#moxleyxreader

A/N: I apologize for the long wait between chapters. The muse has been fickle. I hope you’re still into it as we’re nearing the end. 

Tags: @comeonerleen​ @thelookingglassalice​ @mrsjonmoxley​ @ladymoxley​ @dirtydeedsmewithsassbelievethat​ @ashleyh28 @blueboxdiva

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Life has a way of throwing dreams at you and asking you to choose one

x Part Nine x

Your doctor had promised you that, during your second semester, your symptoms would work themselves out. However, it feels like your baby has total control of you. While the morning sickness has lessened a little, your body is still tender in certain spots and you sleep a lot. Telling Jon this is a bad idea as he thinks you should see the doctor at the smallest sign of discomfort.

You promise yourself today will be different as Jon returns from a trip overseas and has a few days off to come home for a reset (a true rarity). Part of you is nervous about how he will react to the more pronounced curve of your stomach as your clothes are starting to feel a little snugger. It doesn’t really matter though because you are anticipating his arrival with unbridled excitement – especially since your hormones are anxious for his presence.

You find a nice sundress to mask some of your curve, giving your hair and light make up a once over, before you head to the airport. A part of you hopes he isn’t too tired to ignore your obvious flirtations; however, as you pull up to the arrivals gate, you see nothing but exhaustion. You have to play off your disappointment as you pull up to him; you park the car and reach for your belt buckle when the passenger door swings open, “Don’t get out, just pop the trunk.”

“Oh, okay.” You do as instructed, watching with a slight pout as he loads his bags into the trunk.

Jon slams the trunk, taking the passenger seat and leaning over to kiss your cheek, “People here are fucking crazy. I don’t need them hitting my pregnant wife.”

“Thanks, babe, always looking out for me.” You lean over, signaling for him to give you a proper kiss and feel the same flutter in your chest when he obliges – hands framing your face in a familiar adoration.

--------------

Jon gets a shower in, one you are hoping will revive him; you need it to. Your body is craving his in a way which is so unfamiliar to you. While you had recently spent a lot of phone time talking about the baby’s daily treatment of your body, you had not had a chance to tell him how the changes were making you thirstier than you had ever been for your husband.  You wander into the bedroom as he steps out of the bathroom, prepared to ask him if he wants anything special so that you can make some suggestions.

Jon smiles upon seeing you, causing you to go dumb in speech, and his fingertips ghost yours, his lips catching a quick kiss of your neck, as he passes. Then, he falls face first onto the bed.

Rolling your eyes, realizing he probably thought you were heading to the bathroom, you turn around and grab a pair of his sweats, toss them onto the bed beside him. You know it’s a bad idea to disturb him like this; he just needs to rest.

Disappointed, you head back into the living room and curl up on the couch. It isn’t long before your body falls into a familiar lull, and you are out like your husband.

--------------

“Yeah, I don’t wanna wake her up. Doesn’t seem like she’s been sleeping much better than me.”

Your awareness stirs before your eyelids are light enough to blink, yet you recognize his fingers tenderly combing your hair as he speaks to someone else.

“Yeah, I’ll leave a note and head out. I can’t stay there long, man, or (Y/N)’s gonna kill me.”

“…damn right I will.” You mumble, blinking your eyes open as a smile spreads on your lips.

“She’s up. I’ll call you back.” Jon hangs up the phone, sitting on the floor beside the couch and admiring your features, “I was trying not to wake you…oops.”

“Babe, you actually think…” Done being patient, you run your index finger down his exposed chest and down to the waist of his sweatpants, “I’m letting you go anywhere tonight?”

Jon’s interest is peaked as his fingers move from combing your hair and down to your jawline, “What about…”

“That’s what I’ve wanted to tell you since I went to pick you up at the airport.” You sit up on the couch with almost childlike excitement, “My body is feeling ten times better, with exception of some soreness, and I’m—I—” You have no idea why you’re embarrassed to say it, but you feel the blush heat your cheekbones. Now, as Jon is so close and clearly interested in your words, you debate if you’re ready to experiment with your body confidence. The last thing you want to do is get him thinking twice because your baby bump is obvious and clearly responsible for your surge in hormones, “Could we just say…I’ve been thinking about—us a lot lately, together?”

He laughs sharply, leaning a little against the couch and stretching his legs out; he’s clearly aware of your concentrated stare on his muscles as he teases, “You’re horny?”

You roll your eyes then bow your head, “Really? You gonna make me regret bringing this up?”

“No!” Jon pushes the coffee table aside with a gentle shove and sits on his knees in front of you; his hands make their first contact with you, sliding the material of your dress up to your mid-thigh as a smile dances on his lips. Easily parting your legs enough to settle between them, he continues to massage your skin, “Roman said something about this.”

“You talked to Roman about my body?” You feel somewhat ashamed that your body begins to burn because of his touch despite your mortification, “I don’t wanna feel like a school girl for wanting something from my husband.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel anything yet.”

Jon combs his fingers into your hair once more, grasping at the ends and bringing you in for a hungry kiss. It is enough to completely consume your embarrassment and get your body focusing on only one goal – release. Snaking your arms around him, your fingers nails crawl over his bareback and scrape playfully at the skin.

His hands cascade down your body for a rough grope of your breasts, and you moan in a way that signals far more pain than pleasure. Wide-eyed, Jon ceases all contact, “What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” You cup yourself, hoping he doesn’t panic at your announcement, “They’re really sore.”

You wanna explain further, but Jon’s got a focus. Pushing the straps of your sundress off your shoulders and down just above your belly, he delicately undoes and removes your bra. However, rather than playful, he inspects your figure.

After a moment, when you see he’s trying to restrain a smile, you are halfway tempted to push him away, “There’s nothing wrong with them. Yes, they’re a little bigger. They’re really sensitive.” Brave and bold, you move your hands down to your belly, “This got bigger too.”

Jon moves the dress down, eyes jumping up to signal that you lift your hips; you oblige, and he gets rid of the dress. Now, the grin is undeniable as his large hands cover the space.

You want to ask him a million questions, most revolving around how he feels about your body’s changes. You speak none of them, wanting him to have the chance to reacquaint himself with the idea of your ever growing child. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest as he bends down to place a kiss above your belly button, and his thumbs continue to stroke your sides when he manages to pull away.

No words leave his lips as he leans in and places kisses along your collarbone then trail up towards your lips, a kiss which clearly signals how thankful he is for you and the family that is being created. Jon cradles your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, “I love you, (Y/N).”

Rubbing his biceps, you feel as though he controls every single thing in your world; but you aren’t scared, not anymore. You just feel safe and guarded, sighing with blissful content, “So, you’ll stay here with me?”

Tags: @comeonerleen​ @thelookingglassalice​ @mrsjonmoxley​ @ladymoxley​ @blueboxdiva @ashleyh28​​  @dirtydeedsmewithsassbelievethat​

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Life has a way of throwing dreams at you and asking you to choose one

  x Part Six x

“Where the fuck is she!”

“Watch your mouth! There are cameras and mics everywhere!”

“My fucking wife is wheeled out of the ring, and you want me to FUCKING calm down!”

The arguing outside got nearer, many voices undistinguishable outside of Jon’s, until you hear Bayley assert, “I got him. I got him.”

You hear all of this outside of your locker room, knowing that your mutual friends were doing their best to reassure your husband that everything is okay; yet you heard him bulldozing your way from the second you were being wheeled backstage. Your heart had been pounding out of control ever since then, and you were in knots – unsure if you could face him.

You wondered if any of his craziness would be used for the show, if it would fuel his title run, but you pray it won’t. You pray this drama stays between you, but the gossip on the internet must have exploded. No one expected what happened between you and Bayley…and Jon had no way of reassuring himself other than seeing you.

When you hear the door slam open, you whip around to face him and your breathing stops as he stomps up to you; your face is in his hands, his blue eyes dark as he looks you over. You hear Bayley say something about giving you privacy, and Jon releases your face then steps back.

Here goes nothing.

“What the fuck happened out there? I thought they wanted the title on you next month!”

You swallow hard, looking him over and wonder if this will be the last time for a few days. He’s in jeans, a white tank top, and one of his logoed sweatshirts; his hands are taped up but his hair was still dry as he still had sometime before his match was supposed to start. This is the worst time to tell him. You should’ve told him at home, said the words to him before rehearsing on your boss and friend.

“Damn it, (Y/N), talk to me!”

“I have to take a break.” The words sound like they appear with your voice, but you can’t be sure, “I have to step back, and I—I talked with Stephanie.”

“Wait! The fuck! Why didn’t you talk to me!” Jon steps close again, his anger heats his breath, “You’re doing it again! You’re shutting me out!”

“No, no, Jon, that’s not—”

“It’s exactly what’s happening!”

“No, I just had to find a way—”

“We’re married, (Y/N). You can’t keep pulling this shit on me!”

You need him to be settled; you need a pause or a breath to continue, “Please, calm down, Jon.”

Jon is furious in a way you haven’t seen since your beginning, any maturity was out the window as he lost it, “No! What else do I have to do to prove to you that you don’t have to run from me! I have your back!”

“I’m pregnant.” You choke it out, and the room goes silent. That was to be expected, but it makes the weight on your shoulders heavier. The dizziness gets worse until you take a seat on the bench, forcing it out for confirmation once more, “I’m pregnant, Jon.”

You have no idea how long you sit there, no idea how long you are seated as he stands so still. Fears are not dissipated but increased with every minute that passes. But you have no idea how to feel when a knock appears, and it’s announced, “Dean, we’re ready for your match.”

You want him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t – he just leaves.

It is his turn to run.

--------------

“You sure you don’t need anything else?”

You shake your head no, unable to speak. Your chest is tight as she hugs you once more; Bayley had brought you home once Jon left. Once she steps back, you try to hide tears and request quietly, “I just wanna be alone.”

“I am a call or text message away.”

“I know.” You squeeze her arm before standing by the door, “I love you, too.”

Reluctantly, she leaves.

You lock up after her and release a shaky breath, turning to face your empty home. Pictures of you and Jon are scattered everywhere; everything screams a blend of your two personalities, and you ache at what you’ve done. Damn, it feels like something you’ve done. Like you alone got pregnant and decided to change everything.

“My fault.” You say the two words aloud, gripping the back of a chair at the kitchen table; staring down, you look at your wedding band and think about Jon’s non-response. Within a split second, you repeat the words against in a bitter breath, “My fault?”

You yank the chair from the table and stomp to your room; slamming the door shut, you lock it and position the door under the handle. You don’t want him in your orbit, not while your emotions are so indecipherable. Maybe he’ll head right out of town without even visiting home, maybe he’s smart and will ask you to meet on neutral territory, maybe…just maybe he was right.

You hid again, and you weren’t sure why. Why wasn’t he the first to know? You were too emotionally done to analyze right now. Instead, you strip down to your underwear and find one of his old t-shirts to wear. Somehow, you had to have him with you while you were so lost. He was one of the only people who got you, even when you were adversaries. You climb into bed, bury yourself in the covers, and snuggle up to his side of the bed.

Luckily, it isn’t long before sleep teases you with its depths. In your dreams, you swear you hear him. His hoarse voice accompanies a gentle knock, “(Y/N)…open the door. Please. Just—we need to talk. (Y/N)? Are you awake?”

AN: Finished three chapters today. Should be good for the next couple of Saturdays for regular updates. Thank you for your patience!

Tags: @comeonerleen @thelookingglassalice @mrsjonmoxley @ladymoxley @blueboxdiva @ashleyh28​  @dirtydeedsmewithsassbelievethat

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Life has a way of throwing dreams at you and asking you to choose one

 x Part Five x

“We can take about an hour and a half if you still want to be early to the arena.” Jon groans as he falls into the bed space beside you; curving his body to the back of yours, securing you in a solid spooned position, he buries his faces against your hair and deeply inhales the scent, “Sound good to you?”

“Sounds perfect.” You hold his arm tight around you, certain that you have not yet begun to show – especially since you can’t really keep food down, “Thanks for giving me some rest.”

“It’s definitely hard to do.” His fist grips your shirt as he releases a huff against your hair, happy to hear you share his laugh, “But I plan to take full advantage of you when we get home tonight.”

“Then, let me sleep and stop,” Pinching at the back of his hand, you chuckle at his hiss, “giving me ideas.”

With a growl, he settles against you; it feels like seconds before his breath evens out and signals his rest. Meanwhile, you find yourself mindless stroking his arm, up and down. You’re happy to be home; you’re happy to be in his arms; that’s all you need right now. You can’t bring yourself to close your eyes right away; you can only listen to and feel his breath.

Your mind is wild. Your body exhausted. Yet you can only imagine what is going to happen before tomorrow; part of you wishes you could just fast forward the next twenty-four hours so the news was out and every action that needed to be taken was done.

You had no clue how your work would change, if you would even have a job. You doubted wrestling would be good for the pregnancy; nevermind that, how would Jon react? You two had barely discussed the marriage before it happened, now this? It felt like you and Jon had gone from a snail’s pace (your friendship) to warp speed (your marriage)?

Unable to do anything this second, you turned around in his arms; you were on the verge of tears as you did so, snuggling the length of your body to his shutting your eyes tight. Your heart is slightly crushed when Jon instinctively holds you tight against him in his slumber. For the moment, he will keep you safe from the world.

--------------

You insist Jon go explore the arena, talking his match with his opponent for the night, as you found Bayley. There is a promise you will join him after the show and reminder that you love him with a tender last kiss; you watch him walk away rather than take the first steps.

His walk is etched into your brain, and your heart still aches for his hold. Your courage returns when he’s turned a corner, and you seek out Stephanie’s office for this episode of RAW. Luckily, this happened to be a night that her door was open. You could talk to her directly rather than go through channels, and the opportunity was a Godsend.

After a solid knock, you hear, “Come in.”

Stephanie is alone. It’s now or never. Surprisingly, she offers you a gentle smile – before she says the words which feel like one of her slaps to the face, “There’s one of my future champs.”

You let out a weak laugh, taking a seat on the couch near her and feel the bile slowly rising in your throat. The company was counting on you, and – somehow with this action – you had let them down. You would not be running with the ball as they had expected you too.

Her blue eyes somewhat sparkle as she asks, “What can I do for you?”

That’s all it took. Your ball of emotions takes over, causing you to bow your head as the tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

Stephanie’s concern shows immediately, her hand on your shoulder, “What is it, (Y/N)?”

“I think…” You wipe at endless tears, looking her in the eyes as you say the words you never really thought you would, “I have to step away from the WWE.”

“What? Why?” Her hand retracts as she searches your eyes for an explanation, “Is it an injury?”

If only it were that simple. Your entire life, whole world, was about to change. You take a deep breath, holding it in, as you announce, “I’m pregnant.”

Stephanie looks uncertain of how to respond until her arms are around you, tight…supportive? You are confused until she whispers in excitement, “Congratulations!” In a split second, she pushes away with a hold on your shoulders, “Right?”

Releasing the same breath, a little dizzy, you speak, “I think so?”

“Is Jon excited?”

You open your mouth to speak, yet you have nothing.

She reads you clearly, “Oh…well…I get it. You want to straighten out things here first. Business, right?”

You chew your lip, avoiding her eyes in hopes of gaining some insight and clarity. Stephanie hadn’t approved of the way you and Jon got married, abrupt and secret. You had no discussion with the company before it ended on gossip blogs…and now you were pregnant. You anticipate the worst.

However, her motherly instincts kick in, and Stephanie rubs your biceps like she’s warming you up, “Listen, work out a temporary write off with Bayley. Put her in your position. You guys worked out a great idea to get up here…and I’ll trust you with this direction switch.”

Your wide eyes meet hers, “Are you sure?”

“You need to have control over something. You’re about to be a mom.”

“What about my job? My contract? Am I—is this—what am I gonna do?”

“Don’t worry about any of that right now. Worry about getting through tonight and…telling your husband he’s going to be a father.”

Great. Another reminder of the task you weren’t sure you were capable of doing.

--------------

You and Bayley ignore everyone’s looks, especially as they drew their own conclusions about your all girls weekend, and hold hands to the gorilla position. 

Bayley had a feeling; she said she felt something change in the weekend, but she had no idea how to ask you. She was going to accept your position, but she wanted you to be champion even more. The friendship, the bond, you had with Bayley was so far beyond anything you had ever anticipated – you held her in your heart beside Ivelisse. This whole thing, what you were about to do, was gonna hurt like hell.

Your music hits, and you blink. Everything feels like an absolute blur as you wait for Bayley to join you, in a number one contender’s match for the Divas Championship. When her music hits, you maintain the onscreen tension that the two of you had been building for weeks – the uncertainty of whether your friendship was still real or not.

A/N: I’m aware of how drabbles work. I swear. I think only a couple met the 100 word limit though. Ah well, I hope you enjoy them anyway. 

Pairings: Seth x Reader, Dean x Reader, Roman x Reader, Moxley x Reader

Warnings: Always language and lovin’…because I do whatever I fucking want to. 

 1.      She really couldn’t stand his eyes on her. (Roman)

She shifted uncomfortably under his stare; she really couldn’t stand his eyes on her – especially when they were in full on protective daddy mode.

You tried to help her out, hugging his waist as you assure your daughter, “The dress is beautiful, honey.”

She lets a wide smile emerge, “Could you help me put my hair up?”

You nod and wait for her to jog upstairs, “She’s not showing skin, and you’re going to have to deal with the fact that she has a body. Short of her wearing a burlap sack—”

“How do we make that happen?”

“Roman, be a good boy.” You slide to a position in front of him, lowering your voice a little, “And I’ll be a bad girl for you later.”

His fatherly pout transforms into a crooked grin, his hand sneaking in a pat of your behind, as you head upstairs to get your little girl ready for her first dance.

 2.      “I just want to go home…” (Seth)

“I just want to go home…” You playfully whine as his hold around your waist tightens; his response is clear as his chin slightly digs into your shoulder, “No.”

You got into town on Friday; you had enough time to shower and change before Seth arrived at your apartment, saying he was kidnapping you and your dog for the weekend. As much as you love spending almost the entire weekend in your boyfriend’s clothes or bed, it was Sunday.

“Listen, I need to shower—”

Seth lifts his head but refuses to loosen the death grip, “Good, let’s go.”

“I need to dress in my own clothes!”

“You like my clothes.” He covers your nude form with his own, staring down at you with wild bed hair, “You look hot in them, too.”

“Listen, I appreciate the whole I missed you thing. I love it and you; I really do. But I do have a home, babe. There are things I have to take care, you know?”

“You’re my home.” Seth’s words, accompanied by the sincerity of his puppy dog stare, weigh like a ton of bricks on your chest, especially when he adds, “Which is why I think you should live here with me.”

 3.      They couldn’t remember a time when they weren’t scared. (Dean)

“Am I doing this, right?”

You watch as the nurse helps Dean readjust the baby in his arms; your best friend had asked that you and Dean be her baby’s godparents. While Dean was terrified, you were honored. Your girl and her husband were on cloud nine, though horrified at the living being. They couldn’t even remember time when they weren’t scared; however, you know they can breathe in relief that the baby’s okay.

The little girl makes a sound that causes Dean’s eyes to widen and aim at you, but you walk over to join them, stroking the baby’s hair. As the child eases again in his arms again, you two lock eyes in a way you never have before – like the future might be this unpredictable to you one day.

 4.      “I’m not good enough for you.” (Roman)

You nearly break your neck, whipping your head to face him, “Wait, what?”

Roman pulls the car over, his hands continuing to grip the steering wheel, as he says the words with thick disdain, “I’m not good enough for you.”

“Shit, are you serious right now?” You wait for his dark stare to drift into your direction, “I told you!” Your hands began to move wildly in accord with your speech as you unbuckle yourself and throw your door open, continuing to snap, “I told you if you met my family they would drill you and us until we were fucking unrecognizable! They are fucking evil when they want to be! This is exactly why I didn’t want you to meet them!”

“(Y/N)!”

You slam the door on his call, climbing the few steps to your walkway and aim to get into your house before he can stop you; you had enough of everyone for the past four hours.

You hear his door slam seconds later, Roman’s voice calling to you again, “(Y/N)!”

“No! I don’t need you questioning us too!”

“Then help me to stop!”

“How! You—” Turning around to face him, you nearly fall over when you see him kneeling with a smile – a ring extended out to you. Your mouth goes dry even though you snap it shut.

“You gonna make me kneel on concrete all day? Or you gonna say yes?”

 5.      His capacity for forgiveness wasn’t infinite. (Moxley)

You didn’t have much, but you two were making it work. That was until his buddy failed to pay him for some flooring job, and you needed it to make rent. You were still a hundred dollars short, and this was strike two with the friend. Moxley’s capacity for forgiveness wasn’t infinite.

You fan the money out on your mattress one last time, sighing heavily, “I will talk to the landlord tomorrow. I can have the last of the money by the end of the week. I’ll just—pick up some hours at the bar.”

“That’s not the fucking point, (Y/N)!”

“Well, we can keep bitching or figure out a solution! I’m telling you that we’ll be fine!” You had managed to watch your tone and blood pressure until now, “I get that you’re pissed, but I’m not going to sit here and suffer because one of your fucking friends failed. This is my home, too!”

Jon fingers flex in and out, balling into fists even as he drops down to sit on the mattress beside you. When you hear him take a breath, you rest a hand on his thigh and glance at him over your shoulder, subtly encouraging him to speak, “I think the landlord thinks you’re cute.”

“All the more reason for me to do it, not you.” You start to put the money back into the reformed pickle jar – your bank of the moment, and stick it back in its hiding spot.

Jon rests flat on his back when you return, and you know the frustration is killing him. You don’t bother to be subtle, removing your t-shirt as you straddle his lap, and indulge in the beautiful smile he finally lets emerge, “Well, before I can fix this, I gotta get you to calm down, right? Bring it on, Mox.”

 6.      “You used me?” (Seth)

“So that’s what you did? You used me?” He begins to pull you into his lap as you try to get away, “Just to get over your shitty day.”

“Be happy that you are my happy place, Rollins.” You drape your arms loosely around him and teasingly move your barely covered behind against his sweatpants covered lap, “You get to be my outlet for all that work frustration.”

“You know,” Seth’s fingers brush your hair behind your shoulder, his tone suddenly very serious, “you don’t have to stay there, (Y/N). I know…you’re too damn stubborn and proud for your own good, but if you need to quit. Quit.”

Uncomfortable, you lose all humor too, as your fingernails tease his exposed shoulder, “Right, this coming from the guy who just bitched about me using him? How would you feel when your new roommate wasn’t pulling her weight around here?”

His answer is quiet, but it appears without a second’s hesitation, “I’d feel honored she trusted me enough to take care of her.”

 7.      He was terrified of small spaces and she knew. (Roman)

Roman looked like a caged animal, even as they assured the two of you that the elevator would be operational again any minute (it had been nearly twenty). The lights flickered when they wanted to, leaving mostly a red glow in the dimly lit confines.

The two of you had agreed to attend the black tie event together, but the new hotel where the event was being held still had a few items to work out in their building. You used hand to gather and twist your hair up; you then used the other to fan yourself off, hoping you make up stood up to the heat. This action caused his back and forth pace to slightly still, his eyes glued to you even though it took you a second to notice.

You continue with your action, slightly flustered by his stare. You knew he was terrified of small spaces, but you had no idea how to help – this action had an effect but you had no idea why, “You okay?”

“Are you trying to distract me?” Roman is down to a few steps back and forth, eyes refusing to look into yours as he – instead – looks you up and down, “Because it’s working.”

“No, I was just—” You stop fanning yourself, swallowing hard as you continue to hold your hair up, “It’s hot.”

“Mmhmm.”

Roman only manages this sound before his lips are on yours, his arms gathering you up slightly off your feet. You make a small sound of your own, dropping your hands to your sides, as he presses you into the wall; when the elevator moves again, you’re unsure if it’s real or in your fuzzy imagination.

 8.      “Don’t give me that look.” (Seth)

“Don’t give me that look, (Y/N).” Seth’s hand moves up and down your outer thigh, attempting to calm you down, “I can’t do much, but I could at least help my girl get away from something she hates. Let me do this.”

“No, I’m not with you because I wanna be taken care of. This conversation is going nowhere.” You try to leave, but his arm curled around your waist tightens as his hand grips your thigh, “No, I’m not quitting my job.”

“Do you trust me?”

“How could you even ask me that? Of course, I do.”

“Then know that I trust you. I can handle things while you find a new job.” Seth kisses your jaw then the side of your throat; you can literally feel his smile before he whispers in your ear, “I got you, babe. Let your man handle things.”

 9.      There were only so many things you could hide from. (Moxley)

There were only so many things you could hide from; Jon Moxley was not one of them. With your back pressed to your own front door, your eyes drifted up into his. His hands were planted on the hardwood surface around you, trapping you in place as you tried so desperately to avoid this conversation.

He had heard you at the party; Jon knew how you felt about him. As much as you wanted to hide it, you were infatuated – lusting in a way you never had before. He gave you a nervous energy, always on pins and needles when he was anywhere near, but this invasion of space made it damn near impossible to breathe.

 10.  “I can’t stand you.” (Seth)

Seth’s frustration grew as you pressed on his shoulders, forcing him to sit back down on the couch, “I can’t stand you.”

“Oooo, say it again real slow.” You narrow your eyes as him, sitting beside him and throwing your legs over his lap, “You are supposed to take it easy. You hating me for making sure that happens? That just means I’m doing something right.”

“Tell me again why I’m with a woman who just thinks she gets to run everything.”

“Because I’m wonderful at getting exactly what I want,” You take his chin in your hand, forcing him to stare at you as you kiss his pout, “That includes whatever I want from you.”

 11.  She was broken in a lot of ways, but there was a brilliance in her that he wanted to know all about.(Moxley)

Jon has no idea how to respond to you as you avoid him; you still unsure of how he got into your apartment. He had no clue he was part of the reason you had sat home on a Saturday night, half way through the bottle of the hardest liquor in your bare cupboards.

You shook your head, bringing the bottle to your lips again, as he grabbed one of the two small chairs at your dinner table, bringing it up to your side at the couch. Straddling it, the back of the chair pressed to his chest, he crossed his arms and eyed you closely, “You should stop.”

“Why? Because you said so? Excuse me, if I don’t bow down to the almighty Moxley.”

 12.  “Get away from me!” (Seth)

“Get away from me!” You shouted, trying to get back into the house, only to have him catch your waist; the loud scream leaving your lips just before the water rushed around you.

The pool water was fresh, but you didn’t want to go in on a cold summer night – despite his excitement. You had no choice now as you were swimming in the deep end.

Seth’s cackle caused you to slap water at him before smoothing your hair back, “Damn it, babe!” Your teeth immediately begin to chatter as small breeze comes through the air, “I’m freezing!”

“Aw, come here…” The water easily aides him as he catches your waist and brings you to him, “I can warm you up, you know?”

“No, you got me in this damn pool now. I’m not doing anything in this water.” You hold your hands to his chest, trying not to smile as he attacks you with quick pecks to your cheeks and throat, “You gonna have to deal with a pissed off girlfriend now.”

“Or…” His hand is like a hot brick, causing you to gasp, as he slips it under your shirt and presses against the small of your back, “I can start to calm you down here then warm you up in the house.”

 13.  The kiss tasted like tears. (Moxley)

The kiss tasted like tears; your first kiss with Moxley drips with bittersweet tenderness. You are uncertain if he really wanted it, or he was just desperate to stop you from crying.

You hated when you got like this, talking about the past and feeling weak. Your heart ached for multiple reasons as his lips caressed yours, no invasion of tongue or passion. Instead, it was an unspoken understanding that he give you with the intimate touch, departing the kiss with a gentle smack. His fingers immediately tucking your hair behind your ears as his thumbs sneak to your cheeks to wipe away the tears you had shamefully allowed to fall.

Every bit of you wants to question what monumental thing just happened, but you remain in a stunned silence when his smile assures you that nothing else has to be said.

 14.  “I hope one day you’re as happy as you’re pretending to be.” (Moxley)

“You know what, Mox?” You snap as you grab your bag and keys, “I hope one day you’re as happy as you’re pretending to be.” When you attempt to shove past him, he stops you – his hands on your biceps, “Get the fuck outta my way.”

“No, wait.” Mox growls when you try to pass him anyway, “Stop.”

“What? I’m not going to stand here as you just ignore me and—”

“You’re right, okay? Is that what you need to hear?” He lets you go, stepping back and putting his arms behind his back, “I’m pissed about what happened.”

 15.  His eyes brimmed with unshed tears, but neither of you mentioned it. (Moxley)

“So why lie to me? Why pretend like everything is okay?”

“Because I have to fix it. Me, myself, and I. Not you.”

“That’s no excuse to hide from me.” You set your stuff down on the counter once more, closing the distance between you, “You can lean on me, Mox.” You take his hands from behind him, forcing his arms around you, and continue, unafraid, “I want you to.”

You refused to acknowledge the glossiness of his stare, knowing it would send him further over the edge; especially as he cringes at his own sniffle and locks his hands at your waist. You snake your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, “I’m here for you.”

 16.  “I promised myself I wouldn’t let you complete me.” (Seth)

You are in and out of sleep, but he has been up for hours. His sleep schedule, revolving around endless work related appearances and mechanics, is chaotic at best. It is in this half slumber state that you swear he talks to you. Eyelids too heavy to open, you listen as he speaks softly into the air, almost as though he is confessing to a priest.

“I promised myself…I wouldn’t let you complete me.” From the sound of his voice, the feel of his breath, he is still spooning you; his fingers ghost your skin as he continues, “I don’t ever wanna let you down, (Y/N). I can’t afford to lose you. So…I’m going to ask you to marry me tomorrow…and you’re going to say yes. Then, maybe, I won’t be afraid anymore.”

You convince yourself that it’s a dream. There’s no way he could have this intention…no way.

 17.  He held her for what felt like decades. (Roman)

A smile attempts to form on your lips as you finally step out of his hold, “Thank you, Roman. I appreciate everything that—”

“You don’t have to do that with me.” His glove covered hand grips your bicep, “I know how disappointing that kind of loss can be.”

“I’ll be fine, right? Isn’t that what they used to tell you, Champ?” You recognize the sarcasm is coating all your words; but he sees right through you, and you hate it, “Thanks for the concern. But I’ll be fine.”

“Right, well, when your ego deflates a little, you know my room number.” He kisses your forehead then disappears, before you can reward him with a witty comeback.

 18.  “If you take her eyes, she will be blind; but if you take her heart, she will be empty.” (Seth)

“What are you looking at?” You are slightly flustered when he points out the quote to you, “Of course, in a bible of quotes, you’d find the most depressing one.”

Seth was exhausted from his flight, but he still let you drag him to the bookstore before heading home. You had run all your errands prior to his arrival, except for this one.

Adjusting his thick black frames, he snaps the book shut and sets it back on the shelf, “It makes you think though.”

You knew what he was referring to, the guilt which nearly kept the two of you apart, “Hey…” Snuggling up to him, you kiss his t-shirt covered shoulder, “You know what that quote doesn’t say?”

Seth looks over at you, trying to restrain a smile, “What’s that?”

“It takes a masterful hand to stitch a heart back together again.”

 19.  You just wanted to drag your nails down his back and tangle your fingers in his hair. (Roman)

But you resist the urge as you step off the elevator, walking in the opposite direction down the hallway; you can’t continue to use Roman when it’s convenient. He gets full of himself, thinking he can somehow make things better or tell you what’s what on a night like tonight.

You don’t want a boyfriend. You don’t want to depend on anyone for that matter. They have a terrible habit of letting you down all the time.

Getting settled in for the night, you hear the repetitive thud on your door just as you are about to slide into bed. You know who it is, what he wants, and what it will lead to…yet you hesitate.

 20.  “You are cordially invited to go fuck yourself.” (Moxley)

“Oh, really? You are cordially invited to go fuck yourself, bitch!”

You have nearly snatched her hair as the audience roars, but he prevents the contact and gets your glare in response. Reby continues to snap back at you; but all you see is red and her voice just sounds like ringing in your ears.

Jon Moxley, along with the rest of the audience, is clearly enjoying the sight, especially as he gets to ‘handle’ you and keep you from striking your target, “Maybe you should establish what kind of match this is–”

Snatch the mic out of his hand, well aware of how much you are turning him on with your anger and the kind of night you have in store once you leave the ring, “It is an ‘I’m gonna kick everybody’s ass who keeps me from punching that skank’ match!”

 21.  It started without the glamour, without the drama; it started with a smile. (Seth)

His smile is everything to you, pure poetry when he lets a genuine one dress his lips; even now, despite the way things have ended, you still lock the image in your mind as he hands you the tissue to wipe your eyes.

“I was proud of you. I mean—I know I have no right to be, but that was…amazing.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of incredible, Seth. You must have forgotten.”

You are proud of what your match, and nothing could bring you down. The tears were happy, and his space beside you was familiar. You two started without the glamour, without the drama; it started with a smile – the same one he showed to you now.

“Not for a second, (Y/N).”

 22.  “There is a fine line between being sexually frustrated and sexually furious.” (Roman)

“You know that right?” Roman stands with his back to the door, the same one he entered and closed without much of an invitation from you. The man oozes sex without trying, staring down at you like your fresh meat, “You wanna guess which one you’re making me right now?”

“Come on, that’s not fair.” You step back as he approaches, ignoring his smile by bowing your head, “I wasn’t even trying.”

“You don’t have to do much.” Roman backs you up until the back of your legs hit the bed, “Playing hard to get is just blurring that line more and more for me.”

 23.  He didn’t have anyone else, so you always made sure that you were there for him. (Roman)

One versus all was supposed to be just a gimmick, you never expected him to be trapped in a storyline that made it true. Yet there he sat, barely surviving his latest title defense, alone in the locker room.

You don’t wait for an invitation into the room, instead going in and straddling the bench next to him. His eyes are glued to the title in his lap; he has yet to touch ground.

Curling your arms around him, you kiss his sweaty bicep then tilt your head until his eyes finally lock onto yours. You smile as he frees a hand from the belt and snakes it into your hair, “You did great tonight, Champ.”

 24.  “He still loves you.” (Seth)

“What if I told you your ex still thinks about you?”

“Seth, just stop.” Your arms remain crossed as you adjust uncomfortably beside him; the bitterness of your ending tightens your jaw as the tears itch your eyes. You look away, sneaking a swipe of stray tears.

Seth knows what he’s done; he knows it is anything but okay. You are justified in walking away, justified in tending to the line of men who were begging for a chance with you. Still, shameless and foolish enough to be brave, Seth’s voice is airy and warm, “He still loves you.”

 25.  He wasn’t as tough as they all thought, and she knew it. (Dean)

You don’t say a word when he moves away from the wash cloth; you know why he resists. You know how pissed he is when things don’t go perfect, when his matches aren’t exactly what he pictured they would be. At this stage, Dean Ambrose expects every match to be perfect, and stupid mistakes irk him for days.

Rather than argue, you use your free hand and press your index and middle finger to his healthy jaw – forcing him to stay in place as you wash the dry blood of his wound.  Once you’re certain he will stay in place, you drop your hand to his and lace your fingers with his.

After a stubborn breath heavily leaves him, his blue eyes find yours following a kiss to your skin, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome…asshole.”

I hope you enjoyed! Sending you much love and sweets for my sweet, Valentine queens!!!

Tags: @comeonerleen @thelookingglassalice @mrsjonmoxley @ladymoxley @ashleyh28​  @dirtydeedsmewithsassbelievethat

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Life has a way of throwing dreams at you and asking you to choose one

x Part Four x

You don’t look up from the timer on your phone, even when you hear your bedroom door open and close.

“Everyone’s still out, believe or not.” Ivelisse takes a nervous seat beside you, “Guess you already got the hard part out of the way?”

“I still can’t believe there were so many.”

The aisle at the small corner market threatened you with judgement, the tests conveniently arranged beside smiling babies on formula canisters and pamper boxes; you had a feel the cashier would’ve judged you had it not been for the large ring on your finger. Ever since Ivelisse had announced the possibility, you had tunnel vision and just had to know; at this point, you were unsure of what thoughts were remaining in your head and which were finding their voices aloud.

“(Y/N)…” She says you name gently, yet it has that tone which urges you to look at her; Ivelisse knows you won’t do it on your own, so she carefully removes the phone from you hand and tosses it over her shoulder to the mattress behind you.  Taking one of your hands in hers, she offers small smile, “I’m sorry that I brought it up…and if I ruined this whole weekend for you.”

“I can’t believe you’re apologizing when this whole weekend was supposed to be about you, and I’m—selfishly turning it into something about me…unintentional or not. I get to wear the badge of disgrace this weekend, shittiest fucking friend alive.”

“I had a great time last night, aside from my embarrassing phone call, and my girls got no complaints.” She slightly nudges your arm with her elbow, “We’re good. I promise.”

“I don’t know how to do this, Ive. If that test is positive—” You shake your head, trying to review a mental calendar, “I’ve been on the pill. We even use protection…sometimes. I—I shouldn’t be pregnant. I’m on the verge of a title run, and Jon’s even closer than I am.”

“You’ll figure it out, mami.” Her voice is the most comforting thing you have to hold onto as she strokes your hair behind your shoulder, “And if he doesn’t do right by you, I know some people who can help us make sure he disappears.”

You let out a sharp laugh, forcing tears back, and shake your head, “This can’t be happening. I can’t even—wrap my mind around it. I need…a distraction…something else to think about. Please,” You pause, swallowing hard and begging her, “tell me something...anything.”

She bows her head a little, taking a second before announcing, “...Angelico asked me to marry him.”

Your wide eyes find her uncertain frown, jaw dropped you manage to ask, “You said?”

Ivelisse shrugs her shoulders, sensing your reprimand before it appears, “I know, okay? I could lose him if I act scared, but—I suggested we live together.”

“As what? A consolation prize?”

“As a—give me time so I don’t think I’m going to fuck things up with you the way I did with Matt.” Ivelisse still blames herself for the fiasco end with Son of Havoc, and everyone’s reassurances have done little to change her mind. You see tears mist her ebony eyes as she laughs at herself, “I told him I’d give him an answer when I got back home…then I gave him that fucking phone call last night.”

“Yeah…about that…” You are afraid to announce he’s coming, but it’s time to drop the bomb.

“I know.” She stops you, holding up a hand, “I got more than a few text messages warning me about it this morning.”

“But he’s gonna expect…”

“And…” Rubbing her hands anxiously against her thighs, she finishes your mutual thought, “I’ll have to give him an answer.”

“Which is…?”

Before she could answer, the obnoxious alarm sounds and tells you that your own answer has come.

--------------

Angelico had arrived at the suite about an hour ago and taken Ivelisse away from the group. You watch them carefully from the bay window, knees slightly drawn inward as you sit on the fluffy carpeted floor. They have been going back forth since reaching the sand; both clearly hoping to win the pointless argument between them. Ivelisse finds reasons to back off yet Angelico maneuvers his hands back to her hips or to her shoulders every time it looks like she’s gonna run away completely.

“They still going at it?” Bayley parks beside you on the floor, wearing glasses inside - wrapped in a blanket from her bed; you nod, and she sighs, “I wonder what they’re talking about.”

A number of things you’re sure. You just want to watch to make sure she’s okay; all your shit can take a backburner if this goes to hell. Bayley’s gasp signals that is exactly what might happen as Angelico takes a knee in front of Ivelisse, her hands within his tight grasp.

Come on, Ive. Don’t run. Don’t be scared. He loves you. You love him.

An unspeakable relief washes over you as Bayley squeals, slightly bouncing in her seat, while Ivelisse nods yes, staring down at him. After retrieving the ring from his pocket and slipping it on her finger, Angelico’s arms around her as his lips dip down to catch hers. You and Bayley only stop staring when Ivelisse jumps up and wraps her legs around him; their moment was no longer something you could intrude on.

Bayley pouts back to her room as you chuckle, promising her something easy for dinner, as you make your way back to your room; falling onto the bed, you slide your hand under the hem of your shirt and swallow hard as you feel your wedding ring come across your flat stomach…tears flood your eyes as you realize it is Jon’s first kiss to your child.

--------------

Angelico’s appearance in Puerto Rico had made the rest of Ivelisse’s birthday weekend about their engagement, and you were thankful for that. Ivelisse is latched onto him so much that the questions about your situation got brushed aside; you were fine with that because you needed the distraction. 

However, as the plane touched down, you could no longer ignore the situation.

You wait until everyone else gets off, needing a few extra seconds to contemplate how you are going to roll out the news to Jon. How did you reveal this news to Jon Moxley? You two had a weird version of normal, and this was going to change all of that.

Emerging into the waiting area, you see him staring at the ceiling windows and dancing to some tune in his head; he’s beautiful. His fluffy curls seep out of his slate colored beanie, while his jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie do little to conceal his muscular form; you are so thankful that his wedding band is obvious on his finger as you see a couple of admirers pass him.

Jon must feel you staring at him as his eyes find yours and that killer smile immediately decorates his lips; you melt into a puddle of pure love for him, shy and uncertain in your stand.

That’s okay. He rushes up to you, gathering you into his arms and somewhat lifting you off the ground as he captures lip for a deep kiss that hints exactly how much he’s missed you. 

AN: I have another chapter complete. It just needs an edit. I will hopefully post that tomorrow. I hope you are enjoying the last part of the series! Love you, queens!

Tags: @comeonerleen @thelookingglassalice @mrsjonmoxley @ladymoxley  @ashleyh28​  @dirtydeedsmewithsassbelievethat​

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Life has a way of throwing dreams at you and asking you to choose one

x Part Three x

“Are you okay?”

You were anything but okay as the music thumped throughout the bus; the women around you breaking off in sporadic laughter and shouts of Ivelisse’s name. But you were trying to play it off, before you had even made it onto the bus, you had rushed back to your bedroom in the suite – claiming you had to grab some cash. Instead, you had ended up in the bathroom – puking up what little substance was in your stomach. This was the wrong time to be so sick, to feel like you had the flu with your muscles aching, exhaustion, and stomach somersaults.

Still nursing the shot they had tried to tempt you with, you merely nod at Bayley, “I’m fine.”

Bayley obviously didn’t believe you, checking for Ivelisse’s attention elsewhere before exchanging your full shot glass with her empty one, shaking her head and tossing it back with a wince. She knew, whatever your problem was, you wouldn’t want Ivelisse to think you weren’t participating in her party. She tucks both of your glasses into the cushions then speaks into your ear, “You better act buzzed before she gets suspicious.”

So, you did. It was easy to act, casually tossing have the alcohol you were to consume on a cushion before handing it to Bayley. Then, finally getting to the club, your party enters a wave of heat and sound. This doesn’t help your illness, only threatens to expose it, until you make it to the V.I.P. section. You wait for everyone to pop their first bottle before pulling the waitress aside and requesting that she gets you club soda, “And keep them coming please.”

Once you consume a full glass, it is easier to join in the party. Luckily, Ivelisse is already riding a wave of blissful intoxication and dancing happily among the group. Everyone, including poor Bayley who has done more than her share, is winding with the beat. The drinks continue to encourage your dance for hours, and you are the only sober one among your group (though no one has a clue). That is until Ivelisse tries to stumble out of the area and to the bathroom; you promise everyone you have her and assist her.

Immediately after she’s somewhat stumbled out of stall to wash her hands, you take a cool and damp paper towel to place against the back of her neck; you hold hair up in a lose bun and watch as she runs some cool water over her waterproof make up. Once she stands a little straighter, you hand her a dry paper towel and assist her to the upstairs balcony for some fresh air. 

This may not have been the best idea as you are so busy trying to get air yourself that you didn’t catch her pulling out her cell phone. You don’t recognize a thing until you hear her somewhat whine, “Angelico?”

“Shit!” You try to yank the phone from her hand, but she holds her hand out steps back, “Don’t listen to anything she says, Angelico! She’s drunk off her fucking ass!”

“I love you, papi.” Her confession causes you to stand absolutely dumbfounded; God, you hope this isn’t the first time she’s said this to him. You become statue still as she shuts her eyes and holds her free hand to her forehead, “I don’t—I know I give you shit. All the time, and…it’s because I get so scared. Of—everything, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But—no, shut up! I’m trying to tell you something! I love you, stupid ass! I miss you, and I hate it. I hate that you’re not always around, and I swear if you hurt me I’m gonna kick your ass…okay?”

Shit, shit, shit. You can only imagine what’s going on with Angelico on the other end of the line.

“I love you, too. I do.”

“All right, all right,” You manage to pry the phone out of her drunk clutch and shut your eyes, preparing for the backlash as you greet, “…Angelico?”

“What the fuck, (Y/N)? How much has she had?”

“A—bottle or two.”

“Of what?”

“She’s gonna be fine. I promise. I’m watching her, okay?”

His accent becomes so thickened with anger that you barely understand him, but his intentions are clear, “Bullshit, I’m flying out there tomorrow. I’d be there tonight if it wasn’t for this match. Don’t let shit happen to my girl, all right?”

“Sure thing.” You shut the phone off, knowing there was no stopping him, and tuck the cell phone back into her bra, sighing, “You’re gonna be pissed tomorrow, birthday girl.”

--------------

You enjoy the warm morning air, sitting on the terrace and staring out at the island beginning to stir again, “I’m fine, Mox. I’m eating breakfast now, and they’re all asleep upstairs with a trash can nearby.”

“And you were what? DD last night?”

“I guess. Kind of. Someone had to look out for a group of beautiful girls in Puerto Rico.”

“I’m just glad Ivelisse had a good time, and I don’t have to get arrested.”

He lets out a groan so familiar that you close your eyes and see him stretching his limbs; you wanted to be there, wanted to be with him. You ignore the urge to whine or give him ideas, “Interviews today?”

“A couple. Figured I’d keep myself busy until you get back home, island fresh.”

You roll your eyes, popping a piece of fruit into your mouth, “After watching Ivelisse’s craziness last night, I have a feeling the island fun is gonna stop the second Angelico gets here.”

“Yeah, and the reason I couldn’t go was….?”

“I thought it was an all girl’s weekend, babe. I didn’t know she was gonna go crazy and get him pissed enough to fly here like Superman.”

“Well, at least with him there, I don’t have to worry about the second night of Ivelisse’s party bus.” Jon laughs at your restrained growl, “Look, wife, I can be a little protective.”

“Wait, are you pulling rank, husband? Like this ring entitles you to some kind of say?”

“We’re going to have a long talk when you get back, might involve a spanking if you keep back talking me.”

“Is this before or after we break a headboard?”

“Shit, you two are already at it and in public nonetheless?” Ivelisse’s disapproval immediately quiets the confident conversation between you and Jon; she falls into the seat across from you with dark Locs and an unnecessary hoodie shielding her just slightly from the world.

“Babe, we gotta continue this later. The bitchy beast has emerged.” He mumbles something you can’t quite make out before hanging up the phone; you put your phone down, pushing your plate to her side of the table, “Want me to get you a bagel or something?”

“This is fine.” She starts to pick at the muffin on your plate, “So, did you tell your man what’s wrong with you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you were the only one who woke up this morning without a hangover.” She lowers her shades as you frown at her, somewhat irritated you were not as undercover as you thought last night, “You take a test?”

You bite into another piece of fresh fruit, “A test for what?”

AN: This picks up where “Times Like These” left off. Final story to Moxley series. Should be ten parts. I hope you enjoy. :)

Tags: @comeonerleen @thelookingglassalice @mrsjonmoxley @ladymoxley @blueboxdiva @ashleyh28 @dirtydeedsmewithsassbelievethat

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Life has a way of throwing dreams at you and asking you to choose one

x Part One x

Crawling onto the bed, slow in your approach of him, you throw your leg over his lap and hide a playful smile, “So do you want anything while I’m gone?”

“Well, keeping you here isn’t an option so…” Jon’s hands slide onto the curve of your hips, his back propped against the headboard, “Just come back to me. Quick.”

You shake your head, bringing it to a bow as your hands begin to creep along his torso, “You’re not sick of us yet? Dying for a break?”

It had been nearly a year since the two of you had gotten back together, sped towards an aisle, and began to settle on the main roster at the WWE. You two traveled, lived, and conducted your lives in almost perfect sync – aside from the occasional argument about who was paying either one of you too much attention. It was better than you could ever anticipate it being, but you (as well as Jon) had the terrible habit of expecting the worse; so that’s why you dropped the horrible comments that pissed him off.

“I don’t get sick of you.” His arms, thicker and solid every time they gather you within them, pull you inward until you are mere inches from his face, “Just want more.”

“Mmm…that’s a damn near perfect response, hubby.” You give him a kiss which lingers, playing with the length of his fluffy curls, then ease yourself back, tilting your head with the small smack of your lips, “I don’t leave until early morning though so…”

“That’s very true.” Jon gives no warning before tossing you onto your side of the bed; it’s so careless you slightly bounce and erupt with laughter as he covers the length of your body with his, “Let’s get you all tired for that long plane ride tomorrow.”

“Yeah, plan on giving me a different ride?” Your pun does nothing to dial down the heat stirring in his flame lit gaze set upon you; however, your blaring ringtone had the horrid habit of killing your mood. Especially when you heard “My Main” by Mila J; it was Ivelisse.

You grab your phone, answering her mid-Mila note and sit up on your knees when he rolls onto his back in mild frustration, “Hey, babe.”

Ivelisse sounds slightly panicked, “Hey, did you double check your flight for tomorrow?”

“Yep, flights and hotel secured in Puerto Rico as of two p.m. tomorrow.” Your repetition of the itinerary for Ivelisse’s all girl, birthday weekend causes Jon to roll his eyes; he curls his arms under his head and tries to be patient as you go on, “You all packed?”

“Been packed. It’s just a matter of keeping Angelico’s grabby hands out of my bag.” Her snappy tone alerts you that her man is nearby, “He’s not really feeling some of clothing choices.”

You can hear his thick accent in the background, “I can barely get you to wear this shit for me, but you want to go to the island and sit on the sand like this.”

While they engage in couple banter, you pin the phone between your shoulder and ear; Jon wrinkles his brow until you are undoing his jeans and easing them off his hips, mouthing to him, ‘Multi-tasking.’ He lets out a boyish grin, clearly impressed, and chuckles as you yank them down his thighs and toss them aside, leaving him in a relaxed pose.

“I’m going to be with a bunch of girls! Would you calm down?”

You hop off the bed, peeling yourself out of your clothes as you continue to listen to the two of them; the whole time Jon’s eyes drink you in. Once you slither back onto the bed, giving him a flirtatious grin, your fingers curl around his length and begin to caress him. His eyes shut as you conduct a warm and tight massage; the whole while you try to remind Ivelisse, “Angelico is not preventing this trip. Tell him to get over it.”

Jon groans, stiff to your touch, as you do your best to conclude to discussion and give your man something to remember you by for the next few days. Throwing your leg over his lap again, your hands never stopping their work, you become irritated as Ivelisse and Angelico carry on a separate conversation. Distracting yourself, you rub his tip against yourself and are instantly distracted. You would give just about anything to be done with this conversation, no matter how much you love Ivelisse and are determined to make this weekend all about her.

However, it impossible to ignore Jon as his hands curl around your waist and guide your movement – the two of you beginning to breath heavily in response to the friction. You focus is beginning to fail you; Jon picks up on this, sitting up and snatching the phone from you, “Ive, she’s got everything under control and needs to hang up now.”

Your jaw drops, eyes now wide, as he hangs up on her and tosses the phone to your nightstand; driving into you, he removes your surprise and all argument to regain your full attention.

--------------

I love you. Have fun and come back to me. Quick.

You smile at the message which pings your phone once you are in the air; truthfully, it’s been a while since you guys have spent a whole weekend apart so you’re a little nervous. When you had too much time to yourself, you tended to overthink and make stupid decisions.

But that cannot happen this weekend. You’ll be too focused on your best friend, birthday girl and the beautiful island to think about your husband. Just as you begin to type a message back to him, the plane begins to jerk with turbulence. It carries on for a few minutes as the pilot assures everyone it should resolve itself soon.

You have always hated flights, but you had grown use to them – except in moments like this. Moments like this had you staring at the seat belt sign, waiting for it to blink, before you could rush to the restroom.  By the time the plane has evened out, the damage has been done.

You swallowed hard, hand immediately at your stomach, as you pressed the call button. The second the stewardess came near, you found enough breath to request ginger ale. When she nodded, you tilted your head back and tried to focus on the steadiness of your breathing.

When you have calmed down enough, praying for the flight to go quick, you return to your phone and type an entirely new response.

A/N: Final part of this holiday fic. Hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jon Moxley x Reader 

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Tags: @heelsandfaces​ @ladymoxley​ @thelookingglassalice​ @dirtydeedsmewithsassbelievethat

x Part Three x

You wait for the water to go cold, hearing Jon’s feet padding on the hardwood floor upstairs, then get out of the bath. Wrapping yourself securely in a fluffy bath towel, you nod towards your dry hair – happy you hadn’t drenched it while sinking into the water. As you are coming out of the bathroom, Jon is locking your bedroom door behind himself.

When your eyes meet, he pulls his shirt overhead but leaves his blue sweatpants on. Disappointed, you turn your back to him and dig into the top drawer of the dresser; briefly, you hold onto a black baby doll nightgown you haven’t worn in forever; you drop it out of your hand as you wonder if you’d be secure enough to wear and still possibly receive rejection. You worked hard at your job, at being a good mother, but you had been doing a lot of work to get your body damn near close to your idea of perfection. Part of you wondered if he had even noticed as he tried to handle his own full plate.

“Hey…”

You shiver at the sound of his voice in your ear, turning around with to see him slightly chewing his lip and holding mistletoe over your heads. Chuckling at the gesture, you cup his face in your hands and place a sweet kiss on his lips – nothing suggestive, nothing aggressive. You release him after a moment, smiling with a slow blink, “Merry Christmas, baby.” 

It was officially Christmas Eve, and you were sure he was done with the day – despite his somewhat romantic gesture.  You turn your back to him again, grabbing a plain white t-shirt and stepping past him to ready yourself for bed.

“That’s it?” Jon’s disappointment is evident as you turn around, towel gone and baggy t-shirt blanketing your body, “A little kiss and ‘Merry Christmas, baby’?”

You slightly tug at the hem, happy the fabric still feels soft, “It’s been a long day.”

“Not long enough for me to miss that my wife is pissed about something.” Jon folds his arms, the mistletoe still tucked between his index and middle finger, “What’d I do?”

“Nothing, babe. I’m just…” Lonely. Missing you. Sexually frustrated. Feeling ignored. Your courage dissolves under his grey blue stare, causing you to sigh, “Holidays, you know? So much to do.”

“The fuck, (Y/N)?” Jon keeps you from moving a step, his hand immediately on your hip, “Something is really wrong. What is it?”

You pin your hands behind yourself, pinching your bottom lip between your teeth, and lock your fingers, needing not to feel like a desperate housewife.

Somewhat shaking you, Jon urges, “Talk to me.”

You hang your head, immediately ashamed and guilty; however, you release your thoughts given the opportunity, “I miss you.”

Jon slides his other hand around your waist, pressing his forehead against yours, “I missed you, too.”

“No,” You ease back, embarrassed by his confused stare, and ramble, “I miss you, Moxley.”

The mention of ‘Moxley’ clearly catches him off guard.

“I miss when you were desperate to see me and not everything felt like some kind of—housekeeping magazine.” You force his arms from around you, taking a few steps back, and decide to go for broke with your confession, “Listen, I love you as my husband and I would trade my babies for nothing in the world. But—I can’t lie. I miss broken furniture and—hickeys that I gotta hide. I miss feeling like one sore muscle and—you looking at me like I’m the sexiest thing in the world.”

His concentrated yet taken aback expression assures you that he had not a clue you felt this way; you were doing a good job of hiding it all, carrying all the insecurities on your shoulders. That’s what you tried to tell yourself until you detected the slight sadness in his stare, like he thought your marriage was in danger and he had somehow created the problems by not doing something.

You feel like a huge pile of shit, the exact consequence you had been trying to avoid for some time now. On the verge of shameful tears, you wave your hands in front of your face with a sharp laugh, “Forget I said anything, okay? It’s so-stupid and childish. I—I’m sorry I even brought it up. Okay? Can we just—forget I said anything? I’m sorry.” You kiss his cheek quickly, climbing under the covers and curling into a ball facing away from his side of the bed. Shutting your eyes tight, you force tears back, and hope your deep breaths are quiet as you attempt to calm yourself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should’ve kept your fucking mouth shut.

After some time, you feel his weight on the bed, shifting slow – like he can’t get comfortable. You pray for sleep, that the two of you will forget this, and want to kick your own ass for being so damn honest. Dumbest idea you’ve ever had.

Jon’s hand slides across your throat, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking it so hard you are forced to roll onto your back; his lips crush yours before you can apologize or ask questions. Immediately, your body flickers with sensations when his tongue forces its way into your mouth and his hand somehow tightens even more in its grip.

He says nothing, but you feel his body brush against you – the sweats gone and leaving his beautiful form free for exploration. You moan at the feeling, attempting to snake your hands into his hair only to have him snatch your wrists and pin them above your head. God, you remembered this somewhere in your distant memory – where he so easily made you do whatever he wanted.

The second your lips part, you are both gasping for air – strangled by the kiss and your desire. You twine your legs around him, your breath mutually hitches when his stiffness brushes your wet warmth. Jon’s eyes darken, signaling to you that he’s gone. All he can see is you and the only thing he’s after is your submission.

His hand moves from your hair to the collar of your shirt, pulling hard enough to jerk you to an upright seat and rip the material; you follow his lead, moaning in approval when his mouth sloppily finds yours again, and you could care less about the shirt when he rips it further open to grope at your breasts. Frustrated, you force his hands back to yank off the shirt and bring him in for a kiss, nipping at his lower lip as you sink backwards once more.

Jon’s hands on you, feeling his urgency teasing yours, and you were set. Suddenly, the sadness which had been foolishly consuming you for some time began to dissipate. Yet, it’s replaced with something else entirely as Jon pauses; body hanging over yours, his arms hooked under yours, his mood settles into a different kind of desperation.

There is a tightness in his features; his jaw flexes as his dimples tease his cheeks. You become selfless again, hands caressing his chest, “What is it?”

“I didn’t forget. I never do.” Jon’s words set off a ball of emotion in your stomach, causing the flood to rush to your eyes, “This, you and the kids, that’s all I want. Ever. Don’t think about leaving because I’m too—tired or out of it to remind you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t think that.” You reach down, setting him up for entry and use your legs to bring him inward; savoring the full feeling he gives you, you manage to open your eyes once more with a deep breath, “I just don’t want to miss you anymore…I love you.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” He husks the statement against your lips as he thrusts his hips in a slow, purposeful build until you two have found a natural flow. The patience he demonstrates is downright torture as you begin to meet his thrusts with your own, your hands are again forced above your head as he pins you against the mattress, stopping his movement altogether, “Don’t rush me.”

You groan heavily at his command, needing to answer that ache; but you nod and do as told, waiting for him to move again. Eyes shut tight, you try to keep your sounds quiet but let him know you approve of everything he does. All the while, you can feel his eyes on you – watching and memorizing your expression as your open mouth continues to speak in sounds of approval that your words never could.

When his pace quickens, his breath becomes heavy and his head falls to your shoulder. Fingers tightened around your wrists, he kisses frantically at your skin – each one becoming sloppier and somewhat wetter than the last. You cannot control yourself in response, your body moving despite wanting to let him have control; he seems to approve, groaning louder as you help the friction between the two of you until he’s bitten hard into your shoulder, making your mutual mission complete as your whimper echoes throughout the bedroom. Your bodies continue to move though you’ve driven over the cliff, chasing the last of that wave before you’ve stopped to catch your breath.

In the stillness, your arms and legs embrace him in a tender hold as you kiss at his shoulder and throat – a small reassurance that you are still very much his. Jon laps softly at the mark he’s left upon your skin, like an animal soothing an open wound on its paw. You smile giving him better access with the tilt of your head and savor his attention – gentle kisses covering the same mark until he’s slipped out of you.

The tenderness of his touch comes to a slow dissolve until your eyes are locked; with another hungry kiss to your lips, Jon demonstrates a Moxley smirk before disappearing under the covers in a trail of kisses.