#breaking benjamin lost its kick now i want hurt so good songs

[sampahaha]

girl what a day and its only monday

[soranihimawari]

Based on this Oikawa art: ©️to the original artist credits via this link.

Tagging : @oikawa-obvs @m0nstergeneration20xx @smolbludandelions @oikawaandkuroostan

Word count: 2.2k

Playlist for reference:

The lullaby:

The song that helped me write:

Conmigo, tu corazón está a salvo.

(With me, your heart is safe)

A small part of you is a tad bit more curious these days since your building had received a new occupant. You had been studying for months abroad in Argentina, the place where your paternal grandparents had met during the Second World War. They were encaptured by the thrall of escaping their fascist home territory of a province in Italy as children; the two would eventually meet as young adults and with a promise of an apple and fine charcuterie select meats, it wasn’t long before they were busy tending to their own children.

One lucky son met the love of his life on an excursion to the library and had successfully flirted with a young florist who did not fall for the young man’s sharp features, but instead, with his kind heart. The younger couple chose to move abroad to the states for a few years in order to leave behind the pillars of their supportive past to sketch a dream for their future.

You were the first child who infamously stayed mute, observing a world that was meant for those who were much older and wiser than a child. You had been exposed to mainly three languages and until the age of four, you remained silent. You had been dragged to many doctors and learning centers yet the cause for the quiet loomed over your tiny demeanor, but growing up in a multicultural household did have its charm. You were five years old when you finally decided staying quiet was no longer an option; you strung along sentences in your father’s Argentine tongue, your mother’s native British English, & finally much to your grandparents’ surprise, Italian. The world was much more brilliant since that day.

Now, nineteen years later, here you were standing at the mailing center floor of your student lodging. The mid-July season was a time when the air brought about snow and sleet and the graying sunset surrounded the city of Buenos Aries in a phosphorescent hue. The new neighbor had just arrived from Japan earlier last month; he was a sight to behold. You couldn’t help falling for his charming smile or his determineds stare as you two walk up the stairs together. Suddenly, you think of yourself when you were nonverbal for the first five years on this planet. His actions and reactions to the new side world was at first marvelous; you could see his passion and drive everyday you would leave the apartment for various errands like heading to the market or a cafe for a light snack of coffee and pan de bono.

However, the thinning veil of homesickness loomed behind the closed door had become much too great. You didn’t mean to pry, but you could tell the man was clearly upset at something (or in this case someone) as you over heard his voice crack on the phone, which for whatever reason had been set to speaker:

“Lo siento Toto. No podemos encontrar un traductor para usted ahora mismo.”

You close the book you were reading in your room as soon as you heard the call end. It was only three weeks into his tenure, but you and him liked to play a game. You come up with it one afternoon after your online lecture at the university finished and he was home from a jog around the apartment block. You smile at him, waving shyly at first. He returns the gesture before you make a sign with your hands; this is when you point him and he glanced down at your kind eyes. You smile again and with your opposite hand, you tap his door once. You frown, and it’s two knocks. And so on. If there is an emergency, it’s a triangular placed knock; if it’s a health thing like a cold or your cycle showing up, a square. So now you wait patiently waiting by the wall of next to your bed and when you hear no knock from him, you raise your hand and knock twice. Your neighbor agrees with two knocks followed by a triangle.

Of all days to make a house call, you chose no time like the present. You grab your D-link key ring, bag, and a hoodie before you slip on your light blue high top sneakers. You lock your front door and slide to the left. Your heart suddenly beats a bit faster because you give a curtesy knock on the door. The deadbolt squeaks as your neighbor pulls the door open.

The apartment is dark save for the night light in the kitchen and the light in the bedroom. Looming above you, you noticed his pink tinged nose and tear stricken cheeks hidden by a broken smile. You think about your family stories about being lost and found. You apply it to him once the door behind you closes. His dark brown hair bounces on a whim as he instinctually reaches out for your hoodie sleeve; he tugs on the fabric causing you to turn to look down at his hands. He mutters something so quietly you thought it was the heating element being turned on by the timer.

You nod your head, kicking off your shoes; you see the small area next to the coat closet where his shoes were kept. This momentary delay caused enough of a buffer time before he moves his hand into your own to hold. You don’t mind the roughness of his fingers at all. Against yours, it feels like the sport he so heavily trains for everyday gave him these aesthetically pleasing grip. You squeeze his hand gently for reassurance, your eyes hide a certain storm of serenity & you decide that perhaps this is what he needs. You have to quell the uneasiness and betrayal he was emoting because you of all people understand.

Call it a sign of humanness since you both slowly start to see each other not as neighbors, but as equals in the solidarity of finding comfort in the other.Neither of you say anything as he leads you to his kitchen dining island where he sits on a singular barstool, his body facing you with his hand in yours still.

You raise an open palm to his face, his cheek is warmer than you expected when he closes his eyes and the tears fall again. He looks like a pouting child, much to your amusement. You say nothing as your other hand massages the ringlets (which felt like chocolatier mousse)that make up his hair before you feel his other arm snake around your waist and he pulls you closer; your hoodie becomes damp the more he lets out every thing that he kept locked away. The loneliness is not kind to those who fear it, yet the two of you persevered. After all, the dark is less scary when you have a friend and so you grasp a hold of him. It hurts; this hurts seeing him this way because somewhere along the way you and him forged a bond. And you hold the boy who is so far from home as much as you can; believe in me and I will come running to you. Your inner conscience conveys this until his crying subsides you stay there still cradling his hallowed frame. His sniffles are reduced to a breadth of a whisper as you hum the opening bars of a song you heard earlier on the classic radio XM station.

Your eyes notice the shirt he wears has been through better days with the faded title on its sleeve, you realize the word is the same no matter which language you spoke; you brush back his hair with your fingers before you pry his almond eyes upward to get a good look at your stoic face. You wipe his cheeks with both of your hands and when you are sure his eyes are truly focused on your promoninent features, your breath hitches in your throat for a moment. You intake a sharp breath and when you exhale rather slowly, your breath fans across his brow. His eyes are closed for a half a second and you decide to open your mouth when your mid-Atlantic voice finds its place.

“Captain,” is the first word you say with confidence you say with utmost clarity. You trace your fingers on the faded design, your neighbor’s emblem is a crown as well. Your voice cuts through his pride like a comet; it is surreal and bright. The shadows of sadness ceases to exist when you see how much the old title inspires the almost snuffed out embers to reignite. He doesn’t look anywhere but up at you stunned in a wild glimpse of surprise. You repeat the word, a brief smile dances across your features.

“Captain. Capitán. Capitano,” all three languages you know in succession drives his mind to rule the court again. You tell him this out loud until he kisses your lips closed; it is as honest as he feels and when the kiss breaks you tap his steadfast pursed lips with your left handed fingers. His arm is still on your waist with the other brushing back your your front layers of hair over your shoulders. You place your right hand in the middle of his chest which now regained its resting breathing rhythm. He asks you something and you nod. You stifle a yawn before you remove your hand from his lips and lean down again.

This time, this kiss is calculated and efficient; you guide the hand on your waist higher to your neck and when you tilt your head to the opposite side, he whines. Yet you smirk beneath the soft sound he makes you reply with. You remove your lips from his and kiss his jawline, the side of his neck driving his impulse points insane. His hair is a mess and so is yours, but neither of you are paying it any mind when his arms envelope your body; he lifts you with such ease you feel your head swimming and the kiss is becoming more deep. Your hands entwine around his shoulders for stability, and your legs wrap around his hips; and he breaks this moment to hold your body for the few minutes he needs to move you swiftly out of his kitchen and into his dimly lit room. He smiles into this kiss and finally the least bit of sorrow leaves for the time being.

There is an innate need of questions seeking answers. Desires of wanting to feel safe in the company you keep is a mad thought when your nightly clothed bodies are pressed in an innocent hold and the kisses exchanged are like tantalizing secrets you expose.

He knows he’s not in the right mind set to give you all of him, but this physical love language you both trade off are fine for now (on so many levels). He navigates the small apartment with ease calling you nicknames from his hometown like Watashinojinsei no joō & Hikari no ōjo.

You breathe in through your nose and out of your mouth as he lays you down, a tender sigh escapes your mouth in vague innocence remains. (It would be a name he affectionately still calls you years later, but neither of you are perturbed by the future you will create for each other.) You are on equal footing or lack there of as you both reach an sensual epiphany.

You let him hold you for as long as needs; your bold vitality is what motivates your contemporary lover in your arms, away from the fickleness of the world outside. Here in the bed draped in a sky blue tone, does the light he keeps on shine around you. Even Helios learns to drive the chariot, like your mythos books say, so you balance yourself, on your knees close to where he his hands rest on your thighs. He waits learning newer customs he was still adjusting to since he left his palace home behind.

You straighten your lower back as he observes the way you pull off your hoodie revealing a thermal turtleneck that has a designer’s mark stitched on the corner. The familiar western numbers stare at him through the well loved turtle neck. Your paternal grandmother and father’s favorite fútbol player and mother’s lucky number is exposed to him. The faded gold and white thread outlines the club from the late modernization of the sport (a club that has since been retired). Argentina’s famous #13 ranking legend is Oreste Omar Corbatta, commonly known in 1957 as “Angels with Dirty Faces,” but from where the soon to be Olympian watches you, he knows where this chance meeting would end once you trace your fingers along his face...

You crawl back toward him to rest your head against his neck as he presses his lips against your brow. You look up at him with a a stern gaze. He chuckles at the way your nose scrunches before he kisses you one final time, hope ever present when your bodies succumb to sleep. Somewhere along the twilight hours activities, the idea is seared into both your minds that no matter what happens afterwards, because falling in love with him would be the driving force for him to call you his everything.

[meganshinsou-tm]

Crimson|Ink. (m)

↳ chapter six: unknown soldier

❧ genre:  tattoo-shop/hitmen au | tattoo artist/hitman kirishima

❧ fic warning: major character(s) death; happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: blood, bile/puke, implied character death

❧ chapter song: Unknown Soldier by Breaking Benjamin

♬crimson|ink playlist | ♧ character profiles | artist credit

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

The air outside was way too cold for your liking as you walked out of the tattoo shop with Kirishima following close behind. Your bones shivered and snow lightly fell from the dark sky, hands bunched at the collar of your jacket and you breathed out and chuckled. 

Kirishima quirked a brow, head turning from locking the door to look at you, his breathing hitched in his throat and his heart skipped a beat. 

A pink dusted the tip of your nose and cheeks, random locks of hair blew in the small gust of wind and snow flakes danced around as you pursed your lips and blew into the dimly lit darkness, getting a kick out of seeing your breath. Your body did this excited little bounce like a child and you bit on your pink lips, making Kirishima exhale finally, his own deep breath becoming visible. Your (e/c) eyes finally looked in his direction and you smiled, like you always fucking do. No matter how many times he never returned the simple gesture, you still had this need to smile at him anyway. Maybe it was to piss him off or maybe you just really weren't that phased by his cold shoulder.

"Should we get going Kiri?"

Your sweet voice stole his attention from your eyes and he blinked before clearing his throat and looking anywhere else but you. 

"Uh – yeah, I parked down the street, this way," he motioned stuffing his hands in the pockets of his coat and pulling the collar up around his slowly blushing face.

You trailed behind closely, crossing your arms, slowly starting to shiver from the cold and bumping into Kirishima's side. You apologized quickly before he could spout off but he only shrugged. Once the two of you got to his vehicle you hummed. You didn't know what you were expecting, you knew he probably didn't drive a car being as massive as he is. In fact he drove a blacked-out truck, and by blacked out, everything was blacked out. Rims, trim, tint, everything! 

Your heart dropped seeing there was no stepping bar to help you climb your way into the unusually tall vehicle. As you stood there staring, it shocked you when Kirishima opened the passenger side door and patiently waited while you thought.

"I can do this by myself," you internally chanted, walking closer to the vehicle.

Your hand gripped the handle bar on the inside and you lifted your leg high to brace the edge of the frame. Taking a deep breath you grunted and hopped with all your might, only to slip when your foot lost balance and moved over a minuscule piece of ice. Positive that this was how you were going to die, you gasped when feeling a set of strong warm arms catching you.

"Goddamnit," a husky voice swore from above as the hold on you tightened.

Your back was flush with Kirishima's chest, hand gripping his arm. The male could feel his heart beating faster than the speed of light as he held you so close. Your intoxicating and sweet chocolate scent engulfed his nostrils and your head moved against his chest to look up at him. He stiffened and wanted to drop you honestly, to get as far away from you as possible. Kirishima felt like some sort of vampire who was trying not to feed off of the one he cared for the most.

"I – I'm so sorry Kiri, I'm sure the last thing you want to do is touch me, just let me – whoa!"

Out of nowhere Kirishima grabbed a hold of your hips and lifted you without any effort, placing your butt into the seat of his truck. You were in total shock from everything happening so fast, the next thing you knew the door was being shut harshly and the red-head disappeared from sight. 

Kirishima groaned, walking around the vehicle, his hands going to brush through his spiky locks and stopping abruptly as your scent hit him again. It was seeped into his clothing and lingering.

"Fuck," he sighed and clenched his fist.

You waited in the cold vehicle, jumping when the backseat door opened and Kirishima quickly tossed his bag into the seat. He then opened the driver's side door and got in, turning the vehicle on and making sure the heater was turned on. You watched him mess with the vents, aiming a majority of them to you and turning them up to full blast. A small smile tugged at your lips and you both put on your seat belts.

"Thanks for letting me ride along with you Kiri."

"It's nothing. We're going to the same place, why would I make you ride one of those shitty trains?"

You shrugged and looked out the window, Kirishima pulled into the street and started to drive. 

"I don't know, maybe so you wouldn't have to be so close to me for more than five minutes."

Kirishima noticed the slight hurt in your tone, his heart sunk and his hand gripped the steering wheel tight. He looked over to see you with your head resting in your palm, watching the street outside of the truck as it passed by. Your fingertip followed snowflakes that hit the glass. 

You really knew how to make him feel like shit without even trying. 

There were so many times where Kirishima second guessed his actions, wondering if some of his insults over the past month were really necessary, if those glares of disdain in your direction were too over the line.

Some moments he thought he'd just get over it and push aside this cowardly act and try to start over with you, but then he'd walk in on you and Kaminari dancing in the kitchen together, you smiling because of him. 

Or he'd see Sero playing with your hair, your head laid in his lap on the shop couch and the two of you discussed movies and music together, you smiling because of him. 

Then there were the blood boiling moments with Bakugou that he'd catch you in. The blonde smacking your ass like it was his to claim, his filthy mouth kissing your skin blatantly in front of him and his arms pulling you close into his hold like a snake wrapping around its prey - yet you still fucking smiling because of him!

He couldn't blame you for being hurt and for thinking that he'd rather be anywhere else than around you. 

"This is what I wanted after all," Kirishima thought before looking back at you, looking so out of place and uncomfortable. "... Isn't it?"

Taking a breath and looking back at the road, Kirishima propped his elbow on the windowsill and leaned his head on his fist as he drove. "Maybe I'm just trying to see if I can top five minutes."

Your head turned from the window, looking at Kiri with a confused expression. He looked back at you and smirked, making you smile wide in return, biting your bottom lip. 

"I bet you can't last a few hours without being a total asshole to me."

The male chuckled, his red eyes lighting up, "Are you challenging me?"

"Maybe I am Red. It's your life's purpose to be an utter dick to me, I bet you $50 that you'll end up insulting me or some rude shit say – three hours after we get to Sero's place?"

Kirishima let go of the steering wheel, crossing his arms behind his head at a stoplight and smiling wide. "I bet you $100 I can last the whole night little one."

"That's what she said," you cackled and pulled your knees to your chest in the seat. Kirishima smiled and relished in how small and adorable you were.

"Alright Michael Scott," he replied and held out his hand, "Deal or not?"

You smirked and firmly took Kirishima's hand in yours, shaking it and sealing the deal. His cocky grin softened and his red eyes looked at your small hand in his.

Unconsciously his thumb brushed your skin, you froze not sure what to do. It wasn't like the Kirishima to let his touches linger but you weren't exactly complaining or pulling away. You turned and looked to see the light had changed. Slowly you started to remove your hand from his, letting your fingertips linger on his palm.

"Uh – the light changed Kiri."

Kirishima turned to see you were right, his hand left and went to the steering wheel along with his eyes. You smiled softly and sat back into your seat, satisfied. 

The drive out of the city was quiet, too quiet and you racked your brain for a topic to discuss. It was actually nice chit-chatting with the spiky haired jerk at first and you really hated awkward silence. Your mind thought back to earlier, to the wound on his neck. You weren't sure if it was a good subject to bring up but it was worth a shot.

"Hey Kiri, what the hell did you do to get such a gnarly wound earlier?"

"I told you, it's nothing to concern yourself with."

You huffed and looked to the side at him, pouting your lips. 

"Maybe, but that's not the first wound you've showed up to work with Kiri. And you're not the only one who has, I've seen Katsuki, Sero and Denki show up with bruises or cuts. Sometimes you guys look beat to shit, I think it is something I should worry about."

A dark brow quirked and Kiri's jaw tightened, you were too fucking perceptive for your own good. He knew he couldn't just make some bullshit excuse, you'd more than likely see right through that. 

Your quirk really was a bitch sometimes, being a healer you knew wounds like the back of your hands. You could tell if they were caused by fists or weapons, how long they had been there, whether they were fresh or not. So some stupid 'we spar together' excuse wouldn't work.

"Look – I'm not even going to try and make up some excuse hoping you'll believe it because I know you won't, you’re too smart for that shit. But I'm also not going to tell you the truth. It's honestly none of your business and I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just – it's best that you're kept in the dark for now."

You swallowed thickly and narrowed your eyes. 

"So you think I'm not worthy enough to know, or that I can't take it huh? Even though I work at the same place as all of you and I'm part of your lives, which indirectly involves me in whatever the fuck it is you're doing. I'm sure as you can tell from personal experience, I'm a lot tougher than I look." 

You then turned back to the window and started to bundle up into a ball, lips pouting with a huff. 

"Whatever Kirishima, don't tell me. I'll just keep watching as you all walk into the shop day after day with these wounds that you expect me to heal them without question and not worry for your sorry asses."

Kirishima winced when his last name fell from your lips with even more hurt. He hated how things were going from actually good and back to shit. The man went to talk but you held up your hand, signaling that you didn't want to talk any further.

"I'm taking a nap, I need all the energy I can get to piss you off and get that hundred bucks. Wake me when we get there."

"Young lady, can you hear me? Please, let me know that you can."

You groaned, body feeling cold as you felt frail arms holding you close, cold fingers brushing your cheek. 

It was so cold, everything was cold. 

Going to move you felt an intense and agonizing pain shooting from the back of your shoulder. Face contorting, you went to scream until a hand firmly covered your mouth, muffling the sheer cries of pain.

"Shh, I know it hurts but you have to be quiet. I'm going to get you out of here, I promise," a deep and warm voice cooed.

It took every ounce of strength to peel your eyes open, to find a pair of black eyes with small blue iris's looking down upon you. If you had any energy you may have jumped, the pair of eyes were so sunken in, blonde hair hanging before them. 

Your hand felt on the chest of the man, it was baffling how this febrile person was even holding you up. There was blood dripping from his mouth, bruises and cuts covered his face. Looking down you could see that the shirt he wore was in shreds, revealing the colorful ink that dressed his skin. 

A smiling oni mask stretched across the front his throat, beneath it and on each of his pectorals were two different ships. One was withered and wrecked, it's sails had tattered holes and the wood of it breaking, almost complimenting the condition he was in himself. The other ship was in more pristine condition, strong and mighty, its sails full of wind.

"I'm so c-cold – it feels like something is stuck in me."

The man sighed and grabbed your wrist, feeling the pulse weakening fast.

"There's a knife in your back shoulder, I didn't remove it because you've already lost too much blood."

Your eyes widened and you squirmed, arms suddenly finding motivation to move and reach behind for the blade. The man stopped you though and shook his head. He quickly turned his face to cough, blood sputtering from his mouth. He wiped the back of his arm to clean it off before slowly standing and helping you struggle to your feet as well. You hissed and whimpered, feeling the blade inside of your flesh.

"Go lean against that wall, let me find something really quick to patch you up."

Nodding you did as instructed, feet dragging, you took in the familiar surroundings of your boyfriends basement. It didn't exactly strike you as odd yet, body too wrecked with shock from being impaled. Slumped against the wall, your voice was shaky when you informed the skeletonized man where he could find some duct tape and rags. He located them quickly and made his way to you, asking you to face the wall while he handed over a rag.

"Bite on this, I'm going to remove the blade and it's gonna be painful."

Placing the rag between your teeth, you took a deep breath when the man's hands braced your opposite shoulder and the hilt of the blade. He counted down to the moment of removing the object. You gasped and bit down on the rag hard, nails digging into the cement wail so fiercely the nail-beds were breaking and started to bleed. 

It felt like time slowed and you could feel the blade, inch by inch sliding back out from the thick flesh. Your body went ice cold all over, head falling to the wall once the last inch finally came out. The rag fell from your mouth and your jaw dropped open and panted for air.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch but I have to put as much pressure as I can on the wound. Just bear with me please!"

Tears flowed steadily from your eyes when you felt the man pressing rags to your wound with all his might, tightly taping them down with multiple strips of duct tape. Your entire body trembled once it was done and you turned to lean against the wall again. 

Looking at the blade in the strangers hand made your weak heart stop and your sobs worsen. You knew that blade, seen it many times and even felt it slice your flesh before, so why did it still come as a shock to see that same blade pulled from your back.

"That's h-his blade...d-did he do this to m-me?"

The man before you sighed and placed the handle of the blade in your palm, wrapping your fingers around it tightly. 

"I think you already know the answer to that sweetheart ... I'm sorry."

Your chest tightened at the realization that the wound in your back was a gift from the man you loved, shared a bed with, a life. 

Choking on sobs, the blonde male grabbed your face and shushed you. Through tearful eyes you were able to look closer at him and at the tattoos that littered his arms. His left had a lighthouse that looked like it was shining bright in the direction of the ships on his chest. Everything looked like American styled tattoos until you noticed the thick boldness of waves that took on a more Japanese style. A beautiful siren sat on his right arm, beneath her were a pile of bones and a skull in her hands as she serenaded. An entire story was being told on this man's body, a story you'd love to hear but knew you never would.

"I know this is a cliché saying but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger right? You're gonna get out of here, I'll make sure of that and when you do I want you to run, run as fucking far as you can. Keep this blade just in case, until you get a few miles away. Skip town and start a new life, one where you aren't some prisoner like you have been."

"What makes you think that," you replied with a sniffle.

The man gave you a warm smile and pinched your chin. "I just know young lady. I probably won't make it out alive and all I ask is that you run and you never look back, you go forward with your life. Don't bother sending any help because in all honestly I've been dead to the world for a while now. Just think of yourself for once and live. Once you settle down, maybe get a tattoo or something, really signify the start of your new life."

A small smile actually tugged at your lips and you nodded. It was heart-breaking to hear this man talk about how he knew he was going to die saving you. This man that knew nothing about you but was willing to lay down and surrender his life on the spot just for you. You went to thank him until the sound of footsteps could be heard from above. Your heart dropped and your already cold blood turned to ice. 

Panic was settling in, you could picture it, those sea-blue eyes that fucked up your life being the last thing you saw before dying, hands clutching for life around his charred and beautiful face as his own hands crushed your throat.

"Hey," the man's voice called snapping you out of your premonition, "Come on, I have to get you out quick."

Going along with the tattooed blonde, you followed him to a small break in the wall. You've been in this basement countless times before and never once saw this hole that was perfectly sized for you to slip through.

"How did that get there?"

Shaking his head the man commanded you hurry to the floor and towards freedom. "There's no time for that now dear, please."

Nodding, you slowly went to your knees and placed a hand on the wall, before crawling into the hole you looked back and placed a hand to the strangers cheek.

He smiled and pet your hair, "Hey, I know you're scared but it always helps to smile it tricks the fear inside of you, inside of anyone!"

After pouting and wiping tears from your nose and lips, a half-decent smile grew, it pleased your savior and he nodded with a chuckle.

"You have a wonderful smile young lady, make sure you keep it and wear it proudly."

"I will, I promise," you measly replied with quivering lips knowing this inked hero was about to meet his fate, "W-what's your na –"

Before you could finish, the door to the basement was heard being kicked open along with booted feet, followed by others, walking down the steps.

"Go," the tattooed man mouthed and hurried you into the hole.

Heart pounding you started to crawl and escape, hearing voices almost immediately. There were shouts and yells, things being thrown and destroyed.

"Where the fuck is she!"

The familiar deranged voice caused you to crawl faster until reaching the other side, crisp and cool air hitting your face and drying the cold sweat from your skin. Your nerves were so wrecked that bile made its way up and out onto the grass. Quietly you panted and heaved, stabbing the blade in your hand into the earth. 

Turning to look down the hole you escaped out of, shouts could be from the man that saved you, he was fighting hard you could tell but soon a deafening and blood curdling scream filled the air and knocked the breath out of your chest. 

It was silent ... so silent. 

Right when you were about to get up and escape, a set of maniacal turquoise eyes looked back at you down the hole, a sinister smirk crossing a set of familiar stitched features.

"I'll find you darling, and when I do I'll make that pretty little mouth scream my name one more time as the breath leaves your fucking lungs," he cackled before blue flames were sent your way.

"No, no, no! Please ... no! I won't tell anyone, let me go," you cried.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) wake up, it's okay! It's just me!"

Your eyes shot open to see crimson red hues looking onto you with fear and worry. Your chest heaved and heart hammered, blinking several times you focused on the pair of eyes. 

Slowly the numbness you felt was fading and being replaced by the feeling of strong and protective hands holding your face. Hot tears were also dripping from your cheeks. A shaky hand reached up to touch the vaguely familiar face before you. 

“Smiling tricks the fear,” you remembered.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, a shitty and half-assed smile crossed your lips.

"K-Kiri," you spoke with a broken voice before collapsing into his chest.

He froze when you buried your face into his clothes, a hand clutching at the fabric and another wrapped around him, gripping at his back. Your frame was literally trembling violently with sobs. 

Kirishima was panting himself, his brain trying to decide what to do, his hands struggling to decide where to touch you. 

"To fucking hell with it," he internally growled. 

Soon his arms were wrapping around you tightly, petting your hair and rubbing your back as he held you so close against the seat you fell from.

Kiri had parked in front of Sero's place the moment whatever you were dreaming was starting to escalate. Once he started to hear you whimpering and saw your body twitching, he acted and bolted from his seat to go around to yours, opening the door and shaking you awake. 

It was tearing his heart into pieces to have you crying out into his chest, full of so much fear and paranoia.

"It's okay little one, it was just a dream. I'm right here."

Your face nuzzled deeper into the warmth and safety of Kirishima's chest. It felt like an entire net of security was wrapped tight around you. Sniffling and pressing a cheek to his body, you stayed there letting him comfort you for however long he could manage. 

Eyes blinking you tried pushing back the nightmare of your past. One of Kirishima's hands came up to wipe a snowflake from your cheek, the small action making his heart jump for joy. Every time he'd watch Sero do the same thing he'd be overly jealous, now he was able to and you instantly leaned into his touch with a hum.

The red-heads thoughts were going hazy for a second from being so fucking close and touchy with you, but its like all of it was so normal, like the two of you weren't sworn enemies at each other's throats anymore. 

Your arm left his back and went to wipe your face clean, Kiri stopped you, his fingers hooking under your chin and making you look up. In shock still from your nightmare and from this nurturing side of Kirishima, you didn't register that he was using his own coat sleeve to wipe the tears and mess from your face.

"I – I'm so sorry Kiri, uh you can go on in without me, I just need a moment," you quietly spoke, eyes looking anywhere but his beautiful and worried face.

"No, I'm staying here until you calm down, plus I wouldn't feel right just leaving you out here alone. There's no telling what could happen," he replied.

Sniffling, you cupped his face, brushing his warm cheek with your thumb before leaning forward and placing a kiss to it. 

Kiri went still, not sure whether he should be elated or shoving you away, he was paralyzed. This was the first time you ever gifted him such a gesture, not like he deserved it anyway. You were so giving and so – fucking friendly, no matter what. 

Your hand soon left his face and your head fell back into his chest, a deep sigh leaving your lips.

"Thank you for waking me up, usually that nightmare plays on an endless loop until my body is just to exhausted to keep going."

Instinctively, Kiri's arms wrapped back around you and one hand went to pet your hair, "I'm not gonna lie little one, you really scared the shit out of me. It's just a nightmare though, it's not real."

You huffed a laugh and sarcastically nodded in agreement. Kirishima didn't like your response, it gave him this overwhelming bad feeling. Clearing his throat the man prompted to ask you the question that had been weighing on his mind.

"What exactly were you dreaming about, you won't tell anyone about what?"

Pulling away from Kirishima you flashed him a small smile before grabbing his forearms and squeezing them, signaling you wanted to be let go of now. He was reluctant at first but he did release you. After wrapping your coat tighter, you swung your feet and jumped from the vehicle, almost stumbling on the slick ground. Thankfully though Kiri was quick to catch your hand and steady you with a warning about the ice.

"Thanks Kiri, for everything. We should get inside, I'm hungry and cold."

Blinking rapidly, Kirishima quickly closed the truck door and bolted after you, grabbing a hold of your arm, "Hold on – I'm not letting you get off that easy. Answer me will ya?"

Looking away a sigh escaped, your breath visible in the dark air. 

"Let's just drop it please."

"Like hell I'm gonna just drop it, (Y/N) you were screaming bloody murder just a few minutes ago, begging for your life. If that was more than a nightmare and something is going on, you need to tell me, we can help you!"

Within a flash you arm snatched away from Kirishima and you finally looked his way, there was impatience and yet a blank look in your eyes. 

"I don't need to tell you anything Kirishima, you have your secrets right, remember that? Well so do I. Now I'm going inside before I die of starvation and hypothermia, it'd be nice if you joined me, you're doing good so far on this bet."

Before walking away from him, your expression changed and you smiled. An aggravated groan rumbled in Kirishima’s chest and he went after you once again. His red eyes narrowed when you picked up your pace and quickly entered the house. He tried his best to grab you again, but the sounds of overly excited greetings signaled that he was too late. 

There was no getting your attention for the rest of the night, you'd more than likely smile, like you always fucking do, and act like you weren't just crying your eyes out into him only minutes ago.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. 

If you were smiling now, hiding the evidence of the episode that just unveiled outside, then what else were you hiding every time you smiled. Was every single one of those heart stopping gestures just a mask for your fear and pain, or were they genuine? 

Removing his coat, Kiri hung his head low and he pondered all this, until his ears perked up at a severely pissed off sounding Denki and Sero coming straight for him.

"Why is it that every time you're left alone with her for more than five fucking minutes, she ends up crying," Sero hissed.

"Yeah man, do I gotta kick your ass again, what is your problem?"

Kirishima held up his hands, face contorting with confusion. "What the fuck? I didn't –"

A hand to his chest made him stop talking, his red eyes looked to see you standing between him and your two overprotective friends. You gave him an apologetic look and turned to face Denki and Sero.

"Guys chill okay? He didn't do anything, I just had a bad dream on the way here, that's all."

Sero titled his head and looked at Kirishima, the red-head nodded, agreeing with you. Denki slowly lowered his fighting ninja stance, his face showing that he was still weary of his friend.

"Okay then," Sero replied. He placed a hand on your lower back and lead you back into the kitchen, "You okay? Need to talk about it or something?"

"No Sero, really I'm fine," you replied with a smile.

Kirishima rolled his eyes and looked to Denki, his golden eyes narrowing.

"I'm watching you bro," he replied and motioned two fingers from his eyes and towards Kiri.

The sounds of Denki yelling for help could be heard from the kitchen, causing you and Sero to look and see him in a headlock under Kirishima's arm. 

Another door could be heard slamming open from the right, turning your head, Bakugou, Deku and Shouto appeared. All three of them in different clothes than what they left in. The smile on your face grew bigger as you went to greet the men, hugging Shouto first gently then moving onto Deku. He smiled wide and hugged back. Pulling away, his arms stayed wrapped around your waist and his face was soon in your hands, his freckles being littered with kisses.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're here Deku! We gotta catch up, I wanna know everything about you!"

Izuku chuckled and pinched your cheek, "Whatever you wish!"

Before the two of you could continue, strong and possessive arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you away from the green bean with a whimper. In a flash, your back was against the wall, head trapped by the same two arms. Red hungry eyes and a devilishly attractive smile made your skin heat up and thighs slightly rub together. Bakugou chuckled and moved one hand to trace his fingertip under your chin to push it up.

"And where is my kiss princess?"

A brow quirked and you giggled, bringing a hand up to rest on the side of Bakugou's neck, "Aww, are you jealous Katsuki?"

"Tch, I'll never be jealous of that fucking nerd. But if you're just handing shit out like that, you gotta be fair, right?"

A hum left as you shrugged your shoulders, hand pulling Bakugou's face close enough to kiss his cheek. He grinned and returned the favor, but kissed the corner of your mouth instead, making you smile at him with a cynical look.

Pulling away he grinned at the affect he had on you and turned to see everyone else chatting, eating and drinking, also another pair of red eyes on the two of you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, he walked back over and into the kitchen to join the others. Pulling you close as he leaned back against the counter.

Bakugou chuckled and smiled wide, "Anyone up for a game of strip poker?"