Vanessa

Cody Rhodes xReader

1. Mirror selfie 2. Gym Selfie 3. Gym Crush 4. Coming Home 5. Back marks 6. Feelings and Finals 7. Surprise 8. lost at wrestlemania 9. king of the ring

I am so sorry for not posting. Life’s been a lot lately and I’m back to working full time and I’m also taking care of my nephews.

Nothing is proof read but enjoy

————————————————————

The roar of the crowd still echoed faintly through the concrete halls of the arena. It was deafening minutes ago, but now, in the quiet of the locker room, the only sound was the steady hum of the air conditioner above and Cody’s heavy, labored breathing.

He sat on the worn leather bench, chest bare and glistening with sweat, crimson velvet pants creased from the grueling battle he’d just endured. His muscles flexed subtly as he turned the golden crown over in his calloused hands. It sparkled under the harsh fluorescent lights gold, encrusted with jewels, each glint a testament to the war he’d just won.

The King of the Ring. 2025.

Your King.

You stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, watching him. His bleach-blond hair was still damp, sticking to his forehead. The faint bruising on his jaw and a raw cut near his cheekbone made your heart clench, but his eyes those sharp, determined blue eyes were burning brighter than ever.

“You gonna come in,” Cody rasped, breaking the silence, his lips curling into a small, tired smirk, “or just stare at me all night, sweetheart?”

You crossed the room in a few strides, unable to hold back the grin tugging at your face. “I figured I’d give the King a moment to bask in his glory,” you teased, settling beside him on the bench. “Or at least admire his shiny new accessory.”

Cody’s eyes softened as he turned to you, crown still in his hands. “It’s not about this,” he admitted quietly, holding up the crown. “This? It’s gold, it’s heavy… but it’s just a symbol. You know what made this worth it?”

Your brow arched as you leaned in closer, his warmth radiating off his bare skin. “What?”

“You. Us. Everything we fought for to get here,” Cody replied, his voice steady despite the hoarseness from the match. “They doubted me… for years they doubted me. They said I’d never be a top guy, never win the big one…”

“And now?” You prompted gently, your hand coming up to trace the tattoo on his neck, fingers brushing over his pulse point.

“Now?” He chuckled softly, eyes gleaming with pride and exhaustion. “Now they have to call me King.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your forehead against his. The adrenaline still pulsed faintly between you both his from the match, yours from pacing backstage like a wreck the entire time he was out there. You’d seen the hits he took, the near falls, the brutal stomp that had you nearly in tears. But he’d done it. Cody Rhodes ,your Cody had conquered every obstacle.

“You looked incredible out there,” you whispered, your hand sliding over his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your palm. “I was so scared… but you… God, Cody, you did it.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, his thumb brushing along your jaw with aching tenderness. “We did it,” he corrected. “You kept me grounded through all of this. Every sleepless night, every plane ride, every time I wanted to throw in the towel… it was your voice that kept me going.”

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. It was slow, deep, lingering the kiss of victory, of relief, of shared battles both in and outside the ring.

When you finally pulled back, Cody’s fingers laced through yours, and he held up the crown once more.

“This? This is just a start,” he said with conviction. “King of the Ring… then the Undisputed Championship… and you’re going to be there for all of it.”

“Always,” you promised without hesitation. “But right now… your Majesty needs ice and probably a doctor to look at that cut.”

Cody groaned with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “There goes the romance.”

You giggled, standing and tugging his hand until he rose with you. “Romance can wait. You’ve got a kingdom to rule… and I plan to make sure my King can walk tomorrow morning.”

As he slipped the golden crown onto his head crooked, too large, but fitting all the same; Cody gave you that devilish grin that never failed to make your knees weak.

“Long live the King,” he whispered against your temple, and hand in hand, you left the locker room behind ready to face the world, the gold, and whatever came next, together.

—————————————————————————

The hotel room door clicked shut behind you both, the quiet thud of it sealing you away from the noise, the cameras, the chaotic celebration of the arena.

You barely had time to drop your bag by the door before Cody’s hands found your waist, spinning you gently to face him. His eyes still burning with adrenaline, pride, and something softer, something just for you searched your face like you were the only thing grounding him after the whirlwind of the night.

You pressed your palms to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. His skin was still warm from the fight, the faint sting of lingering battle wounds making your heart ache all over again.

“You should be resting,” you murmured, but your words held no real protest.

“And waste the first quiet moment I get alone with you?” Cody shot back, his lips quirking with that same cocky, charming grin that made your knees weak every time.

You rolled your eyes playfully, letting him guide you further into the room. The golden crown his crown sat on the nightstand now, the jewels glinting faintly under the dim hotel lighting like it was still part of some surreal dream.

Only… it wasn’t a dream.

Cody Rhodes was King of the Ring.

And you were here, exactly where you belonged: by his side.

His hands slid from your waist to your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his forehead dipped against yours. The weight of the night the match, the victory, the emotions pressed between you, heavy and electrifying all at once.

“You know what I kept thinking about out there?” he whispered, voice low and raspy from the countless promos, interviews, and the sheer brutality of the night.

“What?” you asked softly, fingers tangling gently in the short, platinum-blond strands of his hair.

“You,” Cody admitted without hesitation, his gaze darkening with raw honesty. “The whole time… every chop, every suplex… when I thought I couldn’t take another hit, I thought about you watching. I thought about how damn proud I wanted to make you.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you cupped his face, your thumb grazing the edge of his cheekbone the faint bruise forming there making your heart twist. “Cody… you already have. I’ve always been proud of you.”

He exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to ease as he leaned into your touch.

“You’re my Queen, y’know that?” he whispered, voice cracking just slightly, raw with exhaustion and emotion. “Crown or no crown… you’ve always been the one keeping me standing.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, soft and choked with feeling. “Your Queen with terrible taste in worrying about a stubborn, reckless King?”

“Best taste,” he corrected, finally dipping his head to capture your lips in a kiss. It was slow, deep, unhurried the kiss of a man who’d spent months chasing glory and finally realized none of it meant a damn thing without you at the finish line.

When you pulled apart, your hands trailed down his chest, tracing the contours of muscle and the faint marks of battle.

“Okay, King,” you whispered with a teasing smirk. “But tomorrow? We ice those bruises. Tonight? You’re mine.”

Cody grinned, stepping back just enough to tug his shirt off, muscles flexing as he reached for you again. “Sweetheart… tonight, I’ve been yours since the second I walked back through that curtain.”

The night unfolded slowly after that tangled sheets, whispered promises, the golden crown glinting from its place on the nightstand like a silent witness to your private celebration.

And as you both drifted to sleep, limbs tangled and hearts steady, you knew this was only the beginning.

The King had his crown.

lost at wrestlemania and post wrestlemania

WrestleMania 41 was supposed to be the pinnacle. The climax of Cody Rhodes’ hard-fought journey, the victory lap for a champion who had defied the odds, stitched together his legacy, and carried the weight of history with grace. He walked into the stadium as WWE Champion and the heartbeat of an entire generation of fans.

But fate had one more twist.

John Cena. A legend. A name etched into every corner of wrestling history. And tonight, he wasn’t just a challenger he was a man chasing immortality.

The bell rang. The match started. And for nearly 40 minutes, they battled like gods at war — trading strikes, counters, finishers, and near-falls that made the sold-out stadium shake. It was epic, gritty, and emotional.

And then, somehow, Cena landed the final blow.

The ref’s hand came down.

One. Two. Three.

The moment it happened, the world erupted — history made, a 17-time World Champion crowned. Cena fell to his knees in disbelief, tears on his face, basking in the roar of the crowd.

But behind the celebration, on the canvas, Cody Rhodes lay motionless.

Not because of the physical toll — though he was bloodied and bruised but because of what he’d lost. Not just the title, but the dream. The story he’d fought so hard to finish now had a painful new chapter. And it wasn’t the one he had written in his heart.

Backstage, Y/N watched everything unfold with her chest tight and her fingers trembling. Her heart had cracked the moment the bell rang. Watching Cody lose watching him lose the title that had cost him so much to win was gutting. Because she knew.

She knew this wasn’t just a loss.

This would haunt him.

When Cody came through the curtain after the match, he didn’t speak. The usual swarm of producers and staff parted around him like he was a ghost. Trainers tried to offer him water, a towel, to escort him to medical. He waved them off. Silently. Emotionless.

But when his eyes met Y/N’s, the facade cracked — even if only for a second.

Without a word, she walked to him and gently wrapped her arms around his waist. His body leaned into hers. Heavy. Drained. Defeated.

“You okay?” she whispered, even though she already knew the answer.

He didn’t say anything just shook his head slightly, his eyes glassy but dry.

They didn’t linger.

No post-show interviews. No press. No words for the cameras. Cody walked right past all of it, Y/N’s hand clasped in his, guiding him through the halls like a lifeline. They exited the stadium quietly, slipping into the chill of the night, away from the lights and the roar of history being made.

The tour bus was waiting.

Cody climbed the steps first, head still low. Y/N followed, the door shutting behind them with a soft hiss. Silence wrapped around them instantly.

The bus felt too still, too quiet. The kind of quiet that made every emotion feel ten times louder.

Cody stood in the center of the main lounge for a moment, unmoving, staring at nothing. His hands were at his sides, still taped up. His championship jacket hung untouched on the hook near the door. The championship his championship wasn’t with him anymore.

He finally sat down on the edge of the built-in couch, elbows on his knees, his head bowed low.

And then… he broke.

Not with screams or rage. Not with slammed fists or shattered glass. But with a single breath long, deep, and trembling. His shoulders began to shake.

Y/N rushed to his side, dropping to her knees in front of him. She reached up to touch his face bloodied and bruised from the match and he leaned into her palm like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

“I failed,” he said, barely audible.

“No,” she whispered.

“I failed everyone,” he repeated. “The fans. The boys in the back. The ones who believed in me. You.”

Her heart cracked in two.

“Don’t you dare say that,” she said, her voice shaking but fierce. “You did not fail me. You did not fail anyone.”

Cody finally looked up at her, tears in his eyes, red and tired. “I couldn’t hold onto it, Y/N. I said I would carry it, for them. For him. For my dad. And I dropped it. Just like that.”

She crawled up onto the couch beside him and pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly, his face buried in her neck as he cried. Not loud, but deep, guttural sobs. The kind that came from months years of weight he had never put down.

“You gave everything,” she whispered. “Everything. You fought like hell. You gave us moments we’ll never forget. That title didn’t define your worth. You do.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist tightly, like he was afraid to let go.

“I didn’t think it would hurt this much,” he admitted. “But seeing him holding that title the one I swore I’d defend with everything I had it felt like losing a piece of myself.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But you haven’t lost me. And you haven’t lost the story. This isn’t the end.

His voice cracked again. “I just wanted to make my dad proud.”

Y/N gently placed a hand over the word tattooed on his chest: Dream.

“You already have. Every time you stepped into that ring. Every time you stood up after being knocked down. He’s proud of you. I’m proud of you. You don’t have to win every match to be worthy, Cody.”

They stayed curled up on the tour bus couch, the engine humming softly beneath them, the outside world still spinning

Inside, it was just them. No cameras. No fans. No title.

Just a man hurting, and the woman who refused to let him face it alone.

⸻

Later that night, Cody would fall asleep on that same couch, wrapped in a blanket, his head in Y/N’s lap. She stayed awake for a while, fingers gently stroking his hair, staring out the window of the tour bus.

She didn’t know what came next. Redemption? A break? Maybe even reinvention.

But what she did know was this:

They’d keep going.

Together.

Because even in heartbreak, even in loss Cody Rhodes still had fight left in him.

And he still had love. Unshakable, unwavering love.

—————————

The sun rose on the Monday after WrestleMania 41, but it didn’t feel like a new day. Not for Cody Rhodes.

He had barely slept. Even on the tour bus, surrounded by silence, comfort, and the warmth of Y/N’s arms, sleep had come in fragments. Every time his eyes closed, he saw that final pinfall. The referee’s hand hitting the mat. The crowd exploding for Cena. And the championship slipping from his grasp again.

It played on a loop in his mind like some cruel joke his subconscious refused to stop telling.

He sat on the narrow bench across from the kitchenette, still in the same hoodie and sweatpants from the night before. His coffee had gone cold in his hands. He hadn’t taken a sip. He just sat there, staring through the tinted windows at the parking lot, numb.

Y/N moved quietly through the bus, giving him space but never straying far. She knew he needed stillness. And when he was ready he’d come to her.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen: Bruce from WWE.

She hesitated, then answered softly, stepping toward the back of the bus.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m with him… No, he hasn’t said much. He didn’t sleep… No. I don’t think he’s in the right place to talk tonight, Bruce. I’m sorry.

She listened for a while, her face softening as she nodded. Then, she peeked around the corner of the bus, watching Cody.

“Let me ask,” she said, and approached him gently. “Hey, baby?”

He didn’t respond at first. His gaze didn’t shift from the window.

She crouched next to him, brushing his knee softly. “Raw wants to know if you’ll come in tonight. Just to talk to the fans. Not wrestle. Just… speak.”

He blinked slowly, then let out a bitter, joyless laugh.

“They want me to go out there? Now?” His voice was flat, wounded. “They want me to walk into that arena, look those people in the eyes, and act like I’m okay?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away.

“I can’t do that,” he muttered. “I can’t stand in that ring and pretend to be proud of losing everything I worked for.”

She reached for his hand. “No one’s asking you to pretend. But… they love you, Cody. They still do.”

He looked at her then, eyes rimmed with fatigue and grief. “But what if I don’t love me right now?”

The words hit the air like ice water.

Y/N sat beside him, pulling his hand into her lap, holding it tight. “Then I’ll love you enough for both of us. And when you’re ready to face them, they’ll still be there.”

Cody swallowed hard, his jaw clenching.

“I said I would finish the story,” he whispered. “I told them it would end with me still standing. I made them believe. And I couldn’t do it. What does that say about me?”

Y/N’s voice was soft but certain. “It says you’re human. It says you gave everything you had and still stood tall even when the world took the ground out from under you. That’s what they believed in not just the title, you.”

He leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees, his hands now tangled in his hair. “If I go out there tonight, they’ll see it. How broken I am.”

She brushed her fingers down his back, grounding him. “Then let them. Because even broken, you’re still worth loving. Still worth cheering for. And someday, you’ll stand in that ring and finish that story for real.”

Cody shook his head slowly. “I can’t today.”

Y/N didn’t push. She simply nodded and leaned against him.

“That’s okay. Then we take today for us. Just us.”

⸻

Later That Afternoon

Cody hadn’t moved much. He dozed off briefly, his head in Y/N’s lap as she scrolled through her phone. The world was already reacting Cena’s 17th title reign was plastered on every sports page. Headlines. Tweets. Debates. Commentators calling it the greatest moment in Mania history.

But her feed was also full of Cody.

“Thank you, Cody.”

“Still our champion.”

“The American Nightmare forever.”

Y/N didn’t show him the posts, not yet. But she saved them. Every single one.

He woke up slowly, eyes squinting against the filtered sunlight streaming in through the curtains.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

He sat up, groaning a little as his muscles protested. For a while, he just stared at the carpet, then looked over at her.

“You didn’t go to Raw either?”

“Nope,” she said softly. “Wherever you are is where I’m supposed to be.”

Cody gave a weak smile. “You’re too good for me.”

“Maybe. But lucky for you, I’m stubborn.”

He chuckled a real one this time. It was faint, but it was there. A crack in the grief. A sign of life.

She stood and offered him her hand. “C’mon.”

“Where?”

“Nowhere big. Just outside. Fresh air. Walk a bit. We can avoid the crowd.”

He took it.

⸻

Evening

They sat on a quiet bench in a grassy corner behind the venue lot, where most people wouldn’t think to look. The hum of Raw happening inside the arena was distant. Just sound and vibration. Not pain. Not pressure.

Cody sat beside Y/N in silence, watching the sun set behind a nearby building. The sky turned orange and pink peaceful, like a painting.

“Do you think they’ll forget about me?” he asked quietly.

“No,” she said without hesitation. “You left a mark. One match won’t erase that.”

He nodded slowly. “Part of me feels like I have to disappear for a while. Just… go off the map.”

She turned to face him fully. “If that’s what you need, we’ll go. Anywhere you want. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

He looked at her, tears rising again.

“I don’t deserve that kind of love.”

“You do,” she whispered. “And I’m going to keep reminding you until you believe it.”

He broke again. Softer this time. No sobs. Just tears sliding down his cheeks as he nodded and leaned into her shoulder.

And she held him, just like she had the night before. Not trying to fix him. Not trying to rush the healing. Just being there, unwavering.

⸻

That night, they didn’t watch Raw. They stayed on the bus, cooked a simple dinner, and curled up under a blanket. Y/N read him some of the fan tweets. The kind messages. The photos. The ones that said, “We believe in you.”

And for the first time in 24 hours… Cody smiled without sadness.

The loss still hurt. The title was still gone. The story was unfinished.

But maybe it wasn’t over.

Not yet.

And when it was time when he could breathe again he’d rise.

The plot: