CRY FOR ME / PART ONE
2hollis x reader
content info: dom!fem!reader, sub!hollis, power reversal, emotional manipulation, angst, tears, toxic relationship, emotional pain, heartbreak
author’s note: this story turned out wayyy longer than i expected, so it’s going to be two parts. this one is meant to hurt and part two is where you’ll really get to know sub!hollis aka smut (yay) this is different. darker. heavier. i hope you feel it the way i did while writing it.
-
it didn’t start broken. it started soft.
in the beginning, he was so obviously in love with you that it felt almost unreal. the way he looked at you. like he was constantly in awe of the fact that you were there, that you were his. sometimes you’d catch him staring at you from across the room, smiling to himself, and when you asked what he was thinking, he’d just shake his head and say "nothing. just you."
he was present in a way that made you feel chosen over and over again. when you spoke, he listened. he listened like every word mattered. like he wanted to remember you. he touched you gently but constantly. a hand on your waist when you walked past each other, fingers brushing yours just because he could.
you lived together. you still do. the apartment hasn’t changed… but the life inside it has.
back then, the mornings were slow and peaceful. he cared about breakfast together, even on his busiest days. he’d insist on sitting down with you, your hair still messy, eyes heavy with sleep and still he was watching you like he didn’t want to miss a second. he loved seeing you like this. so pure. so beautiful. he stole bites from your plate, laughed when you caught him, kissed you like there was nowhere else he needed to be.
you loved cooking together. music playing low, him humming along, bumping into you in the kitchen just to make you laugh. sundays were lazy and intimate. hours on the couch, tv on but mostly ignored, sex that made you feel so close and connected, turning into naps, turning into ordering food. the world stayed outside your door. inside, it felt safe.
and he was proud. god, he was so fucking proud.
he brought you flowers for no reason at all. not to make up for anything. not because it was a special day. just because he’d seen them and thought of you. he sent you songs late at night with messages like "this reminded me of you" or "couldn’t stop thinking about us when i heard this."
when you went out together, he didn’t hesitate. his hand on your back, pulling you closer, eyes lighting up when he said it "that’s my girlfriend." like it was his favorite thing to say. like he wanted the whole room to know you were his. you could see it in his eyes. the way they softened when he looked at you. the way his voice changed when he said your name. he was in love, and he didn’t try to hide it.
then his album dropped. and suddenly, the world fell in love with him too.
his name grew heavier. his presence louder. interviews, stages, strangers who knew his lyrics better than they knew him. people wanted him everywhere, all at once. and slowly, that attention started pulling him away. not just from the apartment, but from you.
you still share the same place, but he’s barely in it anymore. always another city. another hotel. another late night. when he comes home, it’s usually late. he’s tired. restless.
some nights, he comes home and looks for your closeness. but not the way he used to. there’s no softness left in his hands, no warmth in his eyes. just pure desire. need. something urgent and empty at the same time. and every time, you fight with yourself over whether to give in. but the lack of him hurts too much. the distance feels unbearable. so you take every small piece of him he offers, even when it’s not enough.
and what he gives you is cold love. he’s distant. rough. focused only on releasing the pressure he carries with him. there’s no slowness, no tenderness, no connection. afterward, he turns away from you. falls asleep almost immediately. and you lie there wide awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling tears slide down your cheeks, promising yourself, once again, that you won’t let this happen anymore.
but then, every once in a while, he‘s back. those nights are different. slower. intimate in the way that makes your chest ache. he touches you like he remembers who you are. like he misses you too. like you’re not just a body, but his. he stays close afterward, forehead against yours, fingers tracing your skin like he’s afraid you might disappear.
those are the nights he says it. "i love you." quiet. rare. almost fragile. you hold onto those moments longer than you should.
lazy sundays disappeared. breakfasts together turned into quick goodbyes or silence. cooking together became something you stopped suggesting because it hurt too much hearing another excuse why he won’t make it.
and then came the moments that changed how you saw everything.
in interviews, he talked about his life like it was only his. if you came up at all, it was brief. casual. sometimes framed like a joke. people laughed. you smiled too, even tho it stung, because correcting him would’ve made it worse.
with his friends, it hurt deeper. he interrupted you. corrected you over things that didn’t matter. spoke to you like he suddenly knew better. about music, about work, about life, like his success had quietly placed him above you. he never said it outright, but you felt it. in the way he talked. in the way he looked at you when you spoke.
like you were smaller now. like he’d outgrown you.
you told yourself you were imagining it. that fame does this to people. that he didn’t mean it like that. but it kept happening. small comments. things easy enough to deny, sharp enough to break you anyway.
some nights, you cried on the couch, the tv on low, your phone in your hand, waiting for him to come home. other nights, you cried next to him while he slept, feeling lonelier than you ever had on your own.
it was never enough.
because somewhere between the half-truths, the excuses, the way he made you feel smaller in rooms full of people, you realized how quietly you’d been breaking in the same apartment where he once made you feel so deeply, undeniably loved.
the time for this was over. you had endured enough. watched long enough as he treated your pain like something normal. like something that simply came with loving you. talking didn’t work anymore. it never really did. every time you tried to bring it up, he’d roll his eyes. like you were being dramatic. like there were more important things to worry about. maybe for him. but that was the moment something inside you finally gave way. and you had promised yourself you wouldn’t let it get that far. not again.
so you stopped explaining. and you started planning.
you were going to confront him, just not with words. someone who refuses to listen has to feel it instead. and that was exactly what was waiting for him now.
you waited for the moment you knew by heart. the one you’d seen too many times before. when he came looking for your closeness again. not the cold, demanding version of him, but the soft one. the fragile one. the version that sometimes still whispered “i love you” like it meant something. that was when you’d step in. when he was fragile. confused. tired. that was when you’d make him feel what he’d been doing to you all along. and you knew he would understand.
friday night. he said he’d be home for the weekend, and just from his messages you could already tell what state he’d be in. the way his words were shorter. heavier. less guarded. your hands tremble slightly as you wait, knowing what’s about to happen. hoping, almost desperately, that it will work the way you imagined it would. you’ve known him long enough to know what this moment will do to him. long enough to know that the second he steps into your apartment, it will hit him. even though you never wished pain on him. never wished suffering on someone you still love. but you also knew this was the only way he’d ever really see you again. the way he once did.
the keys rattle in the lock. the door opens. his eyes search the room immediately. for you. for an anchor. for safety. the way they always do when the world gets too loud for him. when he finds you, your gaze meets his, and for a second you see it clearly. a broken boy standing in your doorway. he looks exhausted. hollow. and it almost breaks your heart.
he slips off his shoes by the door and drags himself toward you, slow and heavy. his arms wrap around you, pulling you in like muscle memory, his forehead resting against your shoulder. there’s no "hey angel, i missed you" just a tired sigh escaping his chest. then he straightens, hands moving gently to your cheeks, already planning to pull you into a kiss. the kiss that always leads to him later pressing you into the mattress.
not tonight.
you stop him just before his lips meet yours. "hollis." he looks at you, confused. the exhaustion in his eyes briefly giving way to alertness. a break in the routine. something unfamiliar. "hm?" you take a step back. the confusion on his face deepens. slowly, you gesture toward the armchair nearby. his gaze flickers between you and the chair, questioning, but he sits down anyway. hoping it will bring him closer to what he came here for.
this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. "i’m done." the words leave your mouth before you can stop them, and your chest tightens immediately. it hurts to say it. hurts to stand there and not break. you swallow hard, force the tears back. not yet. you won’t give him that yet. hollis looks up at you, one eyebrow lifting in confusion. "you’re done with what?" he asks. "listen, i’m tired an-" - "no" you cut in sharply "i’m tired, hollis."
tired of the way he looks past you. tired of feeling small next to him. tired of pretending this still feels like love. "what we had in the beginning was the most beautiful thing i’ve ever known" you say, your voice steady even though your hands are shaking. "and now?" you gesture between the two of you. "look at us."
it hits him. you see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his eyes flicker. but he keeps the mask on. he always does. "i tried to talk to you, over and over again." a bitter smile tugs at your lips. "but i guess worldstar 2hollis doesn’t have time anymore. not for me. not for his girlfriend." that’s when the tear slips. just one. it falls onto the cold floor between you, quiet but undeniable. talking for you. mirroring your feelings.
"that’s not fair" he says quickly. "i’m still here." you shake your head. "you’re here physically but you haven’t been you in a long time." your voice softens despite yourself. "i don’t even know who you are anymore." he looks at you like he’s losing something he didn’t realize was slipping away. his hands clench. "let me explain" he says, almost pleading now. you step closer. slow. "hollis, i’ve listened to every explanation." you stop right in front of him, forcing him to look up at you. "we’re done talking." and for the first time since he walked through that door, he understands that this moment isn’t about comfort. it’s about consequences.
he looks up at you, his eyes asking a hundred questions at once and you already know every single answer. slowly, you settle onto his lap, your arms sliding around his neck. for a moment, you let him believe you’re giving in again. just for a second. his hands move to your hips automatically. you lean in, your lips hovering close to his. close enough for him to feel your breath. then you stop. you whisper, soft and steady "i cried for you. for so long. more times than you ever noticed, my love." your lips brush the corner of his mouth as you speak "this is the point where it’s your turn. i’m going to make you cry for me. you’re going to pay me back for every tear."
fear flickers through his eyes. real fear. and beneath it, pain, growing, visible now. you smile once more against his lips before pulling away, sliding off his lap and down between his knees. not to make him happy like you always did. just close enough to open his pants. just enough to push him right to your edge. you undo his jeans and you see how hard he is for you already. you were right. he’d planned for tonight to be easy. something he could take without asking. again.
but the tables have turned. "y/n" he breathes, uncertainty creeping into his voice "what are you doing?" panic settles in. fear of what you’re about to make him face. fear of being seen too clearly. you look up at him, calm. controlled. "i already told you hollis" you say quietly.
"this is payback."
