(More will be added when I can remember them lmao)
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Cliff teaches Ilya the prayer he says to St. Anthony when you lose things (Tony Tony please come down something’s lost that can’t be found) and now ilya walks around the house like
“TONY, you motherfucker, I need my KEYS! WHERE ARE MY KEYS TONY”
getting so hard I’m gonna faint at the thought of some player chirping Ilya post coming out but it’s specifically targeted at Ilya’s mother (irina foundation being common knowledge) and for once, Ilya doesn’t have a comeback- he’s in a slump, he’s depressed, he’s feeling raw, and he freezes- just long enough for Shane to glide up, drop his gloves and punch the guy in the face so hard he knocks him out cold <3 that’s Shane’s man you’re talkin to <3
The thing that is so delicious about Shane and Ilya's dynamic is that it rides the line between admiration, annoyance, and attraction so fucking well. It's very “that goal was literally fucking insane and I hate you so much for pulling that shit against me and I love you so much for being capable of it and I need you to fuck me about it quite urgently” like, that’s the vibe
ilya hanging out with The GuysTM and they get a little drunk and start talking about girls and sex and they make a game out of who has done the craziest thing in the bedroom and the guys say stuff like in high school i fucked my gf while her dad was home and yeah jessie wanted to tie me up the other day and ilya will say things like one time shane couldn’t sleep so i edged him the whole night and then made him cum so hard he passed out and slept for seven hours and shane bought this book with 100 different sex positions and we tried them all over three days and he made a spreadsheet and the guys just pat him on the back like sure roz, keep telling yourself that, there’s no way hollander wants anything but regular missionary for 8 minutes and no matter what ilya says they never believe him
If Ilya does ever figure out that Shane's autistic it'll be through something so stupid. Like he's scrolling through TikTok one night because he can't sleep and he comes across this video that's like 'Dear autism community: rate this spoon'. And there's this whole reveal where they unwrap it from a cloth so he's expecting the fanciest spoon he's ever seen and then they reveal it and he's so disappointed to find it's just... a normal fucking spoon.
He thinks this must be a joke so he goes to the comments, and sure enough it's absolutely full of people who not only seem to think this spoon is worthy of rating in the first place, but who seem to have very strong opinions on what makes it a good or bad spoon. To Ilya a spoon is a spoon is a spoon. It's absolutely baffling to him that people seem to think the handle looks like it's not weighty enough, or that the shape of the bowl is wrong, or that it's too flat or too square. He opens the playlist of cutlery rating videos because surely this can't be the norm, and sure enough every single one has a comment section full of very strong opinions about how good or bad this normal fucking fork or knife is.
And then a memory returns to him, as he looks over at his peacefully sleeping husband, of Shane moving in and having to get rid of all his cutlery to replace it with his.
"Sorry, I know it's stupid, but yours are really bad to hold, baby. It's literally all I can think about every time I eat here."
And Ilya didn't mind at the time. So Shane likes his own cutlery better? That's a small compromise when Ilya doesn't have strong feelings about silverware in the first place. But now things are beginning to click, and he's beginning to draw a line between the opinionated spoon people and the day he had to drive his cutlery to the nearest goodwill.
Ilya spends the rest of the night reading about autism and suddenly there's so much more that's beginning to make sense. He doesn't know how he'll bring it up with Shane – if he'll ever bring it up with Shane – but for how it's good to know.
Canon divergent AU where Shane is a little more paranoid and when Hayden first comments on "Boston Lily", he decides he has to do something to break up the pattern and make it not so noticeable that he's got someone on Boston.
Not seeing Rozanov is not an option, so instead Shane picks out a few other cities to regularly go out by himself in. He'll go for a long walk, maybe sit down somewhere for a drink, and then catch a taxi back to the hotel an appropriate amount of time later. It's honestly pretty nice, unwinding by himself in this way, and now disappearing after games is not a thing specific to Boston! It's just another strange Hollander quirk!
Unfortunately, he fails to account for the guys on the team jumping on the most obvious explanation for all these disappearances, which is that Shane now has a girl in every port.
Word about this starts to spread quick, because it is so out of character for Shane, and pretty soon half the league is under the impression that he's some secret playboy.
Written for the May 2026 round of @steddiemicrofic
Prompt: door, 599 words
Rated: T
Tags: Post-S4; Near-death experiences; Angels; Afterlife; Eddie Munson is a horny shit; Crack and humor
Eddie never thought about life after death. He had more important things to think about. His next campaign. His music. Steve Harrington’s tiny gym shorts.
Now, walking through fluffy clouds towards a giant pair of golden doors, he thinks it's all kind of cliché. Everything is basked in golden light. There's harps in the distance. He'd be tempted to call it kitchy - except, after the hellscape he came from, he won't complain.
His clothes are gone. After the number those bats did on him, they were probably beyond salvaging. He just wishes that they would've given him anything other than the drapey bedsheet he's wearing. He looks like he just stumbled his way out of a college frat party.
He hopes Steve takes good care of his vest.
He hopes Henderson is okay.
He hopes they made that asshole pay.
He's almost at the gates. There's an official-looking desk in front of them. Behind the desk, going through a pile of papers is …
“Harrington?”
Steve looks up.
“Pardon?”
Eddie gawks.
The features are the same, from the jaw and nose right up to the moles on the guy's neck. His hair is lighter, though. More blond than brown.
Also, Eddie believes Steve didn't have a giant pair of wings when he last saw him.
“Uh … sorry,” he mutters. “Thought you were … You look like someone I know.”
“No problem,” the angel drawls, going back to his papers. “Welcome to the Pearly Gates. Edward Munson?”
Eddie nods.
“Perfect. Let's see. Twenty-one years old, from Hawkins, Indiana. Cause of death … What? Demon bats?”
“Long story.” Eddie tries stuffing his hands in his pockets, except he's still wearing the toga. “So… this is really it, huh? I'm in heaven?”
“Not quite yet. We gotta review your file first.”
Shit.
“Guess this is where I fess up about the satanic board games, huh?”
The angel gives him a look. “We don't care about your hobbies.”
Eddie stares. “Uh … the drug dealing?”
The angel shuffles his papers. “Mediocre weed and ketamine in a lunchbox. Quite the drug overlord, weren't you?”
Eddie flushes. “The metal music, then?”
The angel lights up. “Oh, that's right, you play guitar. Bonzo and some of the guys are looking to start a band, they could use someone like you.”
“Bonzo?” Eddie sputters. “Of Led Zep?”
“You know any other Bonzos?” The angel grins. The doors start swinging open.
“Are you kidding me?” Eddie squeals. “Next thing, you're gonna tell me I can have all the gay sex I want!”
“Oh,” says the angel.
“What?” Eddie freezes. “Wait. That's a problem now?”
“It's not.” The angel looks vaguely uncomfortable. “Just … We're pure, spiritual beings. We don't exactly have … the equipment.”
He gestures at the hem of Eddie's toga. Hand trembling with dread, Eddie lifts it and takes a peek.
