Yachi🖤Snow

She/her🕷Bisexuals

[pensanentz]

[cynleegeeksout]

They Never Saw Her Coming - Jhea

Part Two: His Ghost Haunts Her

One month later

Where was the creepy ticking? Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock counting seconds and minutes, turning into hours. It would’ve been more fitting to hear time passing rather than watching it disappear on a digital display. Not even a satisfying click as sixty seconds welcomed a new minute. Instead, eight in the morning had drifted into quarter to four in the afternoon, twisting the sun from east to west. No grand entrance. No welcome bells. Time had simply and quietly metamorphosed while she sat with little interest in the world around her.

Not the ocean in the distance. A place she often visited when she needed a reset. Her bare toes gripping grains of sand, wind whistling through her loose hair. Not the sounds of seagulls barely heard over the noise of traffic and pedestrians trying to coexist.

Not today.

Not when hours had disappeared and she’d been awake, eyes staring but not seeing. Existing only to fight a losing battle in her own mind and heart.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

The high back chair creaked— her weight having long been accepted for a lengthy day of silence.

Silence and silence and more silence, all while the voices, eerily familiar, kept pressuring her to open the metaphorical junk drawer where she shoved unwanted things. Lately, she’d disastrously failed to bury her despair deep in the splintered wood.

You can do it, the voice taunted. Peek inside and remember what used to be.

What? she screamed back. What was the point when her dreams and memories were now covered in jagged scars… and the scent of his cologne.

She wanted, no needed, the damn drawer shredded, covered in cement, and blipped out of existence.

Pssst, Rhea, psst.

“No,” she whispered in a growl, “please, no.”

Remember the way his hair smelled that morning?

Her fingers instinctively flexed, desperately wanting one more chance to drag her nails through the nest of silky locks. It had finally grown past his shoulders, cascading like some damn product commercial. She really hated how easy it was for him. How smug he’d been, propped in the doorway most mornings, watching her struggle through her routine. How many times had she huffed in playful annoyance? Her dark strands blowing around, frizzing uncontrollably, all while he stood there, perfect hair, shiny and disgusting.

He was such an asshole, but he was hers.

Pssst.

“No.”

Rhea… Rhea… psst. Remember the way he looked at you before he left that day? How your heart reached for him, silently begging him to stay with you? That blasted blow dryer whirred in your ears and you knew… you knew, you knew, you knew.

Remember how you let him go?

“Stop,” Rhea hissed into the cold office. “Stop.”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

He hadn’t even cleared the bedroom before she shut the dryer off, quickly placing it on the counter before calling out for him to wait.

“Miss me already?” he grinned, turning to close the distance near the foot of their bed.

“Whatever, loser.” She couldn’t even roll her eyes since he was right. “You owe me at least one proper kiss.”

His eyebrows lifted slowly, a talent he had discovered when he was younger and defying his parents. Now, Rhea always smiled, a little upturn of her lips, whenever he did it to her. “Funny how I properly had you tangled in the sheets an hour ago.”

Rhea gripped the front of his shirt, bringing him to her. He had to bend to meet her eyes. “That’s not a proper kiss. Now do it before I knee you in the nuts.”

Unwilling to tempt her, he cupped her chin with enough strength to make her breath hitch, then kissed her once, hard.

“Again.”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Open the drawer and remember.

She couldn’t do it.

She sought relief, and the silence was more comforting than the absence of her little ghost boy.

Every day, the weight was trying to push her into another meltdown, but Rhea had promised her family, her brother, that she was better. She had a purpose to focus on. However, she wasn’t expecting to wake up with shackles around her wrists and ankles, the scent of his cinnamon gum filling her senses. Instead of letting her grief hold her in place, she’d broken free… had commanded her legs to move, ordered her bare feet to carry her into the day.

One step and then two more until she was walking normally through her morning. She’d showered, styled her hair, gotten dressed. All of it with limbs moving with twenty-seven years of instinct and practice. She had tried scrambling eggs for protein, but she’d gagged so much the garbage disposal enjoyed them in her place.

Rhea gave herself credit for at least making an effort.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Her office was a gutted one bedroom apartment. Rhea had spent from her personal savings on the restoration. The city permits had been a monster of a headache, but Rhea Ripley usually got what she wanted, and this time she had. The wall between the bedroom and living room had been hollowed into an arched divider, allowing her to see the entire room, minus the bathroom. Her desk had been set up in front of the bay window, while the bedroom was transformed into a seating area with the back wall mounted with a large screen. She rarely used the stove when the microwave worked perfectly for heating up quick lunches or late dinners. The refrigerator and pantry were fully stocked, as was the small closet she kept for emergency outfits.

Rhea’s space was slowly getting furnished with better lighting and homey knick-knacks and art prints. In fact, one piece of art was a direct reminder of her ghost boy… and half of the time she wanted to stand up and turn it around. Damian had told her to leave it alone, stop fussing over shit, so she did. No matter how much it hurt her.

Pain was still feeling something, and Rhea wanted pain more than the thought of erasing everything that made her think of him. Even if that damn print, basically a glorified poster of a classic Chevy lowrider, the San Diego skyline in the distance, was tacky as all hell, he’d loved it so much it got packed with him when he’d left for college, and then when they’d moved in together. Rhea couldn’t have it in her house, haunting her, so she’d moved it to her office… a place he never had and never would step foot in, hoping it wouldn’t hurt so horrifically.

It did, and she had to stop herself from turning the print over, choosing herself over him. It was Damian’s quiet grief working in his jaw whenever he looked at it, and, deep down, her own heart barely bandaged together but trying to heal, that kept her from being bloody selfish. Besides, her ghost boy didn’t deserve it. He deserved to be in her every breath, buried in the marrow in her bones.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Outside of Rhea, only one person had the key to her office, and only four other people were allowed to be in there. Everyone else called her on her work phone, or radioed her from the line she’d personally given them access to.

Her office wasn’t a sanctuary. It was a place where she’d made the decision to end the modern day Roman Empire. Under his nose, scattered throughout his streets, she was lurking.

Brick by brick, Rhea had pulled together a ragtag group of losers, united in one singular objective, and along the way, they’d formed a family bond far stronger than the Bloodline.

That thought threatened to make her smile for the first time. Roman had no idea what she was capable of. Not yesterday. Especially not today, when she’d driven herself to work, sunglasses pulled over determined eyes, heart figuratively bleeding, leaving a trail for them to find her.

If Roman was ready, the chessboard had been set up.

Tomorrow, it would be check and mate.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

By the time she’d made it to the office, most of her bravado had leaked out of the cracked window. Her emotions ebbing and flowing more than the ocean’s waves. Her feet were still moving forward though.

Beneath her, laughter rang out over the hum of the espresso machine. She needed to have the plumbing looked at, and all of pipes replaced, since they were groaning like tired old men.

Rhea tilted her head in the chair, her finger accidentally bumping her laptop, waking up the screen. Across the room, one-by-one the city’s security cameras filled in the small boxes of the grid on the large screen.

Alert after alert. Ping, ping, ping. Normal sounds.

Now they landed like gunshots piercing her self-inflicted isolation. She flinched then arched her back to stretch her stiff muscles. Her tanned legs, exposed by her cutoff shorts, stuck uncomfortably together where she’d propped them on the desk.

“Shit,” she cursed with irritation. Her voice was scratchy from lack of use.

Next to her laptop, a half-drunk iced coffee sat abandoned, condensation dripping onto a cowprint coaster. Another reminder. Another sign she had tried.

Beep, beep, beep.

Rhea turned her gaze to the big screen on the opposite wall. Cameras one through six blinked, then blurred. Beep. Camera two popped up on the screen, zooming in on one of the Bloodline’s warehouses.

“What the…” she trailed off, sitting up a little straighter, her hand reaching for her glasses. She wasn’t operating the system like she usually did, having happily relinquished the task to someone more capable for the day.

The screen zoomed out, exposing the entire warehouse. Rhea didn’t see anything worth staring at, so she took her glasses off and began rubbing at her tired eyes.

“Knock, knock.”

Rhea groaned into her hands. “It’s open.” She cleared her throat when her voice croaked. Today wasn’t her day for dealing with business, but that damn warehouse was obviously raising alarms.

“Sorry to bother you boss, but you should see this.”

She watched as Becky Rollins stepped hesitantly into the office, her fiery hair pulled half up in an impressive knot, the rest cascading down in long waves. She smiled wide when she caught Rhea’s eyes, even though her body screamed she was nervous. Her headset was pushed around her neck, iPad clutched tightly in front of her.

“Please tell me it’s good news.”

Becky gave her head a slight jerk, her black leather combat boots squeaking on the darkwood floor. “Finn sent a ping from the south side, camera two.”

“He wasn’t given permission to be down there.” Rhea slipped her legs from the desk, stretching them in front of her. She thought about reaching for the cardigan she’d draped behind her chair, but changed her mind.

“We know, but he caught sight of the Brons and followed them to eighty-six and Dove.” Becky tapped on the tablet, bringing up a blurred image of Bron Breakker and Bronson Reed. They both had sunglasses and black zip-up windbreakers on, but there was no mistaking their identity.

“What the hell are they doing down there?”

“Exactly what Finn’s trying to figure out.”

“Damnit!” Rhea slapped her hand on the desk. “Why can’t those douchebags choose a bloody alliance?”

She was sick of their inability to align with a faction. Bron barely had four brain cells rolling around his bald dome, and Reed was a loyal dog following him around waiting for any opportunity to pounce.

There was absolutely no way they liked or respected Roman. Nope. They were too dumb to start their own business, so they leeched onto any group their Papa Heyman told them to. Rhea had watched them sniff around piles of shit for one too many days. Roman was the easiest way to make a quick transaction, but also the fastest way to get a bullet in the skull, or back, since the Tribal Chief didn’t give one bloody damn.

“Was he followed?”

Becky pressed her side into the front of the desk, her gaze still on the tablet. “He doesn’t believe so. It’s been pretty tame down there, other than the Brons making an appearance.”

Wanting the warmth, Rhea lifted her right hand above her head and yanked her cardigan into her lap. “Tell him to lay low and seek out the safe house. No personal cellphone use until tomorrow morning. And, send an alert to Hayes.” She put her glasses back on, the cardigan forgotten, too caught up in her sudden jolt of energy. “If he tries to get lippy, tell him I have his number and two favors.”

Impressed, Becky nodded and tapped out the message to one of their allies and spies. “Finn’s already gone dark, but I tracked him back toward camera one. He should be good for the night.”

“That warehouse hasn’t had a sniff since Christmas. I knew they’d circle back.”

“You think sending the Oompa Loompa’s means anything?”

Rhea mulled it over, the image of the Brons irritating her. She wanted to say no, that those guys would never be a threat, not to her or her family. However, her gut clenched, reminding her that Roman Reigns worked for himself, thought only of himself, and moved for his own personal gain. The Brons were a tool, collateral damage the T.C. would never break a sweat over.

“Yes.” Before Becky could protest, she waved her hand in front of her. “Not an immediate threat, no.”

Becky slid her index finger over the tablet, summoning camera two. Was it too quiet? “We thinking a shipment or a load relocation?"

“Shipment.” That particular building had been empty for several months. They never moved in a pattern.

Someone spearheading the Bloodline’s operations was tactically brilliant. Rhea had spent years memorizing dead end plays, hoping she’d solve the equation.

Nothing. Always outsmarted, just shy of getting the jump on them. If they didn’t work in a distinct manner, she had to think smarter… learn everything she could about them before stepping right into their path, and accidentally making herself and her family vulnerable to exposure and possible expulsion.

“Was that it?” Rhea asked when Becky only nodded in agreement, her demeanor rapidly changing, her fingers growing sickly pale looking around the tablet.

Becky shifted on her feet, her eyes meeting Rhea’s. “Look, boss…” She pushed the tablet into her chest, feeling a mixture of bravery and shits-in-her-pants. “We’ve all seen the calendar. The blokes ain’t got the balls to say anything, but I do.” Across from her, Rhea winced, her eyes misting over before she could hide it from her. “Are you okay?”

Rhea’s tongue poked the inside of her cheek, her throat filling with bile. She wasn’t expecting that question. News of Roman terrorizing the city? Yes.

Pssst.

All it would take was one simple turn of the key and the drawer would come flying open.

“I tried calling his parents,” she answered, voice thick. “That bloody green call button felt like a trap.”

“Twenty-seven?”

“Yeah.” Rhea blinked at her desk, more bile made its way into her esophagus. She swallowed it down, along with the key. “I’ve talked to them so many times, but I can’t get over myself enough to do it today.”

Becky turned her gaze to the window, quietly offering her friend a moment to pull herself together. She understood, she herself hated crying in front of anyone that wasn’t her husband. Rhea, on the other hand, was an anomaly. She spat at the thought of showing any vulnerability, and yet when she did, she owned it and carried it like a warrior.

“I can only imagine whatever you’re feeling is even worse for them.”

“I know.”

“It’s also alright if you need to push them away for a while.” Becky sat the tablet down on Rhea’s desk, daring to lean over and rub her hand over her boss’s. “For what it’s worth. You’re stronger than all of us combined, and that’s me admitting it.”

Rhea sniffled, a hint of a smile flashing across her lips. As much as she appreciated the compliment, it was hollow words passing through a gaping heart. She was too broken to absorb them.

“Want me to send them a message on your behalf?”

Rhea shook her head. “They’re good people. I won’t do that to them.” She flipped her hand over, squeezing once, allowing herself a second to be an open wound. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Becky stayed still until Rhea bobbed her head, then pulled her hand away. “Was the coffee too experimental?"

“What?” Rhea asked, confused.

Becky pointed to the sad state of Rhea’s iced coffee, a knowing smirk twitching at her mouth.

“No… nothing’s tasted good today.” Sheepishly, she poked her pointer finger on the lid. “Don’t tell him.”

“He’ll understand.”

“Please.”

She waited until Rhea looked up at her, then winked.

Her husband wouldn’t be offended. Well, not too much once his ego calmed down, but it was better to let him believe Rhea had enjoyed the coffee. “So,” she said in an effort to change the subject again. “Are you still going through with tonight’s plan?”

Rhea’s gaze moved back to the coffee, her black and nude nails, then to her trusted assistant-slash-tech wizard. “Yes.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I need the distraction.” Leave it to Becky to pull off looking both begrudged and proud. “I’ll be fine. You know I wouldn’t go out there and jeopardize myself or everything we’ve been working toward.”

Becky huffed. “We trust you, and that’s why I’ve already told that wombat Waller to change out the plates and registration information.”

Rhea felt her lips lift. Not enough for Becky to clock, but it didn’t matter when some life was gently stirring in her again. “Have Theory bring ‘round that rust bucket Corolla, and have my Benz covered.”

“Done and done.” Becky laughed, one short burst. “I took great pleasure in telling him to stop taking selfies with it to use as his Tinder profile picture.”

“You’re shitting me?” Her mouth opened in disgust. Even more when Becky’s eyes widened in faux horror. “That arse is lucky he’s useful.” He was also lucky that Rhea was too busy to hack into the app and make him go on a blind date with her. He’d piss his pants, and still be responsible for buying her dinner. To-go.

On the desk, the tablet lit up, followed by three alert tones. Becky reached for it, her nerves spiking at the first message.

RHM spotted. Cam 5. 4:26. Alone. Not armed.

“What is it?” Rhea asked, holding her hand out for the device.

“Tonight’s plan.”

Rhea snatched the iPad, her hand shaky as she read the message, then clicked open the first JPEG file.

It wasn’t blurry like the earlier picture of the Brons.

No.

Bronzed skin and arms covered in tattoos were amazingly clear. Without thinking, she used her index and middle fingers to zoom in, carefully noting the fit of his gray shirt, similar to the one he was wearing before. A black beanie sat close to his head, pulled down slightly over his brows, the sides hid the tops of his ears, leaving his diamond stud earrings with an attached chain blindingly visible. Black jeans hung low on his waist, a matching black belt peeked out from the hem of his shirt.

She opened the second JPEG file, noting the same Escalade Naomi had been driving. Rhea zoomed in, tracing the shape of his legs, his feet snug in black and white Adidas sneakers. His face was shamefully blurred from the motion of him exiting the driver’s seat.

“He appear out of bloody nowhere?”

“Seems so.”

“He’s good. I’ll give him that.” Rhea pursed her lips in thought. Jey Uso didn’t outwardly shout DANGER, not like some of the men she’d faced over the years.

“He’s charming.”

“He’s personable."

“He’s smart.”

“He’s lethal when his family is the target.”

Rhea scanned the first file again. Whatever captured his attention had made the lines around his eyes crease in an endearing way. He didn’t look like a threat, and that’s why she’d been warned to never give him the opportunity to shoot her in the back.

“Have Priest drive by Julien and make sure it’s clear.”

Not for the first time, apprehension threatened to overstep Becky’s bounds as Rhea’s assistant. “Boss, are you sure about this?”

She always did her best to be the role model. Rhea was younger than most of her family, but she had risen as the decision maker. She was committed, now more than ever, to rip the Bloodline apart. “I want them to believe Julien is where I live.” She wanted them to follow her, stake her out, get excited to have a reason to breathe outside of Roman’s stranglehold.

And then she would strike.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Jey paused outside of Appy Ar to drag in a breath. It was still too early for a large crowd, but Appy’s was always occupied. Anyone hanging out this far into the underbelly needed a drink— a friend— an escape.

Tilting his head back, he stared up at the evening sky.

Only a few streaks of light held on to the last seconds of daytime. It wasn’t often he got the chance to see the sunset. Tonight had made him yearn, deep in his chest, for the memory of Samoa’s sands and his mama’s insistence he eat his entire plate. Florida beaches could never replace the times his parents had shown him the island of his people, the ways of his culture.

His heart longed for it, and as the sun had scattered an array of pinks and oranges, he’d watched day transition into night from the Escalade, windows down, the sounds of his childhood whirring in his ears.

Now, storm clouds had begun to roll in, following him as a visual representation of his damn life. Dark and heavy, hovering ominously for their chance to bully everyone below. The late sun had burned through some of the humidity, but it still hung thick in the air.

Jey scrunched his nose as the pungent smell of rotting garbage stunk up the walkway. Someone down here forgot trash day wasn’t a suggestion. If he found out who it was— nah. He couldn’t strangle someone over trash that smelt like asscheeks and sour milk. Not when he was determined to find her. His mystery girl with the long legs and sultry voice.

She’d been tormenting his dreams.

He didn’t want to address why he’d been tweaking like some damn addict all afternoon. It for sure wasn’t about some goddess of a woman trying to insert herself in his life. For twenty-nine days, Jey hadn’t been able to shake the scent of wild gardenias mixed with nicotine and tobacco. Nor the way her mouth had looked smoking that cigarette.

Damn it all to hell and back to earth.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Appy Ar welcomed him with the pulsing beats of “Chief Boot Knocka” by Sir Mix-a-Lot. Immediately, he felt at home in the congested environment.

The bar stools were occupied, some of the regulars had already settled in. Against the back walk, a few retired construction workers raised their glasses at him. None of them bothered by the thirty year-old wallpaper flaking on the ground by their feet.

He bopped his head in acknowledgment. If he wandered too close to their table he’d never leave. They talked too damn much about shit Jey wasn’t interested in. Plus, he didn’t think they’d be impressed hearing how his cousin had “made an example” out of him in front of his brothers last week.

The cool dude that danced on top of bars and bragged about his gym reps was actually a pussy, too settled in his life to leave it. Why would they care about him? He wasn’t worth investing a single penny in.

“What’s your poison?”

Jey grinned at the lone man behind the bar. “Whatever y’all got in a bottle.” Hell to the naw was he drinking anything on tap when he had to drive.

One of the last times he’d done that, he was seeing triple and Solo had to hoist his drunk ass over his shoulder. Matter of fact, his memories still had suspicious holes in it.

While he waited, he discreetly scanned the room, avoiding eye contact with the burly man with an impressive scowl on his face, a line of dirty shot glasses in front of him.

“What crawled up his ass?” Jey asked, not expecting anyone to answer.

“Got rejected by the chick playin’ darts.”

Jey raised his brows at Tony, the only bartender younger than him. He hated seeing a good dude have to bust his ass down here just to survive. “That’ll do it.”

“I think what did it was her handing him a five. A buck for every second he wasted her time.”

He whistled. “Damn. That’s tough”

Tony smiled in sympathy. “She’s a looker, man, if you wanna shoot your shot.”

Jey’s face flushed. “My bad luck breaking news down in this shithole?” He winced at Tony’s shrug. “For real? I told y’all not to listen to my brothers.”

“Uh huh.”

“Damn.” He shoved a twenty in the tip jar, then slid a hundred to Tony when he handed over his beer. “Your girl have the baby yet?”

Tony stared down at the folded bill in his hand. “Any day now.”

He took a long pull from the bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Then save that for diapers or shit.”

“Thanks, man. I…”

“Jus’ do right by your family.” With that, Jey lifted the bottle in thanks and made his way to the old jukebox across the room. Above it a broken dartboard hung on the stained wall. Tiny dart holes punctured chipped paint like his childhood Lite-Brite.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

“You ever get that shot of whiskey, sweetheart?”

Rhea kept her eyes on the wall, the last of her darts gripped tightly in her fingers. “Took you long enough, sugar.”

Behind her, Jey raised the bottle to his lips for another sip, again wiping his mouth with his hand.

Damn she was pretty, even her backside— covered in loose jeans and a black and white flannel tied around her waist— looked good.

“Think I didn’t see you the second I walked in here?”

Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. “Like I said.” She glanced over her shoulder, standing tall when the full weight of his brown eyes hit her. “Took you long enough.”

Air rushed from his nose. Gotdamn. “Can’t a man get a beer first?”

“If that’s how he chooses to prioritize his evening.” Rhea turned back to the dartboard and flicked her wrist. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath when the dart stuck in the wall.

Jey chuckled, stepping right up to her. “Need some help, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You look good.”

Rhea spun around. “What?”

He used his bottle to point at her. “You look real good, honey.”

Heat flared unexpectedly under her lace bra. “Did you doubt it, love?”

Jey was fast with the banter, and if Rhea stood any chance in hell, she would have to be faster. He’s charming. Be careful. She’d been warned numerous times by people who had firsthand experience with Roman’s RHM. Please, be careful.

Instead of answering, he openly checked her out, congratulating himself when her breath skipped.

She was wearing a thick strapped cropped black tank top that left her midriff exposed. Jey had to school his features when he noticed ink peeking out from where the flannel was knotted. His eyes paused over the hint of rounded cleavage adorned with the same necklaces as before. Her skin looked soft enough to touch.

Shit. Get a grip, man.

The only grip Jey wanted was to bury his nose in the place where her neck and shoulder met, feel his way up to her pierced ears, kiss along her sharp jaw… right to her plump mouth.

Rhea cleared her throat. “You ever seen a woman before?”

“Ha, ha.” Jey gulped down half of the bottle of beer. “Never seen a woman like you is all.”

She snorted, so unladylike, yet somehow fitting for the goddess standing in front of him. He smirked at her unimpressed scowl.

Yeah, princess, let me under your skin.

Even though she was wearing a black snapback pulled down low, her features were making the beer fizz in his gut. “You ever get that shot of whiskey?” Jey asked again, since she didn’t answer him the first time.

Rhea’s lips twitched at the corner. He was persistent. “Decided to wait for the right time.”

“Yea’?” Shrugging, he downed the rest of his beer and set in on the empty table behind him. Her blue eyes burned a trail up the side of his neck. Did she like what she saw? He wouldn’t blame her either way. “Ever play ‘round the clock?”

Her forehead pinched in confusion. “What’s that?”

Jey laughed. “I’ll take that as a no then.” Moving past her, he yanked the darts out of the board and wall, chuckling again at how awful her last shot had been. “Gotta hit every number in order. Start with one, then move around the board until you hit twenty.”

She stepped aside when he motioned for her to let him stand where she’d been. “I was just throwing darts hoping one would be a bullseye.”

“First mistake.” He shrugged, ignoring the heat radiating down his right arm. She was close, her presence threatening to consume him. “We each get three darts and three shots in a round.”

“Then what?”

Jey rolled his shoulders, shook his right arm out, and tossed his first dart at the target. “One.”

Rhea crossed her arms, her eyes squinting even though she had her contacts in. “Wow,” she said with zero inflection. “Don’t hurt those biceps of yours.”

He smiled, every damn tooth on display. “You thirsty for my arms, baby?”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Against her will and better judgment, Rhea got into the game. Huffing in genuine irritation when he made it to fourteen before she had five.

She’d stomped her foot once, but he seemed to like that— and she was on the fence with how much to give him. This man had been looking at her funny, a toss between lusting and finding her “adorable” whenever she failed to earn a point.

Her Vans nearly made contact with the back of his knee when he’d called her that.

“Nineteen.” Jey pumped his fist, grinning as she fake congratulated him. “Not my fault you’re terrible at this.”

“Whatever, love.” Rhea was beyond pissed. Her back was damp with sweat from the crappy ventilation in the bar. She wanted a smoke and a reason to slap the smug look off of his problematic face.

“I offered to help ya.” He shrugged, before lining up his last shot. “Jus’ gotta keep your eye on the target, princess.” Jey pulled his wrist back and let the dart go.

Twenty.

She stomped her foot.

“I win.”

He bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes locked with hers. Who are you? He wanted to ask… but he didn’t want to hear lies. Not from someone so damn captivating.

Rhea looked away first, letting him have his small victory. She still had a dart in her hand, so she launched it, satisfied when it landed on the board.

Jey’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. Sighing, he quietly closed the gap between them. He hesitated just a half second before leaning into her side, his arm brushing hers. His mystery girl’s mouth opened wide enough to rattle out an expletive. He leaned in even more, his own mouth struggling to contain how close to the edge he was.

Who are you?

She stiffened, but didn’t pull away from him.

His phone buzzed again. Jey ignored it in order to ghost his nose over the back of her neck.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Seeing if you smell like I remember.”

Rhea turned abruptly, their chests practically touching with the motion. “And?”

He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet scent from his dreams. “Maybe you’ll see me around.”

“What?” she mouthed, her heart one-two punching as he backed away, a knowing smirk lighting up his face.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Outside, the obnoxious stench of trash assaulted his nose, killing whatever buzz the beer had tried giving him. “Someone out here stank like booty cheeks and ball sweat,” Jey muttered, covering his face with his hands. “Take a damn shower and pull your damn cans out every damn Wednesday, dawgs.”

Down the street, headlights flashed one, four, then two times. Jimmy’s signal. He lifted his right hand up. “Uhh.” Damn it smelled funky. Jey almost felt bad his mystery girl was going to suffer the same misfortune.

Flashing lights. One, four, two.

Jimmy repeated the pattern until Jey reached the driver’s side door of their souped up Tahoe.

“What funny business was that, assholes?” He sneered at his idiot brothers. Jimmy had the nerve to shrug innocently. “Ya’ll can blind me all you damn want, but imma still knock your heads together and steal yo money."

Solo snickered from the passenger seat.

“Real funny.” Jey shoved his hand through the window, flipping his little brother off.

“Blink if you need help.”

Jey flicked Jimmy on the forehead. “I’m blinking ‘cause you jerks can’t take nothin’ serious.”

Jimmy lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror, sharing a look with Sami. “We’re being serious, man. You need to lighten up once in a while. ‘Sides…” He stretched his hand behind him for Sami’s phone. “We got what we needed.”

“You sure?” Jey peeked behind him, double-checking they had privacy. “Any damage done?”

“Nah.”

Sami gripped the backs of the front seats and pulled his torso between the brothers. “I did it, man. No prints. No one else in the area. Kept my hood up and head down.”

“Good.” Jey accepted the phone, thankful Jimmy already had the pictures pulled up. “What we kno’?”

“Car’s registered to a Rhea Ripley. Everything tracked, man. No record. Twenty-seven. She’s from Australia, but moved here when she was a teenager. Graduated from St. Joesph’s. Played soccer and volleyball in college. Average grades. Degree in Communication.”

Jey scrolled through the images, pausing at an older passport photo. Her hair was shorter, but there was no mistaking her blue eyes and cocky smirk. “What’s she doing in the States?”

“No clue.” Jimmy craned his neck to see which one had caught his twin’s attention. “Of course."

“What?”

“You gotta keep the drool to a minimum.”

Jey rolled his eyes. Later, he’d make sure to remind his big brother how many days his ass was parked on the couch. Sis had blown a fuse after pulling up and seeing Jim letting another woman touch him, without a fight.

Humming low to himself, he traced his thumb over the screen. His mystery girl had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen in person. No wonder… “Rhea, huh? She really is a damn goddess.”

Solo leaned over the center console, making sure to shoulder Sami playfully. “What you on ‘bout?”

“Rhea, the mother of the gods.” He let out an amused huff. It figured, out of the group, he’d have an immortal beauty land in his path.

“You pull that info from your ass?”

Sami dipped his head down, unable to stop his face from doing something that would piss Jey off.

“It’s called readin’ grown folk books.”

“Ooooh.” Jimmy looked around the car. “Can you believe this foo’? Thinks he’s betta than us ‘cause he sips coffee and reads for fun.”

“I like sipping coffee.” Sami admitted.

“And that’s why we’re your only friends.”

Sami slapped the back of Solo’s head, making Jey and Jimmy both crack identical grins.

Jey waited until they quieted down, then passed Sami’s phone back to him. “Send me everythin’ you got.” Tapping his hands on the car, he blew out a heavy breath. “Somethin’ fishy is goin’ on.”

“‘Fraid so.” Jimmy quietly agreed, extending his fist for Jey to bump. “Stay safe out there, little brother. I kno’ Julien isn’t the worst part of town, but play it as discreetly as possible.”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Rhea pulled into the short driveway, her heart thumping against her ribs. She hadn’t been to this location in months, choosing to stay in the two-story house his parents had gifted them further in the suburbs. Her Julien home didn’t look like much on the outside. One story, two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen and a laughable backyard. It was hers, though, earned with her own money.

It kept her secrets safe, and now it would be her residence until she finished the job she’d started.

Killing the engine, she flipped the headlights off and stepped out of the creaky old car. “You did good, LuLu.” Manually locking the door, she pushed it closed and made her way up the walkway, the front porch light clicking on once it sensed her. She finger waved at the hidden camera, knowing Becky and Damian would both be checking to see she’d made it safely.

Once in the house, she kicked her shoes off, and looked around the familiar space.

Remember?

A photo of them was stuck to the fridge with a tacky California souvenir magnet. Senior Prom. His arms wrapped around her from behind.

She’d been so damn happy.

Sniffling as a wave of anguish hit her like a tsunami, she dug her pack of cigarettes and lighter out of her pocket. “You bastard,” she whispered. “You bloody bastard.”

Psst, Rhea, psst.

Car lights flashed in her living room window, alerting her someone had turned onto her street. Rhea knew it was Jey. She knew he’d take the bait. Wiping her nose with her fingers, she walked to the front window, tilting the blinds just enough to let the moonlight shine in.

Her legs protested sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. Working her thumb over the igniter, she lit a much needed cigarette, the first puff soothing some of the tears from her throat. She pulled in another lungful, letting it sit in her mouth before tilting her head up and releasing the smoke.

With her free hand, she untied the flannel from her waist. His. She’d stolen it years ago. Forgive me.

Their prom picture called to her, but she couldn’t remember that day. Not now. Instead, she unlocked her phone and went to the only saved voicemail she had left. Why didn’t she think to save them all?

His voice.

Her little ghost boy haunted her every hour.

“Mamacita, you’re torturing me here. Answer your damn phone. Can’t just show up to mis padres anniversary party dressed like that and then waltz out after dessert. Mami, answer the phone. I’m dying here. This is cruel. I’m trapped with my cousins, and my abuelito won’t stop pestering me about you. Damn, mami, I’d be jealous if I knew you didn’t go for fossils— Ouch. Shit, man, sorry! Geez, that old fart has a strong grip. Okay, fine. Be mean, you tease. Te amo.”

Rhea let out a loud sob, ashes flicking onto the floor. “Feliz cumpleaños mi amor.”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Rain began to drizzle, softly hitting the windshield of the Escalade. Jey tugged on his Nike hoodie, then adjusted his seat back enough to comfortably stretch his legs. He was prepared to watch her house all night, only one question on his mind: Rhea Ripley, who are you?

🔗 Part One | Part Three (soon…)

Do you ever read fics and picture them as scenes in a movie? That’s what I do, and how I write. Everything is incredibly cinematic, including specific songs being used. THIS one was all I could listen to while the last part of the chapter unfolded ..𓂃 ִֶ𓏲ּ𝄢ִֶָ

[plaidpajamallama]

Paparazzi shot: Jhea

Summary: Rhea and Jey have a cute little breakfast.

Warning: None.

AN: Rhea’s ig post got me a little inspired 🤭 if that chocolate bread thing had a name let me know b/c I couldn’t find one ________________________________________________

“Stop!”

Rhea reached out and slapped his hand down that was holding his phone. Jey’s face turned with disappointment. “What? You look cute, I can’t help it.”

Jey argued, settling his phone back on the table from where he had grabbed it when he couldn’t help himself while she took a drink of her coffee.

“Well, help it.” She went to take another sip but stopped, the blue glass cup clinking against the matching saucer. Grabbing a strawberry slice instead. “It’s too early for your cute bullshit.”

“Yo’ think I’m cute?” The Uso looked at her with his big brown eyes and small grin; golden grillz peeked out from behind his full lips as he leaned back in his chair.

“You’re ridiculous. I don’t even have any makeup on.”

“Don’t need it, you're fucking gorgeous, Mama, like this bread and chocolate. Beautiful and delicious.”

“Am I a lucky charm now?” She laughed.

“I mean-“ Jey sat back up, cutting another bite off their sweet breakfast. “I ain’t never won a match with you gone so I guess, yeah.” He spooned the bread into his mouth.

As Jey quietly moaned at the rich chocolate taste in his mouth, Rhea stealthily slid her phone off the table; she thought it was about time for a little payback for all the time Jey had taken a picture of her without her knowledge.

“This shit’s so fucking good, ugh, I don’t even want to leave Europe, they got some good ass food.”

He scooped more into his mouth, adding a bit of fresh blueberries on top. None the wiser, Rhea lifted her phone from behind the box of napkins, catching her boyfriend in the act of shoving food in his face.

*snap*

Jey’s beard had drops of chocolate and the glimmer of fruit juice in the gray hairs. His eyes closed like it was the best-tasting thing ever, the lips she loved so much to stare at were tugged into a smile, while his mouth was closed around the metal fork.

The still image couldn’t capture the sound he was making, but her ears heard it, and it was making her want to pay the bill and go back to their hotel.

“You're right, you're very cute.”

Jey’s eyes shot open, and were looking towards her as she waved her phone with the picture she just took in front of his face.

“You better not post that shit.” He pointed his fork at her, mouth still full of chocolate-covered bread. “Or what?”

A smirk spread across her face as she pulled her hand back, leaving him grasping the air.

“Or I’ll go into my folder.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, confusedly, “What folder?”

Jey had a matching smirk before he wiped it off along with the chocolate, then picked his phone back up.

Rhea watched his fingers move with familiarity. Oh this couldn’t be good.

Once Jey flipped his phone around, all she saw was herself. Pictures of her asleep -not in a cute way, in a drooling mess kind of way- struggling to get out of the pool, brushing her teeth, chasing after Barry. All the normal, quite unsexy things she did in life, and he had a whole folder full of them.

“Why do you have-” her gaze flickered up to the number in the top corner, “almost a fucking thousand pictures of me looking like bloody shit!”

She laughed at the absurdity of this folder, noticing a new picture of herself every time she looked at it.

“You look cute in all of these, Mama. What are you talkin’ ‘bout?

“Maybe in your eyes with your rose-tinted glasses on.”

“My eyes are the only ones that matter; no matter what kind of glasses I got on, you're always beautiful.”

Jey lifted his coffee cup to his lips, looking at his girlfriend above the rim with a loving gaze on the warm streets of Italy, sharing some breakfast and acting like tourists on their very rare day off.

“You're such a bloody lover boy,” She giggled, feeling her cheeks get slightly warmer. “We must have been insufferable on Raw together.”

“Oh, a hundred percent,” He took another sip from his mug. “Just wait till next week when I pop up on SmackDown and win that tournament, then I’m gonna be insufferable.” He flashed a cocky grin, grillz winking at her from the sun. “Can’t wait to see you in that crown, Baby your gonna look sexy as fuck.” Rhea bit the tip of her pointer finger, making him laugh.

“It’s just a shame you won’t be my queen.”

“I can be your champion tho- until you beat Cody, I mean. She added. She could imagine Jey already with the crown on his head and the title around his waist. It would be an amazing sight, especially with all the noise that came from him being in the tournament in the first place.

“We’ll really be insufferable then.” He chuckled, knowing how hated they would be if that happened.

“They’ll get over it or they won’t. And they’ll be looking up at the sparkling lights with their champions standing over them.”

Jey lifted his cup, urging Rhea to pick hers too, the glass making a distinct clinking sound.

“To the soon-to-be king of the ring.”

“Cheers to that, Mama.”

________________________________________________

It feels like I haven’t wrote a Jhea fic with zero connection in sooooo long! 🖤

[cynleegeeksout]

“Can we edit that out?” - A Jhea Fic

This is Hot Ones Versus. In front of these contestants is a stack of deeply personal questions. They can either tell the truth or suffer the wrath of the last dab.

Whoever eats the most wings loses…

“Starting in three, two, one, action!”

With the ease and practice of years of media training, and being on weekly live television, she rolled her shoulders back, friendly smile in place. “Hi, I’m WWE Superstar Rhea ‘bloody’ Ripley, and the man in front of me is about to be brutalized by a plate of wings.”

Jey scoffed, his eyes squinting behind his sunglasses. “Don’t already be playin’ in my face, sweetheart.”

“You gonna introduce yourself, cupcake?” Rhea folded her arms in front of her, a smirk threatening to give away how unserious she was being.

“Naw. I’ll let you do the honor.”

“Okay.” Lifting her left arm, she tapped her index finger on her chin, her engagement and wedding rings sparkling beautifully under the studio lights.

Jey often told her she purposely flashed her rings whenever she could. So what if she did? Her man had done real good picking them out, and she wanted the world to know that she’d traded up, shaken off the dead weight that’d been dragging her down.

Now, Jey’s rings fit proudly around her finger, a symbol that her heart was tucked safely inside his.

She could smile, or cry, just thinking about it.

Instead, Rhea half turned in her seat so she was facing the camera. “This, ladies and gentleman, is WWE Superstar, the man we all call ‘Main Event’ Jey Uso, but I lovingly refer to him as the pain in my ass.”

He grinned, stretching his legs out under the table, the toe of his shoe bumping hers. “In, on, around, over, undah. As long as I’m near tha’ ass, I’m good.”

Rhea covered her mouth, hiding the grin and the faint blush tinting her cheeks. “Flattery will not save you from the brutality, peaches.”

“Wanna bet?”

Her right brow arched. “What’re we wagering?”

“Two hours, no questions.”

“Deal.”

Jey squirmed in his seat, his temperature rising. Across from him, his wife pierced him with her glare, expression challenging. Never one to back down, he slipped his sunglasses off and winked. Her lips twitched, and that was the confirmation he needed.

Two hours. No questions. Hell yeah.

Rhea watched as he adjusted his shades behind his head, his black shirt pulling and stretching in all the correct ways. His biceps flexed, tanned skin and tattoos daring her to leap across the table.

Discreetly, she cleared her throat. “You choose first.”

Suddenly nervous, he shot her a look before picking up the first card, then sighed in relief. “Easy.” He leaned back. “Since you both work and travel together, name one thing you do to keep from growing tired of each other.”

“Who says I don’t grow tired of you?”

Jey rolled his eyes. “Please. I barely leave the room and here you come right behind me.”

Rhea pursed her lips in thought, purposely delaying answering the question. Let him sweat it out.

Jey tipped his head back, perfectly at ease.

“Whatever,” she conceded. “Outside of talking out our shit, we cook.”

“Don’t forget the naked part.”

She sputtered in surprise. “The hell we do!”

“Damn near then.”

“Underwear is not naked, peaches.” Rhea gripped the table, shaking her head at him. “Here you go again making the world think I’m the exhibitionist, when you’re the one that would wrestle nude on live T.V.”

He grunted. “I’d wrestle you in the nude on live T.V.”

Heat crept up the back of her neck. Damn the higher neckline on her tank top. It was damn near suffocating.

“See,” Jey said, eyes twinkling. “You’re thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

She glared at him, heart thumping questionably underneath her skin. “You bloody, arse.” Rhea couldn’t go one day, or one event, without her crazy man making horny remarks. It was no wonder they’d gotten dubbed “freaks” and “sex addicts” by the dirt sheets.

Okay. The last one always made her laugh.

It was kind of true, but only after she’d agreed to be his girl. Jey was too smooth with his words, and his body made her want to do things she’d never thought about before. Could the world and dirt sheets honestly blame her? Hello? She thought not.

Two hours, no questions.

Rhea shifted in her seat. She didn’t dare look him in the eyes. “I hate you,” she whisper-yelled knowing full well he was eating up her predicament.

He bit into his bottom lip, gaze not missing one inch of her discomfort. Oh, hell yeah. “She’s right, tho’.” Jey pulled his eyes away from her to look into the camera. “We like findin’ recipes and tryin’ them at home.”

“The ones from around the world are our favorites.”

“Gotta shout out our sis, Naomi. She’s the one that bought us a recipe box for our anniversary.”

Rhea lifted her hands into the shape of a heart. “Love you, Nai!” She’d already had a small recipe book from her nonna that she treasured, but Naomi’s gift had kickstarted a new hobby both Rhea and Jey enjoyed.

Her husband was a terrific cook, everyone knew that. He loved bragging about it. He also loved cooking her Samoan food, quietly watching for her reactions.

Rhea knew it was an honor. Jey inviting her into his family and sharing his traditions with her wasn’t something she took lightly. She wanted to know every facet of him, and vice versa. Rhea made it her mission, when they were in Australia for work, to give him the full Aussie experience. Even if he didn’t understand or like some of it, he still got to witness and participate in her home and what called to her living so far away.

As they’d grown closer and started traveling together, their friends had labeled them “foodies” and Rhea loved it. She loved him and food and collecting random shit from around the world. In their living room, she had a scrapbook of photographs of her and Jey, and sometimes their friends if they were all together, along with paper napkins and miscellaneous items. Each was a reminder of a new phase in her life. One with genuine friendships and the love of her person.

Cooking and recipe finding had become more than just eating to survive. It was a chance to be herself.

How could she grow tired of Jey?

He was the man that sang to her when she was consumed with anxiety, on the brink of another debilitating panic attack. Her other half. The cheesy missing piece in her life. He was the man that said “eff it” and did ridiculous dances in the middle of a crowd just to make her smile. He was her cool breeze on a warm day, and she loved spending her work days and her free days with him, no matter how sickening they seemed to outsiders.

“Man, I’m still cravin’ the balanzoni we had in Bologna.”

Rhea’s mouth watered. She’d nearly licked her plate, right there on the narrow patio, sunset picturesque behind them. “Don’t even remind me.” She swiped her finger over her lips, checking for drool. “If anyone has an authentic recipe, please send it to us.”

Across from her, Jey nodded in agreement. She tapped her long nails on the stack before snatching the top card. No-brainer, she thought cockily. “If it came down to rescuing your twin brother or your wife, who would you save first?”

Jey didn’t even blink, he just lurched forward, fumbled around for a wing and shoved half of it into his mouth. Regret was instantaneous.

“You’re shitting me right now?” Rhea stared, offended, as he coughed around the large chunk of chicken. She would’ve kicked him if she didn’t think he’d start choking. “You bloody bastard. There’s no way you’d choose Jim over me.”

Jey swallowed, then immediately hacked around the heat tickling the back of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear leaking out. “Holy shit. Y’all sprinkle all of these wit’ ghost peppa dust or somethin’?”

Rhea snorted, unable to stop herself. “It can’t be that bad.”

Another tear plopped onto his cheek. “Damn that shit’s already gettin’ to me.” And because his body was keen on betraying him, he sniffled loudly enough for the microphones to pick up without issue. “For real, baby. That stuff is wack.”

She snorted again, waving her hand in front of her. “And Jim’s never finding out about this episode. He’ll never let me live down the audacity of you opting out of answering.”

He nodded, reaching for the glass of milk next to him. “C’mon, hon. I ain’t know the context. Maybe there’s water, but you both know how to swim, so…”

“How’s this for context?” She wiggled her hand between them, and one by one lowered every finger but the middle one. “You’re welcome.”

Jey knew exactly what possessed him. That snappy, sarcastic, tone of hers always, loudly repeated, always had the reverse effect on him.

Lifting out of his seat, he ignored her shocked gasp, and sucked that daring finger right between his lips. “Mmm,” he hummed, placing his hands flat on the table to sturdy himself.

“Babe,” she squeaked, her face rapidly moving through shades of pink to magenta.

“Cut!”

Both Jey and Rhea froze, her middle finger in his mouth. She rubbed at her chest with her free hand, eyes widening, but still staring intensely into his.

“Guys, if we want any footage to air, we need to lower the rating back to acceptable.”

“Sorry,” Jey said around her finger, his own slobber dripping into his beard. Still, he didn't budge.

Rhea turned her hand over, her other fingers uncurling under his chin. “Does this cut into our two hours?”

His nostrils flared at the suggestion. “Hell no.” He tipped his head back, letting his teeth nip into her flesh.

Her eyes hungrily followed the trail of saliva left behind. “Good to know,” she whispered low enough no one else on set could hear.

“Take a second to cool off and then we’ll roll,” one of the producers called out, yanking Jey from his trance.

“Yeah, sure thing.” He stole one final heated look with his wife before parking his ass back in the chair. His body was on fire thanks to her, not the damn wing.

Rhea wiped her finger on her black jeans, her thigh absorbing the dampness. “Shit,” she said under her breath. How did she always end up in this situation?

The answer to her question tugged on the front of his shirt, his face flushed. To anyone else, Jey seemed agitated by the warmth from the lights and filming equipment. Rhea knew better.

“You got a little dribble in your beard, cupcake.”

“Huh?”

She rolled her eyes inwardly, charmed by her cornball mate. “Your beard? Drool?” Pointing at her face, she rubbed at her chin.

Jey blushed, reaching up to wipe across the scratchy hairs. He pulled his hand away, silently asking if he’d gotten it all.

Rhea smiled fondly. “Here. Lean forward, love.” When he did what she asked, she used the sleeve of her brown cardigan to dab at the gleaming remnants. “There.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, embarrassed he’d made a fool out of himself on the set of a popular show.

She understood him too well, knew he was close to working himself into a pity party. Rhea craned her neck to steal a quick kiss. “Love you, sexy man.”

“You better.”

They didn’t realize the crew had quietly counted down to action again, the camera rolling as the tender moment was captured for the world to see.

———————————(っ˘ڡ˘ς)-———————————

Rhea grumbled around a bite of the spicy wing, miffed that Jey wouldn’t give her an out for incorrectly guessing when their first date was. “I still don’t see how I’m eating this, like a bloody champ by the way.” A bit of chicken flew out her mouth onto the table. She glared at it.

Jey waved the card around. “I’m the one wit’ the hurt feelin’s. Can’t believe you don’t know when our first date was.”

She chomped down on the rest of the wing. “You picked the first hang out that wasn’t even labeled a date and called it our first date. How was I supposed to know?”

Bristling, he tossed the card onto the table. “It felt like a date to me. After all that damn time, you finally wanted to hang out. I dunno. It felt special.”

So help her… she melted. Like ice cream on a humid day, sweet liquidy goop. She disgusted herself.

“Peaches.” Ugh. Rhea wanted to kiss his pouty lips. “It was special. It was the literal beginning of this.” She pointed between them. Ugh. Shit. Crap. All of it.

Maybe he was right.

Cheeseburgers and fries, two blocks from the hotel most of the Raw roster had been staying at, ended in the first time he’d held her hand. Rhea had been scared, but with Jey it was easy. His hand brushing hers, his pinky finger locking around her sweaty one.

That day was vivid in her memories. From the scent of his amber cologne, his beard freshly trimmed. She knew it was because she’d paid so much attention to every detail of his face, when he appeared at her door, the first words out of her mouth were “you look good.”

Thankfully, they’d both turned a darker shade and he’d smiled, the right side of his mouth slanting higher. All evening, her heart had wedged itself into her throat, and yet it was natural flipping her hand… palm up… waiting for him to make the next move.

He had.

“You look good,” Jey echoed her memory, eyes locking onto the sliver of shoulder peeking out from her cardigan. She was effortlessly beautiful to him. “Real good, damn.”

Rhea’s chin lowered toward her chest, her blood simmering below the surface. “So you’ve said.”

“So… would you say that’s our first date?”

“Yes.”

Jey’s brows lifted in question. “For real?”

She nodded. It was hard for her to let go of control, to not have a plan for everything in her life. Just because they never used the word “date” didn’t mean it wasn’t, and Jey had always been ten steps ahead of her when it came to their relationship. If he said it was technically their first date, it was.

Smiling faintly, he snatched another card, both hands gripping it with enough force to tear through the strong material. “Name each other’s favorite entrance.”

“Backlash, in France.”

“Too easy,” he accused, smirking.

She crossed her legs under the table, her right hand coming up to rub at her chest. “That’s top tier for any entrance, baby, and you know it.”

“Jus’ didn’t think it was your favorite.” Jey’s brows waggled. He knew her better than she liked to admit. “Still got some wings on the plate. Wanna ‘nother one?”

Her nose scrunched at the thought. As much as she’d love to prove herself right, acid was building in her esophagus from the two she’d already eaten. “Nope.”

Jey flashed her all his white and gold teeth. “Tell everyone your favorite entrance of mine.”

“WrestleMania 38,” Rhea rushed out. Judging by the big dopey grin on his face, he understood loud and clear.

“Ahh.” He sat back, bringing his arms up to lock behind his neck. “Why that one?”

Rhea snatched up a wing, her mouth still tingling from the previous bites she’d taken. “Ugh. You suck so much.”

“Tell the truth or take a bite.”

She bit off a corner of the wing, then tossed the rest back. Her stomach didn’t want it. “Because your crazy ass was crawling with your tongue out. There. Happy?!”

Jey turned to the camera. “See, folks. My woman took one look at my freak ahh and decided I was hers.”

“I decided you needed that freaky ahh spanked.”

Jey bolted up, eyes glimmering with a spectrum of emotions, namely awe and want. “Damn,” he muttered.

Her hands covered her mouth. “Cut?”’ she squeaked out, too mortified to look at the Hot Ones crew.

“Keep rolling. Hands off asses for the time being.”

“Hear that?” Jey winked. Damn her tendency for blushing around him was making time drag on. He was about ten seconds away from tossing her over his shoulder and leaving the building.

“Shut up.”

“WrestleMania 40.”

“What?”

His face softened at the confused look marring her pretty face. “My favorite entrance of yours.”

“Why?” she asked, dumbly. Still reeling from her earlier confession.

“You kno’ I love all your entrances, boo, but that one takes the cake. Hair, makeup, gear? Gotdamn to all that sexiness goin’ on. Add in your band being there for ya. It was perfect, and I remember cheesin’ so hard for you in the back.”

“You’ve always been a fan, huh?”

Rhea’s a fan. Rang in his mind. Jey could slap Finn for every crime he committed, and yet… those three words had meant the world to a lovesick punk running around trying to get any of her attention on him.

“This where I eat a wing?”

Rhea made sure he was watching before dramatically rolling her eyes. “Be my guest. We all want to see you cry again.”

———————————(っ˘ڡ˘ς)-———————————

Jey did in fact cry again. It wasn’t his damn fault he couldn’t remember some toy from her childhood. He was about to yell “rigged” on the question cards when she started giggling. His girl, his tough “beat ‘em all up” girl was straight giggling because of him.

He was always stupefied by the sound.

After two years, it still had to sink in that Rhea loved him. A man with so many flaws he was ashamed of himself, and yet she looked at him like he could cure her brokenness. How was he so damned blessed?

Rhea tugged her cardigan back up her arm, a few more titters exiting her mouth. The look on Jey’s face had been too much. He pulled off shocked and offended brilliantly.

“Eat another one, peaches.”

“I’m good,” Jey sniffled, a stream of tears ran into the goop spilling from his nose. He accepted a paper towel from one of the crew members, bopping his head in thanks. “Your turn, baby girl.”

“We’ve come to the end, and to test the strength of your relationship, reveal, or eat a wing, the moment you knew you were in love with your partner.”

Jey blew his nose, eyes watering. “We already kno’ the moments tho’. Is this a freebie then?” He looked around the room asking for confirmation.

“Whatever you want, man,” answered one of the producers.

“You got a different answer?”

Rhea shook her head. “I always tell you I fell little by little after SummerSlam, but it was the moment you ran out to protect me and Priest that I knew I was in deep trouble.”

His heart did a quick thump-thump-thump before correcting itself. “I was exactly where I needed to be.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re not revealing the whole truth, so eat that wing.”

Some things didn’t need to be broadcasted to the entire world. How and when and where she knew she was in love with Jey Uso was for them only. As long as Jey knew, she was happy with that.

She picked up the wing, wincing when her chest burned under her breastbone. Tums. She needed Tums.

Jey leaned forward, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. “What’s wrong? Reflux?” She nodded her head once. “I told ya to fake the damn spice being on ‘em. Baby Uso is like its pops and don’t like that crap.”

Baby Uso.

Baby Uso.

“Oh, shit.” Jey licked at his lips, blood thundering recklessly in his ears. “Did I…?”

Rhea pressed her left hand into her chest, slowly leaning back in her seat. “Can we edit that out?” Her eyes were still on her husband, but the question was for the crew.

“Cut. Let’s cut it for now.” The producer, a man most likely in his mid-thirties, short dirty blonde hair, approached. “First, congratulations?” He looked between them. “Whatever you absolutely don’t want in, we’ll leave out, and keep the news from leaking.”

“Uh… thanks,” Jey answered, face red from the slip up. “Whatever you wanna do, sweetheart. You lead, I follow.”

She was twelve weeks pregnant. Their family, friends and coworkers already knew. Behind the scenes, their bosses were planning a way to seamlessly shift her to maternity leave. The next step was to inform their fans, and then Rhea wanted to go dark until she was ready to return to work.

Under the immense scrutiny and online hatred she and Jey received, she’d been pulling back and withholding sharing so much of her life via social media. That now included her child.

Jey tugged on her wrist, lifting her hand to kiss her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” And it was. Rhea sucked in a calming breath, then glanced at the producer. “Keep it in. We only ask that you don’t use it to tease or advertise the episode. I want the reveal to be a surprise for our fans.”

Jey sighed in relief, his lips brushing her knuckles again. “We’ll tell our work this is how we’re breaking the news, and they can figure out the rest.”

“Sounds perfect to us.” The producer clapped his hands together. “Whenever you guys are ready, we’ll have you stand for the ending b-roll.”

Rhea leaned over the table, planting a kiss on Jey’s lips. Her cardigan had been more to hide the small bump poking out. She didn’t look pregnant yet, but her belly had started to round underneath her clothes, and she was already doing all that she could to shield their little miracle from the world.

“Just for that,” she said, lips not leaving his. “Three hours, no questions.”

“Deal.”

If he slipped her a little tongue, on camera, who was anyone to stop him?

𓍯𓂃𓏧 the end

note: the opening was taken straight from the Hot One Versus introduction, so credit is given to them.

જ⁀➴ Thanks to THIS request for the Hot Ones Versus idea! ♡

[ashlynsclaymore]

yall don’t understand how much I ship these two

As a punkintyre defender and a Liv4brutality Stan I still ship them so bad like their so cute tg

[huxleyenne]

Our King Speaks

This one is very comedic and felt suitable for tumblr, so I decided to crosspost today. <3

Title: Our King Speaks (Read on AO3)

Characters/Pairings: Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Cody Rhodes, Rhea Ripley, Rolleigns, Rhiyo, slight Rheigns

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: Comedy, Alcohol, Friendship, Gossip, Gay

Summary: After last call in Boston, four inebriated buddies crash at Denny’s—otherwise known as Boring Waffle House—except waffles aren’t the point.

The point becomes Roman Reigns sometime after the artificial maple syrup starts to taste too much like sweet corn goop upon ethanol breath.

Or

The night Jimmy Uso speaks his mind about what’s up with his damn cousin.

When Monday Night Raw in Boston ends, some friends come together in catering to shoot the shit: The Usos, Cody Rhodes, and a pleasant surprise in Rhea Ripley, whose former champion status, coy demeanor and sick sense of humor draw her into the fold despite her age. She’s cool enough to hang and that’s good enough for the guys.

They are a gang of goofball freaks when they let loose, spending the night drinking from bar to bar, telling loud stories, prying a shitton of eyes, tipping an array of bartenders. Generous in their tipsy hearts, they take care of the locals and feel good doing it.

Security has to step in and bat people away a few times, denying pictures and autographs, but for the most part, these four wrestlers have a ball and would do it all over again if they could.

Being out in the glittering nighttime scene is fun. Something about it seems rare and nostalgic these days, so they take it all in while they can and stay attached at the hip, the men’s all-time Tag Team kings, Smackdown’s babyface superstar, and the women’s Tag Team champ who won both gold love with the Genius of the Sky.

It was fun. Simple, but fun.

Four mighty wrestlers part ways from the common folk at last call, so their grouchy chauffeur carts their drunk asses to Denny’s and drops them off, declaring that he will be taking a two-hour power nap in the parking lot, right in the minivan, so don’t anyone say shit about it or bother him until then. He won’t be far.

Driving that van from bar to bar with all that honking, well. The Usos thought it was funny. Rhea thought they were being dicks for laughing and chided them. Jimmy commented that drivers in Boston are all dicks and Jey yeeted to that. Cody tried not to laugh and said, “no comment,” but the Usos knew he agreed with them, while Rhea thought Cody was being a wishy-washy politician again instead of rightfully telling his friends that they’re being dicks.

They are all varying levels of plastered, with Jimmy at fuck-me-I’m-nearly-sober-enough-to-drive-for-real, to Jey cackling like a stupid hyena through broken sentences, while Cody and Rhea are in a swimmy but somewhat coherent middle ground, Cody slightly more drunk than she.

Everyone’s guts gurgled for nutrients, though.

Boring Waffle House, as Jey liked to call it, had their backs and gave them a private booth, so they could talk their shit and eat all they wanted without any interference.

After doing just that, stuffing their faces with simple carbohydrates and greasy breakfast meat, the group sits full and foggy in an impending-hangover coma, empty plates piled high.

The waitress takes off with a total of twelve empty plates and returns with four steaming mugs of black coffee along with a small, shallow bowl of individual creamers.

Once their server is gone and the group is all alone, Jimmy hiccoughs as Rhea brings up Roman, how he sometimes resembles a wild animal with predatory eyes.

It gives her the shivers apparently. Jey huffs when she says it. Rhea can’t see him rolling his eyes beneath his sunglasses, which he hasn’t removed once the whole night.

If she had, she’d accuse him of being jealous.

Rhea mainly wants to know how Roman taps into that crazy energy, but what Jimmy says doesn’t help her for obvious reasons.  

“He’s gay,” is how Big Jim’s hazy rant starts, but that still gets Rhea’s attention.  

“I’m not playin’ wit y’all right now,” he continues, as crawling sobriety and a foggy headache encroach upon him. The comfort of hot carbs, questionable processed meat, melted butter, and artificial maple sits like a moldy sponge in the pit of his stomach.

Tired of stewing alone in his head all night and day, Jimmy lets it all go.  “Look. I don’t mean no disrespect. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Yours is twisted,” Jey whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, sharing an inebriated guffaw with Cody until Jimmy smacks him upside the head.

Rhea’s sipping black coffee, watching, loving this juicy treat of a group more by the second.

“Go on,” Rhea says, encouraging Jimmy.  “Roman’s gay. Tell us more.”

Jimmy is usually so quiet about Roman, but Rhea senses details her fanfiction writing teenage self would have killed for.

She’s also sad that Iyo’s missing this.

Jimmy’s filter is still blitzed enough to roast his beloved cousin and the biggest dictator in his life, so Rhea can’t fucking wait. She is all ears.

“He’s gay as hell, which would be fine, whatever, but he’s been making that shit our problem for years now. Shit’s crazy, bruh. When’s he ever gon get real and take Seth out? Never!”

Jey, still more blitzed than Cody and Rhea combined, snorts and giggles through Jimmy’s rant, which prompts Cody to snicker and chuckle along, his fingers twitching from the coffee.

Nightmare is also blushing, not just because he’s tipsy, but because he too felt something from Roman, something like a crazy boy crush in denial that the hallowed Tribal Chief tried to bury beneath mountains of rough exterior. Not one soul on planet earth needed to tell Cody Rhodes that Roman Reigns is gay. He knew. Most of the roster did.

It’s easy to see how Seth derived so much amusement from fucking with him all these years.

Roman is too cute. Makes it too damn easy.

“One-thousand…”

Cody’s ears perked up.

“Three-hunnud…”

Rhea nodded.

“Sixteen fuckin’ days.”

“Yeet!”

“Man, shut yo ass up with that yeet, playa!” said Jimmy, all business. “I’m tryin’a make a point.”

“This mother fucker right here!” said Jey, pointing to Cody, who was a cherub picture of innocence. “Fuck you had to team up with Seth for, Uce?”

“Because it worked,” said Cody.

“Seth alliance a damn sucker punch. A low blow!” said Jey, punching the table enough force to make his mug hop, sending brown liquid bean juice splashing every which way, no fucks given. “A cheat code! Brass knucks to the heart!”

“Still worked,” said Cody, polishing off the last of his coffee without a care.

“And that’s exactly my point,” said Jimmy, shaking his head like he regretted everything in life. “Big Uce can’t get his shit together with y’all fuckass men.” He’s glaring at Cody like he’s part of the problem. “Now he’s letting that Punk Ass Bitch run his mouth, too.

“Man, shit’s getting old. Our family out here looking more like reality TV, The Gay Bachelor or some shit.”

“One-thousand three-hundred sixteen days…” Rhea almost sang the words. “I don’t know if I could stand to be apart from my Iyo that long.”

“We all have that special someone who makes us wonder,” said Cody, whose gaze grows sad as he realizes that those words may be less true for him as he’d hoped.

Gossiping about Roman beats the piss out of pining for Randy, but Cody finds himself doing both in his sobering haze, which isn’t fun.

“We had it all,” said Jimmy, cold and staring out into space. “But okay, petty fuckin’ revenge on his ex is more important than his record and reputation. Out here makin’ the family look like shit, losin’ the title, doin’ it all again next Mania season, but this time, getting’ his guts rearranged by that same ex who cost him his title, all while lettin’ some shit-talking old punk bitch third wheel his match, just to be more fuckin’ petty.”

“I think it’s great,” said Rhea. “Very theatric.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Cody reasons, and Rhea nods.

“Big Uce always been selfish as hell about Seth,” said Jey, waving it off like it was old news. “Gets him right in the head. Every head you can think of all at once, every time, yeet! Right down to a science.”

Rhea, cheesing from ear to ear, still can’t get enough of this conversation.  

“At least you’re free from Paul Heyman,” said Rhea. “What a slimy toad that man turned out to be.”

“Hey Cody,” said Jey. “When you gon ask Roman out? We see how you be lookin’ at him.”

“Yeah,” said Jimmy. “And we sick of Seth, too. At least you a man and not a bitch.”

“Hey now,” said Cody, holding his hands up in surrender. “If Roman was interested, that’d be one thing, but…”

“Aight, you either too chicken to ask cuz out…” said Jey.

“Or you not tryna mess with Seth,” said Jimmy. “He will fight you for his man, but please. Ask cuz out anyway. Do it for us?”

“Funny,” said Cody, in an awkward stew of uncomfortable amusement in his slow trek to sobriety. “You’re asking me to not only ask Roman out, but fight Seth along the way?”

“Yes!” said Jimmy.

“Yeet!” said Jey simultaneous to Jimmy.

Rhea sat in pleasantly stunned silence, like Christmas had come early, and everything she couldn’t wait to tell Iyo was unfolding before her eyes. Charlotte and Alexa are sure to get a kick out of it, too.

“That might not be wise, Cody,” said Rhea, much to the consternation of the twins, to whom she winked.

“Why’s that?” said Cody. “Sounds like every fangirl’s dream come true to me. Shall he be the new demon of my dreams?”

“You’d better watch out. I eat those,” said Rhea, licking her teeth.

“I won’t say no to that either,” said Jimmy.

“What’s that, Big J?” said Rhea with a smirk.

“Shot in the dark, but by any chance do you want to ask Roman out, Rhea?” Jimmy asked.

His hopes of lighting a fire under Cody’s ass with a little friendly competition are dashed within seconds.

“Hmm,” Rhea pretended to consider. “I’m going to have to say no. Iyo’s more my type than grumpy old men like Seth and Roman.”   

She is young, and maybe a little drunk still, but she has enough wisdom not to touch The Shield and their epic relationship problems with a fifty-foot pole. It is truly an indulgence that is best enjoyed from a safe distance.

“Aight, Mami. Whatever,” said Jey, his disappointment barely concealed. He wasn’t much younger than Roman, and neither was Cody, but he wouldn’t go as far as to say he’s grumpy.

[judessoccerball]

I hate when im reader a fic from the search bar and when I click of the fic it takes me back to the top!!! ESPECIALLY WHEN I'VE READ ALL THE FICS AT THE TOP UGHHHHH

Like just take me back to where I was in just scrolled for like million hours ugh ugh

[isabella-2025]

The Ripley Effect Finale Warnings: violence • gunfire • blood • death • trauma • character death • emotional distress

Pair: Rhea Ripley X Buddy Matthews and the bloodline.

Plot: Rhea Ripley always thought she understood the life she lived—until one night reveals the truth hiding in her own home. When a single discovery shatters everything she believed about her husband, Rhea steps into a world of secrets, crime, and power she was never meant to see. As dangerous men move in the shadows and alliances shift without warning, Rhea becomes the one force none of them planned for. One choice sets off a chain reaction… and every man tied to Buddy Matthews is about to feel the Ripley Effect.

okay… so… DID YOU EXPECT THAT ENDING or did I actually get you this time

be honest — did it surprise you did you like it did you scream when certain people died because I sure did writing it

thank you for reading this absolute chaos of a story thank you for sticking with me through every twist, every reveal, every heartbreak

and uh… let’s just say… this world isn’t done yet ⚠️👀

Song for this chapter: You should see me in a crown Billie Eilish

The room is frozen.

Buddy has the needle to Rhea’s neck.

Seth is pacing like a wolf.

Bronson, Bron, and Austin have guns on the crowd.

Finn and Damien are crouched above, waiting for the moment.

Roman lifts his hands slightly — not surrendering, just showing he’s not reaching for his gun.

His voice is low, steady, controlled.

“Let the people go. This isn’t their fight.”

Seth stops pacing.

“Isn’t it?”

Jimmy steps forward just an inch — slow, careful.

“These people have families,” he says, voice shaking. “They didn’t do anything. Let them go.”

Buddy’s jaw twitches. His hand trembles against Rhea’s neck.

For a moment — a tiny, fragile moment — the room holds its breath.

And then a woman near the front steps forward, hands raised, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispers. “Please. Please let me go.”

Seth actually pauses.

His eyes flick to her stomach.

Then to her face.

Then back to Roman.

A beat.

Two beats.

Then Seth sighs dramatically.

“Fine. Go.”

The woman sobs in relief as Bronson lowers his gun just enough to let her pass. A few younger people — barely adults — are shoved toward the exit too.

The crowd exhales.

Hope flickers.

And that’s when it happens.

A man — maybe thinking Seth has softened — tries to bolt for the door.

He doesn’t make it three steps.

BANG.

He drops instantly.

A scream tears out of Rhea’s throat.

“STOP!”

The ballroom erupts into chaos — people crying, gasping, stumbling back.

Roman’s face goes dead still.

Jimmy’s voice cracks.

“Oh my God—”

Jey mutters, “He shot him. He actually—”

Solo growls, “We move now.”

But they can’t.

Because Buddy jerks Rhea back, the needle digging into her skin so hard she gasps.

Finn and Damien freeze above — then slowly shift, preparing to drop.

Seth lowers his gun, smiling like he just flicked a switch.

“There,” he says softly. “Now we’re all paying attention.”

Roman’s voice is a low, murderous whisper.

“You’re done.”

Seth smirks.

“Come make me.”

Finn and Damien crouched in the rafters, shadows swallowing them whole.

Below them, the ballroom was a powder keg — Seth pacing, Buddy shaking with the needle pressed to Rhea’s neck, the Bloodline frozen, the crowd trembling.

Damien steadied his gun again, barrel aimed at Seth.

“I’ve got him,” he whispered. “One shot.”

Finn grabbed his wrist.

“No.”

Damien frowned. “He’s right there.”

Finn’s voice was ice.

“I want to kill him. Not yet. Not like this. Aim at someone else.”

Damien exhaled, nodding.

“Understood.”

Finn crawled across the beam toward the staircase rafter — the one directly above Roman’s line of sight. He pulled out the small mirror, angled it, and flashed it once.

A sharp glint of light cut through the ballroom.

Roman’s eyes snapped up.

Confusion.

Recognition.

Memory.

Another flash.

Roman’s breath hitched — he knew that signal.

A signal from childhood.

From the old neighborhood.

From Finn.

Roman looked at Jimmy, Jey, and Solo.

And gave them a look.

A look that meant:

“Get ready.”

Below them, Buddy’s breathing turned ragged. His hand shook violently.

Seth noticed.

“Do it,” Seth hissed. “Stick her. Now.”

Buddy’s grip tightened.

The needle pressed harder.

Rhea gasped.

Damien whispered, “Finn—”

Finn’s eyes locked on the scene below.

Buddy’s hand moved.

The needle touched skin.

And Finn said:

“Now.”

They dropped.

Two shadows falling like vengeance.

Damien landed on Bronson, knocking his gun sideways.

Finn slammed into Bron, sending him crashing into a table.

The entire room exploded.

Rhea screamed.

The Bloodline surged forward.

Seth spun around, gun raised.

Buddy jerked back in shock, losing his grip for half a second.

And that half second?

It changed everything.

The second Finn and Damien hit the floor, the entire ballroom detonates.

Bronson roars and fires at Damien — the bullet grazing his arm as he dives behind a table.

Damien hisses in pain but stays moving.

Finn tackles Bron again, slamming him into a pillar.

Seth spins, gun raised, firing wildly.

Rhea screams as Buddy yanks her backward, the needle shaking in his hand.

Roman moves first.

Not toward Seth.

Not toward Buddy.

Toward the terrified woman closest to Bron — the one Bron had his gun pointed at.

She’s frozen.

Hands over her head.

Sobbing.

Bron lifts his weapon to shoot her—

Roman slams into her, dragging her behind a marble column just as Bron fires.

The bullet shatters the wall where her head had been.

“Go!” Roman growls, shoving her toward the exit. “Run!”

Jimmy and Jey immediately follow his lead — grabbing civilians, pulling them behind overturned tables, pushing them toward the doors Finn and Damien just cleared.

“Move! Move!” Jimmy shouts.

“This way!” Jey yells, guiding a group of shaking guests.

Solo fires at Austin, forcing him to duck and giving a cluster of people a chance to sprint for the exit.

The Bloodline isn’t fighting to win yet —

they’re fighting to save.

Seth notices.

And he hates it.

He fires at Roman — the shot missing by inches as Roman shields another woman and shoves her toward Jimmy.

Buddy tries to drag Rhea toward the side door, but she fights him, kicking, clawing, twisting.

Finn sees it.

Damien sees it.

Roman sees it.

And for one split second, all three men move the same direction.

The room is smoke, screams, gunfire, and bodies scrambling for safety — but the Bloodline is cutting a path through the chaos, clearing civilians as fast as they can.

One by one, people escape.

The pregnant woman.

The young people Seth let go.

The terrified donors.

The staff.

All pushed out by the Bloodline, shielded by their bodies, covered by their gunfire.

Until finally—

The ballroom empties.

Only the fighters remain.

Roman.

Jimmy.

Jey.

Solo.

Finn.

Damien.

Rhea.

Buddy.

Seth.

Bronson.

Bron.

Austin.

The doors slam shut behind the last civilian.

And the real fight begins.

Gunfire cracked through the ballroom like lightning.

Damien dove behind an overturned table, clutching his arm where Seth’s bullet had grazed him. Blood seeped through his fingers, warm and fast, but he forced himself to breathe through the pain.

He ripped open his jacket with one hand, pressing fabric hard against the wound.

“Come on… come on…” he muttered, teeth gritted.

A shadow moved.

Damien looked up.

Bron.

Gun raised. Eyes locked on him. Finger tightening on the trigger.

Damien’s breath caught.

He tried to lift his own gun — but his arm shook too hard, the pain too sharp.

Bron smirked.

“You’re done.”

Damien didn’t even have time to flinch.

BANG.

Bron’s body jerked — a hole blooming in the center of his chest — before he collapsed face‑first onto the marble floor.

Damien blinked.

Slowly, he turned his head.

Solo stood across the room, gun still raised, smoke curling from the barrel.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t need to.

He just held Damien’s gaze… and nodded once.

A silent:

“I’ve got you.”

Damien exhaled shakily, nodding back.

Then he pushed himself up, blood still dripping down his arm, eyes burning with fury.

The fight wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Smoke hung in the air. Seth’s crew was down — Bronson, Bron, Austin — all taken out by the Bloodline, Finn, and Damien in the chaos.

Only Seth and Buddy remained.

Seth was bleeding out on the floor, trying to crawl backward, gun slipping from his hand.

Damien stepped forward, still clutching his grazed arm, eyes burning with a rage that had been waiting years.

Finn stood beside him, chest heaving, gun raised.

Seth looked up at them, trembling.

Damien’s voice cracked.

“You took everything from us.”

Finn’s jaw clenched. His voice was low, shaking, deadly.

“This is what you get… for what you did to my sister.”

Seth’s eyes widened.

Damien didn’t blink.

“Do it.”

Finn pulled the trigger.

BANG.

Seth collapsed.

Still.

Silent.

Buddy froze — still pinned by Jimmy, Jey, and Solo.

Rhea stepped forward, picking up her gun from the floor.

Her hands were steady.

Her eyes were cold.

Finn and Damien grabbed Buddy by the hair, yanking his head up so he had to look at her.

Buddy’s voice cracked.

“Rhea—please—”

Rhea tilted her head.

“You don’t get to say my name.”

Buddy swallowed hard.

“Rhea, I—I didn’t mean—”

“You meant every second of it.”

She raised the gun.

“And now you get to mean this.”

BANG.

Buddy went limp.

Finn and Damien let his head drop.

Rhea exhaled shakily, lowering her gun.

It was over.

Or so they thought.

A wet cough broke the silence.

Seth.

He wasn’t dead.

Not yet.

He rolled onto his back, blood pouring from his mouth, and lifted his gun with the last strength he had.

He aimed at Rhea.

Finn saw it first.

He didn’t think.

He didn’t shout.

He didn’t hesitate.

He just moved.

BANG.

The bullet hit Finn square in the chest.

He fell into Rhea, knocking her backward.

“FINN!” she screamed, catching him before he hit the floor.

Damien froze — horror ripping through him.

“Finn—no—no—NO—”

Finn coughed, blood staining his lips.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused.

Rhea sobbed.

“Why would you do that?! You don’t even know me!”

Finn blinked slowly… then turned his head toward Damien.

“I don’t know…” he whispered. “Ask your brother.”

Damien’s face shattered.

Roman dropped to his knees beside Finn, one hand on his shoulder.

“Stay with us,” Roman said, voice breaking. “Stay with us, Uce.”

Finn’s breathing slowed.

He looked at Rhea one last time.

Then at Damien.

Then at Roman.

“Take… care of them…”

His eyes closed.

His chest stilled.

And Finn was gone.

The gunshot still echoed in Rhea’s ears.

Finn’s blood was on her hands.

His body was heavy in her lap.

Her breath came in sharp, broken gasps.

“Finn—Finn—please—” she sobbed, shaking him. “Don’t do this—don’t—”

But he was already gone.

Damien dropped to his knees beside her, hands trembling, eyes red and wild.

“Rhea…” he whispered.

She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t.

Her whole body shook as she pressed her forehead to Finn’s chest, sobbing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Damien swallowed hard, reached into his pocket… and pulled out a small, worn photograph.

Two little kids.

A boy with messy hair.

A girl with a crooked smile.

Arms around each other.

Rhea and Damien.

He placed it gently in her hand.

Rhea stared at it through tears.

“I kept it,” Damien whispered. “All these years. I kept it because… you were the only good thing I had.”

Rhea broke.

She leaned into him, sobbing into his shoulder as he held her tight, both of them shaking.

Across the room, the Bloodline stood together — bruised, bleeding, exhausted.

Roman’s eyes kept drifting to Finn’s body.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Just stared.

Jimmy put a hand on his shoulder.

Jey stepped closer.

Solo stood guard, silent and steady.

For the first time in years, they looked like a family in pain.

Then—

A loud crash.

The ballroom doors burst open.

FBI agents flooded in, guns raised, shouting commands.

Roman lifted his hands.

Jimmy and Jey followed.

Solo stepped in front of them, ready to fight if he had to.

Damien pulled Rhea behind him.

Finn’s body lay between them and the agents.

And then—

A woman stepped through the doorway.

Blonde hair.

Sharp eyes.

Leather jacket.

Badge around her neck.

Rhea froze.

“Liv…?”

Liv Morgan smirked.

“Hey, Ree.”

Rhea’s breath caught.

Her best friend from middle school.

The girl she used to sneak out with.

The girl she hadn’t seen in years.

Liv lifted a hand.

“Stand down,” she ordered the agents. “Nobody touches them.”

The agents hesitated.

“That’s an order.”

Slowly, the guns lowered.

Liv walked straight up to Rhea, leaned in close, and whispered:

“This all goes away.”

Then she winked.

Rhea stared at her, stunned, shaking, covered in blood.

Liv squeezed her hand.

“You’re safe now.”

The ballroom was quiet now.

Too quiet.

Finn’s body was gone.

Buddy and Seth were dead.

The FBI had cleared out, thanks to Liv.

Rhea sat on the floor with Damien, both of them hollowed out, clinging to each other like they were the only solid things left in the world.

Jimmy and Jey leaned against a broken pillar, bruised and exhausted.

Solo stood guard near the door, silent and steady.

Roman stood alone.

He hadn’t spoken since Finn died.

Hadn’t moved much either.

Just stared at the bloodstained floor where Finn had fallen.

Then slowly… Roman reached into his pocket.

His hand shook.

He pulled out a small, worn photograph.

A girl.

Sunlight in her hair.

A bright, fearless smile.

His arm wrapped around her waist.

A ring on her finger.

Sol Ruca.

His fiancée.

The woman Seth had mentioned.

The woman Roman had buried.

The woman whose death had carved a hole in him that never healed.

Rhea looked up at him, eyes swollen from crying.

“Roman… who is she?”

Roman didn’t answer.

He just stared at the picture like it was the last piece of a life he barely remembered.

His jaw clenched.

His eyes burned.

His breath shook.

He closed his hand around the photo.

Tight.

Too tight.

Like he was afraid it would disappear if he loosened his grip.

Liv walked past him, whispering to an agent, making sure everything was wiped clean.

She glanced at Roman — just for a second — and something in her expression shifted.

Recognition.

Fear.

Pity.

Roman didn’t notice.

He was somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere years ago.

Somewhere with Sol.

Somewhere before everything went wrong.

He looked toward the shattered doors, the empty hallway beyond them.

A storm was coming.

He felt it.

Deep in his bones.

A voice — not spoken, but felt — settled over the room like a shadow:

Little did Roman know…

the people who killed Sol Ruca were already coming for the family.

The End

TAGLIST

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @theusotwinzcom @thebigredmonster @chynagirl13 @mamis-girly @transparentphantomface @amazinggirlsstuff @spiicii @mselenalovebug @sharmelasworld @moxley99 @crazylady20 @myleelovesfood @jeysbitch @skyesthebomb @fafomama @keenagurl @chocobuttabaybee @terrortwinunicorn @mamis-girly2 @lovelyjay45 @wwestrang-fan @bossbitch-25 @xnightmarexpunkx @ctinadiva @nash2023 @ztrek808 phoebe0391 @bigbackbri @armanihouse @bibonacita23 @scorpiodivazchamp @pruningthebreeze @dwill484 @rememberingvirgo

[cynleegeeksout]

They Never Saw Her Coming - Jhea

Part Two: His Ghost Haunts Her

One month later

Where was the creepy ticking? Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock counting seconds and minutes, turning into hours. It would’ve been more fitting to hear time passing rather than watching it disappear on a digital display. Not even a satisfying click as sixty seconds welcomed a new minute. Instead, eight in the morning had drifted into quarter to four in the afternoon, twisting the sun from east to west. No grand entrance. No welcome bells. Time had simply and quietly metamorphosed while she sat with little interest in the world around her.

Not the ocean in the distance. A place she often visited when she needed a reset. Her bare toes gripping grains of sand, wind whistling through her loose hair. Not the sounds of seagulls barely heard over the noise of traffic and pedestrians trying to coexist.

Not today.

Not when hours had disappeared and she’d been awake, eyes staring but not seeing. Existing only to fight a losing battle in her own mind and heart.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

The high back chair creaked— her weight having long been accepted for a lengthy day of silence.

Silence and silence and more silence, all while the voices, eerily familiar, kept pressuring her to open the metaphorical junk drawer where she shoved unwanted things. Lately, she’d disastrously failed to bury her despair deep in the splintered wood.

You can do it, the voice taunted. Peek inside and remember what used to be.

What? she screamed back. What was the point when her dreams and memories were now covered in jagged scars… and the scent of his cologne.

She wanted, no needed, the damn drawer shredded, covered in cement, and blipped out of existence.

Pssst, Rhea, psst.

“No,” she whispered in a growl, “please, no.”

Remember the way his hair smelled that morning?

Her fingers instinctively flexed, desperately wanting one more chance to drag her nails through the nest of silky locks. It had finally grown past his shoulders, cascading like some damn product commercial. She really hated how easy it was for him. How smug he’d been, propped in the doorway most mornings, watching her struggle through her routine. How many times had she huffed in playful annoyance? Her dark strands blowing around, frizzing uncontrollably, all while he stood there, perfect hair, shiny and disgusting.

He was such an asshole, but he was hers.

Pssst.

“No.”

Rhea… Rhea… psst. Remember the way he looked at you before he left that day? How your heart reached for him, silently begging him to stay with you? That blasted blow dryer whirred in your ears and you knew… you knew, you knew, you knew.

Remember how you let him go?

“Stop,” Rhea hissed into the cold office. “Stop.”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

He hadn’t even cleared the bedroom before she shut the dryer off, quickly placing it on the counter before calling out for him to wait.

“Miss me already?” he grinned, turning to close the distance near the foot of their bed.

“Whatever, loser.” She couldn’t even roll her eyes since he was right. “You owe me at least one proper kiss.”

His eyebrows lifted slowly, a talent he had discovered when he was younger and defying his parents. Now, Rhea always smiled, a little upturn of her lips, whenever he did it to her. “Funny how I properly had you tangled in the sheets an hour ago.”

Rhea gripped the front of his shirt, bringing him to her. He had to bend to meet her eyes. “That’s not a proper kiss. Now do it before I knee you in the nuts.”

Unwilling to tempt her, he cupped her chin with enough strength to make her breath hitch, then kissed her once, hard.

“Again.”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Open the drawer and remember.

She couldn’t do it.

She sought relief, and the silence was more comforting than the absence of her little ghost boy.

Every day, the weight was trying to push her into another meltdown, but Rhea had promised her family, her brother, that she was better. She had a purpose to focus on. However, she wasn’t expecting to wake up with shackles around her wrists and ankles, the scent of his cinnamon gum filling her senses. Instead of letting her grief hold her in place, she’d broken free… had commanded her legs to move, ordered her bare feet to carry her into the day.

One step and then two more until she was walking normally through her morning. She’d showered, styled her hair, gotten dressed. All of it with limbs moving with twenty-seven years of instinct and practice. She had tried scrambling eggs for protein, but she’d gagged so much the garbage disposal enjoyed them in her place.

Rhea gave herself credit for at least making an effort.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Her office was a gutted one bedroom apartment. Rhea had spent from her personal savings on the restoration. The city permits had been a monster of a headache, but Rhea Ripley usually got what she wanted, and this time she had. The wall between the bedroom and living room had been hollowed into an arched divider, allowing her to see the entire room, minus the bathroom. Her desk had been set up in front of the bay window, while the bedroom was transformed into a seating area with the back wall mounted with a large screen. She rarely used the stove when the microwave worked perfectly for heating up quick lunches or late dinners. The refrigerator and pantry were fully stocked, as was the small closet she kept for emergency outfits.

Rhea’s space was slowly getting furnished with better lighting and homey knick-knacks and art prints. In fact, one piece of art was a direct reminder of her ghost boy… and half of the time she wanted to stand up and turn it around. Damian had told her to leave it alone, stop fussing over shit, so she did. No matter how much it hurt her.

Pain was still feeling something, and Rhea wanted pain more than the thought of erasing everything that made her think of him. Even if that damn print, basically a glorified poster of a classic Chevy lowrider, the San Diego skyline in the distance, was tacky as all hell, he’d loved it so much it got packed with him when he’d left for college, and then when they’d moved in together. Rhea couldn’t have it in her house, haunting her, so she’d moved it to her office… a place he never had and never would step foot in, hoping it wouldn’t hurt so horrifically.

It did, and she had to stop herself from turning the print over, choosing herself over him. It was Damian’s quiet grief working in his jaw whenever he looked at it, and, deep down, her own heart barely bandaged together but trying to heal, that kept her from being bloody selfish. Besides, her ghost boy didn’t deserve it. He deserved to be in her every breath, buried in the marrow in her bones.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Outside of Rhea, only one person had the key to her office, and only four other people were allowed to be in there. Everyone else called her on her work phone, or radioed her from the line she’d personally given them access to.

Her office wasn’t a sanctuary. It was a place where she’d made the decision to end the modern day Roman Empire. Under his nose, scattered throughout his streets, she was lurking.

Brick by brick, Rhea had pulled together a ragtag group of losers, united in one singular objective, and along the way, they’d formed a family bond far stronger than the Bloodline.

That thought threatened to make her smile for the first time. Roman had no idea what she was capable of. Not yesterday. Especially not today, when she’d driven herself to work, sunglasses pulled over determined eyes, heart figuratively bleeding, leaving a trail for them to find her.

If Roman was ready, the chessboard had been set up.

Tomorrow, it would be check and mate.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

By the time she’d made it to the office, most of her bravado had leaked out of the cracked window. Her emotions ebbing and flowing more than the ocean’s waves. Her feet were still moving forward though.

Beneath her, laughter rang out over the hum of the espresso machine. She needed to have the plumbing looked at, and all of pipes replaced, since they were groaning like tired old men.

Rhea tilted her head in the chair, her finger accidentally bumping her laptop, waking up the screen. Across the room, one-by-one the city’s security cameras filled in the small boxes of the grid on the large screen.

Alert after alert. Ping, ping, ping. Normal sounds.

Now they landed like gunshots piercing her self-inflicted isolation. She flinched then arched her back to stretch her stiff muscles. Her tanned legs, exposed by her cutoff shorts, stuck uncomfortably together where she’d propped them on the desk.

“Shit,” she cursed with irritation. Her voice was scratchy from lack of use.

Next to her laptop, a half-drunk iced coffee sat abandoned, condensation dripping onto a cowprint coaster. Another reminder. Another sign she had tried.

Beep, beep, beep.

Rhea turned her gaze to the big screen on the opposite wall. Cameras one through six blinked, then blurred. Beep. Camera two popped up on the screen, zooming in on one of the Bloodline’s warehouses.

“What the…” she trailed off, sitting up a little straighter, her hand reaching for her glasses. She wasn’t operating the system like she usually did, having happily relinquished the task to someone more capable for the day.

The screen zoomed out, exposing the entire warehouse. Rhea didn’t see anything worth staring at, so she took her glasses off and began rubbing at her tired eyes.

“Knock, knock.”

Rhea groaned into her hands. “It’s open.” She cleared her throat when her voice croaked. Today wasn’t her day for dealing with business, but that damn warehouse was obviously raising alarms.

“Sorry to bother you boss, but you should see this.”

She watched as Becky Rollins stepped hesitantly into the office, her fiery hair pulled half up in an impressive knot, the rest cascading down in long waves. She smiled wide when she caught Rhea’s eyes, even though her body screamed she was nervous. Her headset was pushed around her neck, iPad clutched tightly in front of her.

“Please tell me it’s good news.”

Becky gave her head a slight jerk, her black leather combat boots squeaking on the darkwood floor. “Finn sent a ping from the south side, camera two.”

“He wasn’t given permission to be down there.” Rhea slipped her legs from the desk, stretching them in front of her. She thought about reaching for the cardigan she’d draped behind her chair, but changed her mind.

“We know, but he caught sight of the Brons and followed them to eighty-six and Dove.” Becky tapped on the tablet, bringing up a blurred image of Bron Breakker and Bronson Reed. They both had sunglasses and black zip-up windbreakers on, but there was no mistaking their identity.

“What the hell are they doing down there?”

“Exactly what Finn’s trying to figure out.”

“Damnit!” Rhea slapped her hand on the desk. “Why can’t those douchebags choose a bloody alliance?”

She was sick of their inability to align with a faction. Bron barely had four brain cells rolling around his bald dome, and Reed was a loyal dog following him around waiting for any opportunity to pounce.

There was absolutely no way they liked or respected Roman. Nope. They were too dumb to start their own business, so they leeched onto any group their Papa Heyman told them to. Rhea had watched them sniff around piles of shit for one too many days. Roman was the easiest way to make a quick transaction, but also the fastest way to get a bullet in the skull, or back, since the Tribal Chief didn’t give one bloody damn.

“Was he followed?”

Becky pressed her side into the front of the desk, her gaze still on the tablet. “He doesn’t believe so. It’s been pretty tame down there, other than the Brons making an appearance.”

Wanting the warmth, Rhea lifted her right hand above her head and yanked her cardigan into her lap. “Tell him to lay low and seek out the safe house. No personal cellphone use until tomorrow morning. And, send an alert to Hayes.” She put her glasses back on, the cardigan forgotten, too caught up in her sudden jolt of energy. “If he tries to get lippy, tell him I have his number and two favors.”

Impressed, Becky nodded and tapped out the message to one of their allies and spies. “Finn’s already gone dark, but I tracked him back toward camera one. He should be good for the night.”

“That warehouse hasn’t had a sniff since Christmas. I knew they’d circle back.”

“You think sending the Oompa Loompa’s means anything?”

Rhea mulled it over, the image of the Brons irritating her. She wanted to say no, that those guys would never be a threat, not to her or her family. However, her gut clenched, reminding her that Roman Reigns worked for himself, thought only of himself, and moved for his own personal gain. The Brons were a tool, collateral damage the T.C. would never break a sweat over.

“Yes.” Before Becky could protest, she waved her hand in front of her. “Not an immediate threat, no.”

Becky slid her index finger over the tablet, summoning camera two. Was it too quiet? “We thinking a shipment or a load relocation?"

“Shipment.” That particular building had been empty for several months. They never moved in a pattern.

Someone spearheading the Bloodline’s operations was tactically brilliant. Rhea had spent years memorizing dead end plays, hoping she’d solve the equation.

Nothing. Always outsmarted, just shy of getting the jump on them. If they didn’t work in a distinct manner, she had to think smarter… learn everything she could about them before stepping right into their path, and accidentally making herself and her family vulnerable to exposure and possible expulsion.

“Was that it?” Rhea asked when Becky only nodded in agreement, her demeanor rapidly changing, her fingers growing sickly pale looking around the tablet.

Becky shifted on her feet, her eyes meeting Rhea’s. “Look, boss…” She pushed the tablet into her chest, feeling a mixture of bravery and shits-in-her-pants. “We’ve all seen the calendar. The blokes ain’t got the balls to say anything, but I do.” Across from her, Rhea winced, her eyes misting over before she could hide it from her. “Are you okay?”

Rhea’s tongue poked the inside of her cheek, her throat filling with bile. She wasn’t expecting that question. News of Roman terrorizing the city? Yes.

Pssst.

All it would take was one simple turn of the key and the drawer would come flying open.

“I tried calling his parents,” she answered, voice thick. “That bloody green call button felt like a trap.”

“Twenty-seven?”

“Yeah.” Rhea blinked at her desk, more bile made its way into her esophagus. She swallowed it down, along with the key. “I’ve talked to them so many times, but I can’t get over myself enough to do it today.”

Becky turned her gaze to the window, quietly offering her friend a moment to pull herself together. She understood, she herself hated crying in front of anyone that wasn’t her husband. Rhea, on the other hand, was an anomaly. She spat at the thought of showing any vulnerability, and yet when she did, she owned it and carried it like a warrior.

“I can only imagine whatever you’re feeling is even worse for them.”

“I know.”

“It’s also alright if you need to push them away for a while.” Becky sat the tablet down on Rhea’s desk, daring to lean over and rub her hand over her boss’s. “For what it’s worth. You’re stronger than all of us combined, and that’s me admitting it.”

Rhea sniffled, a hint of a smile flashing across her lips. As much as she appreciated the compliment, it was hollow words passing through a gaping heart. She was too broken to absorb them.

“Want me to send them a message on your behalf?”

Rhea shook her head. “They’re good people. I won’t do that to them.” She flipped her hand over, squeezing once, allowing herself a second to be an open wound. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Becky stayed still until Rhea bobbed her head, then pulled her hand away. “Was the coffee too experimental?"

“What?” Rhea asked, confused.

Becky pointed to the sad state of Rhea’s iced coffee, a knowing smirk twitching at her mouth.

“No… nothing’s tasted good today.” Sheepishly, she poked her pointer finger on the lid. “Don’t tell him.”

“He’ll understand.”

“Please.”

She waited until Rhea looked up at her, then winked.

Her husband wouldn’t be offended. Well, not too much once his ego calmed down, but it was better to let him believe Rhea had enjoyed the coffee. “So,” she said in an effort to change the subject again. “Are you still going through with tonight’s plan?”

Rhea’s gaze moved back to the coffee, her black and nude nails, then to her trusted assistant-slash-tech wizard. “Yes.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I need the distraction.” Leave it to Becky to pull off looking both begrudged and proud. “I’ll be fine. You know I wouldn’t go out there and jeopardize myself or everything we’ve been working toward.”

Becky huffed. “We trust you, and that’s why I’ve already told that wombat Waller to change out the plates and registration information.”

Rhea felt her lips lift. Not enough for Becky to clock, but it didn’t matter when some life was gently stirring in her again. “Have Theory bring ‘round that rust bucket Corolla, and have my Benz covered.”

“Done and done.” Becky laughed, one short burst. “I took great pleasure in telling him to stop taking selfies with it to use as his Tinder profile picture.”

“You’re shitting me?” Her mouth opened in disgust. Even more when Becky’s eyes widened in faux horror. “That arse is lucky he’s useful.” He was also lucky that Rhea was too busy to hack into the app and make him go on a blind date with her. He’d piss his pants, and still be responsible for buying her dinner. To-go.

On the desk, the tablet lit up, followed by three alert tones. Becky reached for it, her nerves spiking at the first message.

RHM spotted. Cam 5. 4:26. Alone. Not armed.

“What is it?” Rhea asked, holding her hand out for the device.

“Tonight’s plan.”

Rhea snatched the iPad, her hand shaky as she read the message, then clicked open the first JPEG file.

It wasn’t blurry like the earlier picture of the Brons.

No.

Bronzed skin and arms covered in tattoos were amazingly clear. Without thinking, she used her index and middle fingers to zoom in, carefully noting the fit of his gray shirt, similar to the one he was wearing before. A black beanie sat close to his head, pulled down slightly over his brows, the sides hid the tops of his ears, leaving his diamond stud earrings with an attached chain blindingly visible. Black jeans hung low on his waist, a matching black belt peeked out from the hem of his shirt.

She opened the second JPEG file, noting the same Escalade Naomi had been driving. Rhea zoomed in, tracing the shape of his legs, his feet snug in black and white Adidas sneakers. His face was shamefully blurred from the motion of him exiting the driver’s seat.

“He appear out of bloody nowhere?”

“Seems so.”

“He’s good. I’ll give him that.” Rhea pursed her lips in thought. Jey Uso didn’t outwardly shout DANGER, not like some of the men she’d faced over the years.

“He’s charming.”

“He’s personable."

“He’s smart.”

“He’s lethal when his family is the target.”

Rhea scanned the first file again. Whatever captured his attention had made the lines around his eyes crease in an endearing way. He didn’t look like a threat, and that’s why she’d been warned to never give him the opportunity to shoot her in the back.

“Have Priest drive by Julien and make sure it’s clear.”

Not for the first time, apprehension threatened to overstep Becky’s bounds as Rhea’s assistant. “Boss, are you sure about this?”

She always did her best to be the role model. Rhea was younger than most of her family, but she had risen as the decision maker. She was committed, now more than ever, to rip the Bloodline apart. “I want them to believe Julien is where I live.” She wanted them to follow her, stake her out, get excited to have a reason to breathe outside of Roman’s stranglehold.

And then she would strike.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Jey paused outside of Appy Ar to drag in a breath. It was still too early for a large crowd, but Appy’s was always occupied. Anyone hanging out this far into the underbelly needed a drink— a friend— an escape.

Tilting his head back, he stared up at the evening sky.

Only a few streaks of light held on to the last seconds of daytime. It wasn’t often he got the chance to see the sunset. Tonight had made him yearn, deep in his chest, for the memory of Samoa’s sands and his mama’s insistence he eat his entire plate. Florida beaches could never replace the times his parents had shown him the island of his people, the ways of his culture.

His heart longed for it, and as the sun had scattered an array of pinks and oranges, he’d watched day transition into night from the Escalade, windows down, the sounds of his childhood whirring in his ears.

Now, storm clouds had begun to roll in, following him as a visual representation of his damn life. Dark and heavy, hovering ominously for their chance to bully everyone below. The late sun had burned through some of the humidity, but it still hung thick in the air.

Jey scrunched his nose as the pungent smell of rotting garbage stunk up the walkway. Someone down here forgot trash day wasn’t a suggestion. If he found out who it was— nah. He couldn’t strangle someone over trash that smelt like asscheeks and sour milk. Not when he was determined to find her. His mystery girl with the long legs and sultry voice.

She’d been tormenting his dreams.

He didn’t want to address why he’d been tweaking like some damn addict all afternoon. It for sure wasn’t about some goddess of a woman trying to insert herself in his life. For twenty-nine days, Jey hadn’t been able to shake the scent of wild gardenias mixed with nicotine and tobacco. Nor the way her mouth had looked smoking that cigarette.

Damn it all to hell and back to earth.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Appy Ar welcomed him with the pulsing beats of “Chief Boot Knocka” by Sir Mix-a-Lot. Immediately, he felt at home in the congested environment.

The bar stools were occupied, some of the regulars had already settled in. Against the back walk, a few retired construction workers raised their glasses at him. None of them bothered by the thirty year-old wallpaper flaking on the ground by their feet.

He bopped his head in acknowledgment. If he wandered too close to their table he’d never leave. They talked too damn much about shit Jey wasn’t interested in. Plus, he didn’t think they’d be impressed hearing how his cousin had “made an example” out of him in front of his brothers last week.

The cool dude that danced on top of bars and bragged about his gym reps was actually a pussy, too settled in his life to leave it. Why would they care about him? He wasn’t worth investing a single penny in.

“What’s your poison?”

Jey grinned at the lone man behind the bar. “Whatever y’all got in a bottle.” Hell to the naw was he drinking anything on tap when he had to drive.

One of the last times he’d done that, he was seeing triple and Solo had to hoist his drunk ass over his shoulder. Matter of fact, his memories still had suspicious holes in it.

While he waited, he discreetly scanned the room, avoiding eye contact with the burly man with an impressive scowl on his face, a line of dirty shot glasses in front of him.

“What crawled up his ass?” Jey asked, not expecting anyone to answer.

“Got rejected by the chick playin’ darts.”

Jey raised his brows at Tony, the only bartender younger than him. He hated seeing a good dude have to bust his ass down here just to survive. “That’ll do it.”

“I think what did it was her handing him a five. A buck for every second he wasted her time.”

He whistled. “Damn. That’s tough”

Tony smiled in sympathy. “She’s a looker, man, if you wanna shoot your shot.”

Jey’s face flushed. “My bad luck breaking news down in this shithole?” He winced at Tony’s shrug. “For real? I told y’all not to listen to my brothers.”

“Uh huh.”

“Damn.” He shoved a twenty in the tip jar, then slid a hundred to Tony when he handed over his beer. “Your girl have the baby yet?”

Tony stared down at the folded bill in his hand. “Any day now.”

He took a long pull from the bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Then save that for diapers or shit.”

“Thanks, man. I…”

“Jus’ do right by your family.” With that, Jey lifted the bottle in thanks and made his way to the old jukebox across the room. Above it a broken dartboard hung on the stained wall. Tiny dart holes punctured chipped paint like his childhood Lite-Brite.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

“You ever get that shot of whiskey, sweetheart?”

Rhea kept her eyes on the wall, the last of her darts gripped tightly in her fingers. “Took you long enough, sugar.”

Behind her, Jey raised the bottle to his lips for another sip, again wiping his mouth with his hand.

Damn she was pretty, even her backside— covered in loose jeans and a black and white flannel tied around her waist— looked good.

“Think I didn’t see you the second I walked in here?”

Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips. “Like I said.” She glanced over her shoulder, standing tall when the full weight of his brown eyes hit her. “Took you long enough.”

Air rushed from his nose. Gotdamn. “Can’t a man get a beer first?”

“If that’s how he chooses to prioritize his evening.” Rhea turned back to the dartboard and flicked her wrist. “Shit,” she cursed under her breath when the dart stuck in the wall.

Jey chuckled, stepping right up to her. “Need some help, sweetheart?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You look good.”

Rhea spun around. “What?”

He used his bottle to point at her. “You look real good, honey.”

Heat flared unexpectedly under her lace bra. “Did you doubt it, love?”

Jey was fast with the banter, and if Rhea stood any chance in hell, she would have to be faster. He’s charming. Be careful. She’d been warned numerous times by people who had firsthand experience with Roman’s RHM. Please, be careful.

Instead of answering, he openly checked her out, congratulating himself when her breath skipped.

She was wearing a thick strapped cropped black tank top that left her midriff exposed. Jey had to school his features when he noticed ink peeking out from where the flannel was knotted. His eyes paused over the hint of rounded cleavage adorned with the same necklaces as before. Her skin looked soft enough to touch.

Shit. Get a grip, man.

The only grip Jey wanted was to bury his nose in the place where her neck and shoulder met, feel his way up to her pierced ears, kiss along her sharp jaw… right to her plump mouth.

Rhea cleared her throat. “You ever seen a woman before?”

“Ha, ha.” Jey gulped down half of the bottle of beer. “Never seen a woman like you is all.”

She snorted, so unladylike, yet somehow fitting for the goddess standing in front of him. He smirked at her unimpressed scowl.

Yeah, princess, let me under your skin.

Even though she was wearing a black snapback pulled down low, her features were making the beer fizz in his gut. “You ever get that shot of whiskey?” Jey asked again, since she didn’t answer him the first time.

Rhea’s lips twitched at the corner. He was persistent. “Decided to wait for the right time.”

“Yea’?” Shrugging, he downed the rest of his beer and set in on the empty table behind him. Her blue eyes burned a trail up the side of his neck. Did she like what she saw? He wouldn’t blame her either way. “Ever play ‘round the clock?”

Her forehead pinched in confusion. “What’s that?”

Jey laughed. “I’ll take that as a no then.” Moving past her, he yanked the darts out of the board and wall, chuckling again at how awful her last shot had been. “Gotta hit every number in order. Start with one, then move around the board until you hit twenty.”

She stepped aside when he motioned for her to let him stand where she’d been. “I was just throwing darts hoping one would be a bullseye.”

“First mistake.” He shrugged, ignoring the heat radiating down his right arm. She was close, her presence threatening to consume him. “We each get three darts and three shots in a round.”

“Then what?”

Jey rolled his shoulders, shook his right arm out, and tossed his first dart at the target. “One.”

Rhea crossed her arms, her eyes squinting even though she had her contacts in. “Wow,” she said with zero inflection. “Don’t hurt those biceps of yours.”

He smiled, every damn tooth on display. “You thirsty for my arms, baby?”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Against her will and better judgment, Rhea got into the game. Huffing in genuine irritation when he made it to fourteen before she had five.

She’d stomped her foot once, but he seemed to like that— and she was on the fence with how much to give him. This man had been looking at her funny, a toss between lusting and finding her “adorable” whenever she failed to earn a point.

Her Vans nearly made contact with the back of his knee when he’d called her that.

“Nineteen.” Jey pumped his fist, grinning as she fake congratulated him. “Not my fault you’re terrible at this.”

“Whatever, love.” Rhea was beyond pissed. Her back was damp with sweat from the crappy ventilation in the bar. She wanted a smoke and a reason to slap the smug look off of his problematic face.

“I offered to help ya.” He shrugged, before lining up his last shot. “Jus’ gotta keep your eye on the target, princess.” Jey pulled his wrist back and let the dart go.

Twenty.

She stomped her foot.

“I win.”

He bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes locked with hers. Who are you? He wanted to ask… but he didn’t want to hear lies. Not from someone so damn captivating.

Rhea looked away first, letting him have his small victory. She still had a dart in her hand, so she launched it, satisfied when it landed on the board.

Jey’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. Sighing, he quietly closed the gap between them. He hesitated just a half second before leaning into her side, his arm brushing hers. His mystery girl’s mouth opened wide enough to rattle out an expletive. He leaned in even more, his own mouth struggling to contain how close to the edge he was.

Who are you?

She stiffened, but didn’t pull away from him.

His phone buzzed again. Jey ignored it in order to ghost his nose over the back of her neck.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Seeing if you smell like I remember.”

Rhea turned abruptly, their chests practically touching with the motion. “And?”

He closed his eyes, savoring the sweet scent from his dreams. “Maybe you’ll see me around.”

“What?” she mouthed, her heart one-two punching as he backed away, a knowing smirk lighting up his face.

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Outside, the obnoxious stench of trash assaulted his nose, killing whatever buzz the beer had tried giving him. “Someone out here stank like booty cheeks and ball sweat,” Jey muttered, covering his face with his hands. “Take a damn shower and pull your damn cans out every damn Wednesday, dawgs.”

Down the street, headlights flashed one, four, then two times. Jimmy’s signal. He lifted his right hand up. “Uhh.” Damn it smelled funky. Jey almost felt bad his mystery girl was going to suffer the same misfortune.

Flashing lights. One, four, two.

Jimmy repeated the pattern until Jey reached the driver’s side door of their souped up Tahoe.

“What funny business was that, assholes?” He sneered at his idiot brothers. Jimmy had the nerve to shrug innocently. “Ya’ll can blind me all you damn want, but imma still knock your heads together and steal yo money."

Solo snickered from the passenger seat.

“Real funny.” Jey shoved his hand through the window, flipping his little brother off.

“Blink if you need help.”

Jey flicked Jimmy on the forehead. “I’m blinking ‘cause you jerks can’t take nothin’ serious.”

Jimmy lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror, sharing a look with Sami. “We’re being serious, man. You need to lighten up once in a while. ‘Sides…” He stretched his hand behind him for Sami’s phone. “We got what we needed.”

“You sure?” Jey peeked behind him, double-checking they had privacy. “Any damage done?”

“Nah.”

Sami gripped the backs of the front seats and pulled his torso between the brothers. “I did it, man. No prints. No one else in the area. Kept my hood up and head down.”

“Good.” Jey accepted the phone, thankful Jimmy already had the pictures pulled up. “What we kno’?”

“Car’s registered to a Rhea Ripley. Everything tracked, man. No record. Twenty-seven. She’s from Australia, but moved here when she was a teenager. Graduated from St. Joesph’s. Played soccer and volleyball in college. Average grades. Degree in Communication.”

Jey scrolled through the images, pausing at an older passport photo. Her hair was shorter, but there was no mistaking her blue eyes and cocky smirk. “What’s she doing in the States?”

“No clue.” Jimmy craned his neck to see which one had caught his twin’s attention. “Of course."

“What?”

“You gotta keep the drool to a minimum.”

Jey rolled his eyes. Later, he’d make sure to remind his big brother how many days his ass was parked on the couch. Sis had blown a fuse after pulling up and seeing Jim letting another woman touch him, without a fight.

Humming low to himself, he traced his thumb over the screen. His mystery girl had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen in person. No wonder… “Rhea, huh? She really is a damn goddess.”

Solo leaned over the center console, making sure to shoulder Sami playfully. “What you on ‘bout?”

“Rhea, the mother of the gods.” He let out an amused huff. It figured, out of the group, he’d have an immortal beauty land in his path.

“You pull that info from your ass?”

Sami dipped his head down, unable to stop his face from doing something that would piss Jey off.

“It’s called readin’ grown folk books.”

“Ooooh.” Jimmy looked around the car. “Can you believe this foo’? Thinks he’s betta than us ‘cause he sips coffee and reads for fun.”

“I like sipping coffee.” Sami admitted.

“And that’s why we’re your only friends.”

Sami slapped the back of Solo’s head, making Jey and Jimmy both crack identical grins.

Jey waited until they quieted down, then passed Sami’s phone back to him. “Send me everythin’ you got.” Tapping his hands on the car, he blew out a heavy breath. “Somethin’ fishy is goin’ on.”

“‘Fraid so.” Jimmy quietly agreed, extending his fist for Jey to bump. “Stay safe out there, little brother. I kno’ Julien isn’t the worst part of town, but play it as discreetly as possible.”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Rhea pulled into the short driveway, her heart thumping against her ribs. She hadn’t been to this location in months, choosing to stay in the two-story house his parents had gifted them further in the suburbs. Her Julien home didn’t look like much on the outside. One story, two bedrooms, a tiny kitchen and a laughable backyard. It was hers, though, earned with her own money.

It kept her secrets safe, and now it would be her residence until she finished the job she’d started.

Killing the engine, she flipped the headlights off and stepped out of the creaky old car. “You did good, LuLu.” Manually locking the door, she pushed it closed and made her way up the walkway, the front porch light clicking on once it sensed her. She finger waved at the hidden camera, knowing Becky and Damian would both be checking to see she’d made it safely.

Once in the house, she kicked her shoes off, and looked around the familiar space.

Remember?

A photo of them was stuck to the fridge with a tacky California souvenir magnet. Senior Prom. His arms wrapped around her from behind.

She’d been so damn happy.

Sniffling as a wave of anguish hit her like a tsunami, she dug her pack of cigarettes and lighter out of her pocket. “You bastard,” she whispered. “You bloody bastard.”

Psst, Rhea, psst.

Car lights flashed in her living room window, alerting her someone had turned onto her street. Rhea knew it was Jey. She knew he’d take the bait. Wiping her nose with her fingers, she walked to the front window, tilting the blinds just enough to let the moonlight shine in.

Her legs protested sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. Working her thumb over the igniter, she lit a much needed cigarette, the first puff soothing some of the tears from her throat. She pulled in another lungful, letting it sit in her mouth before tilting her head up and releasing the smoke.

With her free hand, she untied the flannel from her waist. His. She’d stolen it years ago. Forgive me.

Their prom picture called to her, but she couldn’t remember that day. Not now. Instead, she unlocked her phone and went to the only saved voicemail she had left. Why didn’t she think to save them all?

His voice.

Her little ghost boy haunted her every hour.

“Mamacita, you’re torturing me here. Answer your damn phone. Can’t just show up to mis padres anniversary party dressed like that and then waltz out after dessert. Mami, answer the phone. I’m dying here. This is cruel. I’m trapped with my cousins, and my abuelito won’t stop pestering me about you. Damn, mami, I’d be jealous if I knew you didn’t go for fossils— Ouch. Shit, man, sorry! Geez, that old fart has a strong grip. Okay, fine. Be mean, you tease. Te amo.”

Rhea let out a loud sob, ashes flicking onto the floor. “Feliz cumpleaños mi amor.”

—————————⫘—-⫘⫘⫘⫘-—⫘—————————

Rain began to drizzle, softly hitting the windshield of the Escalade. Jey tugged on his Nike hoodie, then adjusted his seat back enough to comfortably stretch his legs. He was prepared to watch her house all night, only one question on his mind: Rhea Ripley, who are you?

🔗 Part One | Part Three (soon…)

Do you ever read fics and picture them as scenes in a movie? That’s what I do, and how I write. Everything is incredibly cinematic, including specific songs being used. THIS one was all I could listen to while the last part of the chapter unfolded ..𓂃 ִֶ𓏲ּ𝄢ִֶָ

[isabella-2025]

The champions peace

Pair: Solo Sikoa X Rhea Ripley

Plot: Rhea Ripley walks into Clash already carrying the weight of a brutal week, but the night pushes her even harder than she expects. Her match becomes a war, her body takes more damage than she lets on, and the chaos around her only grows. The one person who sees through her “I’m fine” act is Solo Sikoa. Between backstage moments, quiet concern, and the way he grounds her when everything else feels loud, Rhea finds comfort in the one man who refuses to let her fall apart alone. By the end of the night, she learns that even the strongest champions sometimes need someone to lean on.

so all of you liked the other rhea and solo fic, so… here’s some more lol. this one is pure comfort. rhea being strong even when she’s hurting, solo being the one person who can slow her breathing down and bring her back to earth. it’s warm, grounding, and honestly the emotional reset i needed after that match. the song for this one is “I Get To Love You” by Ruelle — soft, steady, and exactly their energy. hope it hits you in the chest the way it hit me. 🤍😊❤️

Rhea Ripley wasn’t scared of many people.

But Jade Cargill?

Jade was different.

Jade was power meeting power.

And even Rhea could feel the weight of that.

She paced the hallway near gorilla, rolling her shoulders, shaking out her hands, jaw tight. Her breathing was too fast. Her chest felt too tight. Her mind wouldn’t stop racing.

She hated this feeling.

She hated that she couldn’t control it.

She hated that—

A warm hand slid around her waist from behind.

Rhea froze.

Then melted.

Solo pressed his forehead to the back of her head, his breath steady, slow, grounding.

“Baby,” he murmured, voice low and calm, “you’re spiraling.”

Rhea exhaled shakily. “I’m fine.”

Solo stepped around her, gently taking her face in both hands.

“Look at me.”

She did.

And everything inside her slowed.

His thumbs brushed her cheekbones. His eyes were soft — the softness he only ever showed her. The softness that made her feel safe in a way nothing else did.

“You’re Rhea f***ing Ripley,” he said quietly. “You don’t run from pressure. You crush it.”

Rhea swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s strong, Solo.”

“So are you.”

“She’s fast.”

“So are you.”

“She’s—”

Solo cut her off by leaning in and kissing her forehead, slow and deliberate.

“You’re better.”

Rhea’s breath hitched.

He always knew exactly what to say. Exactly how to touch her. Exactly how to pull her back down to earth when her mind tried to run away.

Solo slid his hands down her arms, fingers lacing with hers.

“You’ve beaten everyone they said you couldn’t,” he murmured. “Tonight won’t be any different.”

Rhea let out a shaky laugh. “You really think so?”

Solo smirked — that rare, soft smirk he saved just for her.

“I don’t think,” he said. “I know.”

Rhea leaned forward, resting her forehead against his chest, letting herself breathe him in — the warmth, the steadiness, the quiet strength.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Solo kissed the top of her head.

“Always.”

A stagehand called, “Rhea, you’re up in thirty!”

Rhea straightened, rolling her shoulders back, the nerves replaced with fire.

Solo squeezed her hand once before letting go.

“Go show her who you are.”

Rhea smirked — the dangerous one.

And as she walked toward gorilla, she didn’t feel nervous anymore.

She felt unstoppable.

Because Solo believed in her.

And that was enough.

The arena lights dropped.

Then—

“THIS IS MY BRUTALITY!”

The crowd ERUPTED.

Not loud — violent.

A wall of sound.

A tidal wave of cheers that rattled the barricades.

Solo stood backstage, arms crossed, watching the monitor with a small, proud smirk.

Michael Cole “Listen to this place! Rhea Ripley is getting a HERO’S welcome tonight!”

Corey Graves “Yeah, yeah, the goth queen’s popular. Jade Cargill is still the future.”

Rhea walked through the smoke with that dangerous swagger — chin high, shoulders loose, eyes locked on the ring like she owned it.

Because she did.

The bell rang and Rhea and Jade met in the center of the ring, trading heavy shots that echoed through the arena.

Cole: “Neither woman backing down! This is a fight, not a match!”

Graves: “Jade hits harder. Rhea hits meaner. Pick your poison.”

Rhea ducked a knee, cracked Jade with a brutal headbutt, then hooked her—

RIPTIDE.

She planted Jade HARD.

Cole: “RIPTIDE! Rhea’s got her!”

Rhea covered.

One— Two—

B‑Fab and Michin sprinted down the ramp, sliding to the apron.

They grabbed Jade’s ankle and shoved her foot onto the bottom rope.

The ref saw it instantly.

Cole: “HEY! The referee caught them! He caught them red‑handed!”

Graves: “They were just… adjusting her positioning!”

The ref pointed at them and kicked them out.

The crowd exploded.

Solo smirked backstage.

“Get outta here.”

Rhea rolled out of the ring, fury in her eyes, stalking toward Michin and B‑Fab as they backed up the ramp.

She stopped inches from them.

Stared them down.

And then—

She smirked.

Slow.

Dangerous.

Knowing.

Because—

Charlotte came flying over the barricade like a missile.

Cole: “CHARLOTTE FLAIR! WHERE DID SHE COME FROM?!”

She hit B‑Fab first —

then Michin —

dropping both women in seconds.

The crowd ERUPTED.

Rhea’s smirk widened.

Graves: “Oh great, now the Queen wants attention.”

Solo muttered at the monitor, “Good timing, Flair.”

Rhea turned her head for half a second — just long enough to see Charlotte standing tall over the fallen women.

And that’s when Jade struck.

PUNT KICK.

Rhea folded, hitting the mat hard.

Cole: “OH MY GOD! JADE JUST TOOK HER HEAD OFF!”

Jade dragged her up, hooked her—

JADED.

Graves: “That’s it! That’s gotta be it!”

Jade covered.

One— Two— Charlotte reached in and put Rhea’s foot on the bottom rope.

The ref didn’t see it.

Cole: “The referee didn’t see the foot! He didn’t see it!”

Graves: “Oh NOW you’re upset about cheating? Please.”

Solo exhaled shakily backstage.

“Good girl, Queen.”

Jade grabbed Rhea again, muscling her up for another Jaded—

Rhea HEADBUTTED her.

Jade staggered.

Rhea hooked her—

RIPTIDE.

She stacked Jade up, all her weight pressing down.

Uno.

Due.

Tre.

The bell rang.

Cole: “RHEA RIPLEY RETAINS! WHAT A MATCH!”

Graves: “I’ll give her credit… she survived Jade Cargill. That’s not easy.”

Solo’s whole body relaxed, pride softening his face.

“That’s my girl.”

Charlotte stood on the outside, breathing hard, staring at Rhea.

Rhea stared back.

Charlotte pointed at her.

Rhea pointed back.

A nod.

A silent agreement.

A warning.

A promise.

Cole: “Rhea Ripley and Charlotte Flair… they’re not done with each other.”

Graves: “Not even close.”

Rhea pushed through the curtain after her match, chest still heaving, sweat dripping down her spine, adrenaline buzzing under her skin. The moment she stepped backstage, the noise of the arena faded into a low hum.

She barely had time to catch her breath before Charlotte was there.

Charlotte didn’t say anything at first.

She just stepped forward and pulled Rhea into a tight, grounding hug.

Rhea let out a shaky exhale against her shoulder.

“Good job out there,” Charlotte murmured. “You handled her.”

Rhea smirked. “We handled her.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

Then—

“Hey… move over, tall people.”

Alexa Bliss appeared, still bruised from Friday night — a faint purple mark along her jaw, a wrap around her ribs, moving a little slower than usual. But she was smiling.

A real one.

Rhea’s expression softened instantly.

“Lex…” she whispered, reaching out.

Alexa didn’t hesitate. She stepped right into them, arms wrapping around both Rhea and Charlotte. The three of them formed a messy, warm, protective knot of limbs and bruises and relief.

Alexa squeezed them tighter.

“I’m okay,” she said softly. “And you two kicked ass.”

Rhea kissed the top of Alexa’s head.

Charlotte rubbed her back gently.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t loud.

It was just… family.

And a few feet away—

Solo watched.

Leaning against a crate, arms crossed, expression unreadable but eyes soft. Softer than anyone ever got to see.

He didn’t interrupt.

He didn’t insert himself.

He didn’t need to.

He just watched Rhea surrounded by the women who loved her, supported her, fought beside her.

And he looked proud.

Like seeing her held up by her people made him love her even more.

Alexa pulled back first, wiping her eyes with a laugh. “Okay, okay, enough emotions, I’m fragile.”

Charlotte snorted. Rhea grinned.

Then Rhea turned her head— and her eyes found Solo.

Her whole face changed.

The tough champion softened.

The fighter melted.

The woman came forward.

She stepped out of the group hug and walked straight to him.

Solo didn’t move until she was right in front of him.

Then he reached out, cupping her jaw gently with one hand.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

Rhea nodded.

“Yeah. I am.”

She leaned into his touch.

Behind her, Charlotte and Alexa exchanged a knowing look.

Because Rhea Ripley wasn’t just held up by her girls.

She was held up by him too.

And Solo?

He looked at her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.

Backstage had finally calmed down. Charlotte and Alexa had drifted off toward medical, crew members were clearing equipment, and the adrenaline from the match was slowly fading out of Rhea’s system.

Solo stayed close.

Not hovering.

Not smothering.

Just… there.

Watching her.

Reading her.

Knowing her.

Rhea rolled her shoulders, trying to stretch out the ache in her lower back. She tried to hide the wince, but Solo caught it instantly.

He stepped in front of her, brows pulling together.

“Rhea,” he said quietly, “is your back okay?”

She straightened immediately, forcing a shrug. “Yeah, babe. I’m good.”

Solo didn’t blink.

Rhea tried again. “I’m serious. It’s fine.”

Then she reached down to grab her bag—

And the moment she bent even slightly, a sharp pain shot up her spine.

She winced.

Hard.

Solo’s expression changed instantly — soft concern turning into firm, unshakeable resolve.

“Oh no,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Nope. We’re not doing this.”

Rhea blinked. “Doing what?”

“You pretending you’re made of steel,” Solo said, stepping closer. “You took a punt kick, a DDT, and your back hit the apron. You’re hurting.”

Rhea opened her mouth to argue—

Solo gently placed a hand on her lower back.

She flinched.

Just a little.

That was all he needed.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “that’s what I thought.”

Rhea sighed, defeated but touched.

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

Solo shook his head.

“Not a chance.”

He took her bag off her shoulder before she could protest, slinging it over his own.

“Come on,” he said, voice low but warm. “We’re going to the hotel.”

Rhea raised a brow.

“Oh yeah? And what exactly is the plan?”

Solo didn’t hesitate.

“You’re getting a massage,” he said simply. “A real one. With heat. With muscle balm. With you actually resting for once.”

Rhea stared at him.

Then she smiled — soft, tired, grateful.

“You’re too good to me,” she whispered.

Solo brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“No,” he said gently. “I just love you enough to make sure you don’t break yourself.”

Rhea leaned into him, letting her forehead rest against his chest for a moment.

“Okay,” she murmured. “Take me home.”

Solo kissed the top of her head — a quiet, grounding touch — then guided her toward the exit, one hand steady on her back, careful and protective.

And for the first time since the match ended, Rhea let herself relax.

Because she knew she was safe.

Because she knew she was cared for.

Because she knew Solo had her.

Always.

The hotel room door clicked shut behind them, sealing out the noise of the arena and the chaos of the night. Rhea let out a long breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, dropping her bag by the wall.

Solo watched her quietly — the way she moved slower than usual, the way she kept one hand pressed to her lower back, the way exhaustion softened her edges.

“You’re hurting,” he said gently.

Rhea shot him a tired smirk. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Solo stepped closer, brushing his fingers lightly along her spine.

She flinched.

Just a little.

That was all he needed.

“Sit,” he murmured, nodding toward the bed.

Rhea raised a brow. “Oh, we’re doing orders now?”

Solo smirked. “Only when you pretend you’re invincible.”

She rolled her eyes but sat anyway, letting out a quiet groan as she settled. Solo grabbed a warm towel from the bathroom and a small bottle of muscle balm — he always carried it for nights like this.

He knelt behind her on the bed, lifting the hem of her shirt just enough to reach the tight muscles along her back.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” he said softly.

“It already hurts,” she mumbled, but her voice was soft, trusting.

Solo pressed the warm towel to her back first, letting the heat sink in. Rhea exhaled slowly, her shoulders dropping as the tension began to melt.

Then his hands followed — slow, steady, careful.

Not rough.

Not rushed.

Just patient.

His thumbs worked small circles along the knots in her lower back, easing them one by one. Rhea’s breathing deepened, her body relaxing under his touch.

“You’re good at this,” she murmured.

“I’ve had practice,” he said. “You don’t exactly take it easy on yourself.”

Rhea huffed a tired laugh. “Comes with the job.”

Solo leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“And taking care of you comes with mine.”

Rhea went quiet at that — not because she didn’t know what to say, but because she felt it.

After a few more minutes, Solo set the towel aside and brushed her hair off her shoulder.

“All done,” he murmured.

Rhea turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”

Solo cupped her cheek gently.

“Always.”

She leaned in first, and he met her halfway — a soft, warm kiss, slow and comforting. Not rushed. Not heated. Just love.

When they pulled apart, Rhea let out a small sigh and shifted closer, curling into him without hesitation. Solo leaned back against the headboard, letting her settle against his chest.

Her head rested right over his heartbeat.

Within minutes, her breathing slowed.

Her muscles loosened.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

Solo wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her securely, protectively.

Rhea Ripley — the nightmare, the champion, the powerhouse — fell asleep on his chest like she finally felt safe.

Solo pressed one last kiss to the top of her head.

“Rest, baby,” he whispered. “I got you.”

And he held her until sleep took him too.

The End

TAGLIST

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @theusotwinzcom @thebigredmonster @chynagirl13 @mamis-girly @transparentphantomface @amazinggirlsstuff @spiicii @mselenalovebug @sharmelasworld @moxley99 @crazylady20 @myleelovesfood @jeysbitch @skyesthebomb @fafomama @keenagurl @chocobuttabaybee @terrortwinunicorn @mamis-girly2 @lovelyjay45 @wwestrang-fan @bossbitch-25 @xnightmarexpunkx @ctinadiva @nash2023 @ztrek808 phoebe0391 @bigbackbri @armanihouse @bibonacita23 @scorpiodivazchamp @pruningthebreeze @dwill484 @rememberingvirgo

[ambreignsfan4life]

Hello I heard you were doing WWE themed collages and I was wondering if you could do a Rhea x solo collage and a sequan sequan shuggars x sol collage please.

Hope you like

[isabella-2025]

The Ripley Effect 4 Warnings: Violence (mentions of guns, kidnapping) Threats / implied harm Psychological manipulation Stalking / being watched

Pair: Rhea Ripley X Buddy Matthews and the bloodline.

Plot: Rhea Ripley always thought she understood the life she lived—until one night reveals the truth hiding in her own home. When a single discovery shatters everything she believed about her husband, Rhea steps into a world of secrets, crime, and power she was never meant to see. As dangerous men move in the shadows and alliances shift without warning, Rhea becomes the one force none of them planned for. One choice sets off a chain reaction… and every man tied to Buddy Matthews is about to feel the Ripley Effect.

Okay so… this chapter was a lot and honestly? it needed to be. because for the longest time, there was one shadow man in this story — one set of footsteps in the dark, one presence watching rhea from the trees.but now there’s two.

two shadows. two motives. two men who know way more than they should.

and the worst part? rhea has no idea either of them are there.

so yeah… things are getting messy. and dangerous. and very, very personal.

also the song for this chapter is “Bury a Friend” by Billie Eilish — it just fits the whole creeping‑in‑the-dark, someone‑breathing‑down-your-neck energy perfectly.

so now the real question is: what do they want… and who are they really.

the gala is coming. and everything is about to snap.

Stay Tuned later today. 👀

The house was too quiet.

Too still.

Too wrong.

Trinity stood in the middle of the living room, her baby held tight against her chest, one hand cupping the back of his head like she could shield him from the world outside. Her breath was steady, but her eyes weren’t — they were wide, glassy, searching Jimmy’s face for something she couldn’t name.

Jimmy shut the door behind him, chest rising and falling too fast. Jey hovered near the window, peeking through the blinds like he expected someone to come crashing through at any second.

Trinity swallowed hard.

“Jimmy,” she whispered, voice trembling even though she was trying so hard to keep it steady. “What’s going on? Who was that man?”

Jimmy ran a hand over his face, pacing once, twice, like he was trying to burn off the panic before he spoke. But it didn’t work. His hands were still shaking.

“Trin…” he started, voice low, rough. “Listen to me, okay? Just… listen.”

She nodded, clutching the baby closer.

Jimmy stepped toward her slowly, like she was a frightened animal he didn’t want to spook.

“That man… Bron… he ain’t just some random dude,” Jimmy said quietly. “He’s a known criminal from back home. We went to school with him. He’s been in and outta trouble since we were kids.”

Trinity’s breath hitched — barely, but Jimmy saw it.

“He’s dangerous, Trin,” Jimmy continued. “Real dangerous. And if he showed up here? At our house? That means something’s wrong.”

Trinity blinked fast, her voice soft, shaking.

“Why would he come here? Why us?”

Jimmy hesitated.

Just long enough for her to notice.

Jey stepped in, voice gentle but firm.

“Because people like him… they look for weak spots. Easy targets. Families. Wives. People who don’t know what’s goin’ on.”

Trinity’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall.

“So you’re telling me,” she whispered, “that a dangerous man from your past just… showed up on my porch? While I was holding our son?”

Jimmy’s voice cracked.

“Yes.”

Trinity closed her eyes, steadying herself. When she opened them again, she wasn’t angry — she was scared. Quietly. Deeply. The kind of fear that sits in your bones.

“Jimmy…” she said softly, “I need you to tell me the truth. All of it. I can’t protect our baby if I don’t know what’s happening.”

Jimmy stepped closer, cupping her cheek with a trembling hand.

“I’m tellin’ you the truth I can tell,” he whispered. “I swear to you, Trin. I’m not lyin’. Bron is dangerous. And he bein’ here? That means we gotta be careful. That’s all.”

Trinity searched his face — really searched it — and even though she could feel he wasn’t telling her everything, she also knew he wasn’t lying.

Not about the danger.

Not about the fear.

Not about wanting to protect her.

She exhaled shakily, leaning her forehead against his.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Just… don’t leave me in the dark, Jimmy. Please.”

Jimmy pulled her into his chest, one hand on her back, the other on the baby’s tiny head.

“I won’t,” he murmured. “I promise.”

But behind him, Jey’s eyes met his — and both of them knew the truth:

The wives didn’t know.

And they still couldn’t.

Not yet.

Seth Rollins checked his watch for the third time.

Then the fourth.

Then the fifth.

Each time, his jaw tightened a little more.

“Where the hell is Bron,” he muttered, pacing the warehouse floor like a caged animal. “He should’ve been back an hour ago.”

Bronson and Theory weren’t there — they were still out searching for Rhea, following the trail Seth swore she’d left behind.

But Bron?

Bron should’ve been back.

Seth’s boots echoed across the concrete as he paced, sunglasses off, hair tied back, eyes sharp with irritation.

He checked his watch again.

“Bron…” he hissed under his breath. “If you screwed this up—”

The warehouse door slammed open.

Bron Breakker stumbled inside.

Not swaggering. Not smirking. Not the unstoppable monster Seth trusted.

He was pale. Sweating. Breathing like he’d sprinted miles.

Seth froze.

“…Bron?”

Bron braced himself against a crate, chest heaving.

“Seth…” he gasped. “We—we had a problem.”

Seth’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of problem.”

Bron swallowed hard.

“We went to the house. Jimmy Uso’s house. Trinity answered the door. I tried to get information. I tried to keep it calm. But then—”

He stopped.

Seth stepped closer, voice low and dangerous.

“But then what.”

Bron’s voice cracked.

“There was someone else there.”

Seth blinked once.

“Bloodline?”

Bron shook his head violently. “No. Not Bloodline. Not anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Seth scoffed. “So what, some neighbor scared you?”

Bron’s jaw clenched. “Seth… I’m telling you… he wasn’t normal.”

Seth laughed.

Actually laughed.

A sharp, mocking sound that echoed off the walls.

“You expect me to believe,” he said slowly, “that YOU — Bron Breakker — got scared by some random guy standing in a yard?”

Bron’s hands curled into fists.

“I’m not lying.”

Seth stepped closer, eyes burning.

“Say it again.”

Bron swallowed.

“He wasn’t normal.”

Seth slapped him.

Hard.

Bron didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t even blink.

Seth leaned in, voice a razor.

“Don’t insult me.”

Bron’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“He was watching us. Watching me. And when I looked again… he was gone.”

Seth’s smile faded.

Before he could respond—

The warehouse door burst open again.

Bronson Reed rushed inside, dragging Austin Theory by the arm.

Theory was limping, blood soaking through the side of his jeans.

Seth’s eyes widened. “What the hell happened to him?”

Bronson shoved Theory forward.

“Bullet grazed him,” Bronson said. “We got jumped.”

Seth’s head snapped toward Bron.

“You said it wasn’t Bloodline.”

“It wasn’t,” Bron insisted. “It was HIM.”

Theory’s voice shook as he clutched his leg.

“Seth… we didn’t see him. We didn’t hear him. He was just—there. And then gone. And then behind us. And then—”

He swallowed hard.

“He wasn’t human.”

Seth stared at them.

Silent.

Still.

For the first time… unsure.

Bronson looked between them all, confused and angry.

“Who the hell are we dealing with?”

No one answered.

Because none of them knew.

Outside the warehouse, half-hidden behind a rusted shipping container, a tall figure stood perfectly still.

Watching.

Listening.

Waiting.

The shadow man tilted his head, eyes locked on the warehouse door.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

He whispered, barely audible:

“It’s almost time.”

Buddy finally fell asleep.

Rhea waited until his breathing evened out, then slipped out the back door, hoodie pulled tight, footsteps silent on the pavement.

The night was cold.

Too cold.

Halfway down the block—

POP. POP. POP.

Gunshots.

Close.

Rhea froze for a heartbeat, then forced herself to keep walking. She didn’t know the truth:

Seth’s men had been waiting for her.

She was seconds from being ambushed.

And the shadow man shot them before they reached her.

She never heard the screams.

She never saw the blood.

She never knew she’d been saved.

She just kept walking.

The Bloodline safehouse was lit when she arrived.

Roman looked up first — and for the first time, there was something in his eyes she’d never seen before.

Worry.

Jimmy stopped pacing the second he saw her.

Jey straightened, jaw tight.

Solo’s eyes tracked her every step, sharper than usual.

Rhea pulled her hood down.

“What happened?” she asked.

Jimmy didn’t wait.

“Bron was at my house,” he said, voice low and shaking with leftover adrenaline. “He talked to Trin. He held my baby’s phone. He was on my porch.”

Rhea’s stomach tightened — but her face didn’t change.

Jimmy kept going.

“And then… someone else showed up.”

Rhea blinked. “Someone else?”

Jey stepped forward, rubbing the back of his neck — a nervous tic he rarely showed.

“Bron ran,” Jey said. “Bron Breakker. Ran. Like he saw a ghost.”

Solo added quietly, “He wasn’t lying.”

Rhea frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jimmy swallowed hard.

“Trin said she saw someone across the road. Tall. Broad. Just… watching.”

Rhea’s pulse sharpened.

Roman stepped closer, voice low.

“And Bron wasn’t the only one who saw him.”

Jey nodded. “Theory got hit. Bullet grazed him. They were attacked.”

Rhea stiffened. “By who?”

Jimmy shook his head. “They don’t know. They didn’t see him.”

Solo’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“But they heard him.”

Rhea’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

Roman exhaled slowly — the kind of breath a man takes when he knows something is wrong but doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“It means,” Roman said, “there’s someone else in this. Someone we don’t know. Someone who isn’t with Seth. Or Buddy. Or us.”

The room went still.

Jey crossed his arms tightly. “I don’t like this.”

Jimmy muttered, “I REALLY don’t like this.”

Solo said nothing — but his jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense.

Rhea looked between them all.

“What are the risks?” she asked.

Roman didn’t sugarcoat it.

“Everything,” he said. “Seth is escalating. Buddy is spiraling. Bron and Theory are injured. Trinity was almost caught in the crossfire. And now we have a ghost in the shadows.”

Rhea swallowed.

Roman stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“And you… you’re the biggest target of all.”

Rhea didn’t flinch.

“I can handle it.”

Roman shook his head.

“This isn’t about handling it. This is about surviving it.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Cold.

Suffocating.

Rhea finally spoke.

“The gala is in two days.”

Everyone froze.

Jey muttered, “Two days…”

Jimmy rubbed his face. “This is bad.”

Solo whispered, “We’re running out of time.”

Roman stared at Rhea — not as a leader, not as a strategist, but as a man who knew the storm was about to hit all of them.

“Then we finish this in two days,” he said.

Rhea nodded once.

But as she turned away, pulling her hood back up, fate whispered the truth she didn’t know yet:

Rhea didn’t know it yet…

but soon her husband would know her secret.

And everything would be at risk.

Rhea pulled her hood up as she stepped out of the Bloodline safehouse, the cold air biting at her cheeks. The night was too still, too sharp, but she didn’t slow down. She walked with purpose, boots crunching softly against the gravel.

She didn’t know she wasn’t alone.

Not even close.

Across the lot, tucked deep in the treeline where the moonlight couldn’t reach, two silhouettes stood perfectly still.

One tall.

Broad‑shouldered.

Silent as stone.

The other smaller.

Sharper.

Eyes glinting with calculation.

They didn’t move.

They didn’t speak.

They just watched her.

Rhea kept walking.

The taller one’s jaw tightened.

“She shouldn’t be out here alone,” he murmured, voice low, rough, protective.

The smaller one didn’t look away from her.

“She’s stronger than you think.”

The tall one’s breath hitched — barely.

“She’s still my—”

A sharp look from the smaller silhouette cut him off.

Rhea reached the edge of the lot when a voice called out behind her.

“Rhea.”

Roman.

She turned as he stepped outside, arms crossed, eyes heavy with worry he didn’t bother hiding.

“You sure you wanna walk home?” he asked quietly. “Seth’s men are out. They’re desperate.”

Rhea shrugged like it didn’t matter. “I can handle myself.”

Roman stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“Just… be careful.”

Rhea nodded once, then turned and kept walking.

In the trees, the tall silhouette stiffened.

The smaller one smirked.

“Interesting,” he whispered. “The Chief cares.”

The tall one didn’t answer.

He watched Rhea disappear down the street, every muscle in his body coiled tight.

“You’re getting attached,” the smaller one murmured.

“I’m doing what I promised,” the tall one growled.

“Promises don’t matter if she dies at the gala.”

“She won’t.”

The smaller silhouette stepped forward, boots silent on the dead leaves.

“She better not,” he said softly. “Because those men took something from me. And I intend to take everything from them.”

The tall one didn’t flinch.

The smaller silhouette watched the road long after Rhea disappeared, breath steady, eyes narrowed with something dark and patient.

A slow exhale.

A shift of weight.

A whisper meant for no one but the trees.

“Payback is coming… and they won’t see it until it’s too late.”

Rhea walked home with her hood up, breath fogging in the cold air. She kept her pace steady, unaware that just minutes earlier, her entire world had shifted.

She didn’t know the house she was walking toward was already empty.

She didn’t know Buddy had been taken.

She didn’t know Seth had already begun breaking him.

Minutes earlier

Buddy had been asleep on the couch, curled into the blanket Rhea left draped over him. His breathing was soft, uneven, still shaken from everything he’d been hiding.

He didn’t hear the back door open.

He didn’t hear the footsteps.

He didn’t hear the whisper:

“Get him.”

Hands grabbed him.

Dragged him.

Lifted him.

Buddy woke up choking on panic, kicking, fighting, but it didn’t matter — he was outnumbered, outmatched, and already halfway out the door before he could scream.

A hood went over his head.

A fist hit his ribs.

A voice snarled:

“Boss wants you.”

The world went black.

Buddy came to tied to a chair, wrists burning, chest heaving, head pounding.

He wasn’t alone.

Bron stood behind him.

Bronson to his left.

Theory to his right — injured, limping, but glaring.

They formed a circle around him.

And then Seth stepped forward.

Not smiling.

Not laughing.

Just watching him with cold, calculating eyes.

“Bud,” Seth said softly, “you and I need to talk.”

Buddy swallowed. “Seth, I don’t—”

Seth held up a hand.

“Relax. I’m not accusing you of anything.”

He walked behind Buddy, slow, deliberate, like a predator circling prey.

“I just want to understand,” Seth murmured. “Why things… don’t add up.”

Buddy’s breathing quickened.

Seth placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Why you’ve been distracted. Nervous. Jumping at shadows.”

Buddy shook his head. “I’m not—”

“And why,” Seth continued, voice dropping, “your wife keeps showing up in places she shouldn’t be.”

Buddy froze.

Seth stepped in front of him again.

Bron handed Seth a single photo.

Just one.

Seth didn’t show it immediately.

He let Buddy sweat.

He let the silence choke him.

Then he held it up.

A photo of the Bloodline.

Rhea in the background.

Watching them.

Too close.

Too familiar.

Buddy’s face changed instantly.

Shock.

Fear.

Realization.

Then something darker.

Seth tilted his head.

“Now… why would your wife be anywhere near them?”

Buddy stared at the photo like it was poison.

His jaw clenched.

His eyes hardened.

His voice dropped to something cold and broken.

“…Seth.”

Seth leaned in.

Buddy whispered:

“At the gala… she won’t be a problem anymore.”

Seth’s smile spread slow and satisfied.

“That’s why I picked you.”

Buddy didn’t react.

He just stared at the floor, breathing hard, mind racing toward something irreversible.

Rhea unlocked the door quietly, slipping inside with the same silent precision she always used.

The house was dark.

Too dark.

She frowned.

“Buddy?”

No answer.

She stepped into the living room — the blanket still on the couch, the pillow still indented where his head had been.

Something was off.

Something was wrong.

On the coffee table, a single note sat folded neatly.

Rhea picked it up.

Buddy’s handwriting.

Love you. Went for a run. See you later.

Her stomach tightened.

Buddy didn’t run at night.

Buddy didn’t leave without his phone.

Buddy didn’t leave without telling her.

Rhea stared at the note, pulse rising.

She didn’t know it yet…

But the man she loved had just decided she wouldn’t survive the gala.

Rhea stood in the doorway of her dark, silent house, the note still in her hand, her pulse thudding in her ears. Something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.

She closed the door behind her.

Locked it.

Double‑checked it.

But she didn’t know that outside, just beyond the reach of the porch light, someone else was watching.

A tall silhouette stood in the shadows beneath the trees.

Still.

Silent.

Unseen.

He watched Rhea move through the house.

Watched her check the rooms.

Watched her fold the note in her hand.

His breath fogged in the cold air.

He didn’t step closer.

He didn’t reveal himself.

He just whispered to the night — soft, fierce, protective.

“Buddy won’t touch you. I’ll make sure of it… sister.”

The wind carried the words away.

Rhea never heard them.

To Be Continued

TAGLIST 😊

@trippinsorrows @acute-crashout-jeyuso @empressdede @punksyeet @uceyliyahh @femdisa @mytribalnightmare @eringobragh420 @southerngirl41 @officialeve24 @usoinked @bossbitch-22 @madhatterbri @purplementalitybluebird @bloodlinemadness @holycollectivekitty @jstarr86 @livslunaticdamiansdisciple18 @duhitzkay380 @bloodlinesbabe93 @theusotwinzcom @thebigredmonster @chynagirl13 @mamis-girly @transparentphantomface @amazinggirlsstuff @spiicii @mselenalovebug @sharmelasworld @moxley99 @crazylady20 @myleelovesfood @jeysbitch @skyesthebomb @fafomama @keenagurl @chocobuttabaybee @terrortwinunicorn @mamis-girly2 @lovelyjay45 @wwestrang-fan @bossbitch-25 @xnightmarexpunkx @ctinadiva @nash2023 @ztrek808 phoebe0391 @bigbackbri @armanihouse @bibonacita23 @scorpiodivazchamp @pruningthebreeze @dwill484 @rememberingvirgo

[cynleegeeksout]

And Now Forever Begins - A Jhea Fic

Las Vegas, Nevada

Jeyski: 🚨SOS EMERGENCY 🚨I don care wat u doin get to room 419 ASAP

Jeyski: i mean it bro

Jimmy: damn okay

Jimmy: this betta be a real emergency this time

Jeyski: HURRY YO AHH UP

Jimmy scrubbed his hand over his face, groaning in irritation. The last time Jey had an “emergency” Jimmy was down in the hotel lobby picking up his twin’s order of flowers and underwear. Rhea hadn’t been amused when he’d kindly suggested Jey just free ball it for his meet and greet. “Damn, girl. It’s jus’ an idea. No one told ya you had to rip his unders up every damn time you’re alone.” It was at that moment Jimmy’d realized he should’ve thought before saying anything. The heat of her glare followed him the rest of the weekend.

He shivered at the memory. Rhea was absolutely terrifying for absolutely no good reason. How his brother was comfortable with her hands and teeth anywhere near his junk said more about Jey than Rhea, and he was too uncomfortable to explore what that meant. His little brother was happy, and despite how much Jimmy bickered with her, Rhea had been a blessing to his family. Hell, Naomi adored her and it took his wife weeks, sometimes months, to release the assessing and suspicious looks anytime someone new was introduced to her.

Rhea was family and not one of them knew when and how it’d happened. She just effortlessly fit in with them, and none of them would change that fact.

She’d been there for Naomi’s difficult pregnancy, switching seats with him, bringing Naomi food and crafty activities to keep her entertained when Jimmy and Jey had to leave. She was in the hospital waiting room, and then crying when she held her nephew for the first time. Rhea wasn’t even an honorary aunt, she was and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Somewhere between terrorizing both the men's and women's rosters, she’d reached out for his brother’s heart, and Jey had willingly given it to her. Rhea scared the “bloody” daylights and the nightlights out of Jimmy, but his life had been changed for the better having her in it— not that he’d ever willingly tell her to her face.

———————————♤♡♧♢———————————

The moment the hotel door swung open, Jimmy forgot everything nice he’d been thinking about.

“You’re kiddin’?” His eyes darted between the embarrassed couple, both sheepish in their matching black sweatpants and hoodies, then back to the middle of the room. “Hell naw.”

“Jim, man…” Jey rushed out, his fingers tugging on the bleached curls at the back of his neck.

“Hell no,” Jimmy repeated. “What in the freaky ass shit was you doin’?” Why he looked right at Rhea when he asked that, he knew. His brother was all kinds of weird, but Rhea brought out a side of Jey that’d make a damn concrete wall blush. “Can y’alls go to one event without breaking shit?”

“It’s not what it looks like.”

Jimmy scoffed, staring in horror at the obliterated and splintered bed frame and mattress half inclined on the floor. “Explains to me what the hell I’m lookin’ at then.”

Jey waved Jimmy into the room, then quickly closed the door behind him. “Uh…” he stammered, begging Rhea with his eyes to help him.

Rhea crossed and uncrossed her arms, feeling ridiculous as Jimmy irritably raised his left brow. The dad in him was strong and every second that ticked by was reminding her of all of the times she was lectured by her parents. “We were goofing around, and the bed just snapped.”

“Goofing around?” Jimmy shook his head. “I kinda gathered that.”

“She’s bein’ honest man.”

“Yeet,” she added, then blushed as both of the guys stared at her in confusion. “We were goofing off. I thought the bed would be strong enough to hold us if I launched myself at him.”

Jimmy tilted his head back, eyes pleading with the spots on the ceiling. “So I’m here because y’all wanted to act out Dirty Dancing or whatever the hell got the damn bed broken.”

“What are we supposed to do, man?”

“Tell the hotel that you guys are the freaks everyone believes you are and leave me alone.” Jimmy was more than done with them. He could’ve spent an extra hour sleeping before he flew back home to help Naomi with their newborn. He was up to his neck in exhaustion, missing his wife and kid, and now stuck with Freak Ass 1 and Freak Ass 2 for the millionth and tenth time. “Pay the bill and promise to not break any more beds.”

“It’s not like we set out to break it!” Rhea jumped in. She shared a tiny smirk with Jey. “It was innocent.”

“And my ass ain’t thick, please.” Jimmy almost kicked at the broken pieces, then paused. The messy sheets told another story and he’d open the window and jump before putting his Forces anywhere near them.

“It started innocently, I swear.” Jey shrugged at his girl. Jimmy already knew they couldn’t behave when left alone with a bed and enough passion to power the entire Vegas Strip. “It’s not my fault when the damn thing collapsed she bounced jus’ right against me.”

Jimmy blanched.

Rhea squeaked in embarrassment.

Jey blushed under his beard, the warmth quickly spreading throughout his body. “Well.”

“Why am I here?”

“Experience?” Rhea replied, smirking in triumph when Jimmy’s body jerked. “Did you forget Nai’s told me things?”

Jey bit into his bottom lip, chomping down on the proud smile that was itching to be set free. Big Jim could act like a damn prude all he wanted, but Jey was following the path his twin had already marched down.

“Yeah, uce.” He held his brother’s shocked gaze. “Tell us exactly how you dealt with this situation.”

———————————♤♡♧♢———————————

The night before

Gold looked so damn good on her. “Mmm.” Jey hummed to himself. He was leaning against the bathroom doorway, watching her remove her Women’s Championship belt and set it on the table.

She’d done her thing, like she’d always done when she set her mind to it, and climbed back to the top of the women’s division. Hell, the men’s division, too.

Rhea was at her best and not one damn person could possibly be her equal. Call him biased, but truth was truth. Sure, she had to work her ass off. Jey’s heart had been in his damned stomach, stewing in nervous acid juices the entire match, so her victory definitely didn’t come without a hard fight. In the end, his princess had held her own and secured the dub.

He prayed the cameras caught his reaction and it’d be in an upcoming episode of Unreal. Let the entire world see that when it came to Rhea Ripley, no one was prouder of her than him. She’d pushed past all of the naysayers, the hatred spewed at her after she won Elimination Chamber, and proved once again why she was twenty-nine and already had her place in the Hall of Fame secured.

She was that damn good, but Jey knew what it felt like to reach the pinnacle and immediately regret it.

It was lonely at the top. Jey would know. He’d clawed and fought his way to the peak of the company, only to be met with pitchforks and a severe case of depression. He hated to sympathize with Roman, but his cousin’s constant need to have a crew with him had been loud and clear. Even if Roman didn’t hold a lot of respect for him and Big Jim, knowing there was someone, anyone, walking beside him while the haters did their best to tear him down... well, it was digestible at least.

They were family, and as terribly screwed up as they were, there was comfort in it. Always had been.

During the Bloodline days, Jey’d been simmering in his own anger and determination. Back then, he was the “yes” man, getting his ass beat and embarrassed every week, all while Roman picked up dub after dub, calling all the plays. Jey wanted to be Roman. He wanted to be the one in charge, not the one getting slapped around like some damn pussy.

He’d been so consumed with having Roman’s life for himself, he’d failed to see the unbearable burden it was to be top dog. Jey finally got glimpses when he stole the Intercontinental title, but beating John Cena at the Royal Rumble had launched him into new territory. He quickly became Atlas, forced to hold the sky up with his bare hands, his arms shaking under the unimaginable weight of doubt.

Jey would be lying if he said the online hate hadn’t gotten to him. It nearly crushed him. He humiliated himself with slips and botches, letting the voices swim between his ears, reaffirming every bad thing he’d ever believed about himself.

He reached the top, but had realistically sank to the bottom of despair.

Then Jimmy dropped his chase for the United States Championship, choosing his twin over a title. Jey had needed his brother more than he knew. Most of all, he’d needed Rhea, and she’d been there, unrelenting in lending him her strength. Hugs between fan events, extra protein bars in her purse, her water jug a little heavier for him to steal sips out of. She didn’t have to say anything significant. Her presence and quiet belief in him had helped him clamp his arms and legs around Gunther. The sleeper hold that’d made the big goon tap out. He’d done that shit.

“You know you love me, I know you care…” He smiled, his attention drawn to his girl swaying her hips as she sang her favorite Justin Bieber song. Jey’d argue Bieber’s newer music was better, but she was partial to “Baby” and he wasn’t going to say anything since it still surprised him seeing her belt that song out like it was a Motionless in White anthem. “Like baby, baby, baby oh.”

“Get it, sexy,” Jey said, stepping into the room, stopping when he reached the end of the bed.

Rhea grinned over her shoulder. “I got you.”

“And your title.”

Her grin widened, pride and exhilaration making her eyes bluer. Hell yeah she got her title back. Rhea meant every word when she said the belt needed her.

She wasn’t a lazy champion. She wanted to fight and prove to her fans that she stood on the foundation she built. Rhea didn’t just walk around making empty proclamations. She’d nearly gotten bested by Jade.

Fact.

The other woman had brought the ultimate challenge, and made Rhea work bloody hard for the win, but Rhea had been fueled by the need to be the better woman, and however close it’d been, she had succeeded in taking out The Storm. How their feud went down didn’t matter, Jade had earned Rhea’s respect. Now, Jade just needed to stay in her lane.

Rhea had taken the title and she was going to make every lie spoken about her stay in the pocket of hell they’d bubbled up from. She was sick to death of having her credibility ridiculed every day by a bunch of pimple-faced basement dwellers. They sat around all day salivating over her body and then had the nerve to say she couldn’t cut it with the best.

Rhea was over them, and she was done with women accusing her of sleeping her way to the top when she was too damn busy sharing her life with the sexiest man she’d ever seen. Rhea worked hard to even get a shot at making it out of Australia, so she wasn’t going to let a bunch of critics— who got their degrees from Jokes on You University— have any sway on her mental health.

She’d woken up the day after Chamber and announced she was moving forward with her head and dignity held high. This was going to be the year Rhea bloody Ripley reintroduced herself.

“You gonna keep singin’ for me, champ?”

“I wasn’t singing for you, love.”

Jey playfully rolled his eyes. “Uh huh. So what’s I gotta do to get you to sing for me then?”

“Hmm.” Rhea turned to face him, her tongue poking at the corner of her mouth. Jey’s eyes narrowed briefly before meeting hers again. She smirked. “As your champion,” she made sure each syllable was pronounced, “you should carry me into the bathroom.”

“I dunno.” He looked her up and down, taking in her loose denim jeans and red tank top. The layering of gold necklaces had been driving him crazy all night. They had no right to tease and show off her cleavage while he had to keep his hands and mouth to himself. “This adventure ends in a bath for two?”

Rhea followed his gaze to the top of her breasts, where the longer necklace sat perfectly in the crease. “You gonna wash my back?”

Jey nodded.

“You gonna wash my hair?”

Jey nodded again, his breath hitching enough to make him have to clear his throat to cover it up. The little menace smiled, her eyes telling him she knew she was saying the right words to turn him on.

It wouldn’t do.

Shaking his head, he closed the gap between them, reached for her hands and pulled her against him.

“Oof,” she breathed out. Her black-stained lips opened in surprise, tempting him like the first time he’d ever sampled the sweet, sweet, taste of her.

He didn’t hesitate, just bent down and sealed his lips to hers, tongue eagerly searching. She squeezed his hands, somehow finding a way to pull him in closer, her tongue eagerly meeting his. “Mmm,” he grunted happily, opening his mouth to suck and taste her more thoroughly.

The kiss was filthy, the noises from their mouths were wet, squelching between grunts of satisfaction and respectful battles for domination.

“Yes,” Rhea answered his unspoken question, her right hand yanking from his. It found its way to his butt, squeezing as much of the rounded flesh she could grab. “You been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?”

Jey moaned against her. Damn it was loud. He didn’t care. “You gonna be quiet and put that mouth to use, baby?”

Rhea pulled back enough to look up at him. “I was kinda hoping you’d put yours to use first.”

“Shit.”

She freed her other hand, moving it to his backside, then squeezed gently, enjoying the way his eyes rolled back into his head. “You’re way too easy, my love.”

“Not when I been watching those boobs bouncing in that damn shirt all night.” He opened his eyes, a slow smile overtaking his face. “How long’s it been since we did it last?”

“This morning.”

Jey wrapped his arms around her back, not complaining when her nails dug into his ass cheeks. “That’s too long.”

Rhea would disagree, but it felt like it’d been an eternity since she’d woken him up with a treat before they grabbed breakfast on the way to the arena. “Yeah.”

Sighing, he kissed the side of her head. “I’m proud of you. So damn proud of the way you carried yourself and put on a hell of a match.”

Her throat tightened. “Thank you, baby.”

He kissed her again, then tugged her in for a long hug. “My girl’s the Women’s Champion and I get her all to myself.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Pfft.” Trailing his hands up to the back of her shoulders, he ignored the goosebumps dotting her skin, carefully brushing her long hair out of the way so he could kiss the spot where her pulse thrummed under her warm skin. “You did that all on your own.”

She shivered. “Babe.”

“Nope.”

“Baby.”

Jey smiled into her skin, letting her intoxicating scent fill his lungs. “I am glad I got to be there wit’ you.”

“This one means more to me than the Women’s World Championship win last year.”

“You kiddin’?”

Rhea stepped into him, surprised there was still space between their bodies, and gave his bottom another squeeze. She couldn’t help it. If she didn’t need her hands for every day tasks and work, they’d be permanently glued to his cheeks. Never in all of her years did she think she’d be an ass girl. She really hadn’t been until Ucey Jucey strutted into her life and she’d caught herself spending way too much time watching him leave the room, the ring, step out of vehicles, bend over… work out… yeah…

Jey Uso’s butt made her feel funny.

He knew it and he happily used it against her.

“I needed that win to get back at Liv and Dom. I didn’t care about the title or what it meant to be a champion. Just blind rage driving me to take back the only thing I wanted.”

“And now?”

She stood up on her toes, kissing the underside of his jaw. His face scrunched above her. Not long into their dating life, she’d found out how ticklish he was, namely around his neck and face. Jey hated it when she played with his ears, but relented by letting her kiss his jaw whenever she wanted. “Now I have everything I could possibly need. The title is a bonus. Something I want because I earned it. I want to make it important, desirable enough for women to pop up from every corner wanting to take it from me. I want it to be a talking point in the women’s locker room, you know? For the girls at home dreaming they can hold it one day.”

Jey stayed quiet for several seconds, their breaths rising and falling in sync. He didn’t think it was possible to love or admire her any more than he already did. As it was, he had to rub his chest throughout the day just to hold in all the excess trying to tear through him.

Then she said and did things that proved what he already knew: she was and is the brightest star in the sky, growing brighter by the day. Her heart was kind even if she made poor decisions. Her mind was thoughtful even when she misjudged or miscalculated.

Over the last two years, Rhea had been repairing some of the darker parts of herself, making amends with the people she had hurt. It gutted him watching her get rejected by some of the women, but she was keeping her head up and taking it all in stride. Jey prayed to reach her level of strength one day.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Gimme a kiss.”

Rhea pecked at his beard. “Okay.” No questioning his change in direction. Not when she got to kiss him whenever she wanted and whenever he asked her to. With an ease only experience had taught her, she kissed her way up to his eager lips, letting him take over the pace.

Jey was a lover and a giver, his mouth pursed hungrily around hers, tongue tracing her bottom lip, eliciting a deep moan from her throat. His hands tightened around her, a barely audible grunt echoing her. Black lipstick be damned. It was even hotter when she had her makeup on. The temptation to kiss and lick it all off, slowly revealing her blushing face beneath the layers. A new kink had been unlocked.

The taste wasn’t great, but the tangy and salty flavor of her skin made him wanton. Rhea made him wanton like some damn rake living in Bridgerton or some other thirst trap spicy show they’d binge-watched on a dare from Naomi.

Damn Naomi and her stupid dares.

Damn Rhea and her neverending supply of love and devotion for him. He couldn’t be grumpy when the damn sun and moon was in his arms. He’d never loved one person the way he did her, and he wouldn’t change one damn thing about it.

He growled and nipped at her lips.

Rhea playfully bit his upper lip, smiling when his eyes opened with a huff. He kissed her hard before nuzzling his nose in the side of her neck. She smiled wider, letting her hands settle at his waist.

“Who’s easy now?” Jey teased.

“Hush.”

He pressed his lips into her neck, happy to let his breath settle down. “Those girls have an incredible role model, sweetheart. I mean it.”

“You really think so?” she asked, shy and vulnerable in a way few people got to witness. Jey’s honest opinion meant more to her than anyone else’s.

Jey lifted his head, his eyes flashing with pride. “Kno’ so.”

“Thank you.”

“Mmhmm.” He cupped her cheek, tenderly rubbing his thumb over her smudged makeup. “Answer me somethin’.”

Rhea’s brows furrowed as her face tipped into his hand. “What?”

“How are you so beautiful?”

Surprised, she moved her lips around his name. “Baby.” She settled on with a pout and a slight kick of her right foot into his.

Instead of answering, he grinned, his thumbnail poking at the remnants of her blush. “Even now, yous makin’ me insane with how gorgeous you are.”

Rhea huffed, wanting to scold him, but his eyes told her what she already knew. He never lied to her. “Alright, Mr. Charming, you’ve earned yourself a spot in my bath.”

Jey’s thumb stopped on her cheek. “You wasn’t playin’?”

“Nope.”

“Damn.” Smiling to himself, he replaced his thumb with his lips. “Still want me to wash your hair?”

“Yep.”

“Damn,” he said again. “You gonna return the favor?”

Her fingers slipped under his shirt, moving to the small of his back. He shivered, and warm air puffed against her cheek. “On one condition."

He trailed a path of wet kisses to her nose, never fully satisfied with settling for just one. “Anything.”

“You have to carry me into the bathroom."

Jey pulled back, an amused grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. “For real?” She nodded at him, her own grin of amusement made him sigh dramatically. “I gotta carry yo’ ass into every room now?”

She dug her nails into his flesh. “It’s your legal duty, honey bunny.” He grimaced as her nails pushed in a bit further, then nodded like a good boy. “Then you can take a bath with me and the scented bubbles I got.”

He wasn’t even going to pretend to be put off by the bubbles. He’d smelt them at the boutique, and the thought of soaking in that scent with her in his arms was doing everything it was supposed to. “Fine.”

Rhea beamed up at him, her energy renewed. “Okay!”

Backing away, she ignored his frown when her hands slipped from his shirt. It would be too easy to stay there all night, trading kisses and flirtatious comments. After winning her title and doing press for over an hour, Jey had taken her to dinner and a walk around the downtown shopping area. Rhea hadn’t wanted a big deal made out of the evening. Just her man, a good meal, and a paper bag filled with new bath bombs and a bottle of lavender-vanilla bubble bath.

Jey’s treat.

Her heart had been in her eyes.

A luxurious expense Rhea didn’t indulge in often, but she wanted to top off her win with the bathroom’s low lighting and the feel of Jey’s wet and naked skin against hers. “Mmm,” she hummed under her breath.

“Say somethin’?” Jey asked, stepping around her to kick his shoes off.

She shook her head, not wanting to tell him what had her blood pumping hot in her veins. “The adrenaline’s worn off.”

He chuckled in sympathy. “Let’s get you that bath and then lots of cuddles.”

“Oh?” Rhea quickly slid out of her Vans and tossed them next to his shoes. “I get cuddles, too?”

“We’re celebratin’, so don’t be gettin’ too greedy on me.”

“Honey,” she made sure he was watching before she licked across her lips, her eyes looking him up and down, “I’m way past greedy.”

“Gotdamn.” He leaned back, his legs dipping at the knees. “Get that ass in the bathroom.”

Rhea smiled, taking one, two, three steps back. His eyes followed the movement, and the path her fingers were making down the straps of her tank, before pausing at her cleavage.

Jey’s nostrils flared, his eyes widening in anticipation.

Her smile stayed in place, even as her hands walked to the hem of the red tank and slowly, tantalizingly, dragged the material over her stomach, revealing the nude floral pasties covering her pierced buds.

His mouth opened, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. Damn it all, his woman was a goddess on earth. Jey’s neck flamed with heat, blood already rerouting to the place that was fast waking up for her.

“Goddess.” Slipped out. Rhea didn’t seem to hear him, or chose to ignore him while she finally tugged the shirt off and tossed it at him. Jey caught the red fabric only on instinct, his gaze too busy roaming from her chest to her eyes and back and back again.

She pursed her lips, a move she’d stolen from his playbook. “I’m ready for our bath now.”

“Uh huh.”

Rhea giggled. Usually it was her openly ogling him as he got undressed before bed. It was fun being on this side of it. The one teasing him. “You gotta carry me.”

“Uh huh,” Jey replied, tearing his eyes away from the offending objects covering her nipples. He blew out a breath. “Damn, this ain’t fair, princess.”

“What?” Innocently she gave him a shimmy, giggling again when her breasts jiggled.

His entire body jerked. “Get that ass over here, now.”

She backed up a few more steps, closer to the door, her heart starting to hammer in excitement. The things this man did to her, and the things he made her want to do. Be carefree, be loved without judgment.

“Baby?”

Rhea took off and launched herself into his arms. She underestimated her speed and strength. Jey barely had enough time to get his hands full over her butt before he fell backwards onto the bed.

“Holy shit!”

“Oh shit!”

They yelled at the same time.

Jey tried to roll them so her head wouldn’t bounce off of his chest, but it was too late. Her forehead knocked into his collarbone, eliciting pained grunts from both of them.

“Ow,” Rhea groaned. “That was a terrible idea.”

He slipped his hands between them to push her up. “Your head aight, baby?”

“Ow,” she repeated, feeling embarrassed. “It stings. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m tough.”

The bed made a cracking-splintering noise.

Jey lifted his head. “The hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Rhea sat up, her bottom rubbing into his crotch. He hissed, his legs kicking out in front of him. “Sorry,” she whispered, listening as the bedframe creaked. Their shifting weight unknowingly made the wood panels beneath them splinter. “Shit, babe. What’s happening?”

He turned his head to the foot of the bed, following the sound of the wood cracking. Blindly, he reached his hands out to wrap around her waist. “Somethin’s wrong with the bed. Let’s try to carefully scoot off.”

Rhea nervously bobbed her head. “Count of three?”

“One.” Jey kept his eyes on the foot of the bed.

“Two.”

“Three.” Holding his breath, he used his core strength to give one big push down the side of the bed. Rhea’s hips knocked into his in her effort to be as weightless as possible. Just the heat of her alone was going to send him into cardiac arrest. He released his breath, eyes meeting hers. “Careful,” he gritted out.

She whispered an apology. Her own desire peaking at the wrong time. Rhea’s breasts hung between them, the flower pasties impatiently waiting for Jey to rip them off. “What now?”

“Wanna try one more push? My feet should touch the floor.”

Together, they managed to scoot another inch, Jey’s socks met the carpet. He wiggled his feet until he felt confident enough that he could spring off of the bed with her in his arms. “Grip my waist, sweetheart. It’s gonna take all the gas in the tank to get up.”

Just as Rhea got her hands on his waistband, the headboard snapped, detaching from the frame. Both of their heads swiveled in shock, completely missing the fissuring happening down the side framing.

Jey rocked them, ordering her to hang on tight.

It was no use.

The bottom half of the bed collapsed, the mattress slipped down toward the carpet, causing them to slide several inches. Jey yelled out and dug his heels into the carpet, his socks putting up an admirable fight.

“Holy shit!” Rhea screeched in horror. The snapping and cracking had stopped, but her heart was violently stampeding against her ribs.

Jey squeezed his eyes closed, his hands patting around her backside, seeking his comfort place. “Some honeymoon,” he joked after a few moments.

“What?”

He opened his right eye, his lips lifting in humor. “Married my best friend three days ago, and we ended up breakin’ the bloody bed.”

Rhea stared at him in confusion, then affection. “We broke the bloody bed.”

His laugh started low in his belly, building and building until it burst from his chest.

She loved Jey’s laugh. It was every level of adorable… and contagious. Soon, her own body was shaking with laughter. “I can’t…” she gasped out, “believe the bloody bed just collapsed.”

“Dafuq we gonna do now?”

Rhea shrugged, the motion making her breasts jiggle.

Jey’s mouth fell open.

The broken bed poofing from existence.

“We gotta deal with somethin’ else first.”

———————————♤♡♧♢———————————

Hours later

She yawned loudly, the force of it making Jey’s head pop up. He smiled fondly at her, waving her over to him.

“Is my baby sleepy?”

“Not even sure I’m mentally here anymore.”

Jey bit the inside of his cheek, not daring to joke and ask “are you ever?” She looked dead on her feet tossing her dirty clothes into her suitcase. Her hair was damp from their bath, shirt and sweats loose, feet covered in a pair of his socks. As sexy as she’d looked all evening, this version of her was his favorite. “I love ya down bad, sweetheart.”

Rhea smiled sleepily, quickly zipping her suitcase then turning to meet his soft eyes. “I love ya down bad, too, husband.”

His heart high-fived his rib bones. Stepping closer to her, he paused to take in how damn beautiful she was. “Never gonna tire hearin’ you call me that.”

“Husband?” Jey’s eyes brightened, the fine lines spreading enough for her breath to hiccup. He was hers… how had she done anything good enough to deserve his love? “I’m so happy we did it.”

“Best decision I’ve eva made.” He took her hand, gently tugging her into him. She tucked her head under his chin, giving him a tight hug before leaning back to meet him for a kiss. “Love you,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Mmm,” she sighed contendedly. “You wanna put my rings back on me?”

Hell yeah he did. Jey walked her backwards to the nightstand, both of them laughing at the splintered state of the bed. Their wedding rings sparkled up at them under the light. Rhea had fallen in love with a pear cut black diamond ring set, and he’d chosen a yellow gold and black band that matched hers. When they got home, they’d have to send hers in to get resized, but they were snug enough she still wanted to wear them. Jey was already obsessed watching the way the symbol of their love looked on her.

In the last three days, he’d turned into Gomez Addams, constantly kissing down her arm until he reached the rings on her finger.

She was his wife.

He was her husband.

Rhea giggled, knowing he was lost in his thoughts again. “C’mon, love. My finger already feels naked without them.” She waved her hand in front of his face, prompting him to scoop up her rings and shyly slip them on her, their vows dancing in his eyes. He then handed her his ring and she kissed the cold band before sliding it over his knuckle, admiring the perfect fit.

“Better?”

“Much.” She stood on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. “How upset is everyone going to be with us?”

Jey grimaced. “Jim’s gonna be cool with it.” Rhea’s parents already knew. She’d called them outside the corner chapel they’d chosen, unable to go through with the spur-of-the-moment wedding without her folks giving their final blessing. Priest was gonna kick his ass and tell him they needed to speak “hombre a hombre.” His location tracker was one hundred going to be turned on for that conversation. “Nai’s gonna be furious.”

Rhea’s eyes clouded briefly with guilt. “She’ll understand. I hope.”

He cupped her chin, sighing with the same guilt. “When she talks to us again, we’ll let her throw us a reception. No questions asked.”

“Now I’m worried for other reasons.”

He shook his head, dipping down to kiss her forehead.

Together, as husband and wife, they’d survive Naomi’s wrath. It’d be difficult, but Jey wasn’t against using his new nephew as a shield… or Naomi’s love for her Big Momma.

Resolved, he kissed his wife again.

His wife.

𓍯𓂃𓏧 the end

note⁀➷ This is what I imagine their rings look like: R’s & J’s ⁺₊✧

[alphaalnitak]

Another photobash! Human Aonung showing off his boyfriends butt in shorts 😏 I tried getting a whole pile of different ai art apps/sites to make it but they were all useless and didn't work at all so I just did it myself- also turns out if you give Neteyam eyebrows he looks just like Loak XD

[artyesrian]

Im once again aonunete pilled so heres one of my redraws of human version on 10 things o hate abt you (1/4)

[porpunta]

College AU: 18-20

Neteyam, Spider and Kiri

[plaidpajamallama]

Samba OG: Jhea

Summary: Jey buys Rhea some new shoes for Vegas.

Warnings: None just fluffy fluff

AN: Just a cute fic for my birthday which was yesterday so I’m late but it’s my birthday so who cares 😝🖤

________________________________________________

Rhea was getting dragged through the mall by her boyfriend to his favorite store and her least favorite.

The Nike store.

Usually, he would go while she was taking her sweet time walking down every aisle of Sephora, but Jey was dead set on getting her a new pair of shoes before Mania.

“What’s wrong with all the shoes I already have on? They're cute.” She explained, walking up next to him.

“They're dirty and scuffed up, you can’t be walkin’ ‘round Vegas like that with me.”

She scoffed at that, seeing the teasing smile pull at his lips as he pulled her closer to walk with his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh woooow, my shoes aren’t good enough for you?”

“I mean yo’ could clean them a bit.” Jey shrugged before a smile broke across his lips as he was pushed off of her, “Fuck you.”

“Come on, Mama, let me get my woman right. I’m a good stylist, don’t hate.” Jey was very proud of the few times Rhea let him pick out her outfit; she looked good, and got lots of compliments every time, only boosting her boyfriend’s ego. But she did look good, even if she would never tell Jey that.

“Fine.” She took his hand back into hers, walking him towards the store.

They walked into the leather-smelling shop, a nice man greeting them as they passed the register right to a wall full of many different Adidas.

“Do yo’ see anything yo’ like?”

Jey stood behind her with his arms pulled behind his back, admiring the way she chewed on her bottom lip as she looked at the almost overwhelming sight of shoes in front of her.

Rhea looked around, seeing a few shoes that she liked, but not for herself, until she saw a pair of cheetah print Samba OGs with red-orange laces to match the inside.

“Those are cute.” She pointed at them, pulling Jey’s attention away from her cute face. “You like them?” He grabbed the display sneaker off its small shelf, spinning it around, letting her get a better look at how cute it was.

“Yeah, you know I’m in my cheetah print era.”

“Oh, I know.”

Every little thing that could be cheetah print without being too tacky was cheetah print in their house.

She smacked his arm not so gently, seeing his goofy smile on his lips that immediately went away when her hand slapped his forearm.

“Ow! Damn, Mama, you know you're strong,” he put the shoes down to rub his arm while she laughed, “Damn right I am. Ooooo, these ones are cute too.”

Rhea grabbed another Sambat OG, this one a dark green snakeskin shoe with cream accents and a tan sole.

“I think yo’ just in your print era, Mama.” He chuckled, taking the shoes from her, “It's cute tho.”

“I thought I didn't have a good enough style for you?” She teased, walking past him with a devilish grin that made his legs weak. Following her as if she had him by a leash.

And as if she knew where she was going.

Rhea walked them both around the shop aimlessly. Jey just let her roam as he enjoyed the view.

Rhea looked at a few other rows of shoes, but none stood out to her like the first two. Jey showed her a couple and she didn’t like them even though Jey told her, “They are classic, Rhea. Classics!"

He would learn sooner or later that she didn’t care about sneakers, no matter how “classic" they were.

“I think that’s all I want.” She said while spinning around, “You sure? You don’t want—“

“No, I don’t want whatever old man shoe you think I should get.” Jey smacked his teeth, waving her off. “Yo’ don’t know ball.”

“I know those shoes are ugly.” She retorted, watching how Jey looked at her with disbelief; his hand went over his mouth. “Take that back.”

“Nope," Rhea said it in the sweetest sarcastic tone ever known to man.

Jey flagged down one of the employees that he knows from being in here every two weeks or so to get fresh pain of Air Force’s.

“Sup, man, you wore out that pair already? I swear yo’ a different type of beast.” The young man greeted him with a dap. “You know it, but I need two pairs of Samba OG, the cheetah pack juts with the red, and them snakeskin ones in a woman’s 8 and a half.”

The man tapped away on the iPad in his hands, checking for sizes.

Rhea was looking around, rocking on her heels,

awkwardly waiting for them to be done. She gazed over the shoes with no interest in any of them.

Until.

An absolutely beautiful pair of purple shoes that were many different shades of purple, and she needed them.

“Ooo, ooo, Jey, Baby.” She slapped his arm immediately with both her hands, hopping up and down with urgency. “Baby, look.”

Jey followed her finger to the pair of Air Jordans sitting on a shelf. “You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, look how pretty and purple they are. Can I get those too?” Her fingernails unknowingly dug into his forearm as she looked up at him with big puppy dog eyes.

Jey didn’t answer her; instead, he just turned back to the guy still standing in front of them.

“Ay, man, y’all got them over there in an 8 and a half?”

He looked to the back wall where Jey was pointing and said, “The Voodoo’s?”

“Yeah, them.”

“Alight, that's all?” He looked back at them, holding the pad in his hands. Jey glanced down at his girlfriend, who had left him to admire the display shoe, happily bouncing up and down.

“Let me get another crispy pair of Forces for my girl.”

The young man nodded his head in understanding, “Alight, I’ll go to the back and get them for her to try on.”

“Thanks, Uce.”

Jey walked up behind Rhea, seeing the joy in her eyes as she held the sneaker in her hands. “Look how pretty it is.” She turned around, shoving it into his face when realizing he was behind her. He hummed while pulling her hand back by her wrist, “I see, they’re very you. I told you you would find somethin’ you like here.”

“Whatever.” She put it back down on the shelf and followed him to one of the small benches so she could sit down and try on all the shoes she wanted.

The man came back with four boxes of shoes, setting them beside her; Rhea immediately grabbed the pair of Voodoos while he said. “I already got yours up at the counter.”

“Thanks, man, we'll let you know if we need anything else.”

Rhea flipped open the box, grabbed out the purple shoes and handing it to Jey, saying, “Here.”

He smacked his lips but loosened it up the laces for her before handing it back.

“Thank you, Baby.” She took it, sliding her foot inside that fit perfectly. “Oh my god, they're so cute!”

Her black jeans flowed over, covering most of the shoes beside the toes, but she still knew she loved them.

Rhea swiftly stood up, doing a little dance in place and a spin, making Jey laugh sweetly.

“You gonna try on the other ones, or are those just 'too cute'." He teased his girlfriend, throwing his hands up in mocking excitement. Rhea was really debating throwing these shoes at his head, but she didn’t because they would be dented and they were waaay too cute to be dented by his big ass head.

“I’m gonna try on the other two, asshole.” She sat back down, trading that pair of sneakers out for the cheetah print Adidas.

She put on another show for Jey, doing a little Irish jig to show off her new shoes. “They comfortable?” Jey asked with his arms folded over his chest, “Like could yo’ walk a few miles in ‘em without me havin’ to carry you?”

He gave her a very real scenario that happened very often as Rhea insisted on wearing shoes that hurt her feet in the name of swag.

She gave him a look before answering him, “Yeah, they're comfortable, might have to break them in at the gym before taking them to Vegas, tho.”

“Alright, open the bottom box; of them fit the snake ones fit.” He pointed his finger at the light gray box, moving it in a circle.

She looked at Jey, already having a feeling what was in the box as she grabbed it from the bottom of the stack.

Rhea flipped the lid open, revealing a crispy, bright white pair of Air Force 1s.

“Now we can match.” He smiled down at her, Jey wouldn’t admit it, but he was the most corny, lovey-dovey, “it’s our 5-week anniversary” motherfucker she ever dated, and she adored it.

Rhea couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, taking the heavy sneaker out of the box, handing it to him again, batting her eyes. “Please.”

“Of course, Mama. Here.”

He loosened up the soft laces before kneeling in front of her, lifting her foot into his lap.

“I could’ve done that.” She argued, but didn’t move her foot as he slipped the white shoe over her heel. “Now, why would I let you do that? That’s like me letting you open your own door.” He huffed at the absurd thought.

Jey took her hand, helping her stand up so she could look in the mirror that was lever with their feet.

She stood back, doing another spin just to feel how the shoe felt.

“It’s heavy.” She said, looking at her feet in the mirror, then lifting her leg and shaking it gently.

“So are them dusty ass Vans you love.” He snapped back.

“They're cute tho, we look cute .” She pulled Jey into the mirror’s reflection with her, all the scuffs and creases in his Air Force plan as day compared to her new pair.

“We do, told you I would get you right.” He grinned at her with a goofy smile that made her blush and laugh at the same time.

“You want anything else or just your regular?" It was actually crazy that he had a regular at fucking Nlke.

“Nah, I’m good, you good?”

“Yeah,” She stepped out of her Air Force’s and put back on her Van’s while Jey boxed them all back up, making sure all the dust covers were folded the right way knowing Rhea didn’t care and would’ve just tossed them in the box without a second thought.

They walked up to the register, setting the five boxes on the counter so they could get them ringed up. Rhea grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her own shoulder, trying not to watch the numbers go up and up as it reached up into the six hundreds.

It made her cringe, but she felt Jey’s fingers tap against her skin, and somehow she instantly felt better. He pulled out his card and stuck it in the card machine.

It only took a minute before his arm was pulled off of her, grabbing both of the brown paper bags, not even letting Rhea lift her arms to try and carry one of the bags.

They walked out into the bright tilted mall floor. Jey smiled and watched her walk, almost skip with excitement from her gorgeous new shoes.

“Thank you, Baby, I love all of my new shoes, just need some new boots, and then I’m all good for Vegas.”

He chuckled at the mention of more shoes but said, “Alright, whatever you want, Mama, just get something blue for me, because I’m gonna want to celebrate after I beat Speed’s ass.” He nudged her with his shoulder and smirked as they continued walking.

“I do look good in blue, huh?” She brought her finger to her bottom lip, tapping it innocently.

“Fucking godly.” He leaned over, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You bought me four new pairs of shoes, the least I can do is let you pick what you're gonna end up tearing off my body at the end of the night.”

She said with a magnetic tone that made Jey wish Mania were sooner.

“Am I gonna buy that too?” He asked, already knowing he was. Rhea turned around, walking backwards, trusting in Jey to let her know if she was about to run into someone.

“No one ever told you if you break it, you buy it?” She looked at him with her bright blue eyes, which were the most dangerously sexy thing she could do to him.

“Then shit, maybe you should get two?”

“Maybe I will.” She tilted her head slightly to the side like she was thinking as they walked under the Victoria's Secret sign.

“You should, maybe a red one too.”

“Maybe the whole fucking rainbow.”

________________________________________________