wherescody

[wherescody]

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.

But more importantly… he had you.

[wherescody]

Can I ask how old you are before I interact with fics? Thank you

25 😅

[wherescody]

I just think I made myself sadder with my latest post aha

[wherescody]

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.

And this time, he wouldn’t be alone.

[wherescody]

Cody got fucking robbed

[wherescody]

I need time to recover

[wherescody]

I watch wwe for the plot

The plot:

[wherescody]

My heart, she’s a beauty

[wherescody]

My baby boy 🥹

[wherescody]

Steve: I hope everyone makes it home safely.

Also Steve: crashes into the barrier and nearly kills a dozen people

[wherescody]

I am not ready for the main event.

[wherescody]

Cole saying that Seth sold his soul to Heyman. WTF.

HEYMAN just sold his soul to SETH.

[wherescody]

I wonder who Randy Orton is facing tonight

[wherescody]

RANDY ORTON DATING HEADCANONS (2000s) (SFW)

got a request? send it over to me <3

Randy is an absolute menace in this era of him life. He's cocky, impulsive and always getting into trouble. Dating him isn't any different. It's a wild ride.

He acts like he doesn't care about anything, but you figure out pretty fast that he cares a lot about you. He’s just horrible at showing it like a normal person. Early on in your relationship, he is one for teasing you mercilessly. If you are shy, he'll make you blush all the time. He has no shame. Arm slung over your shoulders in public, kisses that last just a little too long, possessive hand on your lower back if anyone even looks at you wrong. He wants everyone to know you’re his. (And maybe flex a little that he managed to pull someone as amazing as you.)

He's reckless. He can be rather self-destructive. This means that sometimes you have to be his anchor. You have to be the one who stops him from throwing hands at people backstage, remind him to think before he burns yet another bridge.

However, this doesn't mean he would ever hurt you. Randy is surprisingly quite soft when it comes to you. He'll do things like knocking on your door at 2am because he can't sleep. He'll come and see you out of no where because he 'just wanted to see you' and then will pull you to go and cuddle.

However, you know that his temper is legendary and sometimes he does occasionally snapped at you. If he ever does, he does feel awful about it. He'll shut down a little and give you space before approaching you later to apologise and hold you close.

His love langugue is physical touch. He cannot keep his hands off of you. Even if he’s just lightly brushing your pinky finger while you're talking, he needs that contact.

He also leans towards acts of service but it's in a VERY chaotic sort of way. This involves things like picking a fight with someone who insulted you (even if you absolutely didn’t want him to). Or buying you a coffee in the morning and insisting it's because he "had extra money" not because he thought of you first thing.

Randy and jealousy? Oh boy. It's bad. He's possessive and suspicious by nature, even fi you don't give him any reasons to be suspicious. Most of the time he doesn't realise he's doing it too, he's just glaring daggers at some guy who's getting way too friendly before pulling you into his side.

When Randy loves, he loves hard. No second-guessing, no playing it cool. It’s reckless and overwhelming and too much sometimes, but it’s real. He’s the guy who will fight the whole world for you without a second thought.

Late night drives are his favorite thing to do with you. No destination, just the open road, his hand resting on your thigh, talking about everything and nothing with the windows down. That’s when you see the real Randy, the one who would do anything for you.

[wherescody]

Surprise

I got my last finals today. Just getting ready for it. Not letting me post a gif.

WrestleMania week was supposed to be magical. The lights, the chaos, the fanfare, it was the Super Bowl of wrestling. But for Y/N, it was just a reminder that timing could be painfully cruel.

Her finals had landed the same week, and nothing budged, no matter how much she tried to rearrange her schedule. She’d promised Cody she’d be there. They’d talked about it for months. But now she was stuck back home, surrounded by textbooks, highlighters, and the quiet buzz of late-night study sessions.

Cody had been sweet about it. Supportive, even. “You gotta ace those finals, babe,” he told her during one of their late FaceTime calls. “I’ll make WrestleMania wait for you next year.”

Still, she could tell he was disappointed. He tried to hide it behind his ever-charming smile and good-guy persona, but she knew him too well. WrestleMania wasn’t just another show—it was the show. And he wanted her there.

So, after her last final ended Friday afternoon, Y/N didn’t even go back to her dorm. She went straight to the airport with a duffel bag, adrenaline, and excitement bubbling in her chest. She knew Cody would be at SmackDown that night. And she had the perfect idea.

Backstage after his match, Cody was all smiles. He'd had a great segment, the crowd was electric, and WrestleMania was just around the corner. But as the adrenaline wore off, a familiar emptiness crept in.

He missed her.

He missed the way she always wore his merch, his merch, and screamed louder than the fans in the front row. He missed how she’d sneak into Gorilla just to throw him a thumbs-up before his entrance. Mostly, he missed having her around this week.

As he made his way out to the parking lot and toward his tour bus, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “One more show,” he muttered to himself. “Just one more.”

He opened the door to the bus, ready to crash for the night, when he froze.

“Hey, stranger.”

There she was, sitting cross-legged on the couch, hoodie sleeves covering her hands, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. Her duffel bag was by her feet, and a half-empty can of Red Bull sat on the little table beside her.

Cody blinked, not entirely convinced he wasn't hallucinating.

“Y/N?” His voice cracked like he was still in high school. “What the—how?!”

She laughed, standing up and walking over to him, arms slipping around his waist. “Surprise. I finished my finals this afternoon. Took the first flight out. I couldn’t miss seeing you before WrestleMania.”

He wrapped his arms around her so tightly she squeaked. “You’re insane,” he whispered into her hair. “The best kind of insane.”

They stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, the quiet hum of the bus surrounding them like a warm blanket.

“I thought you said you couldn’t come,” he finally said, pulling back just enough to look at her face.

“I lied,” she grinned. “I wanted to see that shocked face in person.”

“Well, mission accomplished. You got me good.”

Y/N leaned up and kissed him, soft and lingering, as if making up for the week they’d lost. “I can’t stay long,” she whispered. “But I’m here now. And I’ll be at WrestleMania even if it’s from the nosebleeds.”

Cody grinned, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Forget the nosebleeds. You’re staying on this bus, and you’re coming with me. I’m sneaking you into Gorilla myself.”

“Is that allowed?”

“Nope. But I’m the American Nightmare, baby. I make the rules.”

She laughed, and for the first time in days, Cody felt whole again. His girl was here. Finals were done. WrestleMania could wait for just a moment while they caught up on cuddles and inside jokes and everything in between.

[wherescody]

Finals and Feelings

I got finals this week :) got inspired

The tour bus was quiet—at least compared to what Cody Rhodes was used to. He was sprawled out on the couch in the back lounge, still in sweats, his phone resting on his chest as he stared blankly up at the ceiling.

It had been two whole days since he’d gotten more than a few words from you. Not because you were upset—at least, he hoped not—but because it was finals week. University finals. That dreaded, chaotic, caffeine-fueled war zone he’d never had to survive himself.

He knew you were smart. He knew you were focused. He knew you were grinding for your future.

But he didn’t know how to shut off the part of his brain that missed you.

You’d sent him a sleepy “goodnight” text the night before, and that was it. No memes. No random voice notes. Not even a “look at this dumb thing my professor said.” Just radio silence.

Cody sat up, scrolling through your messages with a pout he would never admit to in public. He tapped out a text:

“Hey. You alive? Blink twice if finals haven’t devoured you completely.”

He hovered over the send button… then deleted it. Too needy? Too clingy? Probably. But dammit, he missed you.

Ten minutes later, he tried again.

“Just checking in. Proud of you. Miss you. Let me know if you need anything—even if it’s just a reminder to drink water.”

That one, he sent. And then he stared at the screen like it might respond.

Back in your cramped apartment, surrounded by a fortress of textbooks, your eyes were heavy and your brain felt like mush. You had three tabs open, two essays to finish, and a fourth cup of coffee that had gone cold hours ago.

When your phone buzzed, you barely noticed it—until you glanced over and saw Cody 💬 lighting up the screen.

“Just checking in. Proud of you. Miss you.”

Your heart squeezed.

You hadn’t meant to ignore him. You really hadn’t. It was just… exams, deadlines, stress, more stress. Every ounce of your focus was pulled into survival mode. Even Cody, sweet and patient as he was, had been pushed to the background.

You grabbed your phone and quickly typed:

“I’m so sorry I’ve been distant 😞 I miss you too. Finals are kicking my butt.”

You hit send, expecting to wait. But he answered almost instantly:

“I figured. I just needed to hear from you. You okay?”

“Tired. Overwhelmed. But okay. I promise.”

Another message popped up right away:

“Want to FaceTime? I’ll just chill with you while you study. I won’t say a word. Promise.”

You paused for a second, eyes scanning your mess of notes. You were behind, you were drained—but God, you missed him too.

“You’re clingy,” you typed, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“I know,” he replied, complete with a winking emoji. “Is it working?”

You snorted softly and shook your head, fingers moving before you could overthink it.

“Yeah. Call me.”

Seconds later, your screen lit up with his name, and when you answered, there he was—hair messy, hoodie on, lying in his bunk on the tour bus with a soft smile like just seeing your face made everything better.

“You look tired,” he whispered.

“You look needy,” you replied with a grin.

“I am needy,” he said proudly, then softened. “But I just missed you.”

And with that, he propped his phone up, letting you hear the faint hum of the bus in the background as he kept you company. No pressure. No talking. Just his quiet presence, there with you, from miles away.

And somehow, finals felt a little less impossible.

[wherescody]

Happy One Year Champ <3