CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWELVE
pirate poly!141 x f!reader
tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned
masterlist
a/n: thank you for all your support while i grow through a difficult time!! i appreciate all of you for being so patient and loving. long chapter for u!! <3
When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.
Ghost didn’t remember much about his childhood. His mind blocked it out for him. But he did remember the pain and suffering he went through at such a young age.
He didn’t deserve that. Seeing his family, massacred in front of him. The blood mixed with the metallic scent that even now seemed to tinge his nose with a nostalgia that made him sick.
He was only a child, yet that was the day Ghost was born within him.
It was like an awakening. He saw how cruel the world could be through a pure lens and it tainted his vision red. Nothing was ever the same that day, and gradually, Simon was forgotten and Ghost was his new muse.
He could recall the nights he spent alone, digging through waste bins and slumping out on the streets like a dead dog. Stealing bread from shop merchants and having to run, barefooted to avoid getting beaten. Freezing to death on the street corner when winter came around and the pure snow covered the ground in a blanket.
It was scary for a boy his age. Dehumanizing. He didn’t deserve that.
He thought he was lucky when a ship crew came along, parading the streets to offer security. A job, a place to sleep, and meals — it seemed perfect for somebody who had absolutely nothing.
He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Ghost never saw Simon again after that day. He was lost somewhere at sea, hidden under the roar of waves. Ghost didn’t know where to look for him until soon enough, Simon had disappeared and Ghost replaced him. Graves made sure of that.
A captain, like hell he was. Ghost knew something wasn’t quite right about Graves the moment he met him, yet as a child, he was desperate. Once he was in, it was too late, and the broken pieces of him became completely irreparable.
Graves held a devilish aura about him, one Ghost could practically see radiating around him. Every step he took was one closer to chaos.
No matter the destination, Ghost was held on by a leash with Graves being the handler. The sights Ghost saw, some being from his doing, was something he’d never get back. It was as if reliving that very day where he lost everything.
Living amongst Graves’ crew was worse than living in hell. He would’ve preferred it. To be banished for his sins, to taste the sweet nectar of death, and live his eternity punished. Anything to stray from Graves and his ship.
When he saw the way you looked—the darkness looming over you, the distress in your eyes—he saw himself. And when he saw Graves, he saw the life that was stolen from him.
That red that clouded his lens when he was a child was all he could see. Pure, angry red.
Now, standing in Price’s quarters, that red only grew angrier. This time, for you—for putting you in the same position he’d been stuck in for years.
You didn’t deserve that.
Your mind was a whirlwind of chaos. It was struggling to digest the information given to you. So much at once and you could barely manage to keep yourself together.
Everybody looked sorry for you. Ghost looked enraged. Price was lost. Soap and Gaz were remorseful. It was too much.
You hated that they looked at you like that. You hated when they didn’t look at you like that more. Having them worry, when for the duration of your stay it was like walking on burning rocks, it felt strange.
Their own worry caused yours as well.
“What is that?” you asked. “The mark of death. I— I don’t know what that is. What does that mean?”
You were becoming more frantic. The panic that ensued was growing, and you could tell it bothered Price. He was quick to grasp your shoulders, settling you.
“It’s complicated,” he explained quietly, hushing you. “That man you saw? His name is Phillip Graves. Some call him the Devil of the Seas. He’s a wicked pirate who feeds off of the innocent, their fear. None of us know what he truly is, not even Ghost, but we believe he’s apart of something sinister.”
“What, like he’s sold his soul? Made amends with the Devil? You are talking madness!” you exclaimed, exasperated.
“We are talkin’ truth,” Price corrected. He was as patient as ever, yet still held the firmness of a leader. “He’s that of a reaper. Souls is what he wants. The mark of death is his contract, you may say.”
“But you are not telling me what the mark does,” you cried.
Your head hurt. The world was spinning. You didn’t understand.
“I think it’s quite obvious what the markin’ is, dove,” the Captain said solemnly. “It is only by miracle it hasn’t happened to Ghost yet.”
“So I am to die? Is that it?” You flickered your gaze between each man. Your eyes told a million stories, and each of them were ones of fear and anguish. “I am going to die?”
“No,” Ghost snapped. You looked at him. He seemed as pain as you were, but the anger was taking over logic. “You ain’t dyin’. Not today, not tomorrow. M’not lettin’ it happen.”
“Ghost,” Soap tried, but he was quickly shut down.
“I said no,” he repeated resentfully. “Price, show her the map.”
Price turned to him, stiffening. It seemed he still didn’t quite want to let you know the full truth. Now, you felt it was to protect you rather than leave you out. It was too late for protection.
The Captain silently walked to his desk, pulling open the old drawer with a slam, shaking the table. He pulled out the map you’d seen so long ago, unrolling it and slapping it on the table.
“Come, dove,” he called, and you listened.
The men surrounded the desk with you, staring down at the map. The ink was still the same as it was before—islands crossed out with an X, while one remained circled.
“Suppose it’s time you knew, hm?” he asked, offering the smallest of smiles. You found that you missed his real one. The one he tried to hide when he found a joke of yours humorous.
Your nerves shot up. Your emotions were at an all-time high. You were scared, scared to find out the truth.
“These islands,” he began, tracing his finger along the map to point at the ones with an X, “are all land marked by Graves. Every single one, we went to in search of a medic. The one in the poem, remember?”
The one who heals the ill and poor
shall be the cure to all demise.
You weren’t sure how it linked to you. You’d never met Graves, nor had you met your pirate crew until they took you away. The connection wasn’t there. It didn’t make sense.
“Yes, I remember,” you confirmed quietly. “What does it have to do with me?”
“We searched for a medic from every village, yet when we arrived, they were famished with death, or on the brink of,” he explained. “All of the villages were all succumbin’ to Graves’ mark of death. We think he was attemptin’ to get rid of all villages as much as he could so we wouldn’t be able to find their medics. We don’t know how, but he knows we have the prophecy, and he doesn’t like it.”
“And how do you know the prophecy is related to Graves?” you questioned. “How do you know it relates to me?”
“Ghost got the prophecy a long time ago when he was still on Graves’ ship,” Soap piped in. His hands rested on the table and he leaned over the map, but his eyes bore into yours. “He was searchin’ for answers even then. This is all he got.”
You couldn’t imagine the desperation Ghost must have felt, knowing Graves had him under his despicable spell. Not knowing whether he was going to live or die.
Your heart ached.
“And me?”
The room went silent, as if your words burned a wound in them.
“Your village had the mark, yet nobody had suffered from it,” Gaz said quietly. His eyes were soft when he looked at you with the unmistakable glimmer of pity in them. “We knew you were the one we were lookin’ for.”
“My village was not cursed,” you denied, shaking your head. “There is simply no possibility. We rarely got outsiders unless they were coming to browse the merchants.”
It clicked in your head how quickly it must’ve happened. Graves, visiting your village under the guise of an innocent shopper, gearing his interest towards the various merchants that littered your small streets.
It would’ve been so easy for him. So terribly easy.
Your people died to Price’s crew, but the true evil was the man who gave the pirates reason to ensure a massacre.
“That’s why you did what you did,” you muttered to yourself in disbelief. “You killed them because of him. You killed Mary because of him.”
“The curse would’ve taken over the moment you left,” Gaz explained. “You were the shield protectin’ them without even knowin’. You’re meant to fulfill the prophecy, grantin’ you immunity until we found you.”
All this talk about a prophecy made you want to scream, cry, yell, anything. Why you? Why were you the one chosen, and why did it have to be you?
You wanted your life back. You didn’t want to be apart of this.
Before you knew it, tears welled up in your eyes. They stung, causing you to blink rapidly. You didn’t want to seem weak, but in this moment, you were.
“Dove?” Gaz called out, concerned.
“I don’t want this,” you cried, shaky hands balling into fists. “You—you knew I was apart of this and never told me. You kept me in the dark for this long, you hid me from the truth, and for why?”
“We don’t have all of the information yet, dove, please—” Price began, but you shut him down.
“Bullshit!” you shouted, and he reeled back in surprise. You had been outspoken before, plenty with the Captain especially, but he had never seen you lash out so fiercely. “You took my life away because you assumed I was the one in your ridiculous prophecy on a whim. You took a guess and went with it. I am hardly a proper medic, let alone worthy enough to be that person for you, so why have you chosen me?”
“You must understand, you were the only medic left alive,” Price defended. “We had no choice. We did what we had to do.”
“At my expense,” you argued.
“At all of our expense,” he retorted. “I did not care for your life when we stole it. I did not care for it when you were locked in the brig. I cared for Simon’s.”
You fell silent, whipping your head to look at Ghost. You’d heard Price call him Simon before, by a slip-up, but now he had said it purposely. Ghost simply looked away, arms crossed over his chest.
All that talk before and now, at your aid, he was as quiet as a street mouse.
“Without you, he will die. We do not know when. Graves hasn’t killed him due to the thrill of holdin’ his life in his hands. It’s a toy to him. He can take his life away at any moment, and I would not allow that, even if it meant ruinin’ yours.”
Price’s cheeks were reddened from the frustration and helplessness he was feeling. He was a Captain trying to save his crew’s life, uncaring of yours—in the beginning, at least.
Now, the mere thought of losing both had him kneeling like a pitiful dog to the Devil of the Seas.
“I do not wish to be here,” you murmured, taking a step back. Soap opened his mouth to retort, but you silenced him. “I need to be alone.”
The Captain gave you a sad smile, nodding his head. He was respecting your wishes.
“As you wish,” he agreed, and you made your way out of the suffocating quarters, returning to your shared one with Gaz and Soap.
“Dove,” a voice called out. It was quiet, like it was whispering, yet to you, it sounded loud. You hated its voice.
It was black. Your eyes couldn’t adjust to the light, no matter how much you shifted them to look around.
Your body felt heavy, as if something was weighing on you. Your lungs were tight, and when you opened your mouth for air, nothing came in. You slapped your hands over your throat, clawing at the skin.
Why couldn’t you breathe? You felt like you were drowning. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t take in an ounce of air, and you could feel your lungs beginning to protest.
A cold panic came over you, like an icy wave consuming you in its dangerous waters. You tried to move your legs, but they were stuck. They were too heavy.
All you could do was helplessly paw at your throat, praying to gasp for a breath, praying that the Gods had mercy on you.
“Dove,” it whispered once more. Where had you heard the voice before? You knew it, but your mind was blanking from the lack of oxygen.
“I’ll be seeing you, dove,” it mocked.
Dove. Dove. Dove.
“Dove!”
You shot awake, a sharp gasp invading your lungs. The burning in your chest was harsh, and it was as if you truly hadn’t been breathing.
Coming to, you blinked the groggy confusion away, lifting a hand to wipe at your eyes.
Soap peered down at you, his eyebrows knitted worriedly. His hands were on each side of your shoulders, as if he’d shaken you awake, and when you realized you had been asleep, you only guessed that’s what he was doing.
“I kept callin’ ye but ye weren’t wakin’,” he said wearily. “Are y’alright?”
You glanced around the room, taking it in. Gaz’s bed. The clothes strewn on the floor. The mess on the small desk that you’d never seen occupied.
You were no longer suffocating in darkness. It was a mere dream—no, a nightmare. A terror.
You were safe.
“I don’t know,” you confessed breathily, still catching air.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you recalled the nightmare. You couldn’t remember the voice, not when you were fearing a death that was merely fake, but you knew now.
“Tell me,” Soap urged gently, taking a seat next to you on the bed. You sat up to join him, frowning at the floor. “It’s okay.”
You risked looking up at him, searching his eyes. They were soft whenever they looked at you, and they’d been like that since the beginning. He was always patient, even when you did things that cost him a scolding from Price.
You felt like you could trust him, more than any of them.
“It was that man,” you explained. “Graves. I think he is messing with my head. I dreamt of dying, like… like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. The whole time, I could hear his voice, calling me out. Mocking me.”
Soap listened carefully, taking in every one of your words. He cared, that much you could tell, and the situation weighed heavy on him. The worry lines on his face were proof.
Graves was tormenting with your mind, feeding into your fear. He knew you were terrified, and he enjoyed it. The way he mimicked what he told you, whispering it the same as before, it sent chills down your spine and made your blood run cold.
You understood now why Ghost was always a mystery—because he was scared, too. He just hid it better.
“I am scared,” you confessed shakily. “I do not want to die.”
“And ye won’t,” he assured, but you shook your head.
“You do not know that,” you argued. “None of you do. You have not given me a chance at life. I am stuck in this without a choice, and I am the new target. It’s not fair.”
Soap’s expression dropped into one of guilt. His focus shifted away from you, avoiding your eye, before returning back to you.
“It’s not,” he agreed quietly. “We’ve done to ye what Graves did to Ghost. Treatin’ ye like—like burdening scum, like ye don’t matter. I can’t express to ye how sorry I am for everythin’.”
You didn’t want an apology, but you accepted it nonetheless. It was the first anybody had truly apologized for the mess you were thrown into. Maybe it was something you needed without realizing. You felt a sliver of weight lifted.
“I never had a family,” you told him, staring down at your feet that hung over the side of the bed. The shoes Soap surprised you with stared back at you. “The village did not like my values or my lifestyle. It was hard being an outcast there, but it is even harder here.”
“Yer not an outcast.”
Looking back up at him, you found him smiling, a faint sparkle twinkling back at you.
“Not anymore. We thought ye were a little strange in the beginning, though,” he said, the end of his sentence bordering a tease.
You couldn’t stop your own smile from forming. Despite carrying the crushing weight of the world’s worries, as well as growing a headache with every word spoken from each of them ever since your arrival, you found yourself growing more fond over them the longer you lingered.
It’d been a bumpy road, and there were still miles ahead of you, waiting to unravel. But you couldn’t fully convince yourself that there wasn’t a part of you, yearning to belong with them.
“You are all very strange,” you retorted lightly. “I have never met such people as you before.”
“Thank ye.”
“It was not a compliment.”
Soap snorted, shaking his head at the banter. “The Captain is bitin’ tooth and nail in his quarters, thinkin’ he fucked this all up with ye. Never seen him that worried before, but with Graves bein’ around again, I don’t blame him.”
The statement caught you off guard, and you found yourself curious. “He is worried for me?”
Soap eyed you strangely, as if it had been obvious the whole time. “Ach. ‘Course he is. Cap’s got a good heart, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”
“I did not realize he cared for me after everything,” you confessed.
Soap hummed, looking down at his trousers and picking at a loose thread. “We all do.”
You stared at him dumbly, cocking your head in question when he didn’t elaborate. You had become acquainted with them, surely, you lived with them now after all, but you weren’t aware they truly cared.
When Price had told you they’d grown fond of you, you didn’t quite believe it. You assumed it was his way of convincing you to trust him, but it seemed that wasn’t the truth.
The two of you sat in silence, staring anywhere but at each other. The awkwardness grew, and it felt strange to feel that when the relationships had been too uptight even consider having those moments.
You took the time to weigh out your options. The Captain being worried, especially over messing things up with you, had you in a turmoil.
As much as you wanted to deny the path chosen for you unwillingly, you felt an obligation to please them. Yet, not in the way you initially thought.
You didn’t want to let them down.
Maybe you truly were as strange as Soap thought.
“Is he still in there?” you asked Soap. He perked up, nodding his head.
“Aye. He’ll be rottin’ in there before we know it.”
You pursed your lips, facing that inner battle once more before coming to a conclusion. “Would you like to join me, then?”
Soap raised his eyebrows, watching you stand from the bed. You shot him a warm smile, tilting your head at his confusion.
“For?” he asked.
“You all need a medic,” you said, giving a nonchalant shrug. “And I do not wish to die by the hands of a filthy pirate such as Graves. I am in this now, so I suppose I’ll simply have to deal with it, am I correct?”
Soap’s smile slowly grew at your sudden courage, standing up to join you. He reached out for you, and once you became confused, he looped your arm with his, grinning down at you.
“Sure are, dove. I’ll come with ye.”
The Captain looked a mess when you entered his quarters with Soap. Ghost was beside him where Price sat at his desk, the map and prophecy still scattered on the table. The two of them were speaking hushed to one another, yet when the door opened and you stepped in, they went silent.
“She wanted to be alone, Soap,” Price protested, but you quickly shook your head, taking a step closer to the desk.
“It’s alright,” you assured. “I have had time to think.”
Price’s eyebrows raised and he glanced at Gaz for a brief moment before returning to you. “I see,” he hummed, nodding. “I have as well.”
You cocked your head, eyebrows furrowing. He gestured for Ghost and Soap to step out of the room, requesting privacy, and the sudden realization that you would in fact have to speak after your outburst made your nerves to churn.
Ghost gave your shoulder a light squeeze as he walked behind Soap, catching you off guard. When you looked at him, he stared forward, avoiding your gaze.
The door clicked shut as they left, and you stood uncomfortably in place, shifting on the balls of your feet.
“I owe you an apology,” Price began. “A true one. I may be a Captain, and I know in those regards, I come off rather violent. I can be a brute, I will admit, but I am also a man who knows times when he is right and wrong.”
He stood up from his chair, circling around the desk to face you. He leaned against the old wood, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. Upon quick inspection, you saw the faint smoke of his cigar swirling in its ashtray.
“I should not have treated you so unkindly since the beginning. I should have considered how scared you must have been, how alone it must feel,” he continued, eyes drifting off for a moment as if deep in perplexing thought. “I do not apologize for doin’ what I thought was right in that time to save my own, but I do feel sorrow for what transpired in your time bein’ here.”
You couldn’t help but wonder if Ghost had been the reasoning for this. He wasn’t a man of many words, but you knew the respect him and Price had for one another. It was safe to assume he’d speak with him privately regarding everything.
“I’d like to apologize as well,” you began, but Price stood up straight, quick to raise his hands in protest.
“You have nothin’ to apologize for—”
“I am sorry for lashing out the way I did earlier,” you cut off. Price stopped, lips pressing together. His gaze remained stuck on you, now that you had his attention. “It does not excuse what you have done to me, and I see you have realized that. If this is to be my life, I wish for compromise rather than seclusion.”
Price didn’t say anything at first. His eyes darted over your face, taking in your features. He saw the calmness you held compared to when you were last in his quarters.
You didn’t seem defeated, nor did you seem to simply agree for the sake of him and the others. You wanted this for yourself.
“I will grant you that,” he agreed in a hum, nodding once. “I do not wish for you to feel out of place no longer. You have had enough of that, I believe.”
You took in his words, and they made you smile. It was what you wanted to hear—no angry exchanges, no selfish banter. A simple compromise, one you both wanted.
“Graves came to me in a dream,” you told him. His expression soured. “I believe there will be plenty more instances where he will do that. Based off of what you have told me about him, I do not want to prolong his presence longer than I must. So, I’d like to be of help.”
Just as quickly as Price grew tense at the mention of Graves, he calmed down, shoulders relaxing when he realized your implications.
“Soap has not convinced you, yes?” he asked, uncertain. “This is your call. I may have taken you due to my own selfishness, but I give you the choice now. You do not have to be a part of it if you do not want. You are part of us now, but this is not your battle.”
“It is,” you disagreed, though remained a calm composure. For the first time around Price, you felt at ease in the same room. “If I am to be part of your crew, your family, then your battles are my battles. I may not have had a family, but I am certain that’s how it works. Does it not?”
Price stared at you; expression unreadable. It took mere moments for his lips to slowly curl up, granting you one of his rare smiles that seemed to radiate a certain light you’d never seen before. It caused your heart to pick up, though you were unclear as to why.
“That is how it works with us, dove,” he agreed softly. “Your battles are ours. You can count on it.”
“Wonderful,” you cheered with a smile of your own. “Shall we continue what wasn’t finished before, then?”
Price chuckled low under his breath, his amusement growing the longer you stuck around. He nodded, tapping his desk and calling you to it.
“Come on, dove.”
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Hallway crush
katsuki bakugo x general studies! Reader
Bakugo never had a crush before, now he’s got his eye on a girl from general studies.
Mentions of Hitoshi Shinso
a/n tbh w you I think the bakugo photo is a bkdk photo (IM SORRY I JUST DONT SHIP BAKUDEKU I DONT SEE THEM TOGETHER)
It all began on your first day at UA. Bakugo noticed you in the halls, walking with a certain purple-haired boy named Hitoshi shinso . He couldn't take his eyes off you; you were just his type, even though he never realized he had a type until that moment. He had never really paid much attention to girls before. Sure, he had a few girlfriends in middle school, but he never felt anything special for them.
As you strolled down the hallway, your smile lit up the entire space. Bakugo watched, captivated, as you giggled with your violet-haired classmate, practically skipping along down the hall. You seemed to be in such a good mood for someone who hadn’t made it into the hero course. Your positivity was infectious, making him actually want to be around you
Every time he saw you, his heart would beat a little faster, and he found himself wanting to know more about you. What made you laugh so easily? What was your favourite food? Did you have siblings? Would you like a hot head like him? Could you even handle bakugo? You were a mystery he wanted to solve. Bakugo didn't understand why he felt this way, but he couldn't deny the growing interest.
You were always surrounded by friends, your vibrant energy making you the center of attention. Despite the fact that you weren't in the hero course, you carried yourself with a confidence and joy that Bakugo couldn't help but admire. It was as if you had your own hero-like aura, one that drew people in and made them feel at ease.
Bakugo began to realize that his feelings for you were more than just a passing curiosity. You had awakened something in him, a desire to get closer to you and understand the person behind the radiant smile. And so, he watched from afar, waiting for the right moment to make his move and hoping that one day, he could be the reason for your laughter and joy.
Kirishima raised an eyebrow as he watched Bakugo turn his head in your direction, his usually rough and angry face softening into an unexpectedly tender gaze. Bakugo was actually admiring someone? The redhead grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. "Has someone got a crush?" he teased, nudging Bakugo playfully on the shoulder.
"Shut it, shitty hair, I do not have a crush," Bakugo growled back, his entire face turning a shade of pink from embarrassment. Kirishima chuckled at his friend's flustered reaction, but Bakugo's glare was deadly serious.
Kirishima placed a reassuring hand on Bakugo's shoulder. "Hey man, it's okay! She's cute."
"Back off," Bakugo interrupted, his voice low and dangerous, as if claiming dibs on you.
Kirishima raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back. "Backing off. I'm backing off," he said, showing respect to the blonde. He couldn't help but grin at Bakugo's protectiveness. It was rare to see this side of him, and Kirishima couldn't resist giving him a hard time about it.
As Bakugo tried to shake off the embarrassment, his eyes found you again. Despite his rough exterior and harsh words, there was no denying the softness in his gaze. Kirishima had never seen Bakugo like this before. It kind of scared him, but it also made him realize that Bakugo wasn’t some heartless, angry boy. He was just a teenage boy with a crush on a girl. A hallway crush
on the day Bakugo finally grew the courage to talk to you, which was the first day he ever had to muster the courage to do literally anything, was a couple of days after the sports festival. You had performed well enough in the festival that he actually had something to talk about.
As you were eating your lunch in the cafeteria of UA High School, you felt a strong hand tap your shoulder. “Hey… you… you fought Denki Kaminari,” Bakugo said, his cheeks pinker than usual.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to send his quirk into overdrive!” you gasped, looking genuinely concerned.
“No! No, it’s fine… it was funny… he’s dumb,” Bakugo tried to calm you down, stumbling over his words in a way that was very uncharacteristic for him.
You laughed softly, the sound easing some of Bakugo’s tension. “Well, I’m glad it was entertaining,” you said, smiling up at him.
Bakugo’s heart skipped a beat at your smile. He had never been this nervous about talking to anyone before, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying. “You did good out there,” he mumbled, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the admiration in his voice.
“Thanks, Bakugo. That means a lot coming from you,” you replied, your eyes twinkling with genuine appreciation.
Kirishima, watching from a distance, couldn’t help but smile. Seeing Bakugo like this made him realize that even the toughest people have soft spots. And for Bakugo, that soft spot was you.
And that’s how your friendship blossomed. Bakugo would practically run out of his classroom every day, with Kirishima trailing behind him, usually shouting, "Wait up, man! You'll see her soon!" But Bakugo wouldn't listen. He just wanted to see your sweet face.
You developed your own crush on Bakugo. For someone so accomplished, who believed he was better than everyone else, he was surprisingly a good friend. He always grabbed your bags for you, helped you with your homework—hell, he even did your homework for you sometimes! He made sure you had all your stationery before class. It made you want to kiss him all over his pretty face.
In your eyes, Bakugo was a sweet boy, while in his classmates' eyes, he was rude and loud. You rarely saw him in that state. Sure, he called you "dumbass" from time to time and scolded you for doing something silly, but he never outright yelled at you. He could never bring himself to yell at someone so pretty.
Bakugo’s friends noticed the change in him whenever you were around. His usual fiery temper seemed to mellow, replaced with a gentleness that was almost unrecognizable. They teased him about it, but Bakugo didn't care. Seeing you smile made everything worth it.
Your friendship grew stronger with each passing day. You found yourself looking forward to the moments you shared, whether it was walking to class together, studying side by side, or simply talking about your dreams and aspirations. Bakugo’s rough edges seemed to smooth out when he was with you, and you cherished the soft side of him that he showed only to you.
The day he asked you out was adorable and you’d never have it any other way
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of another intense day at UA High School, Bakugo had a plan in mind. He had been working up the courage to ask you out for weeks, and today, he decided, was the day.
"Hey, dumbass," he called out as he approached you in the hallway. His tone was gruff as usual, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. "Got a minute?"
You looked up from your locker, surprised to see Bakugo waiting for you. "Sure, what's up?"
"I was thinking… maybe we could hang out for a bit. Just the two of us." He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to play it cool.
You smiled, delighted by the idea. "I'd like that."
As you walked out of the school together, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the campus. Bakugo led you to a quiet spot behind the school where you often studied together. It was a small garden area, secluded and peaceful, away from the hustle and bustle of the main campus.
You sat down on a bench, and Bakugo joined you, his usual confident demeanor somewhat replaced by a rare nervousness. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
"Look, I've been meaning to talk to you about something," he began, avoiding your gaze for a moment before finally looking directly into your eyes. "You're important to me. More than anyone else. I… I like you. A lot."
Your heart skipped a beat. You had always sensed there was something more between you two, but hearing Bakugo say it out loud made your chest swell with emotion.
"I like you too, Bakugo," you admitted, your voice soft but sincere.
His face lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. "Good. 'Cause I wanna be more than friends. I wanna be your boyfriend. So, what do you say?"
You reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'd love that."
Bakugo's trademark smirk returned, but it was softer, filled with genuine affection. "Great. Now, let's get out of here. There's a café I know nearby. I'll treat you to something nice."
As you walked away from UA, hand in hand, you couldn't help but feel that this was the start of something wonderful. Bakugo, despite his rough exterior, had shown you a side of him that was caring and gentle.
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