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kierthurs · 3 years

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hi! i saw your requests open and immediately came running... may i have hosea being parental over a gender neutral reader? maybe defending them from micah or bill and being Very Concerned Dad afterward....

ofc ofc! sorry if this took a little bit, i rewrote it twice and my skills are a bit rusty !!!

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(cw: m*cah being a dick. like seriously he's being horrible and pokes at insecurities that'll later be proved incorrect, but it may hurt to read!!! there's also minor minor violence in the form of a well deserved slap)

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That day, the sun was bright and the clouds were sparse. It was perfect, with warmth and sunshine abundant, the best kind of weather for a good day.

However, in your heart, something just felt off. Even after a few hours had passed, you just couldn't pinpoint what it was.

At least, you couldn't until Micah showed up.

"Hey, slowpoke," He said, creeping up next to you as you were sat down, eating. You raised an eyebrow.

"What do you want, Micah?" You asked, swallowing your food quickly and squinting suspiciously at him. He forced out a passive aggressive smile.

"What I want is to tell you what you've been doin' wrong," He began, his smile shifting into a grin, "And that's practically everything."

You suddenly felt a wave of worry rush through you. What did he mean, what you'd been doing wrong? Did you do something wrong? Had Dutch sent him?

Before you could finish your train of thought, you were once again interrupted.

"You're useless, my friend. You don't go out very often, I ain't hardly ever see you do any chores.. you can't even help with the food you're eatin' so greedily over here," he snarled. You blanked.

"I.. what?" You muttered, feeling nervous. He stared at you, a malicious glint in his eye as he kept smiling.

"I said, you're useless. Just take a look at all you do- well, all you don't do. You ain't even providing services and company like the women," Micah's voice kept getting more croaky, something akin to laughter within it.

You felt heat rush to your face, and your eyes watered with embarrassment. If Micah had noticed your lack of work, that meant everyone else probably had, too.

"I can see it on your face that you know I'm right, don't you? You're, well, you're worthless. Futile. You serve no purpo-" His voice got progressively louder, drowning out your anxious thoughts, when he suddenly got cut off.

"Micah, what in the hell are you saying?"

Hosea's angry face appeared in your peripheral vision, his brows furrowed deeply and his teeth visibly gritting. Micah's expression, for a few seconds, went stone cold.

"I ain't saying nothin', boss. Just reminding them of what they need to be doing," Micah shrugged as he spoke. You felt your stomach lurch.

"No, you goddamn ain't," Hosea spat, taking a broad step in Micah's direction, "I'm not a big fan of calling people out for their mistakes but that most certainly wasn't a reminder. It was a threat."

Micah swallowed. His eyes darted from Hosea to you, his hands finally quivering a tiny bit as Hosea inched closer.

"C'mon, Hosea! Give a guy a break. All I did was mess up my words, I promise," Micah's voice began to get quieter. Hosea glared daggers into him, and you shuffled backwards to get away. Before you could get far, though, you were shocked into place.

"You're a goddamn menace to society," Was the last thing Hosea said before delivering a firm slap to Micah's face. Micah let out a surprised grunt and nearly toppled to the ground, barely able to keep his balance.

"What the hell, old man?" He shouted, rubbing his cheek soothingly.

"Oh, don't you 'what the hell' me, Micah. You're a liar and a cheat, and I don't appreciate being told folk tales about your lack of empathy for other people." Hosea's teeth audibly clicked as he yelled at Micah.

"And don't you dare start lying to me or them again. You may think you're really something, that everyone besides you is lower than dirt, but that just makes you a fool. You owe me an apology, you owe them an apology, and you owe an apology to whatever cursed deity created you."

There was a tense silence that lingered in the air for a few seconds. Micah blinked and backed away, jogging off in the direction of Dutch's tent. Hosea didn't really seem to care.

"Are you alright?" He asked you, his face going from void to filled with compassion. You shrugged.

"I.. I don't know, Hosea. I'm barely even sure of what just happened," you explained. From how he reacted, he seemed to understand.

He gently grabbed you by the shoulder and pulled you in for a hug, ignoring your soft gasp of surprise.

"It's alright. What I did just now was plain stupid, speaking my mind without thought, but it just means there's a better chance of you being okay."

You felt slight confusion through the warmth of his embrace.

"..What do you mean?"

He sighed.

"Dutch won't like what I did, but it doesn't matter. I just wanted you to know that Micah was truly wrong. You're a valuable person, and everyone knows that, especially me. You care for others without a solid reason to, you have sympathy for those who lack your experience and skills.. You're a perfectly good part of this family, and I'm glad to have you here," he rambled for a little while. You could tell he was speaking from his heart, gushing out like a bleeding heart, and small tears sprung in your eyes.

"Thank you, Hosea," you replied quietly, feeling his hand ruffle through your hair lightly.

"You're welcome, kid."

#rdr2 #requests #writing #hosea matthews #asks

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ayyponine · 7 years

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for english i had five diff classes and one of them only got one lesson. they clapped after? pure lil fucks bye see you again never tfw you get the hang of the special smartboard functions mmm look at me highlighting shit with the pen tool MMM also when afterwards you get yr feedback but instead of straight up telling you they go “how do you think it went?” and you nail what they were gonna say B) fininshing up JUSt as the bell rings MMM using cool videos fr yr class on body language B))) turns out kids still like mr Bean also with my vid from the shaun of the dead (when he’s on the phone and the body language doesnt match the verbal info)... it was titled “eloooo its me” in youtube and when i asked the kids like do yall remember whos calling him one of em just went ADELE. quality banter did i mention that day i low key roasted a kid. girl was giving me attitude and turning to the person behind her to talk and i confused her with a girl with the same hair and attitude from my other class so i called her the wrong name and when she was like ughh! i just said im teaching 8 classes yall... maybe if i’d seen your face a bit more i wouldve gotten it right can you tell that this happened during my second week aka the week i gave zero fucks. this was my last lesson with that class so i figured like girl...big deal if i get yr name wrong, you’ll never have to see me again after. deal with it the second week was a lot of fun in general i think bc being stern with the kids is a big hurdle and i was given the advice to work on that. so the second week i was just like aight. no doormat behaviour imma fckn go for this shit hard. and i did. and i was a boss ok theres smth extremely satisfying abt writing on the chalk board and getting chalk on yr hands? idek i got to write on a whiteboard as well btw. thats right i wrote on all the boards. turns out my chalk writing is a bit loopy, while marker on whiteboard is big and pointier. the smart board was a bit of a mess bc the calibration was slightly off but the mentor insisted i use it so ah well tfw yr kids can spell utility room no problem (possibly bc you paid some special attention to that in class) but then write celler. ettic. menchon. going to work in a fancy dress shirt and black trousers but also.... converse sneakers and socks with lil hearts on em. im an adult tfw theyre working on a test and the classroom is dead silent. with you on a step in the front overlooking the scene. it’s a powerful feeling ngl just because it’s finally fucking quiet it’s kinda weird fuckin with their heads just a lil bc a volunteer reads out the correct answer in present simple “you look like an angel” and instead of saying good, next please youre just like oh :>> why thank you pulling the exact same joke when you do that exercise in the next class because you’re a total dad and love the confusion and surprise on their lil faces and ofc this interaction i had with some of my sixteen yr olds (in dutch, soz) “mevrouw, weet ge wat hij zegt over u?” “oei, wil ik het wel weten.” “hij zegt met haar wil ik eens iets gaan eten” “ha, alee dan. het probleem is wel, ik ga alleen eten, op date met mensen wanneer ze 20, 22 jaar oud zijn.” “alee mevrouw! wilt gij op hem wachten” “awel, da’s goed. als ik tegen dan nog niet van ‘t straat ben weet je mij te vinden.” “......mevrouw woont gij op straat!?” fukn classic (btw disclaimer no i dont plan on ever having dinner with him. im certain by that time we’ll both have forgotten god bless) also i think i already mentioned the kid i took aside to talk with? i hope he’s okay man i got a soft spot for kids like that who are actually super smart and got a lot to contribute to class in their own way but then get in trouble with teachers bc of their behaviour and get sort of pigeonholed for it :// i low key want to shelter them frm all harm bc in my experience?? theyre good kids. maybe the best out of all of em. also my sixteen yr olds asked me if i was part taiwanese?? i always get super amused when people guess weird races fr my white ass ive heard stuff like bulgaria or pakistan but theyve never gone this far east so that was intriguing

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champhangman · 4 years

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Fireworks

Title: Fireworks Part: One / ? Characters: Matt Jackson x OFC Summary: I was captured by that stare. Now I'm shattered, but I don't care Word Count: 3251 Warnings: Mild cursing. A/N: This fic will, eventually, involve cheating, so if that is something you don’t want to read, please don’t. And if you’d like to be removed from the tag list for this please let me know. Again, cheating. My feelings won’t be hurt if you choose to not read this. :) A/N 2: This one’s for @superkickparty, because she’s wonderful and lovely and deserves a Matt fic.

Tagging: @adampage / @cowboyshit / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy / @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @wardl0w / @what-does-mine-say / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger / @mysteryoflovve / @knnyomega / @rampagewriting / @hurricanranabaybay

Part One

After thanking the Uber driver again, Cora Monroe grabbed the handle of her suitcase and walked the few yards along the sidewalk to the hotel entrance. She spotted two men talking just outside the door and, recognizing them, slowed to a stop. Her grip on the suitcase handle tightened and she inwardly panicked, not having expected to meet them so quickly. She was wearing flip-flops, for crying out loud. Her hair was a mess, she still felt grimy from the long flight, and she had planned on getting a shower before letting them know she was there.

Maybe they wouldn't recognize her, she thought. Still hesitating, she pulled out her phone and double-checked the message she'd gotten the day before, verifying the time she was supposed to meet Matt and Nick. She was cutting it close, and the longer she stood there like a fool, the less time she would have to make herself presentable.

She had taken one step forward when both men looked to her. Neither face showed recognition and she felt relieved when Nick turned to Matt and began to talk. Matt, though, continued looking at her as she approached. It unnerved her, his unblinking stare, but she smiled anyway.

Then her eyes met his and she heard music.

It was a brief clip, coming from a car going by on the street, but it resonated in her, and she stopped walking, phone nearly slipping from her hand. It would be rude to look away, right? So she maintained the eye contact. Even when Nick spoke, she continued looking into Matt's eyes, instantly drawn in and unwilling to break the stare. She saw them lighten with detection and wondered why his recognizing her made her feel happy.

"Hi… I'm Cora," she said softly. "The new assistant?"

Matt blinked, long eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks briefly. His eyes were smiling when they opened, and she sensed rather than saw the smile lifting his lips. "We were just talking about you."

"All good, I hope." She should look away. She almost didn't like the maintained eye contact, feeling with each second as though she were being stripped bare before him. And yet, she enjoyed the sensation that he understood her.

"We were just hoping you'd show up." This from Nick, accompanied by a chuckle.

"Why wouldn't I show?" she asked.

There was an electronic chirp and Matt looked away quickly, ducking his head to look at his phone. She felt her breath leave her slowly and blinked before looking to Nick.

"The last person we hired met us then disappeared," he answered, grinning. "Texted us that she quit the next day."

"Are you that bad?" Cora blurted without thinking.

"No, turned out she had family trouble. And we're not bad, as long as you get Matt's Starbucks order right and don't talk to him until he's had his coffee."

Matt rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards Cora, lips settling into a flat line. He gave his head a small shake. "I'm not that much of an ass."

"He is," Nick whispered loudly.

"Am not." Matt jerked a thumb towards his brother. "He's the one you have to be worried about."

"You went on a thirty-minute rant about coffee."

"Coffee is important to me," Matt insisted.

"How difficult is your coffee order?" she asked, muffling her giggle behind her hand.

Their eyes met again, and this time she was better prepared. She took note of the honey color that reminded her of the rocks beneath the trickling waters of a stream. She heard him draw in a breath to speak, and he groaned when his phone chirped again. Looking down, he let out a sigh. "It's not that hard, promise. Excuse me."

Cora made a mental note to not get pulled into eye contact with the man again. Nick was talking and she had barely heard half of what he'd said, knowing only that it was some sort of reassurance that they weren't trying to scare her away from the job. Fully turning to him when Matt stepped away, phone pushed to his ear, she smiled. "I'm just gonna get checked in and everything, okay? We're supposed to meet in about an hour, right?"

"Yeah. I've got you in my phone, I'll text you our room number," he promised, eyebrows pinching together as he glanced at Matt. But his smile was genuine when he looked at her. "Great meeting you, Cora."

"You too," she murmured, although she felt she had hardly met the man. She felt almost guilty for all but ignoring him, especially considering he was one of her bosses, but promised herself she would make up for it later.

"See you in a bit," Matt said, drawing her gaze to him yet again. His smile was faint as he gave her a quick wave, which she returned while heading inside.

"Get a grip," she muttered under her breath as she approached the desk to check in.

She pushed Matt and his pretty eyes out of her mind, starting to feel the effects of the long hours she had spent on the flight. Knowing she would have to get used to it, and wondering if she ever would, she dragged herself up to her room and straight into the shower. It was tempting to turn the water to hot so she could relax, and the bed looked more inviting that she had thought it would. But she kept the water cool to invigorate herself, then turned the TV on to an obnoxious cartoon so she wouldn't be lured into trying to catch a quick nap.

Her phone pealed with an incoming message while she dressed and she reached for it, brow furrowing as she read the words.

It's Nick. What's your Starbucks order?

Wasn't that supposed to be her question to him? Leaning against the dresser, she quickly replied, typing out her usual coffee order. But isn't getting coffee my job?

His reply came as she was brushing her hair into a ponytail. Yes, but officially you don't start until this afternoon. You want anything else?

No, thanks. About to set her phone aside so she could finish getting ready, she stopped when she saw that he was replying.

You can head to the room whenever. Matt's there. The room number was at the end, and she made note of it before setting her phone down.

She refused to rush, but barely fifteen minutes passed before she was gathering her things and heading up to their room. It was just one floor up so she took the stairs, still too tired of sitting and standing still to ride the elevator. Smiling faintly at the housekeeper that was pushing her cart along the hallway, she found the room and knocked, bouncing the toe of her left shoe against the floor while she waited. When there was no answer after two minutes she knocked again, louder this time, then heard a muffled voice growing louder.

"…not going to be able to this week, because – Hey, c'mon in," Matt greeted as he pulled the door open. He ducked his head when she walked past him then closed the door, leaning against it while he spoke into his phone. "Cora. The new assistant… Yes, I did."

Cora inwardly winced at his tone and, keeping her back to him, walked over to the window to give him some semblance of privacy. She stepped around two suitcases and noted the unmade beds and wondered if he and Nick always shared a room. Looking out at the city, she focused on the cars and people she could see so that she wouldn't hear whatever he was saying.

"Cora?"

She turned, saw him carefully setting his phone down on the dresser. "Hi. Sorry for interrupting, but Nick told me to come on up."

"No worries."

He wasn't really looking at her, she noticed. To her left or to her right, or down at the little table in front of the window. She could feel tension rolling off him in tight waves, made more evident by the way his shoulders were slightly lifted. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned against the dresser, looking straight ahead at the colorful artwork hanging above the bed.

"Was your flight okay?" he asked after a moment, and she got the feeling that he hated silence. It made sense, from what she had seen of him during shows and interviews. The Matt Jackson she had seen was usually high-energy, almost manic at times, always cracking jokes and making faces.

But she knew that he had to be different when he wasn't being Matt Jackson the wrestler. Matt Jackson the person had to be a dialed down version of the man she admired as a wrestler. "It was fine," she said, finally setting her shoulder bag on the table. "There was a four-hour delay for my connection, but other than that everything was okay."

"You're in Vegas?"

"For the next week, yeah."

"Right, right, you said during the interview you're moving back to California." He nodded, glancing her way, and she got a brief glimpse at his eyes before he swiveled his gaze to the wall again.

She was surprised he remembered. She was still surprised she'd gotten the job, having assumed her lack of experience had pushed her to the bottom of applicants. And the interview had been short, done via video chat early one morning, when the internet in her apartment had been lagging and she had worried the video would drop before they finished. She couldn't even remember half of what had been said, other than generic questions about her organizational skills and her ability to change plans at a moment's notice.

She knew she hadn't been arrested by Matt's eyes, though.

There was a soft click then the door swung open and Cora felt the tension ease when Nick entered the room, drink caddy in hand. She accepted her cup with a grateful smile and took a sip. Placebo effect she was sure, but she could feel her body immediately pulling from its exhaustion and gave a small sigh.

"You won't have any trouble remembering Matt's order," Nick said with a chuckle, tossing the empty caddy into the trash.

"I won't?" she asked.

"She won't?" Matt lifted the lid from his cup to check inside.

"It's the same order as hers," Nick pointed out.

"Yeah?" Matt's grin was contagious. "She's obviously a woman of great taste."

"Well, yeah," Cora drawled, lifting her cup for another sip. "I'm working for y'all, right?"

***

Matt fidgeted throughout the short meeting. He hated being restless, especially when the energy kicked in when he wasn't about to have a match. And he couldn't explain the sudden agitation in his body. He could have chalked it up to his less than relaxing phone conversation with Layla, but that was nothing new. He'd grown proficient at letting the stress from her calls either roll off his back or sink low enough within him to be ignored.

He kept looking at Cora, something he didn't want to do. Not that she was repulsive. The exact opposite, in fact, with her dark blonde hair that made him think of sandy beaches, and her warm smile that seemed to light up her face and her eyes.

He refused to think about her eyes. The shade of them, a light blue-green that reminded him of exotic waters he hadn't been privileged to see in person. Their brilliance when they'd met outside brought forth by the sunshine. How, once he'd looked into them, he hadn't wanted to look away.

How, in the space of five seconds, he had felt as though he knew her and could trust her.

He looked at her each time she spoke but tried to keep his gaze on anything but her eyes. That didn't work because his eyes kept drifting to hers. Somehow, she looked to him each time and their eyes met and he had to force himself to look away. Knee bouncing frantically, fingers drumming against his thighs, he looked down, focusing on the new pair of Jordans he'd just bought the other day. He didn't know why looking into her eyes bothered him.

No, it didn't bother him. It just unnerved him.

Which made no sense. He loved eye contact. Had practically made a gimmick of it at one point when signing autographs, enjoying the laughter he would get while staring intensely into someone's eyes.

It hadn't been intense downstairs, though. It had been… He pressed his lips together in thought. Natural. It had felt natural and normal. Unexpected, but expected. Scary, but calming.

As soon as she spoke again, he was lifting his eyes. Watching her, her head bent as she made notes on her tablet, admiring the way the late morning sun danced on her hair. Her head lifted, their eyes met, and he couldn't look away.

His fingers stopped drumming. The bouncing knee slowed, then ceased. He could still feel the anxious energy zipping rapidly through his body but didn't feel the need to express it. Nick spoke and he nodded when he caught the question in his brother's tone, though he had no idea what he was agreeing to.

Cora's eyes lit with a smile and he felt his stomach drop.

A foot jabbed his calf and he hissed, jerking his head to glare at Nick. "What?"

Nick's face pinched slightly. "Cora asked you a question."

"She did?" He cleared his throat and, rubbing where Nick had kicked him, shifted to look at her. "You did?"

"I did?" She blinked, and her cheeks darkened with embarrassment as she looked down. "Yes. I did. Sorry…"

While she asked the question, he sensed movement next to him. After answering, he glanced to Nick and found him starting to laugh. He went back over his answer in his mind, decided it hadn't been a stupid one, and kicked his brother in return.

Nick stopped laughing and moved away. "Son of a—"

Matt snorted on his own laughter when Nick glanced to Cora and murmured an apology. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath. Then, looking back to her, he smiled apologetically. "I promise, we're housebroken."

"But are you trained?" she asked sweetly.

"Working on it," Nick assured her.

Her laugh was a snorted giggle and Matt found himself laughing, too.

And it felt so good to laugh.

***

It was a crush. A stupid, incomprehensible crush. Like one she would have had on a boyband singer when she was a teenager. Or the one she and dozens of girls had had on the cute basketball player, the one with the flip of hair that always fell over his forehead and eyes too pretty for a boy.

She knew it was stupid, but there was nothing she could do about it.

She was sure she hid it well. She'd been working for he and his brother for a month now, and she'd only gotten lost in Matt's eyes a handful of times.

Only once a week. Always at the same time, too. He always stood in the doorway of his hotel room, asking her to refresh his memory on meet and greets or signings that were scheduled while he sipped the coffee she had brought him. And, halfway through his cup, he would lift his head and smile. The conversation would lapse, she would get a little lost, and she would begin to wax poetic in her mind.

That, she told herself, wasn't her fault. Not as though she could change the fact that, in the mornings, his eyes were dark and rich, like the honey she liked to stir into her hot tea. Or that, as the caffeine kicked in, they grew luminous and warm and inviting, reminiscent of the sun's rays slanting across an unmade bed.

Anyone would get lost in his eyes.

Then, one of two things would happen. Matt would blink, give his head a shake, and tell her he'd see her later. Or Nick would appear, greeting her and breaking the little daze she was in. Either way, she was able to avoid it happening again.

Until the next week. Until the morning of the show, when she would make the trip back from Starbucks, knowing full well that she should hand over the coffee and go across the hall to her room. Knowing full well that she wouldn't.

It was easier to avoid once they got to the arena. There were always countless things to do. Merch sales to gather, wrestlers to check in with, emails to answer, errands to run. She was certain she lost ten pounds in the first two weeks, running back and forth as much as she did. It was more hectic than her work in Vegas had been, the time constraints tighter than those of the performers she had worked for.

She had moved into her tiny studio apartment in southern California. Smaller than her apartment in Vegas, it cost more and had fewer amenities, but she had felt the need to relocate. And it was nice, living closer to her best friend. A thirty-minute drive was a lot easier than having to take a flight or a four-hour drive, and now they were able to spend more time with each other, which they hadn't done since graduating high school.

Downside being that she was busy even when she was at home. Emails, scheduling, merchandise, flights, rental cars, and Uber rides. Neither Matt nor Nick called or texted her when she was at home, except the occasional text asking her to add something to the schedule. She just wished she could see Matt's name flash on her screen without her stomach fluttering.

Just a crush.

A crush.

She'd get over it. She sure as hell wasn't about to fall into the cliché of trying to get with her boss, for god's sake. She'd seen too many personal assistants fall, get burned, and be left jobless with barely their dignity to keep them together. Surely she was stronger than a crush?

Muffling a yawn against her shoulder as she walked down the hallway, she sighed when she reached his door. She tapped softly, knowing he was awake because he had texted her already, and waited for the door to open. She could do this. The crush was surely starting to fade by now. Smiling the door opened, she felt her stomach dip and wiggle as Matt came into view.

"Good morning," she said, trying her best to sound normal while handing over his coffee.

"Morning." His voice was groggy with sleep. His hair was a tousled mess, and when he propped one shoulder in the doorway she saw he wore only a pair of sweatpants.

Fucking hell, she thought, taking a gulp of her coffee. It singed her tongue and she focused on the pain, forcing her gaze to stay on a spot beyond his shoulder.

"What have we got today?" he asked after taking a few sips.

She told him, unable to keep from looking at the way his hair fell over his shoulders. Or the way he gripped the cup, as though it were a lifeline.

He nodded. Then, releasing a soft sigh, he lifted his head. He blinked once, then his gaze focused on her, and she saw one corner of his mouth tilt upward.

And she got lost yet again.

#matt jackson #matt jackson fanfiction #aew fanfiction #mutlipart:F #my fics #it's fine i'm fine everything's fine #worst timing to post a fic?? yes #have y'all noticed that my first parts are always short and then they just get longer and longer

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champhangman · 4 years

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No Other

Title: No Other Characters: Nick Jackson x OFC Part: Two of ? Summary: I don’t know the loneliness you’ve known. I don’t hear the frosty words echo inside. Word Count: 4,868 Warnings: n/a A/N: I honestly didn’t expect the reaction to the first part of this. Y’all blew me away. Thanks for all the asks/messages/comments!

Tagging: @adampage / @cowboyshit / @baysexuality / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy / @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @allizoneme / @heelsamizayn / @what-does-mine-say / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger / @merchfreak / @markostuntthesehoes / @mysteryoflovve / @knnyomega /

Two

"You haven't been to the ring?!"

Nick tried to choke back his laughter. But it began to escape as a giggle and only worsened when Jasmine huffed with annoyance. She shot him an irritated look, which made his giggles increase in volume. Next to him, Matt was beginning to cackle, too. Of the four of them, only Jasmine and Brandon weren't laughing. Brandon still looked incredulous that she hadn't been out to the ring since she'd started working for them two weeks before. And Jasmine was obviously annoyed by his and Matt's laughter.

"I don't wrestle. There's no need for me to go to the ring," she said carefully.

"Yes, there is," Brandon insisted.

"What reason would I have to go out there? I've popped out into the arena a couple of times to get crowd shots, I don't need—" Jasmine cut off with a groan when Brandon began to shake his head. "Now what?"

"Come on." He held out a hand. "I'm taking you to the ring and giving you a tour."

"It's a square with ropes, I think I can skip a tour—"

"You can tell your niece all about it," Nick attempted to entice after his laughter subsided.

She turned to him, still ignoring Brandon's hand. "What?"

"You said she loves to watch now," he explained. She probably didn't remember that conversation, the one they'd had at the end of her first week. When she'd said her niece had wanted to stay up way too late watching episodes of Dynamite and asking a million questions. "You can take a video of the ring to show her."

"I could," she murmured, biting her lip. "Okay, fine, I'll go check out the ring. But I'm not getting in it."

Nick shook his head and looked to his friend. "Brandon?"

Their friend's grin was wide and conspiring. "Don't worry."

"Oh god, what are you gonna do?" Jasmine muttered as Brandon led her away.

Matt turned to Nick. "Aren't you going?"

"Why would I?" Nick asked, eyes still on Jasmine and Brandon.

"To give her a tour of the ring."

Nick made a face and finally looked to his brother. "It's a square with ropes, Matt, hardly a museum. Besides, Bran can give her a tour just as well as I could."

"Oh. Okay. I see. We're still pretending you don't have a boner for her." Matt nodded manically. "My bad."

"I really hate you sometimes," Nick sighed.

"Where are you going?"

He hadn't noticed he'd started walking away. Stopping, he heaved a sigh. "To the ring?"

The grin on Matt's face was gleeful. "Really?"

"You're such a prick."

"You love me."

"I don't like you much."

"Be sure and give her a thorough tour!" Matt called after him.

He turned to throw up both middle fingers, but his brother was already going in the opposite direction. Smug laughter echoed behind him and, with a sigh, Nick headed out to the ring.

Jasmine was standing ringside with Brandon, laughing at something Sammy said from inside the ring. She shook her head, ponytail swinging, when Brandon gestured to the steps. "No, no, I couldn't," she said when Nick reached the ring. "One of you might decide to make me your new practice dummy."

"I would never," Sammy protested, throwing up his hands. "Hey, Nick – Nick, tell her to come on and get in the ring."

"I already did," he said with a shrug. "She won't."

"But why?" Sammy asked, confusion etched in his face as he turned to Jasmine. "Don't you like wrestling?"

"It's… Well, I can definitely see the appeal," she said diplomatically.

"The answer would be no, then." Brandon shook his head. "And I thought we would be friends."

"I do like it. I'll admit I didn't start watching until a few weeks ago, but I've become a fan. And—"

"Yeah? Who's your favorite?" Sammy asked, leaning against the ropes.

"Yeah, Jasmine, who's your favorite?" Brandon folded his arms.

"Leave her alone guys," Nick groaned, hating the brief look of panic that flashed across her face. "It's obviously neither of you two idiots."

"He's such a supportive friend," Brandon snorted.

Jasmine's laugh echoed around them. "I couldn't pick a favorite. Everyone I've seen I like for different reasons. Some just have an intensity that has me holding my breath. And then there are the ones who are just so powerful it blows me away."

Nick smiled. She was still being diplomatic, but he liked knowing that she was enjoying the product. Her eyes swiveled to him and he saw her lips curve into a smile.

"And there are a couple that just have so much energy and their passion is obvious. I guess they're my favorites, really, because they take my breath away and have me holding my breath at the same time." She looked away, ducking her head for a brief moment. When she raised it, her cheeks were lightly tinged with pink. "But I refuse to inflate your egos and say you're my favorites when I enjoy everyone equally."

"You should be in politics," Sammy groaned, ducking between the ropes and hopping to the floor. "It's okay, Jazz, I know I'm your fave."

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "If it makes you sleep better at night, sure."

"Come on," Brandon said, chuckling. "Up the steps."

"But—"

"You can't do a video of the ring for your niece from outside," Nick told her, boosting himself onto the apron and rolling into the ring. "And I promise, nobody's gonna use you as a dummy."

With a sigh, she approached the steps and mounted them. Stepping onto the apron, she hesitated.

"C'mon." Nick sat on the middle rope and held the top rope up so she could easily step through. Once she was in the ring he jumped to his feet, reaching to steady her when she wavered.

"I didn't know it would be so bouncy," she murmured.

"You get used to it."

"Easy for you to say."

Leaning against the turnbuckle, Nick looked on as she slowly walked across the ring. She didn't like it, he could tell. Whether it was because she felt like she was the center of attention, or because of the way the ring dipped slightly with each step, he wasn't sure. After a moment, though, he could see her unease start to slip away, and when she turned she was smiling again.

"My niece would love it," she said softly, slipping her phone from her pocket. "She's already trying to flip off the back of the couch after watching some episodes."

"Her parents must hate that."

"Yeah, her mom is always diving to catch her." Jasmine raised her phone. "Is it alright if I show you in the video?"

"Sure." He grabbed the ropes and jumped to sit on the top turnbuckle.

"Matt wants me to film something backstage," Brandon announced. When Nick looked over to him, he saw his friend was giving him an odd smile. "See you later."

"What's he need to film?" Nick asked. Hadn't they gotten all the scenes they were going to get that day?

"He didn't say."

Confused, Nick watched his friend jog around the ramp and disappear behind one of the curtains. About to reach for his phone to find out from Matt what they'd forgotten to film, he stopped when he turned and saw Jasmine pointing her phone at him.

"That's Nick, one of my bosses. He made me get in the ring," she said, a giggle escaping as Nick waved enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I really twisted your arm," he scoffed.

"He did," she insisted. "But he's my boss, so I've got to do what he says."

Nick tilted his head and squinted at her, enjoying watching her cheeks tinge pink before she turned to film the arena. She pointed out the commentary booth, and the area she usually stood to film bits to post on social media. Shaking his head, he jumped down and approached her, laughing when she teetered. "Here," he said, reaching around her to lightly grasp her wrist. "You're gonna make her sick if you don't keep your arm steady."

"I'm not good at filming," she pointed out.

"Obviously. Don't move so fast. It makes the video blurry and shaky."

"So I've got to start over?" she asked softly.

"Nah, I'll cut and edit it for you."

She twisted slightly to look at him. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Sure. Just shoot it to my email and I'll do it before the show."

"Thanks." Her smile was bright, and when she turned to face forward, he caught a faint whiff of floral perfume.

Keeping his hand on her wrist, he watched the screen of the phone, gently guiding her to turn slowly to redo what she'd done. With each breath he got another hint of her perfume. It was faintly exotic, subtly sweet, and he had a sudden urge to dip his head to breathe it in deeper. Steeling himself, he gave his head a small shake and focused on helping her film the short video for her niece.

After they had finished, after she had thanked him profusely, after he had gone backstage to see what Matt had needed to film, he could still smell her perfume.

***

She was really getting the hang of it. Traveling for work was still nerve-wracking, but each week was a little easier. After the first week the number of things she packed lessened dramatically.

Everyone she met was nice. Some seemed to go out of their way to make her feel welcome, stopping to chat with her and ask how she was doing. Others were polite but obviously didn't want to become best friends, which didn't hurt her feelings. After two weeks her phone had three times as many numbers saved as it ever had before, and she was in so many group chats she couldn't keep up.

Jasmine loved it. The work portion of her job was relatively easy. She would be assigned tasks to complete during and after the show and learned she was able to do quite a few beforehand and schedule them for posting, giving her free time to slip out into the arena to catch some of the show. She appreciated that she wasn't expected to sit hunched in front of a computer for the duration.

On her second week, she had an idea that would generate more content and interaction. After getting Dylan's okay, she was told it was up to her to approach Cody, Matt, Nick, Kenny, or Tony with the idea.

Tony? She couldn't. He was the most likable man in the world but she was still a little overwhelmed whenever she spoke to him. The man talked constantly. And she had the feeling that her simple request would turn into a forty-five-minute conversation.

She decided to leave it up to fate and approached the room that the Elite were using as their office and locker room. Cody was in a separate room that he was using with his wife, and she saw the door was closed. Although he was approachable and friendly, she didn't want to disturb him and went to the room down the hallway. She hoped that Nick was there and receptive to her idea. Out of all of them, he was the most approachable. The others were friendly, and Matt tended to crack jokes that made her snort, but Nick was one of the few in the company that went out of his way to make her feel welcome and included.

She had thought that would fade with time, but each week it seemed he sought her out. To make sure she had settled into her role comfortably. To show her his edit of the little video she had done of the ring. To give her a bag with various shirts and jackets bearing the company logo. He'd even included shirts for her niece. She kept telling herself that he was just being nice. Even when he walked her to her car at the end of the night. He would have done the same for anyone. Wouldn't he?

Seeing that the door was ajar, she drew in a breath. She could hear the men talking inside and directed her gaze to the floor as she rapped, just in case they were changing.

"Yeah, come on in." The door pulled open and Kenny smiled down at her. "Jazzy, good to see you."

"Hi," she greeted, stepping just inside the door. Seeing Brandon across the room, camera in hand, she hesitated. "I'm not interrupting filming, am I?"

"No, no, we just finished." This from Matt, who was drying his hands on a towel.

She glanced around and saw that Nick wasn't there. Swallowing her disappointment, she returned Adam's nod of greeting. She wasn't there to get an eyeful of the man. She was there to propose her idea. Feeling slightly unnerved by four pairs of eyes on her, she cleared her throat. "I had an idea for social media and was told I have to run it by y'all."

"Hold on, we need Nick so the vote can be fair," Matt said. "Nick! Hurry up!"

"No rush!" she added.

"He's in the shower," Matt told her. "Go on and have a seat."

She hadn't needed to know he was showering. Moving to sit on the couch next to Adam, she slipped her phone from her pocket so she could have her informal proposal at the ready. Although she'd learned that ideas were tossed out and accepted regularly without anything being written down, she'd typed up her ideas and included a lengthy list of pros and even a few cons, as well as the logistics of how and when.

"Since I don't have a vote, what's the idea?" Adam asked, turning to face her when Kenny and Matt began discussing whatever they had just filmed.

"Oh, live question-and-answer sessions with wrestlers. We announce it ahead of time then I pull questions and ask them live on Instagram, and post clips on Twitter." She smiled hopefully. "Would that be something you'd do?"

He pondered, head tilting from one side to the other before he began to nod. "Yeah, that could be cool. How long would it be?"

"Not long. Fifteen, twenty minutes tops."

"And you'd field the questions?"

"Unless they want someone else to do it." She hoped they wouldn't. She had enough vanity to want it to be her to see her idea through. She didn't care for the spotlight, but she didn't think anyone else could do it the way she imagined it going in her head.

"You're the social media lady, though," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm not an interviewer." She shrugged lightly. "It hasn't been approved yet, anyway."

"That your proposal?" he asked. "Lemme see."

Sighing, she handed over her phone.

"You misspelled 'session' twice," he told her.

"I did not—"

"What's the rush? We've got plenty of time until – Oh."

Jasmine turned her head to see Nick walking from the shower room. As soon as her eyes landed on him, she caught the wave of humid air that carried with it the scent of shampoo and soap. She'd never seen him with his hair wet. Damp with sweat after a match, but never wet. Her gaze instinctively dipped to the towel he held at his waist. Spotting a drop of water trickling over his abdomen, she slowly raised her eyes to his face. She felt overheated and couldn't understand why. She regularly saw good looking men showing more skin than he was now.

"It's me, I'm the rush," she said, needing to fill the silence.

Next to her, Adam snorted. She fought the urge to slam her elbow into him and pulled her phone from his hand.

"What's up?" Nick asked.

She watched him rake his hand through his wet hair and bit her tongue when droplets of water rained down his chest. Would it have killed the man to get all the water out before leaving the shower? His eyebrows lifted briefly and she let out a tiny sigh when he reached to adjust the towel.

"Jazzy," Matt called, and she was reminded that she was there for a purpose other than staring at Nick. "What was your idea?"

"Oh. Right. Um." She pressed her lips together and looked at her phone. "Sorry. Give me a second to get my thoughts straight."

She sensed Adam moving and glanced over to see him shaking. With laughter. The bastard. Why was he even there? Didn't he have his own locker room?

"Jasmine?"

Jasmine. He always called her Jasmine. Never Jazz or Jazzy. Adam was Hangy. Kenny was Ken. Brandon was Bran. Tony was Tone. Everyone, it seemed, was either a nickname or a shortened version of their name. Everyone except her. And though she loved the sound of her name coming from his lips, it hurt a little that she wasn't worthy of a nickname.

Forcing her lips into a smile, she launched into her idea. Halfway through, she could tell they were agreeable, and rattled off the generalities of the specifics. "I know it's very similar to the BTE Mailbag you do, and that sometimes you even have a live Q-and-A on YouTube, but I think if the fans know ahead of time who's going to be answering, they'll have more specific questions."

"Would you do it live?"

"I'd like to," she said, looking to Kenny.

He nodded. "I don't see a problem with it."

"Me either," Matt said. "Nick?"

"Sounds great to me." He smiled.

Jasmine smiled in return. He really did have a sweet smile. It lit up his face, and his eyes. "Thanks so much."

"Anything else?" Matt asked.

"Nope. I'm gone, unless you've got more questions?" She was already getting to her feet. She didn't want to linger. Didn't want to be a pest.

"When you want to start?" Adam asked.

"Next week. That will be more than enough time to get the word out." Jasmine looked to him hopefully. "Would you like to be the first?"

"Shit," he muttered, and the other men began to laugh. "Yeah, fine, I'll be the guinea pig."

***

You're still at the arena? What the hell?

Sighing, Nick tapped out a vague answer to his brother's text, then pushed his phone into his pocket after hitting send. The show had ended over two hours before. Crew was still loading out, arena staff was finishing up cleaning the concession areas, and all but one or two of the wrestlers were gone. The signs and directions backstage had been taken down, the production staff had left, and the halls echoed with closing doors and the banging of crates.

All production staff except one.

Turning the corner, he saw the sign was still taped by the open door. Approaching, he could just see inside the room. Jasmine sat at a table, laptop and tablet in front of her. The first thing he noticed was that she'd changed into one of the AEW tank tops he'd given her earlier. A video played on the tablet and as he hesitated in the doorway he noted she was watching the main event from the show. He lifted his hand to knock, not wanting to startle her, when she turned her head.

"I'm finishing up," she promised, closing the laptop and leaning to unplug it. "I was just posting a few more highlights."

"No problem. It's just…" Nick entered the room and picked up her bag, carrying it to the table. "Getting late, you know?"

"I know, I know, but I was doing some polls on Twitter. About the Q-and-A thing?" She began winding the cord. "I just wanted an idea of who the fans would want to see featured."

"Yeah? Who do they want?" he asked, leaning against the table. Picking up the laptop, he handed it over after she stuffed the cord into the bag.

"Thanks. They want Adam and Kenny, and there were quite a few requests for some of the backstage people. Like Stella and a couple of the refs. Oh, and you, of course."

"Me?"

"I listed you with Matt. The Young Bucks, right?" She shook her head. "Got quite a few replies saying you should be done separately. Well, when I redid it, you got the most votes."

"No way," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Yes way," she promised. "I've already got Adam scheduled for next week, but can I do you the week after?"

Nick lifted his eyebrows. "Do me, huh?"

"You know what I mean." Her cheeks darkened slightly as she bent to pick up an empty water bottle.

"Sorry." He hadn't meant to embarrass her. Reminding himself that he was, effectively, her boss, he picked up her tablet and stopped the video. "Yeah, I guess I can do it."

"Great!" She was smiling again, and when she leaned to take her tablet he caught a hint of her perfume.

"Can I ask a personal question?"

Her smile faltered. "It depends on how personal the question is."

"I was just wondering. I mean, you don't have to answer."

"Go on." She turned off the tablet and slid it into her bag, then straightened and looked at him. Waiting.

He opened his mouth, fully prepared to ask the personal question that had been bouncing around his head for days. But he caught sight of the lanyard around her neck and knew he couldn't. "What kind of perfume is that you're wearing?"

Her eyes widened a little, and it occurred to him that it was a random question. A little personal, yes, but probably one that she was asked a lot. She lifted one arm and gave her wrist a small sniff. "I'm surprised you can still smell it… It's Chanel."

"Fancy," he murmured.

"Hardly. It was a Christmas gift from my mother. She's fancy."

"I like it. On you. I mean, I like the way it smells on you." He was fumbling. He hated it when he began to fumble. "I mean…"

"Thank you, Nick," she said softly.

"You're welcome," he sighed.

"I'm heading out now. I'll see you next week?"

"I'll walk you out," he offered, pushing away from the table.

"I'm a big girl, Nick, I can handle walking to the car," she laughed, even as she let him take the heavy bag from her hand.

"It's late, Jasmine," he reminded her, tossing his hoodie over his shoulder. The parking lot was well lit, he knew. But she was parked far from the door. And though he doubted anything would happen to her, he would never forgive himself if something did. He was well aware that he could get someone from security to see her to her car. But… he needed to do it himself.

"I know." Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she took a step forward, then stopped and looked at him skeptically. "Why are you still here, anyway?"

"Ah…" He cleared his throat and motioned for her to keep walking. "EVP stuff."

"But Matt, Kenny, and Cody left almost as soon as the show was over," she pointed out.

"Oh, y'know… One of us tries to hang around and make sure loading out goes smoothly." It wasn't a complete lie. Many times he and Matt had stuck around, helping reload merchandise onto the truck or pitching in with taking down the ring.

She seemed to ponder that for a few seconds, then shrugged. "And do you walk all employees to their cars, too?"

"Only the ones who stay as late as me."

They stepped out into the night. The production trucks were running, their heavy idling making it impossible to speak until they'd gone halfway across the lot. Next to him, she hugged herself, hands rubbing her bare arms. Without a second thought, he tugged the hoodie from his shoulder and reached to drape it around her shoulders. They stopped walking at the same time and she turned to face him, eyes bright with surprise.

"Can't have my favorite employee getting a chill," he murmured, smiling when she pushed her hands through the sleeves.

"Favorite employee, huh?" she said.

"My favorite social media lady?"

"I'm the only social media lady," she snorted.

"That's why you're my favorite."

"Charmer." She brought the front of the hoodie together in the front and began to walk again.

When they neared her car she reached for the bag hanging from his shoulder, pulling her keys from one of the side pockets. The lights flashed as she unlocked the doors, and he reached to open the driver's side door for her. "Still no Lamborghini?"

Her laugh filled him with warmth. "On my salary? Not a chance."

He handed over her bag, propping his arm on the top of the door while she leaned to place it in the passenger seat. He glanced at the interior and saw that nothing had changed in the week since he'd last walked her out. Her niece's car seat was still in the back. A couple of stuffed animals were tucked into it, and there was a green blanket neatly folded on the seat.

"Thanks for walking me out," she said after starting the engine.

"Anytime."

She straightened, and the light breeze sent her perfume his way again. Smiling, she began to shrug out of the hoodie but stopped when he shook his head.

"Keep it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I'll give it back next week."

"You don't have to," he murmured.

"Good night, Nick," she said softly.

"Good night, Jasmine."

When she made no move to get into the car, he waited. Feeling her hand brush against his, he glanced down and saw her wrapping the hoodie tighter around her. His lungs ached. He wished he were better at this. He wished he could be smooth and easily charming like Adam or Kenny. Or, god forbid, even a little like Matt, who knew just what to say to have a woman not want to leave his presence.

But he held none of those qualities. He was just him. A little reserved, a little shy, and when a beautiful woman was in front of him, more than a little fumbling and awkward. It had never been this bad, though. He always had a ready quip, a quick smile, to break the tension, because laughter was easier than this.

This, the anxious feeling that he would say or do the wrong thing. The ache in his chest because he couldn't catch his breath. The nerves jumbling like butterflies in his stomach. The inability to come up with anything witty or sarcastic to say to break the tension rising between them.

She moved. Lifted her head. Tossed her hair back. It sent a wave of perfume in his direction and he breathed it in, slowly raising his head to find her leaning up. Her hand landed gently on his chest and he felt her breath fan over his jaw. Felt the velvet of her cheek against his. Her lips brushed where her cheek had, and he instinctively reached to rest his hand at her waist. He turned his head as she began to pull back. She froze, and her breath stuttered over his lips.

Then her lips were on his. Gentle, softer than her cheek, they soothed the butterflies and caused the ache in his chest to spread. He brought his hands up, cupping her cheeks, felt her hands clasp at the back of his neck. Their lips parted on a gasp. Though he knew he should let her make any further moves, he couldn't resist taking a tentative taste.

And tasted sunshine.

His ears began to ring. A jangling, like an old-time phone. Feeling her start to pull away he lowered his hands to her shoulders, breaking the kiss with a sigh of regret.

"Your phone," she gasped.

It was then he felt it vibrating in his pocket and realized the ringing in his ears wasn't from the kiss. Leaning back, he pulled it out and squinted at the screen, frowning at the sight of his brother's name. "It's not important—"

"I should go," she blurted. She looked panicked. Horrified.

"Jasmine, I'm sorry—"

"No, no, I'm sorry. I should never have—" She gulped. "I have to go."

Frowning, he stepped back, hating the chill that swirled between them. "Jasmine."

"I'm fine," she promised. "I'll see you next week."

"Drive safe," he said out of habit, watching as she climbed into the car.

"Yeah. Good night."

"Night," he murmured, taking another step back while she closed the door. His frown deepened when he saw her cover her face with her hands, and he almost reached out to tap on the window. Was stretching out his hand to do so because he wanted to know what was wrong. She wasn't fine.

But she was already backing out of the parking space.

His phone began to ring again and this time he accepted the call, watching Jasmine's car speed out of the parking lot. "Yeah?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Matt asked.

Nick sighed and turned to walk back to the building. "I don't have a clue."

#nick jackson fanfiction #aew fanfiction #my fics #multipart:NO

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champhangman · 4 years

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No Other

Title: No Other Characters: Nick Jackson x OFC Part: Three of ? Summary: I don’t know the loneliness you’ve known. I don’t hear the frosty words echo inside. Word Count: 4,849 Warnings: n/a A/N: I promised some folks this would come yesterday, but it’s late because I am an anxious xennial writer that, despite everyone’s praise, constantly questions my abilities

@adampage / @cowboyshit / @baylynch / @lilmisswhiskeygypsy / @bigpixiefoot / @mindofasagittaruis / @kalliravenne / @sadlittlecountess / @baronsbelleevangeline / @brie-mode-activated / @xbreezymeadowsx / @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch / @heelsamizayn / @what-does-mine-say / @waywardwrestlewritingwaif / @drewshoneybadger / @merchfreak / @markostuntthesehoes / @mysteryoflovve / @knnyomega /

Three

Jasmine agonized for the next week. Why had she done that? What had she been thinking? How could she have thought it was okay? She replayed the moments over and over until she had picked apart every detail, from the way her heart had jumped in her chest when he'd given her his hoodie to the way his mouth had felt on hers. Try as she might, she couldn't hate the kiss, or him for letting it happen, or the way it had made her feel.

Intoxicated. His lips had been like a fine, undiscovered wine, and she had wanted to drink from them for the rest of the night. In those moments she had been able to forget every reason why kissing him was the worst possible idea. She'd only been able to focus on him – the slightly callused palms on her cheeks, the warmth of his lips, the silk of his hair, the decadence of his tongue.

And she had, for a split second, hated whoever had called him and broken the spell.

She had immediately been grateful because she had done the worst possible thing. She didn't even know why, even after days of brooding, other than she had wanted to. Which was, she thought, the stupidest reason in the history of all reasons for kissing. Her boss.

She had kissed her boss.

Yes, she had only intended to kiss his cheek. That had been her plan while she stood there, wrapped in the warmth of a hoodie that smelled of him. A kiss on the cheek was fine. A little less than professional, but it fit into the laidback atmosphere of a company where people greeted each other with hugs and departed with more hugs and kisses to cheeks. He had been so nice, making sure she got to her car safely and sticking around to make sure she left without problems. She had doubted his vague claim of some duties but had chalked it all up to him just being a nice guy.

He was a nice guy, that was all there was to it. Nick Jackson was just a nice guy. That was why it had felt so natural to stand there after saying good night, why she hadn't hesitated to lean up to give him a goodnight kiss. On the cheek.

But then…

Had he turned? Or had it been her? Had she imagined that little crackle of awareness? All she knew was that his hand had been at her waist and she had smelled the cinnamon on his breath. There had been butterflies in her chest and an ache that she had thought she would never feel again.

And the kiss had done nothing but make the ache grow.

She was able to forget it during the day, when she was busy with her few work duties and cooking and cleaning and laundry and going to the park. She was able to forget it when she was eating and when she went for her daily run. But when her apartment grew quiet at night and it was just her and whatever music or TV show she put on for company, it rushed back to the forefront of her mind.

Jasmine was determined to forget it, though, and made the decision while packing that she would not bring it up when she saw Nick again. She would avoid him but that would be impossible. She just wouldn't say a word about the kiss. She would pretend it hadn't happened.

But of course, of course, he was the first person she saw when she got to the venue. She didn't dare think he had been waiting for her, but she tried to fight the little flutter in her chest as she finished checking in and turned to see him talking to Matt and Adam. The flutter grew into a flurry when he laughed.

"Jazzy," Adam called when she tried to slip by without being noticed.

And then Nick was looking at her. She couldn't look away, because, despite her promises to herself, she was remembering everything. His hand on her waist, his cologne, the taste of cinnamon, the gentle caress of his fingers on her cheeks, and the warmth of his hoodie around her.

"You ready for me?"

"Huh?" Jasmine winced at the sound that came from her lungs. Like a startled goose. Jerked from her thoughts, she blinked and was able to tear her gaze away so she could look at Adam. "Ready?"

"For the thing."

"Oh! Right!" She'd completely forgotten, even though she had spent two hours in her hotel room pulling questions to ask him. Glancing at her watch, she nodded. "We'll start in a little over an hour. I have to check in with Dylan and find a place to do it."

"You can use the EVP office," Matt said, eyes darting between her and Nick. "No one's going to be using that for a while."

Jasmine nodded again. She couldn't look at Nick. Not again. She couldn't bear the thought of reliving the kiss all over again. Did he feel as uncomfortable and embarrassed as her? Or had he given any of it a second thought since that night? "Thanks. I'll go ahead and get everything ready."

"Is everything okay?" Nick. His voice gentle and, to her, he sounded concerned.

"Fine," she chirped, giving him the barest of glances. Pressing her lips together, she began to turn away, keeping her eyes on the floor. "I gotta run. See you later."

***

"What's with her?" Matt asked while Jasmine hurried down the hall.

Nick was grateful when Adam brought up possible reasons for Jasmine being not herself. Travel, little sleep, bad food, the list went on and on, with Matt throwing in options as well. He kept silent, eyes on her retreating figure until she turned a corner and disappeared, then looked down at his shoes as though he didn't have a clue as to what was wrong with her.

When he knew damn well it was him. Or, if not him, what had happened with him.

"She hardly said a thing in the group chat the other day," Matt said. "Wonder if something's up at home?"

"Maybe she was just busy." Adam twirled an unopened straw between his fingers. "Didn't you say her niece practically lives with her?"

"Nick said that, not me."

"I didn't say that." Nick lifted his head. "I said her niece is with her a lot."

"Then there you go." Adam shrugged. "She was probably with her niece. Would you want to talk to you idiots if you were with family?"

Nick and Matt just looked at him.

"Oh, right, you idiots are family." Adam grinned.

"Speaking of idiots," Matt muttered.

"Got it from y'all," Adam muttered back.

"Was she okay when she left last week?" Matt asked suddenly, looking to Nick. "You were at Daily's until everyone left, did you see her?"

"I left right after she did," he answered evasively, grateful to feel his phone start to buzz in his pocket. Reaching for it, he grunted when his brother snatched it out of his grasp. "What the hell—"

"Something happened." Matt narrowed his eyes. "Didn't it?"

"Yeah. You took my phone."

Adam began to snicker.

"Something happened with Jazzy."

Nick tried to keep his face impassive. Tried to not let anything show. It had been easier during their days off when they'd been kept busy with things for BTE and plans for storylines. And especially when Matt's wife had insisted he do something with her for a day, during which Nick had been left blissfully alone. Now, though, there was no escape. If he walked away Matt would be right behind him, this time with Adam in tow.

"Well?" Matt demanded, looking down at Nick's phone. "It's just Brandon. He's finished with the stuff from Chuck and Trent."

"I better go check it out," Nick decided, taking a tentative step back.

"No. Tell me what happened."

"I'm gone," Adam sighed, shaking his head. "Y'all are giving me a headache."

Nick waited until he was gone and sighed when Matt cleared his throat. "Nothing happened."

"I'm not stupid, Nick." Matt scoffed when Nick lifted his eyebrows. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Nick insisted.

"I don't believe you."

Rolling his eyes, he snatched his phone from Matt's hand and shoved it into his pocket. "Don't be such a prick."

"What's gotten into you? You were fine until—" Matt's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Something did happen."

"For the love of… I'm going to see Bran." He reached for his phone to find out where Brandon was, muttering a curse when the immediate reply was that he was with Jasmine. And Nick had the feeling that he was the last person she wanted to see. So he hesitated, weighing his options, finally concluding that he could wait until Brandon was elsewhere.

"You're not gonna tell me, are you?"

"No." He kept his gaze on his phone, idly closing apps and adjusting the brightness.

"How long are things gonna be weird?"

"Things aren't weird," he defended.

"You—"

"It's not weird." Nick sighed and lowered his phone. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Nick…"

But he was already walking away. His brother's sigh followed him but he didn't turn back. He didn't want to listen to Matt's unending questions or watch his face while he tried to figure out what had happened. Worse, he didn't want to potentially make the wrong face that would have Matt unraveling the latest mystery. Anything that he didn't immediately know all the reasons behind was an ambiguous secret that he had to solve.

Nick hated being his latest unsolved mystery.

Matt was the last person he wanted to know what had happened. Not that anything had happened. It had just been a kiss.

Just a kiss.

That he'd tried to not think about over the past week. Just a kiss that he refused to mope around over, because who moped over a kiss that had been interrupted? It wasn't as though he'd never been kissed before. It wasn't as though he hadn't enjoyed longer, deeper kisses that had led to not crawling into an empty bed.

But despite the reminders he gave himself every time he began thinking about the kiss, he still thought about it. More than he should have. More than he'd have thought he would.

What he thought about the most, though, was the terror in her eyes when they'd broken apart. How flustered she had been, diving into her car and getting away from him as quickly as possible. As though she'd committed a horrible sin and wanted to speed away from possible judgment.

He stopped walking when he reached the end of the hallway, giving his head a shake to clear the thoughts that had nothing to do with work. Glancing up when he heard a door open, he saw Brandon coming out of a room, laughing.

"Hey Nick, if you need me, I'll be in the EVP room helping Jazz set up for the thing with Adam." Brandon grinned. "I heard you're doing it next week?"

"Yeah." He hoped it did well. Hoped she would do sessions with lesser-known men and women in the company. "Need a hand?"

"Nah, we've got it." Watching his friend head down the hall, he glanced at the closed door that was labeled 'Social Media' and thought about going inside to see if they could talk. But, able to hear her and Dylan talking, he sighed and turned in the opposite direction.

***

"You know, in my head, this was just going to be some casual thing in a corner, not something professional looking with a backdrop and everything," Jasmine commented, stepping back. "Next thing I know, you'll be producing mics and talking about lighting."

Brandon chuckled, shaking his head. "Do you want a mic?"

"Not this time," she decided. Her nerves were starting to make themselves known. She had thought she would sit behind the tablet and ask the questions off-camera, but Brandon had insisted she be in the frame, too. Although she had no idea why anyone would want to see her. Everyone that watched would only be interested in looking at Adam. "Maybe if it gets a good response we can graduate to mics, but I want to keep it a little casual, you know? Dylan was saying that if it does well, we can try some impromptu ones during commercial breaks."

"It'll do great," he promised, smiling. "I'll go get the tripod, alright?"

"Thanks."

She watched him leave then pulled out her phone. He'd said the tripod was in his suitcase in the main locker room. She didn't know how fast he walked, but allowing for random conversations and a fast pace, she calculated that she had at least ten minutes for a quick FaceTime.

"Hey," she greeted as soon as her call was answered. "I've only got a few minutes but wanted to check in."

"She just woke up from her nap." Meg, her longtime friend and babysitter smiled. "Bea, someone wants to see you!"

The screen blurred as the phone was turned, and there she was, flaxen curls a mess and a chocolate milk mustache on her upper lip. She grinned. "Hi!"

Jasmine smiled, arms aching to hold the little girl close. She longed to kiss her chubby cheeks and comb her fingers through the messy curls. She inhaled, wishing she could smell the lavender shampoo and sweet scent of Downy. "Hey, sweetheart. Having a good day?"

"Uh-huh! Goin' to the museum!" Beatrice picked up her cup and took a long drink of chocolate milk. About to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, she wrinkled her nose when Meg pushed a napkin towards her. "Gonna see dinos!"

"Don't try talking Meg into letting you steal one," Jasmine warned. She loved her. More than she had ever thought she could love another human being. Even when she crammed Goldfish crackers into her mouth then giggled, sending a spray of crumbs everywhere.

"If I'm good I can get a stuffed dino," Beatrice said, still grinning. Then her eyes, dark as the chocolate syrup she loved, widened when Meg groaned. "Meg said not to tell you."

"You're always letting the cat out of the bag, Honeybee," Jasmine sighed.

"Meg don't have a cat."

"It's just a saying. But you getting a new stuffed dino is fine. I don't know where you're gonna put it, but we'll make room." She had a feeling the new stuffy would end up on her bed, as all of Beatrice's stuffed animals did. Just as her nightstand and dresser were always littered with the hard, plastic dinosaurs that seemed to multiply overnight.

"Are you with the wrestlers?" Beatrice asked, leaning close as though she could see more people that way.

"I'm alone right now, but they're around."

"I took a long nap so I can watch 'em tonight! Meg promised!"

"Meg's the best," Jasmine concurred. "But if you fall asleep we can watch it tomorrow when I get home."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too, Honeybee." A lump formed in her throat. Bad idea, she decided, to check in with Beatrice while at work. She would have to remember to keep her check-ins to texts. "Be a good girl at the museum, okay?"

"Yes ma'am." Beatrice looked sad. "You gonna cry?"

"Not this time," Jasmine promised. She would wait and do that later when the risk of being walked in on wasn't so high. "I better go. Meg, call me if she's still awake at the end of the show?"

"Sure thing."

"Finish your snack so you can go have fun," Jasmine told Beatrice with a sad smile. "I'll talk to you later. I love you so much, Honeybee."

"I love you, Mommy!" Beatrice puckered her lips and kissed the screen.

Laughing when she heard Meg's squawk, Jasmine blew a kiss in return then ended the call. She released a shaky breath, willing the tears to not come. About to text Meg to thank her for watching Beatrice again, she felt the phone slip from her hand at the clearing of a throat behind her. Her phone fell to the floor with a thump and, heart skipping a beat, she slowly turned to see Brandon.

"Hey," she squeaked, peering behind him to make sure no one else had come into the room with him. But the door was closed, thankfully. Or not. She slowly looked at him, nervous energy twisting in her stomach.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I think so."

"I didn't know you were a mom."

"No one does," she whispered. "I mean, no one here."

"I should have knocked," he said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine, you didn't know, and…" God, was he going to tell everyone? Wasn't he Nick and Matt's best friend? She knew that being a mother wasn't taboo, but surely they would want to know why she hadn't mentioned her daughter during her interview. They would want to know why she'd lied and referred to her as her niece.

"Why doesn't anyone know?" He held up his hands. "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I understand wanting to keep your life private. I'm curious, is all."

"I, um…" She cleared her throat. "It's not a huge secret, I just… I lost a couple of jobs because of her. That wasn't the official reason, but I knew it was because my daughter was more important to me than work."

"As she should be," Brandon said with a nod. "You don't have to worry about that here, Jazz."

"I know, but…" She sighed. "I don't want the questions to start."

He tilted his head, then nodded again. "I get you. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

"You won't?" she asked in disbelief.

"Of course not." He gave her a look that assured her he was trustworthy. "It's not my secret to tell."

"Thank you." Taking the tripod from him, she smiled with relief.

***

"Thanks again, Adam, that was great. I'll see you later—"

"Wait, Jazzy, hold up."

She turned at the door. Had she forgotten something? She mentally went over everything she had brought with her and remembered putting everything back into her bag. Surprised to see him walking towards her, she raised her eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say… It was fun, talking to you." He smiled while beginning to brush his hair back with his fingers. "You wanna do it again sometime?"

"Another Q-and-A thing?" she asked.

"No, no, not that," he chuckled. "I was thinking we could go out for drinks or something after the show tonight?"

"We?" she repeated.

"If you want." His smile began to fade. "Unless… Are you seeing someone? Sorry if me asking offended you or—"

"No, I'm not seeing anyone." The memory of her and Nick's kiss flashed in her mind and she sighed. "Very much single."

"Yeah?" He licked his lips. "Good."

"I appreciate the ask, but I'm not interested in dating someone I work with." That sounded bad, she thought, frowning. "I mean, I could be interested…"

Adam's eyebrows quirked. "Oh?"

"But I can't do it. Personal rule."

"It doesn't have to be a date thing," he said.

The space between them grew smaller and she tipped her head back to look up at him. "Doesn't it?"

"We can just be two work friends going out for a drink or two." He leaned against the wall next to the door. "What do you say?"

Her first instinct was to say no. She wasn't the type to go out for drinks. She hadn't had drinks in so long she'd forgotten what her favorite drinks were. Other than the occasional glass of wine, she didn't let herself imbibe as much as she used to, back when she was younger and stupider. But there was something so appealing about the idea of just relaxing. She wouldn't have to get drunk. She could just enjoy a drink or two with a man she wasn't interested in. Her only other option was sitting alone in her hotel room waiting for exhaustion to set in so she could sleep until it was time to catch her flight. Nodding her head, she smiled. "Yeah, sure. I can do friends going out for a drink."

"Great." He pushed off the wall and reached to open the door. "We'll hook up after the show?"

"We're not hooking up, Adam."

"We'll meet up, then."

"Still makes it sound like a date."

He rolled his eyes. "We'll find each other after the show?"

Jasmine wrinkled her nose. "That works, I guess."

"You figure out the right words and let me know," he said, nudging her shoulder before heading away.

Rolling her eyes, she went back to her and Dylan's quasi office. It was empty and she dropped her bag on the table to catch up on work, having made the decision to keep away from Nick for as long as possible. As much as possible. She knew it would only make it more awkward when she ran into him, but she had to stay away.

Adam texted her, asking if she'd figured out the right words.

Adam. He was safe. Her heart didn't flutter and her stomach didn't flip over itself a dozen times a second when she was around him. There was no danger of falling into the trap she'd fallen into before, no fear that she would find herself plunging into obsession over him. She could do drinks with him and not be tempted to let it lead to anything more. Replying that she was still thinking it over, she turned her attention to work.

When the show was over she packed away her things, keeping her tablet out to send a few more tweets and check for posts from the talent that she would need to repost. Groaning when another Disney song began to play on her phone, she almost skipped it but then shrugged, humming along to the first few bars while she watched a short video she had clipped to post.

"Yet I know it's true, that visions are seldom all they seem." She pulled one leg beneath her to get more comfortable, eyes on the tablet screen. "But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream…"

"I didn't know we'd hired a Disney princess," a voice said from the doorway.

Yelping in surprise, Jasmine snatched up her phone to pause the song. Her cheeks burned and she slowly swiveled to see Nick standing just inside the room. Startled, she inhaled deeply and bit her lip. "Nick… I didn't know anyone was listening."

"It was—" He exhaled. "You got a minute or two?"

"Sure. What's up?" She hated how strained her voice sounded. She also hated that just the sight of him brought up the fluttering in her chest. Suddenly she wanted to taste cinnamon. Looking away from him, she picked up her earbuds and began to wind the cord so her hands would be occupied.

"Can we talk?"

"Yes?" Her heart began to rattle in her chest. Brandon had told him. The thought made her physically hurt because she had thought she could trust him. She should have known he would tell Nick, one of his best friends. It wasn't as though she were anyone important.

"Jasmine?"

"What about?" she squeaked, twisting the cord around her fingers.

"Last week," he said softly.

"Oh. God." Did they have to? She gave her head a small shake, trying to clear the fears. At least for a little while. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I think there is."

"I'm sorry." She lifted her eyes to his face. "I shouldn't have done it."

He frowned and took a step forward. "It—"

"It was a mistake. It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"A mistake?"

"A terrible one," she confirmed. Seeing him flinch, she rose to her feet. "I don't – That wasn't supposed to sound so mean."

"Why was it a mistake?"

She stared at him, unblinking. Then she remembered that he didn't know. He couldn't possibly know, otherwise he wouldn't be asking. And she didn't have the nerve to tell him. She didn't want to see his opinion of her lower.

Whore.

"Because it was," she answered. Lame, yes, but it was the best she could do without going into detail. "It shouldn't have happened. You're my boss."

Gold-digging bitch.

"I'm only your boss when we're working." His hands kept moving. Into the pockets of his shorts, then out, tugging at his shirt. She hadn't thought him one to have a lot of nervous energy.

Then she wished she hadn't looked, because each time she saw his hands she remembered them on her face. "You—"

"And technically speaking, Dylan's your direct boss, and above him would be Brandon—"

"It doesn't matter," she said, flinching at the harshness of her tone. "I'm sorry, Nick."

"For what?"

"For doing that—"

"You can say the word, Jasmine."

"I'm sorry I kissed you," she whispered. The words made her chest ache. Because she wasn't really sorry she'd kissed him. She was sorry over the situation and the fact that she couldn't let herself get into a position where she would want to kiss him again. "I'm sorry I stepped over the line. I don't want you to think I go around kissing men whenever the mood strikes—"

"I don't," he said gently.

"Because I don't. I don't want things to be weird because I love working here already. But things are weird now, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I guess they are if you think so," he murmured.

He looked down and she felt the cord snap between her fingers. "I just can't let myself do anything like that with someone I work with. It's against my rules, and—"

"Hey Jazzy, you ready to go?"

She didn't say it often, although she thought it frequently, but the word slipped out at the sound of Adam's voice. "Fuck."

"Oh, hey Nick." Adam was smiling as he stepped into the room. He looked from her to Nick then back again. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No."

"Yes."

Jasmine blinked at Nick's contradiction to her answer. "No," she said again, not liking the frown that was pulling at his lips. "We were just talking about—"

"Next week's Q-and-A," Nick finished for her. The smile he managed didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Right. …Did I tell you that more fans requested Nick than Matt?" She directed the question to Adam, who still looked confused, and as though he didn't believe what they were saying.

He chuckled. "No shit? Did you tell him?"

"I don't have the nerve." She turned and began stuffing her things into her bag.

"I'll do it," Adam offered.

"Don't," Nick groaned. "I'll have to listen to him bitch all the way home."

"Won't you anyway?" Jasmine asked without thinking. There was a small silence and she sneaked a glance at the men an instant before they both began to laugh.

"I'm gonna tell him you said that," Nick warned after choking back a giggle.

She liked that he giggled, liked that he let his humor out so freely. At the moment, she liked that he didn't look so serious. Picking up her bag, she smiled faintly when Adam reached to take it from her. She felt awkward while she pushed the chair under the table and slipped her phone into the pocket of her jeans. Acutely aware of Nick looking at her, she grabbed the hoodie off the back of the chair and slipped her arms into her sleeves.

"Ready?" Adam looked at Nick. "We're going for drinks."

"It's not a date," Jasmine blurted because she felt she had to. Otherwise, he would think she was a hypocrite. Bad enough he probably thought she kissed men on a whim, she couldn't let him think she was a liar, too.

Whore.

Nick nodded and stepped to the side so she could leave the room. She disliked the awkwardness that still stretched between them and missed how easygoing things had been just a week before. She wanted that again. She wanted him to smile and call her his favorite employee. Wishing she held the magic words to smooth everything over, she zipped up her hoodie and threw the ruined earbuds into the trash.

"Have fun."

Jasmine managed a nod, biting the inside of her lip when Adam's hand landed on the small of her back to steer her out. She stopped at the doorway and looked back. "Do you want to go?"

"He doesn't drink," Adam muttered.

Nick shook his head, smiling, and his smile looked genuine. "Not really my thing. See you next week?"

"Of course you will." As though she could avoid him. "Bye, Nick."

"Bye, Jasmine."

#nick jackson fanfiction #aew fanfiction #my fics #multipart:NO #also omg you guys/gals/people really blow me away with your praise

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