Categories > TV > WWE

If It Makes You Happy

by RhiannonLeighBlack 1 review

Part 1 of the With Arms Wide Open series of one shots. Jon Moxley finds out the hard way what happens when you cheat. Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose)/OC.

Category: WWE - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Published: 2013-04-17 - 2255 words - Complete

Jon Moxley was a desperate man. He’d fucked up the worst he’d ever fucked up with a girl, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to fix it this time.

She always stayed home when he worked shows on the weekend. It was their routine, she’d have her alone time that she needed, and he’d be able to work without a boner. She’d had a persistent stomach problem for the past three weeks, so she’d gone to the doctor Friday morning after she dropped him off at the airport to go to Philly. Unfortunately for Jon, he hadn’t been exactly honest with her about what happened while he was away. While she was at home, doing her own thing, Jon was doing whichever rat caught his eye. It wasn’t anything personal, it wasn’t that he didn’t love her, either. It was just that he’d always been this way. If he hurt them first, they couldn’t hurt him. Every other girl he’d spent time with before understood this, Jon would do what he had to in order to get what he needed, and they’d either deal with it or they wouldn’t. So, Jon had been doing his normal post-show routine, and as soon as he got back to the room, he’d give her a call.

Things had changed this weekend, however. She’d flown out to see him, and she’d waited until she knew the show and the post-show party were over. When he didn’t return to his room like the rest of the boys, she’d come looking for him. Jon would never forget the look of agony on her face when she found him, balls deep in a skinny blonde rat that he’d pinned to the side of the arena, or the betrayal in her eyes as she’d watched him try to get his jeans up. Before he could get the fly zipped, she’d turned and sprinted to the parking lot, and by the time he could stumble after her, all that had been left to chase were the tail lights of the rental car as it sped away.

Now he’d finally made it back to his room, and he charged in, hoping to find her still there, crying in the bathroom like she normally did when they argued, so he’d be able to at least try and talk to her about what she’d seen. Instead, he found his shirt—the one she usually slept in—stretched out on the bed with the promise ring he’d given her left on the chest of it. Jon stared, horrified, as he picked it up. She hadn’t taken that ring off since they day he’d slipped it on her finger, not even to shower, because it meant so much to her.

Glancing around, he saw that the only bag there was his, meaning she had been back long enough to pick up her own. It was too late to catch a flight out, so he could only assume that she’d decided to drive back to Cincinnati.

It was after he’d gotten her voicemail the third time running that the knock sounded at his door. Jon tripped twice trying to get to it to wrench it open, hoping against hope that it was her, but to no avail. Instead of the face he’d hoped to see, he found a freshly showered Drake Younger.

“Hey, man. Your girl was looking for you earlier, just wanted to see if she found you. I dunno what was up, but I’ve never seen her that nervous.”

“Yeah, she found me. And after what she saw, I have my doubts that she ever wants to find me again.”

“Mox, you didn’t.”

“I didn’t know she was going to be here!”

“So she caught you with a rat?”

“Balls deep.”

“Dude, I told you a long time ago that if you kept double dipping you were going to get caught. Did you even talk to her?”

“She didn’t give me the chance. She took off, and her bag’s gone.”

“Why don’t you go after her then?”

“She’s driving back to Cincy.”

“So go after her! I’ll ride with Dev, take the rental and go find her. Stop staring at me like an idiot and go!”

Finally, Jon nodded, quietly agreeing to Drake’s request, and took the keys when they were offered.


It was a grueling drive back to Cincinnati, but Jon made it by 9 am the next morning, and arrived at the front door of his apartment just in time to see Cody Hawk exiting.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

Cody paused as he closed the door to the apartment, before staring at Jon in awe.

“What do you mean what am I doing here, I was lifting boxes for your girl. She was headed back to her place, and it didn’t look like she was coming back for your stuff.”

“What the hell did she need you to lift boxes for? She’s perfectly capable of lifting her own, and what the fuck is this shit about her leaving?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Know WHAT?”

Jon glared at Cody, who stared at him in awe, as though he couldn’t believe that his former protégé couldn’t grasp the concept at hand.

“…Look, Mox, it’s not my place to tell you. You need to talk to her. Do I wanna know what you did to fuck things up?”

“No, you don’t. Tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Jon, I can’t. It’s not my place to tell you anything. And if this is any indication as to why you don’t know, I suggest you get over there and get on your knees. Look, I gotta go, I have to get the building opened up and start the kids running drills. Listen to me, Mox. Talk to her. And don’t fuck this up.”

Jon resisted the urge to punch a hole in the wall that he’d have to pay to have repaired. All he wanted was his girl back in his home, in his bed, and in his arms, where she belonged.

“No rat in the world was worth this. Fuck, I gotta get her to talk to me,” he murmured, as he got back into his car.

The drive across town was spent between begging a God he wasn’t sure he believed in for help, and trying to justify his actions to himself, as though it would change things, or make her forgive him. When he finally arrived, he found Scotty Vortekz unlocking the door of his own vehicle.

“What the hell—nevermind, let me guess, helping with boxes?”

“Yeah, she shouldn’t be—”

“Is she still in there?” Jon asked, not caring how or why she’d duped his former roommate into doing her dirty work.

“Yeah, but—”

“Thanks, man.”

Jon jogged up the front steps of her stoop, and retrieved the spare key from under the flower pot in the window, before letting himself in. He glanced around the living room, noting that the sheets he’d draped over her furniture had been removed, and that her boxes sat on top of both the chairs and the sofa. Stepping down the hall, he began to call her name, but paused before the words left his mouth. Jon could hear her, in the bathroom, puking her guts out yet again. He leaned his shoulder against the door jamb, blocking her way, as she opened the door to emerge, pale faced and red eyed.

“Jon, move.”

“Not until we talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. I need to lie down, I’ve had a long night, and being up for 24 hours straight isn’t—it isn’t good for me right now,” she retorted, ducking under his arm and walking towards the living room.

“I don’t give a fuck what’s good for you, we need to talk. I thought we had an understanding about weekends,” he ranted.

He fell silent as she paused at the fridge, her back to him. He had to stop from reaching out to pull her into his arms as he saw her shoulders beginning to shake from repressed sobs.

“An understanding, Jonathan? Is that what you call it when you screw any whore that wants a shot while you’re gone on the weekends? Because I don’t recall having any sort of “understanding” in place about that,” she snapped, her voice cracking.

“You always knew that I wasn’t the kind of guy who did relationships, goddamn it. I will do what I have to do to get what I need.”

“…What you need. Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

“You’re the one who flew out to Philly without any warning—”

“Do you wanna know why I did that, Jon? Do you want to know why I bothered flying out to Philly a few hours after you left, really? I had something to tell you, something really important, and it couldn’t be said over the phone. But you know what, fuck it. I don’t need you anyway.”

She was crying hard now, so hard that she was barely able to speak, and yet she’d left Jon with more questions than answers.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She spun on her heel, storming past him to dig in her handbag, where it sat on the counter. She extracted a Ziploc bag, and took out the two items inside it, before thrusting them towards him.

“Congratulations, asshole. You’re going to be a father.”

Jon stared at the positive EPT in his hand, and the very first image of his unborn child, printed out at the doctor’s office yesterday morning. Suddenly, everything over the past three weeks made sense. The puking, and the fuller breasts, and the way she curled up even closer than normal to him when he held her at night. He choked as he realized that this is why she’d been so nervous the night before, and why she’d been so desperate to find him.

“I was so happy when I found out, ecstatic even. I couldn’t wait to tell you, Jon, and I couldn’t say it over the phone. You don’t tell a man something like that over the phone. I wanted to see your face when you saw the sonogram, I wanted to see that huge smile that I was so sure you’d have on your face after. I even picked up a couple of books, so we could start thinking about names, and so we’d be prepared for all the stuff that’s gonna happen over the next eight months or so. So I flew out, and I waited in your room until the show was over. And you didn’t come back. I went down to the lobby and I waited there, until everyone else started coming back from the after party. And you weren’t with them. Drake saw me, and he told me he thought you were getting in a quick workout in the weight room at the arena. So I drove over there, worried to death and hoping to find you, and when I got to the weight room you weren’t there. And when I finally did find you? I saw exactly how much you care about me, Jon, how much I really mattered to you, and how much you valued what we had. So I left. And it’s for the best, I think. At least now I’m not stupid enough to believe that while I’m sitting at home, heavily pregnant, that you’re faithful to me.”

She dissolved into gasping sobs, sinking to the floor. Jon moved to help her up, only to have her shove him off her and scoot away. So he opted to kneel in front of her, daring to tuck her hair behind her ear, and getting slapped through the face, hard, for his trouble.

“Baby, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that, I’m not your anything.”

“I’ll be here for you, for all of it. The appointments, the cravings, the false labor—”

“Don’t worry, Jon, I won’t ask you for help. I won’t ask you for a goddamn thing, there’s nothing you have that I want. Just know that I’ve already decided that I’m keeping it. And we’ll be just fine without you.”

Jon fumbled as he dug into his pocket, before finally pulling out the promise ring he’d given her weeks earlier.

“You forgot this when you left,” he stated, taking her hand and placing it firmly into her palm.

“I don’t want it.”

“Keep it. I owe you at least this much.”

“Get out.”


“Just GO, damn it! GET OUT.”

Jon was almost out the door when he heard her speak.

“You know, it’s funny. I never gave a damn about Jon Moxley. All I ever wanted was Jonathan Good. The only thing that seems to matter to you is being Mox, and stroking that ego of yours. I hope it was worth it.”
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