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Bakugou Katsuki is Going to Become a Friendly Guy Even if it Kills Him

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He’s going to do it. He’s going to fucking do it. Hell yeah he’s going to fucking do it.

Today’s the day he’s going to ask Uraraka Ochako the hell out.

Okay, so how many more swear words is it going to take for him to actually fucking do it?

Bakugou Katsuki looks at — well, more like stares down — his reflection in the mirror. His hair is fucked up and branching out in all directions, as per normal. Haha, you hot motherfucker. He’s wearing a black tank top because black is slimming and also it shows off his terrific triceps, beautiful biceps, dazzling deltoids, and — if you catch him at just the right angle in just the right amount of sunlight — his fucking awesome abs. And to counteract the slimming-ning-ness of his black tank top, he’s wearing baggy-ass pants that sag past where they should be sagging, making his knees look like they’re three-quarters of the way down his legs. Hell yeah, Katsuki, you’re a handsome fucking bitch, you got this.  

Okay, breathe Katsuki. You can do this.

He sets off a few small explosions in his hands because first of all, he’s sweating a lot, and second of all, explosions calm him down. For normal people, the idea of explosions being as soothing as the sound of rain would be pretty insane. But Bakugou Katsuki isn’t normal people.

He’s better.

Also he fucking hates rain.

Just as he’s about to leave his dorm though, he checks the mirror one last time. You know, to make sure there isn’t spinach in his teeth or anything. He flosses like, twice a day though, so there shouldn’t be any spinach. Or vegetables. Or other such miscellaneous shit in his mouth. But just to be sure, he…

Yeah okay, he’s good.

Which means he’s going to fucking do it.

Hell yeah, he’s going to fucking do it.


Hell yeah!

Okay...but does his hair look okay? Maybe he should wear a flannel or something, you know....

A whole entire hour later and Bakugou Katsuki has finally emerged from his dorm. And...there’s nothing visibly different about him. Well, to be fair, if he brushed his hair one more time, he feared his hair follicles would deteriorate or some shit and he’d wind up like...Best Jeanist Internship him.

Bad times. Never again. No.

He takes one last deep breath. One last small explosion in his hand.

Okay, he’s good to go now.

Sauntering down the hallways with his hands in his pockets, leaning his back onto the elevator with his hands still in his pockets, sauntering down the hallways of the first floor now with his hands beginning to fidget out of nervousness — but still in his pockets — Katsuki does his level best to maintain his “Hell yeah I’m a cool motherfucker” aura.

Actually, he doesn’t have to try at all.

Because he is a cool motherfucker.

At least, that’s what he has to tell himself, anyway. Sometimes, you just gotta escape from everyone else’s perception of you being that kid that gets kidnapped once a year by some hack villain. It’s hard, sometimes, to only be known as that dumbass kid. He’s so much more than that. First of all, he isn’t dumb. Second of all, he has a great ass. And he’s motherfucking cool.

Oh shit he internally monologue-d so hard he’s already in the lobby. Oh shit she’s right fucking there. On the couch. The couch in the lobby. The couch that's in the center of the co-ed student gathering area of the dorm. The lobby couch. That couch.

She’s sitting on it.

Oh fuck he didn’t think he’d get this far.

Although, he probably should’ve expected it. After all, he’s been walking this whole time. If you just keep walking somewhere — anywhere — at a constant speed, eventually you’ll get pretty far.

He just didn’t expect it to happen this fast.

Haha, well it’s now or never at this point. Can’t just stand around doing nothing like a damn loser for too long.  

“Oi,” he calls out to Uraraka.

Nothing. No flinching. No response. Nothing.

Okay, his voice was kind of quiet. Like normal person quiet. Not Bakugou Katsuki quiet, which is at a normal person speaking volume. No, it was normal person quiet and she’s on the couch and he’s like twenty meters away at the hallway entrance or whatever so of course she didn’t hear.

Fine. He’ll just raise his voice. And walk a little closer. No big deal. She couldn’t be ignoring him or anything. Right. Right?


“Oi, Uraraka,” he calls out again.

He waits patiently for her response. Unfortunately, “patiently” for Bakugou Katsuki means two seconds. Throw in a “very” in front of “patiently” and maybe he can wait upwards of five seconds. But that’s only happened two or three times before, so that “very” is a gamble.

But anyway, two seconds have passed since he called out to her and she again didn’t respond.

He doesn’t get it. He’s halfway between the couch and where he was before, of course she has to have heard.

Fine. Fine. He’s going to just fucking do it.

He envisions himself in front of his mirror again. He sees himself pointing his index finger at his reflection. He stares into the void of his blood-red eyes and the void stares back. “You can do it,” his mirror-self says in his head. “You’re Bakugou Katsuki. You can do it.”

Fuck yeah he can do it!

With newfound determination, he strides towards her. Places a hand on her shoulder. Smirks a little when she raises her head and looks backwards to see who’s touched her.

“Bakugou-kun?” Uraraka’s face is tilted upwards; her eyes are wide and round and under the light her eyes are shining so hard they’re practically sparkling and fuck she looks so cute like that fucking dammit.

Okay, Katsuki, you’ve been preparing for this for like, well basically since the sports festival when she first caught your attention. When she basically pointed a bunch of pointyass rocks at you in her best attempt to murder-kill you. When you first thought that finally there was someone in this world as hot as a motherfucker as you, Katsuki. Point is, it’s been a long time. You can do this, you handsome motherfucker you. Hit her with some of that heart melting and sappy good shit.

His smirk grows wider. He’s totally prepared. Trying to tell his heart to stop beating so fucking hard that he feels like he’s losing his damn hearing, he finally opens his mouth to deliver that epic line he had prepared for her.


Shit wait, what was the epic line?

Did he even have one in the first place?

Haha, instead of thinking about how fucking cool he was on the way here, maybe he should’ve thought about what to actually say to her when it came time to actually talk to her.

...Maybe those people really were right when they said he wasn’t as cool as he liked to think he was.


The fuck? Uraraka doesn’t say that. And her voice isn’t that annoying. What?

Katsuki turns his head a little to the left. Oh shit. Is that Deku?

No wonder Uraraka hadn’t been paying attention to him a minute ago. Deku’s so fucking loud with all his rambling mumbo jumbo nonsense that she probably couldn’t hear him, Katsuki. It all makes sense now.

“Um, was there something you wanted to say?” Uraraka asks, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion. Her face is still tilted upwards towards him and her lips are just slightly parted and shit they look so soft and pink and...and shit he doesn’t know what to do.

Katsuki panics.

No, wait. He’s Bakugou Katsuki. He doesn’t panic. He’s just...annoyed.




Yeah, he’s annoyed.

After all, Deku is right fucking there sitting next to her while he wants to confess and... fuck there are more people here too? Frog girl? And, the fuck? Pinky? And...that girl?  With the weird ears? She’s here too?

He has to get out of here. There are too many people here.

He’s not nervous or anything.

Or shy about confessing to someone.

No, he just...doesn’t want anyone else to hear his kickass pickup line. Can’t have people plagiarizing him after she inevitably tells him how much she’s loved him this whole time, too.

Yeah, that’s why he doesn’t want other people around.


Yeah, that’s it.

Taking one last glance around the wholeass lobby to somehow find even more people there, he finally musters out a “Come with me.”

To him, it sounds pretty flippant. Which he thinks sounds pretty cool.

To everyone else around him though, including Uraraka Ochako, the comment sounds rather ominous.

Leaving the dorm to the Yuuei gardens with her just a few steps behind him, he hears from somewhere farther off behind him a muffled: “So uh...who wants to make bets on what’s about to go down between them?”

He’s going to kill that person later.

And then he’s going to kill everyone who’s participated in that betting pool.

Oh, but whoever’s guessed that Uraraka falls for his epic confession...yeah that person can be spared.

Outside now in the garden, he walks past tree after tree, trying to look for some good empty place with no trees. After all, if he accidentally sets off an explosion because of e-excitement or something, he doesn’t want any trees to fall onto her as a result of the chaos.

The only casualty in this situation should be her heart.

He smirks a little to himself.

Him being a smooth motherfucker aside, what kind of a shit-bitching garden is this? “Why are there so many trees?” he mutters under his breath. First of all, good gardens shouldn’t have this many trees. His mom is a shitty gardener and their garden has a ton of fucking trees. Therefore, the converse must be true that if his mom were a good gardener, their garden would have no fucking trees. And because this garden has a shitload of trees, it’s therefore a bad garden.

“Uh, Bakugou-kun…” he hears from behind him.

Even her voice is adorable.

Having a crush fucking sucks. He hates this. Why does she make him so fucking weak in the knees and the heart and why does her voice feel like a punch in the gut he can’t fucking breathe what the fuck.


He feels something tugging on his...hand?


He swivels around, glaring at all the fucking trees around him because why would there be something touching his hand unless they were somehow in danger?

Except in doing that, he’s neglected to account for the most dangerous thing around here.

Her round face.

Her wide eyes.

Her flushed cheeks.

Her pink fucking lips.

All just a few centimeters away from his face.

He observes her taking in a deep gulp, her breath hitching just a little in her chest. And then she opens her mouth and asks, “When are you going to let go of my hand?”

“When am I...going to let go of…”

He looks down at his right hand.

It’s not connected to anything.

He pivots his eyeline to his left hand.

Watches it extend into another hand.

A softer hand.

That’s connected to a paler arm than his.

That’s connected to…Uraraka?

“What the fuck?!” Out of shock, he quickly lets go. Since when was he holding her hand? For how long? This whole damn time?

He can feel everything from his toes to his ears flushing red. Uraraka, on the other hand, is clearly insulted. After all, she’s grimacing.

Fuck, why did he have to drop her hand like it was a hot fucking potato?

This confession is off to a terrible start. The only silver lining in this awkward situation is that, at the very least, she’s stopped him when they just so happened to be in a pretty decent clearing in this swarm of trees.

Okay, Katsuki. This is it. It’s really ‘Now or Never’ time. “You can do this,” he murmurs to himself a final time. With a sharp inhale to gather all the oxygen he possibly can into his lungs, he roars, “URARARARARARARARARARARARARAKA!”

Legend says that his voice was heard all around the globe that day. The same legend says that Present Mic heavily considered retirement after Katsuki’s screaming nearly burst his eardrums.

Huffing a little after exerting all that force onto his vocal chords, he makes direct eye contact with her and says what he’s wanted to this whole damn time: “Go out with me.”






“Awesome. Our date is this Sun-” He blinks. “Wait.” He blinks harder. “What?”  He’s blinking so furiously now that he feels like any faster and he might discover a new quirk to allow him to take flight through the power of flapping his eyelashes alone to escape this situation.

She breaks eye contact with him to look anxiously at the ground. Twiddles her thumbs a little. “I’re kind of a jerk to everyone. And I don’t think I want to go out with anyone like that.”



Wait, did she really just say that?

Katsuki stares at her incredulously. Sure enough, the expression on her face also screams, ‘Wait, did I really just say that?’

“What?” He’s panicking a bit now. Hyperventilating, if you will. After all, none of this is going according to plan. He was supposed to say some sappy shit. She was supposed to say some sappy shit. And then they were supposed to be sappy together. So what the fuck is this? “I-I’m not a jerk,” is the only thing he manages to come back with, however.

It’s a chucklefuck’s comeback.

“What?” Now it’s her turn to be confused. “What do you mean you’re not a jerk? You don’t even know most people’s names in our class.”

His eyebrows furrow. His face scrunches up just a little bit. “I know your name. Isn’t that good enough?”

And now she’s looking at him. Glaring a little? “What’s the name of the girl who has literal earjacks?”

“Long...ears?” When the fuck did this become a pop quiz? Just because they live at their school now doesn’t mean every breathing moment should be school.

“Bakugou-kun. You practiced with her for like a month leading up to the cultural festival. How do you not know her name by now?”

“I was focusing on drumming.” He looks to the side. “Why would I pay attention to her name?”

“It’s already second semester!” She breathes a heavy sigh. “What about our class representatives?”

“Glasses Ass and Skin Condition. What of it?”

“They helped you escape from the villains!”

“It’s not like I asked them to!”

Oh shit. The corners of her lips are pulled down into a deep scowl. She’s not at all pleased with his response. “Then what about” —she begins to pointedly emphasize every word in her sentence now, as if each word were aimed as a blow to his gut— “the guy who eats sugar to increase his strength?”

“...We have someone like that in our class?”

She looks pretty done with him by now. Shaking her head, she tightens her hands into fists and — huffing — marches herself all the way back to the dorms. “I could never go out with someone like you,” is the last thing he hears her say.

Leaving Katsuki there.


“What the fuck just happened?”

“Wait, so Uraraka rejected you? Yo, that’s manly.”


“No, I’m saying for her.

Him and Kirishima are lounging around in Kirishima’s room. Shoveling snacks into his mouth in a fit of the anger stage of grief, Katsuki takes a look around the room. Kirishima calls the decor manly. Katsuki calls it weird.

“Dude, I can’t believe she called you out like that!” Kirishima’s laugh grates on Katsuki’s ears. “Although I really shouldn’t be surprised you don’t know Sato’s name.”



Katsuki chews angrily on his chips. Just because he doesn’t know most of the people in his class doesn’t mean shit. “I’m not a jerk,” he grumbles again for the three-hundredth-and-twenty-seventh time. “I can’t believe she rejected me.” This is the five-hundredth-and-seventy-fourth time he’s said that.

“Dude, you’ve got to chill.” Kirishima places a hand on Katsuki’s back in an act of friendship. “Find a rebound girl or something. Just let this go, dude.”

Katsuki glares at him. “If I find a rebound girl” —his glare intensifies— “and just let this go” —Katsuki’s eyes are glowing red now— “it means I’ve lost.”

“Lost what?” Kirishima’s wearing a blank expression on his face. One that says he’s really not prepared for what’s about to come next.

“My pride? My dignity? I don’t fucking know.”

“Look, Bakugou” —Kirishima’s holding his hands up as if he actually, truly, and naively believes that just physically signaling for Katsuki to stop will actually make him stop— “just calm down and—”

“She thinks I’m a jerk? I’ll show her I’m not a fucking jerk.”

“...O-Okay. And how are you planning to do tha—”

“She thinks I don’t know people’s names? Just some words their mommies and daddies call them? Huh? I’ll show her. I’ll learn their fucking names.” Katsuki’s spiraling. Is this the bargaining stage of grief? “I’ll even become friends with them. I’ll become the friendliest motherfucker on the planet! Fucking jerk my ass!”

“Okay, first of all, that’s probably not appropriate. Second of all, while I respect the conclusion you’ve come to, I don’t think the reasoning behind it is very sound—”

“If I accept her rejection, I lose!”

“No, Bakugou, she’s just not interested—”

“She says I’m so much of a jerk she could never go out with me? I’ll show her! I’ll make her eat her words! And then she’ll be so charmed by my great personality that she’ll have to go out with me.”

And with that, Katsuki dramatically stands up, dunks his now empty bag of chips into the trash can, and stomps out of Kirishima’s room all while slamming the door behind him. Presumably to go off and friend the shit out of everyone.

And so begins Bakugou Katsuki’s journey of self improvement, self realization, and love.