So, it’s the weekend, and the next rec in my “old fics” is fairly short so I thought I’d rec the following fic, because it’s slightly longer.
this city bleeds its aching heart by Renne
A true classic! I’m a bit of a sucker for fake relationship fics, but often the premises are quite a stretch. In this one, Steve and Bucky are undercover as a married couple for SHIELD, which is a totally legitimate reason for a fake relationship right? The classic tropes are all here - mutual pining, faking it but not really.
The best fake relationship fic ever? Let me know if you think there’s others! I’m pretty sure there’s at least a couple in the bookmarks… 👀
A Dozen Bottles of Beer on the Wall
Where a man who’s resigned himself to a lifetime of lonliness and regret, finds out he’s not really alone.
Dante nursed a drink, some of the good stuff this time, not the cheap shit he usually drank. It didn’t matter, the purpose was still the same, to shut off those thoughts that always intruded when he was alone with his thoughts.But this time, he wasn’t alone. His eyes never left the sleeping form of the kid on the couch, Nero, his nephew. For the first time in over a decade,
he wasn’t alone.
He had to admit, when he laid eyes on the kid, that moment when he saw the disheveled white hair, he had suspected this was yet another lure sent out by Mundus. The first one, a couple years back, a lady that looked like the spitting image of his mother literally crashed into his life, saying something about a place called Mallet Island. His gut screamed that it was a trap, and after a few nights infused with alcohol, he’d decided to just ignore it. Unlike his brother, he felt no compunction to throw his life away on a futile quest of revenge.
Read it HERE on Ao3
✧.* part four kakyoin.
tw: mentions of trauma, PTSD, anxiety
- Kakyoin is a summer in the city; he carries with him the air of a light cologne or spray starch effused with balmy Moroccan oil (because goodness knows he needs something to style all that curly hair of his)
⁃ he seems like the kind of guy to call his s/o “honey,” “sweetheart,” “pumpkin”… how he utters such sugary nicknames with a perfectly cool look on his face is a mystery. he grins smartly if you blush in response.
⁃ most everyone in the workplace gets along well with him, since they know how cordial he can be towards people who get on his good side and how he’d helped to defeat Dio
⁃ he’s worked hard to get to where he’s at and has earned the respect of his coworkers. but the guard he’s kept between himself and others (“strangers”) since childhood, though a bit more selectively transparent, seems fortified after a certain trip to Egypt. jokes and laughter are more common among friends. he can be quite patient, but tends to become snappy and sarcastic when that patience wears thin.
⁃ he’s tried to attain a sense of normalcy in his life, and struggles internally when someone or something reminds him of the water tower. he is meticulous in hiding aspects of himself, such as pain or fear. if he seems protective, paranoid, even overly attentive to the needs of his loved ones, it’s because he’s been struck with a brutal consciousness of time. (literally.) he’s very aware that, at any moment, something could happen to him or to his loved ones, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. so he does what he can with the time that he has, unapologetically acting on and expressing his feelings. all the while, an incited electricity throbbing under his skin.
⁃ art is his go-to distraction. after a long day at work or when the mattress feels rock hard under his back and he’s been awake for too long to go back to sleep, he stretches out the legs of his easel in front of the sliding glass window of his apartment and quietly mixes paints for a few minutes before starting on a piece.
⁃ and of course, his s/o is his closest companion and greatest comfort. given that he’s only recently discovered the draw of affection that comes with romantic involvement, he can be quite touchy. letting you know directly, but smoothly, what he’d like to do with you. usually prideful, he only allows himself to be the little spoon on particularly rough days. he might lay his head on your lap and let you play with his hair or draw circles into the side of his shoulder. the sound of your voice and sense of your presence acting as silent assurances that you were okay and that he could relax. he might fall asleep right then and there if he’s tired.
Christmas had been far from John’s mind. His thoughts had been following the latest enigma, their new Number. But before he knew it the riddle had been solved and, with what was probably sheer dumb luck, with almost no violence ensuing. Not a minute later after mission completion, Hendricks was shooing him back into the depths of the city with a light hearted command to get groceries because their stash of instant ramen was running low.
Now, he’s standing in a packed check-out line, wondering how the hell he’s managed to find himself in such an awkwardly thrilling moment. So awkward and so surprising this encounter is, in fact, that the vigilante hasn’t actually responded yet.
(Fluffier companion piece to “Hello, Finch.”)
Interested? Read more here
A while back I wrote a short little story. You can find it HERE. This is a distant sequel.
Vergil awakens from a nightmare. He’s used to them, he’s had them for more than a decade and a half, so much so he doesn’t even wake up with a gasp, or god forbid, a scream anymore. This one was much more vivid than usual though, of a blood red sun, of cracked stone and suffocating armour. But it doesn’t matter, he knows how to deal with them.
He keeps his eyes closed, and thinks about what he must do for the day. They’ve been in this motel room for too long, it’s time to move on. The sighting of that demon that wore his mother’s face was the final thing that shattered the illusion of stability for himself and Nero.
No doubt the child will be disappointed, but will accept the decision to move. His son is very conflict averse, almost concerningly so, but Vergil understands. After all, he knows what it’s like to be abandoned, to be willing to do ANYTHING to be loved and protected.
The boy will be turning nine soon, and Vergil wishes to do something special for him. Nero, when asked, had said that anything his father wanted to do would be nice, which leaves Vergil to observe the unspoken cues his son gives out, the way his eyes widen as they passed a carousel, him lingering a moment longer in front of an action figure display. All Vergil needs to do now is to figure out what his son would like to eat.
He breathes in, and that’s the first sign things are wrong. Instead of the smell of cleaning chemicals attempting to cover up the smoking from the last motel occupant, he is bombarded with familiar, yet unexpected scents. Gunpowder. Engine grease. And most alarmingly of all, stale pizza.
**ROLE-REVERSAL SAGA NOW COMPLETE**
- 3-part series mirroring the events of TFA, TLJ, and then diverging completely and unapologetically from TROS
- Rated T/M, for canonical character death, violence toward an animal, well-identified brief dub-con, brief images of horror
- beta’d by @happilyeveraftereveryday, couldn’t have done it without her!
Am I salty from the mess that was December 2019? Definitely. Am I channeling it into positive creative effort? HELL YEAH BABY
Read the epilogue here.
Or, start from the very beginning here.
THE QUIET WOLF AND HIS SAVAGE SONG
Eddard Stark, or better know to family and friends simply as Ned, was used to be overshadowed due to his quiet and solemn nature, he wasn’t the sort of man who caught the attention of the public at first glance, as he always seemed to be surrounded by people who always outshined him by either appearance or presence.
But what the world and he didn’t predict was that he would be part of a dance that would cause a rift between the seven kingdoms when he heards a prophecy from a fortune teller at the greatest tourney of them all, who tells him his destiny is tied to a monster feared by all who would bring him and his family the greatest of pains and sorrows.
Will the Starks survive the great tragedy that would mark a new age?
(NOTES: I probably would change the title later, so bear with me)