Absolute Smokeshow

The Rhea Ripley Effect

Voices murmured to each other in the dark. You could hardly see three feet in front of you. Faintly, talk-show music started up, as if far away. As it got louder, the lights above you started to turn on slowly, growing brighter with the crescendo. Soon, a cacophony of music and chatter pelted your ears as the harsh lights flooded your eyes.
"Welcome to... The Grayson Waller Effect!" A voice booms, "With your host... Grayson Waller!" Letting your eyes adjust to the light, you look around to find yourself leaning on the ropes at the edge of a ring, a table and two chairs in the middle and what seemed like an unnecessary number of plants surrounding the furniture. The titular host came down toward the ring from somewhere in the audience, microphone in hand. He ducked and squeezed between the ropes, hitting the mic a few times on the way in. You clapped your hands over your ears, wincing at the sound of the feedback.

Grayson Waller waves you over to the seats, sitting down. A groan escapes you, but you find yourself walking through the small forest of plants to sit at the table.
"Hello, everyone! I know it's going to be difficult, but I need you to take your attention off me for just a brief moment! Instead, I want you to focus on this voracious woman to my right" - he gestures in your direction - "I'm sure you all remember her?"
The audience booed and your anxiety rose.
"Oh come now, you really are too mean!" Grayson addressed the audience, "We're here to get the inside scoop on Rhea Ripley's brutality in the bedroom from her former- sorry, what's the proper term? Girlfriend? Lover?"

It was suddenly too warm. You lean forward once you notice a microphone at your seat, "Hold on, I'm not going to kiss and tell-"
"Confirmation: there was kissing!" Grayson announced loudly to the audience, to mixed responses, "Tell me, how far did you go? And, uh" - he leans closer to you - "Are Aussies your type?" - a wink thrown in your direction - "Don't worry, you can tell me."
The crowd hooted, hollered, and whistled as your face grew ever warmer. How were you going to get out of this situation? Who booked you for this interview?
"I tried to get the Eradicator herself here for the interview," he continued, not waiting for a verbal response, "but she said the break-up was - and I quote - "too messy" for her to want to discuss it" - the crowd booed and Grayson held up one hand - "I know, I know" - he turned to you again - "Tell me, did you suspect Rhea was just stringing you along before going back to Dominik Mysterio?"
Did you suspect what?
"I mean she said she isn't even attracted to women, didn't she?" he kept going, "Were there signs? Should we be expecting a challenge against Dominik Mysterio? When will-"

Your knuckles hit the wall next to your bed, waking you up as you let out a pained whine. Rhea shifts next to you, mumbling something unintelligible. Seeing her asleep in bed made it easier for you to disconnect yourself from the stress dream and come back into reality. You touch the place where your hand hit the wall and feel a cold sensation, like water, on your knuckles. Doing your best not to wake Rhea, you carefully crawl out of bed and into the bathroom. It's only after you close the door that you flip the switch, wincing at the light that flooded your eyes.
Upon looking down, you see your knuckles are a bit bloody, but nothing profuse. After gently washing your hands, you rinse and try to remember where you kept the first-aid kit. Drying your uninjured hand completely, you open and close a few drawers and look behind several toiletries before finding the kit. The gauze, wrapping, and antibiotic ointment danced in one hand and onto the other as you contemplate your dream. Your subconscious wasn't even trying to be subtle, was it?
Wound wrapped, you put away the first-aid kit and turn off the light, waiting for your eyes to readjust to the darkness before opening the door. Your heart was still racing a bit from residual anxiety and the alertness that comes from unexpectedly seeing your own blood. Walking quietly to the couch, you pull out your bong and take a seat. The bowl is still half-packed. You light it, watching the embers burn steadily. Clearing the piece, you set it aside, along with your lighter, holding the hit in as long as you could. Once you exhaled fully, you sat up again, wanting to make sure you were in bed and next to Rhea when you fell back asleep. As you crawl back over the sheets, the powerful yet elegant form next to you startles, letting out a sleepy "hmm? Babe?" and moving to sit up slowly.
"Hey, gorgeous," you whisper, getting under the covers. You plant a kiss on her shoulder.
"You okay?" she mumbles, gently rubbing your arm with one hand.
"I'm fine," you assure her, "Just a bad dream. Cuddle me?"
"Yesssss," Rhea responds, pulling the blanket up a bit further before lying down again, arms snaking around you. She pulled you close and kissed the top of your head, knees curling up to meet the back of your legs. The warm breaths that fell on your neck slowed steadily as Rhea's muscles relaxed, letting her full weight lean on and against you. The pressure was calming and soon you were also drifting off again. The last thing you remember is hoping that if you dreamed again, you would dream of being in her arms, just like this.