crystal-clear-writing

[crystal-clear-writing]

Chapter One: Challenges and Reminders

pairing: Cody Rhodes x Reader Rating: T for Teens Word Count: 5k Warnings: reader is a heel? Swearing ig and anxiety if you squint Synopsis You never thought you'd become someone people would recognize when you first started wrestling. You did it for the sport, and the fame was just a bonus for you. Always an Indie Darling, you worked every scene you could book yourself in. Every time you joined a new promotion, you bumped into him. It started in ROH when he joined as you were on your way out. In TNA, you were the women's champion when he arrived. In NJPW, you joined as he was getting ready to leave. As for AEW? He invited you personally, but you stayed after he left. But now? He was finishing his story in WWE, and you are just starting yours. Can the American Nightmare and Terror of the Industry coexist? Side notes: - There is a bit of crossover between another long-form I'm working on, Crystal is just the filler name - I know CM Punk's Twitter handle is coach something, but I don't use Twitter, and honestly, I just liked it better Banner made by me!

—

“Welcome to the royal rumble to anyone just now joining us; we are about an hour into the women's Rumble match with twenty-six women who have entered so far.”

“Entrant number twenty-seven is coming up soon, Cole; who is it gonna be?” 

“Honestly, Patt, I have no idea, but whoever it is, they still have quite the challenge ahead of them.”

5

4

3

2

1

“YOU ALL DESERVE EACH OTHER"

Soft Spine by Spirit Box hit the area, and the crowd screamed in excitement. The Titantron flashes your ring name, accompanied by a video of previous matches and an overlay of horror clips. At the top of the ramp was none other than you. Dressed in your ring gear. Black pants with a strap and studded metal, paired with a matching halter top featuring a patchwork of different materials to create a texturally interesting top, available in black, red, and silver, perfect for your edgier persona. You stood at the entrance with a devilish smirk, soaking in the crowd's reaction, before you made your way to the ring. 

“Oh my god, Cole, that's (Y/R/N)! I can't believe they are here!” That's right, Wade; the number twenty-seven spot is none other than the woman who terrorizes every part of the industry (y/r/n)!”

One by one, the women fell until there was only one woman left in the ring. Sweaty and exhausted, the bell rings, and you collapse to your knees in the ring, alone but victorious. The referee helps you stand and holds your arm high, declaring you the winner, and you nod, pointing at the WrestleMania sign before blowing a kiss to the camera. 

—

If someone had told you a year ago you'd leave AEW for WWE, you'd probably would have laughed. Not because you didn't believe them but more because you never thought WWE would ever be interested in the

Terror of the Indies.

Sure, you had been around for the Mae Young Classic and had competed in both. You were not what WWE was looking for at the time, and you were not where you wanted to be in your career. You still had so much to learn, and you couldn't gain the experience of the Indies if you signed. So that's what you did. You went out and traveled the world to achieve a wide range of experiences. 

TNA

ROH

NJPW

AEW

You joined all sorts of promotions and stayed with them until you got what you wanted out of each of them. Sure, sometimes it was a title run, but it's not always about the gold; it's about the learning opportunities you got with each new promotion. Now, you must take it to the next level, showcase your skills, and continue to improve in WWE. So when the opportunity came to switch companies, you didn't hesitate. You had expected to debut in NXT or on a random episode of Raw or Smackdown. What you hadn't expected was to be booked for Rumble weekend, and you were not expecting to be booked to win, either. Not that you'd turn down the dream debut. But debuting was half the battle. Now you had to keep the fans wanting more of you. 

YOU ALL DESERVE EACH OTHER

The crowd erupted in cheers as your theme hit. The lights came up, blinding you momentarily. Your pyro lit the stage up even more as you walked down the ramp in a saunter, waving at fans and high-fiving some, but for the most part, you had a somber expression on your face. Keeping the fans guessing if you were a good guy or a bad guy, for now. You walked to the side of the ring and hopped up, so you sat on the apron for a moment and waved at the camera before standing up and stepping into the ring. The lights returned to normal, and your music faded into the background. You were then handed a microphone. You were live. You couldn't even talk right away because the fans were chanting. 

You belong here

Soaking in their chants for a few seconds, you smile, let out a small laugh, and grab a mic from the corner that was waiting for you. “I appreciate the warmest of welcomes, so thank you.” you gave a mock salute. “I know you guys have been waiting for me, and honestly? It's about damn time I turned up. Triple H was taking his time to sign me.” 

The crowd let out a loud boo at that snide comment.

You smile and shrug your shoulders apologetically, “ok, ok, settle down. I ain't mad about H taking his time. He needed to save me for when it mattered most, you know? Look. I've been in the game for a long time, having fought a wide range of wrestlers, including men, women, and non-binary individuals. You name them, I've probably fought and beaten them.” 

“Jade Cargill,” The crowd cheers.

“Kairi Sane.” the crowd cheers again.

“Toni Storm,” the crowd cheers again. 

A devilish smirk crossed your face as you pointed to the mania sign. “Here's the thing. I came to WWE for one thing and one thing only. To take it to the women's division and destroy it. I've spent a long time clawing my way to the top, and I will not let this opportunity pass. Royal Rumble was just the start. All those women… 29 women who, on a technicality, lost to me. Don't worry, you'll get your turn to lose to me properly. Elimination Chamber, I can only hope to get my hands dirty against anyone in that locker room.” 

The crowd started to cheer and start chanting your name loudly, forcing you to take a moment and soak in the crowd's chants before leaning down to the mic in your hand. “Oh, I'm not done, ladies and gentlemen. When WrestleMania comes, I'm taking someone's title; it might be Rhea's, or it might be Tiffy's. I haven't decided yet. Just know, Ladies, it doesn't matter who the title I take; one by one, the women's division will fall. You've been warned.” With that, you let the mic slip through your fingers and hit the mat as you turn to exit the ring. 

As if you'd be so lucky to escape the calculated timing of the Women's World Champion, as the mic hit the mat, Rhea Ripley's music hit as she came down the ramp looking like a woman on a mission with the women's championship in her hands. She wasted no time getting into the ring and squared up with you, holding the title over your head with that cocky smirk the world knew so well. “You want it, come get it,” she taunts loud enough for the camera to pick up. 

You didn't back down from the challenge, and you squared up with her, “I'm not afraid of you; if I want it, I'll come get it.”

“Is that a threat (y/r/n)?” Rhea cocked one eyebrow at you as she drew closer, so you and she were practically nose to nose. 

The tension was thick between you two, and the crowd was half chanting for Rhea and half chanting for you. 

You give Rhea your signature smile before brushing past her knocking shoulders. “That's a promise.” 

With that, you stepped out of the ring and jumped down from the apron. Walking backward up the ramp, your music playing as you waved at her in a sarcastic motion. Once you hit the top of the ramp, you didn't point to the sign, but you stared Rhea down before disappearing behind the curtain. You walked backstage through the gorilla, looking around to find Your boss, Triple H, to check with him on how ratings were during your segment. You spotted him at a monitor with a headset on in the dark space. You walked over to watch the monitor over his shoulder silently until he took his headset off, signaling the all-clear to talk. 

“That was good (y/n); people like the

Terror of the Industry

persona you have. And I'm glad to finally have you officially on board.” Hunter held out his hand for you to shake. He wasn't smiling, but you could feel the pride exuding from him in the dark. 

You shook his hand with a firm nod, “Glad to be here for once. The Classic was fun, but being able to work the scene? I'm excited about the ride. Though I'm surprised you're putting me over, to begin with.” you looked up as Rhea entered gorilla and as The New Day went out. Rhea waved at you, and you raised your hand back, mouthing and hopefully conveying you’d come to find her. She seemed to get the message and walked out, either to conduct a backstage interview or grab a snack, probably both. 

Hunter glances over his shoulder at you, “You're the biggest name on the scene right now; I would be an idiot not to push you. Besides, you got the terror of the industry thing going,” he sounded amused. 

You were less amused by that and more annoyed. “I came because it was the right move for me.” your jaw clenched as you looked around. As if looking for no hope to avoid something or someone.

Hunter frowns, looking at the monitor now, “Looking like your afraid boogie man is gonna pop out at you (y/n). Don't worry, he's not gonna hurt you.” Triple H teased you, but the conversation was cut short as he put the headset back on and gave directions over the mic. 

You took the hint and headed backstage properly and headed straight for the locker room. You went straight to your locker and sat down in front of it, grabbing your phone from your bag and checking for messages, some from family, others from close friends. Your favorite was some tweets you'd gotten tagged in. 

It wasn't long before a shadow loomed over you; you could see the squeaky clean black boots and looked up to see Rhea towering over you, arms crossed, looking down at you with a disapproving look. But that expression quickly faded as she pulled you off the bench and gave you a bear hug, lifting your feet off the ground. “you could have texted me you were signing!” 

You had known Rhea for a while now. She was friends with one of your best friends, Crystal, who was also on Raw. She was a young girl with strong morals and values. So, naturally, Rhea felt compelled to corrupt the innocent child. Instead, it leads to a deep bond. Crystal introduced you to Rhea at Backlash in 2021 since you were in the States for Double or Nothing (2021). Crystal felt you two would be fast friends, and she wasn't wrong. You and Rhea were like the devil and Satan on Crystal's shoulders. But that's what made your bond with Rhea and Crystal so strong, even if you were across the globe at some indie promotion they had never heard of before. Still, during all of the talks and meetings and everything else that happened up to you getting here, you hadn't really talked to anyone about coming to SmackDown. Unfortunately, Rhea was one of the victims. 

“I'm sorry, Rhea, I had to keep quiet about my debut. I wanted to tell you, but I also really wanted to surprise you.” you gave her an apologetic smile. “But I'm here now! I finally did it, and you can now finally say I told you so.” 

Rhea let out a chuckle, rolling her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I told you so. So…” you thought she would set you down now, but instead, she just hoisted you up more. “We should raid catering while we can. The guys on this roster are absolute menaces- I watched Otis eat an entire rack of ribs by himself once. It was glorious and mildly unsettling.” Rhea set you down, grabbing her phone from her locker. “Since I know you didn't eat before your promo,” she added, walking out the door. 

You roll your eyes, but she wasn't wrong, though. “I could use a bite,” you laugh, putting your phone in your pocket, hurrying to keep up with Rhea's long strides toward catering. The two of you grabbed a quick bite before sitting down at a random empty table. For the most part, you and Rhea discussed personal topics, such as your parents and how you were adjusting to the WWE's life of travel, which was quite different from the structure of AEW, where you had been for the past three years, allowing for comfortable and easy conversation. 

Suddenly, your vision went dark. Not because you were dying or anything, but because someone was covering your eyes. 

“Guess who.” a gruff older male voice spoke from above you. 

You recognized that cranky old man's voice even if you were asleep. You turn, looking up at the one and only CM Punk. 

“Hey, old man.” you nudge him and pull the chair out from next to you so he can sit with you. “Thought you'd die or something before coming back here. Or is this the darkest timeline thing?” 

Punk rolled his eyes as he sat down next to you, “Yeah, yeah, say what you want, pipsqueak, but you're here too, so that means that we both died, and we are in squirrel hell or dog heaven. Take your pick.” 

You put on your most serious thinking face before nodding, “It's both, definitely both.” you crack a smile at him. “Where's Cry?” you looked around, but you hadn't seen her. 

Both Punk and Rhea sigh, “Probably fighting with Liv.” 

You nod, “Oh right, that's a thing, isn't it… welp, it's Cry, she knows how to fend for herself.” You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, one leg over the other. 

Rhea sighs and nods, “Actually, speaking of settling things- have you decided who you want to fight at Mania?” 

You nod solemnly; you had indeed decided that between Rhea and Tiffany Stratton. Going after Rhea would elicit a bigger reaction and be more of a sell compared to a match between you and Tiffany. Yes, if you won against Rhea, it would push you and let you go on an Auska-level win streak; you couldn't help but think about what would happen if you were to lose at Mania - who would benefit more. You would just be a win for Rhea; it wouldn't give her any sort of push afterward. However, if Tiff wins, it would help cement her main roster status. Plus, you knew you could help launch that kid's career to the moon; the push would be monumental for her. 

The silence was heavy as both Punk and Rhea looked at you concerned. 

“(y/n)? You alright?” 

You nod and smile at them both, “Yeah, I've decided that it best if I went to Smackdown for Tiffany's title, not that I don't love seeing you two every day, I just think that pushing Tiffany is better overall.” it was a sound argument. Neither of them could argue that with you. But the elephant in the room hung heavy. 

“Are you sure about this?” Punk leaned back in his chair, mimicking how you were sitting but resting his hand near his chin. His eyes were watching you, studying you for any sort of hesitation. His jaw clenched, “because if you are not even 100 percent on this-”

You raise both of your hands, “I promise it's what I want. Besides, I'm only there to work, you know?” 

Rhea frowns, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hands, as her elbows are propped up on the table. “I trust you, but if shit goes sideways- you call me. Understood?” her gaze unwavering, waiting for you to say you would. 

You nod. “I promise. Now, as much as I love seeing you two, I do have a plane to catch. I'll text you two when my plane lands.” And with that, you got up and left the catering. 

“Think she will be ok?”

“God, I hope so.” 

— 

The rest of your week flew by. You didn't wrestle any house shows since you were meant to keep up the winner of the Royal Rumble, and they didn't want you to overdo it before Mania in two months. Instead, they kept you busy with meetings with the creative team and the seamstresses about ring gear design and merchandise for your brand, all tedious for you since you hadn't had to do any of this before, or well, in quite a while. Your brand was simple: Chaos incarnate. You wore black and had a heavy goth vibe. It's as simple as that. However, when competing with someone like Rhea, they wanted you to stand out so you two wouldn't be confused for each other. Not that you two really could, as you two were entirely different people, but you went along with it anyway. 

And in the blink of an eye, it was Friday; since you had spent a lot of time in Stamford, Connecticut, you flew out to Memphis, Tennessee. The flight was easy enough, and you didn't lose anything, so that was nice. And while the show started at 8 pm, everyone who worked there knew to be there by 8 am. You were, in fact, no exception to the rule, even if you had been in every meeting they could think to put you in the last few days. To be fair, you looked like you hadn't slept in days, rolling in this early. You wore sunglasses, kept the hood of your hoodie up, and wore black pants and clean white sneakers. But you were a woman who had seen God and was ready to fight Him over a cup of coffee. So, like any sane person, you went to catering first thing and got coffee. 

You had spent the entire morning running over your challenge promo against Tiffany, sitting on a storage box for some sort of equipment that they used during the show. And when you were not working on that, you were either in some kind of meeting again, or you were Face Timing Crystal and Rhea while wandering the arena looking for fun secrets. 

You were ready for your first SmackDown show, and the show opened with Jey celebrating his big win at the Rumble; it was like a full-on party to start the show, and you couldn't help but feel jealous, but it was a fleeting feeling. The midcard was solid tonight, too, and you were right in the middle of the show, meant to pick up momentum for the rest of the show. You had been watching the monitors with Triple H in the gorilla most of the night, not because you were trying to control anything, but more because you enjoyed the work of producing a product like this. The Terror of the Industry was a brand woman who worked hard for whoever she worked for. Not that anyone seemed to mind since you had been respectful to everyone else when you were not on screen. Triple H looks up at you, nodding as Carmelo Hayes and Akira Tazawa's match is coming to a close. You nodded back, setting the headphones you had been wearing down next to him gently to avoid making too much noise, and took your spot in the gorilla for when your cue came. You passed Tiffany and gave her an encouraging thumbs up. She looked up at you from her phone, rolling her eyes at you, not because she was annoyed, but because it was like that one scene from Mean Girls, and Tiff was Regina George. You were her mom, but she gave you a thumbs up in response, so you were the winning mom of the locker room this year. 

You could hear your music start, and you made your way to the wings of the stage. The second you listened to your cue, you stepped out onto the stage, waiting for the drop. 

YOU ALL DESERVE EACH OTHER

The lights went up, and the pyro exploded around you. Your name flashed on the screen behind you. The chills that the crowd pop gave you were honestly the best feeling in the world, hearing people scream along with your music and just excited to see you. It still hadn't sunk in, but it was starting to, and good God, were you enjoying the hell out of it. You walked down the ramp in a saunter, this time truly playing the heel character that

Terror of the Industry

is. You felt bad that you couldn't take pictures with the kids who were lucky to sit ringside and ramp side, but you knew they would get to see their favorites, so you felt less upset about it as you got to the side of the ring. You hopped up, sitting on the apron for a moment. However, this time, you didn't wave at the camera. You stood up and stepped into the ring. The lights returned to normal, and your music faded into the background. You were then handed a microphone. And the crowd still cheered you like you were the biggest fan favorite they ever had, and you waited. 

Just like on Raw, The fans on Smackdown chanted

You Belong Here.

You smiled internally to yourself and the audience. Still, you hadn't made any attempt to talk to the crowd yet, milking their chants and making the 'give me more' gestures as you walked in a circle in the center of the ring, enjoying every second of it before you stopped back in the center with your hand up. The crowd stopped chanting. 

“Aw, look at you guys following directions! Thank you,” you gave the live audience a golf clap before continuing to talk into your mic. 

“Smackdown…” you let out a disappointing sigh, clicking your tongue, “I warned Raw Locker room, but it doesn't seem like anyone got the memo… I'm not here to play nice. I'm here to take titles and break spirits. And I know where I'm going to start.” 

WHAT?! Oh, the crowd. 

You shrug, “Oh, just that I've made my decision. Tiffy Time is coming to an end, and it's going to be Terror Time here on SmackDown.” You extend your arms out as you now receive the ire of the crowd, just as you had planned alongside management. Terror of the Industry was no baby face. She was meant to be the problem child. The crowd was with it, too. Through the boos,

Tiffy Time

cut through the sound system, and Tiffany Stratton stood on top of the ramp, mic in hand. The boos turned into rightful cheers for the current women's Champion, who waited for the audience to die down just enough so she could be heard.

“Is that right (y/r/n)? You think you have what it takes to beat me in the ring?” she smiles with the faux innocence she wears so well for the ring. “Because this whole Terror of the Industry doesn't scare me. It might scare everyone else in the locker room. Still, you haven't done anything here to deserve your scary nicknames.” she threw air quotes around scary nicknames and made a face to emphasize the fact she found it ridiculous. “Besides, everyone knows if you have to have some scary nickname, you're probably just overcompensating for something.” 

A loud ooooh came from the crowd; you could feel the smirk creep to your lips. 

“You're right. I'm probably overcompensating for my win record, or my title records, or, oh, here, my favorite, the years I've put into my craft. I would say I'm definitely overcompensating for my hard work and dedication,” you smile. By now, you have made your way to the side of the ring closest to the ramp, your arms over the top rope and leaning against it. “I don't need to scare you, Tiff, I just need to beat you, embarrass you, humiliate you. I don't have to prove myself to you, the sound of the bell ringing after the beautiful three counts after I pin you for that title? That's all the validation I will ever need over you.” You smile at her before pointing to the WrestleMania sign that was hanging in the arena and looking between her and the sign, “But I might as well prove it to the world while I'm at it, right?”

There was a loud pop when you pointed to the sign, as people realized that this was the title you were going after and you'd be on SmackDown for a while. 

Tiffany rolled her eyes at you as she approached the ring, “Sure, you can definitely try to prove it to yourself and the world.” She was now in the ring with you, and you two had squared up. Center of the ring. “Who knows, Cody Rhodes might be watching too. But don't let that bother you too much.” She held the title over her head to a loud response from the crowd. 

You missed Cody

You missed Cody

You missed Cody

You felt it in your bones; everything inside you tensed up, your shoulders tight, your jaw clenched, your knuckles gripping the mic tightly. You felt the corner of your eye twitch, reminding you that you had to keep calm. Keep your cool. Force yourself not to break. You simply leaned into your mic, feeling your voice shake as you took a sharp breath that, luckily, the mic missed. You smiled at Tiffany one last time and said, “Let him.” 

Dropping the mic in the ring, your music hit once again as you pushed past her and up the ramp, forcing yourself to slow your walk down because if you didn't, it could look like you were running away. Even if it was true, you couldn't allow people to see it. Once backstage, you walked out of the gorilla before anyone could say anything to you. You knew that people must have been confused, or if they weren't, they knew exactly why you practically ran out of the backstage area. You thought you had made it back to the locker room Scott-free, but at the same time, you had stopped to open the door, and a microphone greeted you on your back. 

“(y/r/n), I'm sorry to bother you when you're probably just getting ready to leave, but if you do not mind, I have some questions for you.” the voice of Kathy Kelly emitted from behind you, and for once you were so glad the camera picked up every ounce of annoyance you carried in your body, you rolled your eyes, head tilted back in annoyance before you turned around pushing the mic out of your face with your pointer finger. 

“If you knew that, Kathy, you wouldn't be standing here, taking up my time that I could be using to get on with my time.” you smiled at her in annoyance, “Listen, Kathy, the only thing I have to say is that everyone has been put on notice in every locker room, so if the women can't get with it, then they have no other option to get crushed by me.” you looked at Kathy with a dark glint in your eye. “Anything else?

Kathy nodded, “about you and your relationship with Cody Rhodes, a lot of the fans have commented on the fact you might have followed him here. Do you have anything you want to say about that?” 

A frown crossed your face, and you crossed your arms. There was a lot you wanted to say; you could have said that everyone who thought you were here for him was stupid and needed to get a life. Anyone who believed you followed Cody was a hopeless romantic idiot who didn't know the first thing about anything. And you wanted to say that, but that wasn't fair to rip off her head over something you honestly did to yourself, no matter how many times this happened by accident. Or even on purpose. So you crossed your arms, thinking of something snaky but not downright jerkish to say. 

“Even if I did follow him, what does it matter? He's the American nightmare, but I haven't seen him do much to cause harm, being all high and mighty with his stupid suits. Listen, he finished his story; I'm starting mine.” you looked back at the door, wanting to bang your head on it; really, his suits? That what you decided was a safe target? You wanted to curl up and die. “now Kathy if you don't mind-” you stopped dead in your tracks as both you and Kelly looked over to see who stopped in the hallway. 

The world around you seemed to stop moving; you felt every muscle in your body stiffen, your heart rate quickened, and your blood ran cold. There he stood in a navy blue suit, with a crisp white button-down and a dark blue tie. The tattoo of his logo, peaking out from the color of his shirt and bleached-blond hair, made him stand out in a crowd. He was holding the WWE championship over one shoulder and passing by your interview with Kathy Kelley. But he did stop, and maybe it was shorter than it felt, but for a moment, or an eternity, you didn't know which, you two held eye contact. And in that eternity, you felt seen, uncomfortably seen, every moment of your existence witnessed by those baby blue eyes. You felt your breath hitch as you tried to remember how to exist in your own body. And for as long as that moment felt. It quickly passed with him giving a quick hello and a gentle wave. As soon as he came through, he was gone. 

His gaze still lingered on your conscience.

But who is he? 

You knew exactly who.

Cody Rhodes.

[crystal-clear-writing]

New to the wwe X reader scène but I’ve got some things cooking up for you guys