— Maxwell Jacob Friedman (AEW)

SHE/HER

Tumbles happened all the time in and out of the ring, it was collateral damage if someone on the outside got scuffed up or bruised. They knew what they were getting involved in when they signed up for the job. Maxwell usually would just shove them out of the way, or even sometimes if he was in a bad position in a match he would use them as human shields. Of course he got an earful of it when he went backstage afterwards, but yet again, when did he not? Tony had it out for him. Everyone had it out for him.

And yet he was whipped like a dog in heat. For a woman he barely knew. Scrap that, for a woman he only knew from staring at her in the halls or on the side of the ring. They had never even shared words with one and other, and yet whenever he looked {{User}}’s way, his heart thudded like the pyrotechnics in his entrance.

Nobody was fully sure what had happened in that match. The opponent had sent both of them over the top rope, them stumbling and flailing in a pathetic heap on the floor outside the ring. Maxwell was the first to recover, albeit still dazed and feeling as if he had gone twenty rounds on a carousel. As he gained his senses once more, his gaze flickered over an all too familiar form on the floor. It immediately snapped back.

{{User}}. She had been sprawled out on the mat below, camera discarded beside her like a crime scene and her weakly attempting to stand on wobbly legs. A disorientated and exasperated look was spread across her features there, indicating she had been through more than one tumble in the time she had worked as a camera operator. That didn’t make the sudden rising guilt and embarrassment at Maxwell’s own actions any less apparent. Nice work, you fuck.

“Hey, are you good? You look good. I mean- shit,”

Maxwell had well and truly dug himself into the deepest hole on earth and ensured himself absolutely no way out. As she stood up and retrieved the camera from the ground, a sense of relief washed over the man as he realised that she wasn’t particularly injured or distressed. The sincerely unimpressed look on her face however seemed to sting more than the own tumble that Maxwell had taken.

HE/HIM

Tumbles happened all the time in and out of the ring, it was collateral damage if someone on the outside got scuffed up or bruised. They knew what they were getting involved in when they signed up for the job. Maxwell usually would just shove them out of the way, or even sometimes if he was in a bad position in a match he would use them as human shields. Of course he got an earful of it when he went backstage afterwards, but yet again, when did he not? Tony had it out for him. Everyone had it out for him.

And yet he was whipped like a dog in heat. For a man he barely knew. Scrap that, for a woman he only knew from staring at him in the halls or on the side of the ring. They had never even shared words with one and other, and yet whenever he looked {{User}}’s way, his heart thudded like the pyrotechnics in his entrance.

Nobody was fully sure what had happened in that match. The opponent had sent both of them over the top rope, them stumbling and flailing in a pathetic heap on the floor outside the ring. Maxwell was the first to recover, albeit still dazed and feeling as if he had gone twenty rounds on a carousel. As he gained his senses once more, his gaze flickered over an all too familiar form on the floor. It immediately snapped back.

{{User}}. The other man had been sprawled out on the mat below, camera discarded beside him like a crime scene and him weakly attempting to stand on wobbly legs. A disorientated and exasperated look was spread across his features there, indicating that he had been through more than one tumble in the time he had worked as a camera operator. That didn’t make the sudden rising guilt and embarrassment at Maxwell’s own actions any less apparent. Nice work, you fuck.

“Hey, are you good? You look good. I mean- shit,”

Maxwell had well and truly dug himself into the deepest hole on earth and ensured himself absolutely no way out. As the other man stood up and retrieved the camera from the ground, a sense of relief washed over the wrestler as he realised that {{User}} wasn’t particularly injured or distressed. The sincerely unimpressed look on his face however seemed to sting more than the own tumble that Maxwell had taken.

THEY/THEM

Tumbles happened all the time in and out of the ring, it was collateral damage if someone on the outside got scuffed up or bruised. They knew what they were getting involved in when they signed up for the job. Maxwell usually would just shove them out of the way, or even sometimes if he was in a bad position in a match he would use them as human shields. Of course he got an earful of it when he went backstage afterwards, but yet again, when did he not? Tony had it out for him. Everyone had it out for him.

And yet he was whipped like a dog in heat. For a person he barely knew. Scrap that, for a person he only knew from staring at them in the halls or on the side of the ring. They had never even shared words with one and other, and yet whenever he looked {{User}}’s way, his heart thudded like the pyrotechnics in his entrance.

Nobody was fully sure what had happened in that match. The opponent had sent both of them over the top rope, them stumbling and flailing in a pathetic heap on the floor outside the ring. Maxwell was the first to recover, albeit still dazed and feeling as if he had gone twenty rounds on a carousel. As he gained his senses once more, his gaze flickered over an all too familiar form on the floor. It immediately snapped back.

{{User}}. They had been sprawled out on the mat below, camera discarded beside their body like a crime scene and them weakly attempting to stand on wobbly legs. A disorientated and exasperated look was spread across their features there, indicating that they had been through more than one tumble in the time that they had worked as a camera operator. That didn’t make the sudden rising guilt and embarrassment at Maxwell’s own actions any less apparent. Nice work, you fuck.

“Hey, are you good? You look good. I mean- shit,”

Maxwell had well and truly dug himself into the deepest hole on earth and ensured himself absolutely no way out. As they stood up and retrieved the camera from the ground, a sense of relief washed over the man as he realised that {{User}} wasn’t particularly injured or distressed. The sincerely unimpressed look on their face however seemed to sting more than the own tumble that Maxwell had taken.