Kiss and Make Up Series:
Part Two
Nick Jones x Ex-Boyfriend Male Reader
Summary: You knew it was going to be a bad idea to share the same tent with Nick Jones, your ex-boyfriend.
Content Warnings: Angst | Smut (MDNI) | (slight) Fluff | Set in the Early 2000s | Everyone is in their Early 20's (as per canon) | Camping | Canon-Typical Stalking | Canon-Typical Horror Elements (nothing crazy yet!) | Allusions to Nick Jones' Rough Upbringing | Ex-Boyfriends (r! and Nick Jones) | Homophobia (Internalized and it's the 2000s) | Lack of Communication | Nick Jones Still Loves Reader | Protective Nick Jones | Spooning | Morning Wood | Big Dick Nick Jones | Needy Nick Jones | Dry Humping | Handjob (r!receiving) | Praise (r!receiving) | Sex in a Public Place | Sex in a Tent | Exhibitionism(?) | Cum in Underwear | Marking/Cum Play | (sorta) Make Up Sex | Unresolved Tension | Ambiguous Ending
Word Count: 7.82k
Author's Note: So, I know I said that this blog will mainly feature fluff, but I JUST NEEDED TO WRITE THIS as this idea sprouted into the first fanfic I wrote in my head two years ago after seeing House of Wax (2005) for the first time. And yes, this is a series! Part one will eventually be released, but I'm gonna need some more time and patience to actually plan the plot, backstory, and complete character dynamics between Nick Jones and his (ex-)boyfriend (and the rest of the cast). House of Wax (2005) doesn't give very much lore on the timeline of events previous to the movie or much background details on any of the characters... so I'm gonna have to come up with a ton of headcannons for the series to work. And, truthfully, I wanted my first fic to be something more fun😳 as both a treat for you all (and myself).
Side Note: This part elongates the scene at minute 14:24 - 17:42 from the movie. Of course, some minor changes (additions and removals/skips) have been made!
Previous Part: (Not yet written!)
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"What other option do I have," you sighed, looking tiredly between the three identical blue tents before turning back to Carly. It was only momentary, but you couldn't linger on the thought that Nick had caught your trailing gaze. His expression was stoically hard-set - distant and far off. "If I could, I would, but that stench is preventing me from sleeping up in a tree."
Carly's nose twitches at the remembrance of the foul smell that surrounds the woods. "Well, you could always join me and Wade in our tent," she offers, already knowing your response.
A shiver runs down your body as Nick slightly shifts, keeping you in his periphery. He takes a swig from his beer.
"No, I couldn't do that to the two of you. I've already been a third wheel between Paige and Blake," you lowered your voice as you didn't have to turn around to point your thumb back to the couple currently stacked on top of each other like a Jenga set. The single flimsy foldable camping chair holding remarkably strong under their combined weight and makeout session. Again. "And, I'm not taking any chances with them forgetting I'm in the same tent." Carly snickered, agreeing, though she tried hiding it behind her hand.
Nick swirls the green glass bottle, the campfire's light easily distinguishing the little alcohol spinning at the bottom. He's zoning out of the sluggish ramble Dalton's going on about, only giving half-a-nod and a hm in acknowledgement every so often. The Elvis look-alike clad in yellow - after Carly and Paige's makeover - sounded better to his ears than Carly's friend and Blake sucking faces. The slow, constant fire and alcohol did little to distract him anymore. His thoughts were racing - all led him back to you. Everything had been shifted to you since the start of this trip. He turns in his chair completely to fully face you, Dalton doesn't notice.
"It's only for the night. Nothing worse can be done... right? Everyone will just fall asleep and we'll wake up tomorrow for the game, like planned. Everything will go like we said it would. It'll be fine," you explain, moreso to yourself as the stress grips your shoulders. A tight-lipped smile splays across your face, but your heart bounces in discomfort, causing your shoulders to sag. The dirt starts to look interesting; your shoe scrapes against the group's makeshift campgrounds to create nonsense etchings. You try to delay the inevitable.
Carly steps closer, laying her hand comfortingly on your left shoulder. Nick's grip on his bottle tightens, he tells himself it's an instinct. That she's just his sister, your friend. He can't help the feeling in his chest, messing with his thoughts and wishes you to come seek him. For him to be your comfort again, like he was nearly a year ago. But he can't move. He knows exactly why he isn't that person for you anymore. It's the same reason why you broke up with him a couple months back.
"I know you already said no," you lift your head back to rebuttal but Carly continues, "but my offer still stands. Whether you feel you can't handle being in the same space as him or Nick decides to be a douchebag in the dead of night. I know how my brother could be."
"Thanks, Carls, but I should be able to handle him if anything happens," a genuine smile appears. "Plus, we're both mature, right? It's not gonna be like that trip during senior year of high school."
You both laugh, Carly's hand falls from your shoulder as she remembers that time during your class' senior trip. Nick can't help but feel left out, though his hard gaze slacks a fraction after hearing you laugh. If his lips tipped upward briefly into a small smile, then Dalton still didn't notice.
First time he laughed all day, he notes. He finished his drink and coolly tossed the empty beer bottle into the campfire. It roars to life from the alcohol remnants, the flame's warmth lick his face as it cheers. I need to make him happy, again. He hears Dalton, Paige, and Blake cheer as Wade chastises his irresponsibility.
"You can't just throw away your trash into the fire, Nick! We need to keep the grounds free from any litter. Come on, man, it's dangerous..."
But Nick couldn't care less about Wade's educational rant or if the fire spread to their tents or the woods. He pulled against his black hoodie, restless, the increasing shadow highlighting the rough stubble along his jaw - he hasn't shaved since he got out. His eyes still stuck on you.
"Goodnight, Carly," you say before hunching over and hugging your best friend.
She pushes her red hair back behind her shoulders after stepping back. "Goodnight."
You take a deep breath and force yourself to turn back around. You find Wade to your right in the closest chair to Carly, Paige still sitting on top of Blake's left thigh in the further chair away, Dalton messes with the sunglasses he wears near the middle of the semicircle. And there's Nick, hidden behind the safety of his black hoodie, though his posture is still vulnerable to being decoded. Since you have turned your back he has slightly shifted the foldable camping chair, the uneven dust of dirt lies under his dark jeans. You know him, he's trying to play it defensively - act cool as he's slumped lower into the chair, his long legs spread out to assert his masculinity. You can't see his ice-cold blue eyes, but you feel them locked onto your form. He's reading every inch that you move, every breath that you take, and everything that you don't say - just like you are.
You clear your throat, trying to displace your nerves, displeasure, and the fluttering within your ribs. Get a grip, you yell at yourself. You're meant to be mad. Stay upset. Don't give in, don't re-fall for him. The separation was your idea, your distinct call after Nick's incident. After you got the call from him a few weeks after the fact, when the worry and anxiety couldn't eat you up and spit you out any longer and all that was left was the inevitable.
Just like in the movies, you heard first the loud hallway filled with rowdy, impatient prisoners that only echoed further with the banging of metal bars. Nick only spoke in whispers to try and keep your conversation private, knowing what would happen to him if any of the other prisoners, or even the guards, knew that he was talking to another man and not his girl patiently biding time for his release on the outside. After he reassured you that it ain't so bad, that he was handling the slammer better than most fresh meat,he tried wrapping up the call. But before he could say that he didn't have much time left, you released the statement you've been holding back, "I want to break up," even as your heart lurched into your throat to try and take back the words. You were left in tears, your hand shaking as you hold back your sobs, Motorola RAZR V3 slamming against the hardwood floor as the call ended. You didn't hear how Nick got desperate, slamming the landline phone against the cement once he heard the dull beeping from the call ending.
"Goodnight, Wade, Dalton, and-" you stop yourself from wishing the same to Blake and Paige as they were too busy with each other, again. That just leaves, Nick. You open your mouth to do the same, wish him a simple and passing goodnight that he would forget after he moves on. But you can't do it. And he doesn't say anything either. You're both left with a tunnel of echoing silence that reverberates between your chosen distance, neither of you can even name the '90's song that the boombox is blasting through the campgrounds.
Instead you give a small, barely noticeable nod that you hope he didn't perceive. He did. He still hasn't moved, but your heart still tells you that he understands. The beating begins to gush nonsense about Nick that you needed to push down after spending the first day back together.
As you unzip the blue tent, you crouch and step inside, finally putting distance between yourself and Nick after such a long day, even if it'll only last for a bit until everyone finally decides to turn in, as well. You kick off your shoes and place them into the corner, shrugging off and pulling over your burgundy hoodie to lay with your shoes. Once folded, the worn etchings of the Brooklyn College logo is displayed. You sigh and crawl over to the left-most sleeping bag of the three, choosing the farthest position from Nick. Trying to get comfortable on the hard ground that is just barely displaced by the layer of tarp, you hope to fall asleep soon - to elongate the inevitable further.
Outside of the tent, the music continues to blast from the boombox on Blake's truck. Beats from some '90s club classic begin to erupt. Dalton re-grabbed his old camcorder from where Carly dropped it after cutely filming Wade, the edges rusting from its overuse and caked with spots of dirt. He first films Paige and Blake making out, this time more tame than their earlier endeavors. Then he pans over to his best friend's sister and her boyfriend giving short, sweet smooches.
"Oh yeah, that's hot," Dalton reacts and turns the camera to a brooding Nick. Ever since you zipped back up the tent, he's been locked onto the campfire. He needs space, he knows you do, which is why he is sitting through his sister and her friend making out with their boyfriends, even if every second it's torture. All it does is remind him of how he can't do that with you anymore.
We aren't together, he repeats to himself. It's the only reminder that's stopping him from leaving Dalton alone with the couples, opening and closing the tent behind him, and grabbing you into his long arms. He would lay kisses along your neck, collar, shoulders, jaw, face, and hair all night if you allowed him; you resting your head against his strong bicep, back pressed against his toned and muscular chest.
He's brought back to reality, having felt the camcorder on him for too long, as if Dalton is waiting expectantly. So, he says in his rough voice, "Don't even think about it. I ain't kissing you, dude."
"Come on you know you want to, dude," Dalton jokes, a fake laugh escapes him to fill the awkward silence. Nick lets his guard down and smiles.
"Haha. Just kidding. Psyche. I wouldn't kiss your ass for shit," Dalton retracts.
And just as Nick was beginning to let go, an old beat up truck pulls into their campgrounds. It stops a few feet away from the fire, the headlights blind Dalton and the rest of the group as he closes his camcorder. He angles his head and tries to block out the harsh yellow light from his vision with his palm. And the moment is gone.
The group stills, even the boombox shuts off as if it too is frightened by the new visitor. As the group of five all try to peer through their blindness, each trying to catch a glimpse of the person behind the wheel.
Wade is the first to break the ice. "Yeah," he calls out, expecting a polite answer in return.
"Hey, yo, man. You need something?" Blake follows, audibly less patient and more annoyed that his moment with his girlfriend was ruined by a stranger that invaded their camping spot.
Carly asks what the entire group is wondering, "What does he want?"
"Hey, can you turn off your lights. Please?" Wade continues, straining his eyes behind his giant hand. His right hand is still wrapped around Carly, holding her steady as he still hopes for the stranger to be polite.
It's unseen by the group, but behind the headlights all that is clearly visible is the hand of man, fingers itching and straining as he holds himself back. The beat-up truck coughs as it waits for its driver to make the next decision.
"Okay, this is getting kinda creepy," Paige says, looking at her boyfriend to do something more.
"Hey, come on, man. Get out of here. Nothing to see here. Come on. Let's go," Blake asserts as he lets go of Paige and waves his hand at the truck. Fortunately, he chose to listen to her.
"Can we help you?" Wade asks the figure.
"Maybe we're on his property," Carly says to the group.
Finally Wade begins to stand. "Nah we didn't pass a gate."
"Hey, man, turn your lights off," Blake joins him as they march closer to the truck. Carly and Paige stand back, maintaining a distance behind the flame.
"Hello!" Wade starts.
"Turn your lights off," Blake finishes. "I'm serious. Turn your lights off or I'm whooping someone's ass."
Wade blocks his path with his arm, preventing Blake from getting closer to the truck. The silence is deafening. There still isn't an ounce of a response from the driver.
Thinking he has it all under control, Wade says, "It's cool, man," to Blake but maintains the truck in his view. He doubts his own sentiment.
A deep frown settles on Nick's face, eyebrows furrowed and jaw rigid like he was ready to lunge. He knew trouble, and out here in this forest, the six of them alone with this beaten-up truck and stranger, this was trouble. He looks back at the blue tent you were meant to share with him, and it's the last reminder he needed to set off.
He grabs an empty beer bottle from beneath his chair, marches to stand with the rest of the group, and chucks the glass directly into the right headlight. It's clean, effortless, and fast, causing that light to shatter, weakening the glare. Though in the heat of the moment, Nick didn't fully think out his actions, as the driver was still hidden by the white wall from the left headlight. His frustration was released only momentarily, but it wasn't enough. Not during training and football games, and not now. Why didn't he just aim for the other headlight?
"Nick," Carly gasps at her brother, appalled at his action. "Oh, my god-"
But he doesn't pay her any mind as he weaves between the group, purposely choosing to side-check Wade - he stumbled a step back - as he now steps the closest to the truck. Nick isn't afraid, hasn't been for a while after everything he's been through. His jaw is still set, body pulsing and charged in preparation for a confrontation with the figure. His ice-cold eyes have tainted to a deeper shade, nearing black ice levels of danger. His stance is completely open, non-defensive and completely in-line to attack. Come on, step out the damn car, he yearns for the battle. This feeling reminds him of his high school afternoons and evenings out, wearing shoulder pads, a half dented helmet from his aggressive behavior, and bits of turf filling his cleets. Endless training would prepare the team for back-to-back losses, it made him sick. He grunts, pushing aside his coach's booming voice when he was kicked off the team.
Now that he knows his friend is prepared to fight the stranger, Dalton steps forward with overconfidence brewing from him. "What," he calls out to the stranger, making sure to stand at Nick's side, not in front.
There's a stand still for a few more moments, then the engine roars quietly back to life as the stranger creaklily shifts back into reverse. The light from the truck slowly dims as all that's left is the empty air where the vehicle once was. Nick maintains eye contact the entire time, not letting go until he was sure that the truck was long gone. He hears Dalton proudly shout, "Yeah," as if he was the one who did something to cause the stranger to retreat.
"That was great. That was great, dude," Dalton turns to his best friend.
"My man, Nick, he's hardcore," Blake joins in on the celebration.
Although he tries to act like he doesn't like the attention, a side-smile maintains on his expression until he turns around and sees your shared tent open again. He finds you standing back in your shoes, hoodie missing this time, to the right of the tent's opening. A memory flashes before his eyes, high school you, standing against the chain link fence that divides the football field from the surrounding track.
You had wanted to surprise him and stop by his practice after you finished helping your friend's weekly book club that she hosts in the school's library. He froze midsentence, an incomplete insult aimed toward his coach for his decision lingers heavily. Breath quickening, his heart rate spikes at the sight of you - watching him get kicked off the football team. He's spent too much time stuck in cycles of worst case scenarios, being pushed aside, and judged for simply breathing since he was born, luck was never on his side. You must have heard everything, he immediately decides. How I exploded. How long had you been standing there, did you see his foul play? Hear the snap and crush of cartilage? Did you hear the trigger that fired him like a bullet?
Abruptly, he turns around and runs off the field. Coach calls him back, to try and work something out, to give him the attention he craves from an authority figure he lacks. He knew that this decision was long-coming and was waiting for a more appropriate time to tell him. But that moment never came, at least it never had the chance to sprout. It was quick, the words slipped out of his mouth but even behind the heat of his voice he knew that they were definitive. Irreversible.
Shit. Shit, what must he think of me now? He thinks I'm an aggressive, meatheaded, punk-ass jock. Nick hops over the side bench, the defense having stood and stepped aside once they saw him charging in their direction. He knocks over the water cow, shoves his helmet back on, and climbs the fence. He doesn't know where he's going, but he knows one thing: he can't allow you to see him. Not in the state he's in. The last you saw of Nick that day was as he turned into the forest behind the school, the red, orange, and brown foliage descending together like a falling curtain to conclude an act of a play.
He thinks I'm the evil twin, this sentiment having been ingrained is now amplified into shrieking echoes that cause his skull to shake. At least he feels better about that reasoning rather than the true cause of his shaking to be from his tears and violent sniffling. His vision tunneled and Nick barely had enough sense left to not knock himself into the passing by oak trees.
He didn't know this, still doesn't, but you had wanted to run after him. You didn't though. You couldn't allow the scene to explode further if Coach, the rest of the team, or any of the cheerleaders saw you sprint across the field and run into the forest in search of your best friend. There were already whispers hanging in the halls about you, about him, and the closeness between you two. Initially you had tried ignoring it, playing it off like Nick and you were just two close bros.
Not even a few days later, you were shoved into a locker. Your head throbbed from the slam, your assailants sneered at your groan and threatened you to stay away from Nick. You couldn't manage to open your eyes until a few minutes after you were free, but you knew that their clique included four of Nick's teammates and a cheerleader - that you knew from hallway gossip has been wishing for Nick to give her an ounce of attention so she can make a move. Of course, her boyfriend didn't know that but it seemed like half the school did.
Hearing the snare of Coach's whistle signaled to the defense men to join the huddle. Out of the circle of jocks, only a single footballer was relieved from the speech as he limped back onto side bench while leaning on support from a teammate. He seemed fine, no gushing blood, jutted bone, or any cuts. There was minor swelling though, you deduced he had twisted his ankle. You furrowed your brows, asking yourself, "So why did Nick run off?"
You pushed aside your lurching heart after taking a small glance toward the cheerleaders, they were too busy reforming into a pyramid that they hadn't seen you. You slowly trudged back into the library, momentarily interrupting your friend's club to sit at a nearby table. You thought about joining them as a distraction, but instead you hugged the table as you forced yourself to nap. The club resumed once they heard a snore, strangely sound similar to a broken sob.
So, as much as he wants to be sung in your praises for being your knight in shining armor - for scaring away the creep - he knows that won't happen. He can't take that risk - won't allow himself to let his guard down out here in the open. He understands that they're all his friends - even if he would never admit it to any of them, especially not his sister - but he still can't do it. He couldn't do it back then, cowering away from you on that senior year afternoon. And he still can't do it now. Nick puts back on the stoic mask, as the rest of the group turn back around to their tents, missing the brief moment between you two.
"What the hell was that about, huh," his sister questions him, trying to analyze his character. She knew as his twin sister - and thus the group member that has known him the longest, even longer than you or Dalton - that he didn't do it just to save them or scare off the intruder. No. There was something deeper that caused his actions. It would go even further back then when you two were dating, into siblings' childhood. But she still hadn't deduced what it was.
Nick keeps walking past her, even as she goes to grab his forearm. He hears Dalton continue, "You the man, dude. That was awesome."
"Don't encourage him," Carly quickly retorts.
Nick avoids your gaze as he sits back in his chair. He shifts his seat back so he couldn't see you, even though he feels your soft gaze. Even with his walls drawn, it strains his sanity to ignore your allure while you stand there expectantly, finally possibly wanting to talk to him. Even if it's just to ask him what happened. He may portray himself tough, but he is extremely fragile, especially when it comes to you. He could handle his sister's scrutiny any day of the week, but you? Never. Not since that day you broke up with him. You were his weakness, his vulnerability, his confidant, his sanctity, and still. His love.
You wanted to ask the group what the commotion was about and who the hell that guy was, but you decided to bite your tongue and escape back into the tent without being seen. The rest of the group joins Nick in their respective arrangements as the twisted mood settles, allowing their adrenaline to soothe under the gaze of the surrounding darkness before they all decide after some much needed silence that that was enough for the day.
At around half-past 3:00am, only a few hours after the encounter and everyone decided to rest, Dalton's camcorder gets picked up. A tall, mysterious figure blends with the shadows as he heavily breathes behind the recording device. He takes slow, heavy, silent steps through the campgrounds.
He stops in his tracks in front of the first tent. Pointing the camera through the tent's window, the footage captures Blake and Paige resting, their bodies separated but they both looked comfortable even if they weren't laying on top of each other. The hard lines of Blake's body look defined even through the barely-there light. Paige is asleep on her back, as the covers lay just below her chest. The blanket is crinkled to make it seem like there's the smallest bump where her stomach rests. Her blond hair illuminates under the faint light that makes her seem like a modern-day princess.
The camcorder turns away from the couple as the figure walks toward the farthest tent. This time the footage reveals resting men: Dalton the closest to the window, laying on his left side; Nick in the middle, copying his best friend and also facing toward him, and; you, the furthest from the window, sleeping on your right shoulder with your head resting against your sprawled arm. The figure stills as he makes sure to take in the detail of the three men under their covers. Though as you were turned away, he had to get closer to the tent to angle the camcorder just right through the window to capture any of your features.
In your sleep, you mumble something incoherent like you were explaining your perspective to someone important. Your body freezes, shivers, and you shift your blanket up further. As if on instinct, even while asleep, Nick grumbles as he pats for your figure. Half asleep from the inconvenience, though Nick's adoration is stronger after having shared many nights together, he turns himself around and latches onto your figure. He sighs against your neck, pressing his forehead into your hair. Your breath hitches as Nick wraps one arm across your waist and the other lays under the junction of your neck and shoulder to support your head. It's perfect. You both still fit together flawlessly. Soundly, you two return to your dreamscapes.
The mysterious figure had carefully stepped away once he saw that Nick had shifted over, cautious to be seen from his creepy stalking. Jostled and blurry, the camcorder focuses on the final of the three tents. In the opening, there rests a sleeping Carly, her slow breathing captured for a few seconds as she perfectly lays toward the camera. In the top edge of the screen, Wade's form can also be seen, just enough to capture his brunette hair, rough beard, and boy-ish face for later use, but he isn't who the figure cares about - not entirely. Suddenly, Carly shoots up, instantly the camera drops to the ground beside the tent as the figure escapes back into the darkness.
It was strange being transported back into your old high school gymnasium. You knew it had to have been hours in-between your previous dream and this one, but you had blinked, and now you were here - sitting at an empty table, surrounded by familiar high schoolers dressed to the gills in varying shades of blue. However, there were a handful of rebels who stuck with the black suit and tie combo and a few girls who weirdly dressed like they believed the theme to be an enchanted forest with their puffy dresses, and real diamond crowns?
You wouldn't say your two-piece suit was cheap, but you didn't stand out from any of the other guys. A matching light blue coral jacket and trousers fit over your form comfortably, underneath was a clean pressed white dress shirt. The finishing touch was a deep cobalt blue bowtie that was further emphasized by the white pocket square half hidden beside your heartbeat. The displaced refracting shine from the overhead disco ball made your suit shine like it had glitter. And, if it was up to your friends for your appearance, then you would have.
You anxiously tapped your navy William leather cap toe oxfords beneath the table, remembering how much of a chore it was to sway yourself to attend. You missed Nick. You wanted him to be here, even if you two would have to pretend to be bros and stay six feet apart to maintain appearances. It would have been worth it to memorize his maturing face under the neon lights and streamers. You could've also been hassling him all day about how he can't show up to prom with just jeans and his hoodie of the day. Then it would have made that image of him even more valuable. But, Nick was barred from the dance.
And so, again, you watched as your friends and classmates began to form a circle surrounding the center of the dance floor. Everyone had gotten up from their tables to join in on the camaraderie. Everyone but you. You sighed, twirling your pointer finger around the rim of the punch glass that poofed into existence in front of you. What's the point of this dream, you thought to yourself. There were no wacky shenanigans, no distortion, no plot holes filled with random objects. It just felt like a memory. The exact same night that occurred over three years ago, replaying now. But why? If it was so important, why was your subconscious having you relive your lonely night. Wait.
As if the dream was lagging, your heart instantly began to thrum. You looked up and saw him. Nick's head peaked around the opened doors - that the chaperone teachers had long since moved further inside to congregate amongst the punch bowl. He wore his black hoodie - a recent purchase of his at the start your senior year that he loved but would never admit - pulled over his head, his bright smile still gave him away. He tilts his head backwards, asking you to follow him outside. You don't even think twice.
"What are you doing here? You were banned from being seen on school premises tonight, remember?"
"You looked like you needed saving," Nick cheekily says. He holds himself back from wrapping an arm across your shoulders to pull you closer as you both begin to round the school. Too close, you hear his thought echo in your head.
"Actually, I was having the time of my life," you respond, knowing that this is a dream. You could push his buttons as much as you wish. "Everyone's wrapped up dancing, but nobody ever speaks about how good the punch is."
"Yeah? Did one of the stoners spike the bowl?"
You think for a second, flicking your tongue to draw back the taste. Did it even taste like anything? "That's not important."
"Tell me what's important, handsome." Suddenly, you are both transported onto the football field. The parking lot and surrounding forest is still, while you can faintly hear the booming drums from the gym. One of Nick's hands grips your left shoulder and the other caresses the small of your back. Under a single floodlight, Nick's blue eyes look brightly innocent with the shine. He's also re-wearing his simple black tuxedo.
You gasp, déjà vu cracking your stuttering heart and floods your limbs. "This is just a dream," you hear yourself say out loud.
He shakes his head, with a warm smile says, "This may not be the real world, but you can't deny the emotions you're feeling. Here in this memory. Out there, when you're awake with him. With me."
"But-"
"Even when you are dreaming you still worry too much," Nick laughs.
"Look, we don't have much time together before you wake up," he lifts the hand on your shoulder, carefully holding your cheek like you are a fragile statue. "Otherwise I would have taken you to do what we actually did on prom night."
You push against his shoulder, remembering how you made out back in the heart of the forest. It was a spur of the moment, after you both had held yourself back for years of longing looks and closeness coded as two bros, finally letting go of inhibitions that society placed on you and reinforced. All the dirty looks, the bullying, and the whispered snide remarks, only for you two to finally throw it all away once you were hidden away from everyone. Prom night didn't go how you wanted, but to you, it was still romantically perfect.
"But why now?"
Nick smirks. "We both know why now. Look, I'm still an almagamation of your memories and the fleeting biases of your subconscious so I can't speak for the man sleeping next to you. You've gotta figure out your own feelings, baby."
Your dream ends with a single, soft press of his lips against your forehead. It was the same first act of affection Nick did with you. It all happened that prom night.
Nick re-awakens floating in a blank expanding void. He peers around to find a single sheet of glass far away. His floating shifted into a determined walk as a surfacing ground began to hold him up. When he looks into the screen he finds his sister's smiling image. The glass flips and it transforms into a mirror. The glass continues to spin as it displays Carly and Nick at different ages, from 21 to 18, 15, 12, 9, 6, and 3. As it stops, a small, young toddler Nick is pictured, above a white box edges out of the white void. It reads The Evil Twin, his parents' voice cruelly repeating the same words. Instantly, Nick punches his young image, frustratingly hoping to pause this nightmare.
He's panting, body locked as he's met with silence. Looking back up, the white box pushes itself back into the white void, rearranging the surface again flat. "I'm not the evil twin," he roughly whispers against the void.
"No, you aren't," a voice answers.
Nick turns around, the void converted into a suburban street. From the palm trees, the clear blue skies filled with passing Northern Mockingbirds, Blue Jays, and Mourning Doves, and the blaring heat under the sun, he recognized the scene clearly. It was Gainesville, Florida. This is your street, he recognizes.
Hiding and merging into the sunlight, Nick takes slow, careful steps as he walks to your apartment. After giving a solid college try at living on-campus during your first year, you were extremely fortunate to have found a decently-priced apartment near the University of Florida. Just like he knew your dorm room too well, Nick had also spent many nights walking with you after both of your classes for the day and spending the night studying. His heart jumps at the many memories of boring studying becoming fun once you created a rewards system that always led him to wrinkled textbooks across the floor as you both makeout. This was your shared safehaven.
Nick twists the golden door knob, opening the scene into a single blue tent in the middle of the hallway. An accompanying window leads the golden sun rays like a spotlight onto the only item in the room. He could open it, but he stops himself. What if his nightmare continues? He can't risk seeing the horror his mind creates for you.
"Nick," your voice within the tent calls out. "It's okay. You're okay. You. Are. Not. The. Evil. Twin."
He's frozen, his fear defending against the mysterious that pulls toward his desires. His want to see you, even if it's you in his dream.
"You can come inside, Nick. I allow you inside, babe."
Entranced by his siren's voice, he unzips the tent, crouches down to push open the flap, and crawls into the golden light.
You awaken to being held, a familiar muscularly lanky figure surrounding your form. You distinctly remember last night falling asleep before Nick or Dalton had decided to hit the hay. You knew it was Nick, sharing your blanket, comfortably cuddling against you. Now, you wished you had stayed up - faked your sleep - so you could've known if Nick immediately gave into temptation. If he couldn't help himself.
Wearily opening your eyes, you're blasted with the morning sunlight. It seemed like it was directly targeting you two, bathing you both in crisp warmth to begin a lazy Louisiana day. You inch your head forward, making sure not to tickle Nick's nose with your hair, and slowly lift your head to peer at his form. A soft grumble escapes his lips at feeling you move, but his arms are limp around you as he continues to release short snores.
In this spotlight, Nick's sleeping form makes him look younger, more innocent. Even with his rough beard and sharper jaw line, he looked at peace. His hair is tinted back into a soft shade of yellow, the darkness hiding away from the goodness of the light to show his true nature. Like the Nick you met in high school. He still is the same guy you pined after for three years, shared your first kiss with on your prom night, and began to date after graduating high school.
He was a mess; you couldn't ignore that trait. But to you, it added more to his charm. You didn't understand why so many people judged him harshly for his actions. Sure, he can be a piece of shit, but his actions are a product of his isolation. He needed someone to give him an ounce of support, to be there for him. And once he realized that you had eventually weasled your way into becoming that person for him then he became furiously loyal. You had actually seen Nick's personality similarly shift after he finally got close with Dalton.
Looking past Nick, you noticed the other half of the tent was completely empty. All that was left was a half-flung, rumpled blanket and tucked away in the corner were Nick's and your pile of clothes on top of your respective pair of shifts. It seemed like Dalton had just gotten up.
"You lookin' for an escape?" Nick asks, exhaustion lacing his deep, rough voice.
You can't help yourself but allow yourself to smile at him. "Where's Dalton?"
"He shook me awake ten minutes ago to tell me he had to go take a piss," Nick huffs, no real harm behind his words. "He also asked me where I had last seen his camcorder. Do you remember?"
"I called it early last night, remember? That camera could be lost in the woods after he snuck off to watch back his footage."
"Yeah, I remember," Nick hums, pulling you back down against him. Having your body tight against his, it was exactly all that he wanted to do the moment he saw you before the trip. It's all he could think of last night. The moment lingers - secure, safe, and familiar all settling between the two of you. He sighs, "I missed you. I missed this."
You force yourself to freeze, biting back the same words you wish to echo. I hope I'm not being obvious, you think. You want to fill the silence with any comment, any observation but it all leads you back to what you two need to discuss. "Nick, we need to talk-"
"I know, baby. I know," he whispers against your throat, causing you to shiver. Nuzzling his nose against your neck, he begins to place sweet kisses. It's innocent, loving, and-
Nick turns you around, pressing your chests together. His forehead kisses yours as he now looks into your eyes. His blue eyes shimmer, half-lidded, and he's gazing at you adoringly. It's the same look he gives before-
You feel him, hard, hot, and big, presssing incessantly against your left. Shit. Even after having spent countless of nights tangled in the sheets as lovers, feeling him like this against you still causes you to blush. Naturally, heat begins to pool south as Nick reignites you. You push your right palm against his tough, large chest, trying to get any semblance of rational between the two of you - any distance at all to let your brain think.
"Baby, if you allow me, I can make you feel good like old times," Nick coos, his warm breath fanning against your face. You flush further, shutting your eyes as a last-ditch effort. It feels like it begins to work until he juts himself against you again. His left hand that was cradling your face, moves lower against your body. A line of warmth follows his fingers as he grabs you, tugging you a few times. You harden.
"I thought about this every night..." Nick trails off, too distracted to finish his thought. With your boxers pressed against his how could he think about anything else. He grunts as you moan, pleasure flooding your nerves as your tips kiss beneath the soft fabric. This only spurs him further. Faster. Harder.
"Nick," you whisper, not wanting to ruin the intimacy. He stops, pressing himself back against you. You know he's listening intently when you feel him twitch - his mind racing as he tries to hold himself back. "What about Dalton? What if he walks back into the tent?"
"That's what you're thinking about, huh?" He grunts, slowly grinding against your boxers. You feel his pulse quicken against your chest, his cock straining against the thin fabric as he continues to twitch. "Dalton has walked in on us. Multiple times, too. It's nothing he hasn't seen before."
"But, baby, if you're so worried," he presses his face against your open neck with a grin, "I can be quick."
He layers kisses, first against your pulse point as he weasels his large hand further into your boxers to grab you. He moves to French kiss your jaw, moving higher and higher to nibble at your right earlobe, tugging at your cock. When a quick moan leaves you, you give in and wrap your arms across his broad shoulders. You pull him even closer, wanting your bodies to melt into the other. His groan fills the tent, the enclosed space making it feel louder even though he only ever wants for you to hear him like this. Vulnerable. Completely open. All because you continuously break him.
"As long as we stay under the covers," he breathes into your neck, "Dalton will never know of our tryst."
He tightens his grip around your dick, trying to pour months of love - of being without you - into his work. You can begin to feel a wet spot form on your boxers, though you are too enraptured to determine if it's from you or Nick. As if hearing your thoughts, he pushes himself up further against you and you can feel his thick tip sandwiched between the edge of his hard, rigid abs and the band of your underwear. He's leaking. Profusely. His pre-cum spreads and begins to collect below your waist.
Your shirt rolls up, and so does his white tank top. His happy trail brushes against you, the new friction adding to intensify the sensation. Nick makes you feel lost, only ever coming to when his cock begins to tense and gives small slaps against you in his excitement. All throughout this, Nick hasn't stopped jerking you off and breathing you in. His mustache itching against your skin, the burning cools beautifully.
It's a push and pull, something so simple, and yet so intense. Nick makes sure to jerk you at the same rate as his thrusts. He's fast, even more solid. The distance of time makes him feel longer and larger than what you remember. Beginning to pant, you can feel sweat drip onto your neck from his forehead. It's one of the only signs you know he shows that he's holding himself back from cumming. His exertion isn't meant for himself, it's all for you.
"You close, baby?" he asks, pushing your body even closer with his free hand against your lower back.
"I'm going to cum," you whisper-yell, voice wavering. Your cock twitches in agreement.
"I could go on and on," he groans, immediately preventing that idea to linger into truth. His large cock is rigidly protesting.
"Please, baby. Let go for me," his voice deepens, the rumble from his chest echoing within your body. He picks up speed, his grip on you getting in the way of his incessant thrusts. He doesn't care, not right now.
You cry out as you cum, your head falling onto Nick's shoulder, your body giving out. Within the blissful fog, you still feel him at attention, the long thick vein that runs beneath him pulsing heavy like a war drum. He pulls his hand away from you, your cum messily between some of his fingers. It already begins to stick onto his skin, as if it's begging to be a part of him too. Forever.
"Baby, can I come on you?" he cries out, voice dipping an octave higher. You vigorously nod against his shoulder, wanting nothing more than to see him come undone.
In his hot fury of thrusts, he's still careful to avoid your pelvis. He wants you to feel pure pleasure. Nick's done seeing you in pain. "Can you answer me verbally, baby?"
It takes you a second, but eventually you say, "Cum for me, Nick."
And that's all it took. One. Two. And three more long juts of his hard length grinding against your hip and he releases himself. He groans, feeling relieved. His cock enlarges, abs flexing, mushroom head a deep red shooting his load onto your skin. Nick cums a lot, his body and mind in sync - excited to be back with you, so close. Together. By the time he's done, he collected himself enough to pull back and stare at your face. He pulls back his arms and with each hand, he spreads both of your seeds onto each of your waists. Him on you. And you on him.
Warm silence wraps around you both. The mix of the moment, your blissfulness, and the time spent apart causes you to kiss Nick. He immediately reciprocates, pushing back softly against you. He wants to rememorize you, even if it takes one slow kiss at a time. He pulls back and laughs. It's pure joy, relief, and love at what you both just did.
Nick turns back onto his back, the blanket immediately latching onto his abs, where your cum is drying. You settle against his side, laying your head onto the muscle of his big pectoral. His heart is racing, but is starting to slow from the adrenaline. Yours is too.
"We'll talk about us, later, yeah? After the game," Nick brings up. But you're already half-asleep. You barely register his words to give a nod. You fall back asleep. Nick joins you, only after making sure that you were comfortable on him. Back in his arms.
You miss it when he says, "I love you," before he, too, falls back asleep.
Author's Note 2: Halfway through this as I began to think more about the rest of this series and how the rest of the movie plays out, I decided to add some more fluffy moments between male reader and Nick, because honestly I don't know where else I could include them after like the next scene. If I add anything even remotely fluffy in like the last hour of the movie, then it's gonna feel really out of place and strange💀. I'll try to figure stuff out some more, but, oh boy, get ready for everything that male reader, Nick, and everyone else will face. Also also, I might have to change this from Part Two to maybe Three or Four since I don't know how much of the movie I'm actually going to tackle per fic part in the future.
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© 2026 magicae-writes-stars
I will not be reblogging each of my works onto this blog after this single instance (and I already feel ill for doing this), but because of my previous pinned post about the announcement of my mlm fanfic blog @magicae-writes-stars being up and a soon™ for the release of my first fic, I felt required to give this update. So, here it is :D!
If anyone from this blog heads over there and enjoys it, it would mean the world to me. It took me a bit longer than I thought it would, but I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. I don't know if I'll ever get to write anything else longer than this - its my longest single written work of fiction (just eased its way past my recent short story submission irl) - but too never say never🤞, I'm glad it's this fic that will carry the mantle.
