AEW / WWE IMAGINES: Wrestling With Your Dreams ✨ (request closed)

mjf // soft

TW: degradation

January: "How goes it Turkey Tits? Let's get this show on the road."
    "Fuck you, Maxwell."
"Not on cable, and really...not ever. Put a bag over that face of yours, and maybe." He winked and turned towards the camera. I barely had time to fix my face before we were live. He spilled his shit talk about whoever he was facing at Battle of The Belts. The camera panned down as he clinked the Dynamite Diamond off of it. "Now who are you?"
      "Sophie Haven, backstage interviewer and-",
"That's great don't ever fucking talk to me again."
      "Jesus you are a fucking prick." He paused for just a heartbeat before continuing on without a word.

February: "Ladies and gentlemen, we are just four nights away from Revolution. My guest at this time, and your AEW World Heavyweight Champion, Maxwell Jacob Freedman." I rolled my eyes and held the mic out to him.
    "Jesus you get uglier every time we do this. Spend less time on your back and maybe some more lifting weights, huh? You used to be a butter face, now I think that might be your best attribute.
"I hate you and honestly cannot wait for Danielson to kick your head in. Now, how are you feeling about Sunday?" He ripped the mic from my hands, taking his time to tip Danielson to shreds and then threw the mic back into my chest. I had a dome shaped bruise between my breast for weeks.

March: "I'm Sophie Haven and I'm currently joined by a man who couldn't beat my grandmother in a one on one match, MJF." Blah, blah, blah.
    "What the fuck was that?" He stood nose to nose with me.
"What was what?" I pushed my hand into the solid muscles of his chest. He smelled like sandalwood, fir trees and vanilla. It was distracting.
       "Who the hell do you think you are to comment on my wrestling abilities huh? You're just a ring rat with big tits so you got a backstage job. You're not even good at that."
"It's true, Maxy. Now go fuck yourself." I shoved his chest away and then sauntered back to the dressing room. God I fucking hate that kid.

April: "Don't even open your whore mouth, Soph. I got this one." I could feel my blood boiling under my skin, but the camera was on and mic was hot. Tony had already warned me about being professional with him.

May: He walked in on his phone, not paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was doing. I looked at Renee who shook her head slightly, and Jon who just laughed. It's not my fault he got a little too close to our table while I was stretching, and oops. He fell flat on his face, his phone sliding right under my left foot. "Gotta be more careful, Maxwell." I slid his phone back to him, waiting for him to get up. As he stood he flipped me off and head the other way, all of catering laughing.

June: the_mjf: and finishing off our list of top 10 unbangable broads, the backstage train herself! sofie heaven!

I didn't know if I should be mad he spelled my name wrong, mad I was number 1 on his stupid list, mad that he had snapped pictures of me without knowing, or more mad that he hadn't even tested me out for himself before deciding I was that unbangable.

July: "Welcome back to AEW Dynamite, my guest at this time...Darby Allin. Darby how are you feeling with a chance to challenge for the AEW World Title?"
    "Woah, woah, hang on there Soph. Emo boy might decide to slit his wrist and get blood all over you."
"I didn't know you were the jealous type, Maxy." I watched his hands ball into fist. "Just say you want me next time! I'd be happy to reject you on national television." I ran my hand across his face and felt his entire body stiffen. There was that smell again. Sandalwood, fir trees, vanilla. Electricity spiked my palm, this man is truly repulsive.

August: "Here, bitch catch." He threw his sunglasses and scarf my way. By the time he was done, I was almost to the merch stand.
    "OFFICIAL WORN MJF GEAR, LITERALLY JUST TOOK IT OFF." I threw the glasses and there was a swarm to get to them. Once that died out, I threw the scarf. The scarf. The one that David Arquette had given him a million years ago. I felt a twinge of regret as soon as it left my fingers, but he deserved it. You can only call someone a whore so many times on national television before they start to take it personally. I turned to leave and was glued to the spot by the fire in his eyes.
"You really fucking are that stupid. Why the fuck would you do that?" He screamed at me.
     "I don't even know you Maxwell, but every single week it's calling me a whore, a bitch, something. You treat people like shit for no good reason. You needed a taste of your own medicine.
"Look here sweetheart, I'm sorry you're such a weak bitch but you don't touch my shit, do you understand?"
      "You literally threw it at me. Get a fucking grip, Maxwell."
"You'll be lucky if you have a job tomorrow morning." And I think he meant it, but Tony never called.