#smackdown damian priest

[cry1ngame]

TELL ME IT'S YOU

Damian Priest

- Second post! Short lil story, Fem pov, cursing, may be a few mistakes I've glossed over, ( not super familiar with Spanish so let me know if I messed that up at all ) - ever since Damian joined Smackdown, I had to write a little something.

You avoided him like the plague after he got drafted to SmackDown. You thought you were in the clear. Judgment Day? Left behind. RAW? In the rearview. Your past challenges? A distant memory. And him? Especially him. Damian Priest. He was more than an afterthought. He had been forgotten by you. But fate, or whatever cosmic joke the universe was playing on you, had other plans. No matter how much distance you put between yourself and the past, you ended up bumping into him. Like an old bad habit. Or a song stuck in your head that you swore you hated, but deep down maybe you didn’t. Because there you were, once again in close quarters on SMACKDOWN with the one man who had a knack for getting under your skin. Just like old times on RAW. You and Damian had history. Not the kind you could neatly sum up in a sentence, either. You’d joined the RAW roster a few months back, full of fire, only to get roped into Judgment Day, Finn Balor’s crumbling faction. A rookie mistake. Literally. You were new, naive, maybe even a little reckless. The details of why you joined? Hazy at best. Maybe you thought aligning with Finn would give you an edge. Maybe you just got caught in the undertow. Either way, it was a decision that painted a giant target on your back.

Enter Damian Priest.

You expected hostility. After all, he and Finn were locked in an intense rivalry, and you? You were just another pawn on Finn’s chessboard. But Damian’s fixation wasn’t about taking you down. No, it was something else entirely. He was convinced you were better than this. That you were wasting your potential in Judgment Day. That you, someone he barely even knew, were capable of more. And that unsettled you. It wasn’t the words themselves that got under your skin, it was how right he was. He saw straight through you. It was frustrating.

"You're not like them," He had told you one night backstage, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your wrist tape, pretending like his words didn’t sink in deeper than they actually did. "Wow, Priest. That’s really insightful. Did you figure that out all on your own?”

He smirked, unbothered. "You know what I mean. This whole Judgment Day act? It’s not you. You’re forcing it. Me entiendes?”

You scoffed. "And you’re an expert on me now?"

He leaned in, his lips mere inches from your cheek in a barely-there kiss, close enough to steal the breath from your lungs. "I don’t need to be an expert to know when someone’s faking it.”

That was the problem. He didn’t need to know you to see you.

You thought you’d escaped all of that. That you’d finally found some peace after leaving Judgment Day behind and jumping to SmackDown. That those tangled complicated feelings would stay buried where they belonged. But there he was. Making his way down the aisle, his entrance music blaring, wearing that damn knowing smile like he had the answers to questions you hadn’t even asked yet. You were just in the ring, mid-promo, talking about your determination to win the Royal Rumble. You were fired up. And then he interrupted. Because of course he did! And as much as you wished otherwise, you had a sinking feeling that Damian Priest wasn’t just there to mess with you.

He was there because he still saw you.

You let out a slow breath, rolling your shoulders as you listened to the crowd’s surprised reaction, but you weren’t paying attention to them much. You were too busy glaring at the man walking down the ramp like he owned the place. You shifted your weight, folding your arms as he swiftly climbed into the ring. “You lost, Priest? This isn’t RAW. I was hoping we'd never do this again.”

Damian chuckled, adjusting the collar of his leather jacket. “Nah, I know exactly where I am.” He gestured around the arena. “SmackDown. Your new home. Or well, our new home. Thought I'd come check out your side of the fence.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Right. Because obviously you don’t have anything better to do.”

He took a step closer, tilting his head. “You tell me. I was back there listening, and I gotta say, you sounded motivated, hermosa."

You narrowed your eyes. “Because I am motivated. It's literally the Royal Rumble.”

“Mhm, I get you.” He nodded, feigning deep thought. “It's, I don't know, interesting. ‘Cause I remember a time when you had your sights set on somethin’ else entirely.”

Your stomach twisted and the crowd cooed. You weren’t going to let him pull you back into the past.

“That was a long time ago,” you said coolly into the mic.

“Como? Was it now? I don't know, it feels like yesterday.” The way he was looking at you made your pulse spike. He had a way of doing that, of making you feel like he was peeling back layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You think you know me so well,” you muttered.

“I do,” he shot back without hesitation. “And that’s what’s got you so pissed off, isn’t it?” Your jaw clenched, but before you could snap back, he continued, “You left Judgment Day because you finally figured it out. You realized you didn’t belong there.” He let the words hang in the air before adding, “But that doesn’t mean you’ve figured out where you do belong.”

Your jaw fell agape.

He leaned in just slightly, the distance between you both threatening to close. “That’s what you’re really fighting for, isn’t it? More than a Rumble win. More than a title shot. You want to prove to yourself that you made the right choice.”

You hated how much he understood. But you weren’t going to let him get the last word. Lifting your chin, you met his gaze head-on you said, “I don’t need your validation, Priest.”

He chuckled, stepping back with his hands up. “Good. ‘Cause I ain't here to give it. I’m here to see if you can back it up.”

Your brow furrowed. “What the hell does that mean?”

His smirk deepened. “It means I ain't goin’ anywhere. I guess we’ll find out if all that motivation you’re talking about is real. Or if you’re still just running.”

"Running from what, damn it?" You threw an arm up dramatically. “Go on, tell me.”

Damian didn’t answer right away. No, that would’ve been taking it easy. Instead, he let the moment hang in the air, stretching the silence just long enough to make you roll your eyes into next week’s Smackdown. Then, with that same smirk, he scratched at his upper lip and let out a deep rumbling chuckle, the kind that sent a shiver straight into your core, though you’d sooner take a chair shot than ever admit that.

“Heh.” He started pacing. “You really that dense?”

“Oh, please,” Your jaw tightened, “Enlighten me, Priest. What exactly am I running from?”

Damian stopped pacing, shaking his head. “You really want me to spell it out for you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” You grumbled.

“Alright,” he said, voice low and steady. “You’re not running from Judgment Day. You’re not even running from your past mistakes. You’re running from yourself.”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze. “That’s the best you’ve got? Some dime store fortune cookie psychology?”

“Call it whatever you want, but we both know it’s true.” Damian gestured toward you with a lazy flick of his ringed fingers. “You act like you’ve got it all figured out, like you’ve moved on, but deep down? You’re still trying to prove something. To yourself.”

He picked you apart. You hated that he wasn’t wrong.

“Newsflash, Priest,” You stepped forward, closing the gap between you two again. “Everyone in this business is trying to prove something. It’s called ambition. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

“Ambition and fear? Two different things.”

You sucked in a breath through your nose. “I’m not afraid.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “No? Then why are you getting so worked up?”

You opened your mouth to fire back - only to realize you didn’t actually have an answer. Fuck him. Fuck his insight, fuck the way he had this irritating habit of making you question yourself. You huffed out a sharp incredulous laugh, because of course he’d say something like that. Because if there was one thing Damian Priest excelled at, besides South of heavin-ing people into oblivion, it was knowing exactly what buttons to press and how hard to press them. You squared your shoulders, refusing to let him see the way his words sent a shockwave through you. But he knew. You knew that he was aware. “You really piss me off. Yet, you wonder why I don't ever give you the time of day.”

“Oh, you give me the time of day, sweetheart. Every single time I walk in a room, you feel it. Just like I do.”

He’s messing with you. He’s just trying to get in your head.

So you did the only logical thing, and dismissed him with a flick of your wrist. “Cute. Real cute. But here’s the thing, Priest, I don’t run from myself. I like who I am right now and I like where I'm headed."

That earned you a full-blown laugh, deep and rich, like he actually enjoyed this ( God, he did ). “Better yet,” Damian began, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip like he was savoring the moment, like he knew exactly what he was about to do to your sanity. His eyes darkened with something unreadable, something dangerous. “How about,” he drawled, voice smooth as sin, “you stop running from me?”

Oh.

Oh, hell no.

Your entire body went rigid, heat creeping up the back of your neck. The crowd’s reaction was instant, a mix of oohs and gasps, like they’d just witnessed someone flip a match into a gasoline pit.

“I- I don’t-” you stammered, internally cursing yourself for it. Stuttering? Really? You were better than this.

“No, c’mon now.” Suddenly, Damian's voice shifted from playful to razor sharp, and you felt a jolt of adrenaline shoot through you. You stepped back instinctively, only to find him stepping forward, closing the distance between you again, even further this time. “You run from me. You just keep on running.” And there you were, caught in a bit of a dilemma. You took another step back, nearly into the ropes behind you, trying to regain some semblance of personal space, but he was having none of it. He placed a hand on your shoulder, the cool metal of his rings pressing through the fabric of your wrestling gear. It was like he was anchoring you in place, and somehow that made the whole thing worse - and also a little thrilling. He leaned in, lowering himself to your eye level, which, considering your height difference, felt like he was towering over you in a very intimate way. “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s really you who wants me to stop,” he demanded, “That it’s really you who wants me to keep my distance. Tell. Me. It’s. You.”

Your mind raced as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks. How could he be so infuriatingly accurate? Damnit, he knew exactly how to handle you, like a skilled musician plucking at the strings of your tension. Deep down, you realized you loved this as much as you "hated" it. It was the thrill of the chase, the magnetism of his confidence. It was all so maddening. Because, if you were honest with yourself, there was a part of you that was undeniably drawn to him, a part that was tired of running.

[ms-wwe]

Bless this video I swear.

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

Wrestling lore is really funny to explain to non-wrestling people, mainly because you have to suspend your disbelief much more than you would do for stuff like anime or superhero fiction. Think of it like this; it’s normal for a shonen anime protagonist or a superhero to demonstrate they have superpowers usually because it’s established early on. That also goes for other parts of the lore, such as the world-building, the MacGuffins, and the history of that world.

But in wrestling, characters and storylines change all the time and are ongoing (I’ve seen the term “longform storytelling” used). So you end up with HUGE leaps in logic, such as:

1) There’s a supernatural being from hell who temporarily became a biker gang member, and then went back to being a supernatural being from hell

2) There’s a male model who gave out grooming tips who eventually evolved into Captain America/Homelander.

3) Triple H committed burglary on camera. He invaded Randy Orton’s home, beat him up, destroyed some of his property, and then threw Orton out the window. But it’s all fine because he’s the good guy, so he’s still employed by the WWE.

4) Dominik Mysterio is beefing with his dad, who literally fought for child custody of him in a wrestling match. Keep that in mind anytime you see Dominik not getting along with Rey.

5) Edge got sent to hell, but is okay now.

6) CM Punk was once a cult leader, but stopped doing that after he lost his hair. Then he became the opposite, as in he turned into an anti-authority rebel.

7) A lot of wrestlers, such as Sheamus and Shawn Spears, apparently used to work at WWE as background staff/security guards.

8) Real life famous music artist Bad Bunny is part of the lore and he actually beat a world champion (Damian Priest) in a match. And I don’t mean Bad Bunny is playing a character. In the WWE lore, Bad Bunny is playing himself.

(Feel free to add on any other leaps in logic from pro-wrestling)

[d-lanx]

Honestly the funniest fucking part about that whole segment. he was in such denial

[punksrhea]

DAMIAN PRIEST WWE SmackDown, February 7th, 2025

[a-random-pillow]

The Father

The Son

And The Holy Spirt

[mayahawkeswife]

i’m going to sob i fear.

no matter what happens, he’s always going to be there to hug her 🙁

[moxleyrollins]

FRIDAY NIGHT SMACKDOWN | 06.20.25

[mrawkweird]

Punk always got time to laugh at Drew's pain.

[dynamitekansai]

rhearipley_wwe: It’s WEPA time 👊🏽 I miss my Terror Twin!! 🖤

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

New Bi Flag just dropped

[dcminions]

SMACKDOWN 02/28/25

[ms-wwe]

Can we all just agree on one thing here...

Rhea and Damian should be the birth of mixed tag team titles. There, I said it.

[onlyangel4]

soft spot. damian priest.

damian priest x single mother!reader

synopsis: when you, a single mom join the smackdown roster, you are ready to fight both for your career and your child. damian priest isn’t known for his warmth, but the moment your kid starts following him around backstage, something in him shifts. he didn’t mean to care. he didn’t mean to fall.

but some families find you when you least expect it.

faceclaim: jenna dewan

wrestlingupdates

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 45,682 others

wrestlingupdates: y'all already know that i'm so excited. y/n y/ln has been drafted to smackdown and i can't wait to see what my favourite girl gets up to on the main roster.

view all 4,586 comments

user1: i am so excited for content of cleo causing chaos behind the scenes

user2: i have been a fan of y/n since she started in tna, twenty years later she is finally getting the recognition she deserves

user3: that's my girl

user4: OMG IT IS FINALLY happening

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you’d gotten used to new locker rooms.

ring lights changed, logos swapped out, but the feeling always stayed the same, a twist low in your stomach, like your body hadn’t caught up with your brain. you’d stood under banners that read impact, aew, nxt, and now, finally, the unmistakable blue and white of smackdown.

your daughter cleo clutched your hand tighter than usual, her fingers curled into your palm. she was six, impossibly curious and maddeningly fearless, until it came to loud arenas and unfamiliar faces. you knelt beside her in the hallway, brushing a curl away from her cheek.

"remember what we said?", you asked softly.

she nodded, eyes wide. "no running. no yelling. no getting suplexed."

you smiled despite the nerves. "good girl."

there were wrestlers moving past you, some familiar from nxt call-ups, others legends you'd only brushed shoulders with at cross-promotional events. a few gave you polite nods. a couple of the women smiled at cleo. no one stopped.

a pa pointed you toward your locker room. it was smaller than you expected but clean. functional. you dropped your duffel bag and helped cleo settle onto the little folding chair beside your things, handing her a snack and her tablet.

"stay here, okay? i’m going to go check the board and find my producer."

she pouted. "can’t i come?"

you hesitated. the hallway would be full of people. "five minutes. don’t move."

you didn’t like leaving her, but you didn’t have a choice. you didn't want to overwhelm her, or yourself

the rundown board wasn’t far. you scanned the paper tacked to the cork, finding your name buried in the second hour, promo segment. no match yet. safe start.

you turned back.

cleo was gone.

your heart slammed into your ribs.

you pivoted fast, eyes darting down the hallway, nothing. the crowd around the gorilla position blurred as your adrenaline surged. you took a step forward.

then froze.

there she was, about thirty feet down the corridor, standing in front of someone tall, imposing, and completely draped in black.

damian priest.

you recognized him instantly, taller in person, every inch the brooding solo act he’d become post the judgment day. hair slicked back, leather jacket gleaming under the fluorescents. he looked down at cleo, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

cleo pointed at his boots. "you look like a vampire."

for a split second, you thought he’d ignore her.

then his mouth twitched. just barely. "maybe i am."

you moved quickly, heart still pounding. "cleo", you said, a bit more sharply than you meant to. she turned, grinning.

"mom! he’s huge."

"i see that", you breathed, placing a hand on her shoulder. you looked up at damian. "sorry. she tends to wander when i blink."

he looked at you then. something passed through his expression. not judgment. not even amusement.

recognition.

"it’s fine", he said simply. his voice was low, calm. "she’s not bothering me."

you blinked. "still, i should’ve... thank you."

he nodded once, then walked past you both, disappearing down the hall without another word.

cleo tugged at your hand. "he’s cool."

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "yeah", you murmured. "he really is."

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y/ninsta posted a story

written: if anyone is wondering why i showed up last night wearing a dress it was because miss cleo needed us to match

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the second week felt less like walking into a storm and more like stepping into a tide you were starting to understand.

no one looked twice when you passed catering this time. a few nodded. bayley threw you a quick wink. you didn’t stop. you had your gear bag slung over one shoulder and just enough caffeine in your system to fake confidence if needed.

cleo was safe. that mattered most.

she’d cried a little when you dropped her off with the wwe childcare team, new toys, kind staff, still too many strangers. but she was in good hands. better than last week, where she’d nearly walked into the lions den.

speaking of…

you rounded a corner and nearly walked straight into him.

he caught the strap of your bag before it could slide off your shoulder, steadying it like it was nothing. like you were nothing to worry about either.

"hey", he said.

you blinked up at him. "hi. sorry. i didn’t see you."

he let go of the strap and leaned back against the wall, arms folded. Same as last week. dark clothes, focused expression. less intimidating now, but only just.

"no cleo today?" he asked.

you raised an eyebrow. "you remembered her name."

he shrugged. "she made an impression."

you gave a short laugh. "yeah, she tends to do that. She’s with childcare this week. probably convincing someone to let her run a match or eat five granola bars in a row."

a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. it was quick. almost shy.

"you okay with that?" he asked.

the question caught you off guard. not how’s your kid, but how are you handling this?

you hesitated. "i guess i have to be."

he nodded, not pressing. just listening.

you sighed. "she’s great. adjusting fast, better than me half the time. but i still feel like i’ve got one foot in the ring and the other one stuck in a daycare cubby. not exactly the image you want when you're trying to prove yourself."

he tilted his head. "image doesn’t win matches. hunger does."

you looked at him. he said it like he’d lived it. like he still was.

"you always talk like that?", you asked, half a tease.

he smirked. "only when i mean it."

you paused, then leaned next to him against the wall. not touching. just closer.

"you’ve been on top of this brand for months", you said. "so what are you still hungry for?"

for a moment, you weren’t sure he was going to answer. his gaze drifted to a production cart nearby, like something just offstage had taken root in his head.

"quiet", he said finally. "something real."

you turned to him, brows furrowed.

"wrestling’s loud", he added. "noise. hype. people cheering for who they think you are. i like when someone sees through that."

you weren’t sure what to say. but the silence between you didn’t feel awkward.

it felt safe.

you watched as he pushed off the wall, giving you one last look before heading down the corridor.

"tell cleo i said hi", he said, voice quieter now.

you nodded. "i will."

and for the first time since your call-up, you didn’t feel like you were walking into the spotlight alone.

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the hotel room was small, but clean. two beds, dim lamplight, the low hum of some animated show playing on the tablet.

cleo sat cross-legged on the comforter, still wearing the glittery blue hoodie you’d packed for her in case she got cold. she had a juice box in one hand and was absently brushing her doll’s hair with the other.

you sat at the edge of the opposite bed, unlacing your boots one slow loop at a time. your body ached in all the familiar ways, tight knees, stiff shoulders but your heart that was quieter tonight.

cleo looked up suddenly. "mommy?"

"hmm?"

"did you see my friend at work today?"

you froze.

you didn’t need to ask who she meant. there was only one person she’d fixated on enough to give that title to. not rey mysterio, not liv, not even charlotte. damian.

you swallowed a smile. "i did, yeah."

her eyes lit up. "what was he doing?"

"standing around looking serious. you know. like always"

she giggled. "he’s so big. but he doesn’t scare me."

"i noticed."

you crossed the room and knelt next to her bed, brushing the juice-sticky hair back from her forehead. she yawned, blinked slowly.

"he asked about you", you said softly.

her whole face lit up. "he did?!"

"hhm. said to tell you hi."

She tucked her doll under the blanket like it was the most important thing in the world, then looked up at you with sleepy seriousness. "he’s nice. he seems a little sad though"

you paused.

"yeah", you murmured. "he kind of does."

"maybe he needs a hug."

your throat tightened unexpectedly.

you kissed her forehead. "you’re something else, kiddo."

she grinned, proud.

a few minutes later, she was asleep, small limbs curled, hair sticking out in every direction. you turned off the lamp, sat in the dark for a long time, scrolling through match footage on your phone.

but your mind wasn’t on wristlocks or crowd reactions.

it was on a man with shadows behind his smile, and the way your daughter had looked at him like she already knew he was safe.

you weren’t sure what was happening yet.

but it was starting to feel like more than just coincidence.

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damian wasn’t sure what made him do it.

one second he was walking past the crew hallway, the next he was crouched in front of a wide-eyed little girl in sparkly sneakers and a ponytail, whispering: "want to see your mom’s match?"

cleo didn’t hesitate. she just grinned and nodded like it was the best idea anyone had ever had.

it probably wasn’t.

he knew talent weren’t supposed to pull kids from daycare mid-show. knew security would ask questions if they spotted him dragging a six-year-old through the maze of cables and crates near gorilla. but when cleo slipped her small hand into his without a second thought, it was already done.

now she sat beside him in a folding chair behind the curtain, her legs swinging, her eyes locked on the monitor.

"is this where she comes out?" she whispered.

he nodded. "any second now."

cleo squirmed with excitement, holding a small bag of dinosaur-shaped gummies, he'd grabbed them from his own stash. he told himself it was just a kindness. something small. nothing more.

but then your music hit.

and cleo lit up like the fourth of july.

"there she is!" she squealed, pointing at the screen. "that’s my mommy!"

damian smiled, small, private. he watched as you stepped into the light for the first time under that enormous main roster stage.

no nerves on your face. just fire.

and something else. something determined.

he didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until cleo tugged his sleeve. "she’s gonna win, right?"

he nodded. "i’d bet on it."

and when your match started, he didn’t look away once.

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you didn’t have time to be nervous. this week was your first real match on smackdown, it was even more daunting considering seasoned pro naomi was your competition.

your music was already queued. your wrists were taped. the production team was shouting cues and pushing talent past you toward Gorilla.

it wasn’t your first match, not by a long shot. you’d bled under different banners, fought in cages, flipped off balconies. but this one felt heavier. brighter. more visible. it was the first time under the big lights with wwe’s main roster eyes all on you.

your heart pounded like a drumline in your chest. not from fear.

just pressure.

you glanced toward the tunnel, looking for someone, anyone familiar but the spot was crowded. and cleo she was supposed to be far from here, in childcare on the other side of the building.

at least she was safe. that was all that mattered.

you rolled your shoulders, focused forward.

then the match producer tapped you. "you’re up. good luck."

you exhaled and stepped into the curtain.

and the crowd roared.

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you didn’t hear everything after that.

the match moved in flashes. you remembered the pop when your name was announced. the sound of boots on canvas. the thud of your finisher landing clean. the heat from the lights. the way you breathed harder than usual, not from cardio, but from emotion that had no place in the ring but showed up anyway.

and then, three slaps on the mat.

your theme hit.

you’d won.

just like that.

you stood in the centre of the ring, arm raised, chest heaving, and scanned the crowd almost by instinct. you didn’t know what you were looking for

until you saw them.

tucked behind the timekeeper’s area, down low by the barricade where the cameras wouldn’t catch them unless they looked hard

cleo.

perched on someone’s lap, wearing her sparkly hoodie, waving both hands in the air like she was trying to call down lightning.

and behind her?

damian.

hat pulled low, hoodie up, clearly trying not to draw attention. but his eyes were unmistakable. focused entirely on you.

he gave you a slow, subtle nod.

not for the cameras. not for the roster.

for you.

you almost missed your cue to leave the ring.

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later, when the show wrapped and the adrenaline faded, you found them both in the hallway near your locker room. cleo ran toward you the second she spotted you, arms outstretched.

"you did it!" she yelled. "you beat her so fast! and you flipped! and he let me sit in the chair with the headphones but i didn’t touch anything!"

you caught her in your arms, burying your face in her hair. "wait, what?"

cleo turned and pointed dramatically at damian. "he broke me out! like a ninja!"

you stared at him.

he looked almost guilty. almost.

"before you get mad", he said, hands up in mock surrender, "she asked nicely."

you just looked at him, speechless for a beat. "you snuck her out."

"she missed you", he said softly. "and i thought she’d want to see you win."

your heart stuttered.

and then melted.

You looked down at cleo. "did you have fun?"

"best day ever."

you looked back up at him. "you know this means she’s going to ask for this every week, right?"

he smirked. "guess i'll have to start showing up early."

you didn’t say anything else. you couldn’t, really, not with your throat tightening the way it was. so instead, you smiled.

a real one.

and somewhere inside you, something warm and dangerous started to settle in.

because this? this was starting to feel like something you might not want to walk away from.

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the hotel room was dark, save for the faint blue glow of the tv. some mindless rerun played without sound, but he wasn’t watching.

damian sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped between his knees, still half in his gear. he hadn’t bothered to take off his boots. Just the hoodie. the adrenaline had worn off hours ago, but something else hadn’t.

he could still hear her laugh. the kid.

cleo.

she’d sat on his lap like it was nothing. like she’d known him forever. no hesitation. no fear. she’d asked him how he got his hair so shiny and whether or not he’d ever wrestled a dinosaur. she’d called the match like a pint-sized commentator, whisper-shouting into the headset when her mom hit the finisher.

and when the match ended, she’d clapped so hard he thought she might break her hands.

damian hadn’t smiled like that in a long time.

he’d told himself it was just a gesture. something nice. a favor. maybe a small rebellion against the usual rules.

but that wasn’t true.

the truth was he wanted to see you win.

not just the match.

he wanted to see you find your place here. to be seen, the way you deserved to be, not just as "new call-up" or "former AEW star" or "the one with the kid." he’d watched the roster underestimate you for weeks. he knew the look. he’d lived it himself when he started.

but tonight, they couldn’t deny you.

not after that pop.

not after that finish.

and watching you walk up the ramp, shoulders squared, chin high, eyes scanning the crowd he’d felt something settle low in his chest. not nerves. not pride.

something quieter.

more dangerous.

damian sighed and leaned back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

this wasn’t just about admiration anymore.

it was becoming personal.

and that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you didn’t sleep deeply that night.

cleo curled into your side, one small foot lodged beneath your ribs. the hotel ac rattled faintly, and your back still ached from the match. But that wasn’t what kept you up.

it was him.

damian.

you kept replaying the moment you saw them down by the barricade. the way he’d looked at you, silent but so present. no big gesture. no smirk. just solid. like someone you could fall into and not hit the ground.

it was a ridiculous thought.

this business didn’t allow softness. or time. or relationships that lasted longer than the next tour loop.

but then there was cleo, asleep beside you, mumbling his name in her dreams.

you weren’t sure what was happening.

but it felt like the kind of thing that didn’t stop easily once it started.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

wwe posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: y/n has arrived ahead of her first ple, the elimination chamber where she has a tag match with tiffany stratton against nia jax and candace larae

wwe posted a story tagging archerofinfamy and rhearipley_wwe

written: the terror twins have been reunited for the first time since damian priest left raw during the transfer window

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

finally being back with damian rhea felt like she had missed a whole season of damian's life.

she noticed it before she even made it to catering.

damian, leaning against a stack of production crates, arms crossed, pretending to scroll his phone.

you, sitting cross-legged on the floor with cleo in front of you, helping her colour a foam championship belt from the merch table like it was the most serious thing in the world.

cleo asked something. you smiled, laughed, pushed her curls out of her face.

and damian?

that man didn’t so much as blink, but everything in his posture said, locked in.

rhea smirked.

she detoured straight toward him.

"let me guess", she said, stopping beside him. "you're just coincidentally standing here. middle of traffic. next to this specific hallway."

damian didn’t look up. "it’s not like that."

"right", rhea drawled. "it’s not like anything. you just ‘happened’ to wander near the girl you’ve been brooding over for the last three shows while her kid paints glitter on a fake belt."

he glanced over. "you done?"

"nope." she leaned on the crate beside him, arms folded. "she’s cool. you like her. cleo loves you. you’re literally the only person on this brand that kid listens to. this whole soft-parent-energy thing is actually very cute. so what’s the holdup?"

damian exhaled, jaw flexing. "it’s not that simple."

rhea tilted her head. "why not?"

"because she’s new. and talented. and already has enough to prove without everyone whispering that she’s sleeping her way up the roster. because she’s got a kid and i’m..."

he stopped. didn’t finish.

rhea watched him for a moment, the edge softening slightly in her expression. "because you’re scared."

he didn’t deny it.

"look", she said, voice quieter, "i'm not saying get down on one knee and propose tomorrow. but you’re already halfway in. the kid adores you. she clearly feels something. you showing up? that means something."

he shook his head slightly. "i don’t want to mess it up."

"then don’t." she nudged his shoulder. "tell her. before someone else does."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

later that evening, following the elimination chamber cleo had passed out on a row of production cases, mouth slightly open, marker still clutched in her fist.

you were half-watching the monitor rewatching your match, the rest of your brain stuck in that foggy space between exhaustion and gratitude.

and then damian sat down next to you.

quiet. no preamble. close enough to feel the warmth of him but not enough to press.

"hey", you said.

"hey."

you both watched the screen for a beat.

then, without looking at you, he asked, voice low "if i said i wanted to take you out sometime what would you say?"

you blinked. looked at him, really looked.

"i’d say" you paused, smiling softly, "it’s about time."

and for the first time since you’d met him

he smiled back.

fully.

openly.

like something had finally been decided.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

one week into dating damian

cleo had a habit of crawling out of bed before you and wandering straight into whatever hotel room was across the hall, usually damian’s.

one morning you woke to an empty bed, slipped on your hoodie, and crossed the hall barefoot, fully ready to scold her.

but when you pushed open his door, you froze.

there she was, knees tucked under her, balancing on the edge of his bed with a tablet in hand, while damian sat beside her cross-legged, head tilted, listening intently.

"okay", cleo said, very seriously, "this one’s a therizinosaurus" , her pronunciation of the word was terribly wrong but utterly adorable. "it had really long claws and was a herbivore, but also terrifying."

damian nodded. "that’s actually a great name for a finisher."

you blinked. "are you guys naming moves after dinosaurs?"

he looked up. "only the deadliest ones."

cleo grinned. "we already picked one that is yours momma. wanna know what it’s called?"

you couldn’t say no.

and you didn’t want to.

archerofinfamy posted a story

written: tired on pretending dinosaurs aren't cool as hell

wwe posted a story tagging archerofinfamy

written: damian priest just debuted a terrifying new move that is calling the spinosaurus ddt

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

three weeks into dating damian

you had a big match, one you wanted cleo to watch.

damian had been eager to be the one to watch her.

he sat at gorilla, watching you from behind the curtain. not in a possessive way. just proud. like watching the moment before lightning struck.

cleo stood beside him with a headset way too big for her head, shovelling gummy sweets into her mouth, free hand holding his wrist tape like it was treasure.

"do you think she’s nervous?" she whispered.

"no", he said, eyes still forward. "she’s ready."

he meant it. but he also meant: you always are. that’s who you are.

cleo giggled and held up the tape. "can i wear it?"

"only if you promise to cheer loud."

she nodded like it was a blood oath.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

a month into dating damian

cleo was sick.

nothing major, just a fever and exhaustion, but it hit hard after travel day, and she clung to you like gravity. you were supposed to wrestle that night, a solid match with a new push behind it.

but cleo had her arms locked around your neck, flushed and sweaty, and you’d already texted the producer your regrets.

then damian appeared in the doorway.

you started to tell him it was fine. that you had it under control. that you’d ordered Pedialyte and she’d be okay by morning.

he didn’t say anything.

just walked over, sat on the floor beside the bed, and held cleo’s tiny, fever-warm hand until she fell asleep.

later, after everything calmed down, you whispered, "thank you."

he shook his head. "you don’t have to do all of this alone."

and somehow, for the first time in years

you believed it.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

eight weeks into dating damian

you weren’t exactly hiding anymore.

people talked. rumors swirled. a few fans had caught on via glances, hallway sightings, or the time cleo accidentally called him "d" in front of a camera crew.

but you kept it quiet. protected.

not for shame, but for peace.

still, moments slipped through. you brushing glitter off his shoulder. him sneaking you cleo’s favourite snacks in catering. cleo climbing into his lap during a production meeting, chewing on a lanyard, and declaring him her "most bestest backup daddy."

he didn’t correct her.

not even once.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

two months dating damian

you didn’t mean to say it that night.

not in the way people usually plan for those moments. there was no candlelight. no big romantic speech. no music playing in the background. just the hum of the a/c, cleo’s quiet breathing from the second bed, and the weight of his arm draped across your stomach.

damian was half asleep beside you, still in joggers and a thermal shirt. the room smelled like takeout and travel-sized lotion. it was one of those rare nights where you had nowhere to be. just here.

just with him.

you rolled to your side slowly, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead. He looked peaceful like this. less guarded. younger, even.

he stirred at your touch, blinking at you.

"you okay?" he asked, voice low and rough.

you nodded. "yeah. just thinking."

"about what?"

you hesitated, then exhaled.

"how lucky i am", you said quietly. "to have this. to have you. to not be alone in it all anymore."

damian didn’t say anything at first. just brushed your wrist with his thumb, soft and steady.

then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you whispered it, barely above the buzz of the a/c.

"i love you."

silence.

and then

his hand stopped moving.

your breath caught.

he sat up slightly, his eyes finding yours in the dim light.

"you do?", he asked, not teasing. just stunned.

you nodded, nerves bubbling under your skin. "i didn’t mean to say it like that. not all weird and sleepy and-"

"i love you too."

he said it before you could spiral further. no hesitation. just warm certainty.

"i’ve been trying not to say it for weeks", he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "didn’t want to freak you out. or mess this up."

you laughed, quiet and shaking. "you could never."

damian leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, both of you breathing the same small space.

"i love you", he said again. "both of you. it’s not even a question anymore."

across the room, cleo turned in her sleep, murmuring something about "dinosaurs and pancakes."

you smiled.

this wasn’t flashy. it wasn’t loud.

but it was real.

and for the first time in years, love didn’t feel like something you had to fight for.

it just was.

y/ninsta

liked by archerofinfamy, beckylynchwwe, biancabelairwwe and 489,322 others

tagged: archerofinfamy

y/ninsta: just us. some snacks. a few late nights. cooking classes. & a man who carries stickers in his gear bag "just in case."

view all 18,283 comments

archerofinfamy: my girls

beckylynchwwe: i knew it. didn’t even need the detective hat. congrats mama

rhearipley_wwe: i’ve been WAITING. cleo’s the real star here tho, sorry not sorry

user5: the soft launch era is OVER. we are FEEDING

user6: damian "i destroy men for fun and braid toddler hair" priest??? iconic

user7: you went from indie darling to smackdown star to mom of the year with a hot wrestling boyfriend. living the dream fr.

[silassstingy]

Damian Priest taking in the crowd in Barcelona, Spain chanting "El Campeón" @ WWE's Friday Night Smackdown Mar 14th, 2025

[punksrhea]

DAMIAN PRIEST WWE SmackDown, March 28th, 2025