What’s this? Me adding to a fic I haven’t updated since 2023? Sssssh nobody saw nuffin…
Alright home straight now. I will sort this out in just two more chapters, I promise. Really.
What went before - the below will make a little more sense if you read the first three bits 🥴
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His shivering big brother had been prised from his hidey hole with a mixture of gentle reassurance, generous application of the little-brother-eyes and eventually a bit of heavy-lifting muscle.
After the longest, dampest hug the two brothers had shared in a long time, Scott’s tense posture had melted a little and he had let himself be chivvied into the shower to warm up. Virgil waited for the sound of running water then let his calm demeanour slide into a grimace and an agonised groan.
With a shiver of his own he pulled his damp t-shirt away from his torso and flapped it around in a futile attempt to dry it. He frowned at the soggy patch which proved how long Scott had been sat out there trying to drown himself in sea mist.
He gave it up as a bad job, ripped it off and shoved it down the laundry chute, then rifled through his brother’s closet to pull out another of Scott’s oversized hoodies. Everyone knew he deliberately bought them too big so his stockier little brothers would be comfortable in any borrowed items. They hung off the eldest brother like a sack but he still insisted on wearing them occasionally so that when one was inevitably stolen, it was still undeniably his… so the magic worked.
Virgil allowed himself an affectionate smile at the sight of one of his own trademark plaid shirts hanging alongside. A shock of red amongst blue, grey, black. Scott would insist it was there in case Virgil ever happened to need it. Virgil knew better. The magic worked both ways, it seemed.
He selected an XXL mid-grey TopGun-logo’d number that was so huge it was sagged around his own shoulders like a tired hug. Finally physically warm again, there was now no excuse for the arhythmic trembling of his hands… Virgil clamped them under his armpits as he began to pace the floor in the restless manner he’d usually roll his eyes at his elder brother for.
How could he have been so blind?
Scott’s tiny frown lines had been barely visible over the last days but more than evident to one who could read him like a book despite his valiant attempts to disguise them with a calm voice and encouraging smiles. Indeed Virgil had noticed them, but hadn’t let himself stop to consider why they were there. To care why they were there. Instead, he’d wrapped himself up in his own fog of bitterness to the extent he’d viewed his brother’s uncharacteristically quiet, unbusy but constant presence as an annoyance - that precious availability the two of them so often missed out on had been an ironic frustration at a time Virgil had for once in his life been trying to avoid his eldest brother.
Scott knew. Of course he’d known that Virgil had upset himself and he’d been doing his best to give him chance to talk when he was ready. To be there for him without pushing. Quiet and patient. Everything Virgil had requested in the past when Scott’s anxious tendency to smother with love and concern became overwhelming.
He’d done everything right.
His reward: Virgil had made it clear he’d rather talk to anyone else.
Even the most confident, rational person might have wondered if the problem was with them after all. Scott, always managing to accept blame faster than anyone else even realised it was up for allocation, must have thought he’d done something truly awful.
It would have been torture.
The whistle in his ears hardened into the screech of horsehair ground furiously across discordant strings. The fragile songbird that had so soothed him earlier was torn and broken in the claws of a predator and it was Virgil who’d let it near.
“I’ve upset you.”
The note had been discarded in the rush to find his brother but Virgil was never going to forget the words.
“I miss you.”
With a rush of clarity Virgil realised that at least half of the Wrong feeling this last week wasn’t even the same Wrong feeling he’d started it with: He’d been missing Scott, even as he’d tried to avoid him.
Obviously he should have been honest from the start. He knew this. And yet… And yet he still didn’t know how he could possibly bring up that particular issue without Scott thinking it was his fault - ironically trying not to worry his brother had been the supposed motivation behind the hurried and entirely unconvincing lie that caused this mess in the first place. But it was clear he was going to feel hurt either way and Virgil couldn’t bear that. He couldn’t allow it to continue. Not when right now his big brother was punishing himself for the far worse crimes he believed he must have committed.
Virgil ended his circuit at the bathroom door and rested his head against it, listening to the irregular splatter of water falling around an object that kept shifting position.
He released the breath he was holding and screwed up his face as he drew a fresh gulp of air into this lungs. This was Scott. His best friend. They’d dealt with worse. As little kids they’d promised to always stick together, no matter what. To assume the best of each other. It was a rare occasion since that either of them had ever broken that vow…
The guitar drew his eye. More to distract himself from the screeching in his ears and his spiralling panic over finding the right words than a real desire to play, he crossed to the bed and perched on the edge, pulling the instrument across his lap and picking out a few quiet chords. The G and the Em sparked a sudden memory and he began strumming in earnest the simple accompaniment to a song they’d sang together in the simpler days -
And when you call
And need me near
Sayin' where'd you go?
Brother, I'm right here
And on those days
When the sky begins to fall
You're the blood of my blood
We can get through it all
Absorbed in humming to himself Virgil didn’t notice the sound of running water cease nor the bathroom door opening. The guitar spluttered a discordant twang as from behind him came a soft and still painfully uncertain:
“Hey.”
Virgil's big brother stood awkwardly in the bathroom doorway, swathed in his signature super-soft blue bathrobe, wet hair standing up in spikes, with the slightest hint of a curl at the edges where it was beginning to dry. As Virgil looked up at him, Scott looked as though he was about to say something more but suddenly dropped his eyes to pick intently at a loose thread on his cuff.
Moments passed. Each of them held the weight of the whole week. The months of quiet wrongness before it. The years of refusing to allow the feeling to become real by shaping it in words. Scott had always been better at words.
Virgil still had no idea where to begin.
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The song Virgil is playing is called Brother by NEEDTOBREATHE which has always struck me as a very Tracy song, especially Earth&Sky. Here’s my favourite version (the part quoted is the middle 8 and starts about 1:35).
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Heated Rivalry (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov
Characters: Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, David Hollander
Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Boys In Love, boys being boyfriends, Fluff and Smut, they are figuring it out, isn't it romantic, starts fluffy ends smutty, Father Figures, Ilya's Love Language is Acts of Service, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, They are Just Fools in Love in a Glass Cottage, Post-Episode: s01e06 The Cottage (Heated Rivalry), Don't copy to another site
Series: Part 1 of Or Even Two
Summary:
"Ilya is so fucking in love it feels like it must be radiating off his body like an aura that everyone will be able to see. Good. He hopes they do. Ilya Rozanov loved Shane Hollander mind, body and soul. And he played some hockey. Let them put that on his gravestone one day. What a proud fucking legacy."
-
Ilya wants to cook breakfast for Shane but is daunted by how many of the little details that make up his boyfriend's life he doesn't actually know.
“Besides," Vicente signs, their smirk returning, “You're prettier in a skirt than the elder."
Reading this I was like !!! 🤯🤯💥❤️🔥💘
Vincent, my sweetheart... the man you are!!! There’s just something so good about it when someone who’s usually so silent and cold towards others is flirting with you not that I’m complaining! I’m all for Vincent. ❤️
Also, I was so happy finally meeting Tellus and Brayam that I didn’t see this heartbreak coming. 💔
Inizi is won, but it is not the victory you imagined it to be.
We won the first battle, but it came at a heavy cost our beautiful, kind-hearted adoptive mother Thaleia was gravely wounded.pls tell me author she will get better and heal. 💔My poor FMC has already lost too much 😭
And lastly,thank you ,author, for this amazing update!I honestly can’t express how much I adore your IF. When the demo ended, I was like noooo, I want more! 😭 I’m eagerly waiting for the next update, but I also know how much time and effort you pour into this story. So first and foremost please take care of yourself and have some well-deserved me time! You’ve earned it. 💖
Since I already revealed spoilers I can answer this now. 😅
I’m glad you enjoyed the skirt call back. 😉
Thank you so much for the kind words! I’ve written a few short snippets for chapter 5, but I’m taking a break before really getting into it.
And don’t worry, I’ve got a lot of healing and humor planned for the next chapter. ❤️
Okay, ya’ll aren’t ready for the Manny Alvarez fic I’ve been working on for the last 3 nights. It’s unlike anything I’ve written before but I’m so proud of it, it’s just so good and flowing so nicely (currently just shy of 7k words right now). I have no idea how long it’s gonna actually be, but really hoping I’ll have it all wrapped up and ready to share with you by the end of the weekend. Eeekk 😊
I'm just gonna throw caution to the wind and ask - would anyone be interested in reading a König x reader where you and König bond over your love of heavy metal? 👀 asking for a friend
(Hello I love this concept!!! It's turning into something I will gradually update on AO3. <3 Thank you! Link's at the bottom!)
Joyce reread the wedding invitation for the fourth time, trying to formulate an adequate enough white lie. She hasn’t seen Aunt Darlene’s side of the family in nearly a decade, though they’ve made phone calls and sent greeting cards periodically. It stung a little, wanting to go, but knowing better of it. The invitation itself is far too extravagant; an all-expenses-paid overnight stay in upstate Illinois on a picturesque rustic estate.
She wondered briefly if she could convince one of the boys to tag along as her Plus One– but the embarrassment and guilt at the concept set in quickly. It was just too humiliating to go alone as the lone divorcée in the Horowitz lineage. She would exhaust herself dodging all of the prying questions. Nope, can’t do it.
She took another pull on her cigarette before putting it out and started for the phone.
“Hello?” Melanie, her cousin, the Bride-to-Be. Joyce’s breath caught a little as she heard her.
“Mel, hey it’s me, it’s–”
“Joycie! Oh my gosh. Did you get the invite?!” Melanie’s voice went an octave higher as she spoke. “Oh my gosh, it feels so good hearing your voice. It’s been too long.” Melanie is ten years younger, but Joyce has always loved the girl like a sister. One of her favorite memories is teaching Melanie how to use Aunt Darlene’s sewing machine.
Melanie heavily relied on Joyce after Darlene’s suicide.
This is going to smart.
“Y-Yeah, I did. Congratulations. Rick is a great guy.” Joyce leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. “About the–”
“So, I was thinking. Since Dad’s got the whole place booked up for the week, what if you came a little early? Maybe a night earlier? You could be there for the rehearsal dinner.”
“Listen, Mel.” Joyce stammered, looking down at her slippers. “About that,” she sighed.
There was a sniffle on the other line. “Joyce. I can’t wait to see you. It means so much to have you there. Y’know, after Mom… I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Shit.
“I can’t,” Joyce began. “I can’t go…”
“What?” The barb of hurt in Melanie’s voice was too much.
“I can’t go… A day early, I mean. I can’t go a day early. I’d– I’d have to ask my boyfriend, um,” Joyce was lightly hitting the back of her head against the wall. “He’s really busy with work. I-It’s an important job. Very important.”
“Oh!” Melanie sniffled again, beginning to chuckle. “God, Joycie, you scared me.” There was a sound of shuffling. “So, who’s the lucky guy? What’s he do? Can you ask him and get back to me? I’d love to see as much of you as I can, but I get it... I also need to know what you’d like for your dinner options.”
“He’s, uh, he’s tall.” Joyce grimaced at herself and mouthed an animated ‘Fuck.’
“Huh?”
“Steak entrées, we’ll both have the steak.” Joyce rolled her eyes, craning her neck at a sound outside. She saw Hopper’s Blazer pulling into park with Will and El jumping out. It was Wednesday, which meant he’d be bringing Will home for Joyce– a weekly favor that felt predestined at this moment.
“O-kay,” Mel continued. “He’s tall and he likes steak. What does he do? What’s his name?”
“One sec, Mel, Will just got home,” Joyce interrupted and rested the receiver on her shoulder, turning the mouthpiece away. “Hey, sweetie.”
Will noticed the phone and waved at his mom before disappearing around the corner. El followed closely behind, mirroring Will’s wave. They have an arrangement that Will hands off copies of his homework assignments to assist in her homeschooling, but the girl loves to ask a million questions about the nuances of his school day.
Jim was in the doorway, pulling his hat off. He nodded and narrowed his eyes at the phone, a silent question of ‘Everything okay?’
Joyce’s heart skipped a beat– not just at the knowing tenderness of his concern, but at the positively certifiable decision she was about to make.
She pulled the phone back to her mouth. “Yeah, sorry, Mel. He’s a cop, actually. Chief of Police. His name is Jim.”
