An Anthology of Blurbs

Shorts ⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

𓆩♡𓆪 - Gator Bait: 🐊 - Synopsis: You and Gator spend some alone time in his room. 𓆩♡𓆪 - Uninvited 🐊 - Synopsis: Gator stopped by for a late night visit. 𓆩♡𓆪 - Tempered Sugar 🐊 - Synopsis: Gator always had a craving for something sweet. 𓆩♡𓆪 - Caught Staring 🐊 - Synopsis: Turns out it was incredibly hard to avoid staring at Gator. 𓆩♡𓆪 - Late Night 🐊 - Synopsis: Gator never thrilled when you're late back. 𓆩♡𓆪 - Deputy Tillman 🐊 - Synopsis: There's been some break-ins in the area. 𓆩♡𓆪 - Ma'am 🐊 - Synopsis: He calls you ma'am for the for first time and it sticks.

House Visit ⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

𓆩♡𓆪 - House Visit 🐊 - Synopsis: Gator likes upsetting your good-for-nothing boyfriend. 𓆩♡𓆪 - House Visit p2 🐊 - Synopsis: It's a game, and Gator's winning.

˚｡୨୧˚ Voicemail Transcripts ˚୨୧｡˚

11:27PM 12:43AM 9:59PM 2:14AM 3:18PM 10:39PM 7:28PM 11:54PM 6:37PM

‿୨♡୧ Valentines Menu ୨♡୧‿

Then there was Gator. You’d only known him for six months, yet somehow he had slipped under your skin, becoming harder to ignore with every passing day. You’d heard the rumours about him, knew enough of the truth to understand why people whispered but none of it frightened you away. Because with you, he was gentle. Softer than anyone had ever been. Around him, you felt cared for, protected, like you mattered more than anything else in the world.

You still couldn’t stop thinking about that night. The feeling of his hands on you, the warmth of his lips against yours, the spark that ignited so suddenly and so intensely. Part of you had considered ending things with your partner, confessing everything to Gator, seeing if there could be something real between you. Another part wondered if the danger and secrecy were exactly what made it feel so intoxicating. Maybe the stolen moments were enough. Maybe they had to be. In the end though, the weight of it all became overwhelming. The guilt. The fear. The wanting. It felt easier to shut yourself off completely, from Gator, from your partner, from the entire world, than to face the possibility of hurting everyone involved, including yourself.

G. — Coffee?

G. — Or maybe a drive?

G. — Like a real drive. No trouble. No expectations.

G. — Unless you want trouble.

G. — Honestly I can’t tell what you want.

None of the messages earned a response. Even replying felt dangerous now, like crossing a line you couldn’t uncross. Was a text also cheating? With the history between you and Gator, with the lingering tension and feelings quietly festering beneath the surface, it certainly felt close enough. So you withdrew.

Outside of work and the bare minimum conversations required to survive the day, you hid yourself away in the safety of your bedroom. Though lately, even that room felt suffocating. Every corner of it reminded you of the life you’d built with your partner and every night beside him only sharpened the guilt gnawing at you. How were you supposed to lie next to one man while thinking about another? How long before he noticed something was going on?

You stopped eating dinner downstairs, claiming you weren’t hungry or that you were tired after long days. Instead, you carried plates upstairs untouched, letting them go cold beside your bed while you scrolled endlessly through your phone, rereading messages you never answered. You went to bed earlier and earlier, often pretending to be asleep by the time he came upstairs. On the nights he tried to touch you, a hand resting on your waist, fingers brushing your arm, you stiffened before you could stop yourself.

Conversations between you became shorter, thinner, stretched tight with tension. He’d ask if you were okay, and you’d answer with a distracted hum. He’d try to joke with you, try to pull you back toward him, but your attention always seemed somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Eventually, he stopped trying as hard, and somehow that hurt worse.

You could feel the argument coming long before it finally happened. Every silence added to it. Every avoided glance, every untouched meal, every night spent with your back turned toward him built another layer of resentment. It wasn’t just guilt anymore. It was pressure.

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It was early evening and he’d been gone all day. Day drinking would be the correct label, having fun and living life would be his. You heard the door open, clumsy steps up the stairs and the sound of a bedroom door opening. You barely looked up from your phone as he entered the room.

“That’s your problem,” your boyfriend slurred, tossing his jacket with more force than necessary. “You’re always interested in anything except me. I’m your damn boyfriend. You should actually be happy to see me.”

You flinched slightly at the volume of his voice, looking up from where you sat curled. “I am happy to see you,” you muttered weakly.

“Bullshit.” The word cracked through the room. For a moment, silence hung heavy between you both, broken only by the faint clink of the beer bottle still dangling from his hand.

“What is your problem lately?” he demanded. “Seriously. You barely talk to me anymore, you eat upstairs like you can’t stand being around me, you go to bed before I even get home half the time. What the hell did I do?”

“You’re drunk,” you snapped quietly.

“And you’re avoiding me!” he shouted back instantly. “Every damn day I come home and it’s like talking to a wall. You don’t look at me, don’t touch me, don’t tell me anything. I’m getting sick of it.”

His voice rising made your stomach twist painfully. “Stop yelling at me.”

“Then talk to me!” he barked, throwing his free hand into the air. “Because I don’t even know who the hell you are lately.”

Tears burned at your eyes more from frustration than sadness. “I can’t do this when you’re like this.”

“Oh, right,” he laughed bitterly. “So now I’m the problem too?”

You stood abruptly from the bed, shaking your head. “I never said that.”

“But you sure act like it.” The room fell quiet again,. Your boyfriend stared at you for a long moment before scoffing under his breath. He shoved a hand into his pocket, pulling out his car keys with an irritated jingle.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “I’m done talking.”

Your heart dropped slightly as he turned toward the door. “Don’t leave right now.”

But he ignored you completely. The front door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls, and seconds later you heard his truck roar to life outside before disappearing down the road, leaving the house painfully silent behind him.

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Hours passed, and still nothing. No texts, no calls. None of your friends working the late shift at the local bars had seen him either. Earlier, you’d been furious. Now, with every minute that crawled by, the anger was being swallowed by something far worse.

1:21 am, your phone read. Outside your bedroom window, street lamps spilled pools of light across the empty road below. In that dim glow, you caught sight of a figure standing at your front door. A sharp knock broke the silence.

Your boyfriend must have lost his keys. It was the only explanation that made sense. Though it didn’t explain why his truck wasn’t outside.

Unless he’d crashed it. The knock came again. Louder this time. More impatient. Clearly he was still drunk, and angry.

You turned the words over in your head as you reached for the door handle. Should you argue with him? Stay calm? Tell him to spend what was left of the night at his brother’s place?

You still hadn’t decided by the time you opened the door.

Gator. Strands of hair stuck out from beneath the backwards STARK COUNTY cap on his head. His eyes looked tired, weighed down by whatever kind of shift he’d just stumbled home from.

“Hi—” he started, but you grabbed his arm before he could say anything else, pulling him across the threshold and out of sight from any prying eyes.

Are you kidding me? We have friends living on this street! Where did you park? Gator, you can’t be here right now—”

The questions spilled from your lips faster than you could stop them, your mind scrambling to keep up with everything that could go wrong.

“Listen, don’t worry. He’s not coming back anytime soon, and I parked a couple streets over.”

He watched your expression change in an instant, panic smoothing your face blank.

“Is he okay?”

Ouch. That hurt more than it should have. Of course he was fine, but why should you care? He knew you loved him, yet hearing the worry in your voice still stung. Enough to make him wonder if you’d ever sound like that over him.

“He’s sittin’ in a cell a few towns over. Blew through a stop sign and was way over the limit. They’ll let him out in a few hours once all the processing shit’s done. Gives him time to sober up.”

Your thoughts tangled over themselves trying to absorb it all at once. He was okay. That mattered most. And he wasn’t coming home tonight.

Which meant he wouldn’t walk through the door and find Gator standing there. For the first time that night, relief slipped in alongside the panic.

Gator noticed immediately. Your shoulders eased first, then the tight line in your jaw softened. Even the crease between your brows disappeared. Relief settled over you so clearly it was almost visible.

He felt it too. Time alone with his favourite girl.

“You look beautiful like this, you know.”

His gloved hand lifted to your face, thumb brushing gently along your cheekbone. No makeup. Hair clipped back off your shoulders. Soft pajamas hanging loosely from your frame. You looked tired, warm, comfortable, real in a way he rarely got to see.

Gator hated that he didn’t get to come home to this every night. That someone else did. Someone who didn’t deserve it.

“You can’t stay. You need to leave. I can’t do this, Gator. I love him. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

The honesty stung. It was the most truthful you’d been in months. Maybe ever. And the worst part was, you meant every word.

“I know, sugar. You’re too good for this world.”

His gaze moved slowly across your face, studying you like a piece of art he wanted to memorize, every freckle, every scar, every tiny detail that made you you.

“I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” His voice softened. “But this is probably one of the only times we’ll ever get to be like this.”

He hesitated for half a second before giving you that familiar look.

“What d’you say? No harm in playin’ house for a little while with my favourite girl. We can pretend for a bit.”

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He kicked his boots off, but you wouldn’t let him leave them by the door. Instead, you made him take them upstairs, just in case he needed a quick getaway out the window.

He didn’t argue.

In bed, the lights were off and the TV glowed softly with an old rerun of *Friends*, a show you’d watched a hundred times before. He settled beside you, his SHERIFF vest discarded somewhere out of sight, gloves resting on your bedside table.

His arm draped loosely around you, pulling you in without pressure. The blanket was thrown over both of you in a careless tangle.

Gator’s thumb traced slow, absent circles along the back of your arm as the two of you let the noise of the show fill the room, neither of you really watching it fully.

The thought of it should have filled you with guilt and somewhere, buried beneath everything, it did. But in this moment with Gator beside you, it didn’t quite reach the surface. There was only warmth. Safety. The kind that made everything else feel distant.

Your body moved before you could stop it. You reached up, fingers brushing his jaw and gently pulled him down towards you. You pressed your lips against him gently, moving slowly. Growing accustomed to the feeling.

It caught him off guard. For a second, he didn’t react at all, just froze there, like he was trying to understand what was happening. Then, slowly, he leaned in. He didn’t resist.

He let you lead. Let you set the pace, while he followed without question, like he had been doing in ways far beyond this moment. Gator’s quiet compliance only pushed you further. It made you braver, bolder in a way you hadn’t been in a long time.

Your body shifted towards him, closing the space that was already gone, barely breaking the kiss as you deepened it instead of pulling away.

Your tongue teased his bottom lip. He let out a quiet, restrained sound, a small groan, just enough for you to hear. And it broke something in you.

Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer, refusing to let there be any distance left between you. He took the hint immediately, like he’d been waiting for it. Like it was instinct.

There was a shift then, subtle, but unmistakable. The way he moved against you changed, less hesitant now, more certain. Not forceful, not rushed, just finally allowed. And once you gave him that space, he didn’t waste it.

His lips brushed yours again, slower this time, more certain than before. His hand stayed gentle against your cheek, thumb lingering like he was memorising the shape of your face.

“I’m not putting no pressure on you,” he murmured after a moment, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes. There was a pause, softer now, almost careful. “But I can give you what you want. Anything. Just tell me.”

“Gator…” your voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I want you,” you admitted, quiet but steady.

Something in his expression shifted. That familiar half smile returning, but tempered now with something more serious underneath it.

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yeah.”

He kissed you again, slower than before, like he was trying to prove something. Like he was holding himself back on purpose.

He used this opportunity to lean over you now, your back flat against the mattress, head resting gently on the pillow as Gator began to kiss down your face and across your jaw.

“Gates-”

“You're so beautiful,” He breathed between kisses leaning up to pepper them against your ear.

“You get me so hot and bothered y’know. Such a pretty girl.”

You wanted to reply, to let him know how good his lips felt against your neck, your body. How you wanted to feel them anywhere.

But the words wouldn't come. And they didn't need to. Gator knew. He understood. So you stayed quiet, aside from the small moans and gasps that tumbled from your lips. That was enough for him.

“You just sit and look at me with those pretty little eyes. Don't need to do nothing, let me take care of you of you,”

His lips traced a slow path from your neck to your collarbone, lingering as if each kiss needed to be remembered. One, then another, unhurried, deliberate. Then he paused.

He looked up at you again, quietly searching your face, holding the moment as though it might slip away if he didn’t. As if he was memorizing you in fragments just in case this was all he would ever get of it.

“Look at you, laying there. Letting me do this to you. You’re doing such a sweet job for me doll. Just keep making them noises for me. Keep me sweet.” His words sounded like filth. But you were enjoying them far too much to stop.

He kissed across your chest, where your pajama shirt didn't quite cover, slightly dipping below. Teasing you and him. Savouring the moment.

A quick tug at the hair on the back of his neck drew him back to you.

His mouth found yours again, and everything else fell away into the space between breath and touch. You wanted it to last, this exact moment, suspended and unbroken.

His hands found your hips, steadying you as the distance between you disappeared. The restraint he’d been holding onto faltered. Testing the waters in an attempt to venture further. His hands dipped again, squeezing and grabbing, pulling you impossibly close to him. And as much as you wanted this, there was still a flicker of hesitation in you. Your body stilled for a heartbeat before easing back into him. He noticed.

And instead of pushing through it, he paused just enough to let you catch up to the moment, to let the silence settle between you without pressure. That was all he needed to understand.

He began to ease back. The urgency in his kisses faded into something gentler, small, careful pecks that carried none of the earlier hunger.

It took him a moment to fully stop, to loosen his hold and give you space, but when he did, it wasn’t reluctant. It was a choice.

He stayed close, though, as if distance might undo the honesty of the moment. His breathing slowed, matching yours rather than chasing it.

He knew tonight wasn’t the night to go further. That you weren’t ready. And even if that meant risking that this might not happen again, he didn’t move to close the gap.

Stay, please?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. “I mean… if he’s not going to be back anytime soon, you can stay the night, right?”

You felt it immediately, no that this was a line you hadn’t crossed before. Something new. Uncertain. A request that meant more than it sounded like on the surface.

The room seemed to hold its breath with you.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Not out of hesitation exactly, but as if he was weighing what staying would mean, for both of you, in ways that went beyond the night itself.

Then his expression softened.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I can stay.”

Neither of you moved right away.

The TV kept playing in the background, Eventually, the heaviness of the night caught up with both of you at once.

Your breathing slowed first, then his followed without either of you noticing. At some point, your hand found his again under the blanket. Fingers loosely threaded together.

Gator shifted closer without really thinking about it, his head eventually tilted toward you, resting against your shoulder. He mumbled something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch. A few seconds later, his grip on your hand loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go.

You stayed awake a little longer, just enough to register the weight of him against you.

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Before either of you properly woke, daylight had started to trickle through the curtains.

Gator stirred first. He stayed still for a moment, then carefully shifted so he wasn’t leaning on you as much. You didn’t wake fully, just moved slightly in your sleep.

He looked at you for a few seconds, then leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. No words at first.

He got up slowly after that, careful with his movements as he pulled himself together, boots, vest, cap. He glanced back once while getting dressed.

“I’ll call you,” he said quietly. His thumb rubbed your cheek for a final time. He didn’t add anything else.

At the door, he paused briefly, looked back again, then left.

At 10:59pm exactly, Gator walked in. Sheriff vest on, vape in hand, he cut through the low hum of the place like it belonged to him, the atmosphere tightening without anyone needing to explain why.

Your manager reacted first, already stepping forward, assuming this was official business. You wondered if Gator was ever anywhere on just police business.

His gaze found you almost immediately. It lingered. Like the room had narrowed down to that one point.

“Here for the pretty one,” he said, easy as anything, lifting a finger in your direction.

Your stomach dropped so fast it felt physical. You didn’t smile. Heat climbed your neck anyway as you felt it, the shift in the room. Regulars turning. Chairs creaking. The immediate interest of people who would absolutely talk about this later. Your manager watching you now instead of him. Everyone watching you.

Gator looked at you like he didn’t care who saw it. Like he wanted them to. Your breath caught when his eyes dragged over your face again, slower this time, like he was taking inventory of you in front of everyone. You felt exposed under it.

“Need to ask a few questions about an incident last night,” he added, tone smoothing out just enough to pass for professional. But the grin never left him. Not even close. “That’s all.”

Except his eyes said something else entirely. You moved before you could think too much about it.

Snatching up your things too quickly, you barely checked if you’d clocked out properly, something you normally would’ve cared about. Not tonight. Not with the weight of the room on your back and Gator still watching you like that.

You pushed past your manager, shoulders tight, already half drowning in the weight of every stare still burning into your back.

The door barely had time to swing shut behind you before Gator was there, two long strides behind you, close enough that you could feel him before you saw him. He didn’t speak.

Just slipped past you at the exact moment you reached the cruiser, already pulling the passenger door open like it had always been his job to do it for you. You hesitated for half a beat, then you got in. You wanted to fight this, shout at him for embarrassing you like that, but you didn't want to waste the opportunity to see him. Although, you didn't agree with his means, you appreciated the outcome being some time alone.

The door shut with a solid, final sound that cut the outside world off completely. Inside, it was quieter. Gator started the engine without a word, the cruiser rumbling to life as the radio crackled faintly somewhere in the background.

He didn’t look at you. Not properly. Not yet.

You kept your eyes forward, hands tightening in your lap as the building behind you shrank in the side mirror, the glow of it fading with every turn of the wheels. But the silence between you wasn’t empty.

At a red light, his hand rested loosely near the gear shift, close enough that you could’ve reached it if you wanted to.

Neither of you spoke. But when he finally glanced your way, just briefly, it landed like something unsaid pressing hard against your chest. And then he looked back at the road.

Your fingers were already moving before your brain properly caught up, thumbs typing out: working late, see you when I get home.

It wasn't a complete lie, you would see your boyfriend at home, what difference did it make what you were doing?

The glow of your phone lit your face for a moment before you locked it and tucked it away, forcing your hands still in your lap.

Gator glanced over briefly. “You do that thing with your rings when you’re lyin’.”

Your fingers immediately stopped twisting the band around your thumb.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A quiet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.“Sure, sugar."

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“Free Fallin’? Really?” you said, laughter slipping out before you could stop it. “This is what you listen to when you’re alone?”

Gator let out a low breath through his nose, like he was offended on principle.

“It’s a classic,” he said, eyes still on the road. “Can’t knock a great song like that.”

You glanced at him, amused. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“It is an answer,” he replied. “Just not one you like.”

Your laugh came easier this time, warm and unguarded in a way that made the inside of the car feel smaller and closer. Safer, somehow, despite everything.

“Not a guilty pleasure,” he added after a beat, mouth tugging into that familiar half smile. “Just a pleasure.”

That did it again. That stupid, effortless charm of his. You shook your head, still smiling, looking out at the passing streetlights so he wouldn’t see how quickly your expression softened.

But he already had. You could feel it. The silence that followed wasn’t the same kind as before. It wasn’t heavy anymore.

Comfortable in a way that almost didn’t make sense given how the night had started, given what was still waiting for you on the other end of it.

Gator tapped his fingers once against the steering wheel in time with the music, glancing at you briefly before looking back at the road.

“Didn’t take you for a Petty fan,” you said quietly.

“I didn’t take you for a lot of things,” he replied, tone lighter now. “Turns out I keep being wrong.”

That made your smile falter for half a second, not because it hurt, but because it didn’t. Because it felt too close.

And somehow, without either of you acknowledging it directly, the conversation just kept going. Like it always did. Like it could’ve gone on forever if neither of you were careful enough to stop it.

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The cruiser rolled on through empty streets, streetlights washing over the windshield in slow, golden streaks. The radio stayed low, the music filling the gaps where words didn’t need to be.

For a while, neither of you spoke. Not because there was nothing to say. Just because it didn’t feel necessary. Then Gator exhaled through his nose, like something had been sitting on his mind for a while.

“You wanna hear somethin’ weird from today?” he asked after a while, one hand loose on the steering wheel.

You turned slightly toward him, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Depends how weird.”

Gator let out a quiet laugh beneath his breath. “Had this guy come into the station earlier,” he said. “Total crank type. Kinda fella you’d cross the street to avoid. Comes stormin’ right up to the front desk demanding to speak to a real officer.”

You snorted softly. “Poor choice ending up with you, then.”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied easily.

The cruiser rolled through a stretch of empty road, dashboard lights casting soft shadows across his face as he continued.

“So I go over there, right? And this man is dead serious, tellin’ me his next door neighbour is controllin’ the weather. Makin’ it rain specifically on the days he has to leave the house.”

You looked at him properly then, already smiling. “No.”

“Swear to God.” He glanced at you briefly, fighting a grin of his own now that he had your attention. “And apparently his evidence was every time the weather turned bad, the neighbour disappeared into his garage for a few minutes beforehand.”

Your laugh escaped before you could stop it.

“He thought there was a weather machine in there?”

“Oh, he was convinced,” Gator said. “Wanted me to search the property. Said it was ‘an act of environmental warfare.’”

That made you laugh harder, the sound filling the cruiser warm and easy. Gator looked straight at you then, smiling openly now, like making you laugh was the most rewarding part of the story.

“Tellin’ ya, sugar,” he drawled, shaking his head slightly, “there’s some weird people livin’ round here.”

You smiled, looking down at your hands for a second as your laughter settled into something softer. You never really heard much about his work. Truthfully, you never heard much about Gator’s life at all, not beyond the pieces he chose to let people see. So moments like this felt strangely intimate.

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The wheels of Gator’s cruiser rolled to a slow, gentle stop somewhere deep beneath a canopy of towering trees, the road long since disappearing behind you. Out here, tucked away in the middle of nowhere, the world felt eerily still. Dark. Quiet enough that you could hear the engine ticking softly beneath the hood.

If you’d ended up somewhere like this with anybody else, it probably would’ve felt like the beginning of a nightmare. Endless woods, no lights for miles, no sound except the faint rustle of leaves shifting in the night air. But sitting beside Gator, it didn’t feel frightening. For the first time all day, maybe all week, you felt strangely free. No prying eyes. No neighbours watching through curtains. No boyfriend waiting for a reaction out of you. Just the two of you, hidden away somewhere the rest of the world couldn’t reach.

Gator killed the engine, and the silence that followed settled warmly around you instead of heavily. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then he leaned back in his seat slightly, one arm resting near the window, eyes drifting toward you beneath the low glow of the dashboard lights.

“Told you I knew a place,” he murmured. The softness in his voice did something dangerous to your chest.

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You talked for a while.

Gator had an embarrassing amount of sugary sweet snacks hidden away in the dashboard compartment and somewhere between passing packets back and forth and laughing quietly at his terrible choices in candy, the conversation settled into something easy and comfortable.

He talked about everything.

Life. Work. Girls he’d almost loved and the ones he definitely shouldn’t have. What he wanted from the future, what he thought he was supposed to want. Every answer came easier out here, tucked away in the dark with rain beginning to tap softly against the windshield. Out of all the conversations you’d ever had with him, none had felt this raw before.

The radio crackled faintly in the background, picking up just enough signal for low music to drift through the cruiser every now and then. The car was warm despite the rain outside, the windows beginning to fog slightly at the corners.

At some point, you’d turned fully in your seat, your body facing his without even realising it. Gator noticed, though. You’d tugged your hands into the sleeves of your sweater without thinking, hiding from the chill creeping through the rain outside.

Gator noticed immediately.

“You still do that,” he murmured.

“Do what?”

His eyes flicked down toward your hands before returning to your face.

“Tuck your hands into your sleeves when you’re tired.”

The softness in his voice caught you off guard.

“You remember that?”

He gave a small shrug, like it was obvious.

“I remember everything about you.”

He used the moment to close the distance between you, slipping easily past the last of those careful little boundaries you kept trying to hold in place. His fingers curled gently around your covered hand, warm even through the fabric of your sleeve,

He laced your fingers together with his, confident and deliberate, before using the hold to gently tug you a little closer across the seat. Bold. Your breath caught quietly when he lifted your joined hands, pressing soft kisses against your fingers one by one, slow enough that each one lingered. When he finally looked up at you again, his eyes held yours completely.

“Give me somethin’,” he murmured. You froze slightly at the softness of it. “I won’t say anything. Won’t hold it against you.” A lump formed hard in your throat.

Gator’s thumb brushed absentmindedly across your knuckles, his voice dropping lower. “Just… somethin’,” he said quietly. “I’ll wait for you, you know I will.”

His gaze flicked between your eyes and your mouth for the briefest second. “But give me somethin’ to keep me going.”

Keeping his fingers intertwined with yours, Gator slowly leaned back into the seat, gently tugging your hand, and then the rest of you, along with him.

Your breath caught when his free hand settled carefully against your thigh, guiding your leg over his waist until you were straddling him in the cramped front seat of the cruiser. Your weight barely rested against him, hovering more than sitting, like you still hadn’t fully committed to the moment.

Before the guilt had a chance to properly settle in, you leaned closer instead, leaving only the smallest space between your mouths. You paused there for a second. Really looked at him.

At the way he was staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening either. A smile tugged at his mouth then, soft and boyish in a way that caught you completely off guard. Like a kid finally holding the one thing he’d wanted for far too long. Gator broke first.

His lips pressed against yours gently, almost cautiously at first, like he was giving you one last chance to pull away. But when you didn’t, he kissed you again almost immediately, slower this time, deeper, like he’d been thinking about it for weeks. Maybe he had.

Your hands found his chest instinctively, heat rushing through you at the solid warmth of him beneath your palms. Gator kissed like he did everything else, confidently. Patient enough to let you breathe, but controlled in a way that made your pulse flutter hard.

One of his hands slid up to your face, thumb brushing slowly along your cheekbone while the other stayed firm against your hip, grounding you against him in the small space of the car.

His mouth brushed yours again before his tongue caught lightly against your lower lip, coaxing rather than demanding, encouraging you closer. Braver.

And when you finally gave in properly, melting into him instead of holding yourself back, the quiet sound he made against your mouth nearly undid you entirely.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Not by anyone. It was consuming in a way that made your thoughts blur together, every careful excuse and hesitation melting beneath the weight of him. Electric and dangerous. The kind of kiss that made you understand, all at once, how people ruined perfectly good lives for each other.

Your fingers curled tighter into his shirt before slowly guiding one of his hands toward the hem of yours, testing him, teasing the line a little further. Gator’s breathing changed instantly.

You broke the kiss slowly, neither of you seeming willing to fully let go. Your lips lingered against his in soft, fading pecks before you finally pulled back enough to breathe properly again.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

The question surprised you. His fingers toyed carefully with the edge of your shirt, but he didn’t push any further. Didn’t assume. For all his confidence, he was still giving you the chance to stop this before it became something impossible to take back. An out. A way home.

But you only smiled, breathless and warm beneath his gaze. “I’m sure.”

Something softened in his expression at that. Then his mouth found your neck instead, kissing slowly, deliberately, each touch gentler than you expected from someone like him. His hands tightened slightly in the fabric at your waist like he was holding himself back by force.

And then,

The sharp buzz of your phone shattered the moment completely. Your boyfriend’s name lit up the screen. Reality came crashing back hard enough to make your stomach twist.

You scrambled awkwardly across the seat for the phone, answering far too quickly.

“Hi, babe,” you said, trying to steady your breathing. “Sorry, I’ve had such a nightmare.” The lie came easier than it should have.

Gator stayed close while you spoke, his face still tucked against your neck. He pressed one last absentminded kiss beneath your jaw before pulling back slightly, smoothing your shirt back down over your waist with careful hands. Though he never really moved them far away.

“Yeah,” you continued quickly, “my car wouldn’t start.” Gator rolled his eyes so dramatically you almost laughed.

“No, no, you don’t need to come get me,” you said. “One of the girls from work is dropping me home. I won’t be long.”

A pause. “Yeah. Love you too. See you then.”

The call ended. Silence settled back into the cruiser, though it felt different now. Less dreamy and more fragile. You looked back at Gator slowly.

“Party’s over, huh?” he said with a small smile, softer than teasing.

He could see it on your face immediately, the guilt creeping back in, the nerves, the way reality had wedged itself between the two of you again.

His thumb brushed lightly along your jaw before he leaned down to press a gentle kiss against your shoulder. “It’s alright,” he murmured.

Then, reluctantly, he shifted beneath you, helping guide you carefully back into your own seat beside him.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ୨ৎ ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The drive home was quiet after that. Not uncomfortable. Just heavy with everything neither of you knew how to say out loud anymore.

Rain continued to fall softly against the windshield as Gator drove through sleeping streets, one hand resting low on the wheel, the other tapping absently against his thigh every now and then.

When he finally pulled over at the end of your street, the cruiser idled softly beneath the glow of a flickering streetlamp.

Far enough away that nobody would see you getting out of his car. That part stung more than it should have. Gator stared out through the windshield for a long moment, jaw tight enough that you noticed. All he could hear was your voice from earlier.

Love you too. God, he hoped you hadn’t meant it.

“If you don’t wanna do this again…” he started quietly, his voice rougher now, stripped of all the teasing charm he usually hid behind, “I’d get it.”

You looked at him immediately. “But don’t cut me outta your life.”

He still wouldn’t look at you when he said it. That hurt too. Carefully, you reached over and let your hand brush across his shoulder, soft and reassuring beneath the thick fabric of his vest.

“Thanks for the ride home, Gates,” you said gently.

The nickname pulled the smallest smile from him at last. You gathered your things and climbed out of the cruiser, the cold night air rushing around you immediately. Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as you started the walk back toward your house.

Gator couldn’t watch you leave.

Because if he did, he knew he’d end up calling you back. Knew he’d say something reckless enough to ruin whatever fragile line still existed between the two of you. His grip tightened once against the steering wheel instead. How the hell was he supposed to let something like you walk away?

You tried to calm him, to keep your own frustration in check and not escalate things further. But it didn’t last. Soon enough, you were trading back your own comments, small digs, more from exhaustion than anger.

Eventually, you gave up altogether, retreating into the small kitchen you both shared. Outside, he carried on as if nothing had happened at all.

You flicked through your phone, anger and hurt settling into something heavier. The familiar ache of it all. You hadn’t been scrolling long when a message lit up your screen.

G. – Everything alright? Had a call come in for your place? Something about a domestic?

Gator knew, kind of. He knew your relationship wasn’t violent or dangerous, but that it often tipped into something heated and messy. It was something you’d talked about with him more than once.

He was intrigued by you. Fascinated, even. Like he wanted to pull you out of whatever you were stuck in and keep you for himself. He’d learned to keep his distance, though. The one time he’d tried to kiss you, you’d ignored him for weeks after. Not forever, but enough to make him careful.

And still, that wasn’t enough to make him stop hovering at the edges of your life. As long as he got to see you, often in quiet, undisclosed places, he stayed close. Those moments were always the same, charged silences, gut wrenching eye contact, fleeting touches that lingered like sparks, conversations that felt like they could stretch on endlessly if neither of you ever pulled away.

You – Yeah, just a silly argument. Wasn’t aimed at me until it was.

G. – Doesn’t realise how good he’s got it.

You – If only. I’m sure he’ll forget about it soon enough.

G. – Maybe someone needs to remind him.

You left it there.

That was typical of Gator, always pushing, always testing the edges of what you’d let him say. Sometimes you wondered what you were even waiting for. But you weren’t ready to walk away from everything you’d built, even if Gator was standing on the other side of that decision.

You’d settled into the newest Netflix documentary, drink in one hand and a blanket pulled up over your knees, when the sound of heavy tyres grinding over gravel cut through the quiet.

Your stomach dropped. A cruiser rolled into view, STARK COUNTY emblazoned across the side.

And then, a very familiar figure stepped out. Before Gator could take more than a few steps, you were already moving, crossing the yard to meet him halfway.

Your expression was calm. But the look in your eyes said something entirely different as you stopped in front of him.

“Can I help you, officer?” you asked sweetly, voice dripping with politeness and pleasantries.

“Hi, darlin’,” he replied. His eyes passed over you. You were thanking yourself that you'd make an effort earlier. Hair curled, favourite dress. You could tell he appreciated it.

His voice carried easily through the air, drawn out in that deliberate, slow cadence that always did something irritatingly effective to your nerves.

You didn’t need to look around to know what it looked like from the outside. Every pair of eyes in that yard was on the two of you. Your partner, his friends, even the people passing by slowing their steps just a little too long.

It felt like a performance now. Like you were both aware of the stage and refusing to step off it. And you knew, whatever came next, you had to deliver.

Gator leaned one arm against the open cruiser door, completely unhurried despite the way every set of eyes in the yard had fixed onto him. His gaze stayed on you the entire time.

“Got a call about a disturbance,” he said casually. “Figured I’d come check it out myself.”

You folded your arms. “And here I thought you were just bored.”

A crooked smile pulled at his mouth.

“Well,” he drawled, “that too. Pretty face like yours makes my day better." Every word was followed with his intense way of looking at you. The kind that lit a fire right through you.

Behind you, someone shifted in their chair. Your boyfriend muttered something under his breath, low enough that Gator ignored it entirely.

“Everything alright out here?” Gator asked, finally glancing past you toward the group. His tone was official enough, but there was something taunting underneath it. “Nobody put their hands on anybody?”

“No,” you answered quickly. Gator’s eyes slid back to yours.

“You sure about that, darlin’?” he asked softly. “Wouldn’t be the first time somebody tried to downplay things for me.”

Your stomach flipped at the tone alone.

“Small disagreement, all sorted,” you said. “That’s all.”

“Mhm.” He nodded slowly, unconvinced in a way that felt deliberate. “And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He stepped a little closer then, enough that you caught the scent of sweet vape smoke and aftershave beneath the evening air.

“Don’t look fine,” he murmured. He reached out, his fingertips barely nudging your elbow in an attempt to encourage a few more words to fall from your lips.

Your boyfriend finally stood from his chair. “Officer, we already said everything’s handled.”

Gator looked at him for the first time since arriving. His face unimpressed and slightly disappointed. That was who you were choosing over him?

“Didn’t ask you,” he replied flatly. Silence cracked across the yard. Then, just as quickly, he smiled again. Easy, charming, dangerous.

“Part of the job,” he said lightly. “Gotta make sure everybody here feels safe.”

His attention returned to you instantly. “She feels safe with you?” he asked, voice deceptively casual.

Your boyfriend bristled. “Course she does.” Gator tilted his head slightly, studying you instead of him.

“That true?” The question hung there. Heavy. Personal.

Your pulse hammered so loudly you were convinced everyone could hear it. “I said we’re fine,” you answered carefully.

Gator hummed under his breath like he knew better. Your boyfriend stared at Gator for another tense second, jaw working like he was trying to decide whether punching a sheriff’s deputy was worth the trouble.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered eventually, throwing his hands up. “Unbelievable.”

“Hey,” Gator called after him mildly, “don’t leave yet. I still got questions.”

“Ask somebody who cares,” your partner snapped, already stalking back toward the house. The screen door slammed hard enough to rattle the frame behind him.

Silence settled over the yard again, thick and awkward. A couple of his friends suddenly seemed very interested in their drinks. One quietly excused himself altogether.

Gator looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“You enjoy causing problems?” you asked under your breath.

He stepped closer, boots crunching softly against the gravel. Close enough now that nobody else could reasonably hear him unless they were trying. “Only when they’re already there,” he said.

You shook your head, trying not to smile despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Mhm.” His eyes dragged over you slowly, shamelessly. “You're a pretty little thing, y’know that?”

Your breath caught embarrassingly fast. “Deputy.”

“No, I mean it.” His voice softened then, lower, rougher around the edges. “Been standing there trying to do my job while you’re looking at me like that. Damn near distracting.” Heat rose through you. His friends were definitely listening once again now.

“You are not doing your job.”

He grinned. “Little bit.” You rolled your eyes, but he noticed the way your shoulders loosened around him, the way your anger had started dissolving into nervous warmth.

That smug look settled onto his face immediately.

“There she is,” he murmured. “Knew I could get you smiling.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“Sure, darlin’.”

His gaze flicked briefly toward the house before returning to you.

“You know,” he said casually, “you could do a hell of a lot better than this.”

You crossed your arms tighter around yourself. “Don’t start.”

“I’m serious.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping low enough that it felt private. “Sweet girl like you in that kitchen alone while he drinks and picks fights outside?”

His eyes searched yours for a second too long. “That don’t sit right with me.”

Your pulse fluttered hard in your throat.

“Gator…”

“What?” he asked quietly. “You think I like hearing your name come over dispatch connected to some domestic call?”

You looked away first. That seemed to encourage him.

“If you were mine,” he continued, almost conversationally, “you wouldn’t be wondering whether somebody was gonna turn mean after a few drinks.”

“You can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” His smile turned softer this time, less cocky, more dangerous somehow. “They’re true.”

You swallowed hard as he stepped even closer, the toe of his boot nearly touching yours now.

“Well,” he said at last, all lazy charm again, “if that’s everything, little miss, I’ll leave you to enjoy your evening.”

The title should’ve sounded patronising. Somehow, coming from him, it only made heat crawl higher up your neck.

“But,” he continued, reaching into his shirt pocket, “if anything changes…”

He pulled out a card and held it toward you between two fingers.

“Don’t be afraid to call me.”

Your eyes flicked down to it. Not the station number. His number. Gator’s mouth twitched when he realised you’d noticed. Showboating. Something that would get left on the kitchen counter to piss off that boyfriend of yours even more. He didn't need to give you this, you already had it. But to Gator this was a game, and that was his winning move.

“That’ll get you through to me directly,” he said smoothly. “Real quick, too, if you need anything.” His gaze lingered on you for a beat too long. “And I mean anything.”

Your fingertips burned when they brushed his taking the card from him. Behind you, somebody shifted awkwardly in their chair. Another muttered a quiet Jesus Christ under their breath.

Gator didn’t care. He was still looking at you like the two of you were alone out there.

“See you around, darlin’,” he said softly. You hated how easily your voice caught.

“Yeah,” you managed. “See you around.” His eyes dragged slowly over your face one last time, shameless and lingering enough to make your pulse stumble all over again.

Then he stepped back toward the cruiser. Just before climbing inside, he glanced at you through the open door and lifted two fingers to the side of his head in a lazy little call me gesture.

The wink that followed nearly finished you off entirely. A second later, the engine roared back to life, gravel crunching beneath the tyres as he pulled away.

And somehow, with your boyfriend angry inside the house and half the neighbourhood likely talking already, all you could think about was the when you would get to see Gator again.