Breakfast_for_Dinner



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    Sometimes life came at you with a clenched fist and Ilya had never figured out how to duck.

    So here he was, twenty-eight years old, single, dealing with the fallout from injuries given to him by the game he loved, and the second youngest assistant coach in the league to one of the worst teams. Stability was hard to come by, but he was managing.

    Then along came Shane Hollander to knock him on his ass, one more time.

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    23 May 2026

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    so beautiful 😭😭😭😭 read in one night

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    “So,” Buck says, head spinning. He’s really feeling the alcohol now. They definitely should have eaten something before drinking. “No women.”

    Eddie fumbles as he sets the bottle down on his bedside table. “No women.”

    “What about men?” Buck blurts, which is—crazy, because again: neither of them are gay.

    They’re just two straight guys. Two straight guys in Eddie’s bed, tipsy, and—and Eddie doesn’t want to sleep with women. Which means nothing.

    Beside him, Eddie goes preternaturally still. “I would know, if I—you know.”

    “Okay.” Buck’s hands twitch at his sides. “I—yeah. Me too.”

    Then, very seriously, Eddie turns to look at him. “If I were gay, you would be my first call.”

    Warmth blooms in Buck’s chest. Eddie’s so nice to him. “Dude,” he says, touched. “You’d be my first call too.”

    Or: a story set in season 2 featuring tequila, Just The Tip, and, finally, a kiss.

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    28 Mar 2026

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    If Ilya and Shane got to soft launch their relationship on social media

    (Fan Mail video leak did not happen.)

    Made by my own bare hands and images from Pinterest, fuck ai

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    27 Mar 2026

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    Oh, alright, cool.

    Cool, cool, cool. Neat.

    That is a photograph of Eddie Diaz's dick.

    It's just there. On the screen. In his hand. In high resolution. His best friend’s dick is in his hand. Well, wait — the photo. The photo of the penis is in his hand. Eddie’s dick isn’t in his hand. That would be absurd.

    It’s just a penis. Buck has one of those.

    So does Eddie, apparently and it’s… Buck has seen it, absorbed it, and every thought he's ever had has been replaced by a high-pitched tone and the image in front of him, which is — and this is the last coherent observation he'll produce for the foreseeable future —

    Big.

    Genuinely, impressively big.

    Buck closes out of the photo and locks the phone so hard he's surprised it doesn't crack in half.

    "Maddie say anything?" Eddie asks.

    "Yep," Buck squeaks. Like a mouse. A giant, shocked mouse that has just seen its best friend’s erect dick.

    "You okay?"

    "Great. Y-yep. So great. I-I'm just really— the sunset was really— it's very— yep."

    "It’s yep?"

    "Uh-huh. Very yep."

    Or,
    Stumbling upon your straight best friends' nudes is fine. Buck is fine. Everything is fine.

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    23 Mar 2026

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    “Shane Hollander’s having a big gay wedding.”
    Ilya’s ball rocketed sideways into the woods with a crack like a rifle shot; somewhere in the trees, a goose honked in outrage.
    “Jesus Christ,” Tyler said.
    “Wow,” Marly said. “That was…what the fuck was that, Roz?”
    Ilya was gripping the club so hard his knuckles had gone white. “Bad swing.”
    “That wasn’t a bad swing, that was like a physics-defying swing. I didn’t know you could make a ball go in that direction. You okay?”
    “Fine.” Hollander was getting married. Getting gay married. Who the fuck was Hollander marrying? He wasn’t even… Ilya cleared his throat, shoved his biggest club back in the bag, noted distantly that his hands were shaking. “Hollander is gay?”

    OR: Ten years after the Tampa Bay All-Star Game, Ilya Rozanov crashes Shane Hollander's wedding

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    22 Mar 2026