#drummer bakugou

[kingkatsuki]

No but Bakugou being so hopelessly in love with you he writes all these romantic songs about you, records himself playing acoustic or drumming to them as he adds his voice on top and his videos are viral online. But you have absolutely no idea that all these songs are about you.

#drummer bakugou #soft bakugou

[coloringcuda]

#Bakugou #bakugou katsuki #drummer Bakugou #this painting drained substantial life force #but I love him #coloringcuda

[yourstrulyaiko]

 o𓆩♡𓆪 INTRODUCTORY; MY HAPPY ENDING PT.1 | HEADCANON 𓆩♡𓆪

╰┈➤ featuring; boku no hero academia! drummer! bakugou katsuki! x lead singer! fem! reader  

જ about; Heartbreaks. Aches. Dreams shattered. You feel like there was no bridging between you and your goal as an artist. Especially since the bridge that connected you that was your ex-boyfriend, Shindo, who you met at club. Now, that you’re separated. You thought, that was it. No more.

જ contents and warning; profanity cause bakugou is on it, asshole bakugou, cigarettes, smoking, angst, drummer bakugou, band au, fluff, romance, drama, paparazzi, cheating, break ups and many more that I have definitely missed.

જ author's note; I actually have a lots and lots of chapter about band au which needs to be revised and re-written. unedited.

First of all, let’s talk about the band.

Bakugou, Kirishima, Denki and Sero are all in a band called ‘Tokyo Lights’. Mina being the stylist. Jirou is the producer of the band

It’s a pop-rock band. They rose to top quickly because of one song called ‘Turning Jane’. It was a hit all over Tokyo. Many praised the band,

Many turned those praised towards their lead singer, Camie.

Her vocals are phenomenal and really fits the band’s genre.

It has been months since they have debuted. 

A total of 2 albums. Interviews. Promotions. An Asian, European, North America and South America leg tour.

People were much more keener when it was publicised that the lead singer Camie and drummer Bakugou are dating.

Fans have picked up the tension between the two and they were suspecting that they may dating.

So, when it was confirmed, when Bakugou and Camie was photographed together outside of a club, late at night sharing a very intimate kiss. Bakugou had his arm loosely slung around her neck holding a cigarette.

Fans and shippers were loosing it.

They were at their heights. So successful. So known .

But that all came crashing down when Camie was due to leave the band.

It blew up everywhere. Bold Headlines.

“Lead Singer Camie leaving Tokyo Lights”, “Lead Singer of Tokyo Lights, Camie, is announced to leave the band due to disagreements”,  “Lead Singer, Camie and Drummer, Bakugou reportedly have broken up”, “What’s the future of Tokyo Lights?”, “Camie’s Out! What could this mean for the band?”

Everyone genuinely thought this was it for them. No more Tokyo Lights.

Fans are sad.

Now, they’re wondering if they are going to cancel the world tour because of they have no singer.

Even more than that, the band itself, they were worried that this was the end of their dreams.

They were drinking their sorrows away at a nearby club, the ones they used to perform at before they blew up.

Bakugou especially was drinking heavily. His first serious relationship just ended and he might not be able to perform as a professional musician anymore.

It was a lot to digest.

He was on his 2nd bottle of whiskey. He was pissed drunk.

The rest of the boys, Jirou and Mina was telling him to take it easy.

But, he told them to fuck off and they wouldn’t understand how he was feeling.

He is right, they don’t. They don’t know what it feels like experiencing heartbreak and watching your dreams crumble right in front of your eyes.

Then, the club owner announced that there is another band who will be playing tonight, he even joked that this band might be the next Tokyo Lights upcoming.

That band consisted of you, your boyfriend, Shindo and his friends.

You were a lead singer and he was a bassists.

You meet him in the same club, Shindo thought you were cute and you happen to have a real knacker for singing.

You are incredibly talented. You are passionate about it

After going out for a month. He asked you if you wanted to sing for  his own band forming.

This was the turning point of your relationship.

He got to obsessive at the thought of being on top. Being the next Tokyo Lights. Being better than them.

It was affecting your relationship and his friendship in the band.

Shindo was constantly pushing for the band to be top perfection. It means rehearsing almost everyday. No breaks.

One wrong note means that you would be screamed at by him. Among other plethora of things.

You remember your friend, Hiro got into a terrible accident which led to him needing crutches.

Shindo got furious because he couldn’t play the electric guitar for a while cause he’s dealing with an immense pain.

It was exhausting. Your friends complained about him behind Shindo’s back. 

Hell they were frustrated about reaching out to you afraid that you’d tell on them. 

But you joined in to complain.

For reason, anything going wrong with him meant that you’re the one always being blamed too.

Shindo would whip his head around and scream at you,

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t-”

“You’re always fucking up. It’s dragging everyone down. You’re not putting any effort in.”

No matter what, he never took responsibility for his fuck ups.

It’s mentally fucking you up.

So, when you got a gig into this club. The club that Tokyo Lights used to frequent at.

Shindo got worse.

He looked at every single one of you and warned you.

Especially, you remember him having you pressed up against the wall and looking at you straight in the eye.

“Don’t fuck this up for us.”

To him, this was his opportunity. He wrapped with the idea and it was destroying everything around him.

Before getting up the stage. You remember him slamming you on the walls,

“If you fuck up. I swear to God, (First name).”

You could only stand there and nod. Unable to speak.

You were petrified.

“Fix up your hair and makeup. Get yourself pretty.” Shindo commands then pressing a kiss on your forehead.

You did as you were told, your band mates were looking at you with concern but you reassured them with a smile on your face.

So, you took a deep breath in and following them up stage. Walking up to the microphone stand.

“Good evening, everyone!” There was a chorus of cheers, “We’ll be performing two songs today. I hope you enjoy it!”

Everyone in the club whoops in excitement.

The first song was okay. But, the second song was a disaster. 

Yo Shindo was mostly to be blamed. He was out of sync compared to everyone.

Every single member of the band would occasionally glance over to him.

You can tell that Shindo was getting annoyed and frustrated.

So after that flop of a performance.

He was fuming and it was all directed towards you.

“We’re done and you’re out. Get out the fuck out of my face.”

You don’t whether if you would be relieved and happy about this or sad.

You’re conflicted,

You don’t know.

Kirishima lit up

“I think we just found our lead singer.”

Long story short, you became their singer.

Everyone was open to you except Bakugou.

He made sure that you knew that.

You are not welcomed by him, every little thing you did was criticized.

Even the song you were writing was told it was shit.

Because it didn’t fit their genre, the lyrics are not as great as what Jirou wrote, you’re not singing it right etc.

There was no difference working with Shindo and Bakugou.

But you paid no mind since their band is moving fast.

His relationship with Camie was public.

He is still wrapping his head around their breakup.

Then, it was news everywhere.

“New Lead Singer of Tokyo Lights!”, “A Rumored New Lead Singer”, “Flop or Not? New Lead Singer”, “(First name) an is the New Lead Singer, Who could this be?”

Your photo was plastered everywhere. New Lead Singer.

They were mixed reactions; good, bad and neutral.

When the new recorded song ‘My Happy Ending’ was released.

Some of those reluctant fans were swayed because you sounded great.

You are a great singer. They had hope.

But, when Tokyo Light announced that they’ll continue the Tour and with you instead.

People were cancelling their ticket.

Now, they lost money and the band has to downsize to a much smaller venue.

You get it, people are sentimental. You know why they wouldn’t be open so easily.

Bakugou voiced his opinion that it was a terrible idea. All of you are losing money.

Why the hell would you perform with them?

That’s when Kirishima puts his foot down. 

Either they continue as a band and move forward or they move forward without him.

This is their dream and if they stay miserable forever, they won’t continue at all.

He said nothing.

It was the day of the concert,

You’re nervous.

You are dressed pretty. Knee high heeled boots, some cute skirt and a corset.

Bakugou had some jeans on and the chain on it and no shirt on. Showing off the tattoos.

He always played without the drums.

He does that thing too where he stick out his pierced tongue.Twirls the drumsticks around in his fingers 

You get on stage

Holy fuck.

Your stage presence was fucking phenomenal..

Kirishima, Sero and Denki has never seen anyone so charismatic and enthusiastic with performing on stage.

You were jumping around and got everyone to do it too.

Your crowd control was amazing as well.

This was the first time the band was fire up ever.

Not to mention, it felt like you didn’t even need to do it because Tokyo Light’s fans are doing your job for you.

You had to motion for them to turn up your microphone louder.

At the end of the concert, you were heaving very heavily.

“Tokyo. You’re crazy out here tonight. It’s turning me on.” 

They all screamed their heads off.

“But, unfortunately, we have to end it for tonight... Not without a final song.”

You performed the song you had with Tokyo Lights, ‘My Happy Ending’

It was insane that a good majority all managed to memorize the lyrics. 

It made you feel good since it’s your first ever published song ever.

“Goodnight, Tokyo!”

Once, you got off stage. You were surrounded by the rest of the band, Mina and Jirou swarming in a a tight hug. So excited.

“That was awesome, (First name)!”

You were so happy.

But, Bakugou aside in disapproval,

“Just cause you did something well doesn’t mean you’re a part of this band.”

#band au #drummer bakugou #drummer au #drummer bakugou katsuki #drummer katsuki #boku no hero academia fanfic #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha headcannons #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo angst #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki headcanons #angst #bakugou katsuki headcanon #bakugo fluff #bakugo angst #bakugou imagine

[carmelcholate]

Kinda Into It [ Bakugou x gn Reader x Jirou] bandau

•Masterlist•

Description: Your a young guitarist that's barely getting by ends meet with your day job at a supermarket and at night a guitarists at your local bar but things take a turn when you met the famous band leader Kyouka Jirou who offers you a role as her bands new lead guitarist. But the same can't be said with her co leader/ bands drummer.

(p.s ,characters are aged up till their early/mid twenties)

___________________________

*Third pov*

Calming blue morning sky, clouds slowly scattered against each other it's a real sight to see especially when rays of light reflects itself against the large studio windows.

 Gently falling onto the purple haired female with a stimming hot cup in hand who really wasn't pleased by the sudden brightness. Before slowly walking towards one of the small bean bags that surrounded the place before plopping down.

Taking small sips from her cup when she let out a breath of satisfaction, softly inhaling the sweet scent of herbs and ginger tea. Life was after all quite hectic for the band, for the past few years exspeally before their debut and now finally she felt at ease with everything that's currently playing out , tickets were sold, albums were charting on billboards and they had just recently finished their grand tour around Asia it was a total blast no doubt!

But... It's nice to be able to unwind sometimes and relax away for a stressful environment. Away from all noise and crowds of people circling around you it feels nice after so long to have some persona space too and a decent amount of privacy to breathe.

Jirou thought when she heard the front door behind her being slammed opened startling the girl from almost spitting out her tea , the door slammed shut with grunt. She turned to face the blond male who had his usual scowl on his sweaty face that flushed red like he just ran a marathon and his clothes were all soaking wet.

"And what the hell happened to you"?

Jirou asked directing her gaze towards bakugou's, him rolling his eyes in response before quickly stripping away his tracksuit that left him bare on top and his sneakers before flopping onto the couch next to Jirou.

Groaning as his back fell against the soft material. "Wanna tell me what happened "?jirou asked as she looked back to the blond next to her who then let out a breath looking back at her.

"And what does it look like that happened!?" 

"Hmmm from the looks of it your pissed off and smell like a wet dog " jirou said pinching her nose

Making the blond's eyes to go wide before glaring daggers ,making her chuckle in return.

"Okay okay calm down big guy , that alone can't possibly hurt the all mighty Bakugou's feelings right?" 

Making the blonde to grunted in return. Before standing up and heading towards the locker room to grab himself a towel. Then there was jirou casually scrolling through her phone suddenly buzzing it was their manager?

She thought as she press to answer the phone line picking up as the person on the other hand spoke.

"Kyouka! have you heard the news!!" Their manager said voice sounding really worried.

" No? What news what are you talking about "

"It's about tokoyami ! I don't how or why but on his tweeter today he suddenly tweeted that he was disbanding from the band !"

"Wait?What!! Jirou said loudly now standing up as she tried to properly sink in the new information of the current situation.

"But he's never told us anything and why now and why this way?" Jirou said , their manager only letting a frustrated sigh on the other hand not knowing what to say either.

"Sadly I don't know either kyouka I was never informed of such news by tokoyami nor by the rest of the team, I don't maybe this is some kind of drunk prank he playing right now but it better be cleared right away! because as you know the media isn't going to take to kindly to this nor is your reputation or fans so I suggest you get hold of him right away to clear this whole mess because he's certainly isn't answering mine!" They said before abruptly ending the call.

Jirou only stood in silence her phone still pressed against her right ear . Not knowing what she was going to do , to handle this news. For the years she had spent with tokoyami as one of her best friends in highschool being the two founders of this band she couldn't understand either why didn't he say anything to her or talk about it in general?!

 What was actually going on? And in that second she immediately dialled for his number....

*Beep* the person your trying to reach is currently unavailable*beep*the robot said making her heart stop for a sec, as she felt a her whole world literally crumbling before her dreams, ambition and passion all going down hill she felt like something had stabbed in the heart waiting for her band mate her friend to answer her!

 Lips held tight she dialled again still no answer, her flooding messages where unseen almost like he did it on purpose but why she thought,what was she gonna do? The band's image? Their questioning fans,their lead guitarist? who was gonna replace him and what was gonna happen especially know?

 How is this blow gonna affect not only their image together as band that they worked so hard for years and basically their relationship with each other? 

Jirou thought while crouched against the couch, phone still in hand showing casing her history of calls to Tokoyami as she stared blurry into the distance as a washed up Bakugou oblivious to the situation going on he suddenly saw her in that state which immediately made him concerned walking towards her , crouched down next her facing her blurred state as he lightly shook her out of it.

"Hey ear jacks you listening? Snap out of it! damnit!?"he said alittle aggressively breaking her out of her trans like state lips parted her expression was nothing but surprise soon turned to a dreadful one.

"Baku-gou?..." Jirou said her voice breaking alittle as she looked up towards him. "Yeah? What is it " he asked still confused. 

"It's tokoyami he-he-... he suddenly announced his dispatcher from the band today and now won't communicate" jirou said her voice feeling numb her expression was nothing but hopeless.

After hearing what jirou said bakugou's expression for the first time in a long time turned into anger, their band since highschool,their band that all willingly created together as a whole with memories along the way, their band that had to go through all the shit n hassles to get to where they are right now was all going to waste hah! because of that bird brain decision to chicken out from the fame last minute is that it huh!? Properly so! *He thought 'tch' *

Getting up he looked down a jirou before speaking. *Argh* he thought

"Hey!stop crying about it already and get working! call the team for a meeting and tell em that we are finding a new guitarist!" *Bakugou said as he looked back jirou who looked at him in surprised*

"But tokoyami h-"

"Well he ditched us without a proper warning so I'd say we ditch him too find a new one instead, if he really had something to say to us about it he'll can come say it !" *Bakugou said grinning not in a happy way but in the i am gonna show you kind of way*

*With this it was all set they'd need to find a replacement asap especially a good one though!*

*If that was only easier said then done* jirou thought sighing as she rubbed her face with her palms looking at Bakugou's passive aggressively explaining to everyone about his new fond idea of his, well I guess we can give a shot? An a audition maybe?*

She thought still unsure but soon smiled as she saw everyone in the room slowly starting to hype up with his idea , with that she couldn't help but smile alittle at everyone's behavior to start fresh.

_______________________________

["y'all sorry for this extermly late update it's been a year since I posted this series but sadly last year due to it being a year for my spm (msia senior final exam) I was focusing on my studies n now it's all over am free yeeee😭😩 also thank you for reading until the end of this chapter I can't believe so many people actual like my stuff like this my first time a fic actual even got 2 digit number I couldn't be more happier that people love reading my series tq✨ n see yah]

#bakugou katsuki #fame #drummer bakugou #jirou kyouka #angst #love triangle #mha bandau #my hero academia bandau #guitarist reader #gender neutral reader #toxic relationship #bisexual #pansexual #mha #bandau #bakugouxreaderxjirou

[yourluckieday]

The thought of drummer Bakugou has me in a chokehold. Flipping drum sticks, sexy little smirks to the cameras so everyone in the audience can just swoon over him, no shirt, sweaty as hell. I’m dying.

#late nights with luckie #just random thoughts #drummer bakugou

[mhathotfic]

I’m in a mood and can only think of heavily tatted drummer Bakugou and his pretty idol sweetheart.

Pretty little sweet heart who plays up the innocent act for pr, but the nastiest little slut for him in private. Hopefully their dirty deeds don’t get out there, what a pr nightmare!

#pretty petra #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #idol au #idol reader #drummer bakugou #thirst post #nsft post

[shutit-haha]

Rocker Bakugo/Manager reader

Rocker Bakugo who everyone labels as cocky but you simply say arrogant. There's videos that have gone viral of you correcting people during interviews saying he's only like this because he knows what he can do. This is how you gain your popularity as his manager.

"Now you're quite cocky aren't you?" The grey haired man leans forward onto his desk.

"No, he's not." You speak up from where you sit next to Bakugo on the dark green sofa.

"But he is," the man corrects you.

"No, he's not." You've taken on a more stern tone, "anytime Katsuki has ever told me 'I don't need you to teach me' he goes and proves that in fact he doesn't need my assistance. He's very talented and has been since a surprisingly young age, do I wish he was nicer yes, every one does. He's arrogant only because he's aware of how talented he is." The interview was cut short after that, security escorting your crew out. This is how you accidently make your mark.

Rocker Bakugo who has a ton of groupies but doesn't really care. As his career starts to rocket, he appears more and more in public with hickeys on his shoulders and chest. At first there's speculation of it being from wild fan, however it's all from you. Gotta make your claim on your drummer boy.

Rocker Bakugo who sits you on his lap and tries to teach you how to play the drums. He wraps his hands around yours, has you pick your favorite song and the two of you learn it together. When ever he has free time (which includes the five minutes he has before showtime) he'll sit you down and have you practice.

"Let's see," he pulls you down onto him.

"I'm not there yet," you're all bashful and shy like the other fan girls. You're not really musically inclined, you dabble sure but negotiation's are your world.

"Yeah you are, come on play." He doesn't grab onto your hands this time, forcing you to play on your own.

"How was that," you're eager for his validation.

"Certified drummer baby, might take my job."

"Don't gaslight."

"'M not."

One day he pulls you on stage for an encore. He gets up from his stool, sits you down instead and has the whole band play your favorite song as a live concert.

Rocker Bakugo who plays dumb when you're talking about laws and contracts. You know full well he understands what you're talking about. When everything was young; your relationship, careers, and ages, the two of you went to get your degrees together.

He'd help you study and was one of the top of your class. You both walked the stage together. Fast forward and his degrees just sitting there in his studio while his eye candy of a manager takes care of everything for him.

"What's that," he ask interrupting you when you use a 'big legal word.'

"Katsuki," you whine.

"What? I'm fuckin' confused explain it to me."

"You understand, I know you understand."

"Brain's melted from all those guitar riffs love, nothing in here but music notes."

"Kat," you swat at him.

"Alright fine, like when that sexy voice of yours explains it to me."

"We're not in college anymore."

"Wasn't that long ago."

Rocker Bakugo who slays at guitar hero and has the drum version. When he's pissed he plays, you come home and find him just jamming the fuck out. He's broken the game once or twice it's a pain in the ass to pay. The damn rich boy even owns the arcade version, bakusquad comes over and plays it all the time.

Rocker Bakugo who has to have your validation. (We all know he has an inferiority complex.) Who gets off stage all sweaty and shit, has that smug ass grin on his face. Still without fail always finds you and is like "how'd I do?"

"Sexy as fuck."

"Yeah," he's breathing heavily in your neck. His arms are limp by his sides, muscles sore.

"Yeah," you push his hair out of his face.

Rocker Bakugo who had everyone convinced you were just some girl. You were always with him, even when recording most people kind of just assumed you were some accessory. You always love the reactions you get when you're introduced as his manager.

Rocker Bakugo who people assume doesn't actually love you. The two of you always appear standoff-ish and scary. However this is only because you're always on alert when the two of you are with new people. You're polite but that bubbly personality of yours completely fizzles away. You're his no bullshitting manager and nothing else during those times, all work mode. There's a rule about no PDA as a way to keep up your image and reputation.

It's such a huge contrast from how the two of you are on livestreams and what not.

Rocker Bakugo who low-key has a mommy/daddy kink, and loves your praise. You're unafraid of telling him when's messed up or needs to rehearse something again. And well your boyfriend's learned to swallow your critique. This means that when he does do something perfect the first time he expects you to hang it up on the fridge.

"Again," you're leaning up against the wall on the opposite side of the room. The darkness of the rest of the space makes you seem barely there, you're like a phantom.

"Again," he growls back at you. The rest of the group is watching with open eyes weary of what is going to happen next.

"Are your muscles cramping?"

"No."

"Are you hungry?"

"No," his voice gets louder.

"Thirty?"

"No," and louder.

"Am I overworking you then?"

"no," and louder.

"Well then do you think you can play it right this time?" Your words make everyone in the room wince, except for your boyfriend. His jaws clenched biting the words he so desperately wants to shout.

"Yeah," he barks at you.

"Good," you lean back against the wall adjusting your shoulders for comfort. "Again."

Rocker Bakugo who fights with you sometimes. "What kind of contract is that," he snarls at you.

"Katsuki what you're asking me for doesn't exist."

"Then make it happen."

"It doesn't work like that, this is difficult."

"It always is."

"Oh don't give me that, you know damn well this is hard. Actually I bet you don't, I bet you haven't even looked at it." You scoff shaking your head, "you're bitching to me about something you know nothing about."

"Bullshit," he spats.

"Yeah ok."

"And what was that shit during practice," his hand is flat on your desk. Your study smells like him and you're not quite sure how you feel about that. It's like he's invaded your space.

"That shirt during practice was me trying to make you better."

"Yeah right," he sneers putting his other hand down on the desk.

"Not everyone's got it out for you Katsuki." You rise from your seat so that you may now stand behind your desk. "You know what Dyna-mighT I can just pack up and leave. I mean you wouldn't want to sleep next to a greedy traitor." You walk out from behind your desk, "you poor fucking cash cow," you glare at him. "I loved you before all of this, when we were broke fucking high school kids."

"Not true."

"Yeah because your mommy and daddy had money to back you up." You point to yourself, "I didn't have that though. I went out on a limb because I believed in you, I took a leap of faith because I trusted the net would appear. This," you bring your finger down onto your desk, "is my income. We don't have to love each other but I am not losing this job."

"Because you made me right, you made me want I am now." He's snarling at your back, you're only a couple steps away from the door.

You snort, "you made yourself. You're really fucking smart, and your gorgeous too but FUCK do you let your insecurity get in the way. And it's my fault for making your ego bigger, this wasn't all you. Go through those records and try and tell me I haven't done some crazy shit for you. Go through documents, interviews, concerts, post, look and compare old contracts."

"Bullshit, I know people that can do better."

"Than go find them," you wave him off.

"You're just a fucking manager-"

"And you're just a fucking cash cow," you slam the door behind you.

#x reader #bakugou katsuki #rocker #drummer boy #manager #Rocker Bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #argument #highschool sweethearts #headcanon #insecurity #mutual praise #protective

[gardenofnoah]

until the wheels fall off

summary: you’ve all worked hard to see your dream come to fruition—but nothing can last forever, and there’s poison in the water that runs deeper than you knew. it doesn’t matter what katsuki says—everyone has a limit, and you seem hell bent on finding his.

wc: 11k, crossposted to AO3

tags: band!au, drummer!bkg, denki and shinsou play the guitar, vocalist!reader, reader drinks to cope, absent parent/abandonment, jealousy, smut, hurt/comfort, childhood best friends to lovers (hints at soulmates but no direct mention of it), fluff, anxiety, mentions of vomit, happy ending♡

You don’t know when it started. Part of you believes it’s always been there–as innate as the knowledge of breathing. Loving him was too involuntary to have ever been given a choice at whether you’d be wise in doing it.

You snort at the thought–how cliché.

You watch him from the other end of the bar and your throat burns as the whiskey slips down it. It’s become a nightly ritual for you all, though maybe it shouldn’t–tracking down the dingiest, little hole-in-the-wall bars you can find in the city you’re in for the night. Wake up, drive, showtime, drink time–every night for the last month. You should be grateful that your little quartet has gotten enough recognition in the last few years to be able to pull off a headlining tour, and you are. You’re just–feeling a little hollow, too.

Katsuki is how he always is–indifferent to the women surrounding him, nursing a beer and leaning over to mutter something to Denki over the noise of the cooing and fawning–and something about it makes you burn. You want to believe that you are nostalgic for the time long past, when it was just the four of you, coming up through the underground, trying to make a name for yourselves.

You know that’s not it, though.

You burn because he’s yours, and you feel monumentally foolish at the possessiveness that tears you up on the inside. You fight fire with fire and take another swig, chasing the way your nerves will dull by the time the drink runs empty. There’s no reason for jealousy–these are your fans, the ones you’ve all worked so hard to attract–and yet.

Or maybe it’s because he’s not yours–not really. This band was the joint dream of the two of you–started in your mother’s basement when you were children. Tiny noisemakers that only wanted to play, who grew and learned and realized that what you could do together had the potential to really be something. You pulled in Denki and Shinsou, and then it became what it is now–the up and coming indie band reaching more milestones than you ever thought it would. But the more you reach, the more you feel the need to sink your claws into him–to tether him to you. It strikes you as a little ironic that you’ve worked as hard as you have, only to be the thing that wishes to hold him back.

____________________________________________________________

The first time you were truly recognized was a shock to you all–you had been huddled in the living room of your shitty little apartment–writing, planning, daydreaming–when you got the call from your newly-acquired manager that your last single had been added to the Spotify artists to watch playlist. Denki hooped and hollered, clamoring over Shinsou in his excitement, when you felt the weight of strong arms pulling you back into a broad chest. Katsuki said nothing, just rested his chin on your head while you both watched Denki victimize your poor bandmate, and you found that you cared more for the feeling of the embrace of your childhood best friend than you did the recognition you’d worked so hard for.

It was then that you realized you were well and truly fucked.

____________________________________________________________

Two years later, here you are–nursing a too-strong drink in the corner of a bar you don’t know the name of. Shinsou sits to your right, and watches you watch Katsuki for longer than any friend should. He clears his throat and you jump, having completely forgotten he was there.

“You know,” he starts, leaning in closer to you so he doesn’t have to shout over the noise, “You could just tell him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes as he tips back his own beer. “Sure,” he says, setting it down on the bartop with a soft clink, “and I was born yesterday.”

Stupid, idiot Shinsou, with his too-honed people reading skills, figured out your infatuation with your bandmate far earlier than even you did. He’d kept it between the two of you, and you were grateful for it. Even if he still pestered you about it when the opportunity presented itself.

“I’m just saying–it’s not like the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“You don’t know that,” you say too sharply.

“Oh, please,” he waves a hand, dismissing you and your sudden hostility, “We’re around each other constantly. Whatever shit you guys have going on is damn near suffocating.”

You don’t believe him. It’s always been different with you and Katsuki, because you’ve just always had each other. You quite literally haven’t gone a day without him–your mothers were next door neighbors and close friends, so it was either your house or his, every day. That kind of proximity gave way to a friendship that was, and is still, unlike your other relationships. And when you started writing songs together, that brought you even closer–exchanging pieces of yourselves with each other to create something meaningful to both of you. There was never an opportunity to hide, to withdraw–you had always bared yourselves to one another. For some reason, laying yourself down at his feet made more sense than anything else ever did.

You wave a hand at the bartender, motioning for another drink. Shinsou eyes you, and you ignore it, not wanting to hear the lecture about how you’ve had enough. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him focus on something above your head, and your stomach drops at the grin that spreads across his face.

“Here comes your leash,” he whispers to you, kicking your shin softly under the bar. You don’t have time to retort–a heavy weight against your back cuts you off.

“Fuck are you doin’?” Katuski mutters into your ear, leaning against you, forcing you to brace yourself with a hand against the bar. There’s no heat in his words, but there’s something else–something that makes your chest squeeze when you realize it might be concern.

“Ordering a drink,” you tell him plainly, like there’s no reason he should be asking you that. Nevermind that it’s a little slurred when it comes out of your mouth.

“How many have you had?”

“I–uh. Two.”

He looks at Shinsou for confirmation, who only shakes his head. He lets out a heavy sigh, holding out a hand in front of the bartender, stopping them from setting the drink down.

“No more. We’re leaving.”

He ignores your arguments and all but hauls you off the bar stool, dragging you outside with Denki and Shinsou. You berate him until you step outside–the cold air making you shiver, cutting off your complaints. He throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as he leads you back to the tour bus parked down a few blocks. Your hazy mind tells you to press further into the warmth of his body, but you have enough sense to stop that thought before it becomes an action. You hear his voice in your ear and fight the urge to close your eyes.

“What’s been goin’ on with you?”

The cold is sobering, but not nearly enough to make it easy to have this conversation. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth and to speak feels like too much effort, so you manage a little hm? in response, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. You wonder who allowed such an uneven sidewalk to be put here as you stumble over it.

Katuski’s grip on you tightens. You think you hear his teeth crunch together with the way he grits them before relaxing his jaw. You wonder if it’s out of anger, and if he’s been shoving it down for a while.

“Why’ve you been drinking so much?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” you say through a hiccup, and you realize that it’s for the second time tonight. Deny until it’s true, you think. Deny until you believe it, too.

That stops him in his tracks, and you hear Denki and Shinsou stop behind you.

“Go on,” Katuski tells them over his shoulder, “we’ll be there in a minute.”

You watch them walk ahead, whispering lowly to each other. You get the sneaking suspicion that they’re talking about the two of you, and then you laugh a little, because of course they are. Katsuki waits until they’re out of sight, and then turns you–a little abruptly, making your head spin–to face him. You want to shrink from his stare, because he’s never looked at you like this and it stings like a slap.

“Listen, if this is too much for you and you need to stop, we can. M’not gonna to watch you–”

“Kat,” you cut him off, mustering all of your consciousness to speak clearly, “I’m fine. Just had a little too much tonight, that’s all.”

He eyes you, clearly not convinced. “It’s not just tonight. You’ve been doin’ this–”

“I said I’m fine,” you say, and you can’t help the edge in your voice. You pause and suck in a breath, a last ditch effort to compose yourself. Knowing that it might work on anyone else, but not the man who has you by the shoulders right now. You try anyway.

“Really,” you tell him, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrist and feeling the muscle strain underneath them. Wondering distantly if he knows that his grip might be bruising. Or you think it would be, if you could feel it. “I promise I’m okay. Thanks for checking on me.”

He holds your gaze for a long while, and you hope he’s not looking too deeply into you. Hope that he could go easy on you, just this once.

“M’gonna be watching you,” he warns, but his voice is soft. You smile at him, and it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’d hope so.”

_______________________________________________________________

There’s something that happens when you’re on stage. You’ve never been able to put it into words. Before you’d all had your taste of the limelight, you were terrified of it–terrified of opening yourself up to a crowd of people, displaying your insides like a sick game of show-and-tell while they looked on. And for a while, it was hard–you leaned on the boys considerably to help you through it.

Now, years later, things are different. You still need your boys–just not in the same way.

Waiting in the wings, you feel it again–the calm that settles over you like a thick blanket. You close your eyes, letting the guitar riffs that Shinsou and Denki play wash over you. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve heard them play it–the opener is always your favorite part. You feel like you are drifting through a bottomless ocean–just floating, willingly exposed and vulnerable. Your music is just that–ethereal, unsettling. Like you feel yourself getting comfortable but shouldn’t.

You feel the heavy beat begin from Katsuki, and you open your eyes.

From where you stand, you’re able to see the complete profile of him. It never fails to leave you a little breathless–for someone that is always set on a hair trigger, watching him settle into a place of serenity while he plays has always captivated you. The tension he holds so closely leaves him almost entirely– his body moves intuitively, and you think he could play just as well in the dark. You begin your own walk to the front of the stage, mourning the sight at your back. Lamenting that you should’ve made the intro to this song way, way longer.

The crowd lets out a collective cheer at your approach, and it never fails to make you smile. All at once it feels like coming home–the show-and-tell feeling turning into a mutual give and take between you and those in front of you. When you reach for your microphone and begin, it’s less of a performance and more of a conversation–calling in every single person in the audience, and inviting them into the story you’re weaving. It helps that this venue is as beautiful as it is–tall arches and ornate woodwork allow you to slip further into the character you’ve carefully crafted. Something opens inside of you, and you have no qualms about letting it out to roam freely.

Tonight is a good night, and you all feel it. The song wraps up and you turn to face the boys, immediately laughing at the overzealous thumbs up Denki gives you. Shinsou nods at you approvingly, and when you meet Katsuki’s gaze, it nearly knocks you breathless. He’s wide open and you can see it in his face. He holds you there for what feels like forever, and you have to reach back to grab at the microphone stand to steady yourself. He’s seemingly forgiven your trespasses from last night, the look of concern having given way to something approaching adoration. He mouths a small you okay? and you swear you hear it inside your head like he’s right next to you. You grin at him, showing your teeth as you nod your head. He rewards you with that tiny, devastating smirk on that stupid, beautiful face and you turn on your heel, shaking your head to snap out of it.

“Anyway…” you drawl into the mic, pulling the shawl you wear into yourself dramatically and laughing a little at the knowing whistles from the crowd, “how are we doing tonight?”

____________________________________________________________

“What was that?” Denki all but screeches, shaking you by the shoulders as you all walk out of the venue. He’s nearly jumping up and down on the sidewalk in his excitement, and it’s so infectious that you feel it start to move through you, too.

“Dude,“ he says, very serious in his expression, still both grabbing and pushing at you like he can’t contain the feeling inside his body–or even decide what that feeling is– “you were on fuckin’ fire!”

You laugh at that, feeling a little bashful. It was still jarring, even now–when the lights go out, you return to the person you were before. Everything has changed and everything is still the same as it always was. It feels too much like a rough comedown.

“You guys were great,” you say, and you mean it, “I’m only as good as you are.”

“Nah,” Shinsou’s voice comes from behind, trapping a still-bubbling Denki in a headlock to get him off of you, “Denki sucked. Something was different tonight with you.”

Shinsou ignores the indignant hey! from the man in his grasp as he tows him down the street, creating some distance between the two of them and you and Katsuki. You don’t doubt for a second that he’s doing it on purpose. For as sharp-edged and painfully honest as Shinsou might be, he really could be a great wingman.

Like you’ve summoned him with your thoughts, Katsuki’s matching your stride beside you. He pulls your arm toward him, looping it though his own.

“They’re right, you know.”

“Yeah?” you smile up at him, wiggling your eyebrows a little bit. “Gonna sing your praises to me, too?”

His free hand comes up to cover your face, pushing you away from him, despite your arm still looped in his. He lets out the most dramatic noise of disgust you’ve ever heard when you stick your tongue out to lick his palm.

“God, you’re gross,” he shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and you think you’d do it a hundred more times if it meant you could see him like this again.

It’s quiet between you as you walk–comfortably so. You let yourself lean into his side a little bit, just to see if he’ll shove you off–if he thinks you’re messing with him. He doesn’t, so you stay.

“Do you ever worry?” you ask suddenly, shaking yourself from your reverie with a question you didn’t know you wanted an answer to.

“Mm?”

“About, like…the sustainability of this. Like it’s great, of course. It’s awesome that we have this momentum now. But it can’t last forever, right?”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you can feel him thinking it over. You keep walking, arm through his, and you focus on the cloud of steam your breath releases into the cold in front of you–suddenly a little nervous to hear his response.

“It probably won’t last forever,” he says, with a confidence that jars you a bit, “but it doesn’t have to.”

He says it with such finality that you’re not sure how to respond. You’re torn from your thoughts when he pulls you to a stop next to him.

“Hey,” he calls to you gently, and you meet his gaze. He has that look again from before, except there’s no crowd here to pull you away from it. You have no choice but to surrender to it.

“I’m ridin’ this train til the wheels fall off,” he grins, holding out a pinky to you in a gesture that has something inside you mourning over the days of childhood pinky promises long behind you, “me and you til then, yeah?”

You wrap your pinky around his, smiling softly. “Til the wheels fall off.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s unfortunate, the way you test the strength of that promise weeks later.

You’ve all just wrapped up the last show of the tour, back again in some random, back alley bar. Denki had suggested it and Katsuki had protested, clearly wishing to avoid a repeat of your last few experiences. You’d waved him off, telling him it’d be good to get out one last time. He and Shinsou had exchanged looks, no doubt some silent agreement assigning the purple haired man to babysit you all night. So be it, you’d thought. You’d be fine.

An hour in, you realize that you definitely won’t be fine.

You and Shinsou sit at one end of the bar–he’s drawing diagrams on a napkin, which are supposedly guitar tabs but look to you like a foreign language. All at once you feel an acute sense of anxiety–one you’d been feeling over the length of the tour, that is apparently coming to a head right now.

You flag the bartender down for another drink–straight liquor, your second of the last hour. Shinsou clears his throat next to you.

“You think that’s a good idea?” he asks lowly, trying and failing to catch your eyes.

You wave him off, not bothering with a reply as you take a too-big sip of your now full drink. It doesn’t have the effect that you’d hoped for, and you feel the anxiety climb higher still up your throat.

It’s not clear to you at first why you feel like this–you know tomorrow you will go home and start thinking about new music, the next project, like you always do. But there’s also the sinking feeling that you’ll be alone for the first time in two months.

At some point in the last few years, the four of you had made enough money to find your own living spaces. You’re still close–you all live in the same building–but there are far more walls, literal and metaphorical, that separate you now. The boys all have side gigs and brand deals, things separate from you.

You have this. You have put the entirety of your being into this band, and it is all you have.

There’s part of you that fears the end will come sooner for you than the rest–that the decision to put all of your eggs in this particular basket was the wrong one. Not because you feel any sense of regret, but because there is a part of you that fears the inevitable abandonment, should any of the boys start to feel like they have nothing left to give to you.

Rationally, you know it’s not true. You know that the commitments they have made to you and the band are genuine and strong. You know that Katsuki does not make promises he can’t keep.

But right now, you’re wound up and unpleasantly drunk, and when you turn to your left, you see Katsuki with a woman you’ve never seen before. You don’t look at her face—you don’t care to, because you are so fixated on Katsuki’s. For the first time, he’s not immediately indifferent–he even looks mildly interested, talking low with heads tilted toward one another in a display that looks sickeningly intimate while she shows him something on her phone, and something inside you shatters.

You tip the rest of your drink back, and order another.

“Whoa, hey,” Shinsou’s voice comes from your left, sounding genuinely startled now. “What are you doing?”

You feel the break outwardly, like it’s done its damage on the inside and is now trying to find a way out. Shinsou follows your gaze toward Katsuki’s seat, immediately understanding.

“Stop,” he tells you, in a firmness you haven’t heard before, “You don’t know what that is.”

You shake your head, smiling a little, but it’s sad and broken and stuns Shinsou silent. You throw your full-again drink back with a speed that nearly triggers your gag reflex. You bow your head for a moment, taking a deep breath in, trying to steady yourself. Nevermind the spinning walls around you. It all has to come down sometime.

“What’s it matter?” you ask, a little too loudly, “It wasn’t going to last forever.”

You know that the last drink was a mistake when you nearly topple over yourself trying to get down from the barstool. Shinsou grabs your arm to steady you and you wrench away from him, throwing yourself off balance again. You hear him hiss at you to be careful, and then that people are staring, but it’s too late. It happens slowly, which you find strange–you’re falling and then you’re not, and instead someone has you by your armpits, all but dragging you outside. You don’t realize you’re standing upright until Katsuki is in front of you–glaring down at you, all anger and something far worse–something that looks a lot like disappointment.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he spits out, and it’s all you can do to stare at him, because everything is still spinning and for as angry as he’s always been, it’s never, ever been pointed at you.

You can’t get your mouth to catch up with your brain, and then it doesn’t matter at all because you realize with startling clarity that you’re going to vomit. You have the wherewithal to lurch into the nearby alley, and it’s a struggle to keep yourself upright–bracing yourself on the slimy, damp brick of the building in front of you while you empty your stomach onto the street.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hear beside you, and everything is fuzzy–you lean your forehead against the wall in front of you, trying to find some semblance of equilibrium. You feel the weight of your hair lift from your neck, but you can’t get your mouth to form a thank you.

It’s another five minutes before you’re confident that your stomach has settled. You push off the wall, slowly, testing out your balance. It’s still shit, as it turns out–Katsuki catches you as you sway a little too far to the right. You feel a little like a scruffed kitten, and that makes you laugh, only it comes out choked because you feel tears coming and there’s no defense left to stop them.

“What is goin’ on with you?” he asks, still incredulous but subdued now, bringing a thumb up to swipe at your tears. He’s soft again in the way that’s familiar to you, and that makes it hard to stop the wobble of your lip or the whimper that punches its way out of your mouth.

“Oi,” he half-barks, now closer to you—letting you lean into his chest to keep you steady. He brings a hand up to hold the back of your head and you squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly feeling sick again. Knowing it has nothing to do with the alcohol.

“Start talkin’,” and you know it’s not a suggestion, and you think that it’s so unfair that he couldn’t wait until morning to ask you this, when you’d certainly be a little more guarded. But he doesn’t, and you think that it’s on purpose, and you know you can’t stop yourself.

“You’re…gonna leave me,” you whimper, and it comes out slurred and broken and so pathetic–you almost wish you were still puking because it would be less mortifying than this, “you all–you’ll all leave and,” you cut yourself off with a stuttered breath, “I’ll be by myself again.”

And you don’t dare look at him right now, so you stand there with your eyes closed, pressing your forehead into his collarbone, praying that the earth opens wide and swallows you whole. It occurs to you a moment later that he’s still holding you there, and he hasn’t said anything. It’s another before you hear him sigh–deeply, like it’s effort, and then your feet aren’t touching the ground anymore. He maneuvers you onto his back, ignoring your weak groans of protest.

“You need to hold on,” he tells you over his shoulder.

You try your best to–your arms circle around his neck, but it feels like all of the strength has left your body. He leans forward to compensate, making sure you don’t fall off of him. He starts walking, and your brain catches up enough to realize after a few moments that he’s not walking toward the bus.

“Where’re we going?”

“Hotel down the street,” he grits out, and it’s short in a way that is so wounding it startles the breath out of you. You put your head down on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut tight, pleading with yourself not to start crying again. If he feels the tears soaking into his shirt, he doesn’t say anything, and you suppose you can be grateful for that.

He doesn’t say anything the whole way there. He walks into the lobby with you still on his back, and you look anywhere but the concierge, a little more sober than you were before and wholly embarrassed. Katsuki hauls you up the stairs to the third floor, opens the door and sets you on the bed. He mutters a quick don’t move and promptly turns, walking away from you and out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

The sound of him walking away seems horrifically amplified–the sound of his footsteps reverberating inside your skull until they fade away. If there was ever a time to feel alone, it’s right now, and you can’t fight the fresh wave of tears that crests so suddenly that it’s startling, even if you knew it was coming. All at once you are 6 years old again, crying for a man that walks away and does not come back.

____________________________________________________________

When Katsuki opens the door again, it startles you awake. You have no idea how much time has passed–it certainly felt like hours. Looking at the clock on the nightstand, it reads 1:45am–so you suppose it couldn’t have been that long. He has a large, plastic grocery bag with him now, and he sets it on the bed next to you, rummaging through it.

“Where’s Denki and Shinsou?” you ask quietly, feeling far too sober and deeply unsettled.

“Took the bus back,” he says matter of factly. He pulls out a sweatshirt and sweatpants that are not yours, and sets them on your lap.

“So–how are we…?”

He pauses, turning his head to look you full in the face. You lean back minutely, needing to pull away from him. The shame comes off you in waves.

“You and I are flying home tomorrow.”

And you say nothing, terribly confused and a little afraid. He sees this on your face and sighs, moving the bag to sit beside you on the bed.

“Whatever this is, the shit you’ve been doing–” he cuts himself off and takes a breath in, like he’s trying to compose himself. He takes in another breath, and tries again.

“Think it’d be good for us to go home for a few days. M’sure my old hag misses you.”

Your mind feels like a thousand puzzle pieces, twisting and sliding past each other. It takes several silent moments before your pieces click, and when they do, the reality is devastating.

He’s taking you home because he can’t deal with this anymore. Because he has nothing left to give you.

“Katsuki,” you choke out, reaching for him across the bed. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his lap and squeezing gently.

“I know,” he murmurs, gently, like he’s trying to placate you, “I know. We’ll figure it out.”

____________________________________________________________

You blink slowly back into consciousness when you hear shuffling somewhere in the room. You turn your head, and the clock reads 9:36AM. You know immediately that Katsuki has been up for hours. You try to raise your head to look for him, and the pain in your skull is so shocking that you gasp, dropping back down into the pillow.

“Here,” Katsuki says from above you, and you crack an eye open to see his palm outstretched, two little tablets tucked inside. You take them gratefully and then grab the glass of water from his other hand, gulping them down without a semblance of grace. The inside of your mouth is gritty and it makes your stomach turn again, despite nothing being in it.

“When are we leaving?” you rasp, not really willing to look at him yet.

“Two hours,” he says, setting a bag on the nightstand next to your head, “there’s breakfast in there, if you want it. You should shower.”

You grimace at that–you don’t think you’ll ever want to eat again. You concede that you probably do stink to death of booze–you sit up, carefully this time, and grab for the sweatset he’d left on the bed last night. It dawns on you that only your side of the bed is disheveled.

“Where did you sleep last night?”

He turns his head to look at you, and the look on his face brings on a new wave of shame that you feel physically. He doesn’t answer–you find that it might be better if you don’t know, because if you did, then you’d know you haven’t asked the right question. You get up without a word and walk into the bathroom, letting the door click shut behind you.

____________________________________________________________

You move through the rest of the morning like a zombie, and you barely register that time has passed at all until you look up and notice that you’re on the airplane. You wonder how you’re even here right now, considering you had none of your things with you when you left the bar last night, but Katsuki has a bag with him that he didn’t before, so you figure he’s got it covered. He’s taken the window seat next to you, and you wonder if it’s because he knows you hate flying. You pull the hood of the sweatshirt that’s not yours up over your head, tightening the strings around your face, not too keen on the chance of anyone recognizing you in this sorry state. The plane begins to move and your breathing picks up, which is embarrassing because of all of the things to make you anxious in the last 24 hours, it feels unnecessary for this to top the list. You try to take in a few deep breaths, and it seems to make the feeling worse. You’re damn near ready to come out of your skin and the plane hasn’t even left the ground yet.

You hear movement next to you–what sounds like plastic clicking together, and then Katsuki has you in his arms–cradling your head into the crook of his neck. The hard underside of the arm rest he’s evidently moved up presses uncomfortably into your side, but you let him hold you because you need it more than anything right now.

“You’re alright,” you feel him press a kiss into the fabric covering your head and it feels so much like grief that you can taste it yourself, “I got you.”

____________________________________________________________

He drops you off in front of your mother’s door in a car that isn’t his a few hours later. You haven’t said a word since before you boarded the plane, and he holds an arm out to stop you from getting out of the car. You turn to look at him, and his face is devoid of almost all emotion. You wonder for whose sake it is that he’s doing that.

“I’ll come over for dinner,” he offers, like it’s a consolation prize. You’d look forward to it if this were any other scenario, but right now it just feels like pity. You shake your head.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” you tell him, and you look down at the arm that’s still extended toward you. He doesn’t move it.

“Oi,” he whispers, prompting you to look at him.

“Til the wheels fall off,” murmured when you do.

You sniff at that, eyes shut tight and nodding sharply because that’s all you can do right now. He squeezes your knee and lets you go.

When you get out of the car, you realize that it’s been a while since you stood on your own.

____________________________________________________________

The reunion with your mother brings fresh tears and hugs that you didn’t realize you missed as badly as you did. She all but drags you inside, shoving you into a seat at the kitchen table. You realize that she knew you were coming, and you wonder if she knows why.

After a moment, she sets a mug of tea down in front of you and takes a seat across from you. You close your eyes and breathe in the aromatic steam, suddenly feeling incredibly homesick despite literally sitting in it. You open your eyes when you feel her hand circle around yours.

“My baby,” she says softly, brushing a thumb over your knuckles, “what’s going on?”

“Oh, mom,” you choke out, pulling away to drop your face into your hands. You hear her drag her chair closer to yours, pulling you into her arms when she’s close enough. She pulls your hood down to run her fingers through your hair, gently cooing to you until your sobs turn into quiet sniffles.

“I don’t know where to start,” you rasp after a moment, sitting up and wiping your eyes with your sleeve. She keeps the proximity, running a hand up and down your back.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

____________________________________________________________

It’s hard to talk about it with your mother. You are terrified of the disappointment–by all accounts it would definitely seem that you deserve it, but it doesn’t come. She sits next to you, rubbing your back and fussing over hairs that hang in your face while you spill your guts onto the table: the fear, the abandonment, the numbing that took it all away until it didn’t. The loneliness that cuts you deeper than you ever thought it could.

“What about our boys?” she asks then, and you smile a little at the way she says it. You know that she loves them as much as you do, which is a funny sight to see–three intimidatingly large, tattooed men huddled around mugs of tea, sitting at your mother’s table. She fawns over them every time you all come around, and it warms you from the inside.

“They’re fine–they’re there, it’s just… I don’t know. I think I’m afraid that one day they might not be, and I don’t know why.”

She looks at you for a moment, like she’s considering her next words.

“I think you might know why, honey.”

You look back at her then, knowing what she’ll say before she says it. Unwilling to say it first.

“It’s hard to trust the word of a man when the one who was supposed to always be there left so suddenly.”

You stare down at your tea, not feeling what you thought you would. Mostly, you know she’s right. You can’t trust yourself to speak yet, so you don’t.

“I can’t know what that was like for you,” she starts softly, hand dropping to squeeze at your knee. Your heart constricts at the way it feels familiar. “And I’m so sorry that it’s something you have to carry with you. But honey, there’s a man next door who’s never known a life without you, and it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of changing that.”

Your throat gets tight and you lean into her shoulder, needing to feel grounded. The room feels like it’s spinning again.

“And of course he can’t replace your father,” she continues, leaning back into you, “but he’s someone that loves you. And that’s something worth keeping around.”

“He was with someone else last night,” you deflect, trying to convince yourself of some falsehood in your mother’s words, “at the bar. I saw them talking together.”

Your mother snorts, loud and obnoxious, like you’ve just told the world’s most ridiculous joke. Despite yourself, you laugh a little, too.

“Mom!”

“Oh, honey,” still chuckling to herself, “I don’t think so.”

“Sometimes we see what we want to see,” she continues, patting your leg, “but you know Kat. And from what I can tell, he’s never had eyes for anyone but you.”

“That’s silly,” you say, still deflecting but knowing that she’s telling the truth. And then, “I think he’s really mad at me.”

“I don’t think he is. He sounded really worried last night.”

You balk at that. “You talked to him?”

“He called to tell me you’d be coming.”

And you’re silent then, because you don’t know what to say. You don’t know if there’s anything you can say. Suddenly you are very, very tired.

“Why don’t you head upstairs?” your mother starts, grabbing the now empty mug from in front of you and walking it to the sink, “Get some sleep–I made your bed up for you. You should talk to him tomorrow.”

You nod, though she can’t see it, and you move to walk up the stairs, but stop short of the first step.

“I love you, mom.”

She turns to give you a soft smile. “I love you, my baby.”

____________________________________________________________

The dream is recurrent–you’ve tried hard to find the meaning of it, but you’re starting to come around to the idea that it might just be a comfort to your subconscious.

You’re five years old, and you don’t yet notice the bad thing that lurks on the edges of your peripheral.

You’re five years old, and everything is as it should be.

You and Katsuki construct a fort out of old sheets and couch cushions. Snow falls outside–the wind sneaks through the shutters and shrieks something menacing. But it’s warm inside, and you’re with Katsuki. You are unafraid.

He has a slight hot chocolate mustache and the tip of his tongue pokes out between the gap in his teeth, all of his focus on weaving the sheets together to create the walls of your fortress. You preoccupy yourself with the decor–you pick up a pillow and put it somewhere else, grab your mother’s potted plant and bring it in, even though it takes up too much space.

Katsuki finishes the skeleton of the structure in no time, and he joins you on the same cushion, despite you bringing in nearly every cushion in the house. You both dig into the coloring books your mother left out for you, and in no time you’ve grown bored of them–you opt to doodle on each other instead.

You draw something resembling a heart over the first joint in his thumb–a little oblong and colored outside your shaky lines. He watches you while you do it–the seeds of something old rooting into something else that he is far too young to understand. You look up at him when it’s finished and you beam, all crooked baby teeth and giggles. He goes bright red and shoves at you, shrieking about how it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. He can do much better, he says, so he grabs your thumb and proves it to you.

It’s certainly not any better–you don’t tell him that, though. You just smile and flex your thumb, watching it move with your skin. He puts an arrow through his–bold and cartoonish, like the old animation of Cupid’s arrow. It tickles when the marker passes over the edge of your palm, and he barks at you to stop squirming.

Your mother comes in with snacks and finds the two of you covered in marker. She doesn’t yell–she just shakes her head, laughing and looking at the two of you with an expression only to be interpreted as a soft fondness. She pulls out her camera to take a picture–makes the two of you hold hands to capture the hearts you drew.

Whether it’s the beginning of the end or the end of the beginning, you can’t be sure.

____________________________________________________________

You wake up feeling more rested than you did before, and without a hangover, for the first time in a while.

Once you’re dressed, you take a few bites from the breakfast sandwich your mother has laid out for you, and you walk out the side door, walking the few steps to Katsuki’s mother’s porch. The morning sun on your skin feels good–it’s a warmth you know you needed. You reach for the door, but you stop in your tracks when you hear his voice on the other side of it.

“I don’t know how t’make it better, ma,” he says, and it wounds you in a way you weren’t expecting, “I just want to help and I don’t know how.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and then his mother speaks. “It’s not yours to make better, Katsuki. There were terrible things that happened when you both were growing up that certainly don’t help what’s happening now.

“All you can do is be there–be a safe person to turn to,” she continues, and it’s all you can do not to sniff and give yourself away, “Things will change. It takes time.”

“I don’t care about that shit,” he grits out, but there’s no hostility in it, “Doesn’t matter how long it takes, I’ll be there. S’just–hard. To watch.”

You’re not sure you can stand to listen anymore, so you make a big production out of opening the door, making sure to alert them both to your presence. You walk into his mother’s kitchen–it’s been years since you’ve been here, and yet you’d know the layout with your eyes closed.

“Ah, my other child,” she says, standing to hug you. She kisses your cheek and shoves you down in the seat she’s just gotten up from. “You sit. I’ll make myself scarce.”

You ease into the seat awkwardly, avoiding Katsuki’s gaze. It’s quiet between you. You have no idea where to start, so you pick at the edge of the table cloth in front of you.

“You okay?” he asks softly, like if he’s too loud, it’ll bruise you. You hate it. You feel your face heat and you know you’re going to cry and you hate that too.

You summon all of your bravery and give him a watery, pathetic little smile. “No, I’m not.”

His brows furrow and he leans forward, like he wants to reach for you but stops himself. Thinks better of it. You’re almost fascinated by how hard it is for you to tell him the truth right now. You do it anyway.

“I’m—there’s a lot that I need to work through. More than I thought, evidently,” you laugh a little, and it’s all self-deprecating. You pick at a hangnail. “That’s not an excuse for what I’ve been doing, I know that. I just—“

You suck in a breath, quickly losing your resolve. Needing to lean on him one more time.

“I’m really sorry, Kat,” you choke out, finally looking up at him. Whatever he sees on your face has him out of his seat in an instant and pulling you out of yours in the next, crushing you to his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline.

“I know I’m not good right now,” you say into his shirt through shuddering breaths, “I just, I’m really sorry, I don’t want you to worry–”

He moves you back to look at your face, which makes you grimace because it is almost certainly pathetic and snot covered.

“Hey,” he rasps, with far more emotion than you were anticipating, “none of that. I know. And m’always going to worry about you, you little idiot.”

You choke out a laugh at that and it softens him. He pulls you back to his chest and you feel his kiss to the top of your head.

“M’not leaving you,” he whispers into your hair, “not ever. Don’t you ever say that shit to me again.”

You want to apologize again but you know he’ll wave you off, so you just press your face further into his chest and nod.

You stand there for a while, wrapped up in him in his mother’s kitchen, before he reaches into his back pocket to grab something. He offers it to you, and it takes a second before you realize it’s your phone.

“Let dumb and dumber know you’re alive,” he says, arms still wrapped around you, “they were worried.”

You smile at that, feeling an overwhelming fondness for the men in your life. You keep an arm around Katsuki and shoot them a text with the other: i’m home and alive. love u both, talk soon. You barely have it back in your pocket before it vibrates, several times in succession, alerting you to what is almost certainly a very animated response from Denki. You realize in that moment how much you miss him.

“Stay here tonight,” Katsuki murmurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. You think back to all of the nights that you camped out in his backyard as children, with him promising to keep you safe, in his own jagged, self-inflated way. You think about how everything has changed, and everything has stayed the same.

It’s an easy yes.

____________________________________________________________

You go back and forth between houses for the next week. He gives you a little space during the day–time with your mom, time to yourself. You write some, but mostly you focus on being present. You try to stop the daydreams as they come–try to keep yourself from yearning for a different future, or ruminating on the past, so you can see where you are now. It’s easier said than done, but it’s less difficult in the evenings, when Katsuki returns and your mind quiets all other thoughts but those of him.

Freshly showered and towel clad, you’re laid across your childhood twin bed when you hear the screen door open and then close, and your heart picks up when you hear your mother greet him.

He makes it up the stairs quicker than you thought he would. You let your eyes rake over him, realizing that it’s been a while since you could really get a good look at him. He has old sweats on and he’s leaned up against your doorframe, regarding you with the same level of scrutiny, arms folded over his chest. He’s so beautiful it makes you ache.

Your eyes drift to his hands–each tucked underneath the opposite armpit– and you catch a glimpse of the thing you will always seek out: the red, misshapen curve of the heart you drew on him, etched into his skin forever. You lift your own hand up, holding it above your head to examine it. It’s there, on the first joint of your thumb like you knew it would be. The arrow has faded and blurred with time, but you turn your hand and find it still pointing straight at your heart.

You’d gotten them together, shortly after making the decision to start the band– an ode to the history behind you. But the meaning has shifted in the years since–you wonder if he feels it, too. The quiet nostalgia of the moment has your head swimming a little bit, and you don’t have it in you to stop the words that come out of your mouth.

“I love you.”

His mouth ticks up at the corner, but he doesn’t move. “I know that.”

You sit up–slowly, making sure the towel stays put–and meet his eyes. “Do you?”

He says nothing–just gestures for you to come closer with the tilt of his chin.

You push yourself up off the bed and walk toward him–awfully, awkwardly aware of your own gait–until you’re chest to chest. He unfolds his arms and reaches up to pluck the towel off your head, flinging it to the floor behind you. You squawk at him, scrambling to brush the hair that falls in your face away. He just grins, reaching to brush a few stray strands out of the way himself. The pad of his thumb lingers on your cheekbone, trailing down to brush across the plush of your bottom lip, until it settles at your chin. He grabs you there and tilts your face up to him.

“Ruined me for anyone else the day y’were born,” he breathes, and it’s so nonchalant you’d think it was just a passing thought for him, like it doesn’t shake something fundamental and ancient inside of you, “Loved you every day since.”

“You never told me,” you say, and it’s hushed–you bring both hands up to splay them across his chest, the image of his heart above the one that beats. You feel its pace pick up beneath your fingers.

“No,” he says, running his thumb around the edge of your jaw, “was waitin’ for you to see it.”

You hum a little, turning your face into his touch–nuzzling into the place where you’ve marked him forever. “And now?”

He lets his fingers drift downward, finding a new home wrapped around the nape of your neck. You let out a little sigh, and he looks pleased.

“I want to show you.”

You smile, tilting your head back to look at him fully. “Okay.”

He drops his head down until his face hovers above yours, and he tilts a little so your foreheads bump together. Both of you stay there, content to breathe and just feel, until you push up, needing more of him. He lets you brush your lips over his, savoring the soft press of your mouth, keeping you still with the hand on your neck. You do this until you both start to lose your patience, and you kiss him with more force–you hope that it does a better job of translating your feelings than you have. He’s warm and much softer than you expected, and he takes over all of your senses. There’s something both very old and novel in the way he kisses you, and behind your eyes you see a reel of the two of you, from figuring out how to walk with wobbly baby legs, to creating something far larger than the two of you–all together. It brings the sting of tears to the surface when you break apart to breathe. He kisses a stray droplet away, cradling your face in his hands.

“My little crybaby,” he coos, and you punch at his side lightly, making him chuckle.

“You’re mine, Katsuki,” you tell him, grimacing a little bit at the memory of him and that random woman at the bar. You know you are being out of your mind insane right now, but the jealousy still coils in your gut.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “‘Course I am.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on him. “I need you to tell me.”

He presses his forehead to yours, walking you back until the backs of your knees tap your mattress. You sit, and he stands between your legs, eyes looking way, way too far into you. His hand comes up to hold your face, and the way you lean into it feels like muscle memory.

“There’s nobody for me but you,” he says, and you feel like if you blink you’ll miss something important in the way he’s looking at you, “M’yours. Always was. Always will be.”

And it’s then that you decide to do something so stupidly embarrassing that you regret it almost immediately: you hold your pinky out to him.

He blinks down at you for a second before a slow smile stretches across his face. It’s one of the most genuine you’ve ever seen on him, and when he wraps his pinky around yours and brings it to his lips, you think for the second time that you are well and truly fucked. You always would be when it came to Katsuki. But he doesn’t make promises he can’t keep.

You let out a little laugh, one that’s more incredulous than anything. “I feel out of my mind,” you tell him, leaning forward to press your face into his stomach, “do you think it always feels like this?”

“Dunno,” he says through his grin, scratching gently over your scalp, “Maybe. There’re plenty of songs about it.”

He leads you down to the bed and you go willingly, pliant against him as he settles in next to you. It’s a tight fit, especially with the way he takes up the majority of the space with his broad shoulders. You find that you don’t mind too much.

You lay your head on his chest and his arm wraps around you, fingertips brushing over your spine and dipping below the top of your towel to rub at the skin it squeezes.

“I love you,” you whisper, and you find that now that you’ve said it, you’d like to scream it from the highest peak you can find.

“I love you,” he returns, and you can’t get enough of the way it rumbles through his chest underneath you.

“Tell me again,” you tell him, twisting to look up at him. He shifts then, rolling you onto your back and hovering above you, propped up on one elbow. His fingers card through the hair just past your temple and you have to fight to keep your eyes open.

“I love you,” he says, bending to press a kiss to your lips.

____________________________________________________________

You don’t know when you fall asleep, but when you wake up it’s not yet dawn, and you are tucked into Katsuki’s armpit as he hangs halfway off the bed. It makes you smile, and it also makes you grateful that he didn’t turn over and take you off the bed with him. You shift, and realize you’re still wrapped in your towel. You look at his sleeping form, and then down at your towel again. It takes another moment of deliberation before you think, fuck it, and rip the thing off of you, dropping it onto the floor.

You finally settle back down into the bed and startle when you feel fingertips brush over your spine.

“Sorry,” you whisper, leaning toward him to press a kiss to his jaw, “did I wake you up?”

He hums, low and gravelly in his chest, and it makes you feel far too warm as he pulls you to his chest. He’d gotten rid of his sweatshirt at some point in the night—you realize now that you’re chest to chest. He notices at about the same time, head snapping up off the pillow to look at you. You feel your face heat.

“I’m sorry, I fell asleep with the towel on and didn’t want to get up, I can put something on—“

“Like hell you will,” he cuts you off, arm tightening behind you. “Feels nice.”

And it makes you smile, because it does feel nice.

He curls his body around you, leaning down to smother the side of your face in kisses. It makes you shriek, shoving at him playfully.

“Gross, stop it,” you groan, not making any real attempt to get him off of you.

“Fuck no,” he grins, kissing you again, “You’re so beautiful.”

Hearing it from Katsuki does something to you—settles the part of you that worries that you’re not enough to keep him here. It seems silly then, to keep hiding from him—to keep pieces of yourself from him in the hopes that he’ll stay long enough to try to find them. You want him to see you. You feel particularly brave and roll over onto your back, watching his eyes widen at the way you are laid completely bare for him.

He lets out a long, low breath, and you feel it when it brushes over your chest—nipples pebbling in the cold air.

He props himself up for a better view, unashamed in the way he studies you so intensely, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed.

He reaches for you then—you close your eyes when his fingertips brush over your brow bone, content to feel the way he explores. Time moves slowly, and he takes advantage of every second that stretches before him—he’s fixated on the juncture of your jaw and your throat, and you burn under his touch. You let out a shaky exhale at the graze of his fingers down the center of your throat.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, except he’s far closer now, and you only have a second for this to register before the warmth of his hand wraps around the side of your neck to hold you there while his mouth explores the other. He’s still soft—far softer than you would ever expect him to be, all soft lips and warm, sweeping tongue—and it’s such a shock to all of your senses that you can’t help but let out a broken little whimper of his name.

He pulls back when he hears it, and you turn your head to argue but something in his face makes you pause.

If you thought you had a window into Katsuki’s soul before, this moment is the one to knock the whole house down. You hear it like he’s whispered it to you: I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Kat, I—“

He cuts you off with a kiss that brings tears to your eyes—soft but firm, as claiming as it is chaste. “I know sweetheart,” he whispers, forehead to yours. In the dark, you’re sure he’s brighter than the sun right now. You roll to your side, chest to chest again, and kiss him just because you can—because you love him and it would feel like torture to do anything else.

He presses kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, and down the stretch of your throat—you shiver when his tongue laves at the point where your shoulder meets it. He finds your hand and drags it to his lips, mouth trailing over every inch of arm he can reach. Making sure to press a kiss to his heart on your hand.

“Not gonna fuck you,” he says plainly against your wrist, shocking a laugh out of you, “not gonna put your mom through that. I jus’ wanna feel you.”

“A little presumptuous, but okay,” you tease, but it only comes out breathless when his fingers trail over your collarbone and down your breast, apparently content to test the validity of your statement.

He leaves a trail of heat with his touch that makes it hard to keep your eyes open, but you can’t bear to miss the way he pulls pleasure from you with the smallest effort. He learns your body with no agenda—he truly just wants to feel you, but it doesn’t stop you from squirming at the way his fingers brush over your nipples.

It makes him grin, but he doesn’t stop—he just moves on, thumb grazing the skin under your breast, down to the soft of your belly. He lets out a low moan when he feels you there—you don’t think he even knows he did it and it makes you squeeze your thighs together and turn your face into the pillow, fighting like hell to compose yourself.

You feel his calloused palm smooth over the curve of your hip and down to your knee. His fingers curve around the back of it, pulling it up and over his hip. Air brushes over your now exposed sex and your mouth drops open with a whine, far more sensitive than you were anticipating.

“Katsuki, I can’t, I—“

He shushes you with a brush of his lips over yours—sweet and far more innocent than you would prefer.

“Please touch me,” you whimper against his mouth, and you feel the slow grin spread across his face.

“You gonna be quiet?”

You nod like your life depends on it, and he chuckles, a little dark in a way that has your stomach churning.

He pulls back a little to watch your face as he brushes the backs of his knuckles over your slit. It pulls a moan from both of you, and you can’t look away from him as he brings his hand to his face, swiping his tongue over every knuckle. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, like it’s suddenly too much for him. Like he needs to ground himself to keep from taking from you like he wants to.

His hand slips down between you again, cupping you firmly, and your whole body bucks. You lean forward to hide your face in his neck, unable to keep from dragging your aching clit over the heel of his palm.

“There y’go,” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the skin just below it, “does that feel good?”

You bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out after a particularly intense shock of pleasure shoots up your spine. Your fingers grab at anything you can reach—you wrap them around the side of his neck, both to ground you and for leverage, and he rewards you with the most sinful groan you’ve ever heard, right into your ear.

“I-I need,” you gasp, trying to form a sentence in between the half-frantic snap of your hips, “inside, Kat, please—“

You nearly come out of your skin when he raises his middle finger slightly, the motion of your hips working to push him in, in, in, fitting to you better than you could’ve dreamed of. He’s no better off than you are—mouth open and panting against your neck, and the knowledge that he’s getting off on this has you fucking yourself onto his hand with an almost violent pace.

He presses against you harder, pushing his finger deeper, and you jam your face further into his shoulder, praying like hell it muffles the noise you’re making.

“Need you to cum,” he gasps, nearly pleading, “need t’feel you—“

And you didn’t need the prompting, but the way he pleads sends you over the edge anyway—your entire body seizing as you clamp down hard on his finger. You vaguely register his voice over the ringing in your ears as time slows again—seconds turn to hours that you’re trapped here, every tiny brush of his palm against your clit sending shocks of pleasure that rip through you like waves. It feels like forever before he’s calling you back to him—soft, breathy murmurs of your name against your skin, fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck to hold you to his chest.

It’s quiet between you, then—each of your stuttered breaths and your own pulse in your ears cutting through the silence. He stays inside you because he can, and you have no qualms about it.

“Well. Fuck,” you murmur against his skin, pulling a laugh from him that would have you kicking your feet if you could muster the energy to do it.

He presses kisses to your hairline, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning into them. You feel him slip from inside of you and it feels like a loss—one he quickly remedies by pulling you to his chest with a bruising grip.

“Think you’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, and you snort.

“Yeah, well, it’s mutual.”

____________________________________________________________

It’s a playful cat and mouse chase up the stairs to your apartment. You let him crowd you into the door, fumbling for and nearly dropping your keys.

“You know,” you finally get the wherewithal to shove the key into the lock, “this would go a lot faster if you’d let me open the door.”

“Or I could just fuck you right here, give the neighbors somethin’ to complain about—“

You swing the door open and you both freeze, Denki and Shinsou staring back at you—neither looking particularly shocked.

Shinsou grins, turning to Denki. “You owe me $50, motherfucker.”

Denki groans, reaching for his wallet. “You guys couldn’t have waited like another week?”

“Get the fuck out,” Katsuki grumbles over your head, though it’s softer than you think he wanted it to be. It makes you smile.

You take a step into the apartment, and it feels different. You feel different—it’ll be a marathon, not a sprint, but you have the tools to get to the end of it now. You feel lighter than you have in a long time—more prepared for what’s coming next, even if you don’t know what it is. You look at your boys—Shinsou and Denki bickering over whatever bet they made, and Katsuki, who presses a kiss to your temple before taking your bag back to your bedroom—you’re not alone. You never were with these guys, and you won’t be again as long as you all can help it.

You walk over to Shinsou and Denki, cramming yourself between them on your couch.

“Hi,” a little sheepish, still a little embarrassed, “I missed you guys.”

Denki throws his arms around your neck with a drawn out, theatric wail. He peers around you and levels a glare at Shinsou. “They’re talking to me, you rat bastard.”

Shinsou only laughs, shoving his shoulder into yours.

“We missed you, too,” he says, and it’s genuine—you blink away the tears you feel threatening to spill over.

When you look up, Katsuki is in front of you again. He bends to press a kiss to your hairline, and Shinsou lurches away, gagging.

“Oh!” Denki yells, directly into your ear, “Me too, Kaachan—“

“Not on your fuckin’ life, shit ass—“

You know it’ll be okay. It has to be, with a family like this. There will be talks of new songs, projects, albums, and whatever else you can all think of soon, but for now, you’re content to sit in the love that holds you all together.

this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.  

#it was the dream scene that made me cry btw #drummer!bakugou #band!au #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #katsuki fic #mha fic #bakugou long fic #bakugou smut #bakugou fluff #friends to lovers #mha #katsuki #soulmate au

[cletoons]

Drummer bakugo🎶

I'm thinking about an AU...

#illustration #artists on tumblr #fanart #art #mha fanart #mha #my hero academia #bakugo fanart #bakugou katsuki #bnha #drummer bakugo #pencil drawing #traditional art #traditional drawing #mha au

[joelysmile]

#Bakugou #kacchan #Bakugou drummer #katsukibakugou #mha #my hero acedamia

[marvosa-yroz]

Please reblog and add a fictional character that you know with anger issues that can play the drums.

I wanna know how often this trope happens.

So far, I only know two people.

#regular show #regular show benson #benson dunwoody #mha #bnha #bakugo #bakugou #bakugo katsuki #drummers #know any fictional characters with anger issues? #and knows how to play the drums? #reblog this please #and add your own #cartoon #anime

[kingkatsuki]

I FINALLY GOT A BREAK

and I come with a thought of drummer reader and drummer Bakugo 👁️👁️

They'd be at each others throats but also teaching each other

BATTLE OF THE BANDS AU?!

Drunken, sweaty hate sex one night after a show?

Your band is supporting Bakugou’s, and you’re constantly back and forth about who’s the better drummer.

Being in separate bands you’ve never performed together but you always see videos of each other on social media, and you have like a banter back and forth? And one day you meet at a festival or something.

#jo talks #drummer Bakugou

[sugardells]

Bakugo the Drummer

#bakugou fanart #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou x deku #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #Drummer

[yourstrulyaiko]

o𓆩♡𓆪; MY HAPPY ENDING PT.4 | HEADCANON 𓆩♡𓆪  

╰┈➤ featuring; boku no hero academia! drummer! bakugou katsuki! x lead singer! fem! reader  

જ about; Heartbreaks. Aches. Dreams shattered. You feel like there was no bridging between you and your goal as an artist. Especially since the bridge that connected you that was your ex-boyfriend, Shindo, who you met at club. Now, that you’re separated. You thought, that was it. No more. Well, you thought wrong.

જ contents and warning; profanity cause bakugou is on it, asshole bakugou, cigarettes, smoking, angst, drummer bakugou, band au, fluff, romance, drama, paparazzi, cheating, break ups, toxic relationships, getting physical (the bad kind) and many more that I have definitely missed.

જ author's note; I actually have a lots and lots of chapter about band au which needs to be revised and re-written. unedited. THIS IS GOING TO BE A DARK ONE. Please proceed with caution as this portrays ab£s3 and toxic relationship in general. If you’re ever in a similar situation. Please. Seek help. Immediately.  Bakugou’s reaction is an effect of being in a toxic relationship, you tend to push people around you. So, if you are in this kind of ‘relationship’. LEAVE. YOU DO NOT DESERVE THIS. I will defo write this as an entire series in more detail cause I acc like it lololol.

LET’S TALK ABOUT BAKUGOU NOW SINCE WE’RE TRYING TO ESTABLISH YOU FIRST

So, Bakugou plays drum really well.

He was planning to go to University and work his mother and father’s company.

But, Kirishima was the person who brought up the fact that they’re forming a band and invited Bakugou along.

He was pretty excited.

Not he’s going to tell anyone that.

They were constantly practicing and juggling their part time jobs.

Once, they’re off rushing to Bakugou’s garage practicing.

Bakugou worked at a music shop.

He started working there at the age of 17.

The band formed when they were 16.

They were still little scrawny kids trying to navigate what they wanted to do

They were working hard to achieve their dreams.

Denki eventually introduced Jirou 

She started composing songs for them to play.

They were having so much fun.

Mitsuki would always bring them snacks and drinks too

Not too long after that, Mina was introduced into the group.

She was the one who kick started them into playing in clubs.

Because she work at that very club.

They were playing simple tunes and rhythms that everyone dances too.

These guys are amateurs but the practice and dedication they have for this band 

The club owner would pay them a huge amount of money 

They brought in a lot of customers because people heard about this amazing club with the live band.

Now the problem is, what do they call themselves?

They were throwing around random names.

King Explosion band suggested Bakugou

Nope 

Ladies Magnet says Denki

Definitely a nope.

Then Sero,

“How about Tokyo Lights? I mean, we live in Tokyo and there’s a lot of fluorescent lights here.”

“That sounds dumb.” Bakugou snorts.

“I mean, it’s better than King Explosion Band.” Kirishima pats him on the back.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, SHITTY HAIR! IT’S BETTER THAN DUNCE FACE OVER THERE!”

It was fucking perfect.

With the money from gigs and part time jobs,

Mitsuki and Masaru didn’t have to worry about their little boy anymore.

His part time job also heard about him playing for a club so, his boss paid gave away a drum set.

SO NICE

A much better kit than his current one.

This gave him the opportunity to start saving up for his first tattoo.

At 18, he did manage to.

It was the big red dragon one.

HE WAS STOKED.

He has been wanting one for a long time and he had it all planned out.

So, when he finally got it.

His confidence and ego shot up a ten fold.

This only led caused a snowball effect of Bakugou wanting to get next one already.

Instead he got his tongue pierced instead.

Needless to say, his friends wanted to get piercing and tattoos too!

As their band grew and grew more popularity. They were all 18-19 at this point,

They’re asking when they were going to get a singer for their band.

This is how Bakugou and Camie met.

After they played for the club.

Camie approached Bakugou offering to buy him a drink.

Started talking and they found Camie could sing.

They offered for her to join the band.

That’s the start of skyrocketing to fame. People started talking about this little band

Tokyo Lights

Not too long after that Camie and Bakugou started dating.

It wasn’t open out there in public but their friends knew.

They continued to climb up in fame. They started getting inviting to bigger events.

This was it, they needed to record their song.

No, fuck that let’s go for a debut album.

Thankfully, Jirou was there and her parents are musician.

So, they all had the equipment they needed.

They took a break from playing at the club. 

They quit their jobs.

They focused on being a band.

Then, their debut album was published.

LET ME TELL YOU.

IT BLEW THE FUCK UP.

THEY ACTUALLY GAINED A LOT OF ATTENTION. LIKE THEY DIDN’T CHART 

BUT THEY HAD A GOOD AMOUNT OF LISTENERS.

It was amazing

They were having a great time and celebrating.

They were on cloud 9 

Katsuki especially since he was living his best life, on the path of his dreams and has a great girlfriend.

The band also gets to be a open up for much bigger singers and bands.

This skyrocketed them even more.

They bought an office and recording studio

THEIR VERY OWN ONE!!

YAY!

The happiness wouldn’t last for long.

Camie was starting to act weird.

The fame was getting to her head.

She wanted the upmost perfection. Unrealistic even.

How bad was it getting?

Well, any single error? That would get you Camie screaming your ear off

For, “Being fucking dumb”, “How can you be a professional fucking musician and be this fucking dumb?”, “I don’t know what’s worse you guys claiming to be this big thing and still slow. Oh wait- Nothing could be worse than that.”

That just didn’t stop from her degrading the other band mates.

Nope.

That extended to her boyfriend, Bakugou.

“What the fuck was that?”

“It’s the beat for-”

“No, the fuck is not. Get it the fuck together or do you want me to do your job for you?”

It’s even worse because-

Camie would get mad at something out of their control and her own mistake.

When Denki’s bass guitar string snapped, Sero forgot to plug his keyboard and was about to, Kirishima electric guitar wasn’t plugged to a amplifier, Mina got the wrong size for her top for their upcoming show and Jirou accidentally playing the wrong melody when it comes to recording.

It’s bad.

Bakugou wouldn’t say anything.

He just follows along and nods.

But, he’s weirdly quiet about the whole thing.

While that’s happening? Camie was whispering all kinds of things to his ear.

“They’re pretty shit, aren’t they?” Camie blows smoke into the air and hugs him from behind, “Why not just kick them all out? Tokyo Lights would be better with just the two of us.”

“I don’t get why you formed a band with these people.”

“I think everyone knows, I made this band anyways.”

“I think everyone knows, I made this band anyways.”

“Quit it.” Bakugou growls.

Camie pretends to be confused and she didn’t say anything wrong,

“What? I don’t know what you’re getting mad. I’m only helping you.” “You can’t be wasting your talent. I care about you.”

THE AUDACITY OF GAS LIGHTING OF IT ALL

She wasn’t hiding her thoughts.

Camie publicly said it too. This band wouldn’t be where it would be if she didn’t join.

It was terrible. She always found ways to tear people around her and put herself up.

Bakugou was being drained by this.

But, he didn’t know how to go about it.

Bakugou still remembers the first time it happened.

He was 23.

Camie struck him across the face.

Right, in front of everyone.

That was it.

“Get out.”

Camie looked at him in disbelief,

“Are you fucking serious?” She’s jabbing her finger on his chest, “You’re nothing and fucking worthless without me. Now, you’re telling to get out.”

It was a never ending cycle.

A push and tug situation.

Camie would manage to convince Bakugou to let her back in.

Then, she would end up hurting him. Mentally.

Sometimes, physically.

And, Camie would pull some shit.

Like, “You know, I would never hurt you.”, “I didn’t mean to do that.”, “But, you just push me to the edge.”

She always made it seem like he was at fault.

Kirishima had to pull him aside and tell him this isn’t right.

It’s not good for him at all.

Listen, it isn’t easy leaving a toxic relationship or friendship.

Sometimes, friends and family will be the one encouraging you to do it.

Bakugou was facing a lot of dilemma because yes, it ain’t good for him but, he knows his attitude.

He can be brash.

He feels like no one can love him the way Camie does.

As she said, “Who would love you if I wasn’t here?”, “A lot of women would find you so annoying and wouldn’t be able to stand you, that’s why I’m here.”, “I’m the only one who could ever love you.”

I mean, he’s very self aware that some people will never get along with him.

Bakugou doesn’t know how to control his emotion.

So, he stays. Cause deep down he was right.

Even if, he’s working on himself. Everyday.

When they finally broke up and she is set to leave the band

He remembers what she said to them,

“They were no good for her.”

The years of pulling and pushing accumulated.

Bakugou was lost.

It’s like he didn’t know how to live.

For him, leaving this toxic relationship felt as if he was lonely.

Bakugou starts to question whether what Camie was telling him was true.

There’s no one that is going to love him like Camie does.

He still clings onto the thought of her coming back.

Work things out.

Then, you came along.

You.

You who is going to take her place. You who was the reason for Camie will never come back.

To him, you are barrier between Camie and himself.

He was slowly destroying himself and his friends.

He goes out drinking often. 

Smokes so much more now too.

That’s why Kirishima was always telling him to go to therapy.

Because he will regret the road he’s go down in.

He did.

It was a lot.

Extremely uncomfortable.

He didn’t understand why Camie was at fault.

To him, he was always at fault. Camie had enough if him.

That’s why she left.

“This is your your way of not opening that space in the hopes that Camie comes back.” His therapist Hayakawa, “This is what a lot of-”

“I don’t want to talk about this, right now.” Bakugou stood up quickly.

“That’s fine. Do note, after your first therapy session. It can be extremely overwhelmed. So take a walk by yourself and digest everything we discussed today.”

He leaves and kept what his therapist said,

Bakugou pulls his hoodie up and wears his mask to conceal his identity,

He walks around the city thinking about what his therapist said to him.

He’s so confused.

Was it really Camie’s fault all this time? 

The next week, he appears back at his therapist office.

He spots you.

Just staring off into space.

The hell are you doing here?

“Oi!” He barks, “The fuck do you think are you doing here?”

“Well, what the fuck do you think I’m here for? A tea party?” You scoff.

TAGS

@xviternity @bluebreadenthusiast​ @to the anon who left an anon message! <3 @chuugarettes​

#band au #drummer bakugou #drummer bakugo #drummer au #drummer bakugou katsuki #drummer bakugo katsuki #drummer katsuki #boku no hero fanfic #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha #bnha fluff #bnha headcanon #BNHA Headcanons #mha fluff #mha headcanons #bakugou katsuki angst #bakugou katsuki #katsuki angst #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki headcanons #angst #bakugou katsuki headcanons

[carmelcholate]

Kinda Into It [ Bakugou x Reader]

(CharacterIntro art)

"Not gonna lie my drawing isn't the best but these are what I can Imagine Yuna and June to looking like 😀 so ya... Please spare my art skills! Also these characters here rightfully belong to me expect MHA characters which all rightfully belong to Kohei Horikoshi!"

#angst bakugou angst #bakugou katsuki #drummer bakugou #bakuxreaderxjirou #mha bandau #fame #my hero academia band au

[thepresentmic]

Thank you for all the love on drummer!bakugo and my band!au miniseries (x) and (x) 🥺

To the people who have submitted a song for consideration - thank you! I've had some awesome suggestions and I'm working on scenes for them this weekend!

If anyone else wants to suggest a song that fits the band!au vibe, or you think works with the lil' storyline I'm creative please sent them on!

You can drop me an ask and I'll write your song into a scene in the au

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #boku no here academia #bakugo x reader #mha fic #bakugou katsuki #drummer!bakugo #mha band au #thepresentmic #thepresentmic writes