Dark!nick Fowler - Tumblr Posts

Close to You 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you have a crush on your roommates boyfriend but getting over it isn't easy.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Author’s Note:  Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“I got it!” Nick snarls as he stomps out of the bedroom. You flinch and sit up. You didn’t even know he was there.  

Of course, it isn’t his bedroom that he’s strutting nearly naked out of. No, it’s your roommate’s. Lindsay cackles after him. 

“Don’t be such a grump,” her words barely carry through as her television blares loudly from the other side. You should’ve known why she cranked the volume so high. 

It's strange how she's always snappy with him, and he barks back at her just the same. You always imagined relationships to be more peaceful. Well, you wouldn't know, would you?

Before you can catch it, your book tumbles to the floor and you gulp. Nick stops short and grins crookedly as he fixes the elastic on his boxers. They hang so low you can see the perfect vee of his pelvis. You try not to look even as your eyes disobey your embarrassment. 

“Hey,” he drawls. “When’d you get home?” 

You rub your lips together and bend to grab your book. You don’t think he really cares but he’s just that type. He always says what he should. He always knows just what to say. And he’s so dreamy. 

Ahem. No. 

“Just... an hour ago,” you stand up and fold the throw blanket. “Sorry, I didn’t...” 

“Didn’t hear you come in. You’re always so quiet.” 

“Am I?” You clutch the book to your chest and avoid looking directly at him. 

“Well, compared to Linz...” he snickers. 

“Get me a cooler!” Your roommate shouts as if she heard her name. He rolls his eyes and strides into the kitchen. He grumbles but you can’t make out the words. 

His praise sticks with you as you watch his broad back disappear. He has muscles where you didn’t know muscles could exist. And his eyes. Beautiful and blue. His arms... 

Stop. 

You scurry for the hall but before you can pass the doorway to the kitchen, he comes back out. You stumble back and pick at the corner of the book cover. You look him in the eye, afraid your gaze might stray a bit too far. 

“Oh, woah, sorry,” he brushes his hand over your hip. “We’ll try not to keep you up.” 

“Uh, sure,” you step back and sway nervously. “I never... I can’t hear...” 

“She’s loud,” he scoffs and turns, two bottles hanging from one hand, necks squeezed between his thick knuckles, “have a good night.” 

“Er, you too,” you squeak after him. 

The door shuts and you cringe. Uh, you always sound so stupid. You barrel forward, forgetting the whim for a snack before bed, and close yourself in your room 

You’re so pathetic. Lindsay knows it and Nick does too. It’s obvious. That tension between you is nothing more than pity. They’re always together and you’re always alone. 

You put your book on the shelf and shuffle to your bed. You open your laptop and turn on the period piece that always makes you feel a little better. It doesn’t work tonight. You just feel lonely as you watch the pining between the straight-laced lord and lady. 

You turn it off and put on an endless lo-fi track instead. You can her Lindsay’s television. You change into your pajamas and shut off the lamp. You lay down but you’re wide awake. 

You try not to think of them. Not to think of him. 

You close your eyes and let the soft tones ease you. Still, you’re uneasy. It takes an hour to drift off and even then, it’s shallow.  

When you wake up again, the low music plays from your laptop but all else is quiet. You sit up, groggy to the point of dizziness, and amble around your room. You go out into the hall and click the door shut behind you.  

You head down to the bathroom. You should have gone before you laid down. 

You pull your bottoms down and sit on the toilet as you’re about to burst. You sigh and bend over your lap. That bottle of diet coke was a bad choice for more than the aspartame. 

You sit up, your muscles stiff from sleep, but before you can stand, the door opens. You cry out and cover yourself. Oh no! It had to be him. 

Nick puts his hand up and apologises as he backs out. Your body is set alight with humiliation. You quickly get up and pull your pants to your waist.  

You take your time washing your hands and stare down at the sink. You can’t even look at yourself. Why didn’t you lock the door? Stupid. Stupid. 

How much did he see? You try not to think of it as you near the door. You open it slowly and peek out through the tine slit between the frame. You poke your head out completely and step into the hallway. 

You set each foot down lightly, not wanting to give yourself away. As you approach your bedroom door, it’s open. You can’t remember if you shut it. 

You stop just before your door and raise your nose. You smell his cologne. You know it’s him. The scent clings to the couch and often trails after him.  

Ugh. You hate yourself for even thinking that. Even your inner monologue can’t help but be the most embarrassing narrative. 

You flit behind your door and lean into it until it’s closed. You drop your head and sigh. Well, you will be hiding until you’re sure he’s gone. You’ve dug this hole deep enough.