#or i want the two of them sobbing over the other's semi lethal injury–

[satsukidoodles404]

Happy Valentine's Day!!! 💕

Skskksk, it should be illegal to have so much work on a holiday– But Happy (late ._.) Valentine's Day!!! Had been meaning to draw these two together for a while now, and finally gotten an excuse! >:D

River! Sans (Right) belongs to me and Reset belongs to @spotlightstudios !! ^^

[hopelesshawks]

History of Us Part 13- Your Fathers’ Children

Summary: Once upon a time Todoroki and (y/n) were best friends. Now they haven’t spoken in years. When (y/n) is forced to transfer to UA, will she and Shoto reconnect or will their troubled past keep them apart? A childhood friends to enemies to lovers hybrid fic.

If you don’t want to see History of Us content blacklist #hopelesshou

Warning for canon typical violence

Masterlist Kofi

“Don’t tell me I gotta compete with Shinso now too,” Sero groans as he leans over your shoulder. “Aww, scared of a little competition?” you tease him. “No but if you could be a little less alluring that’d be great. It’s hard enough trying to compete with Denki,” Sero jokes. “Who even said Shinso is a suitor? Maybe he just wants to be friends.” “A suitor? Don’t make this sound like the 1800s or something and we’re fighting for your hand in marriage.” “Don’t act like it and I won’t!”

Shoto watches you joking and laughing with Sero from a few rows behind, something angry simmering in him. Sero’d been beaten by Kirishima in the round of 16, so now he’s free to flirt and joke around with you as much as he’d like between your rounds. Denki is currently holding his own against Bakugo but after their battle concludes he’s sure Denki will similarly hover around you. The more he thinks about it the more it annoys him. A small voice in the back of his head reminds him your distrust of him largely stems from his own actions whereas Sero and Denki have done nothing wrong. In fact they’d reacted to the news of your father exactly the way he should have all those years ago. Round after round starts and ends and Shoto pays no attention to any of them except for yours, too caught up in looking at you and wishing he was the one making you laugh like that. His own matches are a blur, even when he faces Midoriya in the semi finals. By the time he’s been declared the victor he realizes he can barely remember any of it. As he helps his friend up off the ground, Midoriya gives him a concerned look. “Are you ok Todoroki? I haven’t seen you that pissed since our first year,” he asks. “Yea, I’m fine,” Todoroki lies, determinedly not looking at the stands.

He doesn’t want to risk looking up and seeing you laughing with the others instead of watching him.

The next round is you and Bakugo and you’ve already descended to the tunnel by the time Shoto’s returned to his seat. Watching you and Bakugo once you begin is mesmerizing in its ferocity. You both respect each other too much to hold back and the amount of firepower you both are executing in your own ways is devastating. Shoto can’t help but wince when you hit the ground particularly hard and he’s sure you must’ve broken something but before Bakugo can land on top of you to pin you down you roll out of the way and stagger back to your feet, giving just as good as you got. It’s too bad the two of you met up in the semi finals in all honesty. It’s a devastatingly close match through the end but Shoto sees the exact moment both you and Bakugo realize you’re going to win. Cementoss looks like he’s a second away from calling a halt as you pin Bakugo down, your forearm to his throat as he attempts to blast it off, looking almost feral as you use your quirk to hold yourself down on top of him. It’s the longest five seconds anyone in the stadium has experienced. Finally the airhorn blows to signal the end of the fight. You ease off immediately, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. You stand back up gingerly before reaching down to help Bakugo up. Shoto expects the blonde to smack the hand away but to his surprise Bakugo accepts the hand up and only manages to scowl at you for a moment before he gives you an almost feral grin, saying something that makes you laugh although it’s impossible for Shoto to hear it from where he’s sitting. You wince as the laugh aggravates one of your injuries and Bakugo rolls his eyes before helping you off the field.

Nezu announces that you’ll be given twenty minutes to recover before they have the final. After about five Bakugo comes back up to the stands. “Damn Kacchan didn’t expect to see you knocked out before the finals,” Denki teases. “Shut the fuck up Pikachu, (y/n)’s the only one of you idiots that had a shot against me,” Bakugo scoffs. “Is she good?” Mina asks and to everyone’s surprise Bakugo barks out a laugh. “Oh she’s fine but she’s pissed,” he snickers. “What why?” Jiro asks. “They’re letting the kid help recovery girl with injuries and she accidentally rewinded (y/n)’s hair back to its natural color too. The two finalists are gonna match,” Bakugo explains, causing several heads to swivel to Shoto as if trying to picture what you’ll look like with half white hair. “I’m going to prepare,” Shoto says, quickly standing and leaving his classmates and their gazes behind.

Time passes quickly and before Shoto knows it it’s time for the finals to start. He walks out to the cheers of the crowd and moves to the start. Shortly afterwards you emerge from the opposite tunnel. He sucks in a surprised breath when he sees you. A memory surfaces of the two of you being six and begging Fuyumi to take a photo of the two of you before your fathers returned from work. You had insisted on standing on Shoto’s right side. He can practically hear you whining “Sho-chan our white sides need to be touching! The mom sides!” He’s shaken from the memory when he notices you’re not looking at him but behind him. He turns to see what could possibly hold your attention right now and sees you’ve locked eyes with his father who’s standing at the railing with his arms crossed. The melancholy the memory had brought forth was swiftly and suddenly swept away by a burning rage. The moment “start” is called Shoto lashes out with his left side, scorching flames shooting in your direction that you just barely manage to dodge. “Of course you started with your flames,” you scoff as you retaliate but he manages to dodge as he begins to close the distance between the two of you. You prepare yourself for an ice blast but are surprised as he instead chooses to tackle you, you’re quick to make sure he doesn’t have you pinned, both of you rolling along the ground. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite,” he spits out as he tries to freeze you in place. “Excuse me!?” you reply incredulously finally managing to push away from him before launching your own counter. “You heard me,” he responds, his voice sounding almost lethal despite his even tone. “How, pray tell, am I a hypocrite?” you question as your quirk responds to your growing outrage at the accusation. Shadow and fire meet and begin to swirl around the two of you, creating a vortex that whips your hair around your face. “You go on and on about not wanting to be defined by your father yet you have done nothing but define me in terms of mine since you got here,” he accuses. “You chose to align yourself with him, not me!” you spit back. “Bullshit!” “Fuck you!” You both dive at each other, the sports festival all but forgotten to you both as you each continue to lash out. “I am not my father,” Shoto bites out. “Nor am I!” you fire back. “I have never once thought you were!” “Then why were you afraid of me!” you finally sob out. “What?” Shoto asks stunned. You’ve got him pressed flat against the dirt beneath you but the vortex continues to swirl around, hiding you both from view as Shoto stops fighting back. “Is that what he told you?” Shoto presses. “I mean it was understandable I guess but I just.... I thought if anyone would know that my father being a monster didn’t make me one, it would be you,” you confess. “I have never been afraid of you,” Shoto tells you and as your (y/e/c) eyes meet his blue and gray ones you can see the honesty there.

Only then do the two of you seem to realize how much your quirks have spiraled out of control. Your arm is burning where it touches Shoto’s left side which has been burning consistently since the two of you had started your shouting match. The black veins have expanded well past your forearm, up your neck, and onto your face. You realize Shoto’s overheating, if the sweat pouring down his face is any indication. Both of you have tears on your cheeks, although you can’t be certain when either of you started crying. As your emotions calm down and you both process what’s been said the swirling vortex slowly dies down and dissipates. The countdown starts as the two of you finally become visible to the anxious audience but Shoto makes no move to push you off. Instead the two of you just stare at each other as all of the hurt and anger finally drains out of you both. The airhorn blows to signal your victory but neither of you notice. “I’m sorry,” you breathe out, chest still heaving from exertion. “I’m sorry too,” Shoto responds and next thing you know you’re both laughing incredulously with relief, as if a thousand pound weight has been lifted for the first time in a decade. You roll off of him to starfish out next to him on his right side as you’re both racked by the laughing fit. Considering the display of violence you’d both just presented it’s probably a disconcerting sight, but neither of you can help it, too giddy with relief. When the laughter finally subsides to hiccuping giggles you both turn your heads to look at each other.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too Sho-chan.”

A/N: When (y/n) and Shoto were trapped inside the vortex everyone was freaking out cause they couldn't tell what was happening. Cementoss thought they should end it before things escalated any further but Aizawa told him to just let it be. Present Mic then questioned why all the feral students end up in Aizawa's class and Aizawa just kinda grinned in response kjhbadvehf

Taglist: @sorrythatspussynal @miss-bakugo-writes @pixelwisp @larkspyrr @sokkaandzukosimp @akkaso @sunaispretty @mindofess @todoplusultra @oliviasslut

[benbarnesescape]

Blood, Sex and Whiskey - Part 5

All Comes Crashing Down 

Warnings: M for Violence, Language

A/N: This is just a reminder that this story was influenced by the characters in the comic more than the plot of the Netflix show. Though now I def. might pull more characters from there and some influences, this is an inspired work of fiction by them. Also if I missed you in the tags I’m sorry! 

That said – enjoy!

 Tag List:  @iheartbinbons @binbonsadoration @lafemmedemon @la-fille-en-aiguilles@ladyblablabla @drinix @padfootagain @princesse-de-ravenclaw @lovelysiriuss @deerprongs @maraudereestauderelb

You’re desperate as your bloody hands shakily dial the number to your commander on the tiny Toyota Yaris’ console, your foot a brick under the gas pedal as you weaved in and out of New York traffic.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.” You mutter underneath your breath, listening to the phone echo the ring in the tiny space as you cut off a semi trunk to speed off the ramp.

“ID.”

Your bosses cold voice cuts through the air and you fight back the sob before you sputter out your military security id.

“Glad to hear your still alive Viper.”

There’s relief in his voice and you give a grateful nod. There wasn’t anything more dangerous from this mission than the ones you had been on before, except the variable that still had you confused, uncomfortable.

Billy.

There was something different in his voice that had you grasping your brain, like déjà vu. But you didn’t serve in the military and you were sure you never encountered Billy’s unit.

Then you frown.

You couldn’t be sure. The first 20 years of your life was like smoke in your brain. Sometimes memories would come back, fuzzy snapshots that would trigger feelings of nostalgia. But they were short and typically left you sweats, shaking and uncomfortable as you tried to claw back to reality.

You couldn’t afford the serum side effect to paralyze you right now.

“Did you get my message? Do you have a unit headed toward Castle’s house?”

Your voice is desperate as you turn down the street corner, so familiar with the route to Frank Castle’s house that you can even determine how many miles you are before you arrive. The small community is dark. Quiet.

Nothing had happened yet.

“We were unsure when. We had a patrol or two head over but they said there was limited to no activity…”

��Send our men. Jenkins, do you hear me, they’re going to bomb the place. We have to get them out and into protective custody stat.”

You turn into his block, slowing down the car as you slowly near the small home. They lived across from a park, a small one in the community and you park on the side closest to the park taking in the horizon, looking for movement. It’s as silent as an ocean before the storm.

“You can confirm this.”

“I heard it from Billy’s mouth. They’re all in there. Frank. His family. We can’t let him murder them. Bombings are the Russo boy’s specialty.”

Silence, then.

“Are you there now? At Castle’s place?”

“Yes.”

“How does it look?”

“Quiet. Too quiet. Let me in there. In and out – I can get them in 8 minutes.”

“Not less?” the question is a challenge and you scoff as you check the barrel of your gun, reloading it before sticking it between your bra.

“There’s a kid. He’s the three minute factor I have to consider. And Frank probably trying to murder me from waking him from his sleep and forcing his family out of the house.”

“Do what needs to be done.”

You step out of the car, the jingle of the door being open the only sound resonating in the silent neighborhood. You shiver, your body instantly breaking out in goosebumps as you draw your jacket closer to you.

Something was off. Wrong. Off keel.

You start to move toward the house slowly. Cold, spring air feels your lungs as your ears fill with the faint sound of a dog barking. There is a light flicker coming out of one of the rooms on the top floor of the Castle home, probably a TV. Its dry – drier than normal for the east coast – as the fait smell of something familiar feels your nostrils. You were only halfway across the street when you turn, stopping to look across the playground.

Now someone else was there. And they were watching you.

“Send a unit over. Bomb unit. Billy might be on his way with his men. Send a bomb unit and our squad.”

You shake the feeling off. Ignore every natural instinct that tells you that something is wrong as you tighten your hand around the phone, turning back to the house.

Then it hits you. It resonates in the ground first, the shockwave rippling through the thick tar and concrete before it reaches you, throwing off your body’s gravity as you’re blasted out of the air. The air is inked with orange, red and yellow – heat overwhelming your body as silence fills you, darkness taking over as you feel yourself lifted from the ground.

Then there’s darkness.

When you wake up, your ears are ringing loudly. Your body aches, you’re sore as you move your body, and you stiffen, trying your best to bite back the scream that threatens to emit from you.

 Your car alarm, along with others, are ringing loudly as you slowly move your right arm. Then you’re left. You will your left leg, then you’re right. You focus on where the pain is resonating and your pray your spine isn’t injured – that you’ve broken a rib or two. You slowly start to try to move your back and sob back relief. Definitely your ribs – maybe even a punctured lung. But that’s it. Your phone is still gripped around your hand, a small steel vice as you hear Commander Jenkins scream out “Agent. Agent Viper. Agent!?”

You move slowly as you sit up on the trunk, assessing the other damages you may have received. Outside of the rib injury, a few cuts and bruises. But you were fine. You raise the phone to your ear as you echo this out into the small metallic device, almost in a zombie state,  

“I’m fine.”

Your voice is cracked as you try to gather your senses, allowing your brain to register what had just happened. And then it hits you.

You had failed.

You try to will yourself out of the dented metal, trying to ignore the franticness of Jenkins voice trying to gauge a report. The sound of neighbors stirring from their homes as they come out of their homes, trying to understand the events. The faint sound of sirens nearing.

It’s the sound of blood curling screaming that finally motivates you as you ignore everything, focusing on the owner of the sound.

Frank Castle.

He’s donned in his black attire, the white skull gleaming in the fire light as he sits on his knees, tragically looking onto the scene – of his home. Of what was once his wife and son.

You falling into a heap on the ground stirs his attention, pure hate and rage flashing in his eyes. Trying to understand where you fall into this equation.

You watch him, heaving heavily before you assess the terrain. Trying to gauge how much time you have left before everyone is on top of you, before this neighborhood becomes a bookmark in history as a blood bath.

You turn off your phone, ignoring Jenkins as he’s barking off orders as you stammer closer to Frank.

You know that a man in his place will do one of two things. He will either kill you, fast and quick.  Or he’ll take you hostage until he no longer needs you in which case he will take pleasure in the kill. Slow, painful and delectably sweet.  

You had failed – never failed a mission before – and was willing to deal with the consequence. You may have a red ledger in your history, this consequences of your past no longer in your memory - stolen from you but you knew the damage of who you used to be. The damage it had done to people – to families. You were a toxin, a bomb, the bullet that pierced its enemy. No matter how hard you tried, you were damaging, cancerous, lethal.

Dying by a man who only wanted to do right for this world seemed just.

You’re limping to him, trying to shake off the effects of being blasted in close proximity when you see the gleam. It almost clashes with the fire, blending with embers consuming the old wood but you see it just as much as Frank can’t – too distracted in grief and despair.

Billy’s last move.

You’re light, quick on your feet. Surprised that the pain from earlier isn’t limiting you from barreling toward Frank, your body swift and limber as you tackle him, rolling him out of the way  just in time to avoid the bullet that was aimed for his head. You roll off into a car as Frank rolls in front of his lawn, trying to ingest what has just occurred. Those dark eyes lay upon you again, drinking you in with renewed anger and confusion, before he looks to the place he was kneeling at, the crisp indenture in the cement from the sniper riffle. Another round goes off, a bit above your head and you chuckle, a strong pain erupting in your ribs as you cough up blood.

This is how you were going to end.

Not by Castle, an honorable death. By fucking Billy Russo.

Seemed fitting considering the person you had become.

Another shot close to your head and you close your eyes, waiting for death to encompass you. Focusing on the increased chatter of neighbors who have neared, the sound of sirens now even closer – probably three blocks now. The heat of the flames, the smell of skin and rot filling the air. The soft vibration of your phone in your pocket, the weight of the gun in your chest as it sticks to you in hot humidity. This is what your life had always been. A spectacle of death. You were always waiting for it. Secretly wanted it. Couldn’t fear it. It was the second home in your mind.

You allow yourself to lie there, blood you now knew to be filling your lungs as you spit out more, fighting it for drowning you from within as it tampers down your chin, hot and sticky.  

Waiting for relief.

You see Frank inch toward you, on his stomach. He’s counted the number of shots, knows he has a window to finish what Billy has started.

“I’m sorry. I tried to save them but I was too late and I’m sorry.”

Your voice is raw and the pain is overpowering as you close your eyes once more.

Waiting for it to finally be over.  

A/N: I leave this to you my dear readers. I want to continue on but want to gauge if its worth my investing. So I will either continue with this series upon popular demand or leave it here. Let me know your thoughts!