Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
summary: you and cameron had a fling at the wedding of mutual friends – just a matter of a couple exciting days that promised a lot. he never called you back. you meet again years later.
cw: spoilers for the movie, minor elements from the book, wedding hookups, banter, sarcasm 1v1, fluff, kissing, alcohol consumption, loserboy cameron, implied intercourse, angst
a/n: scruffy avoidant cameron ily. just in case, for people who have only seen the movie, elizabeth and brad are cameron’s friends that video call him to drop the band because they’re having a baby. they’re cameron’s childhood best friends in the book and I wanted to clarify since the movie barely mentions them (and I don’t know if their names are even mentioned lmao?) fic is titled after the song breaking the girl by red hot chili peppers (the lyrics strangely fit idk.)
Cameron despises not succeeding in something he thought he could do.
Especially when it’s something that seems stupidly simple.
He’s good with his hands. Good at figuring things out, at making them work.
If something breaks, he fixes it, and if something needs building, lifting, carrying, replacing, then he can do it without thinking twice.
Tova always says he got the determination and stubbornness from his father.
But he cannot, no matter how many times he has tried, replicate her favorite lemon cake in town.
There’s always something off about it. The texture, the softness it’s supposed to have, the overall taste of it. The icing usually saves it and makes it decent, but it’s nowhere as close as the original thing.
So sometimes, the best you can do about it is call it quits and let it go – or, he can drive her to the place that knows how to make them.
He’s only been there twice, getting dragged as a last stop to errands, considered an earned treat.
He couldn’t have ever imagined the third time to go this way – he recognizes you at first glance.
And it’s strange because it’s been two or three years since Brad and Elizabeth’s wedding and it’s a whole other context and yet, you look just the same.
He almost can’t believe it, wonders why you're even here, then faintly remembers you mentioning living a couple hours away from Seattle.
When their turn comes at the counter, you smile enthusiastically at Tova while she places her order, turning to him asking for his own with what he guesses is your customer friendly smile – because there is no way you would genuinely smile at him this way after how he had treated you.
You don’t do anything that makes it clear you remember him, but deep down, Cameron knows. Because there’s still the way you’re avoiding his gaze while focusing on Tova, and even though she’s been here way more often than he has, he feels it, feels the distance you’re trying to put.
Tova leads him to her usual spot once their order is placed, settling in the booth, and Cameron excuses himself before he walks up to the counter again as soon as there is no customer queue anymore and he’s the only one there.
He picks up a few napkins to justify why he’s standing there and leans towards you when you don’t look up at him.
“So… are you gonna pretend not to recognize me” his fingers drum against the glass display containing the pastries, and you irritatedly gaze up to him knowing damn well you will be the one wiping off his fingerprints.
“I’m trying to remain professional” you mutter flatly, immediately looking away as you box someone’s order, your expression unreadable. It’s almost impressive how effortlessly you’re pretending he means absolutely nothing to you, but again, he probably earned it.
“Oh. Alright” Cameron nods, waiting before he speaks again. “Well ignoring a customer isn’t very professional, I guess”
You shrug lightly, indifferently. “Better than to acknowledge said customer and insult them, I guess” you gaze back at him, a tight, mocking smile over your face that disappears as soon as you focus back on your task.
Cameron adjusts his position onto his feet, lightly gesturing at his sides. “Come on,”
You sigh. “Cameron, I don’t know why I should pretend to want to be nice to you. You wanted us to be strangers. You wanted my number, I gave it to you and you never contacted me again,”
He chuckles lightly, rubbing at his jaw. His guilt resurfaces overwhelmingly and his first instinct is defensiveness. “Yeah, well, sorry I was never desperate enough to”
He regrets his words the second they leave his mouth. You glance up at him for a second, a cold stare in your eyes before you walk away to the coffee machine.
“You could have gotten my contact through Elizabeth” Cameron adds, trying to bury his rude previous comment. “If you actually wanted to”
You let out a sharp scoff. “You've got some nerve” you accuse, leaving the counter space to serve a table their order. Cameron waits, watching his shoes and suddenly feeling very aware of himself, of the fact he’s wearing an old hoodie and torn up jeans when the last time you’d seen him he had been in a suit, hair combed back in a fanciness he barely ever saw himself in.
He’s still standing there when you come back, hands buried in his jeans pockets like he won’t drop the case.
You sigh and finally take a good look at him for the first time since he stepped foot inside the bakery. He grins expectantly, the exact same way he did when he had looked at you across the dance floor after midnight, sleeves rolled to his elbows revealing the tattoos on his arms, tie hanging loose when he asked you if you wanted to get some fresh air.
You hate that it does something to you.
His eyebrows lift as he waits for you to say something, expecting anything now to dig his grave further into the ground. “What are you even doing here?” you eventually ask, annoyance and impatience growing obvious in your tone.
“Uh, I live here now,” he chuckles. “That's my grandmother.” he notes, pointing back to Tova, who’s reading the newspaper back at their table, completely unaware of the situation at the counter.
You glance at the sweet regular you’ve come to appreciate, and frown softly. “No way you’re related to someone that nice.”
He lets out a small frustrated sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. Would you wanna hang out again so we can… y’know, start over?”
You huff out a laugh. “Why? Are you in heat?”
He glances around like he’s worried you could have talked loud enough for anyone to hear, eyebrows knitted together when he turns back to you like he’s begging you to keep it down. “Fu– okay, I’m sorry, okay?”
He knows he fucked up. He’s an asshole sometimes – at least he acknowledges it. But the thing is, when he does, he always tries to fix it. And it’s a serious case because you haven’t actually done anything to deserve the way he treated you.
“Yeah, okay,” you murmur monotonely, exclusively focusing on preparing his order. Your hands move mechanically, and Cameron doesn’t really know what to say anymore to let you know he means it when he apologizes.
“I can stay here for hours repeating it if it’ll make you believe it eventually.” he declares, tone half serious.
“I don’t care. My shift is almost over, I’m going home Cameron.” you say, giving him the same customer service smile you gave him earlier as you hand him his plate, though it’s obviously bitter and sarcastic this time.
—
It might have been stupid to think you actually had something special going on – because it had really only been a wedding fling, after all, even if it led you to think otherwise at some point.
Cameron had been a charming best man.
It had been obvious suits weren’t his thing, and it was part of what made it attractive. He had spent the entire reception tugging at the collar of his suit like it was trying to strangle him, his cocktail glass permanently in hand while he subtly flirted with you in between best man duties. It felt accidental every time he smiled at you, like he couldn’t help it. You bumped into each other a scary number of times throughout the day, which led you to talk, talk and talk. About anything and everything, about obviously Brad and Elizabeth and how you’d been a college friend of hers, about deep subjects that made it feel like you’d known each other forever.
And you should have known it would be a curse, because Cameron hadn’t been just an attractive best man.
He was easy to be around in a way that stuck with you; you could talk to him for hours without noticing time passing, he listened when you spoke, remembered small details, looked at you like your thoughts genuinely interested him. He was smart and knew a lot of things about a lot of different subjects – he was captivating in a way that wasn’t just caused by your attraction towards him.
By midnight, people were drunk enough that nobody really paid attention to the two of you disappearing, to the way you were on each other the moment you found yourselves alone in a corner.
You could still clearly remember the way he kissed like he was starving for it, the way he had laughed against your mouth afterward when you accused him of ruining weddings for you forever.
You’d barely made it through the hotel room door before he kissed you again, hands already sliding beneath your dress while you laughed breathlessly against his mouth. You'd teased him about being eager, and he asked you if you could even blame him.
And somehow, the next day had made it worse.
Not because he had left in the middle of the night – the whole opposite, because he was still there in the morning and had even pulled you back against him when you tried getting up too early, still very much half asleep, voice rough with exhaustion and a light hangover when he’d asked you to stay five more minutes in a quiet mutter.
Those five borrowed minutes had turned into another hour of sleep, and another conversation when you woke up, and another round of sex.
He hadn’t acted distant afterward, hadn’t turned awkward or detached the way men usually would after one night stands.
And the whole wedding thing didn't stop there; you had to gather for the brunch celebration.
You both tried your best to behave, really, but it didn’t help that it had been a curious coincidence when you happened to get assigned to sit next to one another at the brunch table – his hand had rested against your thigh beneath the tablecloth while he talked and laughed with his friends like it was the most casual thing in the world, and he had leaned in closer once everyone was busy watching the newly wed couple to jokingly accuse you of “distracting the shit out of him.”
You had ended up sneaking away a few times throughout the day like teenagers incapable of keeping their hands off each other.
The end of the day had felt weird, like you knew what dawned on you but didn’t want to face it or talk about it, like you knew it wasn’t goodbye and you would see each other again despite the distance from California to Washington. Cameron had asked for your number like he was sure to text you soon, and you had given it to him without even asking for his, imagining he would be in your contacts the next day anyway.
He never was.
You never got any text, never heard from him again, he never meant it to be anything more; you had just been a fun weekend fling for him, a matter of a couple of days for his shot of adrenaline, someone to fuck to stave off his sexual frustration.
He had never made you any promise, so you felt stupid to have hoped there would be any other ending to this, but it hurt because you genuinely liked him and thought he felt just the same.
—
There’s a text on your phone that evening when you come back from the shower. An unknown ID that your phone marks as probable spam. The text reads,
hey, it’s cameron. sorry about earlier but I insisted because I meant it. I’m sorry
You could ignore him. Could block his number and mark it as spam the way your phone tried to warn you.
Could never see him again the way he wanted it to be until today.
But if he’s as stubborn as Elizabeth told you when she first introduced you to him at the wedding, then he will probably come back to the bakery to prove his point, and you don’t want to put up a fight in your workplace. Again.
Your fingers hover over the keyboard, and you send in your text as soon as you’re done typing it in.
you’re three years late on that text.
His typing bubbles show up on the chat, then disappear. It takes a few seconds before they come back and his message follows.
I know. I was still an immature jerk back then
You let out a scoff alone in your living room and rub a hand over your mouth before you type in your response.
you’re supposed to be any different now?
He answers immediately.
I try.
You sink back into the cushions of your couch, throat tightening uncomfortably. He starts typing again and you’re glad because you have no idea what to text back next.
I really liked you
I know I didn’t act like it but please let me make up for it.
Maybe he means it. Maybe he’s sincere.
You can’t be sure if you don’t try.
—
You set on meeting at the bar down the road to where you work the next day. Cameron said he played music there sometimes, and you hated that it was one more attractive thing about him.
You sit at a table and check your phone for the hour every other minute while you wait for him, promising yourself that if he’s even only five minutes late you would leave – it feels like you have to wait forever because you came early but he’s actually on time, peeling himself of his jacket before he asks for your pick on the drinks and goes to the bar counter paying for them, telling you he owes you that when you thank him for it.
“Thank you for accepting to come” he says as he places your drink in front of you. You watch him sit back on the chair across you, realizing maybe you’ve been too harsh on him.
“Sure. I’ve been kinda rude to you. Sorry” you’re angry for a good reason, but in reflection, you’ve really known him for two days only, three years ago, and he never really owed you anything, not more than you did.
“That’s alright” he shrugs dismissively. “I wasn’t exactly an angel.”
You pinch your lips in an awkward smile, and he inhales like he’s about to speak again, but nothing follows. “What?” you frown, overtaken by the frustration of not knowing what’s on his mind.
“No, it’s–” he adjusts his position over his seat. “I can explain why I never texted you back. It won’t justify anything but I can be honest about it.”
You take a sip of your drink, anticipating the blow and bracing for impact. You’re about to get answers, and even if they’re bad, at least you will get closure on this.
Cameron runs a hand over his jaw, arms crossing over the table before he speaks.
“I went back home and knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it serious or anything with the distance.” he starts. “I didn’t want to give you false hopes so I didn’t even try. I didn’t want to hurt you, but at the time, I think it was more about myself” he admits, voice lowering at the end of his sentence like a guilty confession. “And my inability to be mature” a quiet scoff escapes you. “I know, I did hurt you anyway.” he grants, lips pinching in a weak smile that conveys his guilt. He looks sincere, you’ll give him that. Truthfully, he has from the start but you might have been blinded by anger to even acknowledge it.
“I can’t say it doesn’t make sense” you admit. Cameron gives you a small smile and leans back against his chair.
“I’m trying to be better, really. And I didn’t lie. I liked you” he nods. “I didn’t just… do it because I wanted to get laid or something”
“You seem like the type”
“I’m not.” he shakes his head. “Not anymore. I’ve never really been” he corrects before sipping from his bottle of beer.
“Maybe I was” you joke, trying to lift the mood now.
It draws a genuine laugh from him, and suddenly, the tension lifts now that you’ve been honest with each other.
“Yeah?” he asks, the hint of a grin growing over his face.
“I’m just saying,” you shrug lightly. “Maybe I saw an attractive guy at a wedding and decided to take advantage of the situation,” you grin.
“Ouh, take advantage?” he scoffs. You nod as you take another sip of your drink, and Cameron stares at you, squinting slightly. “You're talking about me like I was some helpless victim”
“Weren't you? You looked like you borrowed someone else’s skin in that suit.” you shrug, huffing out a laugh. “I get it now that I know how you dress on a regular basis,” you say glancing at the band tshirt and flannel he's wearing.
“I looked handsome and you know it.”
You laugh despite yourself. “Oh, there it is.”
He frowns, a chuckle leaving his mouth. “There is what?”
“Your ego.”
“You did say I was attractive, so,” he teases, hiding his smirk by taking another sip of his beer.
“Oh my god,” you groan.
“What?” he grins, shrugging, trying to act innocent.
“You're forty seconds into being forgiven and you’re already unbearable.”
The evening flies by faster than you had imagined it would – the atmosphere is lighter and you talk like there’s no history, no resentment anymore, and the conversation flows just the way it did back then at the wedding.
Cameron tells you how and why he’s here in Washington now, explains his whole search for family, how he learned about himself and matured as a person while looking for the father he never knew, and how he instead found his grandmother completely unpromptedly, because of an octopus. You think he’s kidding when he tells you at first, but the look on his face as he explains is dead serious and borderline emotional.
He insists on paying for all your drinks despite you telling him he doesn’t need to because he’s forgiven now, and here you realize he really is as stubborn as Elizabeth described it.
You’re not even drunk, just tipsy by the time you leave the bar giggling at one of Cameron’s witty comments, but probably not sober enough to drive safely, a pleasant haze clinging to you.
Cameron follows when you tell him you only live a couple blocks away, already getting moving to walk you home, and in a matter of less than ten minutes, you’re standing at the porch of your house, trying not to laugh too loud at what he says to not wake your neighbors up.
Cameron turns to you when his own laughter dies down, hands buried in the pockets of his jackets, watching as you’re trying to grab your house keys from your own jacket, lightly clearing his throat before he speaks. “So, is there any chance you’ll accept to ever see me again or…”
You glance back up at him, see the slight grin on his face, but by his tone, you know he’s serious and trying to hide it and his nervousness behind his pretended confidence. It brings you back and something squeezes at the pit of your stomach because here you are again, seeing the same man he was back then at the wedding.
You huff out a soft laugh and give up looking for your keys for the moment. “You’re annoying, because I was doing just fine being angry at you” you declare half heartedly, arms crossing as you lean back against your closed door.
He snorts a small laugh before stepping closer. “I saw that.”
You hum in false reflection. “But I guess I just found out you're different from the ghosting asshole I pictured those past years” you shrug at him, eyebrows rising. “Less of a coward. Among other things.”
“Cool” he chuckles, face brightening. “I've never been told I'm not a coward”
“Uh, I didn't exactly say you weren't.” you grimace, correcting him.
You smile and he mirrors it, a genuine affection drawn over his face.
You should probably say goodbye, get inside your house, go to sleep and text him tomorrow.
Instead of any of this, you take a step towards him and both of your hands grab at the collar of his jacket to pull him to you into a kiss. The surprise lasts less than a second, just enough for Cameron to make a soft sound against your mouth before he kisses you back, pushing you back against the door gently, nothing like the reckless urgency of the wedding like there was no tomorrow. There is now. He wants it to be.
He braces himself anchoring a hand at the door when he almost trips over your feet, and you giggle into the kiss before you pull back, still clutching his jacket. “Hm, I’d say you’ve earned another chance,”
“Yeah?” he asks, his cocky grin slowly coming back.
You softly swat him with the back of your hand. “Shut up before I change by mind”
He's the one to cup your cheek and kiss you again, dissolving the grin over his face. His gaze follows when you bite onto your bottom lip when you pull away from each other, fetching the keys to your house before you point back at the door behind you. “You could come inside and we could have a couple more drinks”
He inhales in reflection, hands digging into his pockets again, and he shrugs, pinching his lips into a grimace.
“Man, I don’t know, I feel like you’re definitely taking advantage of the situation”
given the current climate this pride especially i feel i must mention that i love my trans friends, i stand with trans people in the fight against transphobic legislation and those who would enforce it, and this blog is not a good place for you to be if you do not vibe with that
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Its so important to remember that when Shane says "Ilya noooo, Ilya ewww, what the fuck Ilya" that this is him giggling and kicking his feet. The man is not a killjoy he just loves being chased.
Ilya finds an odd picture of Shane in a photo album at one point. He's maybe three, he's sitting on the massive purple sofa that Ilya has discovered the Hollanders owned when Shane was born. He's frowning, red-cheeked and he's got a strange plastic case on his thumb.
"Yuna," he says, shifting his elbows on the table to point at it. "What is this on his hand? Was broken?"
Shane's head snaps up from across the table, where he's pretending that Photo Album Time is very boring to him and not worth paying attention to. He hasn't scrolled on the article he's pretending to read for over five minutes.
"I never broke a bone as a kid," he says, brows furrowed. "Not until U13, when that fucking kid from Guelph--"
Yuna and Shane both inhale quickly through their noses in what Ilya has learned to recognize as a moderative measure, lest they start yelling about something that everyone else on Earth has forgotten about.
"No," Yuna says, once her face looks a little less intense. "No, it wasn't broken. It was this...contraption that the dentist gave us to correct his thumb-sucking. He was so mad about it, we only put it on him a few times."
"Oh, Jesus," Shane mutters, eyes going back to his phone.
"Aw," Ilya says. "Poor baby Shane." He taps his finger against one little red cheek and laughs. "You really do look so mad, sweetheart. How did you make him stop?"
"Hmm...you know, I don't remember," Yuna sighs, tilting her head. "I guess he just stopped by himself eventually. Do you remember, Shane?"
"No," Shane says, shortly.
"Of course, that didn't get rid of the oral fixation," Yuna sighs, adjusting her reading glasses as she flips the page. "The things you used to chew on, Shane. Pens and straws and--"
"Mom," Shane snaps, while Ilya vibrates beside him. "Can we not?"
"I was afraid to give him popsicles because I thought he would gnaw on the sticks until he got a splinter in his stomach."
"Mom!"
"Well, honey, it's true! And you did outgrow it eventually, so it's not as if you have to be embarrassed."
"Mm. Excuse me." Ilya stands from the table and sweeps out onto the back porch, though the sliding door does nothing to prevent the sound of his guffaws from floating back into the kitchen.
"You know," Yuna says, "I'm just going to assume that this is some kind of language barrier thing--"
ilya responds to ig q&a questions that say ‘whats it like to be a fucking f*ggot?’ with a picture of shane in a backwards cap and a white tshirt casually lifting the hem to wipe his mouth with one hand so his abs are exposed while he’s holding ilyas hand with the other, with the text ‘VERY AWESOME 😍👍’
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Post TLG Shane and Ilya have a huge fight, and Shane goes to the guest bedroom to sleep. He’s lying in bed, wide awake, when the door flies open and Ilya walks in. He silently climbs into bed, back to Shane. Shane turns to look at Ilya’s back but doesn’t say anything. He just gets out of bed with a huff and goes back to their room. If Ilya wants the guest bedroom, he can have it. Shane climbs into their bed and starts to situate himself when Ilya comes into the bedroom and gets into bed. Shane rolls his eyes, hops out of bed and goes to the couch. He’s pulling the blanket around himself when Ilya enters the room and sits on the other end of the couch. He grabs a blanket and puts it on himself.
“What is your problem?” Shane asks. “I gave up our bedroom and the guest room and now you’re here.”
“We sleep in same place no matter what.” Ilya says as he swings his legs into the couch. “So stay or I follow you around home.” His feet touch Shane’s but Shane pulls his legs away from Ilya.
“Fine, goodnight.” Shane curls up on the couch to sleep. He isn’t sure how much time has passed but he can tell Ilya is asleep by his breathing. Shane sits up and just stares at Ilya for a while before carefully getting off the couch. He goes over to Ilya and picks him up, carrying him to the bedroom. “Wha?”
“You can’t sleep on the couch. It’s not good for your back.” Shane explains as he lays Ilya on the bed.
“Do not go to couch.”
“I’m not.” Shane climbs into bed beside Ilya. He presses a kiss to Ilya’s temple. “Goodnight. Love you.”
“If I say sorry, do I get proper kiss and proper I love you.”
Shane kisses Ilya on the lips. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
As soon as Shane realized he was gay, that mf Locked In. He said, we need to get this relationship Sorted, hired a stylist, and showed up to All Stars weekend ready to lock down the best dicking he had ever gotten in his life. And it worked.
I was just thinking about that scene during the Shane Rose era, when Ilya asks Connor to go out and Ilya goes, “We’re in Montreal, we find a fucking club.” And it hits a little differently when you realize Ilya had always been there with Shane whenever they were in Montreal. Without him, Ilya genuinely didn’t know a single club, a single spot, or even where to go.
It’s such a small moment, but somehow it says everything about how much of Montreal was tied to Shane for him.
i'm not joking when i say ilya admitting to shane that he looked up compatible was one of the bravest things ever. shane also asking for ilya's room number was so brave too. i love them
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
