#nick foles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

teamchasezwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Second Chance (1/3)

Word Count: 3,724

Characters: Damian Priest/Unnamed OC

Genre: Romance

Tags: Anxiety, Waffling, Creative Licensing on Real Events, Stars Align, Kissing

Summary: Some people are worth a second chance. (A Wrestlemania XL Night Two fic)

Author’s Note: This was initially supposed to be a simple one shot. Then it morphed into a second part in Damian’s POV. Then finally a 3rd part. An error on my part with writing Damian not involved in night 1, but I had already written part 1 and most of part 2 before I realized and liked it too much to change. I did watch Damian’s doc but any errors in his road to WWE timeline are on me and creative licensing. This is written with an unnamed female lead as I tried to make it x reader, but I’m not very good at writing in the first person.

Part II Part III

The atmosphere was electric. Lincoln Financial Field held over sixty seven thousand screaming Eagle fans weekly during the fall. Usually she was one of those Eagle fans screaming herself horse from way up in section 243 at the coach to run the damn ball. She was still smarting over their epic collapse five months later when she thought they were Super Bowl bound finally ready to take the Chiefs down but alas…

She shut down that anger like she had earlier when she felt the need to raise her finger at the stadium as she was walking in. Of course across the parking lot, Citizen’s Bank Park loomed where the Phillies went down with a whimper in the playoffs. In order to save her sanity, she didn’t even look toward the Wells Fargo Center. She did however stop to take a photo with the Nick Foles statue.

Thank God for St Nick.

Or Big Dick Nick.

Tonight wasn’t about sports teams and their ability to continuously raise your hopes only to dash them in the end.

No.

Tonight was about a different hope. Though her heart still had the ability to be broken into pieces like in playoff ball.

With sports, there was always next year.

With love you tried to catch that flame and ride the magic. Hopefully forever. When the magic ended with love, hearts moved on to someone else.

With sports teams you went down with them to the bitter end.

“Jesus Christ I hope it’s warmer tonight.”

She looked to the seat next to her where her sister stood in front of the steel folding chair with the Wrestlemania XL logo. She held her phone in the air, taking a video of the crowd, the music, and the atmosphere.

“If it’s like it was last night, I’m leaving.”

“The fuck you will!” Her sister snapped at her as her fingers tapped over the phone screen. No doubt posting the video to her Instagram. “Do you know how much Bill spent on these tickets?”

Bill, her sister’s second husband. Bill, who was nearly twenty years older than her sister. Bill, who worked in the financial district in New York City and made it his mission to spoil her sister. She was sure her sister loved him in a safe, older man kind of way. He provided for her, gave her security. Random trips to Italy. After her disaster of a marriage to her first husband, she deserved it.

“I nearly lost a toe last night!”

The stadium wasn’t covered like most NFL teams seem to be learning toward when trying to get their cities to foot the bill for a new one. The Linc was open aired as they came. It provided views of beautiful sunsets and planes coming into land at the airport just down 95. Depending on the side you sat on and the time, the sun roasted you alive. It also rained on you if you weren’t lucky enough to have a seat under a cover. It also provided no shelter from the cool temperatures April always brought to the Northeast. Where winter liked to hang on as long as possible before it released its grips to spring and the blistering summer.

“I think I saw some Cody Rhodes socks at the merch tent.”

She side eyed her sister not finding the comment funny. She made sure to bring a pair of gloves and a toboggan. She almost brought a throw as well, but decided not to. If the second night was anything like the previous night, she would be spending more time on her feet than huddled in her chair.

“Probably just as well,” her sister grinned. “You shouldn’t be wearing someone else’s merchandise.”

She was saved at having to reply when the opening festivities started. As the National Anthem was performed, she barely heard the words, mouthing in reflex with her hand over her heart. The crowd cheered at the conclusion as music hit the speakers. Inside the ring, a pretty black woman smiled over the crowd as she announced the special guest, Stephanie McMahon.

Nerves built in her stomach and continued to roll and twist into knots as the first wrestler, Drew McIntyre made his entrance with bagpipe players lining the stage. Their sound echoed through the stadium. It wasn’t until the stage filled with members of the Philadelphia String Association members and their instruments and outlandish outfits did she lean over to her sister.

“I think this was a bad idea.”

She was nearly drowned out by the music on stage and the crowd singing rolling “ohs”. She learned last night it was just what they did with the next wrestler.

“What?” Her sister’s head snapped toward her as she looked away from the stage.

“I said,” she paused as the crowd roared with cheers. Looking up at the big video screen above the ring, she saw Seth Rollins made his appearance. Dressed outlandishly in an outfit that fit right in with the Mummers surrounding him. “This was a bad idea.”

“I heard that. I was just giving you time to change it.” Her sister pursed her lips in annoyance. Or disappointment. She wasn’t sure which. Being ten years younger, she was used to receiving those looks throughout her life from her sister.

“Be real.” She sighed.

“I am.” Her sister turned away from the ramp Seth was currently making his way down. “You were excited when I told you I got tickets.”

“I was. I am…” She insisted.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Look around Sis,” she waved her hand around her acknowledging the thousands of people packed inside the stadium, the cheers, the lights. “You think with all this, he’ll notice me? Let alone recognize me? It’s been so long…”

Ten years.

Ten years since the man she thought she’d marry, create a family with, would love forever, up and left her.

‘This isn’t working anymore.’

The words crumbled her heart and stole her breath. She’d been imagining her future with him and he was leaving her behind.

“You never know.” Her sister shrugged. “You caught his eye before. Who’s to say you won’t catch it again? Besides, I’m tired of listening to you wallow after another failed date with yet another guy who failed to measure up to Luis.”

Well…

She turned away from her sister to stare at the ring where Seth and Drew were currently locked together in their match for the championship belt Seth currently held. From the rumors she read online from various social media sites, Luis – Damian Priest – was going to cash in his Money in the Bank briefcase that assured him a title match.

“It has to work.”

She turned her attention back to her sister. “Why’s that?”

“These tickets were cheaper than getting that tattoo removed.”

Ignoring her smirk, she looked down at her left hand. There, on the inside of her ring finger over the second knuckle toward the third, stood Luis’s name written in a delicate script font. The tail of the s making a small heart.

“Can’t imagine any man wanting to slide a ring over another man’s name,” her sister said dryly.

The tattoo had been part of a drunken night nearly three years after their break up. Her roommate at the time was an aspiring tattoo artist. She wasn’t sure what led to the tattoo – the night remained a black hole in her memory. She woke up the next morning on the living room floor with the kind of hangover she hadn’t experienced since her first year of college. The pain in her head matched that on the pain on her hand where a fresh tattoo sat on redden skin.

Concealer became her friend. She carried it around like chapstick. One in her purse. Another in her car. The desk at her old job. A tube in the drawer of her bedside table. Even one laying on the coffee table in her apartment. All to hide the name of the man she never got over. Even now, the ink was hidden beneath a layer of classic concealer.

Her mind wandered during the match thinking about Luis and how long it’s been since they shared the same space. How different he looked in his appearance now compared to then. The cut of his hair. The trimmed facial hair covering his cheeks. The numerous tattoos covering his arms, chest, and back. His muscles more defined and cut. The added muscle weight making him appear bigger than before.

The ringing of the bell drew her attention back to the match. Drew McIntyre was standing victorious in the ring with the gold championship belt hoisted high in the air with one hand. The crowd roared in celebration. She could see a dejected and limping Seth Rollins making his way back up the ramp sans the belt he wore to the ring not that long ago.

She couldn’t help but feel letdown, a sagging feeling of sorrow eclipsing her body while thousands cheered in happiness around her.

This was supposed to be when Damian cashed that briefcase in. But he never appeared. Did all the articles and tweets she read get it wrong? How could Damian make an appearance now? The match was over. Drew won. In a second or two, Drew would leave the ring and make his own way back up the ramp. The show would continue. The window to see Damian gone.

Her thumb unconsciously rubbed over the inside of her finger, right over Luis’s hidden name.

Disappointment set in. She knew it was a chance nothing would happen. Even if Damian came out, there was no guarantee he would see her anyway. Though she would be terrified standing in the ring with thousands of people staring at her, she imagined for him the people all blurred together. Seeing them but without seeing them.

“Oh Damian is definitely cashing in!”

She tuned an ear to the conversation behind her. It took everything she had to not turn around and pepper the person with questions. How did he know!

“Oh yeah!” Came a laughing response. “He’s spending way too much time fucking with Punk.”

The video screen above the ring showed Drew now standing on the announce table. She couldn’t make out the words, but she bet it was trash talking a guy sitting in the office chair wearing a headset. She didn’t know who he was. Her deep dive into the briefcase and Damian didn’t include other wrestlers and whatever beef they may have with each other.

The Scottish music cut off as Drew was knocked off his feet. The crowd went wild as they stared chanting “CM Punk” as the wrestler continued his beatdown of the new champion.

The lights on the housing area, lining the ramp, and at the top of the ramp switched from green to purple at the same time music blared. The crowd lost their minds and she swore she felt the ground moving.

“I told you!” Her sister grabbed her arm, her fingers squeezing tightly.

A blur of purple and black ran down the ramp in the midst of cheers. She found it hard to see with everyone standing, dancing around, and their arms in the air. She looked up at the screen and her heart stopped.

Damian.

She watched the whole sequence without breathing. Jamming the briefcase into Drew’s head. Handing off the briefcase to the referee. Picking up a beat down Drew from the ringside floor and tossing him into the ring. Him climbing into the ring and the ref ringing the bell.

It felt like it lasted hours.

Damian lifted Drew high above him with one arm and slammed him to the mat before falling over him in a pin.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bell rang and crowd’s roar strengthened once again.

“And here is your winner! And NEEEEEEW world heavyweight champion… Daamienn Preeeist!”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched Damian on the TV high above the ring. Holding the title in one hand with both hands above his head in victory. He then flexed his arms down and let out a roar, the sound buried by the fans cheering.

“I told you!” Her sister shouted again, her hand still gripped her arm and she shook her with excitement. “Get over here!”

She was practically thrown into the fencing that created a barrier between the seats and the ramp. It moved slightly but she was able to regain her footing. Fans around her all stormed to the fence as Damian rolled from the ring. They screamed and shouted his name.

He appeared at the bottom of the ramp and she got her first unobscured view of him. He looked larger than life. The black leather gear he wore molded to his body like a layer of skin. His hair – much fuller than photos she’d seen of him – hung all over his shoulders in thick braided dreads, complete with purple and red scattered throughout.

Her heart thumped wildly but she was frozen. This was different. This was Damian. Not Luis. She didn’t know Damian. How could she expect him to react at seeing her? It’s been ten years… she looked different just like he did. He was a whole new person! He broke up with her for a reason.

This isn’t working out…

“What the fuck…”

She heard her sister mumble, but she was struck mute, she could only watch as he stalked up the ramp. The confidence she never knew he had exuding off him in waves.

“Damian I love you!”

Her eyes widened at the scream next to her. Her face grew warm against the coldness in the air. She could only watch as Damian’s eyes drifted from the top of the ramp toward the side… in her direction.

She could tell he was about to smile or wink in the direction of the proclamation. He’d probably done it hundreds of times. When their eyes met, his face morphed into shock. Recognition dawned in his eyes. She watched as his steps faltered.

“Smile you fucking idiot,” her sister elbowed her sharply.

She smiled.

At least she hoped.

It didn’t appear she had any control over any of her muscles at the moment. Screams grew louder around her and bodies jostled one another. She blinked and Damian was right there in front of her. His chest heaved with heavy breaths from the exertion and complete pandemonium. A slick sheen covered his bare arms. Taller than she remembered. Though his dark eyes – popping from the thin line of eyeliner outlining them – were the same. They stared directly into her eyes and deep into her soul. The crowd noise faded – muted in the background. The people around them blurred. It was just him.

“Luis…” she whispered and she wasn’t sure he heard until his eyes flared.

Then she was in his arms wrapped up tight. The corner of the belt dug into her shoulder where he still clutched it in his hands. The other end brushed against the back of her thigh. She loved being in his arms. His hold so tight offering a sense of security and protection. A feeling of home washed over her. Warmth radiated from him and she pressed her hands against the satiny spandex of the top of his ring gear. With a shuddering sigh, she relaxed into him.

“Fuck…” his deep voice reverberated through her body. She felt him tuck his head down, hiding his face from view. “I gotta go…” the words caused her arms to tighten as if she could keep him there forever. “Please stay. I’ll…fuck…just don’t go.”

She nodded her head and felt the squeeze of his arms one more time before he slowly pulled away. Her eyes met his, swirling with emotions. The dull roar of the crowd around them threatened their bubble.

In a quick movement, his hands cupped her face. His fingers were still curled around the black leather of the belt strap. The back of his fingers pressed into her check. His head lowered and he kissed her firmly and quickly. His lips disappeared in a flash and with a soft caress of his thumb over her cheek, he was gone leaving her breathless.

She watched as he stalked up the stage, the belt in hand to a group of people at the top. She recognized them from photos as part of the group Damian was in. He met them with his arms stretched wide. Two members dressed in black hugged him from either side, while another in bright white shoes jumped up from the front. Finally, a woman joined the foray. They bounced up and down as they all hugged. A moment later they turned to face the crowd, Damian standing tall in the middle. He raised his championship belt up high above him in both hands while the others raised their hands in victory. The crowd roared in celebration.

Then they were gone.

“So…”

She turned her attention from the empty ramp to her sister. Her sister had her arms crossed with a smirk on her face. One eyebrow arched and her head tilted as if to say ‘told you so’.

Her checks flushed with embarrassment as she took in the faces of the people around her. She ducked her head and moved back to her seat stuffing her hands in her coat pocket to hide the shaking. This time it wasn’t from the cold. She wasn’t feeling the low temperatures anymore. A warmness wrapped around her from the moment her eyes met Luis’s. She licked her lips, drawing his taste.

“Here,” a wipe came into view. She looked up to see her sister holding out a white towelette with one hand while the other was pressing the flap down to close the travel package of make-up remover wipes.

“What’s this for?” She stared at it questioningly.

“You’re obviously not gonna be needing that concealer anymore.” Her sister smirked and pressed the towelette in her hand.

She clutched the damp wipe in her hand. Her skin still tingled where he touched. She could still taste him on her lips from even the quick kiss they shared. She tucked the wipe into her coat pocket not making the move to reveal the finger tattoo.

“Chicken,” her sister murmured as the crowd jumped to their feet as the music for the next match started. “What did he say?”

She looked around, but the attention had diverted back to the ring. She still leaned closer to her sister just in case. “He told me to stay. Not to go.”

“Like stay here?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess?”

As the night grew longer, nerves settled in her belly. The voice in her head grew louder.

‘He’s not coming.’

‘He was just being nice.’

‘You caught him off guard.’

‘He doesn’t want you anymore.’

It took everything she had to keep herself planted in her seat. Not to beg her sister to leave. To go back to the hotel and remember how his lips felt against hers. The memory of his arms around her.

“Miss?”

She almost missed the call, zoned out watching Logan Paul, who she recognized from YouTube, wrestle in the ring. Next time she couldn’t sleep, she would Google how a YouTube star not only ended up in a wrestling match, but was a champion.

Her sister nudge her breaking the zone she was in. Catching her eye, she followed the nod toward the barricade where a man stood motioning for her. Dumbfounded she pointed to herself. At the man’s emphatic nod, she stood and slid past her sister to the barricade.

“Yes?”

“You with Damian?”

“Well…I….” She stuttered until a kick to her foot caused her to blurt, “yes!”

“Here.”

The man handed her a folded up piece of paper ripped from a note pad. Before she could question, he was gone. Sneaking along the barricades ducking out of view.

“What is it?”

“A piece of paper.” She answered sitting back in her chair. The paper pressed tightly in her fingers.

“No shit,” her sister rolled her eyes. “What the fuck does it say?”

“I…I don’t know.” She stared at the white paper. Void of anything on the outside. Schrödinger’s cat stared her in the face. The words on the inside of the paper could be everything or nothing at all.

“Want me to read it?” Her sister offered.

“No. Just…” She pulled her closer to her as she turned her body toward her sister. Their knees touched and their bodies hunched to create a makeshift wall to block prying eyes.

She took a breath and slid her finger in between the flap and pressed it open. Slanted chicken scratch she knew so well greeted her.

I can’t get away. Meet me at Embassy Suites tonight??

The note ended with his phone number and was signed with just an L.

“The cost of these tickets were worth it after all.” Her sister elbowed her in a teasing manner.

“You don’t know that.” She read the note again, memorizing the number; different than she remembered. “He might just want to catch up.”

Her sister sent her a look. “Right. The kiss he planted on you was just to catch up.”

She blushed as a smile toyed with her lips. She folded the paper back along the crease and stuffed it in her coat pocket keeping it in her grasp.

“Are you gonna go?”

“How? We’re heading in the opposite direction.”

“I can drop you off.”

“Then I’ll be stuck there.”

“Would that be so bad?” Her sister wiggled her eyebrows.

No. Being stuck with Luis at a hotel wouldn’t be bad. Not at all.

“Who cares about logistics,” her sister continued. “I will drop you off after we leave here or you can take me back to your place and come back down. It doesn’t matter. Text him right now and tell him you’ll be there.”

She mulled over her sister’s words. She was right of course, not that she’d share that tidbit of information with her. Being able to be in the same space as Luis again? She couldn’t turn it down.

As the music hit for the final match of the night, she pulled out her phone.

‘I’ll be there.’

Next Chapter

#damian priest fanfic #wwe fanfiction #damian priest #damian priest x oc #damian priest x reader #wwe fanfics #wwe fanfic

56 notes · View notes

bisexual-yuri · 7 months ago

Text

“Can’t you tell?”

Busdriverr gets credits for songs he ain’t on

And here’s another one

I wanna meet LA’s native son

Pentecost, bitches, LA bus driver’s got bitches

Can’t Messais tell I won’t say it

Record it, I’ll deny it

That shit never left my mouth

Revolve it

Solve it

Sit the fuck down, clown

You and me, you legit now

Sara can’t spell

Reagan, really?

Ali

Wants to join hell fire club, no city

Cats fucking in the back alley

Yowling, screaming, towely

Ryan was his name, water polo Ricky

Who gave Scott his hickeys?

It’s a killer deep cut from her Binghamton days

She got degrees and dogs that was strays

Demon days, gorillaz fans fundamentally

Logan and Elliott, exes perpetually

Remember me

Ali wants to join the hell fyre club

White girl, did you heard? Crazy

Show all signs of blender brain

ECMC psych ward vet, she clinically insane

Jacket girlie, Tom Brady, 11 + 12

Hell Fyre, Los Angeles, homie

Maybe finally Brooklyn was the first place she moved

She’s the one who does what behooves her

Everyone scrambles to claim her

Nobody can tame her

Her name is Allison dot FYRE

Buffalo Baby

Seven one sixty

Misty

Water Pokemon training

Lucky lucky licky

Mathy

Talented lady

Pretty baby

Kids, if you want to piss off your parents

Show interest in imaginary places

Invest in real estate in art time

Tell your mother that you’re fine when you’re not

Run the snot

Ali wants to join the hell fyre club

White girl, did you heard? Crazy

Show all signs of blender brain

ECMC psych ward vet, she clinically insane

Chris went to Auto, what does that even MEAN

She had mono once, almost ruptured her spleen

Rugby player in dresses, Chris, you’re just preening

Ali has a huge crush on you and you’re dreaming

You heard her screaming

Ran away, reported her, you’re reaming her out in the office

Snitching to Santos

Sorry Chris Chris, you’ll always be haunted by this ghost

Of what might have been

If you had trusted, showed better to love to your friend

It’s the end of you and me and maybe your career

Sara’s headed to Seattle, it’s all your fault I fear

She stood up for herself and you bit at her rear

Ali wants to join the hell fyre club

She can back that shit up

Fundamentally

Upstate Macy’s, rob sonic pep rally

References sadly

She’s in love, madly

Two, maybe three Rafaels

It’s a malady

R names, at least she’s over Ricardo now

Tragedy

He got jokes folks, some bitch named Ortiz

BUSDRIVER be friends with Ian and Mikey

Yikes-y!

I gotta get my own posse

Hell fire, Aly’s on fire wait wasn’t it Ali with i latín?

Latina, honra la familia

Trilingual cunt

Wait, ain’t she poly?

Glot, she gotta talented tongue

Free for the year

Mung

Bean girl

Hehe beans

What does she MEAN?

Ali wants to join the hell fyre club

She can back that shit up

Fundamentally

References sadly

She’s in love, madly

It’s a malady

Young

Black men love her

Claim her, want to tame her

In Delaware park, Chris and M man

Guitar player shit, like hot damn

Suckin’ dick and having small hands

Rafael from Disco Elysium, Harrier

Funny, I got that tattoo

I’m not no fuckin Boston Terrier

Not from New England, bitch

I’m no Masshole

Calling Nate Pinkham, asshole

Carousel & Windmills, Nick Foles

Tyler bass kicks a mean field goal

NFL References again

He aint even like football like that

He? That’s Ali, she’s all that

Ali wants to join the hell fyre club

She can back that shit up at the drop of a hat

What, Ali’s a massive fan!

She’s always got ten backup plans!

Bro, her name’s Sae Ra, she’s no man

Not a girl bro, Ali’s just Billscord’s biggest ho

Chris just doesn’t know when to say no

Moderator Rizz, love her, poor pages

She’s a magic user, really, mages

Wedding bells, Discord van

Cro-magnon man, don’t be a fan

She ain’t like that man, you just ain’t know her man

Ali wants to join the hell fyre club

She can back that shit up

Ali’s a teacher, no preacher, ban

Hammer swinger and detective

She’s a momma bear, real protective

Jonathan fucked her young, she’s reactive

You prey on her babies, she’ll cut a shiv

Shank you in jail bitch, Ali ain’t play

You gotta watch what you say

Ali wants to join the hell fyre club

She can back that shit up

Shell bottom from the power

Rachel’s guilty, she feels filthy

Jonathan turned her against me

Maybe those two will finally just fess up and get married

They picked each other over me

Bye buddy, that ain’t family

You just look for exquitie ways to hurt me and I’m sick of it

I ain’t gotta take this shit

I’m leaving you behind and I won’t look back

You sure love to talk smack for a jewish guy from Brooklyn

You’re not Bernie bitch, listen

You have met me, you know me

New phase in life, most likely

Big name change, I go by Ali

Writer flighty, not likely

Never leaving, Troglodyte wins

Sara’s a dolphin

She sings with no phins

Jack’s got his tins

Used to sell knives but never atoned for his sins

Hello Mu from the ether

IDK how I never met you before

Sorry I got called whore

Being a girl’s a snore

Ian loves you man

He a rapper and more for you man

Camu Tao, don’t be blue

RIP Mu

2 notes · View notes