#hatesex

hollis × fem!reader brat vs brat A/N: this is NOT enemies-to-lovers, this is enemies-to-enemies-who-hate-fuck. cw: cursing, intense degradation both ways, public humiliation, leaked nudes, visible boners on camera, choking mentions, hate-sex

### THE ANNOUNCEMENT roman drops the official tour graphic. your name sits right under boyliife: “special guest / vibe curator / chaos agent”

the internet explodes: “THE PEOPLE’S PRINCESS IS COMING ON TOUR WITH BOYLIIFE???” hollis reposts with the caption: “great. now i have to deal with this bitch for 3 months.”

you quote tweet instantly: “don’t worry @2hollis i’ll bring noise-canceling headphones so i don’t have to hear your trash mixes ♡”

the war is public before the first bus even rolls.

### PARIS – DAY 1 You step off the bus in micro prada sunglasses and a latex mini skirt that should be illegal. The entire crew screams your name. Fans outside the gate lose their minds.

Hollis walks past you like you’re a lamppost.

you (sunshine voice): “morning, sunshine. love the resting bitch face, really selling the brand.”

hollis (not looking): “go be beloved somewhere else, princess.”

you: “aw, someone’s mad the fans like me more than his last single.”

He finally turns. Eyes pitch black.

hollis: “keep talking shit and see how fast i kick you off this tour.”

You step into his space, voice sugar-sweet poison.

you: “try it, baby. i dare you.”

nate from ten feet away, already eating popcorn: “i’m getting popcorn this is better than the superbowl.”

### FIRST SOLD-OUT SHOW You’re side-stage in the tiniest black lace top known to man, screaming every lyric, stealing the entire crowd like it’s your show.

Hollis keeps glancing over mid-performance. He fucks up his own lyrics twice.

After the show he corners you backstage, still sweaty, veins popping, breathing like he ran a mile.

hollis: “you trying to ruin my set, you little brat?”

you (slow smile): “no baby, i’m trying to remind the crowd who they actually came for.”

He steps closer, voice lethal.

hollis: “keep acting like you run shit and i’ll bend you over the amp right now, sweetheart.”

you (tilt your head): “i’d love to see you try, control freak.”

His hand twitches like he’s two seconds from grabbing your throat. You’re both breathing hard, hating how bad you want it.

nate walks in, sees the standoff, backs out slowly without a word.

### COPENHAGEN – backstage hallway You’re doing a fit check tiktok. Hollis walks past, shoulder-checks you so hard you almost drop your phone.

you: “jesus, watch where you’re going, daddy issues.”

hollis: “watch where you’re standing, attention whore.”

you: “i’d rather die than take directions from someone whose last hook sounds like a dying cat getting fucked by a lawnmower.”

He grabs your phone, holds it above his head.

hollis: “say sorry.”

you: “sorry your dick’s smaller than your career prospects.”

He drops the phone straight into a random crew guy’s coffee.

### BERLIN – hotel breakfast You’re eating cereal with the boys. Hollis sits down across from you like it’s personal.

you: “table’s full, go sit with your personality.”

hollis: “i would, but it’s currently busy being more interesting than you.”

roman (exhausted): “can y’all just try to get along? for two fucking seconds?”

you & hollis in perfect unison: “no.”

### AMSTERDAM – the unforgivable sin You change the final 15 seconds of his set closer to a 2019 soundcloud demo he made when he was 15. absolute garbage. The entire crowd hears it. The internet loses its mind laughing.

Backstage, Hollis is vibrating with rage.

That night, while you’re asleep on the bus, he posts to his 8-million-follower close friends: blurry, grainy nude from 2019 — you barely legal, mirror pic you sent an ex you completely forgot existed. caption: “since she wants to play dirty, here’s a throwback of the people’s princess before she discovered filters ♡”

You wake up to 47,000 new followers and your phone exploding.

You storm to the back lounge at 130 decibels.

you: “you leaked a nude of me when i was seventeen, you disgusting fucking creep?”

hollis (smirking): “just 18, actually. calm down.”

you: “i will end your bloodline.”

You grab his phone, AirDrop the worst photo of him asleep drooling (2023) to every crew member with the caption “small dick energy personified.”

Roman physically separates you before homicide occurs.

### MILAN – group interview Tiny couch. Forced to sit next to each other.

interviewer: “you two have insane chemistry online, what’s it like on tour?”

both of you fake-smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

you: “he’s… passionate.”

hollis: “she’s… tolerable on good days.”

They ask about the leaked nude drama.

you (sugary): “ancient history. we’ve moved on.”

hollis (under breath, mic catches it): “moved on to riding my last nerve.”

Interview ends. You stand, lean down to his ear, loud enough for the boom mic:

you: “keep pretending you hate me while you’re hard in those sweats, you pathetic little bitch.”

You walk away.

Camera zooms.

Grey sweats. Very, very obviously hard.

nate from across the room zooms in and texts the gc: “bro is bricked up on camera i’m deceased”

Hollis spends the rest of the day with a hoodie tied around his waist like a middle-schooler.

### BARCELONA – rooftop, 4 a.m. You’re smoking with conceal. Hollis storms up.

hollis: “you told the opener i cry after sex?”

you: “i said you cry during sex. there’s a difference.”

He grabs your wrist, drags you away from everyone.

hollis: “i fucking hate you.”

you: “feeling’s mutual, you walking venereal disease.”

He shoves you against the wall.

hollis: “one day i’m gonna fuck that attitude right out of you until you’re begging.”

you: “one day i’m gonna ride your face until you’re crying for air, then i’ll leave you hard and walk away. we’ll see who begs first.”

You’re both breathing like you ran a marathon. He’s inches from kissing you.

roman appears out of thin air: “for the love of god, either fuck or kill each other, but pick one, we’re all exhausted.”

### MADRID – final night, the elevator Last show of tour. Everyone drunk, emotional.

You and Hollis end up in the elevator alone.

Doors close.

Silence for three floors.

you: “i still hate you.”

hollis: “i still want to ruin you.”

you: “same time tomorrow?”

He slams the stop button, grabs your throat, slams you against the wall so hard the metal dents. Kisses you like he’s trying to win the war with his tongue.

You bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.

He groans, grinds against you.

you: “this doesn’t mean i like you.”

hollis: “this doesn’t mean i won’t leak another nude if you piss me off again.”

you: “touché, asshole.”

I love your prompt (I LOVE YOUR PROMPT) but I only kind of followed it, because I had to talk myself into the "how" first, so I apologize for this not being a REAL fight they're having, but I hope it still somewhat scratches the itch! * Shannon really thinks she should have gotten the coffee shop in the breakup. Not that it was her breakup, but—she's team Buck, obviously. And she was definitely going to the coffee shop for years before Buck started dating Taylor, because it's just a few blocks away from her office, and it's not Shannon's fault that Taylor has also been going there for years because it's less than a mile away from Taylor's gym. Her bougie, criminally expensive gym where everyone wears Lululemon and shops at Erewhon and everyone works out with glossy hair that's already been blown out even though it's six am. Gross. Shannon only knows about this because Buck teased Taylor about it in her and Eddie's presence one time, and Taylor protested that it was a totally normal gym, it just had a spa attached, and sure maybe Buck and Eddie didn't get being treated at a spa, but Shannon would get it! and then somehow that wound up with Shannon using one of Taylor's day passes and feeling awkward and sweaty and miserably out of place in her Ross-Dress-for-Less workout clothes on a stationary bike next to Taylor, who was fully doing a spin class at six am with mascara already on. Those were dark times. And Shannon thought those times were over, because it may have taken a year and change, but Buck and Taylor had finally broken up, and that meant Shannon didn't have to care about Taylor or her stupid gym or her black mascara on her red eyelashes anymore. Except that she kept running into Taylor at the fucking coffee shop, and it was like Taylor didn't get the message that Shannon was Buck's. Which was crazy! Buck had saved Christopher's life! And also Shannon's life! And probably saved Eddie's life every day! He was practically an honorary Diaz. (On bad days, she thought Buck was probably more of an honorary Diaz than she was.) But yeah, Taylor smiled at her, said hi to her, asked her how Chris was, and made the same kinds of irritating needling comments that made Shannon dislike her when she was dating Buck in the first place—like, a compliment to Shannon's cardigan that was totally backhanded because she and Taylor both knew it came from Old Navy and Taylor's clothes came from Chanel. A snide little comment about avoiding emergencies now that she was back in her old zip code. One time she bought Shannon's coffee, like Shannon was a charity case, which was infuriating because Shannon was in line before Taylor, and Taylor came up behind her and put a hand on her back to interrupt and tell the barista she'd get it, and Shannon was too flustered by the feeling of Taylor's hand on her bare back (she was wearing a sundress) to argue. It was just aggravating!

Anyway, none of that really explained why Shannon was currently letting Taylor shove her up against the wall of a fucking Coffee Bean bathroom. She'd come in to pee, like anyone normal, but when she was washing her hands, Taylor came in, they exchanged a few barbs, and now Shannon was pressed up against the wall by the hand dryer and trembling while Taylor bit crazy little zings of feeling up and down her neck.

"You, oh," Shannon says, clutching Taylor's shoulders, and she's so—her body is smaller than Drew's, than Eddie's, than Buck's that one time, and her breasts are soft and strange and pressed up against Shannon's, and it's, it's so—it's weird. "You're such a bitch."

"Oh," Taylor says, and slides a hand down over Shannon's waist to land on her ass. She palms it, then squeezes, and Shannon squeaks and jerks her hips forward, which somehow is right into the thigh Taylor's squeezed between hers. "What have I done now?" "This is n-not," Shannon says, grinding down a little bit into Taylor's thigh, dazed. She's so wet. Embarrassingly wet. It's going to be uncomfortable later. "Not, uh, you and Buck have only, uh, been broken up a month."

"Heard he took your husband as a date to Hen's wedding," Taylor says, and shifts her hand so that she's cupping Shannon's ass cheek in such a way that her fingertips are stroking a little bit at her hole, a crazy feeling over her sundress. She doesn't know the last time anyone tried to touch her asshole over both her underwear and her dress. High school, maybe. Shannon feels a little bit like she did in high school, giddy on being wanted, a hot bubble of delight in her belly.

"I'm," Shannon says, and then loses her train of thought by pulling Taylor in for another soft, scorching kiss. "I'm Team Buck."

"Okay," Taylor says, and uses her grip to guide Shannon's hips forward in a hot, terrifying little circle on her thigh. "You wanna be Team Buck, or do you want to come back to my place and let me eat you out?"

Shannon's cunt is throbbing so hard she can't think. "I'm straight," she blurts out.

Taylor laughs at her. "Okay." Then she's carefully unpeeling herself from Shannon, thigh insinuating itself back, hands stroking simultaneously down Shannon's ass crack and over Shannon's left tit in a regretful little parting grope, soft smudged lipstick mouth no longer breathing the same air as Shannon's mouth. Shannon looks at her, still pressed against the wall, breathing hard.

The room smells like poop. Taylor does actually look human for once—her face is red, her lipstick is smeared down her chin, and Shannon can see some pit sweat. She looks so fucking beautiful, fuck, Shannon wants to eat her.

"Okay," Taylor repeats, a little disdainful, a little patronizing, exactly the same bitch Shannon's always known was judging the fuck out of her. "How about I text you the address in case you change your mind?"

Shannon's heart is pounding so hard. Is she having a panic attack? Is this what a panic attack is? She's going to have to ask Eddie. "I—listen," she says, breathless, trying to get back to the moral high ground, which she knows she had at one point. Didn't she? "You can't think I'd pick you over my family."

"Not asking you to pick anyone," Taylor says, scrubbing at her chin with a paper towel from the machine. "Just saying, if you want to come harder than your boyfriends or, God help us, Diaz have ever made you come in your life, I'm available."

Shannon's clit gives a traitorous little twitch.

"See you soon," Taylor says, supercilious and bitchy and so fucking sure of herself.

Shannon stays in the bathroom for another minute. Someone else comes in to pee. Her phone dings, and she sees that Taylor's dropped a pin.

HL Fic of the Month

✧ J u n e ✧

with venom on your tongue 

by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

While Louis had to try so hard to stay focused and be the best, Harry somehow did the same things with ease and confidence. He hated how Harry glided through life, carrying happiness on his shoulders like it was nothing when it was arduous for Louis. His carefree demeanor made Louis feel crazy. But that feeling just motivated him to always keep his eyes on the prize. Number one in the class rankings every year and the valedictorian spot the next year when they graduated. He was so close he could taste it. And if the only thing in his way was Harry Styles, then Louis was willing to up the stakes to figure out what made him weak just to beat him. “Whatever,” Louis eventually said to Liam. “He’s a fucking cliche.” or a boarding school AU where Harry and Louis are academic rivals until they realize they’re more similar than they thought.

I am going to fucking kill you. I am going to fire an arrow like this into your fucking ballsacks so you fucking bleed out on the ground.

You find out your twin brother hid a camera in your room, and decide to send a message he won't forget. Transfem POV.

Content warnings: cutting, blood, unsafe use of a knife, verbal abuse, sexual abuse, voyeurism, assault, sexual assault, non-con, incest, depictions of misogyny, depictions of transmisogyny, homophobic and transphobic slurs.