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puffymucher · 2 months

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The Ex

AKA a look into some of Hazel's personal struggles with herself and why- As well as her realizing the real reason she left for Pentagram City in the first place. This chapter covers her hesitance of talking about her time before working with Velvette.

TW FOR A BIT OF BAD EX TALK. the ex hasn't done nothin yet, we'll get there in the flashback

Today had started like any other day for Hazel.

She woke up decently early as the sinners screamed outside the window, slipping underneath the many arms, tails and legs alike from her partners. The bed creaked as she leaned her weight particularly hard, and the large hound had to hold her breath as the three still asleep adjusted accordingly, filling in the gap she'd made with no real hassle. It certainly was a sight, seeing Velvette curled up between the ridiculously larger Rosalina and the more average leaning Sage in bed.

Hazel's eyes scanned over the three once more, a crooked smile on her face as she finally made the effort to stand, scratching at the scruff of her chin as she made her way to the bathroom, stepping over discarded shoes and clothes from the night before, thrown away as they all filtered in to snuggle into bed. She did nearly fall, one of Velvette's heels being the cause, but she soon had recovered with a huff- Claw catching the doorway as she turned on the light.

It was still a bit jarring just how... Full the bathroom was. Hazel could recall many a times in her life where she wouldn't really think a tube of mascara left open would make her so soft, or the way the counter had been sanctioned off in zones for each of them made her snicker, but there were a lot of things she felt she'd outgrown. Herself, being one of them. Her tired eyes caught herself in the mirror, and as much as she was sure her girls would say she looked so "macho" and "handsome" rolling out of bed, she couldn't really find it in herself to agree with them. She combed, or at least tried to comb a claw through her thicker fur around her neck, but she found herself snagging a matt or two with even just the small effort. 'Shit, it ain't gettin' any better...' The hound growled to herself, a bit embarrassed over the fact that her simple method of forgetting it existed failed, yet again. As she continued to tug and yank at the knotted fur, an all too familiar feeling of dread prickled up her skin as she traced over something she'd thought she'd never remember.

It was a casual night out in the Lust Ring. Hazel herself had never really found herself going all that much to begin with since she moved here with her girlfriend, Indigo, a greed shark she'd met during her "daring escape". Not even a year ago, she'd finally escaped that damned house, and found herself.. Free. Of course, her heart grieved for her litter mates, her pack, but.. It was necessary. For survival, she told herself. Something she needed to do. It's what she needed to tell herself to get to sleep, at least. That wasn't really as important to her now. No, she was more focused on the stuffy air of the sleazy club Indigo had swore up and down about, that it was going to be an amazing night out and a perfect date all in all. That's at least what Hazel was told, and as she found herself getting pushed by another demon with no real respect, she realized that Indigo had gone off without her, again. Just like the last time, though this time Hazel couldn't really catch the shark demon within the crowd, and her heart sunk at the realization. Yet again, she'd been dragged around like some stupid pet dog, following after her girlfriend like a lost puppy before she was inevitably shoved off by another demon, before she inevitably found herself walking home alone again. Though, this time, she found herself busting open the doors much sooner than she usually would. No, she didn't sit around, sip awkwardly on her drink waiting at the door for her beck and call. Not anymore. No, tonight she walked with conviction, brows furrowed and her maw curled up into a snarl as she made her way to her and Indigo's apartment- This time she didn't even bother with the keys, her strength alone enough to rip the handle out of place. With that, she started the process of packing up her things. Considering the few months she'd been staying here, there wasn't much that she would really claim as hers, and not something that Indigo would demand back after just a day with an excuse that it really WAS hers. It was a bags worth of stuff, mostly clothes if anything, but.. Wait, where was- Where was her box of letters?

The recollection Hazel generally had with herself in the mirror every morning was soon cut short though, as she felt a pair of thinner arms wrap around her, a cheek nuzzling into her furry back as she looked down- Though, she knew who it was as soon as they walked through the door. "Mornin', Boss, miss me that much?" The reply she got in return was a muffled groan, and Hazel couldn't help but chuckle as she got distracted from her tangled mess, turning around and pulling Velvette into her arms with a snicker. "Gosh, yer grumpier than usual, what's got ya in a twist, love?" She was pretty sure that the few huffs and mumbles in reply were about her getting up and leaving, as she generally was the bed's heater at night. "...Did you make coffee yet?" Hazel rolled her eyes as she shook her head, which had Velvette groaning as she slammed her face back into the fluffy chest, though as she moved to wrap her arms around Hazel's neck, it.. Was rather odd that Hazel had gone up to intercept her, instead now holding her hands. The confusion was clear enough on the overlord's face, and Hazel gave a more awkward laugh. "Well- I better get started on yer cup, right?" The both of them knew that it really wouldn't be enough, and that they were going to be having a chat later together, if not with the four of them, but Velvette knew better then to press than that. So, as they unraveled, Hazel couldn't help her tail tucking between her legs as she exit the bathroom, feeling the overlord's gaze follow her the entire way, and apart of her was thankful for the plans today. She wouldn't get poked and prodded about it until later tonight, as, today was one of the days that Hazel was working with Rosalina- Another myth meeting, and this one she was actually invited too! That was exciting! Of course, she'd miss Velvette (though not the impending investigation), but she knew that Sage could handle it. Hell, Sage could come BACK if she died or was torn apart.. Hazel wasn't as lucky, but no one had really gotten that close. Not since....

Hazel huffed and shook her head as she started to brew the coffee, leaning against the counter as she watched the coffee drip into the pot, and she had the handful of mugs ready and waiting, every preference covered for. In moments like these, she was grateful that she only drank sugar in coffee form- And as she looked into her own cup, she swished the creamer around, ears flat against her head as she started to think again. 'What am I gonna tell her? That I just don't take care of it? She'll know I'm bullshittin' her.. And I ain't like lyin' to her much either. Fuck.'

The beep of the machine finishing it's pot had snapped her back, and as she poured the cups, she was met with Sage, who she handed a mug to with a smile and a little kiss to the top of the demon's head, which was met with an appreciative hum as they sipped at their mug, now leaning next to where Hazel continued to pour the other cups, not really minding the eyes on her. That was, until, Sage spoke up. "Mm, you seem like you're thinking about something, Hazelnut," How the fuck was she so easy? Hazel froze up, two mugs in hand, and she turned her head around, giving a nervous laugh. "Shoot, why do you say that, Bluebell?" The shakiness of her voice didn't help her case at all, and she nearly spilt the boiling hot coffee onto herself when Sage simply pointed at her tail. "You're not subtle, you never tuck your tail like that around here unless you were getting into some fun, and we all just woke up. I know you're quick- But, I'm assuming it's something else." It was hard to argue with that sort of logic, even with how stupid Hazel could be, and so she didn't. "Just.. Boss is gonna wanna talk to me, and I don't really know if I'm.. Ready?" Hazel sighed, now just staring at her cup, wishing she could just drown herself in it rather than talk about her mushy feelings about it. It was just fur, she told herself, she just.. Didn't want to go to a groomer yet. That's it. Nothing more. Too busy, most likely. That's what she kept telling herself. Sage took a few moments to ponder, tilting their head at the hound as they watched her internally struggle, before shrugging. "I can't force you to talk if you don't want to, I just was curious, love." Sage gives a soft little smile, raising their non-robotic hand up to gently caress Hazel's cheek, a gesture greatly appreciated with how she leaned into it. "...Thanks, sugar." Hazel mumbled out, that bushy tail of hers starting to finally wag again, and it was hard to deny that the demon's attempt at cheering her up had worked wonders.

"Now, you better get ready to go with Rosa, before Boss changes her mind and keeps you here." Hazel nodded in agreement as she scampered back off to the room, Sage's eyes following after her with a soft chuckle, enjoying the coffee and the show. - CHAPTER 1 END MAN. MAN ARE YALL READY FOR THE FUCKING LORE?? THIS FIC HAS REALLY BEEN A PAIN IN MY ASS AND THE REASON I HAVENT POSTED... i also will doodle some stuff for these probably idk

sage n rosa belong to thge pookies @theacedragon0w0 and @mirconreadzztuff22 also have fun @helluvadyke

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel x reader #velvette #oc x canon #oc x oc #THE polycule #the puffyverse

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himbos-hotline · 8 months

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"I've got a lot of bad shit that I'm taking to my grave." - agoraphobic by CORPSE For Cole

The dead man in the dream is you

Word count: 4303 words Ship: The polycule, Mostly focused on: Jay Orton/Adam Cole and Adam Cole + Wheeler Yuta Characters: Adam Cole, Jay Orton, Wheeler Yuta. Mentioned Matt Jackson Triggers: Gender dysphoria, anxiety, sex, yelling, mention of AI generated pictures Authors note: Trans girl Adam Cole Baybay. I have nothing else to say about this fic apart from Cole is "I just like being called a girl while having sex..and also afterwards...and also when I'm being cuddled.....and maybe always but we're not gonna talk about that" and then she has too. A lot of Coles internal thoughts about being trans being "wrong" or her being "broken" comes from my interal thoughts growing up catholic. Still he/him pronouns for Cole though. Read on ao3

Adam’s always thought of gender a bit like a coat that's always been a little too small for him. He slides his arms into the sleeves, watches how they squeeze his muscles into thin, toned muscles and long thick fingers that slide across the buttons as he grows up, squeezing his ribs and chest until the fat around his hips and the scruff of puberty pop out in a way that makes him look masculine. Makes him look like a boy.

In the mirror, Adam stares at himself in the changing room, watching from the corner of his eyes as other boys his age oogle and marvel at each other's bodies- flexing bulging muscles and pulling their boxers tighter to show off their bulges. Adam simply turns his eyes away and curves his shoulders, retreating to the safety of a bathroom stall until gym class has finished.

His sister painted his nails for the first time when he was eight. Adam remembers the smell, the way it almost burned as it wrapped around his brain as the sticky red liquid stained his nail bed. It shimmered under his sister's neon lights and Adam wore it until his father got home from work. The water almost burned his hands as his father stood over him, watching as he scrubbed the nail polish away before sending him to bed, ass as red as the nail polish still staining the bathroom sink.

A few weeks later, his parents sat him and his siblings down in the living room, faces set in a position of understanding. Adam was eight by the time he knew was divorce was, he always blamed himself, sitting on the top step as his parents argued long into the night about who would take what child, they never argued before the nail polish, before Adam had been so stupid to forget his place in the world, to forget his fathers teachings. Boys can't wear makeup or wander through the girls section, running their fingers across the hems of summer dresses and winter coats. Men can't paint their nails.

Adam buries the feeling deep down inside him. In high school, he takes a girl to the prom. His suit doesn't fit right against his body and as he stares up at his prom date, he wonders what it would be like to wear her dress, with its light pink flowers across the sleeves, the dainty blue of the fabric complimenting his tie. He gets crowned prom king, and stands on the stage, under the bright lights eyeing the prom queen sash leaning just off stage form the corner of his eyes. Wondering why Adam Cole: Prom Queen sounded better in his head.

After prom, Adam starts wrestling, finds a twisted sort of comfort in the masculinity in it all, the theatrics and blurring of lines. Adam didn't have to be ultra-masculine, with his self-cut hair and wide blue eyes, people fawned over him. Girls flocked to his crappy hotel rooms from the bars, desperate and eager for a scrap of attention and somewhere between their smudged mascara and parted, lip gloss painted lips, Adam finds a small part of himself.

They call him daddy and a part of him winces, so he simply presses them down further, staring at the smudged makeup left on his sheets long after they leave, he rubs off the lipstick kisses on his dick and stands under the shower long enough for the water to run cold and the mirror to fog up. Adam stares at himself through the cloudy mirror and sighs; wet hair plastered around his face makes it look rounder and for a few seconds a voice in the back of his head goes "there's a pretty girl." Adam shakes his head hard enough it hurts and wakes up aching and mournful for the next show, the next around of girls and the next wave of aching sadness that somehow only stops aching when Adam looks at himself in a fogged up mirror, breaking and mutating his face and frame until it almost looks like the fucked up person he is inside.

Adam's sure a part of his brain is broken; he should love how he loves, should adore women flocking and kneeling at his feet, eager for him to say pretty words to them, to give them a scrap of human affection. But he just isn't. He always wishes to sound like them, to be the one on his knees worshiping another man with his mouth and his body. Sometimes Adam tells the women he's sleeping with that they're "pretty girls'' and Adam's brain rushes with serotonin, floods with dopamine and that's enough to get him to finish and the crash comes harder than ever when he's left alone, a couple of dollars shorter and still filled with longing.

He goes to Japan and becomes a star, letting his self hate and confusion be his guiding light. A small part of his soul dies and comes back, reincarnated wrong and misshapen every night. He shifts and squishes the parts of himself that he doesn't like down, forcing them down as one of his friends stretches him open, whispering that he's a whore into the hot air of the hotel, he smiles and nods, letting everything melt away from his brain.

In all honesty, Adams is not sure why brings it up around Matt one night when it's just the two of them in the hotel room. Matt’s hand is rubbing against the inside of his thigh, trailing around the flexing muscle when Adam breathes out "c-could you call me a girl?" It sounds stupid from the way it comes out, small and shaky and from the wide-eyed stunned look on Matt's face he wasn't expecting it.

"I uh.." Matt starts, his hand stilling on Adam's thigh, fingers suddenly sweaty against the ripped fabric of his jeans. Adam sighs, biting through the inside of his cheek hard enough that it bleeds. He swallows the taste down alongside his desires and shakes his head at Matt slowly. They never talk about it again, Adam never gets to be called a pretty girl during his time in The Elite, just lets whoever wants him open him up, whispering their desires at the space above his head.

Soon, it almost becomes a comfort. Someone fucking into him, gasping at how tight he is, how wet he is around them and then the shuddering feeling of being filled feels like Adam's sticking parts of his soul together. He clings to whoever's inside of him, feeling the way they plunge deeper into him, the squelching of their bodies becomes like a chorus line in his head. Hotel rooms become his heaven, hotel bathrooms become his own personal hell; alone with nothing but his thoughts and the ever longing feeling that he's wrong. Somehow.

Something about Adam Cole is wrong, fundamentally something about him is wrong and broken and twisted. It hangs over his head like a personal stormcloud, painting him in the dark colors of callousness and smugness. Even when he's above the clouds, flying back to the states, Adam's mouth still tastes wrong, something sickly sweet stuck to his throat and something painful gnawing at the bottom of his ribs. The plane rocks in the storm and Adam allows fear to take over, pretending that the splattering of tears and the aching sobs that rattle soundlessly around the empty cave of his ribs is simply fear and not the desire to finally become right in someone's eyes.

It's storming the first night it happens; thunder rolls right above him, shaking the windows of his and Jay's shared hotel room. The rain almost overpowers the rushing of the shower and Adam sits with his back against the wall, trembling. Lightning highlights his trembling form as Jay returns from the shower dressed in his hoodie, she smiles down at him, her lips thinner without the piercings. Something in Cole stirs deeply as another rush of thunder paints the blues of his eyes with fear. "Hey the storm will pass promise" Jay whispers, kneeling in front of her suitcase as she fixes her hearing aids, fishing something out with her free hand.

"You're wearing my hoodie" Cole says instead of believing Jay's words. There's something pooling at the bottom of his stomach when Jay turns to him and nods, holding out and shuffling a pack of cards, there's small fingerprints on the corner of the cards, her nimble fingers still shower-wet and her chest still softly blanched, Adam trails the pinkness down until his hoodie cuts it off, just above her breasts. He swallows a little thickly and yelps, tucking back into himself when another round of thunder rocks the room.

"Hey." Cole stares down at Jay's feet, bare and blurry from behind his tears and he doesn't even remember when she stood up, there's a card stuck to her heel and when Jay shifts on her feet, Cole spots it's the queen of hearts. He smiles to himself, twitching his fingers against his knees as lightning flashes across the starry night sky. "Adam." Adam feels Jay's fingertips brush against the curve of his jaw and his breath halts in his throat, his chest stills and the tears fade for long enough to stare into Jay's mismatched eyes as she cups his chin in her hand and whispers

"Dance with me."

Cole raises an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a small smile. One that's as quick and fleeting as the lightning that paints itself across the sky, He hide his face in her hands, breathing in the smell of her hand lotion until he feels the ring-worn tips itch across the stubble on his cheek and Adam can't help but follow her movement, letting his eyes trail slowly up until he's staring at her, lost in the emotion that floats in Jay’s like a burning fire and Adam, reaches up taking the hand that Jay outstretches.

He stares at her and takes her hand slowly. The world seems to shift under Adam's feet as Jay positions his hands; one resting against the curve on her hip, fingers interlocking and he stares down at their feet; bare and cold as they shift over scattered playing cards that once held all their attention. "That's it, you're doing great Adam." Jay whispers, voice gentle that it almost gets lost in the roar of the rain against the covered windows. Adam relishes in the praise, tilting his head back against the moonlit spotlight, watching the silver glow as it dances between the clouds, following their movements.

He feels his thighs press against the metal of the bed and Adam can't help the cautious glance back at the still fresh sheets before turning his attention back to Jay, staring at her with a million questions. The grip on her hip tightens, the pressure in Adam's chest grows and when he watches Jay glance at his lips, it explodes. Her lips taste of butterscotch and ramen noodles and Adam tilts his head downwards, relishing in the fact that she's kissing back, Jay bites his lip and Adam gasps into the pain, letting it twist around his brain. Adam's weak and prey-like in Jay's hands, putty for her to mold into whatever she wants. There's no fight for dominance when Jay slides her tongue into his mouth, nails leaving crescent moons in the skin under his shirt.

Adam paws at the stolen hoodie when his back collides with the bedside table, free hand pirouetting in the freefall until his body collides with the mattress. Jay's weight feels right as it presses into his hips as the two of them breathe the same air, fanning out raspy want against each other's kiss-swollen lips. "Do you want this?" Jay asks and Adam can't remember the last time someone asked.

He stares at her, shifts under her weight and needily rolls his hips against the inside of her thigh, he's hard already and before Adam would think he's being pathetic; being needy and begging silently as someone stares down at him with a glimmer of lust in their eyes. He bites his bottom lip, feels skin stick to his tooth as he breathes in, surging up to steal a kiss, soft and gentle before he nods. "Yes."

Jay smiles, whispering "good boy" against his lips and Adam feels something in his head start thumping, pounding and sending pleasure skating down his spine; it's cold as it tangles like vines around each vertebrae, shifting them into a straight line, making Adam's head roll back as Jay's lips start decorating him in soft kisses, he can feel the chill of her skin as against his as she strips away his shirt, revealing him pounding heart and twitching stomach to the lightning. Adam only flinches when Jay's weight leaves him and he hears her knees collide with the floor.

There's silence in the hotel room for a few seconds as Jay's hands rest against his thighs, fingers itching at the knots just under his skin. "Yeah?" Jay asks, wanting to clarify once again as everything teethers on a thin edge between friendship and something that Adam doesn't quite understand. He nods anyway, lifting his hips with a needily high-pitched whine that makes Jay laugh against the skin just above his cock.

Adam follows her lips across his thighs, kissing at his knees before her tongue darts out to lick against the tip of his throbbing cock. Adam barely spots Jay raising a hand off his hip as his eyes close as bliss spreads warmth throughout his body. He's floating and the lump in the back of his head thaws like an iceberg; it trickles down Adam's jawline until it floods his mouth, pressing against his lips. Jay's mouth is warm and wet and Adam's mouth is dry when he gasps out "daddy please more-!"

There's a soft huff around his cock and he barely has time to rise onto his elbows before Jay is pulling off, the tip of his tongue tracing a vein. She looks at Adam with something in her mismatched eyes, her lips twitch into a small smile and the hand clinging to his wrist squeezes. "My girl likes that huh?" She says, the smile turning into a smirk and Adam feels like he could cum without her touching him again.

Girl. He's her girl. Adam feels his mouth hang open in a gasp, one that's greedy and eager. His cock twitched neglected against his stomach, sweat pooling under his arms. He's silent and floaty. He's a girl and Adam nods quickly, swallowing thickly just to fill the silence in the hotel room. Jay isnt looking at him the way Matt did, her eyes are soft despite the blown out pupils and her fingers and massaging at the back of his hand, itching against the flames of his tattoo as they lick against his wrist.

"yes sir..." Adam says just to fill the silence, melting into the mattress as Jay returns herself to his side as she kisses him softly, fingers tugging his hair at the roots.

The rest of the night is a hazy bliss filled with acceptance and soon Adam starts chasing the high again. Jay pins him against empty corridor walls breathing out how good he's being as Adam cums onto the floor, he stares at Jay with eyes flooded with euphoria and she smiles, licking his cum off her fingers as she kisses him, whispering "You're such a good girl, now c'mon clean it up." Giggling when Cole sinks onto his knees to kiss the inside of his thighs.

The two of them fall into a routine, winning matches together, Jay carrying the team, whispering how proud she is in Adam's ear then letting him pull her backstage, hands already finding themselves in her hair. Their bodies move in quick frantic paces, Adam chasing and sinking his teeth in the euphoria, letting Jay hold him as he sinks down from his high, whispering softness into his ear before tucking himself back inside his ring tights and letting Jay wander towards the locker room, wearing the beard rash as a gift.

During the night, Jay tells Adam secrets, brings up memories from their time in CZW and Adam wonders if Jay remembers the accidents that decorate the scars on her body, and wonders if the two of them were destined to meet. Or if the burning in Adam's chest is simply what he felt sleeping with the women all those years ago; just lipstick kisses that Adam can rub away off his skin, barely tracing the outline before he rubs the pinkness away.

But Jay doesn't disappear like the women of Adam's past; she stays like the Florida heat, floating over Adam's head and keeping him warm. So warm that under her eyes his skin bristles, sweat tangles into his hair and he spends longer and longer in the shower after shows, trying to wash the heat away, the water turns cold and Adam wonders what this feeling is, this self-sacrificing dangerous feeling. Like Jay could carve Adam's heart out with her bare hands and Adam would let her, smiling all the way as he follows the blood twisting around the delicate dents of her wrists, the scars on her arms.

He shuts the shower off and rubs a hand across his chest, a small part of his brain surprised to feel his heart still pounding away under his chest, he listens to it as water chills against his skin, and he's sure in the easily broken silence of the locker room shower, his heart is calling Jay's name.

Adam thinks this is what love feels like and fear bristles under his skin. He dries off and spots Jay waiting for him, she's scrolling on her phone and Adam sees the bright colors of a game shimmer against her eyes. "What ya doing?" He asks, chuckling when Jay jolts in surprise.

"My cousin showed me something, it's a filter thing that changes your face. Like it makes you look like a gal" Jay smiles a little, shifting up the clothing box as Adam sits down, their shoulders press together and Adam feels his chest start to deepen as her phone loads a picture and Adam feels his stomach drop. He looks at the face reflecting back at him on the phone screen and he twists his hands together.

"Huh..." Is all that Adam can remember saying. He stares at the person on the phone and swallows; the soft round eyes stained with makeup, bottom lips jutted out in a small pout. Adam thinks she looks perfect, beautiful. She looks like how he imagines himself. He shakes himself from inside his own mind and looks over at Jay, pushing a smile onto his face. "What app is that?"

That's the only thing that stays the same. Jay comes and goes, appears on the main roster, Adam leaves for AEW and finds himself in old friends. He fills himself with anger and bitterness. But the app still stays on his phone, pictures stay hidden on his phone and Adam pretends not to love the look on the fake-Adam's face whenever he looks at them. He turns his phone off and locks his fantasies away with the AI generated makeup and the shimmer of soft curling hair.

Months turn to a year and Jay turns up again. They fall in love again, Adam finds his place settled snugly in a polycule, the center of a little universe that people look at with gentleness and confusion. It makes Adams stomach flutter and as he lays his head down slowly on the pillows, he stares up at Wheeler, eyebrows furrowing when he pulls his shirt over his head.

"What happened to your chest?" Cole asks, pointing at the scars under Wheeler's pecs. He doesn't mean to pry but when Wheeler pats Cole on the shoulder, there's something unspoken between the two friends; Wheeler's smile is well-worn and he tells the story like it's something he's memorized.

"They're top surgery scars. I'm trans." He chuckles at Cole's confused face, ruffling his hair. "I was born a girl but I never really felt like a girl. My parents always thought I was a "tomboy" and it turns out I was just a guy." He shrugs, rubbing Cole's cheeks when his blue eyes drop to the floor of the hotel room. "It's a bit like..." He pauses, opening his mouth before to take a breath before Cole butts in mumbling

"Visiting your childhood home after someone else has moved in? Your body feels different but like..."

"It's the wrong house for the right person, yeah." Wheeler smiles, patting Cole's leg. The two of them spend the rest of the night speaking, Cole listening intently to everything his boyfriends boyfriend has to say. Cole never mentions his sister painting his nails or the acceptance he felt in knowing that whatever was wrong with him had a name, that Cole wasn't broken. Just a ghost haunting the halls of a house long since changed.

"I've got a lot of bad shit that I'm taking to my grave." Cole starts one Wednesday before the show. He's meant to be in a tag match with Kenny and Hangman against FTR, They have matching gear but as Cole sits in the empty male locker room, everything feels off, like Coles picked up a bag that's too heavy for him to carry and its pulling everything down from his shoulders, turning him inside out until Adam isn't sure what he's saying. He purposely ignores the reflection in the mirror, the ghost of Adam Cole staring back at him as he fiddles with the new leather jacket and pulls out the laces of his boots.

Jay stares at him through the reflection in the mirror, eyebrows pinched up in confusion; hands fiddling with the pockets of her ring jacket, Adam admits to himself silently that he's a little jealous of how her ring bra cups her breasts, the way the pink latex makes them the center of attention, highlighting her tattoos under her breasts, the ones across her shoulders. He looks down at his own body, still hidden under the brown cotton fabric of his civilian clothes. He knows they're running late, that their match is next but the idea of taking his clothes off, looking at himself in the mirror or from the corner of his eyes makes him feel sick. He stays frozen on the chair in the empty locker room twisting his ring trunks and leather jacket around his fingers.

There's silence between them and Cole swallows thickly, pressing his knuckle between his eyes. He feels like he wants to cry.

"Everything's wrong."

"Does it not fit? Is the jacket too tight, I don't think people would care if you're wearing your black one sweetheart. if it's not the right color we can get Claudio to sew something on there quick, Maybe a little Adam Cole si-"

Cole raises his head so quickly it makes him dizzy. "You're not listening!" His voice comes out louder than what he intended it too but Adam feels like the words are just vomiting out his mouth, his stomach feels empty with every word he says. "Everything is wrong. Its not the fucking ring gear!" He has to pace, wincing a little at the sound of leather hitting the floor. "It's not right!"

"What's not right Adam? I don't understand." Jay follows him with her eyes, running a hand through shortcut curls, Adam knows she would understand if he just admitted it to her, He sees Jay glance up at the clock on the wall, biting the inside of her cheek and everything Adam's ever felt rises to just under his skin and he picks at it like a thorn.

"I want to be a girl!" The thorn pops through his skin and Adam feels faint, empty as he slumps against the wall until his ass collides with the cold, dirty floor. He hides his face in his hands, swatting an empty water bottle away. "I want to be a girl." He whispers, softer this time and when he swallows, it feels like he's trying to shove himself back into his lungs. He can't look at Jay, so he stares everywhere else in a locker room that wasn't made for him.

"Oh." Cole hears Jay whisper, voice as soft as a summer's wind and Adam shakes his head, pushing his tears away as he curls deeper into himself again.

There's worry across his face when he finally looks up and stares into Jay's eyes. It's a position he remembers being in , a long time ago where she held his vulnerability in his hands and cupped it so gently it looked like she was Death carrying a soul towards the afterlife. "You hate me- fuck you hate me and I get it! I get it I understand you hate me fuck, I'm sorry I'm sorry!"

He feels her fingers under his chin, rubbing tears off the dimples in his cheeks. He follows her fingers, follows the tattoo up her arm and feels the corner of his lips twitch when Jay cups his cheeks, wiping tears away before whispering

"How could I hate such a pretty girl?"

Jay smiles and Cole smiles back, snuggling his face into her hand. "You don't hate me?" His voice is rough, still wet with tears as he searches Jay's face for any hint of a joke.

"Never. I love you." Jay whispers and Adam finally settles into that feeling that he's always chased through sex and pixel fantasies.

Acceptance.

"You've always been a little bit of a princess."

Princess. Adam likes that.

taglist: @allelitesmut @homoeroticgrappling @dustinslovehandles @paradoxunknown @katries @mrsmatt @echoxshxrx @malewifemoxley @kass-the-kitten @itsnoosetome @racerchix21 @chuckstaylors @jacedoe @mandiableclaw @tahiri-veyla

#adam cole #wheeler yuta #the polycule #trans femme adam cole #mouse writes

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