Hello! Could you write an imagine with MJF and the reader who is the daughter of Triple H and Stephanie? Maybe she confronts CM Punk for everything he has said about her family and now about MJF and the situation gets out of control and Max is there to protect his girl and end super fluff
Had to come back from my mini writing break to slap something together for you. I hope it's okay, I've never really written anything like this before and also I'm as shit at writing conflict as I am with getting into it irl (aka very shit.) I hope you like it!
Triple H and Stephanie McMahon are your parents. Safe to say you aren't afraid to stand up for what you believe in, and you definitely aren't afraid to stand up for your boyfriend, MJF.
Typed out on my phone, apologies for any errors. The reader accidentally ended up being gender neutral just fyi ☺️ the jokes about the turtleneck are from Archer (my beloved)
Moderate swearing, mentions of CM Punk.
You were a McMahon, if there was one thing you had it was balls.
Max loved that about you, not that he’d ever told you that. You were never afraid to say what you thought or stand up for what you believed in, hell, you were the kid of Stephanie McMahon and Triple H, the owners of WWE and yet you still chose to date him.
The pair of you were the constant top story in the wrestling media but you didn’t care. You came to as many shows as you could, you openly spoke about what AEW did better than WWE and much to Max's delight; you were not afraid to tell TK to his face when he was being stupid. He was completely enamoured with your fierceness.
Max supposes he should’ve seen it coming. You can’t have a loyal spitfire for a partner and not expect them to verbally smackdown someone like CM Punk.
You’d never really had a problem with Punk before tonight. Sure, he was a bit of a dick when you were a kid and he left without a word but you understood. Everything he said about WWE was true. You might be a McMahon but you knew right from wrong and you hadn’t hesitated to voice it then and you weren’t hesitant to voice it now. But costing your boyfriend his big moment was way over the line and you decided to make it your business.
You knew Max was disappointed, his return had been months in the making. Meticulously planned to the second and all it took to make him old news was the new AEW champion, his idol, opening his big mouth in a press conference a few minutes after the show.
You were furious and no matter how many times Max tried to grab your attention, tried to get you to leave with him, you refused. You had some choice things to say to the so called second city saint.
“Mac,” Max pulls your attention away from the closed door you were pacing in front of with the nickname he’d teasingly called you the first time he met you that had just stuck. “C’mon, I’m tired, I just want to go home and I don’t want you to fight with him.” He mutters, squeezing your hand.
“I just want to talk to him then we can go.” You reassure him, pressing a quick kiss to his hand before letting go. He sighs but accepts.
The pair of you waited outside his locker room. You, pacing angrily while Max sat on a production box kicking his feet out, still dressed in the full black ensemble. His mask and his scarf tossed beside him. You didn’t have to wait long before the AEW champ rolled from his room and you didn’t hesitate, pouncing the second he opened the door.
“You're a real piece of work, you know that right? I’ve never met anyone so willing to call everyone else an asshole while being the biggest asshole currently walking the earth.” You hiss fiercely. Max rolls his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t have believed you when you said you just wanted to talk.
“You haven’t taken enough from Max already? Now you have to take away his big moment too? What, couldn’t handle Max and Tony’s little surprise after you won? Had to find a way to make this all about you again?”
Punk scoffs, bringing his suitcase to a stop beside him. “This has nothing to do with you, Sugar and it definitely has nothing to do with your silly little boyfriend. Get out of my way.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so, I don’t think I’m going anywhere until you give Max an apology.”
“You are way out of line right now Little Mac.” He sighs as if you are nothing more than a childish nuisance, making a point to use the nickname he’d given you in 2008 when you’d been a ten-year-old glued to his leg while he carted you around indulgently.
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me nicknames like we’re still friends, like I was just some stupid kid who annoyed their favourite wrestler. You don’t get to be angry that I’m standing up for the person I love when you went out of your way to ruin one of the biggest moments of their career. You don’t.” You are gasping for air, like your anger had filled your lungs and refused to make room for oxygen.
“This wasn’t personal, I had some grievances I needed to air, I’m not going to apologise for setting the record straight and I’m definitely not going to apologise to that asshole.” He jabs a finger at Max who doesn’t even look mad, just a little annoyed but mostly worried for you. “After everything he’s said and done to me, no way.”
“And newsflash kid!” He continues his voice still quiet but matching yours in sharpness. “You were just an annoying kid that I put up with, you were the boss’s favourite grandkid. Not like I could tell you to scram.”
“That's enough,” Max spits, shooting up and quickly coming to stand in front of you. “You can hate me all you want, you can try and ruin me and ruin this company with your stupidity and selfish bullshit, but you don’t talk about Mac like that or I will leave you in a pool of your own blood, again.”
Punk and Max square off each refusing to give while you twisted your hands into the black material of Max’s shirt all the fight leaving you like air after a swift kick to the gut.
Punk scoffs, grabbing his suitcase and wheeling it away refusing to look back at you even as the guilt started to eat him up.
You buried yourself in Max’s back and felt him sigh, “you okay?” He whispers, eyes still on the door to Punk’s locker room. “Mac,” He sighs quietly when the only answer you give is the tightening of your fingers in his shirt. “Please, I need to know if your okay.”
You nod against his spine and he relaxes. “I’m sorry he’s such an asshole.”
“Don’t be. Not your fault. I’m sorry he ruined your return.” You mumble softly in reply. You can’t believe he was your favourite wrestler once upon a time. You can’t believe if it wasn’t for your shared childhood love of CM Punk you and Max may have never gotten together.
“Don’t be. Not your fault.” He mimics back, you can hear the small smirk in his words. You thump him on the shoulder earning a chuckle.
He turns around, wrapping you in his arms, tiny smirk still firmly in place. “Be honest, how wrinkled in the back of this turtleneck right now?” You roll your eyes to the ceiling. “I’m serious! This is woven from the purest Azerbaijani cashmere wool, it was $900.”
“Say, is this black or dark black?”
“Don’t be stupid. You know it’s dark black.”
“Of course, how could I be your sweet cheese, your good time boy and not know the difference between black and dark black? I shouldn’t have even joked.”
“Sweet cheese? Awfully romantic and presumptuous of you. Bold. Did the rats teach you that one? It reeks of the pungent desperation only they can create.”
“Yep,” You nod. “They also taught me the single ladies dance, analysed Vonnegut, weighed the pros and cons of the Kardashian’s removing their BBL’s, and taught me how avoid STD’s. Very well-rounded people those ring rats.”
“How do you avoid STD’s?”
“Don’t sleep with patient zero. I got the information a little late.”
“Ha-ha. Wow. So funny. Is that part of the tight ten you’re working on? I’d cut it, it’s not landing as well as you think.”
You laugh and he smiles. “That’s better. I hate seeing you sad.” You bury yourself into him with a content sigh. No one was better at turning your mood around than Maxwell Jacob Friedman.
“Same. It’s why I had to say something to him. I know how much it hurt you what he did.”
“It did. But it’s over. He can’t ruin tonight for me; do you want to know why?”
“Because during your little revenge rampage, you told him you loved me.”
He says sounding awfully smug.
You retrace your words realising you had in fact said that. A blush brightens your cheeks. You had really promised yourself you weren’t going to be the first one to say it. Damn CM Punk.
“Did I? How strange.” You reply in a faux disinterested tone.
He nods seriously, “You did.”
“Hmm,” You hum, swallowing down the nerves. You meet his gaze. “Lucky I meant it then.”
“What will Hunter and Steph say about their precious baby being in love with the enemy?”
“Probably something along the lines of ‘great, how long until we can sign him to a bazillion year contract and make him not the enemy?’ they won’t come out and say it, but I think they are hoping I will seduce you to the darkside.” You grin.
“You think your parents are prostituting you?”
“I mean you have met my dad; he is all about what’s best for business.”
Max laughs, tightening his grip on you. “I’m very happy in AEW.”
“I know. I like dating the enemy. It’s all very Romeo and Juliet, except less misogynist, less creepy, and you are way more of an asshole that Romeo. Romeo was also way more open about his feelings too; I mean, he told Juliet he loved her within like eight minutes. You could learn a thing or two.”
“Are you trying to manipulate me into saying I love you by making me feel bad about not stacking up emotionally against a child?”
“I don’t know, is it working?”
