𝐕 𝐚 𝐥 . ✧･ﾟ

SAINT // 2

villain!hollis x fem!reader

about: saint murdered your fiancé. now the police are watching you just as closely as the man they're trying to catch. the closer the investigation gets to saint, the closer you get to him. the hardest part won't be hiding him from the police.

it'll be hiding him from yourself.

⠀

-

⠀

the apartment felt frozen in time. gray walls. gray skies. gray light spilling through the windows. outside, rain traced slow paths down the glass. inside, nothing moved at all.

you sat curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket you hadn't really left in days. your phone lay facedown beside you. silent now. eventually, people stopped calling.

⠀

grief was strange

⠀

sometimes it arrived all at once. sometimes it simply sat beside you. you couldn't tell how many days had passed anymore. or when the pain had quietly turned into something else. into nothing. no more tears. no more anger. no more strength.

just an emptiness so complete that it almost felt peaceful. you didn't wonder when life would start feeling normal again. because normal meant accepting what had happened.

accepting that your fiancé was dead. accepting that he wasn't coming back. accepting that it never had to happen. because if you had left saint alone, if you had ignored every note, if you had stopped looking for him... maybe he would still be alive.

and yet, despite the emptiness, the same thoughts returned every single day. the same accusations. the same unbearable truth.

he had been murdered. and you knew exactly who had done it.

the man you had once admired from afar. the man you should have feared. the man who had warned you again and again to stay away.

instead you'd done the opposite. one step closer. then another. until he'd found his way into your apartment. into your life. into the bed you once shared with another man.

you'd known it was wrong from the very beginning. every note. every conversation. every stolen moment. somewhere deep down, you'd known exactly where it would lead.

you just never thought the price would be his life.

⠀

-

⠀

grief had allowed you to disappear for days. but there was no avoiding today. today was the funeral.

the first time you'd left the apartment since his death. the first time you'd have to face a world that kept moving without him. outside, there was no sunlight. only rain.

you stood in front of the bathroom mirror. completely still. staring at a reflection that barely looked like you anymore.

your skin looked pale, your eyes swollen. dark shadows resting underneath them no amount of concealer could hide. you had tried anyway. not because you cared what you looked like but because people would be looking at you today.

the grieving fiancée - the woman who had lost the man she was supposed to marry.

you lowered your gaze toward the sink. makeup scattered across the counter. foundation. mascara. a lipstick you'd picked up and put back down three times already. none of it felt right. nothing felt right.

behind you, the bedroom stood untouched. the sheets still unmade. his side of the wardrobe still full. shirts hanging exactly where he'd left them. shoes lined up beneath them. a jacket thrown carelessly across the chair. everything waiting for someone who would never come home.

slowly you turned away from the mirror and walked back into the bedroom. the black dress lay across the bed. simple. long sleeved. appropriate. you hated it.

you hated that there were clothes made for days like this. hated that black had somehow become the color people wore when somebody stopped existing. hated that the world had rules for grief.

wear this. stand there. accept flowers. say thank you. survive.

you pulled the dress over your head. the fabric settled against your body. you stood in front of the mirror again. smoothing your hands across the material. trying to recognize the person staring back at you. you couldn't.

your gaze fell toward your left hand. the ring was still there. white gold. beautiful. clean. untouched by everything that had happened.

for a long moment you simply stared at it. you had tried taking it off the night before. you'd stood in the same bathroom. fingers wrapped around the band. twisting it slowly. pulling until it reached your knuckle, then you'd stopped.

because the second it moved, panic had filled your chest. as if removing it would make everything final. as if the ring was the last thing keeping him connected to this world. as long as it remained on your finger, some part of the future still existed.

all the things you'd once thought would last forever. all the things you'd complained about. all the things you would have given anything to have back. your thumb brushed across the smooth metal. once. then again.

"i'm sorry."

the words barely reached the empty room. you weren't sure who you were saying them to anymore. him. yourself. you looked away from your reflection. the ring stayed where it was.

⠀

-

⠀

the drive to the cemetery passed in silence. rain tapped steadily against the car windows.

the city moved outside in muted colors. gray buildings. blurred lights. strangers walking beneath umbrellas. strangers checking their phones. people living.

the sight of it made something bitter twist inside you. how could everything continue? how could traffic lights still change? how could shops still open? how could people complain about being late or wet or tired when he was dead?

the car slowed near the cemetery gates. black vehicles lined the road ahead. people stepped out one by one, umbrellas opening above them.

your stomach dropped. for days his death had existed only inside the apartment but now it was real in a different way. there were people here. dozens of them.

people who had known him before you. people who had grown up with him. people who had loved him in ways that had nothing to do with you.

you opened the car door. cold rain immediately touched your face. someone appeared beside you with an umbrella. you didn't look to see who. you simply let them guide you toward the others.

every step felt too heavy. your heels sank slightly into the wet ground. mud gathering along the edges. the cemetery stretching out around you beneath the dark sky. rows of stones. rows of names. rows of people reduced to dates. you tried not to look at them.

then you saw his family. his mother stood beneath a large black umbrella. held upright by someone beside her because both of her hands were pressed against her mouth. she looked smaller than you remembered. older. destroyed.

her shoulders shook with every breath. a woman you barely recognized kept one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her upright. his father stood close beside them. completely still.

his face looked blank from a distance. almost calm. until you noticed the way his jaw trembled. the way his hands opened and closed at his sides. the way he kept staring toward the coffin as if he still hadn't understood what it was.

his younger sister stood between them. eyes red. skin pale. one hand gripping their father's coat like a child.

you stopped walking. everything inside you seemed to collapse at once. because you had spent days thinking about what saint had taken from you: your fiancé, your future, your home.

but seeing them made you understand the rest of it. he hadn't only taken someone from you.

he had taken a son. a brother. a childhood best friend. a colleague. a person people called when their car broke down. a person who remembered birthdays. a person who had existed in a hundred different lives before yours.. and you had led saint directly to him.

your knees weakened. someone touched your arm. gently. encouraging you forward. you wanted to turn around. you wanted to run back to the apartment. lock the door. crawl beneath the blanket. disappear into the emptiness again.

instead you kept walking. his mother saw you first. her face changed. the grief somehow deepening. then she moved toward you. you barely had time to react before her arms wrapped around your body. tight. desperate.

a broken sound left her. somewhere between your name and a sob. for one horrible second, you couldn't hug her back. because she didn't know. she thought you were grieving beside her. she thought you were another victim of what had happened.

she didn't know that her son's murderer had stood in your kitchen. that he had touched you. kissed you. held you. that you'd let him into the bed her son had once slept in.

your stomach turned. finally your arms lifted around her. she clung to you harder. "i'm so sorry y/n." she whispered. you closed your eyes. the words tore through you.

she was sorry. she was comforting you. you should have been on your knees begging her forgiveness. instead you held her while she cried.

"i'm so sorry." you whispered back. your voice cracked. she misunderstood. she pulled away just enough to look at you. both hands finding your face. her eyes moving across it like she was searching for a piece of him somewhere in you.

"he loved you so much."

your breath stopped. the rain continued around you. tapping against the umbrella. sliding down the edges. he loved you so much. you tried to answer. nothing came out. her gaze dropped toward your hand. toward the white gold ring.

something shattered across her expression. she touched it carefully. one trembling finger brushing the band. "he was so excited." you swallowed. "about the wedding," she continued. her voice breaking. "he kept pretending he wasn't nervous, but he called me about everything."

your chest tightened until breathing hurt.

"the flowers. the music. whether his suit should be black or dark blue." a small sound escaped her. almost a laugh. almost another sob. "he didn't know anything about suits."

you stared at her. images appeared without permission. him standing in front of the mirror. him adjusting a tie. him waiting at the end of an aisle that would never exist. your vision blurred.

"he would've been so happy." you looked down. at the ring. at her hand still resting over yours. "i'm sorry." you whispered again. this time the words carried everything.

i'm sorry i wanted something else. i'm sorry i let a serial killer into our home. i'm sorry your son is dead because i couldn't leave danger alone.

but she only squeezed your fingers. "none of this is your fault." your body went cold. for a second the entire cemetery seemed to disappear.

none of this is your fault

you almost pulled your hand away. almost told her. almost opened your mouth and let every horrible truth fall out in front of everyone.

saint had warned you. saint had followed you. saint had loved you. saint had killed him, and you had known exactly what he was capable of.

instead you stood there. silent. cowardly. letting a grieving mother forgive you for something she didn't even know you had done.

⠀

-

⠀

the condolences began shortly after. one person after another. faces you recognized. faces you didn't.

his aunt hugged you for too long. his old school friend held both of your hands and told you how sorry he was. a colleague said your fiancé had talked about you constantly. someone else told you the two of you had been perfect together.

every sentence felt like punishment. "i can't imagine what you're going through." you nodded. "he didn't deserve this." you nodded again. "they'll find whoever did it." your breath caught.

you looked at the man speaking. one of his cousins, maybe. you couldn't remember. his expression was tight with anger. "the police will catch him."

the words settled somewhere deep inside your chest. the police will catch him. you should have felt relieved. you should have wanted that.

saint was a murderer. saint had taken the person standing beside you in photographs. the person whose clothes still hung inside your wardrobe. the person whose ring still wrapped around your finger. but beneath the grief, beneath the anger, beneath the guilt, another feeling moved.

fear

not fear that they wouldn't catch him. fear that they would. the realization made you feel sick.

you excused yourself before anyone could notice. you walked several steps away. pretending to adjust your umbrella. pretending you simply needed air. your fingers shook around the handle.

what was wrong with you? how could any part of you still care what happened to him? how could you stand at your fiancé's funeral and feel afraid for the man who had killed him?

you pressed your lips together. hard. trying to force the thought away. it remained.

SAINT

always saint. even here. especially here.

⠀

-

⠀

the coffin rested above the open grave. dark wood beneath a sea of white flowers. you recognized some of them. lilies. his mother loved lilies. you wondered if he had. you should have known. the thought nearly broke you.

people gathered around the grave. umbrellas touching. black fabric shifting beneath the wind.

you stood in the front row beside his family. exactly where everyone expected you to be. the fiancée. the almost-wife. the woman who was supposed to share the rest of his life.

the ceremony began. you barely heard any of it. words floated around you without meaning. beloved son. loyal friend. taken too soon. a life full of promise. every sentence made the guilt heavier.

you stared at the coffin. trying to understand that he was inside. that beneath the polished wood was the face you'd watched across the couch.

the hands that had once held yours. the chest you'd rested your head against. the mouth that had said love you so casually you had stopped hearing it. you had spent so long feeling alone beside him. now you would have given anything for one more quiet evening. one more distracted answer. one more night with his back turned toward you. anything. anything except this.

the person speaking paused. his sister stepped forward. she held a folded piece of paper in both hands. they trembled so violently that his father moved closer, ready to catch her if she fell. she began reading.

her voice broke after the first sentence. people around you lowered their heads. she tried again. talking about childhood. about the time he had broken his arm trying to jump from the garage roof because he'd promised her he could fly. a small wave of laughter moved through the crowd. soft. painful. full of tears.

she spoke about how he answered every call. no matter how late. how he had driven three hours to pick her up after her first breakup. how he teased her constantly but never let anyone else do it. how he had promised to dance with her at the wedding.

your eyes closed. the wedding. again. a future appearing in every sentence only to be destroyed again.

when she finished, she bent forward. unable to hold herself together any longer. their father caught her. his mother began sobbing again. and something inside you gave way. not completely. not yet. but enough that the first tear finally escaped.

it slid down your cheek. warm against skin made cold by rain. then another. and another. your hand closed around the ring. holding it so tightly the metal pressed painfully into your finger. you welcomed it. you deserved pain. you deserved all of it.

⠀

-

⠀

the coffin began to lower. your body moved half a step forward before you caught yourself. the ropes shifted. the dark wood descended slowly into the earth.

his mother cried out. a sound so raw it seemed to tear through everyone standing there.

you covered your mouth. your knees nearly collapsed beneath you. this was it. this was the moment he disappeared. not the news. not the police. not the empty apartment. this.

watching the person you had loved vanish into the ground. someone placed a hand against your back. you didn't know who. you didn't care. the coffin moved lower. lower. until there was nothing left but the grave.

the rain fell into it. people stepped forward one by one. flowers dropped onto the wood below. white against black.

his mother went first. then his father. then his sister. when it was your turn, somebody placed a single white rose into your hand. you stared at it. water gathered along the petals. your fingers trembled.

slowly you stepped toward the edge. the grave looked impossibly deep. for a moment you saw nothing. then the coffin came into focus below. your chest cracked open.

"i'm sorry." the words left you before you could stop them. quiet enough that nobody else heard. you hoped he did. wherever he was. if he was anywhere.

you let the rose fall. it turned once in the air. then landed softly among the others. your hand remained extended above the grave. empty. the ring caught the gray light. you stared at it. a promise wrapped around your finger. a promise you had broken long before death ended it.

"i'm so sorry."

⠀

-

⠀

people began leaving slowly. small groups disappearing between rows of graves. black umbrellas drifting toward the gates. more hugs. more hands resting against your shoulders. more condolences you didn't deserve.

his family stayed for a while. his mother asked if you wanted to come home with them. you almost said yes. then you imagined sitting inside their house. surrounded by childhood photographs. listening to stories about the man you'd helped kill. you couldn't.

"i just need a minute." you said. your voice sounded distant. she looked toward the grave. then back at you. understanding filled her expression. "of course."

she kissed your cheek. his father hugged you next. stiffly at first. then tighter. "you're still family." he whispered.

your eyes closed. the words felt like a knife. you didn't deserve that either. his sister could barely look at you without crying. when she wrapped her arms around you, her entire body shook. "he was so happy with you."

you held her. unable to say anything. because maybe he had been. and maybe you had simply stopped noticing.

eventually they left. you watched them walk away together. three people entering the cemetery as four. the realization settled inside you with unbearable weight.

saint hadn't only emptied your apartment. he had emptied their family. there would always be an empty chair now. an unanswered phone. a birthday that felt wrong. a christmas morning with one less voice.

his mother would wake up every day and remember she had buried her son. his father would carry the coffin in his head for the rest of his life. his sister would marry someday, maybe, and look toward the place where her brother should have been.

you had thought grief belonged to you. it didn't. it spread. through families. through friendships. through every person who had once built part of their life around him. and saint had left all of them standing in the ruins.

because of you.

⠀

-

⠀

the cemetery grew quiet. the workers had disappeared beneath the shelter of a nearby building. waiting for you to leave before they finished covering the grave.

you remained. alone now. rain falling harder.

your umbrella lay forgotten on the ground several feet away. carried there by the wind after your hand had loosened around it. your hair clung to your face. your dress soaked through. you barely felt the cold.

the grave stood in front of you. flowers already bending beneath the rain. his name had been placed on a temporary marker. two dates. a life contained between them. you stared at the first. the day he entered the world. then the second. the day saint took him out of it.

you dropped onto the wet ground. mud soaked instantly through the fabric covering your knees. you didn't care. your hands pressed against the earth at the edge of the grave.

"i'm sorry."

your voice broke. for days the tears hadn't come. now they wouldn't stop. your shoulders shook. breath tearing painfully from your lungs.

"i'm so fucking sorry."

the words fell into the open grave. you bent forward, forehead nearly touching the ground. the ring pressed into the mud beneath your palm.

"you didn't deserve this."

rain ran down your face. mixing with tears. filling your mouth whenever you tried to breathe.

"you didn't deserve any of it."

memories came all at once. his distracted smile. the sound of his key turning inside the lock. the way he always left cabinet doors open. the way he complained when you stole the blanket. his hand finding yours beneath the covers.

⠀

don't forget to eat today. love you. ⠀

the note. you had kept it. still folded inside your bag. written shortly before he died. your hand moved toward it instinctively. pulling the damp paper free.

the ink had started bleeding slightly from the rain. you unfolded it anyway. a sound tore from your throat. you pressed the note against your chest.

"i loved you."

the confession felt too late. useless. cruel. you had loved him. not enough. not correctly. not when it mattered. but you had. you looked toward the grave. vision blurred.

"i know it didn't feel like it."

your breathing broke apart.

"but i did."

the rain grew heavier. striking the earth. the flowers. your skin.

"i should've stayed away from him."

the words escaped before you could stop them. silence answered. you swallowed.

"he told me to."

your fingers tightened around the note.

"he warned me and i still..."

you couldn't finish. because saying it aloud made everything real. you had gone looking for saint. again and again. every shadow. every alley. every note.

you had treated danger like a mystery meant to be solved. you had wanted to see the monster. wanted him to see you. and now the man you were supposed to marry was underground.

"it should've been me."

the sentence came quietly. too easily. you stared downward. at the mud gathering beneath your nails. at the white gold ring stained dark.

"he should've killed me."

for one moment you almost wished he had. maybe then everyone else would still have their son. their brother. their friend.

you didn't know how long you stayed there. minutes. an hour. time no longer existed. only grief. only rain. only the grave. then something changed. not a sound. not movement. a feeling. familiar.

your crying quieted. slowly your head lifted. the cemetery stretched out around you. empty pathways. black trees. rows of stone disappearing into mist. nobody. and yet your skin prickled.

the same way it had in the streets. the same way it had inside the alley. the same way it always did before he appeared. your stomach turned.

no

you looked toward the cemetery gates. empty. toward the trees. nothing. toward the stone chapel at the far end of the grounds. dark windows stared back at you.

your pulse began climbing. he was here. you knew it with the same terrible certainty you'd known every other time. watching. even now. even here.

anger cut through the grief. sharp enough to make you sit upright. your eyes searched the distance. you pushed yourself onto trembling legs. mud covered your dress. the note still clutched inside one hand.

the cemetery remained silent but the feeling didn't leave. if anything, it grew stronger. eyes against your skin. a presence hidden somewhere beyond the graves. you turned slowly, searching every shadow. still nothing.

the fury inside you rose. rain streamed down your face. your hands shook at your sides. silence. then, somewhere in the distance, a shape moved. barely. a shadow passing between two trees. your breath stopped. you stared. nothing remained. only darkness. only rain.

maybe you'd imagined it. maybe grief had finally broken something inside your mind. but you knew better.

saint had come. not close enough to be seen. not close enough to touch. only close enough to make sure you weren't alone. and somehow that made you hate him even more. because even after taking everything from you, he still believed he had the right to stay.

you looked down at the grave one final time. your fingers closed around the ring. then you lifted the umbrella from the ground. you turned and began walking toward the cemetery gates.

one slow step after another. behind you the grave remained open. ahead of you, the city waited. and somewhere between the trees, hidden beneath the rain, the man who had destroyed your life watched you leave.

⠀

-

⠀

the ride home felt endless. rain slid quietly across the windows, washing the city into blurred streaks of gray. buildings passed. traffic lights changed. you watched all of it without really seeing any of it.

at some point the driver told you you'd arrived. you weren't sure how long you'd been sitting there. you thanked him automatically before stepping outside. cold rain greeted you immediately. you didn't bother opening your umbrella. there didn't seem to be much point anymore.

by the time you reached the entrance of the apartment building, your dress was damp around the hem. droplets clung to your hair, slowly running down your neck.

the lobby stood exactly as you'd left it. warm. bright. ordinary. the elevator doors slid shut behind you. twenty three floors. the familiar mechanical hum filled the silence. normally you would've checked your phone. today it remained buried somewhere inside your bag. you didn't care who had texted. you didn't care who hadn't.

the elevator chimed. the hallway stretched out in front of you, empty. for a moment you simply stood there. your apartment waited at the end of it. home.

the word didn't feel right anymore. you reached for your keys. your fingers slipped once. then again. on the third try the key finally found the lock.

the apartment was dark. you didn't switch on the lights. there was still enough gray daylight filtering through the windows. you stepped inside. closed the door. and stopped.

there it was. that scent. subtle. barely noticeable. and yet unmistakable. dark cedar. clean linen. something colder underneath. your eyes closed. not because you wanted to remember it. because you recognized it instantly.

⠀

SAINT

⠀

a week ago your pulse would've raced. a week ago you would've searched every corner of the apartment. called his name. waited for an answer. today you were simply tired. so unbelievably tired.

you slipped your shoes off without taking your eyes off the hallway. nothing. the apartment remained perfectly still. only the quiet hum of the refrigerator reached your ears.

you slowly walked farther inside. past the living room. past the couch. past the television. everything looked exactly the way you'd left it that morning. except...

your gaze landed on the kitchen table. a folded piece of paper rested neatly in the center. waiting. of course. a hollow laugh escaped you. "of course."

you didn't move immediately. instead you stood there looking at it. it almost felt ridiculous. every time you convinced yourself he couldn't possibly get any further into your life, he somehow managed.

your fingers slowly reached for the paper. the handwriting greeted you before you even finished unfolding it. sharp. confident. familiar.

⠀

COME HOME TO ME

⠀

you read the sentence once. then again. the room stayed silent. for several long seconds, you simply looked at the words.

then your eyes drifted toward the bedroom. the door stood half open. inside his clothes were still hanging in the wardrobe. his watch still rested on the nightstand. his toothbrush still stood beside yours.

your hand slowly closed around the paper. the edges crumpled beneath your fingers. "you're sick." your voice sounded strangely calm. almost empty. "you're completely fucking sick."

he had watched you bury the man he murdered. and this, this was what he had to say. you looked around the kitchen until your eyes found a pen lying beside a grocery list. without thinking you grabbed it. turned the note over. you didn't need long. the pen touched the page.

⠀

stay away from me

⠀

you stared at the sentence. it wasn't enough. you crossed it out. started again.

⠀

leave my life

⠀

no. still wrong. another line through it. your jaw tightened. finally you wrote:

⠀

whatever this is, it's over. stay out of my life.

⠀

this time you stopped. your handwriting looked uneven. letters pressed too hard into the paper. you looked at both sides. his words. yours. it felt less like a conversation and more like a goodbye. at least you wanted it to be.

carefully you folded the note again. not because you wanted to preserve it. because you knew he'd come back. he always did.

you placed it exactly where he'd left it. straightened it once. then stepped away. "read it." the whisper disappeared into the apartment. "and leave me alone." for the first time since meeting him, you meant every single word.

you turned your back on the kitchen. your bag slipped from your shoulder. it landed on the floor with a dull thud. you left it there. your coat followed a few steps later. you didn't bother hanging it up.

the bedroom felt colder than usual. the sheets were still untouched from that morning. for a long moment, you stood beside the bed. your eyes wandered across  the room. the wardrobe. the photographs. the empty pillow. the silence.

your fingers found the white gold ring. you turned it absentmindedly around your finger. it refused to move. or maybe you simply didn't have the strength anymore.

you lay down without changing. without washing away the rain. without taking off your makeup. the mattress dipped beneath your weight. your entire body ached. not in one place. everywhere.

you pulled the blanket over yourself. your eyes slowly closed. sleep found you almost immediately. not because you felt safe. simply because grief had finally exhausted every part of you.

the apartment fell silent once more. only the rain remained. softly tapping against the windows. and on the kitchen table, the note waited. exactly where you'd left it.

⠀

-

⠀

*knock knock*

the sound tore you out of sleep. another knock followed. firm. steady. coming from the front door.

your eyes snapped open. for a second everything felt unfamiliar. then yesterday crashed back into you. the funeral. the cemetery. the rain. the note.

⠀

COME HOME TO ME

⠀

your heart lurched. he'd read what you'd written. he'd come back. another knock echoed through the apartment.

you pushed yourself upright. the black dress from yesterday was still clinging to your body, wrinkled from sleeping in it. your makeup had settled beneath your eyes. your hair was a mess. you didn't care.

⠀

*knock knock knock*

⠀

he wasn't leaving. slowly you stood and walked into the hallway. every instinct told you not to open the door. as you passed the kitchen, your eyes drifted toward the table.

you stopped. empty. the note was gone. completely. your reply. his handwriting. everything. your stomach dropped. he'd been here. sometime during the night. while you'd been asleep. he'd taken it and left nothing behind.

⠀

another knock. louder now.

⠀

you forced your feet toward the door. your hand rested on the handle for a moment before you leaned toward the peephole.

two men. dark coats. badges. police.

every thought inside your head disappeared. they know. they know everything. your hand slipped from the lock. how? had someone seen him? had saint said something? had they found fingerprints? had...

your eyes darted back toward the kitchen. the table was still empty. nothing. the note was gone.

⠀

another knock.

⠀

you closed your eyes. calm down. if they knew, they wouldn't be knocking. they would've already come in. you unlocked the door.

"miss y/ln?" the older detective offered a sympathetic smile. "good morning." - "good morning." - "i'm detective reed." he briefly showed you his badge. "this is my partner." the younger detective gave you a small nod. he looked around your age. his expression was difficult to read.

"first of all..." reed lowered his voice. "...we're very sorry for your loss." something inside you loosened. they weren't here because of you. they were here because someone had been murdered.

"may we come in?" - "yes..." you stepped aside. "of course." the two detectives entered. reed thanked you quietly. the younger detective's eyes wandered through the apartment. not suspiciously. simply taking everything in.

the untouched flowers. the jacket hanging by the entrance. the framed photographs. the silence.

"sorry..." you looked around almost apologetically. "...i wasn't expecting anyone." - "you don't have to apologize." reed offered a reassuring smile. "we'll only take a few minutes."

you nodded. "can i get you something? coffee?" - "that's not necessary." the younger detective looked at reed. "i'd actually like one." reed sighed almost imperceptibly. "really?" he shrugged. "it's been a long morning." despite everything, the exchange felt strangely normal. "...okay."

you disappeared into the kitchen. anything to have your back turned for a moment. the coffee machine hummed softly while you tried to steady your breathing.

they don't know. they can't. otherwise they wouldn't be sitting at your table. 

you carried the mugs over. "thank you." the younger detective said quietly. reed waited until everyone had sat down before opening his notebook.

"i know this won't be easy." you wrapped both hands around the warm mug. "i'd just like to go over a few things." you nodded.

"when was the last time you saw your fiancé?" - "the evening before." - "how was he?" you frowned slightly. "...normal."

reed looked up. "normal?" you nodded. "he cooked dinner." the memory appeared so vividly it almost hurt. "we ate together ...we watched a movie." a pause. "he was happy." you looked down at the coffee. "he laughed." your voice grew quieter. "nothing seemed wrong." reed wrote something down.

"did he mention meeting anyone the next day?" - "no."

"did he seem nervous?" - "no."

"worried?" - "no."

"did he say anyone had been bothering him recently?" - "no."

another note.

"was he expecting any visitors?" - "no."

every answer came easier than the last. reed continued.

"did anything about his routine change during the days leading up to his death?" - "no."

"did either of you receive anonymous messages?"

your eyes instinctively drifted toward the empty place on the kitchen table. gone. the note was gone.

"...no."

the answer barely reached your own ears. reed didn't react. he simply kept writing.

"phone calls from unknown numbers?" - "no."

"letters?" - "no."

"anyone trying to contact you after his death?"

your throat felt dry. saint had stood inside this apartment. he had held you. kissed you. left notes. returned while you slept.

"no."

justice was sitting across from you. all you had to do was tell the truth.

he's called saint. he writes notes. he's been here. he killed my fiancé. the words never came. instead, another lie.

"...nothing." silence settled over the table. reed finally closed his notebook. "thank you." he looked genuinely sympathetic. "i know we're asking you to relive something incredibly painful." you managed a small nod. he stood. "if you remember anything..." - "...i'll call." - "please."

the detectives walked toward the front door. reed stepped into the hallway first. the younger detective followed, then stopped. 

"...sorry." he turned back around with an almost embarrassed smile. "i completely forgot." he extended his hand. "mr. leal." you shook it. his handshake was warm. "but you can call me roman." - "...roman." he smiled.

"i'll be assigned to your fiancé's case from now on." you looked at him questioningly. "which means i'll be checking in every day for a little while." - "every day?"

he nodded. "just to make sure you're alright." before you could answer, he continued. "if saint is still somewhere nearby..." his expression remained calm. "...i'd rather know you're not facing that alone."

for a moment neither of you spoke. then you nodded quietly. "...thank you." - "see you tomorrow." the two detectives disappeared down the hallway. you closed the door. turned the lock and leaned against it.

the apartment fell silent once more. then simply stood there. unmoving.

your eyes slowly found the kitchen. the empty spot on the table. the note was gone. which meant saint had been there and you hadn't told them.

why?

you frowned. no. why hadn't you told them? justice had been sitting in your kitchen. two detectives. badges. questions. all you had to do was tell the truth. he left notes. he was here. he killed my fiancé. but you lied.

the realization settled heavily inside your chest. what the hell was wrong with you? you hated him. didn't you? then why did the thought of him being caught make your stomach turn? why had you protected him? why had it felt impossible to say his name?

no answer came. only another thought.

roman

tomorrow. and the day after that. every single day. he would walk through that door. ask more questions. look a little closer. sooner or later he was going to notice.

the lies. the hesitation. the way your eyes searched the kitchen whenever saint was mentioned. you slowly looked back toward the front door. for the first time since the funeral, saint wasn't the only person you were afraid of. because if roman kept coming back, eventually, one of them was going to find the truth.

⠀

-

⠀

the next morning, he came back. right on time. he asked the same questions. had anyone contacted you? had you noticed anything unusual? had you remembered something you'd forgotten to mention? every answer came just as easily as the day before.

"no."

the morning after that, he returned again. this time alone. detective reed never came back. it was just him. he never stayed long. ten minutes. sometimes fifteen.

long enough to ask a few questions, look around the apartment, make sure everything was alright. then he'd leave again. at least that's how it started.

after a few days the conversations slowly drifted away from the investigation. sometimes he'd ask if you'd managed to sleep. sometimes whether you'd eaten.

once he noticed the untouched groceries in your kitchen and silently moved the milk back into the fridge before it spoiled.

another time he found you standing on the balcony with a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. instead of asking questions, he simply stood beside you. neither of you spoke for several minutes. strangely the silence never felt uncomfortable.

he wasn't much older than you. long, dark curls rested against the collar of his coat whenever the wind caught them. deep brown eyes. sharp features softened only by the occasional smile. and a voice so low and calm that it somehow made every room feel quieter.

he never pitied you. you were grateful for that. everyone else looked at you like you were something fragile. roman didn't. he spoke to you the same way he would've spoken to anyone else. like you were still a person. not just someone terrible things had happened to.

some mornings, you'd already have coffee waiting before he knocked. he always smiled. "i'm starting to think you're only letting me in because of the coffee." - "maybe." it was the first joke either of you had made in weeks. he laughed quietly. and somehow you found yourself laughing too.

the investigation never stopped. every visit ended with another question. another attempt. another opportunity to tell the truth.

"are you absolutely certain nobody contacted you?" - "yes."

"no letters?" - "no."

"no strange encounters?" - "...no."

the lies came more naturally now. that scared you.

at first you'd told yourself you only needed more time. then you convinced yourself there wasn't enough evidence anyway. eventually you stopped trying to explain it.

you weren't sure anymore whether you were protecting saint or protecting yourself. because once you admitted the truth, you'd have to admit everything. the notes. the alley. the apartment. the kisses. the night you'd willingly let a serial killer hold you.

your fiancé had died believing you loved only him. his family believed the same. the police did too. telling the truth wouldn't only expose saint, it would expose you and maybe that terrified you even more.

⠀

-

⠀

days passed. then another. then another. the apartment no longer felt quite as empty. not because grief had become easier. it hadn't. but because every morning, someone knocked on your door.

someone whose footsteps you recognized before he even spoke. someone who asked if you'd eaten. who always accepted a cup of coffee. who sometimes stayed five minutes longer than he had to. sometimes twenty.

the conversations grew easier. they talked less about evidence. more about everything else. movies. the weather. a café he'd insisted made the best cinnamon rolls in the city. the stray cat he'd somehow befriended outside the precinct. ordinary things. small things. things that reminded you life still existed somewhere beyond police reports and cemeteries.

the apartment almost felt safe again and as each day passed without another note, without another knock in the middle of the night, without another glimpse of blond hair disappearing into the darkness. you slowly allowed yourself to believe something you hadn't dared think before.

maybe... saint had finally let you go.

⠀

-

⠀

the following monday felt different. for the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up before your alarm. today wasn't about detectives. or funerals. or cemeteries.

today you were finally going back to work.

standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you hesitated for a moment. you still looked tired. the dark circles beneath your eyes hadn't disappeared. your smile still felt unfamiliar, but it was something.

slowly you slipped the white gold ring back onto your finger. you hadn't taken it off once. you weren't ready. maybe you never would be.

outside the city welcomed you with warm air. the rain had finally stopped. cars rolled past. people hurried along the sidewalks. someone laughed across the street. a dog barked somewhere nearby. life had continued. whether you wanted it to or not.

you found yourself walking without constantly looking over your shoulder. the familiar streets no longer felt haunted.

your feet carried you through downtown almost automatically. at the next intersection you slowed. the alley. you noticed it before your mind had the chance to. just across the street. quiet. empty. the place where everything had changed.

where saint had stepped out of the darkness for the first time. where you'd stopped being afraid of him. where you'd started making the biggest mistake of your life. you looked away. not today.

you crossed with the next green light, deliberately choosing the longer route. it wasn't fear anymore. it was a decision.

you were done looking for him. and strangely he seemed done looking for you too. days had passed. then more. no notes. no messages. no feeling of being watched. nothing.

a small part of you almost couldn't believe it. all because of your last message:

⠀

whatever this is, it's over. stay out of my life.

⠀

you'd expected another argument. another note. another attempt to convince you. instead... silence.

maybe he'd finally understood. maybe, for once, he'd listened. the thought settled somewhere inside you. careful. fragile. hopeful.

your office building came into view. you stopped outside for a second, taking a slow breath before pushing the glass doors open. almost immediately familiar voices greeted you. your coworkers spotted you before you'd even reached your desk.

"oh my god..." one of them wrapped you in a careful hug. "we're so, so sorry." another squeezed your shoulder. "we've been thinking about you every day." - "i'm glad you're back."

their kindness should've comforted you, but it made your chest feel heavier. every conversation sounded the same. every face carried the same expression. sympathy. pity. grief. 

you appreciated it. you really did. but after weeks of hearing how sorry everyone was, you wished someone would ask you something normal.

how was traffic? did you watch the game? want to grab lunch later? anything that didn't remind you why you'd been gone.

after a while the conversations faded. finally. people returned to work. phones started ringing again. keyboards clicked. printers hummed. the familiar rhythm of the office slowly returned.

it felt good. good to answer emails. good to organize paperwork. good to think about something other than death.

you reached your desk. smiled faintly to yourself. this was exactly what you needed. something normal. you pulled your chair back. then stopped. there was an envelope lying neatly in the center of your desk. no stamp. no address. your name wasn't written anywhere.

your smile disappeared. you picked it up. it wasn't sealed. your fingers suddenly felt cold.

no. not here. please... not here.

you unfolded the paper inside. it wasn't a letter. it was a newspaper clipping. an article. your eyes immediately found the headline.

⠀

FIANCÉE OF SAINT'S LATEST VICTIM SAYS SHE NEVER SUSPECTED A THING. She described the days leading up to the murder as completely ordinary. According to investigators, neither she nor the victim had noticed anything unusual before his death. Police continue to search for the serial killer known as Saint.

⠀

you stared at the words. your interview. your lies. then your eyes drifted lower. beneath the article, written in familiar handwriting, just one sentence:

⠀

YOU LIED BEAUTIFULLY FOR ME

⠀

everything around you disappeared. the office. the conversations. the ringing phones.

your fingers loosened around the paper. he knew. he knew exactly what you'd told the police. he knew every lie.

your heartbeat pounded so loudly you barely heard someone call your name from across the room. saint wasn't gone. he'd never been gone. he'd simply been watching. waiting. he had reached your desk before you had.

⠀

-

⠀

somehow you made it through the rest of the day. you answered emails. sat through meetings. pretended to listen whenever somebody spoke to you.

every now and then, your eyes drifted back to the folded newspaper clipping inside your desk drawer. you should've thrown it away, but you couldn't bring yourself to. the words refused to leave your mind.

⠀

YOU LIED BEAUTIFULLY FOR ME

⠀

beautifully. as if he'd been proud of you. as if the lies hadn't belonged to the police. but to the two of you.

the thought made your stomach twist. every unfamiliar face suddenly caught your attention. every person walking past your office. every coworker stopping by your desk. every delivery driver entering the building. you caught yourself wondering.

does he know them? has he been here? is he watching now?

it was exhausting. by the time the workday finally ended, your head was pounding. you packed your bag and stepped outside.

the evening air was warm. the city buzzed around you exactly as it always had. people filled the sidewalks. music drifted from cafés. cars rolled through intersections. everything looked normal.

you wished it felt that way.

halfway home you reached the familiar crossing. the alley waited across the street. quiet. empty. just as it had been that morning.

your pace slowed automatically. for a brief second your eyes lingered on the narrow entrance. nothing moved. no blond hair. no black clothes. no impossible feeling crawling across your skin. still you crossed with the next light and chose the longer route again. just in case.

by the time you reached your apartment building, you almost laughed at yourself. this had become ridiculous. he wasn't there. he hadn't been there this morning. he wasn't standing in the alley now.

maybe... maybe today really had been nothing more than one final message. one final goodbye.

the apartment greeted you with silence. you checked every room anyway. the bedroom. the balcony. the bathroom. the kitchen. nothing. no notes. no scent lingering in the air. no sign that anyone had been inside. you let out a slow breath. "you're losing it." the quiet laugh that followed sounded tired more than amused.

you locked the door. double checked it. then headed into the living room. the television flickered to life almost immediately.

you weren't interested in whatever was playing. you just didn't want the apartment to be silent. voices filled the room. a game show. commercials. a sitcom you'd seen years ago. anything was better than hearing your own thoughts.

you curled up beneath a blanket. trying not to think. trying not to look toward the windows every few minutes. trying not to wonder whether someone might be looking back. the evening news interrupted the program. you barely paid attention.

"breaking news."

your eyes remained fixed on the coffee table.

"another body has been discovered."

your head lifted. the anchor continued speaking.

"...local authorities have confirmed that councilman nathan mercer was found dead earlier this evening."

your heartbeat slowed. the screen changed. blue police lights. yellow tape. flashing cameras. a street you recognized immediately. barely ten minutes from your apartment.

"investigators have confirmed that the victim's body showed the same signature associated with the serial killer known as saint."

another image appeared. officers shielding the entrance. forensic teams moving in and out. then the anchor's voice dropped.

"...authorities have withheld most details from the public. however, sources close to the investigation report that the victim's heart had been removed and placed beside the body."

your blood ran cold. not hidden. not stolen. placed. carefully. deliberately. like it had been left there for someone to find. the next image filled the screen. letters written in blood across the wall.

⠀

SAINT

⠀

your breathing stopped. everyone watching the news saw another signature. another murder. another victim.

but you... you heard something else.

⠀

COME HOME TO ME

YOU LIED BEAUTIFULLY FOR ME

⠀

and now...

a heart.

your stomach twisted. no - this wasn't for the police. it wasn't for the reporters. it wasn't even for the man he'd killed. you knew. saint had left that heart for one person. and one person only.

you weren't listening anymore. he'd done it again. after all this time, he'd done it again. and so close. why here?

your mind searched desperately for an answer. was it coincidence? a warning? had he wanted you to see it on the news? had he chosen the location because of you? or had he simply wanted you to know he was still there?

the apartment suddenly felt much smaller. you muted the television. the silence returned instantly. too loud. too heavy. your eyes wandered toward the windows. darkness had swallowed the city outside. for the first time in days you felt watched again.

that night sleep refused to come. you turned onto one side. then the other. closed your eyes. opened them again.

every small sound from the hallway made your pulse jump. the elevator. footsteps. a car door somewhere below. your thoughts wouldn't stop. your fiancé. the funeral. roman. the lies. saint. always saint.

you hated him. you repeated it to yourself over and over. you hated him. he'd ruined your life. taken everything from you.

so why... why did a small, shameful part of you keep wondering where he was? whether he'd watched the news too. whether he was safe. whether you'd ever see him again. your eyes snapped open.

"what the fuck is wrong with me..." the whisper disappeared into the darkness. you buried your face deeper into the pillow. as if hiding from the thought could erase it. it couldn't.

because no matter how hard you tried to push him away, saint had already found a place inside your mind. and that was the only place he needed to be.

⠀

-

⠀

the next morning arrived with another knock. not loud. not urgent. steady. predictable. somewhere along the way, you'd started recognizing it.

roman

by the time you opened the door, he was already holding two paper coffee cups. "thought i'd save you the trouble today." the corner of your mouth lifted ever so slightly. "trying to put me out of business?" - "something like that." he handed one to you before stepping inside.

the apartment had become familiar to him by now. he no longer looked around the room each time he entered. he simply took off his jacket, placed it over the back of the dining chair and sat down as though he'd done it a hundred times before.

today felt different. he wasn't smiling as much. you noticed it immediately. "everything okay?" he looked up. "me?" you nodded. he hesitated. "did you watch the news last night?" your fingers tightened slightly around the warm cup. the new murder. the heart. saint.

roman leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "i almost came over." you frowned. "...last night?" - "i figured you'd probably seen it." he looked away for a brief moment before continuing. "i didn't want you sitting here alone after something like that."

the room fell quiet. you hadn't expected that answer. he wasn't asking questions. he wasn't investigating. he'd simply been worried.

"i'm okay." the words sounded unconvincing even to yourself. he studied your face for a second. "you didn't sleep." it wasn't a question. you gave a tired smile. "is it that obvious?" - "a little." you looked down into your coffee. "i'll survive."

roman didn't answer immediately. instead he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small notebook. "i still have to ask." his tone became more professional.

"did anyone contact you after yesterday?" - "no."

"anything left at your apartment?" - "no."

"did you notice anyone following you?" - "no."

he wrote down each answer. then closed the notebook again. "good." he sounded relieved. almost too relieved.

another silence settled between you. outside, rain tapped softly against the windows again. inside, only the quiet hum of the refrigerator filled the apartment. roman broke it first.

"can i ask you something that isn't official?" you nodded. "have you actually been outside... besides work?" you thought for a moment. "not really." - "you should." you raised an eyebrow. he smiled faintly.

"not because i'm telling you to. because hiding in here isn't going to make this place feel safe again." you let the words settle. maybe he was right. maybe that was exactly what you'd been doing. trying to make the world smaller until nothing could reach you anymore.

"it's just..." you searched for the right words. "everything reminds me of him." roman understood immediately. he didn't ask which one. your fiancé. or saint. he assumed there was only one answer.

"that's normal." his voice remained low. "grief doesn't disappear because we want it to." he looked around the apartment. "but eventually..." his gaze returned to yours. "...you deserve to live in it again."

something tightened in your throat. nobody had said that to you before. they'd told you to stay strong. to take your time. to call if you needed anything. but nobody had reminded you that one day you were still supposed to live.

without really thinking, you sat down beside him on the couch. neither of you spoke. minutes passed in comfortable silence. then, almost absentmindedly, roman reached over. his hand rested gently over yours. not possessive. not romantic. simply there. grounding.

"if it ever gets too much..." his thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles. "...call me." you looked at him. "doesn't matter what time it is. i mean it. i don't want you sitting here convincing yourself you have to carry all of this alone."

your eyes searched his. there was something there. something that hadn't been there during his first visit. it wasn't difficult to recognize. it was much harder to decide what it meant. you slowly withdrew your hand. not because you wanted to hurt him. because you didn't know what to do with kindness anymore.

"i'm really okay." you offered him a small smile. "i promise." he held your gaze for another second. then gave a quiet nod. "i hope so."

he stood. for a moment you thought he was getting ready to leave. instead he reached beneath his jacket. your muscles tensed instinctively. when his hand emerged again, he was holding a small black handgun.

he kept the barrel pointed toward the floor before engaging the safety. then extended it toward you. you stared at it. "...roman." - "i want you to have it." - "no."

your answer came instantly. "i can't." - "you can." he placed it carefully on the coffee table between you instead of forcing it into your hands. "roman-" - "listen to me." his voice stayed calm. "if saint ever comes through that door..." he nodded toward the entrance. "...i don't want your only option to be hoping he'll leave."

you looked at the pistol. it felt wrong. heavy. even without touching it. "i've never even held one." - "i know." - "i'll show you." you shook your head. "i don't want one." - "i know." another pause. "but wanting has nothing to do with surviving."

those words lingered in the room. he crouched in front of the coffee table, meeting your eyes. "if nothing ever happens..." a faint smile appeared. "...you can hand it back to me and I'll happily admit I worried too much." his expression softened again.

"but if one day you're standing in this apartment, and he comes back..." he didn't finish the sentence. he didn't need to. you finally looked at him. there was fear in his eyes. not for himself. for you.

you wondered whether his concern had begun to grow into something else. whether the daily visits had stopped being only about the case. the thought disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. your life was too broken to make sense of feelings. especially someone else's.

after a long silence you reached for the gun. not because you wanted it, because refusing it suddenly felt impossible.

roman let out a quiet breath. "good." he stood, grabbed his jacket and headed toward the door. just before leaving, he looked back one last time. "lock the door after me." - "i always do." - "i know." another small smile. "keep doing it."

then he was gone. the apartment fell quiet once more. your eyes drifted from the closed front door, to the gun resting in your lap.

the thing that frightened you most wasn't the weapon. it was the realization that you had no idea whether you'd be able to pull the trigger if the person standing on the other side of the door was saint.

⠀

-

⠀

the rest of the day passed more easily than you'd expected.

roman's visit that morning lingered in your thoughts far longer than it probably should have. there was something strangely comforting about knowing someone would knock on your door again tomorrow. and the day after that - you didn't feel completely alone.

work helped. it always had. there were emails waiting to be answered. meetings that somehow could've been emails. someone complaining about the coffee machine. another coworker arguing with the printer for what felt like the hundredth time.  you found yourself smiling once. it disappeared almost immediately, but it had been there. that felt like progress.

saint barely crossed your mind. when he did, it was only for a second. you reminded yourself of the empty kitchen table. of the days that had passed without another note. without another murder aimed at you. without another impossible encounter. maybe he had finally understood. maybe your message had reached him after all.

⠀

-

⠀

by the time you left the office, your shoulders felt lighter than they had in a long time. the evening air was warm against your skin. music drifted from restaurants. life. normal, ordinary life. you'd almost forgotten what it looked like.

your usual route brought you past the alley once more. your eyes wandered toward it automatically. you didn't slow down. didn't stop. didn't look twice. you simply kept walking.

when your apartment building came into view, you caught yourself thinking about dinner instead of danger. that alone felt like a victory.

you unlocked the door. kicked off your shoes. placed your keys in the small bowl by the entrance. the apartment greeted you with its familiar silence. you wandered through the rooms almost absentmindedly. bedroom. bathroom. kitchen. everything exactly where it belonged. 

you smiled to yourself. see? you'd been paranoid. nothing more.

you filled the kettle with water. made yourself tea. then curled up on the couch with the television quietly playing in the background. you weren't really watching. the voices were enough. they made the apartment feel less empty.

your body slowly relaxed into the cushions. for the first time in what felt like forever you felt safe.

⠀

*knock knock*

⠀

your head turned toward the front door. a faint smile appeared before you could stop it. "roman?" maybe he'd forgotten something.

another knock. steady. patient. you set your mug down. frowning, you crossed the apartment. your eye met the peephole. empty. you blinked. leaned closer. still nothing. "...very funny."

you unlocked the door and pulled it open. the hallway stretched out in complete silence. left. right. no one. you stepped forward. looked both directions once more. nothing.

you walked back inside. closed the door. turned the lock. and then you smelled it. that scent. familiar. impossible. your entire body went still. slowly, almost afraid to look, you turned around.

he was standing by the window. motionless. his broad shoulders outlined by the last light of the evening. long blond hair falling loosely around his face. one hand resting in the pocket of his black jeans. the other behind his back.

he'd been watching the city. watching your city. from your apartment. as though he'd always belonged there. he turned his head. those impossible crimson eyes found yours instantly. they softened the moment they did. and then... he smiled. "hi."

⠀

-

⠀

TOUCH A STAR // 3

fem!reader x redflag!hollis series

authors note: this story actually happened to me irl, just with another artist instead of hollis. the entire experience felt like a fever dream, so i had to turn it into a fic.

and we all love a little tea, don't we?

⠀

✩⠀

⠀

you: and you think you could handle owning me?

⠀

his reply came almost instantly.

⠀

2hollis: i don't think

2hollis: i take

2hollis: the real question is whether you could handle being mine

⠀

✩⠀

⠀

you turned your phone off again and looked out the window, taking a slow breath. for a second you'd thought your reply might've knocked his ego down a little.

it hadn't. he hadn't budged an inch. if anything, he'd only stood his ground harder. that kinda did something to you. he felt untouchable. unshakable. completely out of reach.

before getting out of the bus, you opened your chat one last time and typed back.

⠀

you: what's being yours even supposed to mean?

⠀

you hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket and stepped outside.

the warm summer air drifted gently through your hair, pulling you back to reality. or at least, it tried to. because his voice was still echoing in your head. and the fact that he wasn't just there anymore -

he was in your dms too.

⠀

✩⠀

⠀

you finally made it home. you dropped your bag in the hallway and let yourself sink onto the couch.

what a day.

almost instinctively, you reached for your phone. your heart sped up immediately.

nothing. okay.

maybe he'd gotten bored of the conversation after all. then again, he probably had a thousand girls in his dms. who were you to expect another reply?

with a quiet sigh, you headed to the bathroom. you started taking your makeup off, already getting ready to shower, when that now familiar notification sound suddenly echoed through the apartment.

your hand was on your phone before you even realized you'd reached for it.

⠀

2hollis: giving yourself to me

2hollis: letting me decide what gets you going

2hollis: seeing if you can handle that

⠀

wow. were you reading the next chapter of fifty shades of grey, or were you actually texting dracula?

everything about the way he spoke felt so consuming. almost like he was offering you a deal.

this wasn't just flirting anymore. it wasn't even just texting. every message circled back to the same thing.

ownership.

but were you ready to be his? how much longer could the two of you keep talking before this turned into something more?

right now it was just a chat. something you could end whenever you wanted. no promises. no risk. and yet with every reply, you let him pull you in a little deeper.

maybe it was the mystery. the fact that you still didn't know his face. all you had was his voice, his music, and the version of himself he let the world see. how much more would he show you if you kept playing along?

and from that moment on, that became the only question you cared about. how far could you push this?

⠀

you: i'd be wearing your name on my body anyway

you: so i'd already be giving you a part of me

you: i just wanna know if i'm gonna end up cursing your name

you: or worshipping it

⠀

then... nothing. for hours.

at some point it turned into a game. a toxic one. who could make the other wait longer. who cared less.

deep down you already knew the answer. from the very beginning you were the one who was more invested.

still, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were the one in control. that you could walk away whenever it became too much. that you'd know exactly when to stop.

⠀

✩⠀

⠀

later that night you were already in bed, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone before going to sleep, when a notification banner slid across your screen. your eyes locked onto it instantly.

⠀

2hollis: you'll curse me when i push you

2hollis: worship me when i don't stop

2hollis: that's surrender

⠀

great. now how were you supposed to fall asleep after that?

luckily you'd only read the messages from the notification preview, so they still showed as unread. not that it mattered. he probably knew anyway. to him you were about as easy to read as glass.

after staring at the screen for another minute, you gave in. because honestly, what could be better than waking up to a message from your celebrity crush? opening your eyes and seeing 2hollis lighting up your lock screen.

⠀

you: what if i don't do what you tell me?

⠀

with a small smile you set your phone aside, curious to see what that little bit of attitude would get you.

⠀

✩⠀

⠀

the next morning was quiet. gray. you slowly opened your eyes and looked out the window. cool morning air drifted through the open frame, brushing softly against your face.

you were still half asleep, your thoughts moving slower than usual, when everything that had happened the day before started coming back.

oh my god. right. 2hollis. and - oh my god. did he reply?

you reached for your phone on the nightstand so fast it nearly slipped from your hand. the screen lit up instantly. two new messages. one from em. one from him.

⠀

2hollis: you can try not listening

2hollis: doesn't mean you'll get away with it

2hollis: your choice

⠀

a sharp knot settled low in your stomach and it wasn't even nine in the morning. you didn't reply right away. who knew what your half asleep self would've come up with? instead you opened em's chat first.

⠀

☏ ˚₊

em: good morninggg

em: any updates??

em: how are we feeling

you: girl idk

you: * 2 screenshots attached *

you: you tell me

em: what are you two even talking about 

em: bro wants you BAD

you: he wants to own me

em: yeah he's definitely got an ego

em: man's obsessed with himself

em: red flag

you: kinda hot tho

em: girl please don't do anything stupid

you: it's literally just a chat

em: for now

you: he'll probably get bored eventually

em: we'll see

em: keep me updated

☏ ˚₊

⠀

your fingers tingled. as much as you wanted to make him wait, you couldn't. you wanted that rush again. that little hit of adrenaline every time his name popped up on your screen.

he'd reply... right?

doubt crept in. what if yesterday had just been boredom for him? what if he'd already moved on? there was such an obvious power imbalance between the two of you.

he was giving you something you'd never had before. and you were giving him something he could probably get from anyone.

maybe this meant nothing to him. but if you didn't text him, you'd never know. so before you could talk yourself out of it, you started typing.

⠀

you: i think wearing your name's already kinda crazy

you: it's basically a seal

you: and if i bite you as hard as you want me to

you: guess there'd be blood too

⠀

you rolled your eyes. this guy was making you say things you'd never imagined yourself texting. but somehow he always matched your energy.

probably a good thing you actually had to get up now. less time to overthink everything.

⠀

✩⠀

⠀

your morning routine went exactly the way it always did. you turned on your speaker and of course his music was the first thing filling the apartment. the lyrics only made everything worse. or better. you couldn't decide.

you made breakfast, got dressed, went through the motions. everything was exactly the same. except every couple of minutes, your mind wandered right back to him.

⠀

✩⠀

⠀

halfway through doing your makeup, an urge suddenly hit you. youtube. you wanted to know if he'd ever done any interviews. anything. literally anything that would tell you more about him.

so you paused the music, pulled your laptop onto your makeup desk and opened youtube. your fingers hovered over the keyboard for a second before you typed:

2hollis interview

you hit enter. three videos appeared almost instantly. one was audio only. one was animated. and then... oh my god.

the third one showed him sitting across from the interviewer at a table. he was wearing a mask. but it was him. really him. without thinking, you clicked on it. and just like that your nervous system was spiraling all over again.

and then he spoke. not through a song. not through lyrics. just his voice.

your breath caught in your throat. it was deeper than you'd imagined. calm. confident. exactly the way he'd been texting you.

you couldn't stop watching.

the way he leaned back in his chair. the way his hands moved when he talked. the muscles in his arms catching the light, even more defined than in the few photos you'd seen online. he really was that tall. that built.

for a second it almost didn't feel real that this was the same person waiting in your dms.

the interviewer described him as one of a kind. someone who'd already changed the sound of an entire genre. big words. for someone who had somehow found his way into your life overnight.

you were still trying to process all of it when your phone buzzed. you didn't even have to look at the name. you already knew. the same voice echoing from your laptop was now waiting for you on your lock screen.

you picked up your phone. and the moment you read his messages, a shiver ran down your spine.

⠀

2hollis: a little blood just makes the seal stronger

2hollis: you know what you're getting yourself into, princess?

⠀

✩⠀

⠀

VACATIONFLING!HOLLIS X RICHGIRL!READER

cw: strangers to lovers, vacation fling, unprotected sex, choking, biting, oral (m rec), rough sex, floor sex, shower sex, scratching, making hollis bleed swag summer masterlist taglist

PART ONE.

☀︎༄.°

The private plane had arrived later than expected, throwing off what was supposed to be a smooth arrival and turning it into a rushed, slightly chaotic scramble through the small island airport.

The air inside the terminal was warm and humid, clinging to your skin the moment you stepped inside, and between waiting on luggage and navigating through scattered groups of arriving tourists, your patience had already worn thin before you even made it outside.

By the time you and your best friend Kate finally made it to the car waiting outside, you were both exhausted in a way that felt disproportionate to how little you had actually done. The driver greeted you politely, already reaching for your bags, while you slid into the backseat with a tired groan and let your head fall against the leather seat.

Kate followed right after you, immediately kicking off her shoes and leaning her head back with a long exhale.

“I swear,” you muttered, staring out the tinted window as the airport lights faded behind you, “if I hear one more person say ‘welcome to paradise,’ I’m going to lose it.”

Kate let out a quiet laugh beside you, closing her eyes as if she might fall asleep right there.

The car pulled away smoothly, and almost immediately, the landscape outside began to change. The airport buildings disappeared behind clusters of palm trees, and suddenly the road opened up into something quieter, more remote, as if the world itself was slowing down around you.

The Maldives at night looked almost unreal.

Tall palm trees lined the roads, their leaves swaying gently in the warm breeze, while soft golden lights wrapped around their trunks and hung from branches like floating lanterns. Every so often, glimpses of the ocean appeared between the trees, reflecting faint ribbons of moonlight across its surface.

Even through your exhaustion, you couldn’t ignore how beautiful it was.

The tension in your shoulders loosened slightly as the air conditioning cooled your skin, and you shifted just enough to rest more comfortably against the seat.

“I might forgive the airport for ruining my life,” you said finally, watching the scenery pass by.

Kate hummed in agreement without opening her eyes.

The drive to the resort didn’t take long, but it felt long enough for your body to start drifting somewhere between awake and not quite asleep. Soft music played quietly through the car speakers, blending with the sound of tires against smooth pavement and the city around you.

By the time the driver slowed to a stop, your phone read just past midnight.

The moment the car door opened, warm night air spilled inside, wrapping around you instantly. You stepped out slowly, followed by Kate, and both of you paused without even saying anything.

The resort in front of you didn’t look real at first.

It stretched out like something from a dream, with glowing pathways lined in soft amber lights and tall palm trees framing every direction you looked. Lanterns in shades of gold, pink, and soft blue hung from branches, reflecting off infinity pools that blurred seamlessly into the ocean beyond.

Your suitcases were wheeled behind you as a staff member led the way down a stone pathway surrounded by tropical plants and softly lit gardens.

Your rooms were side by side, each with a small private porch that faced out toward the water.

The moment your bags were set down inside, you and Kate collapsed onto the outdoor chairs like your bodies had finally given up pretending to function.

Kate stretched her arms out dramatically, letting her head fall back.

“I think I’ve reached maximum exhaustion,” she said.

You let out a tired laugh, leaning back in your chair.

“That was, like, three hours of travel,” you replied.

Kate opened one eye to look at you. “And?”

You smiled slightly, shaking your head.

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, Kate turned her head toward you. “Are you going to bed?”

You considered it for a moment, glancing toward your room where the soft lighting spilled out through the open door. Your body was definitely tired, but your mind wasn’t ready to settle yet. There was still too much energy left in you, too much restlessness from the long day.

“I think I’m going to get a drink first,” you said finally.

Kate nodded immediately, like she had expected that answer.

“Okay, I’m going to pass out then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You stood up, smiling faintly. “Goodnight.”

After Kate disappeared into her room, the resort fell into a quieter rhythm around you. The distant sound of the ocean became more noticeable, no longer competing with conversation or movement, just steady and constant like background music.

You stayed outside for a few more seconds, leaning against the porch railing and letting the warm air settle against your skin.

Eventually, you pushed yourself up and stepped back inside your room.

The space was dimly lit and calm, designed in soft neutral tones. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one wall, showing nothing but ocean and night sky beyond them. The bed sat perfectly made, almost untouched.

For a moment, you just stood there, letting it sink in.

Then you headed straight for the shower.

By the time you stepped out, your skin felt lighter, your hair damp and loose around your shoulders, and your mind clearer than it had been all day.

You moved slowly as you got ready, pulling on a pair of small black shorts and a matching halter top. You added your black wedge sandals at the end, glancing at yourself in the mirror without much thought.

When you finally stepped outside again, the resort had grown even quieter.

The pathways were nearly empty now, lit by soft golden lights that reflected faintly on the stone beneath your feet. Somewhere in the distance, music played low and slow from the bar area, mixing with the sound of the ocean in a way that made everything feel slightly unreal.

The closer you got to the bar, the more the atmosphere shifted. It was still calm, still intimate, but there was a subtle hum of life now, the occasional laugh carried by the breeze, the faint clink of glasses, the soft glow of warm light spilling out into the open air.

And then you saw him.

At first, it was just the shape of someone sitting alone at the bar, angled slightly away from you. He looked relaxed in a way that felt like he belonged exactly where he was.

His long blond hair caught the light whenever he shifted slightly, and even from a distance, there was something about the way he carried himself that made you notice him before you even understood why.

You hesitated for half a second without realizing it.

Then you walked over and took a seat a few stools away from him, close enough to notice him but not close enough to acknowledge him directly.

You ordered your drink from the bartender without looking in his direction, even though you were aware of him in a way that felt mildly irritating.

When your drink arrived, you wrapped your fingers around the glass and took a slow sip, letting your attention drift outward toward the dark horizon beyond the bar instead of to your side.

Still, you could feel him there.

And eventually, the silence between you shifted.

“You from L.A.?”

His voice was calm, smooth, and far too confident for someone you hadn’t even spoken to yet.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you took another sip of your drink, letting the question sit in the air for a moment longer than necessary before you finally turned your head toward him.

He was already looking at you.

Up close, he was even more noticeable than you expected. Not in an overwhelming way, but in a way that made it slightly difficult to look away once you had started paying attention. His posture was relaxed, one arm resting casually against the bar, as if he had all the time in the world.

You tilted your head slightly.

“How’d you guess?” you asked, your tone calm but lightly amused.

His eyes moved over you for a brief second before meeting yours again.

“You’ve got that rich girl L.A. vibe,” he said simply.

You let out a quiet laugh through your nose.

“Rich girl L.A. vibe?”

He nodded once, like he was completely serious.

“It’s hard to miss.”

You turned slightly in your seat now, giving him your full attention, even though you told yourself it was just out of curiosity.

“And what exactly does that mean?” you asked.

He leaned back slightly, studying you for a moment like he was deciding how honest he wanted to be.

“It means you look like you’re used to people paying attention to you,” he said.

That answer made something pause in your chest, subtle enough that you almost ignored it.

Most people would have said something obvious. Spoiled. Princess. Maybe even stuck up if they were trying to be rude.

But this wasn’t that.

This felt more observant than judgmental.

You looked away first, taking another sip of your drink like it was suddenly more interesting than the conversation.

“Bold assumption,” you said lightly.

“I’m usually right,” he replied.

That made you smile despite yourself.

“Dangerous trait,” you said.

“For who?” he asked.

You glanced back at him again.

“Depends,” you said. “On how wrong you are.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, like he enjoyed that answer more than he expected to.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The ocean behind the bar moved slowly in the background, the sound of waves filling the silence in a way that didn’t feel awkward. It felt like the silence was part of the conversation rather than a pause in it.

Then he finally spoke again.

“I’m Hollis,” he said.

You looked at him properly for the first time without pretending you weren’t.

And this time, you didn’t look away immediately.

“Don’t get cocky, Hollis,” you replied.

His smile widened slightly, like he had been waiting for that exact reaction.

He shifted slightly on his stool so he was angled more toward you now, not invading your space, but no longer pretending he was just casually existing beside you either.

The change was subtle, but noticeable enough that the conversation no longer felt like two strangers sitting near each other at a bar.

“You always this welcoming to people who introduce themselves?” he asked.

You took another sip of your drink before answering, letting the question hang in the air just long enough to make it clear you weren’t going to be rushed.

“Only the overly confident ones,” you said calmly.

He hummed, like he was considering that answer more seriously than it deserved.

“So I’m special,” he said.

You glanced at him over the rim of your glass.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t deny it either,” he replied easily.

That earned him a quiet laugh from you, despite the fact that you were very aware of how quickly this conversation was slipping into something more comfortable than it probably should have been.

The bartender passed behind you both, wiping down the counter, but neither of you really acknowledged anything outside the space forming between your stools.

“I’m Y/n,” you said finally, as if deciding he had waited long enough to earn it.

Hollis repeated your name under his breath almost immediately, slower this time, like he was testing how it sounded in his own voice.

“Y/n,” he said again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That fits.”

You raised an eyebrow slightly. “Fits what exactly?”

He shrugged, leaning back a little as if the answer was obvious but he was choosing to enjoy making you ask.

You let out a small breath of amusement, shaking your head slightly.

“You say things like that a lot, don’t you?” you asked.

“Like what?”

“Vague things that sound like they mean more than they actually do.”

He looked genuinely thoughtful for a moment. “I think I just say what I notice,” he replied.

You studied him then, more carefully than before, as if that answer had moved him from “random guy at a bar” to something slightly harder to categorize.

The conversation should have felt like it was winding down at some point, like most interactions with strangers usually did. But instead, it kept unfolding, each answer leading into another question neither of you seemed in a rush to avoid.

At some point, you realized your drink was nearly gone.

You glanced down at the glass, slightly surprised you hadn’t noticed yourself finishing it.

“I should probably head back soon,” you said, mostly to yourself.

Hollis followed your gaze briefly, then looked back at you.

“Already?” he asked.

“It’s late,” you replied.

“That’s not really an answer,” he said.

You smiled slightly, setting your glass down.

“It is when you’re tired.”

He leaned forward a little, resting his forearms on the bar now, studying you in a way that felt less like flirting and more like he was trying to figure out whether you were serious.

“You don’t seem that tired,” he said.

“I hide it well,” you replied.

“Or you’re just not done yet,” he said.

That made you pause.

Not because it was profound, but because of how easily he said it, like he wasn’t trying to convince you of anything, just stating what he thought was true.

You tilted your head slightly.

“You don’t even know me,” you said.

“No,” he agreed calmly. “But I’m getting there.”

The way he said it wasn’t forceful or suggestive in an obvious way. It sounded more like a simple observation of time passing, like he fully expected that if you stayed here long enough, that statement would naturally become true.

That should have been irritating.

Instead, it stayed with you.

The bartender passed by again, and you hesitated for a moment before making a decision.

“Another drink?” he offered.

You opened your mouth to decline again, but Hollis spoke before you could.

“Let her have one more,” he said casually.

You turned to look at him immediately.

“I can speak for myself,” you said.

“I know,” he replied, completely unbothered. “But I also know you’re not actually leaving yet.”

That made your expression shift slightly, a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“You’re very confident for someone who just met me,” you said.

He smiled. “I’m observant, remember?”

You stared at him for a moment longer than necessary before turning back to the bar with a faint shake of your head.

“Fine,” you said. “One more.”

Hollis leaned back again like that outcome had been obvious from the start, while you tried not to think too hard about how easily you’d stayed.

And how little you actually wanted the night to end yet.

The bartender nodded and turned away to prepare your drink, leaving a brief stretch of quiet space between you and Hollis.

He didn’t rush to fill it immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his seat again, resting one arm loosely against the counter as if he was perfectly content sitting there without speaking.

It was a small detail, but it made him feel less like someone trying to impress you and more like someone who had no problem simply existing in the same moment as you.

You found yourself noticing that more than you expected.

“You always this calm?” you asked after a moment, glancing at him from the side.

He looked at you like the question amused him slightly.

“I don’t think I’m calm,” he said.

“What do you think you are then?” you asked.

He considered that for a second, eyes drifting briefly toward the ocean before returning to you.

“Patient,” he said finally.

That answer made you smile without meaning to.

“You’ve known me for like twenty minutes,” you said.

“I know,” he replied easily. “But I’m not in a rush.”

The bartender placed your drink in front of you, and you thanked him quietly before wrapping your fingers around the glass again. The cold condensation immediately grounded you, giving you something to focus on besides the conversation sitting beside you.

Still, Hollis’s words lingered in the back of your mind in a way you didn’t fully acknowledge.

You took a slow sip before speaking again.

“You’re from here?” you asked.

He shook his head.

“No,” he said. “Just staying here for a bit.”

“Vacation?” you asked.

“Something like that,” he replied.

You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. Instead, he just watched you for a second, like he was deciding whether or not to give more.

You tilted your head slightly.

“That’s very vague,” you said.

He smiled faintly.

“I know.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh through your nose.

“You’re kind of annoying,” you said, though there was no real edge to it.

“I’ve been told that too,” he replied.

“I believe it,” you said.

He nodded like that was fair.

The bar had grown even quieter now. A few stools down, someone laughed softly at something their friend said, and beyond that, the ocean rolled in steady, distant waves.

You found yourself glancing toward it for a second longer than you intended.

You finished your drink slower this time, setting the glass down with a quiet tap against the counter.

“I should go,” you said again, though it sounded less certain than before.

Hollis glanced at your empty glass, then back at you.

“You said that already,” he reminded you.

“I mean it this time,” you replied.

He nodded like he accepted that, though he didn’t move right away.

Instead, he just looked at you for a second longer, then finally he spoke.

“Let me walk you back,” he said.

The words were simple. Casual. Almost expected.

You should have said no immediately.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you hesitated just long enough for the silence to shift slightly between you.

“I can walk myself back,” you said finally.

“I’m sure you can,” he replied. “I still want to.”

That answer made you look at him more carefully.

There was no push in his voice. No insistence. Just certainty without pressure, like it wasn’t about whether you needed it, but whether he wanted to do it.

After a beat, you sighed softly and slid off the stool.

“Fine,” you said. “But don’t make it weird.”

A faint grin returned to his face immediately.

“No promises,” he said, standing as well.

He stepped slightly to the side, giving you space to lead, but then paused as if remembering something, and extended his hand.

And for reasons you didn’t fully feel like analyzing, you took it.

Hollis didn’t say anything immediately after you took his hand again. He simply adjusted his pace to match yours, and together you stepped away from the bar, leaving behind the warm glow of the counter and the low hum of conversation that had filled the space only moments before.

The night outside felt different the moment you left the open-air bar.

It was quieter in a way that made everything feel more personal. The resort pathways were lit by soft golden lights embedded into the ground, casting faint reflections across the stone and sand as you walked. Palm trees lined the paths on either side, their leaves shifting slowly in the warm breeze that carried the scent of saltwater and tropical flowers.

You were suddenly more aware of the fact that it was late.

Not because you were tired.

But because it was just the two of you now.

Hollis walked beside you without pulling ahead or falling behind. His hand still held yours loosely, not tightly enough to feel restrictive, but not absent enough to forget either.

“So,” he said after a few moments, his voice quieter now that the bar was behind you, “you always this selective with strangers, or did I get lucky?”

You glanced at him briefly before looking ahead again, letting your steps stay steady.

“I’m not selective,” you replied. “I’m just not easily entertained.”

That earned a small laugh from him, low and amused.

“Yeah,” he said, “I noticed.”

You shot him a quick sideways look.

“You noticed a lot for someone I met an hour ago.”

“Noticed enough,” he corrected.

The answer made you roll your eyes slightly, though the smile you were trying to hide didn’t fully cooperate.

The path curved gently, leading you on the path ahead and the glow of your villa area started to come into view. The resort felt even quieter here, almost private, like the rest of the world had been left behind somewhere near the bar.

The closer you got, the more the night seemed to settle around you, like it was gently reminding you that the moment was nearing its end.

You slowed as you reached your door.

Hollis slowed with you.

Neither of you let go immediately.

There was a pause that felt longer than it should have, like both of you were acknowledging without saying it that something about the night had shifted.

Finally, his hand slowly loosened first, like he was giving the moment back to you instead of taking it away.

You let your hand fall naturally to your side, though you were suddenly more aware of the absence than you expected to be.

“Well,” you said, glancing at your door, then back at him, “this is me.”

“I figured,” he replied.

There was a faint smile on his face, but it was quieter now. Less playful than before, more thoughtful in a way you couldn’t quite place.

“You should sleep,” he added.

You raised an eyebrow slightly. “That’s very considerate of you.”

“It’s observational,” he said, repeating the earlier word.

That made you smile despite yourself.

“Goodnight, Hollis,” you said.

He nodded once. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

You turned toward your door, but paused just before stepping inside. For a moment, you weren’t entirely sure why you stopped.

You just looked back.

Hollis was still standing there, not moving away immediately, not rushing the moment. Just watching for a second longer, as if making sure you actually went inside before leaving.

And somehow, that detail stayed with you longer than anything he had said all night.

Then you stepped inside and closed the door gently behind you.

The room was quiet when you entered, the soft hum of the air conditioning filling the space almost instantly. But even with the silence, your thoughts didn’t settle the way they usually did.

Because the night didn’t feel like it had ended the way nights normally do.

It felt like it had simply paused.

You exhaled slowly, almost like you were trying to reset yourself, and finally moved further into the room. You kicked off your wedges near the bed and let yourself fall back onto it for a moment without changing, staring up at the ceiling as if it might offer some kind of explanation for why a conversation you had planned to be meaningless now felt like it wasn’t.

It was annoying, really.

Eventually, you got up and changed properly for bed, though your movements were slower than before. When you finally slipped under the sheets, the room went quiet again in that heavy, uninterrupted way that only late nights can create.

You expected sleep to come easily after the travel and the long day.

It didn’t.

Instead, your mind replayed small fragments of the night in pieces you didn’t fully control. The sound of his voice saying your name. The way he looked at you when he wasn’t trying to make a joke. The brief weight of his hand in yours as you walked through the resort like the world around you didn’t matter.

Eventually, sleep found you anyway, though it didn’t feel like a decision.

☀︎༄.°

The sun against your face woke you slowly from your sleep, warm and gentle in a way that made it hard to fully separate dream from reality at first. You shifted in bed with a soft yawn, blinking a few times before you finally sat up and rubbed your face, still half-dazed as the morning settled in.

A loud knock came from your door.

It was sharp enough to cut through the haze, and the moment it did, the memories from the night before rushed back into you all at once. The bar. The walk. Hollis. Your thoughts paused for a second as you sat there, staring forward like your mind needed a moment to catch up to itself.

The knock came again, louder this time.

You got up quickly and crossed the room, opening the door to find Kate already standing there, fully dressed and far too awake for someone who had also just arrived at a resort after travel.

“Y/n!” she said immediately, stepping inside without waiting. “How long were you up last night? Go get ready right now.”

You sighed softly but didn’t argue, moving aside as she walked in like she belonged there. She immediately went to the speaker and turned on music, filling the room with sound that made everything feel less quiet, less like your thoughts had room to linger.

☀︎༄.°

The morning unfolded around you as you got ready, Kate talking nonstop in the background while you slowly shifted into the day. The resort outside was already bright and alive when you finally stepped out, sunlight reflecting off the water and stone paths, everything looking too perfect to feel entirely real.

It didn’t take long before you saw him.

Hollis was by the pool with a few friends, laughing and talking so relaxed and effortlessly in a way that didn’t try to pull attention but still somehow held it. And the second his eyes found yours, everything around him seemed to fade out just slightly, like the rest of the world had been pushed back without either of you moving.

Kate noticed immediately beside you.

“Y/n,” she said slowly, leaning in with a knowing look. “Who is that hot blond man that is staring at you?”

You broke eye contact first, turning slightly toward her as if that would reset your thoughts.

You lifted your drink and shrugged. “Some guy I met at the bar last night.”

Her reaction was instant, her eyes widening. “Is that why you went to bed late?”

You groaned lightly, shaking your head. “He was talking to me for a bit, then he walked me back to my room. That’s it. Nothing crazy happened.”

Kate looked at you like she didn’t believe a single word of that version of events.

“You totally want something to happen though,” she said.

Your head snapped toward her immediately. “As if. I met him less than twenty-four hours ago, Kate.”

She rolled her eyes like that detail didn’t matter at all. “We’re not in L.A. The rules don’t count here.”

That made you pause for half a second longer than you meant to.

Your gaze drifted back toward the pool before you could stop it.

Hollis was in the water now.

Shirtless.

You watched him for a moment longer than necessary, your fingers lightly resting against your glass as your attention stayed fixed without you fully admitting it. Then, as if he felt it, he glanced up and shot you a wink.

You looked away immediately, turning back to Kate like nothing had happened, though your expression didn’t fully match your voice.

“Do you really think so?” you asked quietly.

Kate didn’t even hesitate. “You know what makes a vacation better? A hot man to fuck during it.”

You groaned and leaned your head back slightly. “Fuck, you’re right.”

The realization settled between you both for a moment, and then you both burst into laughter, like the idea itself was ridiculous even though neither of you fully treated it like a joke.

☀︎༄.°

The rest of the day passed easily.

A trip to the beach, a massage, a few drinks that made everything feel softer and slower, and constant moments where your eyes kept drifting back to Hollis without you meaning them to. Sometimes he was closer, sometimes farther, but he always felt present in a way that didn’t fully leave your awareness.

By the time the sun began to set again, the resort had shifted into evening.

You were back in your room now, standing in front of the mirror as you touched up your makeup, deepening it slightly for the night. You changed into a mini black lace two-piece that felt simple but intentional, like it belonged to the version of you that existed after sunset rather than during the day.

A knock came at your patio doors.

When you opened the blinds, Hollis was standing there.

He had changed too, now wearing a silk black button-up that hung slightly open at the top. He looked at you for a moment without speaking, his gaze moving over you slowly, taking his time, before he let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“You look gorgeous,” he said.

You didn’t hesitate. “I know, Hollis.”

His mouth twitched slightly, like he was amused but trying not to show it too much.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” he said.

You leaned lightly against the doorframe, completely steady as you looked up at him.

“Get used to it,” you replied.

Then he stepped closer, not fully inside, but close enough that the space between you shifted.

“You barely know me, Y/n,” he said quietly.

The way he said your name lingered a little longer this time.

Then he added, just as calmly, “You like that, don’t you? You don’t know a goddamn thing about me — yet you still want to keep me around.”

You let out a soft laugh, controlled but sharp enough to respond.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Wanting to use you for a week and wanting to keep you around are two different things.”

That made him pause slightly.

Just long enough to register it.

Then he scoffed lightly, though it didn’t carry frustration.

“Brat,” he said again.

You fake-pouted slightly. “That hurt your feelings?”

He extended his hand again. “Come. Don’t fight me.”

You hesitated only briefly before taking it.

And the second your fingers met his again, it felt exactly like before.

He led you out of your room without another word, and the resort outside had fully shifted into evening.

You walked beside him naturally, your steps falling into his without effort.

After a moment, you glanced up at him.

“Dinner is going to close soon,” you said.

He didn’t look at you when he answered. “I got something better than dinner for you, girl.”

You turned your head slightly to look at him as you walked, trying to read his expression, but Hollis wasn’t looking at you. His focus stayed forward, completely unbothered, as if whatever he had planned was already settled in his mind and you were simply following the direction it was going.

The words should have sounded vague. They should have made you slow down, question him, maybe even push back.

Instead, something in the way he said it made your attention sharpen.

Your eyes widened just slightly before you caught yourself, and you suppressed the reaction quickly, letting it turn instead into something closer to a smirk you didn’t fully admit to.

“Oh yeah?” you said, your voice lighter now, but with a shift in energy that even you couldn’t ignore.

That small change was enough.

Your steps subtly quickened behind him without you needing to think about it, like your body had already decided to follow before your mind fully signed off on it.

Hollis noticed, of course.

Not in a way that made him stop or look back, but in the faintest shift of his hand around yours, his grip tightening just slightly as he guided you forward through the resort.

You didn’t ask where he was taking you.

Not yet.

The confidence in his pace made it feel unnecessary.

Eventually, he led you to a different section of the resort. The buildings here were similar in design to yours, but quieter, more tucked away, with fewer people passing through and less sound drifting between the walkways. It felt like a mirrored version of where you had come from, just more isolated.

He stopped in front of one of the rooms.

His hand didn’t leave yours as he reached forward, unlocking the door and stepping inside first, pulling you in with him without hesitation. The moment you crossed the threshold, the outside noise softened instantly, replaced by the quiet, enclosed calm of the room.

It looked almost identical to yours.

Clean, minimal, dimly lit in a way that made everything feel slower the second you were inside.

Hollis didn’t say anything for a beat.

He simply stepped further in with you, then reached back toward the door.

With one smooth motion, he flipped the “Do Not Disturb” sign.

The small click of the lock followed right after.

And only then did he turn slightly back toward you, still holding your hand, like nothing about the situation needed to be explained out loud.

He slid his hand away from yours and settled it firmly on your waist, drawing you in until his body pressed flush against you. Then he pulled back, circling around to the mini fridge.

He grabbed a chilled bottle of champagne and two glasses, pouring without a word. You moved closer as he handed you a glass. You both drank in silence, the bubbles sharp on your tongue while heat coiled low in your belly.

He set his glass down and stepped in again, fingers gripping your chin to tilt your face up. “Tell me, y/n… have you been a good girl today, or a bad girl?”

Your lips parted, but his hold tightened. “Don’t lie.”

You swallowed hard. “Bad,” you whispered.

“Louder.”

“Bad. I’ve been a bad girl.”

He exhaled through his nose, thumb stroking your cheek before he walked you backward until the bed pressed against your thighs. “Do you know what happens to bad girls?”

You shook your head.

“Do you want to find out?”

The smile that curved your mouth was answer enough. His palm settled on top of your head and pushed down. “On your knees.”

You dropped to the wooden floor, the impact sending a small jolt through your legs. You rubbed your cheek against the growing bulge in his pants, earning a low curse from him.

He unbuckled and shoved his pants down, then you hooked your fingers into his boxers and dragged them off slowly, revealing the sharp cut of his hips. His cock sprang free and slapped lightly against your face. You whined at the weight of it.

Both hands wrapped around his shaft, but he clicked his tongue. “Top off. I want to see those pretty tits.”

You stripped from the waist up without hesitation, then looked up at him as you took his cock into your mouth. He groaned, hips twitching as your tongue pressed along the underside.

You worked him deeper, gagging when the head hit the back of your throat, spit running down your chin. You pulled off with a gasp, then licked a slow circle around the tip before sucking it back between your lips, hands stroking the rest of his length.

“Just like that,” he growled. “Fuck.”

His thighs tensed. He pulled out of your mouth and stepped back. You wiped the mix of spit and precum from your lips with two fingers and sucked them clean. He shook his head, eyes dark.

Lay back," he ordered.

"On the floor?"

He gave a single nod. "Good girls get fucked on beds. Bad girls get pounded on the floor. Understand?"

You swallowed. "I understand."

You eased down onto the cold wooden planks, the chill racing up your spine. He moved over you, eyes locked on yours, then yanked your skirt down in one motion and ripped your panties away. The sudden exposure pulled a sharp gasp from your throat. He only smiled, sweet and dangerous.

Reaching behind you, he grabbed a condom from the drawer, tore it open, and rolled it down his rigid cock. His gaze searched your face for any hesitation. Finding none, he leaned in and kissed you, both of you humming into it. His mouth trailed along your jaw, down your neck, and to your ear while his cock slid along your wet folds.

"You’ve been bad," he murmured, "but you’re going to take every inch like a good girl."

You whimpered. "Okay…"

"Louder."

"Okay!"

He thrust in halfway. Your breath caught, then broke into a whimper. "You good?" he asked.

You nodded.

"Halfway, baby."

Your eyes widened. He chuckled, then pushed the rest of the way in, slow and deliberate. A long, broken moan tore from your throat. He cursed under his breath and held still, buried deep.

"So fucking tight," he groaned. "So warm."

Your fingers slid into his long golden hair and dragged his mouth back to yours.

Hollis's chest pressed down onto yours, his weight pinning you to the cold floor. His hips rolled, driving his cock in and out in slow, deliberate strokes that let you feel every inch stretching you open. Once your body loosened around him, his pace shifted. He slammed into you harder, each thrust jolting your spine against the wood.

You cried out, the sound raw. Hollis sank his teeth into the side of your neck, biting down until you whined. The sharp sting blended with the deep ache of his cock pounding you, fogging your thoughts.

He fucked you faster, his hips snapping forward without mercy. Your nails raked across his back, leaving red lines that welled with blood. A droplet slid down his arm. You gasped at the sight.

"F-fuck," you moaned.

His rhythm never faltered. "Still being a bad girl?"

"I'm sorry!" you choked out.

He scoffed. One hand slid up your chest, thumb circling and pinching your nipples until they stiffened under his touch. His palm continued upward and wrapped around your throat.

His fingers tightened, cutting off your air just enough to make your pulse hammer. You gasped, eyes wide, as he drove into you even harder. His cock hammered that spot inside you that made your vision spark.

"Right there—fuck, Hollis, right there!"

His grip on your neck clamped down harder. Tears spilled from the corners of your eyes.

"Cum on my cock while I choke you out, baby. You like that?"

You nodded frantically, voice breaking. "I love it!"

He groaned, his thrusts turning erratic. "Not just a bad girl—you're a fucking slut. My fucking slut."

You nodded again, mindless, pleasure cresting until your stomach clenched tight. Your head tipped back and a loud moan tore from your throat. Your pussy spasmed around him, squeezing and pulsing as you soaked his cock and the floor beneath you. Hollis buried himself to the hilt, groaning as he emptied into the condom, his body shuddering against yours.

You slump against the cool tile floor, your chest heaving as your eyes flutter shut, trying to catch your breath. The air in the room feels thick, charged with the lingering electricity of what just happened. Hollis slowly releases his grip on your throat, his fingers leaving faint, fading imprints on your skin.

Without a word, he immediately leans down, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to the exact spot his hand just vacated, as if apologizing with his lips.

"Was that okay?" he murmurs softly, his breath warm against your collarbone.

You nod weakly, your fingers finding their way back into his damp hair, tugging him slightly closer. Hollis lets out a low breath and allows himself to fully relax against you for a second, his heavy frame a comforting weight.

He kisses his way up your jawline, trailing fire along your skin until he reaches your lips for one more slow, bruising kiss before abruptly rising from the floor.

"Hollis, what are you doing—"

Your question is cut short as his strong arms slide under your knees and back, scooping you up into his chest in one fluid motion. A sharp ache ripples through your overstimulated body, causing you to wince and bury your face in his neck, but you willingly ignore the soreness as he carries you down the short hallway and into the bathroom.

He sets you down on the edge of the marble counter. Your legs feel like jelly, and you have to grip the edge of the sink just to keep yourself upright while he reaches into the shower to turn the water on. The hiss of pipes echoes in the space, and steam quickly begins to fog up the mirror. Within seconds, Hollis turns back to you. You instinctively wrap your legs tightly around his waist as he lifts you again, stepping over the threshold and into the big glass shower.

The blast of warm water cascades over your shoulders, immediately soaking your hair and washing away the tight tension in your muscles. Hollis sways you slowly in his hold under the downpour, letting the spray rinse the evidence of your intense connection down the drain.

"I want you again," you whisper against his ear, your lips brushing his wet skin, emboldened by the heat of the shower.

Hollis pauses his swaying, a low chuckle vibrating in his chest. "You’re sore," he tells you, his voice thick with a mix of amusement and concern.

You shake your head stubbornly against his shoulder. "I’m serious, Hollis." You pull back, wiping the water from your eyes so you can look him dead in the face.

"You won’t be able to walk properly tomorrow," he warns, a wicked smirk finally tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You match his look with a challenge of your own. "Good thing I don’t have anywhere to be."

He stares at you for a long, heavy beat, his dark eyes darkening further under the pulsing water. Carefully, he lets your legs slide down his body until your feet touch the wet tile floor. Your knees give out slightly from the sudden weight, and he catches your waist, chuckling softly as you stabilize yourself.

He gently guides your hips, prompting you to bend forward. You press both palms flat against the slick glass door for support, your fingers sliding slightly against the condensation.

He steps flush against your back, his thighs pressing into the backs of yours. You feel him — already completely hard again — teasing your entrance, the blunt head of his length frictioning against you.

"Fuck, let me go get another condom," he mutters against your neck, his hands sliding off your hips as he makes a move to step out of the streaming water.

Before he can step away, you reach back blindly and catch his forearm, your grip tight. When he stops and looks down at you through the steam, you look over your shoulder and simply shake your head. Hollis raises a single, questioning eyebrow, a silent question passing between you, but he doesn't argue.

Pressing his chest hard against your back again, he traps you against the glass. He guides the tip to your opening, and with the heavy cascade of water acting as a natural lubricant, he pushes forward. He slips all the way inside you in one smooth, agonizingly deep stroke.

A breathless, echoing moan escapes your lips as he bottoms out, your forehead resting against the cool glass door. His movements are heavy and deliberate, slower than before but packed with a grueling intensity.

His large hands grip your hips, fingers digging in to anchor you as he pulls back and drives in again. He watches with hooded eyes how your body reacts, the water making your skin glisten with every deep, rhythmic thrust. He leans forward, pressing his lips to the curve of your spine, and the shift in his weight drives him even deeper inside you.

Your moans slip out in rapid succession, bouncing off the tiled walls. At this point, you don't care how loud you're being. Sensing your undoing, Hollis's pace begins to quicken, his thrusts becoming sharper, harder.

His right hand slides down from your hip, slipping between your thighs until his fingers find your swollen clit. Pulling your upper body back until your spine is flush against his chest, he traps you in his embrace while his fingers begin to rub the sensitive nub in tight, urgent circles. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably under the dual stimulation, the overwhelming friction inside and out turning your body to jello.

"Oh—shit!" you whimper, your fingers clawing at him as the tight coil in your stomach tightens to a breaking point.

"I’m gonna cum, baby. I need you to cum for me," Hollis growls in your ear, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving violently against your back.

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your gaze rolling back until your eyes lock onto his. He watches you with a fierce, possessive intensity, his hips and fingers working in perfect, cruel synchronization.

"Such a good girl for me," he praises, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.

You moan loudly, refusing to break eye contact for even a fraction of a second as your walls suddenly clench, your body completely coming undone and convulsing around him in a violent orgasm.

The sensation triggers him instantly. He fucks you hard through the tight pulses of your release before quickly pulling out, painting your lower back with his own warm release just as the water washes it away.

Eventually, the water runs a little cooler. You both finish washing up, the quiet routine filled with soft touches, before wrapping yourselves in plush towels and stepping back out into the cool air of the bedroom.

"I should probably head back to my room," you say, a sudden wave of hesitation washing over you as you look at his large bed.

Hollis stops mid-stride, his brows furrowing into a deep frown. "What? You’re not going anywhere tonight."

Your heartbeat picks up a frantic, happy rhythm, a small, involuntary smile taking over your face. "You want me to stay?"

He rolls his eyes playfully at the question, suddenly lunging forward. You let out a genuine shriek of surprise as he scoops you up once more, tossing you gently onto the mattress. The springs squeak loudly beneath your weight, and before you can even sit up, he climbs on top of you, pinning your legs with his thighs.

"Of course I want you to stay," he murmurs, his expression softening as he looks down at you.

You giggle, reaching up to frame his face, but your laughter is cut short as his lips crash onto yours in a deep, lazy kiss.

BANG. BANG.

A sharp, aggressive knock suddenly echoes from the front door, cutting through the quiet room. You both freeze instantly, your breath catching in your throats. Hollis stays suspended over you, his eyes wide. Another heavy knock sounds, louder this time. Neither of you dares to breathe, let alone move.

Then, a muffled, incredibly pissed-off voice cuts straight through the wood: "Can you keep it fucking down? You already woke like three of us up!"

The sound of heavy, furious footsteps immediately follows, fading down the hallway as the angry woman marches back to her own room.

For a second, the room is dead silent. Then, you clamp both hands tightly over your mouth, a breathless laugh of pure, panicked disbelief bubbling out of you. Hollis lets out a sharp snort, his shoulders shaking, and within seconds, the tension breaks. You both burst into a quiet, hysterical laughing fit, buried against each other to muffle the sound.

Once the giggles finally die down into tired sighs, you both kick off the damp towels and crawl under the heavy covers. Hollis pulls you flush against his chest, your bare bodies tangling together under the sheets, finally settling in for the rest of the night.

☀︎༄.°

2hollis x fem!reader

☆ On a day where the both of you don’t work, you spend it having a lazy day in at Hollis’ house.

disclaimer: read diewithme and starfall before this! and probably some of the other oneshots for better context but its not required

tags: midwest!hollis, domestic vibes, taking a bath together, slightly weird and offputting/pervert mw hollis returns, couch sex, creampie, p in v, lowkey footjob? very brief lol, fluff and smut

w/c: 2k

a/n: i miss mw hollis so here’s a smutty domestic one shot lmao. as usual no talking/screenshotting this fic outside of tumblr thank u

taglist: @fatalfairie @holilove @sayitagain22 @222foryou222 @tellmeimsafe @ang3l0fd3ath22 @wakeuppfilthy @aisforarii @stellalaylas @catmeowsstuff @voidatelier @2lilaclace @bloodshotbastard @hollisedd @girl2bad @luvvconceal @gnariii @warhorseweekend @sweet2sin @sqddleagain @2drea @natesibsdih @angelrazor6000 @qiyokuliife @mageterna1111 @vlnt2kiss @fakeeminkk @romansbbg @zorixchi

2hollis x fem!reader

☆ On a day where the both of you don’t work, you spend it having a lazy day in at Hollis’ house.

disclaimer: read diewithme and starfall before this! and probably some of the other oneshots for better context but its not required

tags: midwest!hollis, domestic vibes, taking a bath together, slightly weird and offputting/pervert mw hollis returns, couch sex, creampie, p in v, lowkey footjob? very brief lol, fluff and smut

w/c: 2k

a/n: i miss mw hollis so here’s a smutty domestic one shot lmao. as usual no talking/screenshotting this fic outside of tumblr thank u

taglist: @fatalfairie @holilove @sayitagain22 @222foryou222 @tellmeimsafe @ang3l0fd3ath22 @wakeuppfilthy @aisforarii @stellalaylas @catmeowsstuff @voidatelier @2lilaclace @bloodshotbastard @hollisedd @girl2bad @luvvconceal @gnariii @warhorseweekend @sweet2sin @sqddleagain @2drea @natesibsdih @angelrazor6000 @qiyokuliife @mageterna1111 @vlnt2kiss @fakeeminkk @romansbbg @zorixchi

OUT OF FRAME

2hollis x fem!reader smutshot ! mdni

about: your older brother is one of 2hollis closest friends. so when he invites him to his songwriting camp, you end up tagging along after recently getting into photography. your brother is ridiculously protective and barely lets you out of his sight. one evening, hollis casually says: "i'm borrowing your sister for a bit. we still need a few shots by the ocean." nobody thinks anything of it. after all, you're just the little sister.

-

you've always had an eye for aesthetics. for the beautiful things. for finding the perfect angle. for knowing exactly how to capture a moment in a way that makes people feel like they were there.

you'd heard that compliment your whole life. and only recently, you finally worked up the courage to take photography seriously.

"this is your chance!" your brother had said, almost too excited for your own good. his idea? you'd tag along to 2hollis upcoming songwriting camp.

"get some good shots and your name will spread on its own."

he wasn't wrong. it was an incredible opportunity. which was exactly why you couldn't understand why hollis would ever agree to it.

surely he'd rather have someone with actual experience. someone who knew what they were doing. not... his best friends little sister.

but to your surprise, hollis didn't hesitate for a second. the moment your brother brought it up, he was on board. 

so now you were spending a week on an island, surrounded by nothing but ocean, watching a house full of producers and creative directors turn inspiration into something real. your only job? capturing it all.

-

it was already day three.

half the house was still asleep while you were already up, plugging camera batteries into their chargers one by one.

yesterday had been intense.

songwriting sessions that seemed to go on forever. lyric sheets scattered across every table. half finished drinks. notebooks full of crossed out ideas. a complete mess.

but somehow it still worked. you never realized how much went into making music.

-

"did you sleep well?" your brother's voice came from behind as he stepped through the glass sliding door. he brushed a hand over your shoulder before stopping beside you. you turned around, still looking a little sleepy and smiled.

"yeah. you?" his eyes narrowed for just a second. "you look tired." he paused. "you were alone last night, right?" you immediately nudged him with your elbow. "obviously, idiot. what do you think?" his jaw relaxed again. "just asking."

you rolled your eyes. "the way you patrol around me 24/7, nobody would even dare try anything. besides..." you shrugged. "…none of them are even my type."

that finally earned you a satisfied nod. he leaned against the counter. "i slept well too. let's see how much we get done today."

-

he was the best brother you could've asked for, but he was also the most overprotective person on the planet. that's just how your brother was. 

it didn't matter who the guy was. older. nicer. richer. none of them were ever good enough for his little sister.

and whenever there were too many guys around you, something inside him switched. he noticed every lingering glance. every smile that lasted a little too long. every excuse to stand just a little closer.

he'd make sure nobody ever got the chance to fill your head with the wrong ideas.

-

a little later, already on your second coffee, you sat curled up on one of the sofas by the pool, editing yesterday's photos on your laptop.

the glass door slid open behind you once again. "morning, little one." it was hollis voice. low, still rough from sleep. you looked up.

like every other morning, he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose gray sweatpants. "did you leave all your shirts at home or-"

he glanced down at himself with an amused smile. "you could always borrow me one of your crop tops." - "oh, i'd love to see you in that!" you replied sarcastically.

he let out a quiet laugh before disappearing back inside to help the other guys get everything ready for today's session.

-

...hollis.

he was the one friend of your brother's you'd break every rule for without thinking twice.

he was tall. ridiculously attractive. broad shoulders and long dark hair that caught warm, almost blond highlights whenever the sun hit it just right.

and his eyes. whenever he talked to you, they never seemed to leave yours, as if he was saying one thing while meaning another. it wasn’t uncomfortable. if anything, it made your stomach flutter in a way you hated how much you loved.

even his voice had that effect on you. especially when he called you little one or simply said your name.

but he was completely out of reach.

first, because he was your brother’s best friend. he knew the rules just as well as everyone else. besides, everyone treated you like the little sister. it was all too familiar for anyone to ever cross that line.

and second, someone like hollis could have anyone he wanted. girls threw themselves at him without him even trying. so why would he ever look twice at you?

-

by the afternoon the house had finally come alive.

someone was testing a new beat through the speakers while two producers argued over a melody in the kitchen. 

lyric sheets covered the dining table once again. empty coffee cups, tangled headphones and laptops everywhere.

you wandered between everyone with your camera, catching little moments nobody else seemed to notice.

someone laughing with their head thrown back. fingers drumming absentmindedly against a countertop. hollis sitting crosslegged on the couch, completely lost in whatever he was writing.

"hold that." he didn’t even look up. you lifted the camera. click. perfect.

a few minutes later, everyone slowly gathered outside by the pool for a break.

you were scrolling through the photos on your camera when an idea crossed your mind.

"actually..." you looked up. "if we're putting together a vlog for the camp, we should definitely get some shots down by the ocean later. it'd fit the whole vibe."

a few heads turned. 

"the light around sunset would look insane." one of the creative directors nodded immediately. "she’s right."

before anyone else could answer, nate leaned back in his chair with a grin. "i mean…" his eyes landed on you. "i’d always be down to shoot in the ocean with you.“

a few quiet laughs spread around the table. your stomach tightened. before you could even think of a response:

"watch it." your brother didn’t even raise his voice. he just looked at nate. the smile disappeared from his face almost instantly.

"i was joking man." - "doesn’t matter." the conversation around the table had already gone quiet. then hollis spoke. calm. almost amused. "nate." he finally looked up from his notebook. "you know the rules."

"see?" your brother pointed toward him without taking his eyes off nate. "take notes from hollis. he’s been around my sister for three days and hasn’t acted weird once."

"exactly," hollis said. his expression didn’t change. not even a little. "wouldn’t dream of it."

everyone seemed satisfied enough with that. someone changed the subject. the conversation picked back up almost immediately. your brother was already busy talking to someone else about tonight’s session.

for a moment everything felt normal again. then you felt it. a gaze. so intense it almost seemed to burn against your skin. when you finally looked up, your eyes met hollis instantly. it almost startled you.

he wasn't just glancing your way. he was looking at you, really looking at you. there was something behind it. a message you couldn't quite put into words.

he caught the uncertainty on your face. then he winked. a crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned back toward the group as if nothing had happened.

nobody noticed. he knew they wouldn't. he knew exactly what he'd just done to you. and with one tiny gesture, everything he'd said only seconds earlier

wouldn't dream of it.

suddenly felt meaningless. because if he really wouldn´t dream of it, why did that wink feel like a secret only the two of you were supposed to understand?

-

after the break everyone had slipped right back into work mode. the energy around the house shifted almost instantly.

producers disappeared behind laptops, melodies echoed from different rooms, conversations turned into discussions about lyrics and arrangements. everyone seemed locked in on the same goal: 

making the best music they possibly could before the week was over.

those were your favorite moments to photograph. nothing was staged. nobody was posing. it was just people completely consumed by what they loved.

well. everyone except your brother. he'd managed to check out completely, sprawled across one of the couches, mindlessly scrolling through tiktok. every few seconds another obnoxious sound blasted through the room.

after about five minutes, hollis finally looked up from his laptop with an exhausted sigh. "you're actually useless." without another word, he stood up, walked over and dropped a pair of airpods onto your brother's chest. "please."

your brother snorted, slipped them in and immediately disappeared back into his own little world. you couldn't help laughing. the moment was too good. you lifted your camera. click.

your brother looking completely unbothered while hollis visibly regretted inviting him.

"what?" you looked up. hollis had heard you laugh. "that picture," you grinned "should be your next album cover." he laughed under his breath. "let me see."

before you could answer, he was already walking over. he stopped beside you. closer than he needed to. his shoulder brushed yours as you lifted the camera between you.

without thinking, you turned the screen toward him. he leaned in. close enough that a few loose strands of his hair brushed against your cheek.

close enough that you caught the familiar scent of expensive cologne mixed with cigarettes and the faint warmth of sun on his skin. it smelled... like hollis.

"here." you opened the photo. he laughed quietly. "that's actually iconic." instead of handing the camera back, he casually took it from your hands to scroll through the rest himself.

your fingers brushed. only for a second. at least that's what should've happened. for some reason it felt longer. your eyes instinctively flicked toward your brother. still glued to his phone. still completely oblivious and technically nothing inappropriate had happened.

hollis kept scrolling. then stopped. it was one of the photos from earlier that morning. shirtless. a cigarette resting between his fingers, phone in the other hand, brows slightly furrowed as he'd read something on the screen. the sunlight hit him perfectly. almost unfairly.

he let out a quiet breath. "damn." his eyes stayed on the screen. "you're actually really fucking good at this, y/n" heat crept into your cheeks. "thank you."

this time, when you looked up, he was already looking at you. his eyes dropped. just for a heartbeat. to your lips. before returning to yours. there it was again. that same impossible tension. he wasn't touching you. he wasn't even saying anything.

yet somehow it felt wrong that your brother was only a few feet away. your gaze darted back toward him. still distracted. still not paying attention. hollis noticed. he tilted his head slightly. "worried about crossing his boundaries?"

your eyes widened. "what? no, i just..." you stumbled over your own words. he smiled. small. knowing. "if there was nothing to worry about," he said quietly, handing the camera back "you wouldn't keep checking." you blinked. "excuse me?"

he didn't answer right away. instead he glanced toward your brother. still completely occupied. then his hand found your waist. gentle. careful. his fingertips barely rested against you. but it was enough.

every muscle in your body tensed. your heartbeat slammed against your ribs. the air suddenly felt warmer. your eyes dropped to his hand. to the fact that it was actually there. against you.

before you could fully process it he let go again. his gaze lifted back to your face. your flushed cheeks. your wide pupils. your lips, slightly parted. he saw everything. every reaction. every answer.

a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. his voice was almost playful. "thought so." heat rushed to your face. "wha-" - "relax." his voice was calm. "your secret's safe with me."

you felt completely caught. you hadn't admitted a single thing. had barely said a word. and yet somehow, you couldn't deny any of it. he'd read you far too easily.

that same selfassured smile lingered on his lips while all you could do was stare back at him, almost in disbelief. he held your gaze for another second longer before giving a small nod.

"gotta get back to work." and just like that, he turned around and sat back down at his laptop, leaving you there with your camera still clutched against your chest and a truth you'd never intended to reveal.

you never thought it would get this far. but now it was too late. this wasn't over.

the tension inside the room had become almost unbearable. you mumbled something about getting some fresh air before slipping outside.

your brother was still lying on the couch. completely oblivious. if only he knew what had just happened right in front of him.

-

on purpose, you spent the next hour with the other producers. you needed the distance. needed time to process whatever had just happened. because what?

how had hollis suddenly gotten so close? how had one look, one touch, been enough to make you question everything you'd convinced yourself was impossible?

you sat outside with everyone else, the chairs pushed together around the table while you transferred the photos from your camera onto your laptop.

everyone was doing their own thing. until one of the producers finally broke the silence.

"guys, i'm starving." he stretched his arms over his head. "can we call it a break and make some food or something?" a chorus of agreement followed almost instantly.

"thank god." nate groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "i'm actually dying." - "same." you laughed. "best idea anyone's had all day."

right on cue the glass door slid open. your brother stepped outside first, hollis followed a second later. "what?" your brother grinned "i heard food." without missing a beat, hollis smacked the back of his head. "you haven't done a single thing."

your brother rubbed the back of his head dramatically. "doesn't matter." he pointed at you. "one productive sibling is enough." you looked up just long enough to raise your middle finger at him. he only laughed.

"so..." the producer looked around the table. "food?" everyone nodded.

before anyone could get up, hollis casually rested a hand on your brother's shoulder. "i'm borrowing your sister for a bit." your fingers froze above your keyboard. "we still need a few shots by the ocean." he glanced toward the horizon. "sun's gonna be down soon. doesn't make much sense after that."

then his eyes found yours. only for a second. but it was enough. your stomach flipped instantly. this wasn't about the photos. this was about finally being alone. before you could even answer-

"ocean?" nate pushed himself to his feet immediately. "hell yeah, i'm coming too. i still need a few shots." for the first time all afternoon, something shifted in hollis expression. barely. his jaw tightened.

"nate." your brother sighed, walked over and grabbed him by the shoulder before gently pushing him back down into his chair. "sit." a few laughs spread around the table.

"look," your brother said with a grin. "i like you. i really do. but after that little comment earlier..." he shook his head "you're the last person i'm sending to the beach with my sister."

nate threw both hands into the air. "seriously?" he pointed across the patio. "but he gets to go?" his finger landed on hollis. "pretty boy over there?"

your brother didn't even hesitate. "he's known her for years and he's never given me a reason not to trust him." he nodded toward you. "besides, she's here to work. that's literally all this is."

hollis stayed quiet the entire time. he didn't defend himself. didn't add a single word. he simply waited. only you noticed the tension disappear from his jaw.

"ready?" he finally looked at you. you nodded. "yeah. let me grab my camera bag." - "take your time." he looked back at your brother. "we'll be back before dinner." - "don't rush." your brother waved him off. "get the shots while the light's good." - "will do."

then hollis looked at you one last time. not long enough for anyone else to notice. just long enough for that familiar feeling to settle deep in your stomach again. because you knew exactly what he'd really meant when he said he was borrowing you.

-

ten minutes later, the two of you met again by the front entrance. while you'd simply tied your hair back into a ponytail and thrown your camera bag over your shoulder, hollis looked completely different.

he'd changed into a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt. but it was his makeup that caught your attention first. black eyeliner framed his eyes, smudged with deep red eyeshadow underneath. he looked like the kind of villain people couldn't help falling in love with. and he wasted absolutely no time using that first impression.

he stepped closer. close enough to tower over you. "ready, little one?" your brain went completely blank. "uhm..." you swallowed. "y-yeah. sure."

his hand suddenly moved toward you. your eyes followed it instinctively. only to realize he wasn't reaching for you. he was taking your camera bag off your shoulder. "come on." he said casually, slinging it over his own shoulder. "let's go."

-

the walk down to the ocean only took about twelve minutes. you stayed beside him the entire way, hands tucked into your pockets, your heartbeat refusing to slow down.

it still didn't feel real. in the span of a single afternoon, everything between the two of you had changed.

"good thing nate didn't come." his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. you looked up. "i mean..." you shrugged "i would've taken pictures of him too. i didn't mind."

hollis let out a quiet hum. "he wasn't the problem." you slowed to a stop. "what do you mean?"

he stopped a few steps ahead before turning back toward you. one corner of his mouth lifted. "he would've gotten in the way." - "of what?"

for a second, he just looked at you. that same unreadable expression. then he smiled. "the shoot."

right. except his eyes said something completely different. you rolled your eyes, trying far too hard to ignore the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

"and my brother thinks you're the responsible one." a quiet laugh escaped him. "oh, i could prove him right." you frowned. "or very, very wrong." before he could finish the thought, you bumped your elbow into his side. "idiot."

-

by the time you reached the ocean, you felt almost dizzy from the tension.

the two of you tried to act like nothing had changed, but neither of you could deny how intense your glances had become. how tense your bodies felt. how wet your panties had gotten and how his jeans fit just a little tighter than before.

both of you were simply waiting for the moment everything finally snapped.

"this looks like a good spot." he nodded. "yeah. you've got a good eye." he handed you your camera bag before slipping off his shoes and making his way toward the water.

you shook your head. "are you insane?" he only called back over his shoulder. "trust me." a small grin tugged at his lips. "i know what i'm doing."

of course he did. he always knew exactly what he was doing. and now, with the two of you finally alone, more than ever.

you adjusted your camera settings, completely focused on getting everything right. but the moment you looked up again, you almost forgot how to breathe. there he was.

his white shirt completely soaked, clinging to every inch of his broad frame. the wet fabric traced every muscle beneath it. water glistened on his skin, the ends of his long hair soaked from the ocean.

"better?" hollis asked, looking at you through those dark eyes, framed by smudged black liner and deep red shadow. the sight alone sent a shiver through your entire body.

"y-yeah." you cleared your throat "i get your vision now." - "see?" he sounded far too pleased with himself. like he'd known exactly how hard this would be for you. like the white shirt had been part of the plan all along.

you lifted your camera and started taking photos. he posed without needing any direction, his eyes never really leaving the lens... or you. and he enjoyed every second of it. all under the perfectly innocent excuse that the two of you were simply there to take pictures.

-

after a few more shots, he suddenly called out: "wait." you lowered your camera and looked at him, confused. if this had already been torture, it got so much worse.

the six-foot-something man slowly brought his large, veiny, wet hands to the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head, revealing his body inch by inch.

you already knew what he looked like. but this felt like your own private show. like a gift slowly unwrapping itself right in front of you. a gift that had always been at the very top of your wishlist.

you caught yourself biting your lip before quickly looking away, suddenly embarrassed.

"you okay?" his voice was gentle. almost as if he had no idea what he was doing to you. "i'm fine." you answered a little too quickly before lifting your camera again.

but even through the lens it didn't get any easier. his jeans sat low on his hips, the waistband of his white boxers peeking out beneath them.

you looked a little closer, as subtly as you possibly could. your eyes caught the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

before you could stop yourself, your gaze instinctively followed it lower, wondering just how much more was hidden beneath the denim. god. focus.

hollis noticed the way your posture had changed. the way your hands trembled ever so slightly around the camera.

"and that's exactly why nate would've been in the way." he knew. this was the moment. and the second you heard those words, you knew it too. there was no going back now.

"hollis..." you asked carefully "what are you doing?" he stayed where he was, the water moving gently around his hips, small waves splashing against his lower abs.

"you already know, y/n." his voice was calm "we've got enough pictures." his eyes stayed locked on yours "put the camera down." your heart stopped. "...what?"

a dark smile spread across his face before he slowly started walking toward you. water streamed down his body. from his neck, over his chest, down the defined lines of his abs, before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

before you could fully process what was happening, he was standing right in front of you. his hands gently wrapped around your camera. you let go without thinking. he carefully set it aside for you. then he stepped closer.

his wet hair dripped onto your skin, sending goosebumps racing across your arms. "i've been wondering when this moment would finally happen." his voice was quiet. steady. 

his hands found your waist again. but this time they weren't teasing. they weren't careful. they held you with certainty. he pulled you closer. your breath caught.

"the moment for what?" he looked away for a second with an amused smile, as if you couldn't possibly be serious. "i've seen the way you look at me." his eyes found yours again. "for a while now." his thumb slowly brushed against your side. "and i knew the second i noticed..." he smiled. "...that i needed you like this."

your knees felt weak. "hollis..." you barely managed to whisper. "this isn't a good idea." - "i know." he answered quietly. you felt the last word against your lips as he closed the distance between you.

the kiss started slow. careful. almost as if he was giving you one last chance to pull away. but the second your fingers slipped into his damp hair, it deepened.

he pulled your body flush against his. a quiet groan escaped him into the kiss. your clothes slowly became soaked from the water still clinging to him.

his hands wandered across you as though they'd been waiting far too long for this. when he finally opened his eyes again, they looked even darker than before. without warning, he slipped an arm beneath your legs and lifted you effortlessly. you wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively. he turned toward the ocean.

"no, hollis!" you laughed. but you already knew you weren't stopping him. before you realized it, the two of you were back in the water.

still impossibly close. your skirt floated upward beneath the surface. his hands found the bare skin beneath it. he let out a quiet groan. god. how long had he wanted this?

the heat inside you kept building. there was a craving growing in your chest. a desperate, aching need.

you held onto his broad shoulders for support before instinctively rolling your hips against him. his grip on you tightened immediately. "oh, fuck..." his voice came out low, almost breathless. "if your brother knew how needy you are for me."

he slowly rocked his hips back against yours, teasing. a shaky moan slipped from your lips as you felt his bulge pressed against you through the soaked denim.

"look at you." his forehead rested against yours. "you're all mine, aren't you?" you nodded without hesitation. "y-yeah..."

the ocean soaked you more with every passing second. your clothes clung to your bodies. your hair grew heavier with seawater. your kisses became deeper. more desperate. 

hidden beneath the surface, where no one could see, his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, his long fingers gliding through your slit, brushing over your clit again and again while his other arm kept you firmly against him.

as if he was breaking you apart, only to be the one holding you together.

then his lips found your neck. soft kisses turned into slow, lingering ones as his fingers moved with growing urgency.

"oh... fuck, hollis." the words escaped you in a trembling breath. he felt it instantly. the way his cock twitched against you. hollis pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

for the first time all day, he hesitated. his jaw tightened. then, barely above a whisper, he admitted: "i need to fuck you y/n." his forehead rested against yours once more. "right now."

at his words everything inside you tightened. your pussy clenched around nothing as you pulled him even closer, desperate for him.

your voice barely rose above a whisper. "i'm all yours." every muscle in his body was tense. his heartbeat pounded just as fast as yours.

"hold on tight, baby." as you wrapped yourself around his broad frame, he reached beneath the surface to undo his jeans.

god, you wished you could see him. see just how ready he was for you. see all of him.

instead he looked directly into your eyes. he didn't even bother moving your panties aside. "ready for me?" his voice was low. dark. you rested your forehead against his. "i've waited so long for this." the words melted against his lips.

the water hid everything from view. there was nothing to see. only feel.

he held you firmly against him as he slowly drew you closer, letting you adjust to him inch by inch.

your breath caught. he was so much bigger than you'd imagined. he kept easing you closer until he finally held you flush against him before capturing your lips in another kiss.

"you okay, angel?" you nodded immediately. his hands slid lower along your hips while your fingers tangled tighter in his damp hair.

he began moving with you, pulling you back against him over and over again. harder. needier.

the water splashed around you with every movement as your quiet moans grew harder to hold back. "if he only knew how good you sound with my cock inside you..." his voice cracked with restraint. "fuck... baby."

you knew exactly who he meant. there was something about crossing the one line he never should've crossed that seemed to drive him even crazier. sleeping with his best friend's little sister.

the sun continued sinking behind the two of you. the only witness to what was happening.

you clung to him even tighter when you suddenly felt his thumb find your clit beneath the water. the ocean was dangerous. you never knew what he was going to do next.

while his thumb circled you slowly, his pace changed. he slowed down, letting you feel every inch of him before drawing you back again. making you feel everything.

"be good for me, angel." you nodded, burying your face against his neck. "please..." you already knew what was coming. "cum for me, baby." his voice was barely more than a breath.

"i´m all yours."

"don't run from it."

"let it happen."

"i got you."

and he did. every movement found exactly the right place. your whole body tightened around him. your breathing became uneven.

his own breaths turned rougher, more broken, matching yours until the two of you reached the edge together. "oh... fuck." he held you close as you trembled against him. "look at you..." he smiled between messy kisses. "such a good girl."

he kissed you again, slow and unsteady, your lips barely separating before finding each other again. you were still trying to catch your breath while he held you against him, neither of you wanting to let go. you smiled softly against his lips.

"hm?" he murmured. "do you think we missed dinner?" you asked with a small smile, absentmindedly playing with his hair. he pulled you a little closer. "after today..." a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"...you're the only one who's gonna be satisfying my hunger."

-

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, While I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried to the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffing, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thirsting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jittering,mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweating, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, cant walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nails scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell resolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devil tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me I'd still ride.

AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND OVER AND OVER.