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turtletaubwrites · 28 days

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Misty Eyes ~ Part 4

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 5041

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: This new life feels like a dream, and you're finding it hard to believe. How could you be here, how could you be safe? How could you be wanted?

Author's Note: Heeyy, so I swear there's smut in here, but our misty eyed reader has trauma, so a little patience is required.

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

“You’re such a–”

Law kissed his laugh into your mouth, and you couldn’t hold onto your outrage.

Instead, you held onto him.

Law.

He was alive. He was with you. He was kissing you.

One of his hands teased into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along your cheek. You didn’t know what to reach for, your fingers clawing into his shirt while you went to pieces.

His kiss was somehow desperate and gentle. Deep and slow, with needy sounds shared between you. Writhing under the weight of his body, your eyes went misty from overwhelm. You wanted to pull him inside your chest, keeping him in the hole he’d carved, so you could feel this way forever.

“Are you okay,” he breathed, his thumb smoothing away the grateful tears.

“So good,” you laughed, the sweet smile he gave pulling a happy sob from your throat.

Law kissed along your temple, your cheek, following your jaw down as you gasped, your breath shuddering through you. He breathed along your skin, tracing the tip of his nose, then his lips over the crook of your neck before leaving gentle kisses, a deep hum vibrating through him.

Your skin was electric, shivers running through you as you arched your back. Breathy whines escaped you, crying out when he rasped your name.

You tugged at his shirt, moaning as you yanked it up to feel his skin. He pulled back from your struggle, and your breath caught when he stared down at you. His golden eyes were dark as he pulled his shirt off, your eyes fluttering back at the sight of his tattooed skin. His body caged you in before he tasted your lips again.

He was still pinning you, your thighs trapped beneath his weight.

But that gave you more access to pull at the buttons of his jeans, whining when he stopped your frantic fingers.

“Can I take my time with you,” Law asked, his husky voice making you shake. He brought your knuckles to his lips before he looked around, brows creasing at the sight of hate papering the walls. “There’s a couch in my quarters next door, do you–”

Your breathless “yes,” interrupted him, and he kissed you again before helping you up. He laughed at your pout when he pulled his shirt back on, before leading you by the hand.

“Aren’t you the captain? Can’t you do what you want,” you whispered behind him while he looked back and forth down the hallway.

He ignored you, pulling you toward the next room when he saw the coast was clear. You couldn’t help the giggles that escaped, echoing down the corridor. Your laughs only grew when he huffed, pressing you against the closed door when he got you inside.

“Do you remember sneaking into the storeroom to steal weapons?”

His scolding glare faltered, his lips quirking as you watched the memory form in his mind.

“Yeah, you got us caught,” he taunted, tracing his fingers along your hair, his eyes seeming to eat up every detail of your face. Including the indignant furrowing of your brows.

“I did not! It wasn’t my fault, I only tripped because Cora dropped his…”

It was subtle, but the slight grimace on Law’s face made you want to never speak again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t think I know what really happened with you and–”

“It’s fine. I don’t wanna talk about it,” Law straightened, pulling back from you before adding, “not right now.”

How do I fuck up literally everything?

“Come on,” he tugged at your fingers with a small smile. His quarters were large, and you bit your lip at the sight of his bed, his covers ruffled from last night’s sleep. He gestured for you to join him on the couch, but you skirted around him.

“Oh my gods, are you kidding me?”

A large set of shelves lined the wall behind the couch, and you misted out of his grabbing hands to get a closer look.

Turning back to him with a laugh, your eyes wide with gleeful shock, you pointed at the displays.

“I haven’t seen these in ages!”

You reached into the shelf, picking up one of the early Sora comics from its display stand.

“Hey, careful,” Law cautioned, throwing his long legs over the back of the couch to take the thin book from your grasp.

“Really,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as he returned the book with care. You looked over the rest of the shelves, leaning in to examine the rows of coins he’d displayed between the comics.

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

“Hobbies are important for maintaining mental health,” he said blandly, not meeting your eyes as he looked over his collection.

“Whatever you say, nerd,” you laughed, touching his waist to force him to look at you. “I think it’s cute.”

He scowled as you bounced on your toes, narrowing his eyes before giving in, pulling you into a kiss.

“Shut up.”

His soft command touched your lips, your laughter still humming through the kiss. Grinning, you curled your fingers into his black hair.

“Make me.”

Law huffed a laugh, your favorite smirk shining through before you squealed as he picked you up. He sat you on the back of the couch, legs scrambling around his waist. Your mind was empty of everything, but the need to feel more of him.

Until you slid backwards.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized, gripping your arms before your back could hit the cushions with your head toward the floor. He helped you turn, moving your legs to the side so you laid across the long couch.

“Already trying to kill me?”

You couldn’t remember feeling this light, this free, as you did teasing him. As he crawled on top of you, the weight and scent of him making you sigh. The feel of his tongue trailing your neck before he nibbled at your ear, bringing another squeal while you shivered. The look in his eyes almost brought tears to your own.

I can’t believe he’s real.

“Not yet,” he purred, tracing his hand along your waist. He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you until you couldn’t take it. You whined, fighting with his shirt until he grinned and pulled it off.

“Impatient–” he scolded, giving a surprised laugh when your hands reached the waistband of his jeans again. Law moved you gently so he could sit beside you, but you wasted no time in straddling him. You’d already tossed your shirt aside, fingers reaching for the clasp of your bra.

“Hey, hold on, Y/N,” he hummed, hugging you against him to slow you down. The sound of your heart somehow pounded in your head, even though it was trapped in the next room.

Law sat back, his warm hands stroking down your arms.

“You’re gorgeous,” he praised, eyes soft as he gazed at you. His head fell back, letting out a surprised moan when you rocked your body forward. The feel of his hard cock through all that fabric stunned you, and your body grinded onto his on instinct.

His whispered, “fuck,” was lost in a feverish kiss, and you managed to tear your bra off while his strong hands pulled your hips down further.

“Wait,” he muttered, voice almost pained. Pulling away, his eyes rolled back slightly at the sight of your bare chest. You had to bite your lip hard not to reach for him again.

“What is it?”

Worry had broken through your question, and you couldn’t fight the fears that crept in. Both of you panted for a few moments, lungs fighting for air after stealing it from each other’s lips.

He doesn’t want me. How could he want me after Doffy touched me?

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he checked in, smoothing the hair from your face. “We don’t need to rush anything.”

You knew his words should be comforting, but the hot pressure of tears built in your throat, your mind filling with the torment of words that you knew weren’t your own.

‘My disgusting little doll. So pretty. So sick. That��s the only thing you’re good for, huh? Such an empty little toy. Maybe one day you'll be worth more. Think you can carry the blood of kings in this weak body of yours?’

“Y/N? Y/N, you’re safe.”

Part of you heard his voice while your body stayed frozen, eyes stuck wide as your nails dug into his shoulders. Fighting to shake free, you mumbled what was meant to be an apology as your hands slumped onto your lap. The sticky weight of wet cement kept every thought and movement sluggish, and you barely reacted when Law pulled a thin blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping you up.

“Mmsrry,” you slurred, unsure how long you’d been frozen. He rubbed his hands lightly on your blanket covered arms, shaking his head.

“Don’t be. Just let me know what you need, okay? Can I get you some water?”

A jarring laugh fell from your lips, but you managed to nod. He sat you on the couch, fussing with the blanket to make sure you were comfortable and covered. Burning tears pricked your eyes as he went into an adjacent room. The sound of running water covered a strangled cry, but your eyes were dry when he returned with a glass.

Law sat on the coffee table, but stayed quiet, leaving your thoughts to berate you for putting him through this. Shame piled on you, until something in you cracked open, his gentle question opening the way.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You can do surgery,” you remembered, the words rough and empty.

“Yeah, I can,” he confirmed after a pause. Your body almost went slow again, but the urgency of terror pushed you, forcing you to reach for help.

“Can you, please… please, sterilize me?”

Your fragile voice strained high at the last words, and the rocking of your body sped up, your eyes clamping shut.

“Please, Law, I can’t–”

“I’m right here, Y/N. You can talk to me.”

Tears fell onto your thighs as you looked down. Nauseating guilt poured through you, a confession flooding from your lips like bile.

“I was selfish. I wasn’t ready. I’m too weak.”

Law argued softly, his hand on your shoulder doing nothing to stop the stream of ugly truths.

“I tricked… I made her help me,” you bawled, memories flowing in until you shook with shame. “Baby 5 still does everything. I took advantage of her. He would have hurt her, killed her! I’m disgusting, I’m sick. How could I–”

“Y/N, stop,” he commanded, shocking you into stillness. “You are not sick. You were a prisoner. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I–” you choked, blinking into his steady gaze, “Doffy said I’d finally prove myself if I… If I could carry a superior life in my body. If I could survive it tearing itself out of me.”

Your ragged breath caught in your lungs at the sight of Law’s towering rage, a barely contained snarl only dropping when he released the bruising grip he’d taken on your shoulder. You interrupted his apology, somehow feeling calmer after his display of anger.

“Baby 5’s compulsion has only gotten worse over the years,” you explained, detached from the story now as you followed Law’s orders. “I told her I needed her help, and she did it, even though she disagreed. Even though she would be punished if he found out.”

~🔪🔫🗡️~

“Shouldn’t you be asking the young master about this,” Baby 5 frowned, crossing her arms as she assessed you.

“Yes, but–”

“Are you keeping secrets from him,” she accused, one of her arms shifting into a sickle to hold against your throat, even though she knew it wouldn’t connect. “I knew you were weak, but I never thought you’d be a traitor.”

“Please, Baby 5,” you begged, hands misty as you held them toward her, “I need you. I need your help.”

“... You need me?”

~🔪🔫🗡️~

The gravity of what you’d done sank into you again, but his waiting gaze pushed you through, separating from the pain and shame behind your confession.

“I wasn’t ready. I never wanted to be ready. Especially for him. Even when I wanted to be his, I never wanted that. He promised I’d be rewarded, that I’d be worthy of the family. But I never wanted kids, and I knew that he… I knew I might not survive–”

Fear and bile caught up with you, leaning forward over your lap to hit your fists against your forehead.

“We’re safe here,” he reminded you, grabbing your wrists gently until you shuddered, sitting up again.

“I couldn’t go anywhere without him knowing. I wouldn’t be able to hide pills without someone finding them, and reporting me. Everyone…” you choked out, swallowing the humiliation that threatened to spill into the world, “everyone knew what I was. Everyone knew that the only thing I’m good for–”

“Stop saying that,” he seethed, his knuckles going white as his fists clenched in his lap. The rage in him relaxed your body, nodding before you went on.

“I made Baby 5 steal birth control shots for me, and she’d give them to me every three months. I put her life at risk, he would’ve… I’m so selfish.”

Your sins were revealed as the man before you shook beneath his skin. Watching the play of muscles flexing in his jaw was almost soothing.

“I have two months left of this shot,” you pleaded, head falling back against the couch. “Please do the surgery. Please.”

Law stared at you for too long. Your body went weak, slow tears dripping down your temples to your ears, and you were too spent to wipe them away.

I’ll never be safe. Doffy will find me. He’ll chain me up until I give him what he wants. I’ll birth another monster that will taste my blood on their lips before I’m free to die.

If Doffy doesn’t just torture and kill me as soon as he catches me.

“I can do it in a way that can be reversed,” he breathed, his words icing your veins, “but I don’t know another doctor that would know how to reverse it for you safely.”

“I don’t want it reversed,” you flew forward, clawing at his hands. “Just do it, please! If you can reverse it, you don’t have to believe me, but I swear it’s what I want.”

“... Can we think about it for a few days,” he coaxed.

Slow hit your system again.

Of course he wouldn’t do that. It’s all I’m good for.

“I’m not saying no.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, the embarrassment of this whole interaction making you want to sleep forever. “I’m sor–”

“Stop,” he rasped, his fingers in your hair as he cradled your face. “How can I help you feel better right now?”

Another manic laugh left your throat, and you cringed at yourself, fighting not to apologize again.

“Do you,” Law cleared his throat, a tentative smile tugging at his lips, “do you wanna read Sora with me?”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you miss that little traitor?”

“N-no, Doffy, I just–”

He snatched the wanted poster from your grasp, sneering before ripping it in half, letting the pieces fall to the marble floor.

“It’s funny,” he huffed, pinching your cheeks between his long fingers, “you’ve been so loyal all these years, and that boy betrayed our family. But he’s the useful one.”

Holding in your cries at his punishing grip, you braced yourself for whatever came next.

It was a brutal kiss, and you fell into it, giving everything you were to your king.

Doffy pulled back, that wide grin beaming down at you, his fingers tracing your face, pressing into your mouth.

“Such a pretty doll.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

Small whimpers from your own lips shook you awake, and you stilled. The heat and pressure of Doffy’s body didn’t seem to be near.

And the sheets weren’t silk.

“Good morning,” Law rasped, his hair beautifully mussed as he looked up from a book. The couch looked cozy with his pillow and blanket, bringing a disgruntled whine from your throat as you stretched across his lonely bed.

“Are you up for work today?”

He chuckled at your second whine, and you felt his weight on the edge of the bed while you buried your face in the pillow.

“You don’t wanna disappoint Ikkaku,” he teased, shaking your shoulder gently. “Believe me, I know.”

More wordless complaints made him laugh, and that sound alone got you to shake your sleep away.

That, and the soft kisses he gave, the slow sharing of morning breath that kicked you both to the bathroom to brush teeth, fingers pinching at each other's ribs.

So fucking cute. Until you left his quarters, and he held up that stoic face in front of his crew, even though you could tell they saw through it.

The Surgeon of Death. That angry, smirking, dangerous kid that turned into a vicious Warlord of the Sea.

He was a sweetie pie.

I can’t wait to call him that.

You had a feeling that “Weps” would be your favorite position on the ship. There was something about the sonar that scratched a part of your brain, and Ikkaku was still the most relaxing person to be around. No need to fill the quiet with chatter, and no personal questions to skirt. Just instructions, a few jokes now and then, and the occasional “no slouching at sonar, slacker,” always followed with a wink.

“Ooh, I think you’re in trouble.”

Your head shot up at her whispered tease, only to find Law's grumpy face assessing you from the doorway.

Was I slouching?

“Our new recruit will join you for morning shifts for the rest of the week, and I expect a full report on her performance.”

“Yes, captain,” she nodded, her face matching his serious tone. You tried not to gulp.

“Come with me,” the captain ordered, and you found yourself slipping easily into obedience, low level anxiety wrapping comfortably around you.

“Am I in trouble,” you tried to joke, keeping your voice quiet in the halls.

“What? No,” he shook his head, gesturing to the now familiar door. “It’s lunchtime.”

Your soft, “oh,” was drowned out by the crew, although there weren’t many in the galley at the moment. Jean Bart’s greeting boomed from his massive form, the sound heavy enough for multiple pirates.

Anxiety stuck with you throughout the meal, up until Law brought you to the training room.

“I thought we were doing an interview today,” you asked, feet still planted in the hallway.

“Changed my mind. Unless you’re too scared to fight me,” he deadpanned, walking into the room without glancing to see if you’d follow. That feeling was back. That familiar, yet thrilling feeling of playful competition, and it pulled you out of your spiral.

“Jerk,” you huffed, chasing after him.

“Disrespecting your captain again,” he tutted as he pulled you onto the mats. He faced off with you with a smirk, looking you up and down while you moved into a fighting stance. “You’ve got the nerve to mouth off when you’re this out of shape?”

You were the first to strike this time, and it did not go your way.

“You know, you could be a little nicer,” you grumbled, nudging his book with your toes. After an embarrassing training session, annoyingly separate showers, and a dinner with too many energetic crewmates, you shoved your feet onto his lap while you stretched across his couch.

“Could I?”

The purr in his voice made your breath hitch, pressing your toes a little further into his lap until he tossed his book on the table.

He caught your feet, tattooed hands rubbing gently before he pushed them away. More guilt and fear that he didn’t want you started to creep in, until you felt his weight. Until he kissed those doubts away.

“How could I be nicer,” he rasped, his facial hair making you shiver as he breathed along your neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist, loving the quiet gasp he let out.

“Fuck me, Law.”

His body moved against yours, just a bit, and your back arched at the feel of his fingers digging into your hips.

“Please,” you begged, with your nails twisting through his hair, “I want you.”

He kissed you again, and his heavy-lidded eyes rolled back when you scraped his bottom lip between your teeth.

Your body mourned the loss of his heat as he sat back on his heels. The urge to grab him, to pull him toward you, to take him in, had you fighting yourself, but you couldn’t stop your body from writhing. Near-panicked fingers dragged over your own clothes, and you tried not to sob with need.

“Y/N,” he coaxed, his ragged breathing like another temptation you had to fight against, “I want you to feel safe. We can stop anytime, you can tell me–”

“Please, gods, fuck me, Law. I nee–”

Your desperate moan echoed into his mouth as he grinded against you. He helped you rip the shirt from his body, then pulled you up to sit as you tore the suffocating fabric from your own skin.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Law swooned, going to his knees on the floor for better access to trail his lips down your shoulders, your chest, your stomach. He let out a needy moan when you threw your bra to the side. You nodded as he glanced up at you, then arched your back when he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

He massaged your breast while he sucked and swirled his tongue, his free hand rubbing a thumb across your other nipple, balancing out the attention. You leaned back on your hands, gasping when he switched sides, when he moaned with your flesh in his mouth.

Then you pulled at his arms, needing to feel more of him. You agreed to his breathy, “bed,” and kissed your way across his shoulder and neck while he carried you across the room.

Your long lost friend crawled onto the bed on his knees to lay you down gently against the pillows, and you couldn’t take another second of waiting.

Finally, he let you tear at his jeans, falling forward to cage you in while you reached into the stiff fabric. Taking his cock in your hand for the first time, even still constrained in his tight pants, made your mind go blank with need. The veins pulsing beneath your fingers sent your body bucking beneath his.

“Wait,” you pleaded, pathetic noises leaving your throat as he moved away. But his movement just brought his lips down your skin again, until his darkened eyes looked up at you from between your legs, his fingers dancing at the waistband of your pants.

“Yes,” you ordered before he could ask.

Running your fingers along your inner thighs, you lost yourself in the way he looked at you. Law’s eyes devoured every bare inch of your skin, the wet aching center of you just waiting for him to take you.

“Please,” you begged again.

He let out a sound that might have been a growl, but it was lost when he plunged his face into your folds. You cried out his name, reaching for his fingers that had wrapped around your hips, then tugged at the strands of his hair again, clinging while he ate at you.

The sensations were overwhelming, his hungry tongue, his facial hair teasing at your skin, the whimpers and whines he sent vibrating into that sensitive piece of you. His little sounds got louder each time you pulled at his hair, as you tried to draw him up toward you.

Law drank you in like you were the last bit of water left on the planet. Kissing, and sucking, and plunging deep, his eyes burned hot while he watched you.

“You taste so fucking good,” he slurred, messy face coming up for air for just a second. He thrust against the mattress, his jeans undone, but still restricting him while he writhed.

Tugging at his hair wasn’t enough, now you were reaching further. You scratched at his shoulders, your fingers dragging across his skin as you fought to pull him up. He just moaned at the contact, bringing his own fingers to push inside you, curling gently while he sucked your clit.

Your back arched for him, but your breathing turned to chaos. The word, “please,” filled the air, but your voice was broken, almost panicked.

“I’m so sorry, are you alright,” he pulled away, wiping his face before he moved out from between your legs. He touched your cheek with his fingertips, sitting beside you as his soothing voice surrounded you.

“You’re safe, it’s okay. What do you need– whoa!”

His pants had to come off. You needed to make him feel good. The need was so intense, so vital, you didn’t think you could breathe until you felt his pleasure.

“Fuck me, please.”

“But you–”

You interrupted his counter, sitting up to kiss his still wet face.

“Please, Law. I’m telling you what I want,” you pleaded, your hands playing dangerously close along his stomach, but waiting for permission. “I want this. I want you.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me to stop if you–”

“I promise.”

He stared for a long moment, and you almost sobbed for him, aching for him now. When he crawled off the bed to strip, you forgot everything else. Those gorgeous tattoos added to the work of art that was his lean, sculpted body. The sight of his thick cock springing free from those tight pants, already so swollen and dripping for you, had you twisting in his sheets.

“Law, need you…”

“I need you too, Y/N,” he rasped, crawling up your body again. He scanned your face, bringing the hard length of him to slide along your core, arching your back while he drenched himself in you. “So wet…”

Another delicate kiss left the taste of both of you on your tongue before his eyes drank you in. A small, impatient whine started to form in your throat, but the slow stretch of his leaking cock took your breath away.

“You feel incredible,” he sighed while you pulled him closer. His lips traced down your jaw, under your ear, letting you hear his soft, eager moans as he filled you. You could feel every vein throbbing as his shaft dragged through you, until there was nowhere left to fill.

He stayed for a second too long, fully hilted within you, but your demanding body took over.

Law moaned, bracing himself on an arm to keep from falling onto you. Your hips were driving up to meet his, fucking onto him while you panted, starved for him.

“Gods, you’re perfect.”

His praise was joined by deep, rolling thrusts that sent your eyes fluttering white. Still writhing beneath him, you gasped when his lips found yours again, one of his hands stroking your hair.

“How does this feel, baby?”

He started to ask more, his voice rough as he checked in, but you couldn’t help but laugh. He started to slow, but you clawed at him.

“So good,” you grinned, fighting to hold in another giggle. “You feel so good, sweetie pie.”

Law’s face, heavy with a mix of heat and concern jerked a bit, his eyes narrowing on you as his lips twitched.

“What’s that now,” he dared, shoving into you just a bit faster while you choked on gasping laughs.

“You’re supposed to be,” you paused, overwhelmed by the feel of him, “so scary. But you’re just a sweetie–”

He shut you up with his tongue down your throat, his fingers fisting into your hair, but not hard enough. Breaking off the kiss, he flashed you that wicked smile, meeting your challenge to prove you wrong.

Your frenzied screams filled the room, but his blown out eyes never left your face, watching your every movement. Still so sweet while he hammered his cock into you. Emotion started to hit, and you didn’t want him to notice and stop. It just felt like a dream, being here with him. Any moment you would wake up to silk sheets, and invisible strings.

Gratitude flooded you, even as your body hit a plateau.

“I need you,” you begged, watching him start to lose that control he clings to. “Law, need to feel you come, plea–”

His thumb carved with the letter, “D,” found your clit, and you clenched your muscles while you screamed for him. You thrashed, letting your legs shake around his hips, and his thrusts stuttered, still so hard and deep as he moaned your name.

He kissed you while he came, and you melted, your body swallowing him in. You wanted him to fill you forever, the hot spill of his pleasure more precious than anything you’d ever held.

Your bodies stayed entwined, breathing into each other as you fought the pressure in your eyes. It felt like ages, yet still not long enough, when he threatened to pull away, leaving a beautiful whisper against your cheek before he moved.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

“Missed you too, sweetie pie,” you teased. You let your body drift into the air, a cloud of delicate water floating above the bed. Ethereal giggles left your form when Law grunted, the lower half of his body falling to the mattress without yours to rest inside.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you for that,” he growled, rolling onto his back to look up at your hovering mist.

“Not if I get you first,” you threatened with a kiss. You’d gone solid, straddling him, and giggling into his mouth when he dug fingers into your thighs. His low, dangerous chuckle made you shiver, gasping when he touched your face, rubbing his thumb across your lips.

“You already got me,” Law teased, his eyes still dark as they poured over you. “Now it’s my turn to make you come.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I felt bad for all the smutty stop and go's, but I hope you don't mind. Trauma takes time, and healing isn't a linear path, but that doesn't mean that pleasure is out of the question. Patience, and a caring partner can make all the difference. I hope that none of you relate, but if you do, you're not alone. 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 5

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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safety-pin-punk · 1 year

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Punk History Resources: Vol. 1

This is a compilation of resources found and recommended by various alternative bloggers, each of whom are credited for their contributions. This started because I was getting SO MANY asks about resources such as videos, books, and websites to use to learn about punk history. Admittedly, my own list isn't that long, so I thought it was best to reach out to some others and share their knowledge with everyone. So thank you again to everyone who helped out with this!!

@raggedyfink @lovintheaesthetic @punk-patches @my-chemical-ratz

YOUTUBE:

Punk/Goth Docs Playlist on Youtube (77 Videos) (raggedyfink)

1991 The Year Punk broke (lovintheaesthetic)

She's Real (Worse Than Queer) (lovintheaesthetic)

Don't Need You, The Herstory of Riot Grrrl (lovintheaesthetic)

The Long Queer History of Punk (lovintheaesthetic)

The very Black History of Punk Music (lovintheaesthetic)

Punk's Not Dead (lovintheaesthetic)

BOOKS:

Phantoms the Rise of La Deathrock (raggedyfink)

Too Tough to Love by Roxy Ramone (raggedyfink)

I Slept With Joey Ramone by Mickey Leigh (raggedyfink)

Please Kill Me, The Uncensored Oral History of Punk Rock (punk-patches & lovintheaesthetic)

Encyclopedia of Punk (punk-patches)

The Day the Country Died: A History of Anarcho-Punk, 1980-1984 (my-chemical-ratz)

The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's: A Secret History of Jewish Punk (my-chemical-ratz)

Sellout: The Major-Label Feeding Frenzy That Swept Punk, Emo, and Hardcore (lovintheaesthetic & my-chemical-ratz)

Tranny: Confessions of Punk Rock's Most Infamous Anarchist Sellout (my-chemical-ratz)

Punk Rock: An Oral History (my-chemical-ratz)

Girls to the Front: The True Story of the Riot Grrrl Revolution (my-chemical-ratz)

Queercore: Queer Punk Media Subculture (my-chemical-ratz)

Queercore: How to Punk a Revolution: An Oral History (my-chemical-ratz)

Spider-Punk: Banned in D.C.(this doesnt have anything to do with history but i love spider punk so) (my-chemical-ratz)

MOVIES / DOCUMENTARIES:

The Punk Singer (punk-patches)

Queercore: How to Punk a Revolution (punk-patches)

Punk's Not Dead (punk-patches)

Pansy Division: Life in a Gay Rock Band (punk-patches)

Queercore: How To Punk a Revolution (my-chemical-ratz)

Afropunk (my-chemical-ratz)

Punk in Africa (my-chemical-ratz)

A Band Called Death (my-chemical-ratz)) (link courtesy of @wrench-p, but is unavailable to watch in the US))

ARTICLES:

(some of these are found on JSTOR, but you can sign up for a free 100 articles per month)

Muslim Punk in an Alt-Right Era (my-chemical-ratz)

A History of Punk (my-chemical-ratz)

Jews, Punk and the Holocaust: From the Velvet Underground to the Ramones: The Jewish-American Story (my-chemical-ratz)

What is Punk and Why Did It Scare People So Much? (my-chemical-ratz)

An Account of a South African Punk Rock Music Collection (my-chemical-ratz)

Queer As Punk: A Guide To LGBTQIA+ Punk (my-chemical-ratz)

Did Punk Matter?: Analyzing the Practices of a Youth Subculture During the 1980s (my-chemical-ratz)

ZINES:

(some may not be *about* history, but they’re a huge part of it!)

Punk Planet archive (my-chemical-ratz & safety-pin-punk)

Queer Zine archive (I personally like the anon boy collection haha) (my-chemical-ratz)

Archive.org in general has a lot of zines :) (my-chemical-ratz)

ETC:

(These aren’t about punk history itself but could be helpful in learning about the politics that go with being punk)

A History of Punk from 1976-78: A Free Online Course from the University of Reading (safety-pin-punk)

Punk History Reading List (safety-pin-punk)

Essays about socialism (my-chemical-ratz)

Leftism 101 (my-chemical-ratz)

Rights as an American protester (my-chemical-ratz)

Social justice classes (I’m really excited to go through these!!) (my-chemical-ratz)

Stamped (my-chemical-ratz)

How To Be An Anti-Racist (my-chemical-ratz)

Nice Racism: How Progressive White People Perpetuate Racial Harm (my-chemical-ratz)

I would love to make a Vol. 2 post at some point in the future, so if you have resources and want to share, PLEASE message me!!

#punk 101 #punk culture #punk history #punk #punx #punk resources #resource list #friends!!!#making this post legit made tumblr crash on my desktop soo uhhhh let me know if anything is fucked up please!

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roseluxxx · 11 months

Text

rockstar?

Hobie Brown (Spider Punk) x reader

Head Canons

warnings: sexual implications, british people

word count: 513

before you read: established relationship, he’s a rockstar so that aspect is very much here, he still is spider-man and you in this reality are one too

____________________________________________

paparazzi. he loves you and wants everyone to know you’re his.. it’s just that he doesn’t like people in his life knowing what’s up with him, so he generally tries to keep his showing off tendencies down and keep your privacy safe. he knows fan girls would go crazy to be you and doesn’t want you to have to face that kind of wrath. otherwise trust you would be (and still are in some aspect) the cover of all his albums and in all his songs.

touch. he’s a fein for skin contact when you’re alone. small touches on your hip to let you know he’s there or that he misses you when you’re working on dinner or a project.

baking. he loves baking with you. the relaxing way you guys joke as you both collect the milk and eggs to make cake is so fun to him he can’t explain why.

rockstar. seeing you after his show is the best part of his night. he loves the roar of the crowd and the adrenaline he gets from singing his heart out but seeing you smiling at him like he’s the best thing in the universe does it for him every time

kids. he loves them. the next generation running around with revolutionary ideas and disobeying direct orders fuels his soul. he can’t wait to have one with you.

music. you aren’t a diehard fan of punk rock, you like other music and listen to it around him still, but the way you make an effort to listen to his favorite genre makes him filled to the brim with happiness and he feels like the luckiest guy in the world for it.

movies. he either is so thoroughly enthralled by the plot of the movie or is dead asleep. romance? if the plot is thick enough he’s there hanging on each word and screaming at the characters to kiss already. action? if he even could fall asleep the explosions and screaming would wake him up anyways. he loves horror. loves how dumb it is and how you always scream at the T.V. explaining just why the movie sucks

parties. he’s there. he’s the life of it for the first few minutes he’s there as he dabs everyone (even people he hardly knows) up and nodding to the DJ, then he’s in the corner holding the same drink he got the minute he arrived and waiting for you to come entertain him. he loves you for it

quickies. he loves them. where is he 5 minutes before a show? in the dressing room fucking your brains out and giving you a quick kiss when you cum before arriving on stage like he’s been there the whole time.

pda. a hand in your back pocket or an arm around your shoulders or waist will do. he doesn’t need everyone up in his business, especially the paparazzi or crazed fans. around other spiders he doesn’t really do much beside leave an arm around you or give you a kiss on your temple before leaving for a mission.

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Ty for reading❣️

Feel free to comment or check out the rest of my Hobie fics here!

A/N: The things in my drafts 😈

#hobie brown smut #hobie my beloved #hobie headcanons #hobie brown #hobie brown headcanons #spider punk smut #spider man smut #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse smut #hobie spiderverse #spider punk #spider man #roseluxworks #roselux spider verse

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its-your-mind · 10 months

Text

okay. I’ve slept and I’ve stared at the ceiling and I think I’m finally ready to put all of this into words. I’ve been building up this post in my head… basically since the moment we learned about Ashton’s chronic pain, and I think this episode finally helps me synthesize all of it. Taliesin was on FIRE this episode. (also this got way longer than I thought, so it’s going behind a read more. I just have so many FUCKING emotions about this punk rock.)

I know I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but I, like Ashton, have full-body constant chronic pain. Sometimes it gets worse with extended physical activity, sometimes it just gets worse out of nowhere. Some days are good, which means the parts of me that hurt aren’t getting in the way of me doing things too much, but there are never, ever days without pain.

I think Ashton fucking nailed it here:

And here’s the thing about background noise. Most of the time, you don’t even notice it’s there. Your brain filters it out, takes it and files it away as something that doesn’t need any conscious focus. But sometimes, something that is normally background noise can become completely overwhelming - think a ticking clock that you don’t usually notice, but when you’re waiting for something, it becomes all that you can hear, and your brain can't pull its attention away.

And, at least for me, chronic pain can sometimes become like an endlessly ticking clock in my perception. Obviously, my body is in pain, which is not fun in and of itself, but on the bad body days, my mental functions become severely limited as well. My memory is shot, my thoughts come slowly, and it’s so much easier for bright lights and loud noises to cause my brain to bluescreen for a few seconds.

There’s just too much sensory input for the brain to process.

And on those days, it can just be easier to shut down. Lay down in bed and not move or think, because moving and thinking is just too hard. And when resting isn't an option, there’s a pretty significant percentage of my brain that’s just focused on trying to filter out that background noise of pain, and it becomes so difficult to function as normal. One clock might not take up too too much brain power, but imagine if there were five. Ten. A few dozen.

I’ll get back to Ashton in a minute, I promise.

The brain might be able to turn those ticking clocks into background noise, but it’s harder to do that the louder they are. Your thoughts get sidetracked because it’s almost impossible to focus on anything but those clocks, and even when you’re able to ignore them for a bit, it doesn’t take much for you to be reminded that they’re still there, and your mind turns back to that ticking, ticking, ticking…

When you’re in pain, you learn to stay tense and alert. You economize your words and movements, because you only have so many before your body makes it too hard to function. You have to build up necessary boundaries for yourself, because without them, you’ll become a shell of a person, disconnected from a body that's just... not fun to be inside of.

And it’s so easy to let those boundaries become a permanent, defensive wall, built to keep the world at bay, because the world is where the pain comes from.

Ashton’s chronic pain might not have started until their fall from the balcony, but he’s never lived a life without emotional pain.

And so you have this person who has lived through so many awful things who should be dead several times over, who now lives with this constant, insistent, physically painful reminder that the world is cruel and harsh, and even your family can’t be trusted to keep you from getting more hurt.

So yeah. He’s fucking pissed off at the whole world. He’s lived through some fucking bullshit, so can you fucking blame him for building up walls around himself? How the fuck is he expected to survive in this world without defenses?

So he builds those necessary defenses that anyone with chronic pain has to get good at building, something to deafen the feeling of constant pain, and he makes them into a permanent fixture of his personality. They turn these necessary internal defenses into a hostile fortification, into anger, into rage, into a weapon that can hurt the world just as much as the world has hurt them.

And then, the Hells.

All of a sudden, they have a new family.

And the thing is. The thing! Is!! Ashton has always always been someone who cares so much, someone who loves their family recklessly and totally, even after the Nobodies abandoned them to die on the ground beneath Hexum's house. They’re protective, they take people in, they stand up for the people who can’t stand up for themselves. But it’s always been from behind the safety of that wall.

And the walls have started to come down.

The world might be cruel and painful and fucking shitty, but dammit, there are still things in it worth saving.

Letting people see your vulnerabilities might lead to more pain, but isn’t it just… so liberating? To not have to put so much energy into keeping those walls up?

These people. His new family. They’ve opened up to each other. They’ve all shared some of their darkest secrets, they’ve trusted each other with their lives, they’ve gone above and beyond, over and over again, to make sure that not one of their people is left behind, not ever. No matter what.

So now, for maybe the first time in his life, Ashton has something solid to stand on that he didn’t have to build for himself. He doesn’t have to maintain his walls with these people, because his family knows how to tread carefully, and they all do their best not to do anything that might inadvertently cause each other more pain.

Because here’s the thing about chronic pain. To a certain point, you just have to accept that shit is going to fucking hurt, and you’re gonna do it anyway. Instead of living in daily, constant fear of making the pain worse, you evaluate the things that you want to do with your time, and decide whether or not they’re worth the pain that they’ll cause.

Ashton started throwing himself at physical danger almost as soon as he was off Milo’s workbench. He’s no stranger to choosing things that will increase the pain in his body.

But the pain in their mind? Fuck that. We’re not going to look too closely at what the fuck is in there, because that is a fucking bridge too far.

Let their brain process the pain, and keep the rest of their shit on lock.

But now… they’ve let their family in, past those walls. They quite literally let Imogen and FCG go into their mind, multiple times, to find the things that they’ve buried deep, deep inside because they don’t want to look too closely at them. They didn’t have room in their own brain to process that pain.

But now… they’ve learned about where they came from. They know where their roots are. But more importantly, they know who their foundation is. They know that it’s safe to let these people in past those walls, because the Hells are people he can trust with all of himself, not just the solid and dangerous exterior.

And so now that they know that, it’s freed up so much more room in their mind to focus on actual, tangible goals!

He’s able to take time and space for his family, just as they’ve all taken time and space for him.

Now that the Hells have become his firm ground, he’s able to become theirs.

He knows how to be a wall, a tank, a shield. He knows how to deal with physical pain.

But now, they’re learning how to be a rock, a safe place, a firm foundation. That’s harder. That’s more complicated. That involves vulnerability, and the ability to sit and talk and process and think. That’s not something they’re always able to do, but they know now that they can do it. He’s learned how from the rest of his family, from seeing the ways that they all support him.

The world still fucking sucks. The gods have never seemed to give a single fuck about Ashton Greymoore, and he’s spent his whole life being thrown away and cast aside by the people who were supposed to take care of him. His body is wracked with the constant reminder of betrayal and abandonment. But now, they have something new to fight for. They don’t have to fight to save the gods. They don’t need to aspire to anything that lofty. But their family is here, dammit, and they’re not going to fucking lose them and so…

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xxnomadsxx · 3 months

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okay, we know how Branch found the feral things and started a grey troll village in your nomads au. And how Creek ended up in the village. BUT, how did the rest of the occupants come to be? Did they willing leave their kingdoms? Were they abandoned? Did they get lost and lose hope of anyone ever coming for them before they met the feral creatures and the others? I really wanna know some backstories.

Oooooo-This is a tough one.

Everyone in the village has there own story for why there their. These are a few examples I thought up of how they got there.

Pop: There are very few Pop trolls in the grey village (mostly due to their toxic positivity of always looking on the bright side for normal Pop trolls ) they basically were separated from the main tribe and didn’t find the putt putt trolls on there way out when escaping. Soon they lost all hope of finding the tribe and went to live in the wood (it went reeeeaaallly bad) a few were eaten and the rest went grey, they were kinda just wandering around for a few years till the (very few) nomads and feral (trolls?) showed up. They were taken in and found Branch there too. The grey pop trolls also were told were the village was but they didn’t go back because they were too ashamed about being grey.

Funk: There is a group of funk trolls in the village who all came in at the same time. They were researchers who were left behind by vibe city and had no hope of getting back to the always moving ship, so they went grey and were later found by a small hunting team and Branch while trying to create some traps to keep them safe (there are more funk trolls I’m just showing off random examples of how trolls got here)

Classical: There are a few classical trolls who can’t fly in the village due to wing injuries. The injuries go from difficult to stay in the air, to broken beyond repair, and looking at how there body is shaped (they have the bodies of LITERAL babies can they walk?) I don’t think it’s easy for them to get around since symphony vill is probably mostly made to fly around. It got too difficult for them and just left going grey in the process.

Techno: There once was a dead techno troll who had some troll eggs with them beached on a nearby river to the village, they took in the techno eggs (The eggs HAVE to look like fish eggs right.. RIGHT?!) the trolling when they hatched just sorta knew there mother was gone and were born grey. they grew up in the village which didn’t…really help them get better and just sorta caused them more issues.(there have been a few lost techno trolls who had damaged fins to the point of not even being able to go back)

Rock: A lot more rock trolls live in the village then the other genres, mostly cause of their more feral and aggressive personalities (they look like biters) so some just had bad experiences in there lives that it just became too much and they just ended up Leaving volcano rock city. There is a rock troll who can’t hear in the village, and due to his deafness he felt like a freak to troll kind since he couldn’t even listen to music (which is kinda a big deal) he left and turned grey wandering the woods until he was found by some feral(trolls?) who have done the same routine of taking in grey trolls a lot at that point.

Country: There aren’t to many country (I feel like it would be harder for them to turn grey since they show how sad it can get in Lonesome flats) but the some who do show up have tons of kids, a while back a couple of country trolls were deemed criminals for liking another genre of music and playing it too loud, to which they were promptly kicked out of town, who later turned grey from getting forced to leave there only home. They were found fighting predators by a hunting team. (this was way before world tour so a lot less tolerance for other music)

Subgenres: There are some subgenre groups running around, like indie trolls, steam punk trolls, some grunge too (and many more) they usually are abandoned or just turn grey from living a isolated lonely life or some other reason like family was killed or taken by huge predators or what not.

Honestly most of them stay grey or go darker in color because they live in the village. It isn’t really going out of its way to help them get their color back but is really just a home for them. Growing up there influences many of the kids born there to turn grey or go grey later in their lives.

There are many other reasons why any of the trolls would be here these are just random scenariosthat I thought up to show as examples

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pennamenotfound · 1 year

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I feel like one of the reasons that the Bells Hells are so interesting and compelling to me is that they’re all so angry. Anger is so interesting to me because of its volatility. The way it can, more than any other emotion, be twisted. Think of how much more volatile Percy was in campaign one because of his revenge boner than Caleb in campaign two with his deepset guilt and grief.

And like, sure, we had anger before in the other campaigns.

Like Percy was super angry obviously, and Vex had her rage, and Scanlan had his moment (what’s my mother’s name) in Campaign one, and you could probably pull moments for the rest of Vox Machina. Grog’s a barbarian, he rages all the time. Plus with his herd. Okay, sure. Vax certainly had his moments. Keyleth at Raishan. (I don’t think Pike realy had any real anger moments in her arc.) But their stories don’t rely on their anger as much as Percy and Vex, and not nearly as much as Bells Hells.

In the Mighty Nein, there’s Beau who is super angry at the world, justifiably so, but the rest of the party not so much. Caleb and Yasha are guilt and grief. Cad’s faith. Jester definitely had her problems with emotion, but anger wasn’t really part of it so much as learning to let herself feel something other than happy. Fjord’s journey to Melora was much more about introspection, Veth’s journey back to herself was certainly emotionally taxing for her, but it’s back to greif and loss for her. Kingsley is all about discovery, and Essek was about finding friendship.

But Bells Hells. They’re all so angry. With maybe the exception of Chetney, but he’s also a werewolf which is its own sort of instability.

Ashton’s a given---Tal’s so good at anger in his characters. Perfect punk, angry at the world, angry at their situation. *chef’s kiss* perfect barbarian

Imogen has such rage bubbling. “We’re gonna sunder you, Delilah Briarwood” for one, but also, with her mother. With her powers.

Fearne with her parents. The way she was discovering her anger had so much potential, and I really wanted to see her actually throw some fireballs or something.

Orym. I saw the look on Liam’s face when he had that insight check whisper from Tuldus. Dude, Otohan and the Ruby Vanguard killed his husband and his dad (I know, father in law, but Orym says dad.) He’s the nice one, he’s said it before himself, but... under the surface, i think he’s got some rage in him.

FCG. Oh, FCG, with their unpredictable rage mode. Trying so desperately to be the caretaker when they don’t even know what they are. The professor in Yios gave him a lot of good information, but there’s a lot they don’t know.

For me, with FCG and Orym both, it’s a lot of aren’t you tired of being nice? Don’t you want to go apeshit?

And then Laudna. Laudna, with the most to be angry about. She was murdered by the Briarwoods, and spent the next thirty years with her murderer in her head. Looking like a corpse. Not knowing if she was dead or alive. Being chased out of towns all over Tal’Dorei until she ran all the way to Marquet. No friends, even before she died, before Imogen. And she’s really the most interesting to me. Because we don’t see a lot of rage with her. Even with Percy in Whitestone, it’s forgiveness. It’s understanding. The only time I remember in the campaign her really being angry was when FCG turned on the party that time, and that was related to Delilah’s manipulations.

Orym said once something like she had the worst thing out of all of them happen, and yet she’s the happiest, and how is that? And she goes, well, because the worst thing that’s happened to me already happened.

And it’s so interesting to me because we could, in another universe, have another Ashton in Laudna. Because, really, very similar things happened to them. Both died. Both put back together not quite right, not quite in control of their situation. Feared, even.

But she’s so loving, caring, and not wrathful, and honestly, I’d kind of love to see some anger from her. And I think we might see it if Imogen gets hurt.

Anyway i’m unhinged about bells hells. I love vox machina and mighty nein but I’ve connected most to bells hells because I’ve been watching CR since CR3 started, and I love my angy bois.

#bells hells #critical role #cr3 #critrole #vox machina #mighty nein #chetney pock o'pea #imogen temult #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #orym #fcg #laudna

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99hook · 8 months

Text

Battered

Streetfighter!hook

Synopsis: Hook isn’t just a ring name in AEW but you figure that out when it’s too late to stop him

Warnings: depictions of blood and injury, angst, cursing, violence

A/N: I caught the O’Malley vs Sterling fight in the break room and just couldn’t stop thinking about hook as an underground streetfighter for some reason lmao (and yes I know the boxers aren’t streetfighters but this is just where my mind went)

The low hood shadowed the thick, velvet scar crossing through the arch of his eyebrow, along with the puffed out lower left side of his lip that had an identical cut to match, but not as well as he intended.

“Where do these scars keep coming from?” You asked as you gently ran your thumb over one of the cuts.

“You know I’m a pro wrestler.” He muttered as he pulls his head away, trying to hide the wince from the pain that the slightest touch caused.

“You haven’t stepped in the ring in over a month, Tyler.” You deadpan, and he can practically feel your suspicions slicing through him, but he tries not to acknowledge that.

“I did some practice in the gym the other day and the dude got me.” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll heal.”

But you didn’t believe him, and it wasn’t just due to the fresh scars that decorated his face either. Tyler was a horrible liar. He’d always been. He can never look you in the eyes when he fabricated the truth, which was exactly why he was staring down at his busted knuckles instead.

You took a moment to think, but you didn’t even need to. The truth was staring you right in the face and you were tired of pretending that it wasn’t.

“You’re streetfighting, aren’t you?”

You watched his shoulders immediately tense up, his teeth locking down behind his lips making his jaw bone throb. You rolled your eyes and looked away, unable to keep staring at those wounds on your boyfriend’s face.

“So when were you planning on telling me? After I have to see you in a hospital bed with a concussion? Or were you gonna just wait until you were in a coma and I had to find out for myself that you’ve been lying to me for who knows how long!”

“Stop.” He muttered, picking his head back up. “Just try to understand-“

“We talked about this so many times, Tyler! I told you exactly how I felt about you doing this! It’s dangerous! I’ve seen my dad get his skull cracked in half and you know that! Why do you want to do this shit?!”

“I love it.” He shrugs easily. “I love the thrill and the adrenaline. I love knocking bitch ass punks out cold. I love the hype. I was meant to do this, Y/N. I know I was.”

You felt your heart sink in your chest. Clearly seeing the passion bursting through those dark eyes when he told you what it means to him, but it kills you inside knowing that he’s chosen something so dangerous. Possibly deadly, and he doesn’t seem to give that any regard whatsoever.

“It’s not the way it was when your dad broke into it. It’s rough, but people aren’t built like they used to be. I haven’t gotten seriously hurt yet, and I’ve been doing this for-“ he pauses, dropping his eyes to the floor before he says, “about six months now.”

“Six months?!” You snapped, “are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Obviously im not.” He eyes you again. “I’m being dead serious because this is something I love. It’s a part of my life now, just like you are and I guess I’m just telling you so you’ll accept it, cause I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes but you forced them back. Tyler watched your eyes well up and had to advert his attention elsewhere so he didn’t have to see those tears slip down your cheeks.

“Look” he sighs, “I’ll bring you to one of my fights. You can see for yourself that you don’t have to worry about me. Nobody’s ever come close to knocking me out. Yeah I have a couple bruises and shit but that’s just how the shit goes. I hold my own out there and I dominate everyone that comes for me. I’m the last person you ever have to worry about.”

Well, that lead to you standing in the midst of a bunch of drunk, wild people in a rundown underground basement. You couldn’t help but to bite your nails down to the nub as you intensely watched two guys aggressively throwing still jabs to each other’s jaws.

It was already hard to breathe in the smoky haze but even worse when Tyler was announced. The crowd roared when he came out, fists taped up and wearing gear similar to what he wears in AEW, but he didn’t look like that Hook.

Everyone chanted his name, some people holding fifty and hundred dollar bills in the air as they bet on his win. You didn’t even realize he was such a crowd favorite, but that just cemented the fact that he’d been living this whole double life you knew nothing about for six months.

He stepped up and adjusted the tape wrapped tightly around his wrists to cover the tender flesh on his knuckles. The scars so deep that the second they make contact with anything, they’re pouring blood.

The man he was up against had a good three inches of height on him, but he had much more muscle mass than the man did. There was no intimidation on the surface. Hook appeared just as calm, cool and collected as he always did in AEW, but you quickly realized as soon as the first punch was thrown that this was completely different.

All you heard was hook chants and the sounds of knuckle crashing into bone. One stiff jab in particular caused Hook to stumble back, dazed a bit but all it did was piss him off, and then you realized just why everyone was betting on him.

Fury bursted out of him as he threw his fists straight into the eye sockets, the jaw and the teeth of his opponent. He was a quick shooter. His opponent tried to block the shots to the face so Hook strikes them to the ribs instead, landing an uppercut when his opponent folded over.

But as soon as you thought the fight was going to come to a quick end, hook’s opponent reared his shoulder into his gut and slammed him down to the floor. The impact of your boyfriend’s spine crashing against the concrete make your stomach churn. You felt nauseas, hands trembling as you watched him getting punched everywhere that was visible.

He was trapped beneath his opponent, his knees digging into Hook’s rib cage preventing him from breaking free and all he could do was block those deadly punches as best as he could.

The chants only got louder and louder and it gave him more momentum. The crowd, but especially knowing you were out there in it.

In a desperate attempt to gain some leverage, when the next punch was thrown, hook caught it with his left hand, his right hand connecting directly into the teeth of his opponent, cracking one right down the center.

Blood oozed from the man’s mouth, leaving droplets all over Hook’s chest. He quickly reversed the roles and rolled himself on top of his battered opponent, his knees digging into the shoulders to keep the man from having any defense. With the man trapped underneath, Hook’s fists flew at a deadly speed, pounding into the man’s face until there was blood pouring out of every crevice on his skin.

He wasn’t satisfied until his opponent was limp. One good stiff jab to the jaw button followed by three clocks to the bridge of the nose and his opponent’s eyes rolled back, his entire body giving up any source of fight he could’ve possibly mustered.

The crowd erupted in wild screams when hook got off of him. He wiped the smeared blood from his bottom lip with the back of his hand, tainting the white tape with crimson to match his opponent’s blood all over his body and the floor.

He raised both arms up, eliciting more screams from the crowd before he scanned his eyes all around that smoky room, finding you within seconds. You had mixed reactions and he could see that, but all he was worried about was making sure he showed you that this is what he’s best at. This is what he loves. This is what he wants.

He made his way towards you, red welts all over his chest and neck and tinges of blood everywhere you could see. He pushed through the people in front of you until he was standing inches apart, his bloody, slick hand cupping your cheek before he crashed his lips with yours.

He was so amped up and you could feel that in the kiss. The passionate force behind his lips colliding with yours left you breathless when he pulled back.

He dropped his hand from your cheek to your hip and noticed the blood smearing across your skin that he left there.

As if he was reading your mind, he pulled you into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around you, blood staining on your clothes but neither he or you cared. You hugged him back, holding onto him for dear life he felt like. Your body was still shaking and nerves still wracking around within you but you couldn’t deny the fact that he really did dominate out there, just like he said. And it was clear more than ever that this was something he loves. Something he wouldn’t give up.

“You’re a badass.” You mumbled into his slick chest, feeling his arms tighten around you. “But listen to me, Senerchia, cause I’m only gonna say this once. You better not die on me, or I’ll bring you back to life and kill you myself.”

He pulls back and looks down at you, his eyes wide and wild and hair even more so, but a slight smirk tipping up his lips distracted you from all that. All the blood smeared on his skin and the welts that were soon bruises. That smile out-shown all of it.

“Never gotta worry about that, baby. I’m never leaving you.”

He placed another kiss to your lips briefly, leaving the taste of salty sweat and metallic in your mouth before he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the crowd, avoiding the people around trying to congratulate him and get him to sign things because all he was worried about was getting you home.

“Where are we going? I thought there were more fights? You don’t wanna stay and watch?”

“Nah” he smirks as the cold, New York air greets you both. “I got a lot of adrenaline pumping right now, im not wasting it.”

#hook aew #hook x reader #hook imagine #tyler senerchia #hook nation rise #hook #aew hook

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