Willow (Saraya Willoughby), aka "The Hardcore"

Another one down the hatch. Another rush of bitterness to wash away the aches and pains. Another warm, fuzzy feeling hitting that pit in her stomach. Willow was having herself a good night tonight. The type of night she'll only recall through online streams and random meet-and-greets with fans six months down the line. The ones where fans walk up to her, stoned off their asses, and try to talk about whatever crazy spot she did in some match she has absolutely no recollection of. Yet Willow will still politely smile and nod nevertheless, in order to suss out whatever it is they were smoking that night, and ask if she could have some. As long as it wasn't laced, or they wouldn't try to do anything with her, that's all that mattered in the end. Just like what happened straight after tonight's match.

She couldn’t remember what hit her first: The shots of pink lemonade-flavored vodka, or whatever strain it was that was in the vape pen that got passed to her outside. All she knew was that everything felt cloudy and she was rocking in her seat at the bar. There wasn't even any music, just the sounds of fans cheering, and all of the violent carnage that they have elected to cheer on.

Looking off to the side, Willow catches the sight of her friend Lyra getting a dollar bill stapled into her forehead. Her opponent's already gushing blood from her own forehead, courtesy of the light tubes that they took to the dome earlier. Just like the others in attendance, Willow cheered along, too far gone to truly care about the fact that, before the show started, Lyra had been adamant that she wasn’t going to take that spot during her match here tonight. That’s just how things were, though. Whether it be one of these bar shows, or out in some fancy outdoor wedding place, sometimes lines just needed to be crossed, for the sake of the thrill, and the sake of getting paid.

That’s exactly how Willow got caught up in the deathmatch wrestling scene in the first place. She had never intended on becoming one of those people that got by via bloodshed and stupid crazy stunts. But after one stupid chair shot went viral online, that’s all anyone ever tried to reach out to her for. To book her in these deathmatches, and watch her completely fall apart. Then again, with how the pay is? Willow can’t really complain. Sure, she’s doing spot shows two or three times a week, and most of those shows have her taking some real stupid bumps, but it helps keep a roof over her head, and ensures she remains relevant in the eyes of the fans. Besides, at just twenty four years of age? And with a body like hers? She could still go for a long time, provided she’s careful about what spots she ends up taking. And if doing deathmatches is what it takes for her to keep a steady gig going, then… It is what it is.

“C’est la vie, or whatever the fuck that one song says…”

Taking another shot, Willow staggers to her feet. A wave of nausea rushes over her, but she ignores it. Stumbling through the crowd, she tries to head off to the bathroom, only to get caught up in the roar of the crowd. She couldn’t tell what exactly happened, but judging by how Lyra was now standing in celebration, she figured that her friend had probably just won. Or her opponent just did something even crazier than Lyra would. Either way, Willow let out a cheer, followed by a loud catcall, doing so in light mockery of her friend. Of course, others joined in, considering just how good Lyra looked, even with a crimson mask pouring down her face. Willow certainly knew how to pick them, and being friends with Lyra? That came with some... Rather nice benefits, at times. Especially now.

Rolling out of the ring, Lyra heads straight to Willow, grinning. The two embrace each other, Willow leaning more heavily on Lyra than she's leaning on her. Some of the fans around them cheer, but others give them space, showing more respect for the couple than most others would assume. Lyra takes Willow by the arm, and drags to the women's restroom, away from the eyes of the fans. Once there, lips crash into lips. Neither one is sure of just who exactly started it, but neither one wants to end up being the one that ends it.

Eventually, Lyra runs out of breath first. She nips Willow on the bottom lip upon exit, and Willow lets out a drunken giggle.

“Hah… Hey, babe…” Lyra pants, running on fumes.

“Hey yourself, sexy." Willow slurs, showing signs of inebriation. "You get yourself all done up like this for me?”

The two's lips meet again, as do their tongues. The two of them are sloppy, but neither one seems to care. It's how they always liked it. How it always turned out. Lyra moves to Willow's neck, and gently bites down, causing Willow's hands to muffle out her scream. In retaliation, Willow grabs onto Lyra's ass. Her hands sink into it, and Lyra lets loose a throaty, depraved moan.

"You fucking little slut... I heard you with that catcall." Lyra breathes out, pulling Willow into an empty stall. The door behind them shuts, and Lyra locks it, just for safety.

"I know you did, Lyra. You look such a fucking mess." Willow responds, pulling Lyra onto her lap. The toilet seat's down, and there's no one else around.

"And you're fucking blitzed. How much did you have to drink?" Lyra laughs, arms wrapping around the back of Willow's neck.

"Not nearly enough, babe. Now shut up and fucking kiss me." Willow growls. "I'm not waiting for the apartment."

Within a matter of seconds, Lyra happily obeys. Lips meet lips, and Lyra's hands go lower. Her palms sink into the doughy ass of her 'friend', groping it with need. She pulls one of her hands back, and lets it fly into her rear. Willow howls out in pleasure, and intensifies her own efforts. By the time the nausea sets in, Willow cannot even tell. As Lyra goes to her knees, Willow vanishes completely. She lets out a huff of frustration, before looking down at the panties she somehow snatched before she bailed.

"I'm going to fucking ravage that woman when she gets back from her vacation..." Lyra moans, sitting herself on the porcelain and going to work, using the scent of her roommate as added inspiration.

“...She is one of the current biggest sensations in modern-day deathmatch wrestling, and one of Christian’s former wrestling school classmates, Miss Saraya Willoughby!”

Saraya Willoughby theme song

With another woman being introduced, all eyes turn towards the stage. A pale-skinned girl stumbles her way onto the stage, clearly taken aback by her newfound surroundings. But as the compulsion to keep walking takes hold of her, Willow - in her current state of mental haziness - opts not to struggle against it, instead continuing her rather awkward stumble towards the ring. Despite her obvious levels of intoxication, the reason she was selected for this show is made clear, given how her bottom-heavy frame sways with each step taken closer to the ring. It also doesn’t help how her shirt only covers just above her navel, giving those at home a nice view of the moon-touched skin that leads into her wide, womanly hips. With the camera swinging around, it manages to sneak ample rear clad only in a pair of black-and-leopard print trunks, which threaten to ride upwards on any singular given motion.

Once she makes it to the steel steps, however, her current state of inebriation becomes clear. Nearly missing the second step, she barely manages to make it up onto the apron, and is very quickly ushered into the ring. Once she's in the ring, Serenity wastes little time in sitting her down into a freshly summoned chair.

“Okay, Saraya. Welcome to Harem Hotel!” Serenity’s greeting is met with a light groan, as Willow looks around in a daze. “The show where you… Um, Saraya?”

Willow looks around the ring, her jaw falling slack. However much she had to drink and/or smoke is clearly too much for her to understand what's happening around her. Serenity tries to snap her back to attention, only for her target to remain inattentive, causing Serenity’s smile to fall from her face into a look of frustration.

Serenity sighs. “Alright, no." Serenity walks over towards Willow, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "I called for ‘The Hardcore’, not for ‘The Wasted’. If we’re going to do this, and we are going to do this, then we’re doing this right, with you not fucked up on ****.”

With a slight glint from her pendant catching some of the lighting overhead, Willow suddenly jolts awake. She blinks a few times in confusion, feeling completely refreshed and, more importantly, sober. The buzz she once had has been erased in an instant, leaving her far more attentive to where it is she currently sits.

“Huh? What the…” Willow blinks a couple more times, trying to make out her surroundings as best she can. “Did I take something laced?" She questions, looking down at her own hands. "I swear, Aidan told me he didn’t mess with that shit...” she muttered, before looking at the others in the ring with her. Once her eyes land on Christian, however, a wave of memories comes crashing into her.

The realization sinks in of just what Willow had been doing, prior to her coming down from her high. Her eyes begin to water, as she locks eyes with Christian. However, after a few seconds, her attempted smile begins to fade. Christian turns his eyes away, not wanting things to be awkward. Unfortunately, that feeling has already made itself at home. Willow wipes away her tears, her eyes heavy and despondent. Before either of them can speak up, Serenity does it for them.

“Ooh, drama already? What happened? Former partners?” Serenity tries prodding for info; as Willow looks away, Christian remains completely silent. “Aww, come on, it can't be that bad, right?" her continued attempts are stonewalled. This time, her face softens. "Is... Something wrong, Master?" She offers a sympathetic smile. "Aren’t you at all excited? This is the first time you’ve gotten to see Saraya since you dropped out of your training.” Serenity verbally prods him, clearly unaware of how Willow is wincing in response to each prod. “Aren’t you happy to see her, Master?" Opting to switch tactics, Serenity takes on a more teasing expression. "Or, are you one of those prudes who just don’t understand the beauty of Saraya’s car crash ring style?”

“Uhm… Could you, uh…” Willow speaks up, catching Serenity’s attention. “Could you… Please not call me by that name?” Willow asks. “It’s not like a… Dead name, or anything, but…” Willow trails off, muttering silently to herself. “I don’t... Like it, when people call me by that name.”

Completely forgetting about the drama buried between them, Serenity turns to face Willow. She walks over towards her, eyes full of understanding. “Oh… Oh, I am so sorry about that!" The host apologizes. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, right off the bat.” The host drops into a crouch to meet Willow's gaze, with Willow giving her a soft smile in exchange. Before she can respond, Serenity rises to her full height, facing the hard camera with a serious expression.

“Ahem." Serenity clears her throat, setting the tone. "We here on Harem Hotel might be keen on pushing the envelope at times. But when it comes to the self-identification of our own contestants and staff members? That is nothing for us to make light of, whatsoever." Serenity firmly states. A spotlight shines down onto her, seemingly out of nowhere. As she bathes in the light, the rest of the arena darkens, putting the focus on her. "After all, no matter how we might twist things, how our contestants choose to identify themselves as is always of great importance, no matter who they are, or what they might eventually turn into. Until stated otherwise, they are all still people, and at the end of the day, they deserve whatever freedoms they can get. Especially while they're on a show like this.”

With her impromptu PSA now completely taken care of, the lighting of the outdoor arena returns to normal. Serenity turns to face Willow, who seems to be taking the host’s words with confusion and gratitude.

“Uhm, Thanks… I guess?” Willow shrugs. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal or anything. I just... Don’t like the sound of that name, you know? It feels too… I don’t know, snobbish? I guess?” Willow suggests, trying to explain her own feelings. "Whatever, it's just not a huge deal."

“Oh, but it is!" Serenity replies. "Believe me, I understand what it’s like dealing with your own identity, or lack thereof.” Serenity comments, confusing Willow with her response.

“N-No, it’s… It’s not a big identity thing, uhm... You. I just don’t like the sound of it. That’s all.” Willow insists.

“And that’s perfectly fine. But just so you know, you’re always welcome to talk about it, if need be.” Serenity insists back.

"Uhm... R-Right."

A few seconds pass with neither Willow nor Serenity making a clear move. An awkward silence engulfs the arena, smothering any tension that'd been built up beforehand. Eventually, Willow is the one to break the ice.

“Oh, uh, if nobody else minds, you can all just call me Willow, okay?" Willow looks around the ringside area. "Otherwise… Ah, I don’t know, Just come up with a nickname for me.”

Between the others in the ring, both Penelope and Gail nod their heads in acceptance, Gail much more supportive in doing so than Penelope. Christian, meanwhile, sends a smile Willow’s way, which she returns happily, much to Serenity’s glee.

“Alright, Willow, now that we’ve figured that out, how about we get things off on the right foot, this time around?” Serenity offers, before going right back to her introductory speech. “My name is Serenity, and I’m here to welcome you to your new home away from home, here on Harem Hotel!”

While the audience applauds the title drop of the show, Willow looks on, equally as confused as she was before.

“Harem… Hotel? I don’t think I’ve heard of it. Is that some type of show or something?” Willow asks.

“Right you are, my dear. This is a reality show unlike any other, where you and seven other lucky women will be competing not only for a roster spot here in this newfound promotion, but for a coveted spot in Christian’s harem!”

“O…kay?" Willow's confusion only grows. "But, what’s a harem?”

Serenity sighs, her smile faltering. “Oh, goody. One of these girls…” Serenity mutters to herself.

Taking a deep breath, Serenity mentally prepares herself, having hoped to avoid having this sort of conversation. “It’s pro wrestling, it’s a sport for degenerates! She's a DEATHMATCH WORKER! How does this girl not know what a harem is?” Before she can speak up, though, someone else decides to answer that question for her.

“Look, it’s not that difficult, Willow. Basically, we’re here to fight over which of us gets to have the most sex with Christian.” Gail chimes in, inadvertently saving Serenity’s sanity, while also directly harming Christian’s.

“...Oh!” Willow blushes, her eyes darting over to Christian. Her eyes linger on his, before what Gail just said completely settles in. “Wait, but we weren’t… We were never anything more than just training partners, at best!" Willow exclaims. "A-And besides, I already have a girlfriend! W-Well, a roommate with a lot of benefits. N-Not that there’s anything wrong with him! I... I don’t mind being with guys or girls. But-”

“No, no, I totally get it. You want to stay loyal to your current sexual partner." Penelope reasons. "I respect that. Quite a bit, actually.”

Willow exhales, silently thanking Penelope for her comment.

“Well, I guess that’ll make it a lot easier for me, then.” Gail snarks, smirking as Christian buries his head into his hands, shooting Gail a slight glare for embarrassing him so freely.

“How can you just say that, Gail?” Christian groans into his hands.

“Oh, relax, Christian.” Gail lets loose a chuckle. “It’s not that big a deal… Master.”

Gail’s comment only serves as further catalyst for Christian, who blushes even harder.

“Hoo, Gail! Finally, someone’s looking to go and get it!” Serenity nods her head at Gail, before resuming her place in own introductions. “Now then, now that we’ve gotten our resident surprisingly wholesome deathmatch worker out of the way, how about something a bit closer to home?” Serenity sits down, right next to Willow, who still seems to be blushing over her earlier discovery. “You see, for every wrestling company out there, not everyone can be a winner. Sometimes, you need somebody who is there just to take the fall for a more popular act on the roster. Enter, the jobber: One of the longest-standing traditions in the history of professional wrestling.”

Serenity stands up, heading back towards the entrance side of the ring.

“However, just because they spend most of their time looking up at the lights, that doesn’t mean they can’t be memorable in their own right! Whether serving as a perennial underdog or a delusional fool with their own unrealized visions of grandeur, there have been plenty of jobbers who are remembered for far more than the ‘pin me, pay me’ mentality that most of them are held to.”

With that statement, Serenity motions out to the ramp once more.

“With this marking the halfway point of our starting contestants, please welcome the person who’ll be playing the role of ‘The Jobber’...”