters, a black leather jacket, black and green ombre round beads, warm brown ankle boots. Round iridescent shades from Forever 21. ”
Currently harbouring a quiet fantasy about Martin with his beautifully sun-kissed skin emerging out of the water in nothing more than swim togs Bond-style, and while striding forth, allowing us to bask in his toned, tanned thighs and calves, that svelte brown body dotted with beads of water, and sweat, trickling over him. Trailing the angled lines of his hips, gathering around his crotch, glistening in the light as he shifts. Just to tease us that little bit more, he licks his lips, taking his sweet agonising time to comb his fingers through his peppery grey ocean-slicked swoopy do 👅👅👅👀👀👌😍👍
Palms are Sweaty, Knees Weak, Arms are Heavy | A Kacchako Drabble
I started thinking about how Bakugou’s quirk is tied to his sweaty hands, and then this happened. Let me know what you think!
Summary: A classroom science project flirts with disaster when Bakugou can’t stop sweating.
For what felt like the twelfth time, Bakugou discreetly rubbed his palms on the fabric of his pants. But when he replaced them back on his desk, they were still as sopping wet as before.
Fuck, he thought. Bakugou glanced at Uraraka through his periphery, and the heat beneath the skin of his palms blazed anew. Grunting, he wiped them on his pants again. What the hell is wrong with me?
Bakugou was a guy who sweat a lot. Call it an occupational hazard–with a quirk like his, sweating bullets kept him ready for combat at all times. It was just common sense. Yeah it got a little gross, especially in the summer, but that was what deodorant was for. As far as quirk drawbacks go, it was no big deal.
“Maybe we should make a pyramid,” Uraraka said. “If the egg is nestled in the middle, it probably won’t break. Can you hand me the masking tape?”
He didn’t “hand” her a damn thing. Instead, he balanced the masking tape on its side and rolled it across the desk in her direction. Uraraka, unrelentingly bubbly, caught it with a smile and ripped off a small piece before putting it back. Growing quiet and focused, she stuck her tongue out the corner of her mouth and fastened two plastic straws together.
Bakugou didn’t bother to suppress as scowl as he wiped his hands again, a little more roughly this time.
The egg drop assignment was simple. After being randomly paired up, the students had to use plastic straws, masking tape, and paper towels to construct a device that would protect an egg from a steep fall. Once their structure was complete, the teams would literally drop their creations off the roof, one by one, to see if the egg would shatter.
While this was a pretty standard school assignment, it still had a U.A. “plus ultra” spin. Since heroes had use creative problem solving in the field, they were allowed to use their quirks in class. Obviously, this meant some people had an immediate edge. Sero could produce infinite tape from his goddamn elbows, and Yaoyoruzu was able to create straws made from reinforced plastic from her own body.
But the student with the greatest advantage was definitely Uraraka, who would just erase the egg’s gravity and slowly lower it to the ground. When Bakugou was paired with her, he thought the project would be a cake walk. There was literally no way he could fail.
This was before his own body turned traitor.
He clenched his fists, and exhaled. If he was get this egg drop bullshit over with, he had to stop acting like Uraraka was radioactive or something, clammy hands be damned. Just grab the roll of tape, stick some straws together, repeat.
Bakugou held the masking tape between his fingers and ripped of a piece with a swift motion. Like flint striking steel, a lick of heat burst from his hands, fueled by the enormous pool of sweat on his palm. A small explosion rippled across his skin, and he clamped his hands tightly together to keep it from escaping. The class heard only a muffled boom and a clap.
Certain that he had snuffed it out, Bakugou opened his hands. The tape he was handling was reduced to a sticky, melted brown mess.
Tiny beads of sweat began collecting at his hairline and the nape of his neck. Even the soles of his feet felt hot. What the fuck. This sort of flare up hadn’t happened to him since he was a kid. What is going on? Why am I like this?
That last question was a dangerous line of thought, one he gladly left the fuck alone.
“That’s a good idea,” Uraraka said, looking at the plasticy puddle in his hand. “We can just melt the straws together into a parachute for the egg.”
Bakugou nodded and mumbled that he was working on exactly that. Better to let her believe what had happened was one hundred percent calculated.
In the end, Uraraka only erased the gravity of the basket, not the egg. Since gravity still acted upon the egg, the entire thing steadily descended to the ground. The parachute of melted multicolor plastic added wind resistance to slow the egg’s fall, and the basket cushioned the impact once it landed.
When they returned to the ground floor to inspect their work, Uraraka pumped both fists in the air.
“We did it!” Uraraka exclaimed. Their egg was one of the only ones to have made it safely back to earth. “High five!”
The image of his quirk activating the moment his slick palm touched hers, blowing Uraraka away in an instant, came unbidden to Bakugou.
“I’ve got plastic shit all over them still,” he replied. A half truth.
Of course, this didn’t disappoint Uraraka in the slightest. “Aw, don’t sweat it! Thanks for everything!”
When class concluded, he waited until she was out of sight before he rubbed his palms on his pants again.
New series~~~ Ik having many at once may not be the best idea but inspiration hit me like a truck :“) Some notes; Tildes (~) represent scene changes like in a TV show, for example, and if you have anxiety and reading about panic attacks may trigger you, stay away from the part I’ve marked with 2 asterisks (**) - the story should still make sense without that part and I don’t wanna cause anyone panic or stress because ik how horrifying that can be! That’s all from me, hope you all like! FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED ♥
Tattoo Artist!Yoongi is crushed on by both his best friend, cheery barista!Hoseok and shy florist!Jimin, although he’s painfully oblivious to both. Namjoon is a struggling poet / writer with depression and anxiety who is desperately trying to get published whilst his fiancé, music label CEO Seokjin is doing everything in his power to aid and support him. Taehyung is a busker trying to sign a contract with Jin’s company and Jungkook is a fitness trainer at the gym next to Hoseok’s work who has a (not so) little crush on Jimin himself ;3 Slice of life / drama kinda thing hehe, mainly focused on Yoongi
“Yah, hold still!”
“But I don’t like needles! What if it hurts?!”
“It will fucking hurt if you don’t stop squirming…”
“This was a bad idea!”
“Don’t worry~ I’ll try be gentle, let me take your tattoo virginity~~”
“Wow. Way to make it weird Yoongs.”
Rambunctious laughter filled the small, dimly lit room in which two best friends sat. One bore midnight black hair and matching eyes, tattoos covering the exposed skin of his arms and parts of his neck whilst the other was clear of ink, chocolate brown hair beading with sweat as he glanced at the tattoo gun grasped in the gloved hand of his companion. Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok had been practically inseparable since elementary school, growing together all the way up to college, and had then even gotten jobs in neighboring buildings on a busy street in centre Seoul. Yoongi ran a small tattoo parlor, living in the little apartment above the shop and oftentimes finding himself staying with Hoseok due to money problems whilst his best friend was the most popular barista at the coffee shop next door, his cheerful and exuberant personality completely rivalling Yoongi’s closed off, cold attitude towards life. Introvert versus extrovert, constant smiles versus resting bitch face, and so on. But as they say, opposites attract…
And Hoseok was inexplicably attracted to Yoongi.
He’d kept his feelings hidden for far too long, and it had gotten to the point where every time they hung out he felt like his chest was going to burst with the way it fluttered. Yoongi was absolutely oblivious to Hoseok’s adoration, although the latter was sure his feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated, so as it usually went Hoseok stayed safe and preserved their current friendship by instead keeping quiet and relishing in the time they spent together.
“Why did you pick this design?” Yoongi asked in a mutter, bringing Hoseok from his loving daydream and bringing his focus to the scratchy, burning feeling he felt on his shoulder as the needle permanently marked his supple skin. It was simple line art, as daring as Hoseok was willing to get, portraying Saturn surrounded by stars.
“Well,” Hoseok coughed, chewing on the inside of his cheek as to distract himself from the mild pain. “The planet represents me.” he started thoughtfully with a soft smile. “And the stars represent-” You. He wanted to say, he wanted to tell him exactly what the tattoo meant to him, what he meant to him. “The stars represent my friends. And how supportive you all are. Remember back in college with the depression and everything? I don’t think I’d be doing so well now if it weren’t for everyone in the dorm.”
“I may throw up,” Yoongi deadpanned, face slowly morphing into a smirk. “But that’s adorable.” he wiped at the design, slowly drawing to a close on the last star. “Does that mean one of the stars is me?” All the cheesy lines Hoseok wanted to utter right then fell bitter on his tongue and he sighed, his gaze that moved to Yoongi so fond he may as well have hung the stars himself.
“Of course.” he settled for instead, quiet voice dissipating into a silence that was anything but comfortable as the machine Yoongi held also fell mute.
“It’s done. It’s nice, if I do say so myself.” The elder grinned as he covered it over, taking a quick photo on his phone to show Hoseok who beamed in delight.
“It’s beautiful! I knew I was right to trust you!” In his ecstasy he pulled Yoongi to him in a tight hug before he could think twice, Yoongi’s eyes widening in surprise but his arms winding around the other’s form nonetheless. Hoseok prayed his crush couldn’t feel the way his heart hammered so ruthlessly against his ribcage. He didn’t realise Yoongi’s sudden silence was due to how flustered he was with Hoseok so close to him.
As Hoseok drew back, hoping the blush dusting his tanned cheeks wouldn’t be showing, the sound of the door clicking open coursed through the room and in entered the candyfloss-pink haired florist from the shop across the street.
“Hey, Jimin,” Yoongi hummed, packing away his kit and cleaning the small table on which it rested in his preparation to close up. Jimin smiled at them both, eyes lingering on Yoongi perhaps a little longer than they should before travelling down to Hoseok’s still exposed back.
“Wow, Hoseok finally let you tattoo him?” He asked in astonishment, drawing a smug smile from the artist responsible.
“Nice, huh? It’s pretty meaningful, too. I’m pretty proud, which is unusual.” Yoongi laughed, Jimin joining in shyly.
“It’s amazing~” Jimin drawled, advancing and looking over it closer up. “You really are talented, hyung.” Yoongi may have missed his enamored tone and sickly sweet look but Hoseok didn’t, a small ripple of terror running through him. He’d had suspicions; Jimin wasn’t as great in concealing his blind affection as he was, but even so he hadn’t considered him that much of a rival. Besides, he’d known Yoongi way longer and as far as he was aware they were way closer. But then again, that may have been his downfall. His mind was conflicted, partly optimistic because he and Yoongi were as close as brothers, but also pessimistic as that could mean he was stuck in the so called ‘friendzone’. Jimin looked over at him and smiled, though there was a tinge of malice behind it as he realised he had competition.
“Jin, baby, you’re gonna miss your train.” Fixing the lapels of his suit Kim Seokjin looked down at his fiancé, who perched on the end of their shared bad trying to calm his breathing.
“I have plenty of time,” he sighed in response, smiling softly and joining Namjoon on the neatly made sheets. “Besides. If I’m having breakfast and my soon-to-be husband is having a panic attack and I just leave him to handle it alone so I can go to work then what kind of husband am I?” Namjoon didn’t even try to properly process what Seokjin told him, world still spinning and vision still blurry as his boyfriend guided his head to rest on his broad shoulder. Seokjin slung his arm around Namjoon and held him close, fingers slowly running up and down his arm to soothe him; a practise he’d gotten used to after their being together so long. “Did you forget to take your medication again?”
“No…” Namjoon panted, his shaking hands soon held in Seokjin’s steady ones. “I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t know why I feel so anxious, I just-”
“Joon.” Seokjin cut him off, raising an eyebrow and turning Namjoon’s chin so he was looking him in the eye. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” Namjoon smiled and wiped his eyes, worn out despite just having woken up but already a lot calmer as he focused on Seokjin’s calm heartbeat. “It doesn’t matter what the reason is, what matters is that you’re okay before I leave.”
“Thank you,” Namjoon whispered, huddling closer to Seokjin’s warm body as the man planted a gentle kiss atop his blonde hair. “I’m sorry, I’m okay.”
“I’ve told you countless times to stop apologizing! You can’t help it sweetie.” Seokjin reassured him, standing up and guiding Namjoon to follow as he headed for the lounge. “Now I really have to go, you gonna be okay on your own?” Namjoon chuckled, wrapping his arms around his fiancés neck and pulling him into a hug.
“I’ll be fine Seokjin, I’m not a child.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Seokjin sighed, ruffling Namjoon’s hair and giving him a tentative kiss as he turned to leave. “Call me if you need me, okay? Eunhae knows to put you through to me whenever you call so. Don’t worry about me being too busy or anything though, I know how you get.” Namjoon nodded with a grateful smile, thanking him and hurrying to give him another short, sweet kiss before his CEO lover was out of the door and he was left to his own devices for the day.
Namjoon glanced at the fridge and frowned; he didn’t feel like eating but he knew Seokjin would go on at him if he didn’t get some form of breakfast, no matter how small. He opened the refrigerator and examined each of the many tupperware tubs in there, eventually settling for yesterday’s kimchi and rice as they were easy enough to heat and serve. As he did he went over drafts for a novel he was preparing to write, concentration furrowing his eyebrows as he ate slowly and scanned over the character profiles.
“Is this actually gonna be enough to get me published?” he mused between mouthfuls, specks of doubt forming in his mind as he pulled his favourite pen from his jean pocket and began to alter his plot.
“Hey, Hoseok, do you still go to that gym on the corner?” Yoongi asked as they walked down the street, nearing the building he spoke of.
“Sometimes,” the other responded distractedly, mind still adrift with the thoughts of Jimin. “My trainer is really good.”
“I’ve been meaning to join a gym for forever but I’m too lazy,” Yoongi chuckled, wriggling his eyebrows at Hoseok who merely hummed in response. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” Hoseok smiled, hoping it didn’t seem as fake and forced as it was. “I actually think I’m going to drop in and see how it’s going with him.” Yoongi shrugged as his concern was brushed aside and followed Hoseok into the large blue gym building. He checked in at the counter and they headed through to the main training rooms, Hoseok peering through the window of one to see his usual trainer sat in the corner scrolling through his phone. His head, neck, arms and legs glistened with sweat and his chest heaved with the intensity of his breathing. Hoseok rapped timidly on the door, the muscular man inside looking up and grinning upon seeing his client. He wasted no time in hurrying to the door, throwing it open and stepping out to face Hoseok and Yoongi. “Hey Jungkook,” the former lilted, genuinely cheery smile taking to his lips this time. He and Jungkook had become pretty good friends through Hoseok’s newfound love for the gym, and Hoseok liked to talk to Jungkook about his hopeless and unfulfilling crush.
“Hey, what’s up?” Jungkook noted Hoseok’s less enthusiastic than usual demeanor and frowned slightly, looking over his shoulder to see Yoongi shifting his weight from foot to foot in awkward anticipation of their departure.
“I just wanted to. Check in, see how you’re doing!” Hoseok tried, face contorting into one of upset and happiness combined. All his energy by this point went into hiding his dismay. Yoongi coughed, making Hoseok jump in susprise. “Ah,yes. Jungkook, this is my good friend Yoongi.”
“So you’re Yoongi, huh?” Jungkook shook his hand with a smile, however he knew his worry for Hoseok was showing at the same time. “Nice to meet you,” Yoongi merely nodded, exhaling slowly and telling Hoseok he’d wait back at the entrance for him. Social interaction was not his thing. “Hobi, what’s wrong, are you sick?”
“Sick to death.” Hoseok muttered, reeling at Jungkook’s sudden alarm and elaborating; “of this crush.”
“Oh.” Jungkook laughed lightly at himself before his expression became one of pity, Hoseok looking down at his shoes.
“I apparently have competition now. Have you seen the florist down the street? With the pink hair?”
“Park Jimin?? He’s dreamy~” Jungkook chimed, dazed smile tugging up the corners of his downturned mouth. “Why, does he like Yoongi too?”
“That’s not… I mean. Why is this Min Yoongi attracting all the men in this city??” Jungkook huffed in disdain and Hoseok scoffed, his amusement making Jungkook frown.
“Two men, Jungkook. Two.”
“As far as you know, anyway.”
“Jungkook, I need help with my problem. I want to win Yoongi over, not lose him to some pretty pink flower boy!”
“Okay you say ‘pretty pink flower boy’ like that’s a bad thing. He’s beautiful. No homo, of course…”
“Jungkook you called him dreamy like. A second ago. You have a crush~~” Hoseok cooed mockingly, though when Jungkook put his hands on his hips and tensed his bicep as to accentuate the muscle his face fell and his eyes narrowed.
“Well I don’t want you to lose out on Yoongi. You’ve liked him for ages.”
“Aka I want to marry Park Jimin and Yoongi is in my way.” Hoseok murmured bemusedly, Jungkook rolling his eyes.
“So we both have problematic crushes! Anywayyyy I have this friend who’s a busker who’s currently trying to sign with Kim Seokjin’s record label. You know, KSJ Records? Either way he’s playing at bars and pubs and shit these days and he’s playing at Greenhill tomorrow, you know the one,”
“I know the one,” Hoseok affirmed, the image of his most frequented pub springing to mind. “But what on God’s earth does this have to do with me and Yoongi??”
“Take him there! He likes music right? Take him to watch Taehyung play and make your move or something.” Jungkook shook his head as if his implications had been obvious.
“I dunno if I can do that, Kookie,” Hoseok mumbled, pouting slightly. “If it were that simple we’d be together by now~”
“I-” Jungkook was interrupted by Yoongi’s reappearance, Hoseok spinning to see him smiling.
“Are we going? It’s getting cold and dark outside, perfect night to do some sketches,” Hoseok blinked slowly at him before looking down at the floor, smiling a little and heading to join his friend. As he went Jungkook slipped two small pieces of paper into his large hand; tickets to the show, Hoseok correctly presumed, and with a small wave he went back to his training. Hoseok scanned the tickets before pocketing them, jogging to catch up to Yoongi who had ambled ahead. Maybe a date wasn’t such a bad idea?
Feel free to tell me what you think! Or even,, what you think will happen ;3 Hope you liked ♥