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#you can pry my incredibly bad habit nailed into me of never crying in front of ppl from my cold dead hands đź‘Ť
moomoomooing · 7 months
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also i swear i will post eventually but after that week of consistent posting i hit artblock and have been promptly sent into an annoying bout of probably depression and anxiety?
ill be back eventually, im just unusually tired ALL the time and busy
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depressed-sock · 5 years
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Would you?
A Fallen Hero fanfic
A short first date fic inspired by some dialogue in the retribution alpha. (since this was actually in progress before gthb I’ll be doing something else for the first date slot on that.)
Past Kiyo/Ortega
Tw: canon-typical violence
Minor Retribution spoilers
 “Will you go out on a date with me?”
 You freeze, head whipping towards him instead of focusing on the gun fire directed at you. You must have hit your head or misheard. He couldn't have just-
 “Shit! Get down!” he grabs your arm pulling you down into the cover beside him. He's looking at you worriedly but you're still trying to process whether you heard him right. He watches you carefully before he seems to deem you well enough because a smirk makes its way onto his face as he continues, “So about that date-”
 “Pay attention to the fight!” you hear your voice crack as you begin to panic. Why would he think now was a good idea to ask something like that? Actually, why would he ask that at all? You've only kissed a few times since the Psychopather incident... mostly when everything was so close to falling apart. Like recently…
 There was so much blood and you had never felt more terrified in your life. Terrified of Castrofiend and it's deathtrap of a mind waiting for you to stick your hand in so it could shred you to pieces...of the way it stood over Ortega's bleeding form, of Ortega being so incredibly close to death and you helpless, left with almost no way to save him.
 It was luck, that's all you can say. So much luck and several lives spent to finally defeat the Castrofiend long enough for you to pull him out of there. Steel had found you sobbing, lips pressed against his temple as you yelled at him to keep him awake. You had pressed your mask against his wounds trying to stem the flow of blood as much as you could.
 He shouldn't even be here right now. You know he must be close to tearing his stitches again and if he does your going to lock him in a room with Steel for the next three days. Maybe then he'd get some rest instead of asking you stupid questions in the middle of being shot at. Because he couldn't be serious about that...He's not… he's not serious….You really hope he's not serious.
 He looks at you and shrugs, “Okay admittedly not the best time to ask but I think it's only fair you know that you're extremely hot.”
 Your immediate response is to deny it, but your voice catches in your throat. He's looking at you with that stupid smile but his eyes are different. Too soft, too caring. You should have noticed sooner, should have run from this city a long time ago, should have kept telling him to fuck off. But you didn't, you didn't and now this feels too real.
 This is nothing like your play flirting usually is with him. Your habit of echoing and matching people's tone got you into that mess and now- fuck you're not supposed to actually feel anything. You're not supposed to be blushing under your mask, staring at him absolutely dumbfounded.
 His grip on your arm tightens and you follow him uselessly as he pulls you after him into a different cover as the one behind you bursts into shards. “Hey! Come on I didn't think you'd be this surprised,” he glances over his shoulder at whoever's still trying to fill you both with bullets.
 Fuck you can't remember who you're fighting anymore, your brain is fizzling out and over panicking on the problem directly in front of you that is Ricardo Ortega.
 "You can't be serious," you shake your head turning your focus to the stun gun in your hands. Ignore him and focus on the problem you can hit and actually make go away. You just need a clear shot and-
  "Kiyo." You refuse to look up at him, refuse to acknowledge the way his voice is far too serious, "I-"
  "If you take this asshole out before I do I'll consider it," the words come out rushed, desperate for him to stop talking. You want to shake him, tell him that you are not something he wants. You're not something he will ever want.
 "Alright." You don't even get the chance to respond back as he vaults over the cover. You stare at the space he had occupied next to you until your mind finally clicks in realization.
 "YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!"
…
 "I can't believe you fucking did that," you mutter as you walk beside him into the bar.
 "What? You can't believe I took down the bad guy without-"
  "-without a brain? Yeah, it was entirely unbelievable." You snap at him, you're tired and angry and you are most definitely going to handcuff him to a post and leave him there. Fucking Charge, rushing in without thinking and almost getting himself killed again.
  "Come on, it wasn't that bad. I didn't even get injured," his voice feels too light compared to your mood. It's like nails scratching on a chalkboard making this entire interaction more painful and annoying than it should be.
  "You pulled some of your fucking stitches out," you hiss at him as you slide into the back corner booth. You know that because you had to restitch them because he didn't want to get yelled at by his doctor. "Fucking idiot," you mutter as you look out the dark discolored window.
   But then he turns everything on its head as he slides in next to you, trapping you into the corner. You feel yourself freeze, this isn't your routine, this is definitely not your routine and you know exactly why it's not your routine, "Maybe I just wanted you to kiss me better."
 "Stop that," you elbow him softly, trying not to cause more damage, as you superstitiously look around. No one's looking, no one's watching. But you can't help but feel eyes on your back that's pressed against the wall, making that spot just between your shoulders itch. This is too out in the open, too many people around to notice you, to see how close he is to you.
 He takes your blow with a soft 'oomph' before letting out a small laugh, "Kiyo it's alright, no one here is going to care enough to bother us." He leans close arm wrapping around your waist as he brings you closer to him. Unintentionally allowing you to use him as a shield against prying eyes.
 "Get on your side," you whisper desperately at him. This is different, this isn't what you're used to him doing. You should have known better. Should have just said no because all you had said was that you would consider it. You never said you'd say yes to going on a date with him.
 You did though, after lots of yelling and maybe a bit of crying. It was too soon, too many memories of him bleeding out. You're terrified of losing him and you refuse to look deeper into that feeling. Refuse to acknowledge it even exists. This isn't a date, it's just another day, just another routine that Ortega has changed on you.
 He leans against you letting his head rest against yours. "But I haven't even been kissed better," a husky whisper against your skull that leaves you with goosebumps and a shiver.
 "If you want I'll kiss my knuckles before I knock you the fuck out," you push his head away, glaring at him and his annoying smile. "You can consider it an indirect kiss and maybe you'll get some actual sleep."
 "That is an incredibly tempting offer but I've been told multiple times not to sleep with a concussion," he winks at you because of course he does. You're one of the people who has told him multiple times.
 You try to push him off the seat instead, but it's like trying to move a wall. Fuck he's not going to move. He's not going to move and the only way for you to escape is to make a scene by either climbing over the table or going under it. You could do that. It's not like you haven't made a scene in Hoots before and you're pretty sure owl expects you to at this point. Just Sidestep trying to annoy Ortega like always.
 "If you really want me to move I will," he says it offhandedly, almost softly. He probably can feel the way you've tensed, see the way your eyes keep darting around looking for an escape. He knows he's already spooked you, so he's making it casual. Letting you choose so that you can take control back.
 ".... just...just don't sit too close," you give in a little, shifting comfortably in your seat. Because despite your panic you don't want him to move. You're still so afraid that you'll look away and he'll be gone. Getting himself into an impossible situation and getting himself killed. You look up at him and his smile is blinding. Great, this is already inflating his ego. Fan-fucking-tastic.
 "Alright," he let's go of you scooting a few inches away. Face far too smug and infuriating.
 "You're not allowed to say that word anymore," you try to glare at him but feel yourself faltering. Why do you always give in? It keeps happening and you're not sure how you feel about it. You're not sure if you actually want to know how you feel about it.
 "Alright," he grins at you and you can't stop yourself from elbowing his side again. This time though you're not as gentle, a satisfied smile making its way to your face as he doubles over in pain.
 "Idiot."
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