Chapter Text
“You plan on burying yourself or you wanna do something about this mess?”
Bakugo paused mid crumple of another failed sheet of lyrics. The binding in his worn out song book was starting to unravel from the constant and aggressive pulling of the pages. His arm lowered as he turned to glare at the pink haired rhythm guitarist who was curiously looking around the ground. The floor was increasingly getting covered by balls of lined paper due to the trash can overflowing. Mina sighed and kicked a few of crumpled balls out of her way as she approached Bakugou at his desk.
“I’ll clean it up later or somethin’.” Bakugo waved her off and slumped on his elbows, his hands viscously scratching his scalp as if trying to ignite an idea from the friction alone.
Mina exhaled deeply from her nose, shaking her head while rolling her eyes. It had been roughly a month since Jirou got scouted by some big shot label to go solo and Bakugo— despite claiming that it would be fine— was not. He was the one who encouraged her to sign. That she would be stupid to pass on an opportunity like that in favor of staying indie, especially since Jirou came from a musical legacy family (unlike the rest of them). If anyone had a future to go big, it was Jirou thanks to her voice and knack for every instrument she laid her hands on. However, that left Bakugo and the band he begrudgingly joined and became the defacto leader of without a key component of their group— a vocalist. No one in the band could sing even if their well being depended on it. The blonde drummer, in a moment to assure Jirou that everything would definitely not fall apart in her absence, made a massive declaration that the band would find a replacement in no time.
After all, any ol’ fool could sing, but Bakugo was one of the very few who could compose and write. Oh, and being one of the best drummers out there didn’t hurt either.
“I’m not a lyrical genius or anything…” Mina wondered aloud as she kicked another ball out of her way, “…but, do you think you maybe need some inspiration?”
“Whaddya think I’ve been trying to do, Raccoon Eyes?” Bakugo grumbled as his ministrations on his scalp only got harsher. She was surprised he hadn’t drawn blood yet or started a fire.
“What I mean is that we should go out and not play for a change. Observe what the others are doing, ya’ know? It’s open mic night tonight at Shinketsu. Kirishima is offering to drive us all.” Mina proposed while leaning on the ledge of his desk. Bakugo paused, his fingertips stung with heat and rawness. He was chasing the melody too hard. His brain was starting to feel full from the days of agony over the many failed songs he had tried to write. Jirou leaving took a toll deeper than he had expected as the realization had dawned on him that, without a voice in mind, no music would come to him. Too many what ifs were blocking him from putting pen to paper and his poor, worn out notebook was paying the price. Every tune he hummed sounded like utter horseshit to his ears. Where did his talent go or had Jirou taken it away with her?
Bakugo liked music as much as the next person up until he joined the band. He listened to music mostly when he worked out or when he needed something to fill in the silence, but the moment his hands gripped a pair of drumsticks and his thighs felt the powerful booms of the kick drum…his passive appreciation become an obsession. Of course, the blonde excelled at everything he did, so in two years time he became a force that disturbed the peace of the music scene in Mustafu. He pridefully turned out the hoards of people who tried to steal him away for their own band. Bakugo went only where he wanted to. What did he look like? It was gonna take a lot more than some petty groveling and stroking his ego to make him bail.
A drumstick landed squarely on the back of his head with a muffled thunk! Bakugo snarled and whipped his head around to look Mina squarely in the eye, “That fucking hurt you know…!”
“You coming or what? Kaminari said that there’s someone that might be a good fit for us that’s been frequenting Shinketsu.” Mina spun the stick in her dainty fingers, a trick that Bakugou had taught her.
“Is that why he’s been fucking up at practice? Too busy cruising the bars for girls?” The blonde rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head.
“You know damn well its hard to play when he was used to taking his cues from Jirou. We’re all having growing pains clearly.” She jutted her chin at the mess surrounding them which caused Bakugou to let out a long drawn out groan.
“Okay, okay, let's go to this stupid bar. The dunce face better not being blowing smoke. If they suck, I’m leaving.” The blonde rose to his feet and swiped his leather jacket off the back of his chair. Mina watched as Bakugo slipped his arm into the worn out thing, a massive orange ‘X’ painted on the back panel stretched across the wide expanse of his back and shoulders.
“Dunno. He seemed pretty insistent which is pretty interesting if you think about it.”
Red eyes flickered between himself and the pink haired woman he could still see in the mirror. He raised a singular blonde brow at her in the mirror while his hands pulled the bunched sleeves of his shirt through the sleeves of his jacket. He wasn’t even gonna bother getting all dolled up for a potentially disappointing night. He didn’t even like drinking. Smelled like rubbing alcohol so potent that it would burn his nostrils.
Her pink nails fiddled with the tights she wore under some worn out black denim shorts as she spoke, “He said he’s never heard a voice like hers. Said he got the chills.”
The chills, huh?
Bakugo rolled his eyes, Dunce Face would get the chills even on a warm day if the right girl passed by.
The leather on his body groaned as he tugged the jacket on his body and pushed past Mina into the common room of the apartment he shared with Kirishima.
A girl with a voice so amazing, but she’s singing at bars by herself? This he had to see.
——————————————
He already wanted to leave the stuffy place.
Bakugo toyed with the frays of denim bordering the holes in his ripped jeans as he sat in an increasingly uncomfortable metal chair at Shinketsu. It was a Saturday night so the place was packed with college students and anyone else who could pass as one. Mina happily chatted away to his left with Kirishima and Kaminari, both on bass and lead guitar respectively over the various singers who went up so far. Not a single one was anything to write home about and Bakugo was starting to believe he was tricked into going out yet again to get him to ‘loosen up’. Couldn’t these idiots understand that they were in a really tight spot right now? Without a vocalist they had no band and Bakugou had no jumping off point to make anything new. The band would fall into obscurity and their sets would become boring recycling the same songs over and over.
And then what would he do with this new found passion? Go back to working a nine to five only to come home to filling his days with video games and working out? Hard pass.
“AH! There!” Kaminari suddenly jolted and nearly knocked down the beer Kirishima had been nursing for the past fifteen minutes, “Her! That’s who I was telling you about!”
Ruby eyes returned to the small stage several feet in front of him to find a woman standing there rather standoffishly. Her skin was hot and flushed, like she had ran all the way up there. (H/c) that was probably once in a neater hairstyle had a few pieces sticking to her forehead which she quickly swiped away. The microphone on the stand was promptly brought to her lips with both her hands. She cradled the microphone like it was a bird’s egg. Bakugo huffed an unamused laugh. Her? She looked like any other girl he could see on the street. Well, actually, she had killer thighs that were sitting in a pretty lace prison in the form of tights. The rivets on the sides of her skirt caught the light above like the tiny mirrors of a rotating disco ball. She was like a runaway, punk cinderella from the way she looked like she had decided she was going to sing tonight at all costs.
If he squinted, he could imagine her at the front of the band caressing the microphone like she was trying to make a makeshift nest for a robin’s egg.
But when the music floated through the speakers, she crushed that egg without mercy.
She belted out a cry that pierced Bakugo behind his eyes and through his lungs. With the rising crescendo of the recorded instrumentals, he watched you growl in pain and sorrow with eyes screwed shut. Her lips cried words that felt directed at someone specifically judging from how her hand, decorated in silver rings, clutched the corseted top at the swell of her breast. The sheer power and raw emotion of loss and heartbreak consumed the audience as everyone in the bar paused what they were doing to witness the woman on stage. Despite the emotions, your voice maintained its evenness and grew only stronger in impact. Each syllable you threw rocked his senses and all the blonde could do was stare blankly. He didn’t even notice the lack of guitar in the song, your voice carried the crash of the cymbals like you had an amplifier connected to your heart. (E/c) eyes slowly opened as you huskily whispered into the dark room, however Bakugo could tell you couldn’t see a thing. He might as well not have been there or anyone else for that matter. You were lost in the sea of sounds that were hitting your eardrums from the massive speakers next to you.
The blonde reached his hand up towards his neck, but still maintained his gaze in your direction not wanting to miss a second of what he was witnessing. He nearly didn’t feel it as his finger tips grazed the skin on his nape.
Goosebumps.
Your voice drifted through the ad libs as the little guitar present in the song hummed, growing quieter and quieter as the song ended. Bakugo suddenly remembered to inhale and move his body that was frozen in place. His lashes blinked rapidly as he looked around barely noticing the eruption of applause that exploded in the room. He cleared his throat and reached for his almost empty glass of lemon water. The rest of the band watched him curiously as the blonde downed whatever was left.
“So?” Mina began with a knowing grin, “Was Kaminari blowing smoke or was that better than you expected?”
“Shut it, Pinky.” It was life changing actually, he meant to say.
His mind was swirling with new ideas and lyrics. What more could you do with that growl of yours? He had never heard a powerhouse like that in his years of playing. Hell, he doesn’t think anyone making music period had that much power and soul like you did. Before he could even think, he was getting up and walking towards the stairs of the stage where he could see you still hanging around like you hadn’t just changed his life. His pupils were seeing stars dancing in his vision. An unsuspecting thing like you was hitting up the stage of Shinketsu waiting for someone like him to scoop you up.
“Yo.”
You lifted your head from your drink. Your chest was still burning after unloading all your pent up energy on stage for a bunch of strangers. Now, though, a tall blonde — devastatingly mean looking — man was looming over you like he was gonna shake you down for your lunch money. Your eyed darted left, then right. He couldn’t mean you could he?
He snorted a bit and flicked his head in your direction, “Yes, you, idiot. You just sang just now, right?”
“I don’t take critique if that’s what you’re here for.” You mumbled, “I know love songs kinda break the vibe so I promise I won’t do it again.”
Shinketsu was more of a rock and punk place, not exactly the place where you bust out ballads about your evil ex boyfriend who ran off with his “work wife” a month prior. You were just so angry you couldn’t help it. He was the reason you took up singing in the first place. It was the only way to get rid of the feeling of lead in your heart.
“Where did ya’ learn to sing like that? Are you in a band?” The blonde broke you from your sulking. He looked deeply serious.
A band? He’s gotta be fucking with you.
“A band? Oh no, never.” You waved your hand.
He tilted his head in a way that made you feel naked under his stare, “Why not?”
“W-Well…I’m not exactly made for that kind of stuff ya know? I don’t exactly have stage presence.”
“I disagree.”
You felt your world pause. He said it so confidently that it made you look him over once more and avoid getting lost in the handsome sneer on his face. You didn’t watch live performances much, but this guy would definitely be in a band now that you were looking at him. The DIY patches that were haphazardly placed on his jacket and the silver piercings lining the edge of his right ear stared back at you as if to nod back at you and say yes I’m in a band so I would know, dumbass.
Bakugo fished into his jean pocket and produced a satiny card in between his fingers, “If ya got the time, you should come sing for me and my band. We just lost our vocalist so you could say that we’re in the market for a new one.”
You licked your lips nervously which Bakugo let his eyes linger on as you took the card from his hands, “Come by during one of our practices and try us out. Promise we’re not lame like some of the other poor fools that play around here. I’ll make sure to have some tomatoes on hand in case we’re shit, but I doubt I’m wrong.”
You laughed a bit at that feeling the tenseness in your body subside a bit, “Are the others as funny as you are?”
Funny. He had never been described as funny before. Bakugo shifted his weight and ruffled his hair to hide his shyness a bit, “They’re more like people ya’ laugh at. But sure, let’s go with that. We’ll make ya’ laugh loads if you show up.”
You could tell he was trying to butter you up heavily to convince you to show up. You hummed and slipped the card into your bra for safe keeping, “But why me? No offense blondie, but judging from your outfit it seems like you’re more of the rock n’ roll type.”
“Pop Punk and metal fusion, sweetheart. A growl like yours is lethal for what I got planned. Thats why I want you.” He corrected you and for the first time during the conversation, his scowl upturned into a sexy, self-satisfied grin.
Your neck grew hot at his words. Well, when he put it that way… You didn’t think coming tonight would end up in being scouted by a rough and sexy blonde stranger, but you were not complaining at all. Maybe this is what you needed. The distraction you were asking for to finally forget your dumbass ex and move on. Maybe you’d finally grow the strength to throw away the shit he left behind in your apartment too so you wouldn’t have to remember him a second longer more than you had to.
Bakugo’s fingers snapped in front of your face, “Spacey are we? Don’t blame ya’ though since I can sympathize.”
Your blush grew hotter as you swatted his hand away and avoided how his red eyes raked over your exposed midriff. You cleared your throat, “What’s your name anyway? I mean if you prefer blondie I don’t mind, but ya know.”
“Bakugo.”
“No first name?”
He thought about it for a second before breathing out, “Katsuki.”
You tested his name on your tongue out of habit and Bakugo realized he liked more than music coming out of your mouth, “What about yours, song bird? You got one too I’m sure.”
“(L/N)(F/N).” You replied quietly and daring to look him in his burning irises.
“(F/N)…” He mused as if making sure your name matched your face before flashing his sharp canine at you under the lights, “I hope I get to see you next week then. I can show ya’ a stage better than this shitty little thing.”
You hoped that was a promise. Bakugo didn’t strike you as a liar.