Chapter Text
Shane
Shane knew this was a bad idea.
He knew that this was a bad idea when he googled the website.
He knew it was a bad idea when he submitted a photo of his driver’s license to prove his age and identity.
And right now, he knew it was a bad idea as his finger moved the cursor to hover over the blue “sign-up” button.
It was a last-ditch effort to make the account. He was initially offered a four-year full-ride scholarship when he was recruited out of high school, but a brutal rotator cuff injury ended his short time on the hockey team, and the school quickly informed him that he would receive only partial financial aid from that point forward. The last remaining savings he had managed to accumulate had been used for this semester's payment, which meant that after this point, he was completely on his own.
Shane had tried every option he could think of to make enough money for the future financial strain. He searched Facebook for nanny jobs and quickly found out almost nobody was interested in a male nanny who has class every day of the week. He applied for hundreds of jobs on Indeed, which only resulted in an increase in spam calls, and visited each on-campus restaurant to see if they were hiring. After being rejected at the last restaurant, a sticky late-night breakfast diner that served only as a spot for roommates to wait in while their suite partner got laid, he had arrived at Rose’s front door with a bottle of cheap wine and eyes full of tears.
After explaining the situation to Rose, she did her best to run through all of his potential options while periodically refilling their glasses. At the end of the bottle, Rose had uttered one fateful sentence that had led Shane to where he was today.
“You could start an OnlyFans?”
She was joking, of course; she followed the sentence up by giggling softly as she walked to the bathroom chattering about how she would also sell feet pics to help him reach his goal, but the thought had wormed its way into Shane’s brain the minute she said it, and later that night, after Ubering back to his apartment, he found himself sitting in his dark room typing out a string of questions.
“How to start an OnlyFans”
“Can guys do OnlyFans?”
“Is OnlyFans free to join?”
Shane quickly realized, after a few minutes of browsing, that this endeavor would require some serious planning. He had to figure out what kind of content he wanted to produce, how much he wanted to charge, and how exactly to promote an account he wanted nobody in his life to know about. There was one thing Shane was certain about: the account absolutely could not include his face or any information that might reveal his identity. He planned to start applying to medical school in the near future and knew no school would accept someone whose OnlyFans account was the top result when googling “Shane Hollander”.
As he waited for his age verification to be completed, he realized another feeling besides anxiety and worry had wormed its way into the pit of his stomach. Excitement. He was used to having secrets, parts of his life that he kept close to his chest in fear of how others would react, but this secret felt… fun? He had been in the closet the first two years of college, only having very brief hookups that usually left him unsatisfied both physically and emotionally. After meeting Rose, that had slowly begun to change. Shane never came out to her, but it was clear she somehow knew from the moment they had begun chatting in their shared Chemistry class. One night during a study session that had turned into an interrogation, she convinced Shane to set up accounts on a few dating apps.
“Shane, seriously, when is the last time you went on an actual date? This is college; we’re supposed to be experimenting”. She waggled her eyebrows at him from across the table they were sitting at.
Shane blushed, ducking his head behind the laptop screen. “Rose, it’s really not a big deal. I’m too busy with work and school to want to do anything besides go to the gym and come home at night”.
Rose rolled her eyes. “You put all that work into that body of yours and don’t let anyone appreciate it. I don’t get it.”
Shane shrugged and brushed off the teasing comments like he always did. Rose meant no harm, and he knew she only wanted the best for him. In truth, Shane knew he could be doing better in the romance section of his life. He did want more, wanted someone to connect with, but deep down he had resigned himself to the fact that the anxious premed student who doesn’t like partying, is in bed by 10:30 every night, and has had a total of three hookups didn’t seem like anyone’s type.
He blinked a few times, not realizing how far he had drifted into his own mind when he heard an email notification come from his laptop. He opened the new mail in his inbox and inhaled sharply, reading the text. He had actually done it. His name was now forever linked in a database to an OnlyFans account. He felt his heart speed up as he considered the implications.
Up until this point, this had just been some silly idea, steps to be completed. But now there was an email in his inbox telling him he could upload his bank account details and start collecting subscribers as he posted lewd photos of himself. Was he actually going to do this? Let creepy old men online ogle him for 20$ a month so he could hopefully make enough money for tuition?
Shane pushed the computer off of his lap and pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them tightly as he tried to slow his breathing. He knew he should talk about this with someone; he could pick up his phone right now and text Rose or Hayden. Tell them all about his insane idea to set up an OnlyFans and have a good laugh about it. Something in his body wouldn’t let him do this, though. Just like last year, when he hadn’t had the heart to tell his parents that after his Freshman year injury, the school had given him 1 year of tuition before cutting off the scholarship. He bit his bottom lip nervously, scrunching his nose to push the glasses further up the bridge of his nose as he reached over to grab the computer and once again read the email.
He had no money, a full course schedule, and future medical school applications that he knew would be costly. He would run the account just long enough to earn the money he needed, then permanently deactivate it. Nobody would ever find out he was behind it, and he wouldn’t have to take out any loans to survive. He blew out a long, deep breath, his brain already spinning as it tried to figure out what his first post should be.
Shane was starting an OnlyFans.
Ilya
Banging. Loud, obnoxious, repetitive banging. In the first few moments after Ilya slipped back into consciousness, he couldn’t tell if it was just his head, fighting against the alcohol from last night, or if it was actually coming from somewhere in the room. His arm flopped over lazily, grateful to find that the girl from last night had evidently snuck out earlier this morning.
“Rozanov! Get your Russian ass out of bed. We need to clean this place!” An annoyingly familiar voice belted, followed by more banging.
Ilya groaned out loud at the intrusion and pulled himself out of the bed, wobbling his way to the door, which he yanked open just as Cliff was about to start another round of pounding. Their eyes locked and Cliff’s face spread into a goofy smile.
“Come on, Pres, we gotta get this place back in order before tonight”.
Ilya did not return the smile. “Cliff, it is nine a.m.; nobody cares if frat is messy. It is frat.”
This did not deter Cliff as much as Ilya had hoped; in fact, Cliff annoyingly remained one of the few people in their frat who was not bothered by the predictably bad mood Ilya was always in when woken up before ten on a weekend.
Cliff shook his head at the comment. “No, that’s not true; you know the ladies prefer a clean house”. It took Ilya a moment too long to notice that Cliff had successfully wedged himself into the doorway, making it impossible to close the door. Ilya rolled his eyes. “Fine, I will be down in five minutes. Leave my room now.”
Again, Cliff shook his head. “You and I both know if I let you out of my sight, you are going straight back to bed. Put on some shorts and, at the very least, come delegate tasks to pledges.”
Ilya stared back at Cliff, his arms crossed tightly over his bare chest. Most people at this point would have backed off. Accepted the fact that this was a lost cause and let Ilya return to what was a very peaceful slumber. But of course Cliff was not like most people and knew that Ilya was mostly all bark and no bite.
After an exceptionally awkward amount of time, Ilya let out a huff of exasperation, bending to his side to pick up a discarded pair of basketball shorts off the floor. After dramatically pulling them up to hang loosely across his waist, he threw his hands up dramatically to the side in Cliff’s direction.
“I will assign task. Fine, whatever, let’s go.” He pushed past Cliff, making sure he shoulder-checked him on the way out. Cliff, impossible to get a rise out of, chuckled and followed loyally behind as Ilya made his way downstairs.
The living area was crawling with Freshman pledges, all eagerly awaiting some mundane task to be assigned in hopes of being rewarded with another night of partying. All of the older brothers, who were close with Ilya, always insisted to them that he was secretly a big softie at heart and would never force a pledge to do anything humiliating or dangerous, but the imposing Russian accent and towering frame left most unconvinced and willing to do his bidding.
Ilya shuffled his bare feet across the wooden floor, cringing at the sticky feeling until he reached their makeshift stage. Students who had been filtering from room to room gradually turned their attention towards the slouching statue of a man.
“Cliff says you all must clean house. If house is clean when I wake back up...” he paused as he contemplated the best reward for his pledges and brothers. He closed his eyes and relaxed back onto the heels of his feet. Sleep was so close it was taunting him; he just needed to figure out a reward.
“Roz!” A brave senior yelled from the corner of the room, snapping Ilya out of his peace.
“I was thinking!” he whined back in response before straightening himself out again. The crowd of boys began a drumroll, slapping their hands against anything they could find to try and pry an answer out of Ilya.
“Fine, Fine! If house is clean when I wake up, and someone who is of legal drinking age orders alcohol from the liquor store. I will send out flyer for party tonight” The crowd waited for the final statement with bated breath, the important part. “and everyone is invited.” The boys erupted into loud whoops and cheers, which amused Ilya, as this was always the reward for any task completed within the frat. He grinned fondly at the rowdy crowd and raised a hand in acceptance of their praise. As silly as the concept of a fraternity was to Ilya when he had arrived in Boston for school, he had quickly settled into the routine. Embracing it so much that he was unanimously elected president at the beginning of this year.
As far as he was concerned, his work here was done, and it was time to return to the warm embrace of his now empty bed. Stepping down off the stage and noticing nobody had moved, he huffed in exasperation.
“Go! Clean things! Tell people about party!”
The words set everyone in motion; people began skittering from room to room, Cliff was assigning more specific tasks to pledges, and the house was buzzing with anticipation. Ilya knew he could get a few more hours of peace before being needed for party arrangements, and he planned to use every second of that.