An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 6/6
Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Background Ashido Mina/Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki & Kaminari Denki, Ashido Mina & Midoriya Izuku, Ashido Mina & Bakugou Katsuki
Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Shouto, Kirishima Eijirou, Ashido Mina, Kaminari Denki, Uraraka Ochako
Additional Tags: Mentioned Iida Tenya, 5+1 Things, No beta we die like Deku's confidence, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Movie Night, Popcorn, Fluff, Established Relationship, Established Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku, Not mentioned but Bakugou's gay and Izuku's bi, Because I can, Tags May Change, Picnics, picnic dates, that's not a tag????, Midoriya Izuku Has Self-Esteem Issues, Midoriya Izuku is a Mess, Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Cook, It's not mentioned but it's canon, Aquariums, Embarrassment, Bakugou Katsuki is a Dork, Quirk Training (My Hero Academia), Homework, Midoriya Izuku Has One for All Quirk, I didn't know the end of the manga/anime when I started writing this so he still has OFA, Midoriya Izuku Has Panic Attacks, just one in the fifth chapter
Summary:
Izuku tries to tell Katsuki he loves him, but it's hard when he's not entirely certain he's worthy of Katsuki's love.
Katsuki doesn't know how he got here or even why the dumb nerd accepted his request a year ago.
Or...
5 times Izuku fails to say "I love you" and Katsuki is an oblivious idiot who has no idea until Izuku finally screams it.
So, we’ve had two one-shots that were kinda fluffy. But, I’m in the mood to try a bit of multi-part angst. Here we are. In this story, my boy Cal has ended up in a bit of trouble. Can he get out? Who knows? Guess you’ll just have to see what happens, won’t ya?
Now, without more fanfare, my angsty Gulliver’s Travels au multi-shot!
Cal wasn't sure what woke him first- the sounds of many small voices talking and clamoring, or the several small electric stings on the back of his left hand. He did know which one made him sit up quicker. His eyes snapped open and swiveled quickly, taking in his surroundings.
He was no longer tied down on the hot sand of the beach he'd washed up on. He was now inside some kind of huge building, maybe a warehouse. Instead of laying on his back, staring into the hot sun, he was now kneeling on some kind of metal platform, his wrists sporting heavy shackles with four chains each, three of which were attached to the metal floor. The fourth looked to lead somewhere underneath.
Cal felt a snug weight around his neck and he realized he was shackled there as well, the miniscule chains jingling as he moved.
He looked up and saw he was facing rows upon rows of bleachers, with hundreds of his tiny captors staring back at him, jeering and laughing with one another, or quietly inspecting him with careful eyes.
His eyes darted to his side, where an older fat man appeared on a balcony and sat at a desk. He wore some version of a cowboy hat and held a gavel in one hand.
The realization was like a slap in the face for Cal. He'd been to places like this before, but to buy cows and horses, not a lost sailor, washed up in a tiny land. And never had he been on the block!
"Welcome folks to our auction here today," the auctioneer started off. "We have two lots here today, so let's get started. We're gonna begin with Lot Number 057 here, just arrived and captured yesterday afternoon. Young male, around mid-20s, decent shape, looks like it's used to a good day's work, you should get plenty of years out of him. Bidding opens at fifteen thousand dollars." The auctioneer slammed his gavel and the bidding began.
*
If the situation was vastly different, Cal almost would've been flattered. The bids were steadily climbing.
Twenty-nine thousand…
Forty-seven…
Sixty-two…
Eighty-three…
One-hundred twelve…
One-hundred seventeen…
"Sold!" The slam of the gavel caught Cal's attention. He turned slightly to the auctioneer, who was now pointing to someone in the crowd. "The giant goes for one hundred and seventeen thousand, to bidder number seventy-eight."
Cal's eyes searched the crowd until he saw who the auctioneer was pointing to. He was an older white-haired man, possibly in his sixties. He wore a white suit with a black tie and he had a cane. Somehow, he vaguely reminded Cal of the old guy from Jurassic Park.
A sharp prick in his right arm made Cal turn his head, in time to see a large automated syringe draining the last of a clear fluid into his body. The tranquilizer from yesterday, Cal remembered, as his vision already began to cloud at the edges. He continued to slip toward unconsciousness as he vaguely registered downward movement from the platform he was chained to.
The auctioneer started talking to the crowd again as Lot 057 was removed from the ring. "Alright folks, what a show that was! Real spirited bidding, always good to see! Let me tell you about our second item…"
Cal faded into unconsciousness, not even hearing the frightened whimpers of Lot 058, or seeing from whom they came.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Rachel Amber/Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Additional Tags: One-shot collection!, no set time line, Random smut
Series: Part 1 of The Three Peas
Summary:
Follow Max, Chloe, and Rachel navigate life, love, and the weird effects time-travel leaves you with.
In Between Days [L.H.] College!Luke Multi-Shot: Part 1
College!Luke AU Multi-shot
[Parts 1 of 3]
Title credit- In Between Days by The Cure
In Between Days by cals-eyebrows
Luke was sitting with his three best friends in front of the student union on campus. They had gotten lunch and finished eating, each of them reconfiguring their bodies in more relaxed positions. Michael was smirking at Calum, whose shoulders were basically aligned with the rest of his horizontal body, laying against a tree trunk. Ashton was sitting cross-legged on the grass, Michael was laying on his stomach, and Luke had his legs stretched out before him.
They were bored, as it was the Friday of the last week of classes. The semester coming to a close, and even though it was finals week in 2 days, they had the weekend to study. They were planning on spending the nice, May weather outside pretending like deadlines weren’t looming over them.
Luke lifted his face toward the sun, closing his eyes and allowing the heat to spread through his body. He felt the soft wind blow through his dirty blonde curls. He listened to the laughter of his stupid friends and felt free. He felt good, finally.
It had been 30 days since Erica broke up with Luke (not that he was counting.)
Erica. His first real love. Even though he knew they ended up being toxic for each other, Luke had a good way of blocking out the toxicity, choosing instead to romanticize their good memories. He was lucky he had Ashton to remind him of how fucking terrible it was to be together.
Regardless, it was an uphill battle, a constant back-and-forth of feeling confident to feeling like he couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t lost on his friends.
Ashton watched Luke close his eyes and felt his heart tug. It had been a tough couple of months, as Luke’s relationship crumbled before his eyes. As always, sensitive and intuitive Luke took on a lot of the blame of this. It wasn’t fair to Ashton, who’d do anything to see his friend happy.
Michael’s voice broke the silence of the group: “Mickey Richards, ten o’clock!”
Miriam “Mickey” Richards was a tall, blonde, and beautiful Criminal Justice major that Calum knew pretty well. They were friends, having numerous classes together and getting to know one another on the weekends due to the same partying routine. Actually, Cal was in love with her, even if he didn’t want to necessarily admit it. Luke could read into his nonchalant act.
Sure enough, Luke opened his eyes to glance at the gorgeous blonde, who was arm-and-arm with her two best friends, Vanessa and Emily. The three were each wearing sundresses and sandals. The three girls made up a weird dynamic, as they all were so different from each other.
Mickey was athletic, outgoing, and always up to party. The other end of the spectrum was Emily. Em was tiny next to Mickey: lighter brown hair, maybe five feet tall (on a good day), brainy, and not worried about social status. Balancing the two extremes was Vanessa, a medium height Latina who had dark hair and dark features, who was a nice balance of smart, successful, and fun.
Luke watched Cal’s eyes follow the blonde across the lawn, where she and her friends settled in a spot a bit away from their group. Yep, Cal was certainly infatuated.
Interestingly enough, Calum and Luke shared similar views on love. They both agreed that true love was bullshit. Although, they both secretly hoped that their time would come, that somewhere out there, a partner existed that would accept and love them unconditionally.
As the boys continued on their regularly scheduled roasting session, Luke was struck with an idea. He’d play matchmaker! Calum didn’t need to feel like shit, he deserved to be happy. Maybe, by helping Cal, Luke could feel better and get back in the dating game himself.
And he knew who exactly he needed in order to make this idea come true, to play matchmaker for one of his best friends. His blue eyes zeroed in on Emily, the small one.
** -**-*
Hours later, and the four men were standing around at a party. It was in the basement of a house, all cement walls and floors surrounding them, with tons of people. Luke wandered away from his group, giving Ashton a small smile as if to say, I’m okay. Be right back. It was time to put his plan in action, to try and get Emily on board.
Luke spotted her small frame a mile away. For being so small, you’d think she’d blend in more to crowds. Nope, not Emily Anderson. Her light brown middle length hair was thrown into a messy ponytail, the baby hairs framing her oval shaped face nicely. Luke could tell she hadn’t gotten made up to be at the party and he liked that. Some people might label her as “blah” but for Luke she always seemed grounded and had her shit together. It was inspiring and slightly irritating all at the same time. Her outfit followed this theme: she was wearing dark blue jeans and a black V-neck with a camouflage army jacket.
Emily Anderson was a mix of slightly unavailable and cute, maybe even hot. She didn’t draw much attention to herself, but when you noticed her – you _noticed _her. Unfortunately, this was Luke’s case. They had a couple of classes together, one was math and the other was a literature course. In both, Emily was always there early, never skipped, and always participated.
He had noticed her and noticed how she had kept her distance, saw her around campus with only a few friends, never more. Noticed how men may look at her, but how she never saw them back. Or if she did see them, often quickly decided they weren’t worth the time.
He made his way through the crowds, trying to navigate a sea of shoulders, despite his looming six foot and a half frame. He carefully balanced two red solo cups, trying his best not to spill any of the honey colored beer inside.
“Hey, I got you a drink,” Luke says confidently to Emily, who was standing alone. He saw her quit her Instagram app on her phone and look up at him. It was the way she looked at him, not able to focus on any one part of his face, that he knew she was drunk.
He smiled, already liking this side of her. She smiled and looked like a huge, cute dork, Luke noted.
“Oh, my god! Thank you, guy-from-my-class!” Emily responded, quickly putting her phone in her back pocket in order to take the cup from him.
“What, you don’t even know my name?!” Luke teased her, having to look down. Emily’s neck, on the other hand, craned upwards.
“I’m too focused on Dr. Smith and his stupid, dumb PowerPoints. He always flips through them so fast. I can’t copy the notes fast enough,” Emily complained, lifting the cup to her lips. “Anyways, I’m so sorry. What’s your name, buckaroo?”
“Luke,” Luke looked into the crowd of people. Nobody seemed to notice their interactions. “Are you here with anybody?” Vanessa and Mickey were nowhere in sight.
…Perfect.
“Well,” Emily sighed, “Vanessa left me for a boy, um, Drew Stevens?” Emily phrased the last part as a question, hoping Luke might know who that is so she wouldn’t have to explain further. Luke nodded, knowing Drew was a pretty popular athlete around campus. It was obvious the young women liked him, and Vanessa was always up for anything, so it made sense. “So now I’m alone.”
“Not anymore,” Luke elbowed her playfully. “I have come to your rescue, Madame.”
Emily rubbed the spot where Luke had touched her. “I drank all my beer.” Her deadpan tone put an end to their banter, but Luke wasn’t ready to just… leave.
He had come to the party, knowing that she was going to be there. He overheard her complaining about her grades in Stats, and he was going to use this as leverage.
As much as Emily had flown under the radar, he knew she would be perfect. She was cute, but definitely obtainable. She was… perfect for his intended uses. He could only make it fair by offering his services.
“You know,” Luke said as soon as Emily returned from the keg, holding a newly poured beer, “I could help you with your Stats homework.”
Emily’s drunk eyes perked up slightly, “You could? I mean, of course I could pay you or –“
“You won’t need to do that. I have something else in mind,” Luke smiled, showing off a dimple. Emily’s eyes flickered briefly between his blue eyes and his lips. Emily’s head jerked back in surprise as she processed the innuendo. Within minutes, with a little more coaxing from Luke, he took Emily’s smaller hand in his own and led her away from the noise of the party.
In the depths of the party, behind a closed bathroom door, Emily and Luke made a pact. They would agree to a fake relationship and a fake double date in order to bring their friends together. They promised not to tell another soul.
Despite being mere acquaintances and basically strangers, Luke and Emily agreed that both of their friends seemed into each other, and that they both deserved to be happy. Emily told Luke about how Mickey seemed to never find the right person and was beginning to become hard on herself about it. In turn, Luke told Emily how Calum really didn’t believe in love at all, and that he didn’t even want to try. They discussed and planned that doing a fake double date would probably be the easiest way: subtle but will get the job done.
As they talked, Luke kept drinking and taking Emily in. He processed her and her mannerisms. He realized he liked the way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she laughed and the way she pressed her palm to her chest when she just couldn’t believe he’d just said that scandalous joke.
He thought, yeah. She’s perfect.
….For helping me get Mickey and Calum together, of course! Perfect for that.
Heads up, I might be taking a little breather after this part. Just getting busy with work and other things. Plus, I want to step back and get into the right headspace before I jump back into this.
The shackles on Cal's ankles and wrists were the first to release. When he realized what was happening, he began to struggle against the rest of his bindings. He grunted with effort as the clamps on his forearms released. The pirates cheered him on. Something has to give. The cables strained, trying to keep him down. There were so many, but Cal continued to fight against them until suddenly the cables on his right arm failed with snaps and metallic twangs. Spurred on by this success, he redoubled his efforts on his left side. The cables groaned as they strained against the giant, but soon they failed spectacularly as well. Three cables across his chest were next, as he slipped his thumb underneath and ripped them free with a grunt. The last thing for Cal to take care of was the clamp around his neck. Both hands came up and, with the metallic screeching of twisting metal, his shocking clamp was wrenched away from his neck. Except for the cables on his legs, which he couldn't reach, Cal was free.
Cal turned back to the crowd watching him, when his eyes landed on the person responsible for him being here, standing there close to Captain Spara. Cal's stomach turned as he recalled the way the old man had talked, especially that disgusting grin when he mentioned the girl in the other ship.
Eyes narrowing, Cal growled. "You." Before the old man could make a move, Cal's right arm swung toward the walkway like a fast-moving dockside crane, snatching the man by the back of his shirt with two fingers. The man yelped in shock as he was plucked off the catwalk and lifted to come face-to-face with the angry, and free, giant. "Well, well. Seems the power dynamic here has changed a bit," Cal said coldly. "Where's your little remote now? Shock me like a dog, will you?"
"Now Beasty, don't do anything rash!" Captain Spara called.
Cal looked over to him for a moment. "Oh, I'm not doing anything rash." He turned back to his captor-turned-captive. "I've given this some thought. Especially after what he said about the girl that he bought along with me." Cal was just about to say more, when his stomach growled. A wicked grin crossed his face, as the tiny man paled and started begging for mercy. Cal licked his lips. "Y'know, it just occurred to me, I've been tranquilized twice by you little people, and haven't had anything to eat in over a day."
"Beasty! Don't you do it, mate!" Captain Spara ordered.
"But Captain, he needs to be taught a lesson. And I'm just… so… hungry," Cal breathed the last word as he eyed the now-frantic man in his grasp, before opening his mouth. Letting his tongue loll out, he held the man over his gaping maw, giving him a look into his warm wet mouth, with its slippery, writhing tongue and its teeth that could grind a tiny body to paste. Cal ignored the cries of the pirates, and his panicking snack, as he slowly lowered the man closer to his doom.
"Oi, beasty!" Cal's eyes snapped to the hatch. Descending the stairs was a pirate, with a long dark coat, a tri-corner hat, and a rather familiar gait. "Looks better'n that stuffy ol' suit, eh?"
"Y-yes sir." Cal nodded a bit, hindered by his neck restraint.
"Hear that, lads? Sir!" Spara and the pirates who had accompanied him burst out laughing. "Like I'm respectable enough to be called Sir!" Spara laughed for a few more moments, before finally settling down. "You're funny, beasty. You'll do alright here."
Cal looked at all the pirates that he could see. They weren't leering down at him, taunting and pointing. They weren't drawing swords and weapons to hurt him. They were looking at him, as close as he could see, with… pity? Here he was, a living, breathing, thinking being, chained down in the hold of a ship. Their kind, their tiny kind, had taken advantage of his circumstances, capturing him on the hot sand of the beach while he lay unconscious and powerless. They secured him in shackles and chains, put him on the auction block like a beast of burden, and loaded him on a ship, not as a passenger, but as freight. And now, the universe had brought them all to this moment. How to make things right?
"Oi!" Spara suddenly called up toward the top deck. "What of the other ship?"
Silence for a few moments, before a voice called back, "We have it! They're both ours!". The pirates assembled in the hold broke out into smiles and cheers, shaking hands and throwing hats into the air.
Cal couldn't help but smile a little bit. The enthusiasm in the air was rather contagious. But even as he smiled, he couldn't help but wonder what was going to come next.
"Bring me the old man!". Spara's voice rang out, and there was a bustle as several people rushed to comply. They sped up the stairs and to the top deck. Reappearing a few seconds later, they dragged the old man down the stairs to Captain Spara.
Spara grabbed the man by the back of the shirt and turned him to look down at Cal, as he reached into his pocket and grabbed the remote from earlier. "You'll make sure to watch," Spara said with a smile, before addressing his crew. "Let the joyful multitudes be heard! Let two eyes turn to the sky with newfound hope! And let this day be celebrated, by we who prepare to free… the giant!". Raising the remote high over his head, he pressed one of the buttons.
Here we go, along for the angsty ride that is now Cal’s life. What’s gonna happen? Who’s to say?
Slowly, the veil of unconsciousness began to lift and Cal opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a metal ceiling, painted cerulean blue, a few feet above him. He tried to turn his head, but there was something clamped snugly around his neck, most likely to keep him from raising his head. The walls at his sides were the same color as the ceiling, with a few windows on different levels. There were also platforms and catwalks attached to the walls, no doubt so people could come by and stare at him.
Wiggling his arms slightly, he found they were bound to the metal floor with cables and clamps. He guessed the same was done to his legs.
"Ah, you're awake, giant. About time," a voice called from the platforms at Cal's left. Cal turned to see who was speaking. It was the Jurassic Park-looking guy, who was leaning on the railing with a smile. "Welcome aboard the transport ship Tempest, en route to your new home, approximately two and a half days from here. I think you and Lot 058 will like it. Not like there's much choice," he added with a chuckle.
Cal's eyes widened slightly. The question tasted disgusting. "You… bought both of us?"
The old man nodded. "Indeed, giant. You and a female, about fourteen years old. Attractive enough, I suppose." He shrugged. "Of course, I don't know what your kind's beauty standards are. Dark hair, brown eyes, already starting to become a bit… curvier in the right places. She might make a decent display, or even a pleasure girl, once she gets properly broke and trained." The old man smiled, and Cal felt his skin crawl. "Maybe in a few years' time, she finishes filling out, might make decent breeding stock. Looks to have decent wide hips." A wiggling eyebrow and lecherous chuckle followed, and if Cal wasn't clamped and strapped down so securely, he would've shuddered.
Lucky I'm tied down, you old creep, Cal thought. If I was loose, I'd punt you to Kingdom Come.
The old man stood up straight as he was joined by another gentleman. "Now, I must be on my way to the other ship. My other purchase should be waking up shortly." He turned to the newcomer. "Mister Spara, I'd like you to stay and get acquainted with the giant here. Maybe come up with a suitable name."
"I have a name, it's-" Cal was cut off as the restraint around his neck suddenly shocked him, causing him to grunt in pain until the electric current subsided. Panting slightly, he looked up at the old man, who had something in his hand.
The old man smiled and shook his head. "Not anymore, giant. You belong to me now, and I'll decide what to call you. Understand?"
Cal nodded hesitantly.
Stashing what must've been a remote into his pocket, the old man nodded and tipped his hat before walking up a set of stairs toward the top deck and disappearing from view.
We’re just cookin’ right along here. Part 3 already! Seems things might be changing, but how long will it last?
After the old man disappeared from view, Cal turned his attention to Mister Spara, who was now leaning against the railing, seemingly studying him.
Several moments of uncomfortable silence passed before Spara stood up and made his way toward a set of descending stairs. He was nearer to Cal's ear when he spoke, seemingly to no one in particular. "So the beasty needs a name, eh?" He asked in a smooth purring voice as he tapped his chin.
Cal didn't respond.
Mister Spara climbed up on the railing and jumped, landing on Cal's chest. He took a moment to dust himself off before walking toward the giant's face. Spara walked with a bit of rolling swagger, his feet treading in a nearly straight line, like a fox.
Cal watched as Spara walked up, coming to a stop and resting a boot on the giant's chin with a smile.
"Wanna get loose, do ya, mate? Make the little 'uns pay fer strappin' you up 'n sellin' ya like a breedin' bull, eh?" Spara leaned closer, staring into Cal's eyes. He gave a quick wink and a smile. "Everything has its time, mate.". He straightened up and walked to Cal's shoulder and down his well-secured arm.
Suddenly the intercom crackled to life. "All hands to the top deck! Pirates to starboard! Repeat, pirates to starboard! All hands to top deck!"
Men charged up the stairways, roaring and ready for a fight. The last person Cal saw running was Mister Spara, who stopped and turned back to look at Cal with a smile. "I'll be back, beasty!" He called down, before waving and disappearing through the hatch leading to the top deck.
Cal laid strapped down in the hold, listening to the fighting on the top deck. He could hear a lot of shouting, and miniature bangs and pops of small arms fire. Powerless to do anything, he could only lay there and wait anxiously for the outcome of the battle.
Meanwhile, on the top deck, the ship's crew were greatly overwhelmed. The pirates had boarded the ship firing non-lethal beanbags and smoke canisters to disrupt any resistance. In addition, a good portion of the crew had been turncoats, holding their fellow crew at gun- and sword-point. At last, with no lives lost, as was the plan, the transport ship's crew were disarmed and corralled on the deck.
Mister Spara swaggered up to one of the pirates, who passed him a long dark blue coat. Spara quickly traded his suit coat for the other, before affixing to his head a tri-corner hat, offered by another pirate. He smiled, revealing a gold tooth. It felt good to be back in his old clothes. Wait til Beasty sees this, he grinned.
