Chapter Text
cr: xuune/_kaiihua
How hard can it be, really? Love songs are the most common type of song, aren’t they? People churn this out everyday. Regular people. Any random extra with a borrowed acoustic guitar can think of something to say.
Katsuki is ready to bite clean through his bottom lip as he glares at the page before him. It’s not blank — it’s worse than blank.
It’s the shittiest lyrics he’s ever written in his entire fucking life.
“You look good
Let’s go on a date
To an amusement park
We can ride on the Ferris wheel”
God— what? What? This isn’t coming out as authentic at all. What the fuck do people even talk about in a love song anyway? How much they adore their lover? The colour of their eyes? Holding hands and skipping together by a lakeside? Fuckin’ GAG. He wouldn’t be caught dead writing sappy shit like that.
Katsuki tells himself he’s not procrastinating when he listens to yet another recommendation from Pinky, paying close attention to the lyrics for the umpteenth time.
It’s just no use. How is he supposed to emulate and then write and sing about a feeling he’s never felt before? It feels too much like lying. And it’s not like he can just fall in love out of nowhere, just so he could understand the feeling and then write about it.
Stupid fucking contract obliging his band to heed the directions of their manager. It's typical corporate bullshit, forcing their band to comply with what the label believes is most profitable (at least for their work-in-progress second album). Their lawyer did a great job at negotiating their rights as an artist and gave them significantly broad creative control, but even she could not prevent the clause obliging them to create a minimum of three love songs.
Three! As if one wasn't enough! Whatever. There isn’t really that much room for negotiation with a high profile label like Eraserhead anyway. If they think that they'll be able to profit from the band in this way, then that was it.
The clause didn’t bother Katsuki before, but that was because they still had Kyouka — their frontman vocalist AND their lyricist. But now that she’s pursuing a solo career and is leaving the band, meaning she has other, bigger responsibilities that don’t include writing for them anymore…
Ashido Mina is a good replacement for her in terms of playing the guitar, but she isn’t exactly lyrically minded.
Aizawa offered, numerous times, to get him in contact with a lyricist he knew. Someone by the name of Midoriya, or something. But like hell was Katsuki going to receive help from some random stranger. Katsuki's written lyrics before, so he can do this on his own. Even though he's been stuck for weeks now. Even though it might be easier to just accept his manager's offer and—
Fuck. No, no. No, he can do this. He can do anything. He's Bakugou-fucking-Katsuki, damn it!
All he needs to do is think about lovey dovey crap and go from there. He thinks about his parents, remembering a moment where, as a child, he’d watched through the crack of a half shut door as his parents kissed in the kitchen light.
“Eugh.” Katsuki’s gag reflex activates instantly, and he presses his fist to his mouth. This is a goddamn disaster.
They’re collapsed on top of the mini-stage in Katsuki’s home studio, sweaty from an intense jam session but not exhausted in the way they usually are for band rehearsals. Katsuki sits next the stage with his back to the heavily soundproofed wall, rifling through his most recent lyric sheets just to do something with his hands (even after he thought he’d released his frustrations into the mic just a few minutes earlier).
Kyouka is murmuring quietly with Mina, coaching her on everything she needs to know to replace her in the band. Denki is by the drum set, watching something silently on his phone as he absentmindedly turns over his sticks in his hand. Momo is unwinding by playing a soft classical piece on her keyboard. And Tokoyami is sitting cross legged with his eyes closed, his bass guitar balanced on his lap like some sort of ritualistic sacrifice.
Mina’s boyfriend Eijirou is also here, sitting on a low seat next to Katsuki and slurping down a mug of hot soup, even though he isn’t a part of the band and is mainly just here for ‘moral support.’ He’s known their group since college, so he gets a free pass to watch them practise despite having not a singular musical bone in his body.
Katsuki glares at the page in his hand with such ferocity it’s a wonder he hasn’t popped a blood vessel. He crosses out yet another stanza, now writing in a different one:
'Let’s go on a date
I’ll kill you with romance
I know some pick-up lines
I can pick you up and throw you around
I know taekwondo, yes that is a threat'
Okay, fuck, that's bad right? Yeah, that's bad.
“Dude,” Eijirou starts up, peering over Katsuki’s shoulder. “You suck at this.”
Katsuki immediately shoves Eijirou's face away. “Fuck off, Shittiest Fucking Hair In The World—”
“Ouch?”
“—This ain't as easy as it looks!” Katsuki crumples up the paper in his hand and swings it at the opposite wall, uncaring when Mina dashes forward to catch it like some sort of baseball player.
“Ooo, Katsuki’s love lyrics!” Mina squeals in delight as she unfurls the paper. After a few seconds of reading, she grins. “This is terrible! You’re definitely not in charge of our love song quota. OOO, ooo, let’s all take turns writing our own love lyrics to see if we can take over Jirou's role! I’ll go first!”
“Right now?” Denki squeaks, drumsticks dropping from his hand. “Like on the spot?”
Ignoring Denki’s plight, Mina puts a hand over her upper lip and starts beatboxing. "Love you so sweet, honey it’s Shakespearean. A sensitive lover, kissin’ on you all Cancerian. Pussy is my daily diet baby you can call me vagitarian—”
“The FUCK?” Katsuki flushes from the shoulders up once the pun registers. “NO! Eugh! You’re so fucking gross, Pinky!”
“What’s wrong with it?” Mina throws her hands up in disbelief. “You’re the one who writes songs about exploding people’s faces!”
“Yeah, well that ain’t gross!!”
“Yes it is! And you’re acting so ten years old right now! There's nothing gross about a little gay loving!”
“It’s a no,” Katsuki repeats with an aggressive show of throwing himself back against the wall. “It doesn’t even fit our sound anyway. Shitty Hair, you try. Maybe we can put your ass to use around here.”
Eijirou startles at being addressed, but nods quickly anyway.
“Err… okay.” He sheepishly glances at Mina as his hands mimic her beatboxing position from before. “…Mina over there. Sitting on a chair. Me over here. Sitting on a…” He looks down at his seat, “…stool.”
“Woww,” Mina whispers.
“You’re one to talk. Dunce Face, go.”
Denki panics for a second, throwing up a peace sign with one hand and a hang ten gesture with the other. “Uhh… we out here.”
There’s a long pause as Katsuki stares at him incredulously. “Is that it?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know what else to say!”
"Ooo, me, me!" Momo raises her hand politely. "Dearest lover," she begins when Katsuki waves a hand at her to continue, "Fall into my loving arms! Let me kiss your brow, with love! Let me touch your soul, with love! Oh, how I love you so, my sweetest darling from heaven above!"
"So romantic," Kyouka sighs dreamily as she hugs her guitar to her chest, at the same time Katsuki rubs a hand down his face and groans, "No way, Ponytail. That's too fucking sappy. And you sound like you're in a high school play."
Finally, his eyes land warily on Fumikage, who's been watching this all play out silently. "I don't even want to ask your emo ass, but..."
Fumikage clears his throat. "Locked together in eternal damnation, I crown thee with starfire and ivory—"
“Fuck.” Katsuki drops his head down in between his knees. “This is the worst day of my life.”
He calls Aizawa back that night to take him up on the offer to meet this Midoriya. The entirely too smug “I told you so” rings loud and clear from the end of the receiver, even if entirely unsaid.
The elevator is out of service when he arrives at the studio, so he’s forced to take the stairs up to the tenth floor.
Today they’re recording a cover of another band’s song — one under the same label as them. It's mostly for promotional purposes and it’s not tedious or mentally exhausting, but it’s still irritating in that it distracts Katsuki from his actual work. Which is… trying to write lyrics. Which he hasn’t been able to do easily for the past month or so. Whatever.
He’s stopped on the third landing, however, when a man is standing in the middle of his way, his brows furrowed as he looks down at his phone with a confused frown.
The guy looks dorky as hell. Ugly red high tops and mismatched funky socks, a wool-lined green jacket thrown over a tee with a cartoon bunny on it. At the very least, his black corduroy pants are actually cuffed at the end and don’t have any gross food stains on it, which is what he’d honestly been expecting going off the other atrocities.
He glances down to the name tag dangling around his neck before looking back up.
“Oi,” he starts with a raised eyebrow, “You lost or somethin’?”
The man turns to him with a start, and Katsuki feels the sudden urge to take a step back. The guy’s eyes are wide as saucers, and the weirdest shade of green. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen a colour like this one before. He’s caught by it like a deer in the headlights.
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to be in the way! I’m just looking for Room 213.6A?”
Katsuki blinks, and the hypnosis is instantly lifted.
“Take the elevator next time,” he grunts sarcastically, shoving past the guy to continue his way up.
“I-I tried that!” the man says hurriedly. “It’s out of service.”
“Not my problem.” Katsuki quickens his pace. God, how hard is it to find a room in a 13 level building anyway? Room 213.6A should be—
Oh, god damn it.
Katsuki halts at the carpeted hallway floor of Level 4. He turns back around with a long exhale, somehow not surprised to find the man still waiting awkwardly on him. “Your name Midoriya by any chance?”
The man perks up at this, a smile easily finding its way on his face. “That’s me!" Ugh, the old man really does work fast. "Aizawa-san invited me to the studio today since I’ll be busy later in the week. Are you… in the band 'The Explosion Gods’?”
Katsuki snorts. He’s literally the heart and soul of the band, but there’s no use in voicing it out loud so all he says is, “Yeah.”
That sincere smile never wavers. “Oh, that’s great! What a lucky coincidence I ran into you first, huh? Speaking of which, why is this place so deserted today? I kept checking the address to see if I got it wrong, somehow. And are you Kaminari Denki? He said he’d meet me in the lobby but I was standing there for quite a while and nobody showed. Uhh, he said he was ‘blond,’” he looks at his phone screen, “'devastatingly handsome, and six feet tall.’”
When he looks back up, he catches Katsuki’s unimpressed stare and smiles sheepishly in return. “Okay, guess not, then.” Then, as if sensing what he said, he sputters out with a fiery red blush, “Not that you’re not handsome or anything! Or blond! Or… tall? I was just—”
Katsuki sighs, turning on his heel to continue his way up the stairs without a look back. “Room’s this way,” he grunts, figuring it would be better to help in case he came back down only to find the guy still standing there like some kind of NPC.
“Oh! Thanks!” Deku hurries to catch up to him. “My name’s Midoriya Iz—”
“Deku, yeah, yeah, I know. I saw your nametag.” A fitting name, really, for someone with a fashion sense as hopeless as he is.
Deku seems to falter at this, looking back at his lanyard. “…Deku?” he repeats, like an idiot. “Ah, I see where the confusion came from. It’s actually—”
“Look.” Katsuki stops in his tracks, grimacing when Deku bumps into him from behind. “I don’t know where the old man found you, but you gotta know that I don’t take this shit lightly. You better not waste our time today.”
Deku looks at him, stunned for a second. “You must be Bakugou Katsuki,” he says eventually, eyes dropping and lingering on the black tattoos swirling around Katsuki’s muscled arm. For a brief, weird second, Katsuki is tempted to flex the muscle. “Of course. Sorry— I knew your voice sounded a little familiar... Well, I can assure you, sir, that you will not be disappointed in my abilities in the slightest!”
The conviction is unnerving, and Katsuki wrinkles his nose. “Ew, don’t call me that. I can’t be that much older than you.”
“Sorry sir— uh, Mr. Bakugou?”
“Drop the mister, you freaking weirdo.”
Deku smiles wider, lips stretching ear to ear. “Sure thing! Nice to meet you, Bakugou-san.”
Katsuki regards him for a long moment, eyebrow raised as he once again gives him a full body assessment. The outfit is seriously so much worse to witness at such a close proximity.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he says, satisfied when that happy expression falls to something more neutral. “I don’t know what Aizawa told you, but you ain’t official yet. Nothing goes by without my say on it, you got that? Today’s just a trial run.” Katsuki glances at the worn brown bag slung over Deku’s shoulder. “So you’d better be fucking prepared to blow me away with whatever crap you got in there.”
Deku isn’t smiling anymore, but somehow, he looks more confident now. “Oh, I will,” he says easily. Katsuki merely frowns as the man makes his way past him with a steady stride.
Well, that was almost a little respectable—
“Oh,” Deku says, pausing with one foot in the air. “Uhh, I, uh, don’t know where I’m going. Could you…” He makes a 'please lead the way’ gesture, and Katsuki huffs, erasing whatever thought he’d almost had in just under a second.
Katsuki ignores the way the other members gush over Deku like he’s some sort of new exhibit to gawk at.
They’ve finished recording a couple of takes, leaving it now to the audio engineers to splice it up and make do with it what they will. Katsuki doesn’t really care— it’s not like it’s even their song to begin with.
They just moved into one of the empty rooms one level below. It’s a cozy spot – all black walls and dark furniture. They usually hang back for chiller jam sessions together, though today the mood is more lively considering the new guy in the room.
From where they’re sitting on the leather sofa, Denki shakes the new guy’s hand with extreme vigour. “I’m so sorry for forgetting about you!” he whines apologetically. “Aizawa said I should be the one to greet you and I totally forgot!! I’m so sorry! Forgive me! I also lied about being six feet tall!”
Deku laughs awkwardly as Denki doesn’t let go of his hand. “It’s okay, really! I was lucky that Bakugou-san was there to–”
“I’m Ashido Mina!” Mina chips in from where she’s seated on the floor by Denki’s feet. She takes the hand that Denki’s just released and presses a kiss to Deku’s knuckles. "The Explosion Gods’ new rhythm guitarist, at your service!”
Deku blushes profusely at the gesture, bringing his hand close to his chest when Mina releases him from her pink clutches.
“Bass,” is all Fumikage says. Deku jumps at the word and turns to his left, apparently not having noticed their gothic bandmate sitting just next to Denki.
Sitting on Deku’s right side, Kyouka and Momo giggle simultaneously at Deku’s reaction. “I play the keyboard,” Momo says gently, as if trying to appease a jumpy animal.
“O-okay?”
“I play drums, and the guitar!” Denki says again. “We rotate roles sometimes, depending on the song. Bakugou here is the lead singer and lead guitarist, but he plays the drums too so sometimes we swap. But I can’t sing, so Kyouka has to step in for that. But she’s leaving to pursue a solo career in Tokyo! We’ll actually be helping her unload her apartment tonight. So anyway, it’s just Bakugou on vocals now. But Kyou wrote our lyrics and she’s way better at it than Bakugou, so that’s where you–”
“The hell’re you rambling about?” Katsuki scowls, interrupting the idiot before he says something even more idiotic. “We might never even see this dude after today. Let’s fuckin’ get to work already.”
The band huddles together excitedly as Deku (wedged in between four of them on the sofa) quickly takes out a baby blue binder from his bag.
Katsuki, sitting on a chair perpendicular to the rest of the group, sets his guitar on the floor before he takes the binder... and is almost instantly overwhelmed by it.
There must be hundreds of different lyric sheets compiled together, each one separated by a blank blue page. They’re all typed up neatly, their headings bearing the name of the song’s titles. From what he can see so far, each song seems to bear its own distinct theme, illustrated even more so by little doodles and designs decorating each song title sheet. Some of the songs are about love, some of them aren't, and some of them are pretty ambiguous. At the very least, he has to give the guy some credit for this range.
There are names like Blood in the Teeth, Sucker Punch Love, Terrarium Heart. It’s eye-catching and memorable, yes, but Katsuki is more concerned with the lyrics. If they don’t immediately call to him, then he’s throwing this right back at the weirdo’s face.
He reads one. Then the next. And then the next, and the next, and the next. Each time, a certain line jumps out at the page and gets his brain ticking and whirring, turning cogs he didn’t know had even existed.
‘Keep my name in your mouth,’ one of them says, ‘Keep it pressed to your Cupid’s Bow lips/Draw it back like an arrow/And release it when we kiss.’
Hmm...
A voice, sounding muffled and far away, tentatively asks, “Do… you like it... or?”
“Shut up,” Katsuki says reflexively, barely registering who was speaking or what was being said.
Mina stage-whispers excitedly, “That means he loves it!!”
Katsuki gets to the last set, scanning the words slower than before. This one is handwritten, the words messy and scribbled, like he was in a rush to get everything down. Unlike the others, this one is untitled.
Despite himself, he lets out a curt, “Huh.”
Deku fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Which one are you at?”
Katsuki doesn’t answer, too busy digesting the words. There’s a certain set of lines that captures his attention immediately. He finds himself lingering on it, reading it over and over again.
“So I’ll chase it to the ends of the earth,” Katsuki recites out loud, eyes flicking up when he sees Deku's nervous tics suddenly go still, “In the hope that I’ll remember/Because even when the fire dies out/I’ll burn my tongue licking at the embers.”
There’s a short silence as the group takes it in.
Denki whistles sharply. “Okay, that sounds sick.”
“What striking imagery!” Momo says with a clap of her hands. “Isn’t it great, Kyou?”
Kyouka smiles, giving Katsuki a knowing look which he promptly pretends to not see. “Oh it sounds familiar, alright.”
Fumikage closes his eyes and nods approvingly. “It’s certainly provocative.”
“Haha, yeah,” Deku mumbles, rubbing a hand down his arm self consciously. “I had a feeling you would be drawn to that one.”
Katsuki watches him carefully as he squirms in his seat, the discomfort not going unnoticed.
“And why is that?”
“It reminds me a bit of your band’s lyrics.”
Katsuki leans back in his seat, keeping his eyes on him.
“You a fan?” Before he can let Deku reply to that, he asks, “What’s your favourite song?”
“Aw c’mon,” Denki chuckles. “Is this really the time to be gatekeeping?”
Kyouka lays a hand on Denki’s shoulder. “No, no. Let Midoriya answer. It's actually an important question.”
“Ah, well.” Deku tilts his head as he considers. “That one's easy. White Bellbird just... speaks to me the most. It's more haunting than the rest of the album." He closes his eyes and exhales briefly as he says this, and the group falls silent.
They all glance at Katsuki for brief seconds to gauge his reaction, but only one person is brave enough to look smug about it.
Katsuki very pointedly ignores Kyouka’s large grin once again, bristling at the way she's turned her whole face to look excitedly at him.
“Right,” he says matter-of-factly, slapping the binder closed. “You and I will meet every Friday evening until we've finished all three songs. If you got stuff on for Friday nights you’d better cancel ‘em because it’s the only time I’m available for this.”
Deku blinks, seemingly coming back to himself, before looking back at the other band members as if to get confirmation. When they all just give him encouraging smiles, he turns back to Katsuki. “Does this mean— did you — so you like them? You want me on as your lyricist?”
Katsuki tosses him his binder in lieu of an answer. “Can you do the damn Fridays or not?”
“Yes!” Deku shoots up in his seat with a wide grin. “Of course! Friday evenings, I gotcha! When do we start? Where are we meeting? Did you want to keep these songs or—?”
“I’ll text you,” Katsuki cuts in. Damn, the guy has a motor mouth on him. “Just gimme your phone number and get out of here already.”
Five hours later, after they’ve unloaded the last of Kyouka’s boxes into the back of the truck and are now seated at Kyouka’s favourite ramen place, Katsuki is beginning to feel the pressure a little.
Sure, he’s happy that Ears is pursuing a solo career. It’s been her dream since childhood, and god knows she’s worthy of it too. She’s the only one in the band with more musical prowess than Katsuki, and he knows for a fact that she has what it takes to make it big.
But she was their lyricist. And they worked really fucking well together too. It’s not gonna be easy building a relationship with that much trust with a stranger. Sure, that Deku guy is a good writer. But how can he know for certain that this change in dynamics is going to improve their band rather than just set it back?
He’s silent throughout most of dinner, though he can feel Kyouka periodically turn her eyes on him.
“Aw, c’mon grumpy!” Mina throws her arms over his shoulders in a one sided hug. “Don’t be so sad about Kyou leaving! She’ll always be with us in spirit! If anyone should be sad, it's Momo honestly!”
“Geddof me Pinky!” Katsuki barks without any bite. “‘M not sad.”
“Well, you look stressed,” she says, slightly muffled from where she’s pressed her cheek into his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Baka-gou, I’ll be the best replacement ever!”
Katsuki snorts as he pries her arms off of him. “On the guitars, maybe. But I ain’t letting you anywhere near the lyric sheets. Same goes for all of you bozos!”
The rest of the team groan jokingly, before bursting into a fit of laughter as they make fun of each other’s attempts at lyrics again.
Kyouka, sitting beside Katsuki, just places a comforting hand on his elbow. “You’ll be fine, dude,” she murmurs quietly. “I’ve heard of Midoriya before. He’s honestly legendary within our circles. You're in good hands!”
Even though this is news to him, it does little to quell his uncertainty. “If he’s working with us then he better fucking be.”
“Trust me on this one.” Kyouka gives him a small smile. “I have a feeling you guys will work well together. Besides, you still have me! I might be busier now, but I can always try to find room to help you guys out. Just say the word, alright?”
Katsuki shoves his hands into his pockets and says nothing more.
He makes another embarrassing phone call that evening, and this time Aizawa really does say “I told you so” out loud.
After that torture is completed, he continues his pitiful walk of shame by finally pressing the 'message' button after 5 full minutes of glaring at it.
Me (12:09am):
we meet in 2 days
my address is XXXXX
don't be fucking late
New Contact (12:10am)
Hiii, Bakugou!!
Lol, u sound like ur threatening me
"Be there or be square!!"
Me (12:10am)
?
New Contact (12:10am)
Ah, nevermind then!
See you in 2 days!! :)
So very edxxcited to work with yiu
Excited*
You*
Like truly, I'm so honoured
...
Okay, good night then!
Read: 12:17am
(pray for him)
cr: max/deku_verde