SUMMARY in which your now ex boyfriend cheats on you with his so called 'work wife.' your solution? getting back at him with his new girlfriend's newly dumped ex, steve harrington. you'll get your revenge for sure.
WARNINGS 18+ MDNI cheating, teamed up revenge dating, fake dating, toxic exes, rom com, rightfully petty reader w/ attitude, angst, fluff, smut every chapter you’re warned lol, steve and reader are both idiots who eventually fall in love, adult language, smoking/drinking, inspired by olivia rodrigo’s “get him back”
WORD COUNT ?
CHAPTER ONE 18+
CHAPTER TWO 18+
CHAPTER THREE 18+
AUTHORS NOTE: hello! this will be a small mini series, i am still very much focusing on 'i'm your man.' it's just good for me to have several projects to go back and forth on whether it's series or one shots, so that way i'm not forcing myself to write something i'm not in the mood for.
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Gator’s wife is in labor. The cruiser can’t get them to the hospital fast enough.
2.5k one shot
Author’s Note: Listen. Once I had the idea of Gator delivering his own kid in the cruiser, the fic practically wrote itself. DLDR, enjoy✌🏼
cw: accidental car birth, cursing, a terrified husband!gator doing his best
“I wanna put the lights on,” says Gator.
“Don’t put the lights on,” his wife argues, tense and steady. She almost doesn’t recognize her own voice, but that’s probably warranted, given the circumstances. “Just keep driving.”
He glances at her, but her eyes are closed in intense focus, her large belly extended over the tops of her thighs. ‘Any day now’ has been a frequent phrase in their household for weeks.
He returns his gaze to the road.
The past few hours had been a blur, and his sense of time is gone altogether. How was it nighttime already? When the contractions had started that morning, she hadn’t even bothered mentioning it. More false labor, surely. But by that afternoon, once her water had broken in the bath— she’d called her husband, even if he was on patrol in the cruiser.
The turn signal clicks as they merge onto the highway, the police car speeding over icy roads.
It’s snowing heavily now. And sleeting. A mix of ice shards and clumps of snow fall through the cruiser’s headlight beams. The ABS kicks in here and there, but the snow chains do their job.
His wife holds onto the roof handle anyway, taking another long breath and exhaling intentionally slow.
“Fuck,” she adjusts her hips in the front seat. “Another one.”
“Breathe,” Gator says, a mantra for both of them since getting in the car.
“I am breathing,” she bites back. “Fuck fuck fuck—“ and her words cut off altogether, her head flung back, her crown on the headrest. It’s just a moan now, low and in her throat, from her chest. Animalistic.
“Keep breathing,” Gator says, fighting off his own lightheadedness. There’s no one else on the road at this hour, just the two of them in his cruiser on the way to their nearest hospital. Forty-five minutes away.
She’s still moaning her way through it, louder now, bordering on an outright yell. He wants to reach over and touch her, comfort her, but the last time he’d tried that, she’d nearly bitten his head off. Which— fair.
The contraction seems to ebb, her cry turning to a hum with each breath.
“Just— drive,” she whines, rolling her head in exhaustion, sweat at her temples. “Drive, please drive. Oh god, I can’t— we’re not gonna make it—“
“We’re gonna make it,” he says, sure as anything, even if he doesn’t feel it. He braves a light touch to the back of her hand. “I’ve got ya.”
She grabs onto him, shaking with exhaustion or fear, he doesn’t know. “You’ve got me,” she mutters quietly, almost to herself. “We’ll make it.”
“Yeah, darlin’. Keep going, you’re doing great.” He swerves to avoid a snowdrift, drawing a quick inhale from her in surprise.
“Sorry,” he says, but doesn’t get a response back. Lost again in the intensity of labor’s throes.
The snow continues on, silent and steady, even though the sound of the road underneath the tires is deafening on his ears. They’re almost halfway there.
With a crackle, the radio on Gator’s dash comes to life.
“Patrol 11, Dispatch.” The voice is grainy, distant, but there nonetheless.
He snatches the radio off the dash, holds it to his mouth, pressing the button on top. He hasn’t realized his hands are sweaty until now. “Patrol 11, go ahead.”
“Gator, it’s Stevens.” The introduction is unnecessary— Gator knows his coworkers by voice alone, even on a distant radio signal. “How’s Operation Alligator coming along?”
Gator glances over at his passenger seat. The love of his life— loves, really— just a few feet away. His wife’s face is pinched in pain, her hand low on her belly, as if holding it prevents further progression.
The talk button clicks as he presses it.
“En route,” he says.
“Copy that. What’s your ETA to St. Margaret’s?”
He checks the clock. Not soon enough, but he doesn’t want to say that out loud. He drops his voice.
“Twenty three forty one.”
“Copy that,” Stevens statics back. “Are you on I-29?”
He’s about to confirm he is, but a vice-like grip on his forearm interrupts him before he starts.
“I’m having another,” she says, high-pitched and breathy.
He’s not heard her lose her cool yet, not today, not in all their years at the station together. Moan and groan and yell, yes, but that tinge of panic, that loss of control— that was new. And he didn’t like it.
“You’re okay—“ he starts, but he’s quickly interrupted.
“It’s too soon, they’re so close—“ she whimpers, and then she’s lost again in the pain, crying out as she arches her back against the seat.
If his arm didn’t have bruises before, he definitely does now.
His radio is cracking, but he can’t hear what’s been said. Between that and trying to see the road in this snow, it takes all his concentration to stay in a lane. He quickly hangs up the radio and focuses on the drive.
“Breathe,” he says again, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Keep breathing.”
“I’ve gotta— I can’t—“ she says, but no further words come out. Instead, her tone changes again, a shift in its nature. It’s guttural, forceful, enough to move mountains.
“Oh, Christ,” he curses to himself, double and then triple checking the passenger seat. “Are you pushing?!”
A teeth-clenching moan is the only response he gets, and whether it’s tears or sweat rolling down her face, he isn’t sure. Her voice is hoarse now, nearly giving out despite her efforts.
“Don’t push, momma, keep breathing, we’re nearly there,” Gator pants, even though he knows it’s no use. They aren’t, in fact, nearly there. They’re barely halfway.
He’s not seen many births in his life, but he knows enough. There’s no going back now, whether he likes it or not.
She seems to know that, too.
“Pull over,” she says with finality. She’s already adjusting in her seat, unbuckling her seatbelt and pushing her shorts down her thighs. “Right now. Pull over.”
His feet and hands feel numb, driving on instinct, but he’s worked in this cruiser enough to know his way around even when scared shitless. He eases off the accelerator, hits the lights for visibility. Blue and red neon glows off the drifting snowflakes.
The radio goes off again.
“Patrol 11?” The voice crackles. “Gator?”
Gator nearly jumps out of his seat, dropping the radio on his first try to get it in his grip.
“This is Patrol 11. We’re pulling over.” His voice isn’t shaking, thank god. The guys at the station would never stop giving him shit for it if it was.
“What?!” Stevens calls back.
His instincts take over. “This is Patrol 11. I’m southbound on I-29, just past mile marker 74. I’m telling you, we’re pulling over.”
“Gator-“
But whatever Stevens was about to say, it’s drowned out by the long, low groan of pain from his wife.
“Gator!” she cries.
Gator flips a switch on the side of the radio, opening the line and leaving it open. He can call out to them if he needs to, but he has a feeling his hands are about to be otherwise occupied. He pulls over, the cruiser finally easing to a stop.
Out the window, he can see the road is vacant, probably due to the weather. Dark sky stretches in all directions, red and blue reflecting off the snow around them. The cold wind howls as it swirls around the car.
His wife starts pushing again— a new contraction, or was it still the last? He’s lost track already. Her groan is low yet deafening, but he needs it— pure motivation to keep moving, keep going.
He calls out to the radio, assuming they can hear him over the chaos.
“She’s pushing, we’re on the shoulder, lights blazing.” He fumbles with his seatbelt, trying to quickly untangle himself but failing amidst the folds of his winter coat. “Send the nearest ambulance, can’t miss us.”
“Fuck!” she wails. “Gates—” she reaches for him, her other hand gripping the car like her life depends on it. Her legs are open, the curve of her belly is low, so low— Gator swallows the urge to puke and opens his side door.
His boots sink inches into the snow. With one hand on his belted holster, he trudges around the front of the car as fast as he can.
Never a dull moment. Not since he fell in love with her all those years ago. Since day one, she’s kept him on his toes, but this might take the cake.
By the time he flings open the passenger door, his wife has already turned, reclined and open and ready for him— except not in their usual way.
“I’ve got ya,” he mumbles out of instinct. “I’ve got ya, yer doin’ great.” He takes her leg, braces her foot on his shoulder. He’s seen livestock do this, how different can it be?
…Right?
Except— this isn’t a horse. This is his wife. His daughter.
And he can’t see a damn thing. The cruiser’s interior lights are dim, too dim to see what he’s doing. And his snow gloves— donned ages ago for warmth— mean he can’t feel anything either.
“She’s—,” his wife urgently cries out, “Oh fuck, I can’t—!” Then she’s lost again in the midst of her pain, bearing down in uncontrollable instinct.
He’s too busy yanking off his gloves, letting them fall into the snow beneath them.
He may not be able to see anything, but he’ll be damned if he can’t hold his own kid with his bare hands.
Whether they’re shaking from cold or nerves, who knows, but as he drags them up the inside of his wife’s thighs, he finds exactly what he was expecting to, and even then it’s a surprise.
“Oh, shit,” he says, first a whisper, then an exclamation. “Oh shit!”
A effortful grunt sounds above him, the leg braced against his chest relenting just a bit.
“Gates?!”
“I’ve got her head,” he says, and even as the words come out of him they sound surreal, not quite real in the heat of the moment. “She’s right here, I’ve got her.”
And he does— between his palms, the soft roundness of his daughter’s head, warm and wet where it’s just been born into the world.
“She’s okay?” Breathless, winded.
He’s checking— this part he knows. Well, not knows, but Olensky told him once after he’d had a roadside birth years back— check the neck for a cord, move it if you have to. He’s feeling his daughter’s neck now, beneath her jaw and around the back, and while he doesn’t know what a cord feels like, he’s pretty sure he only feels his daughter at his fingertips.
“Gator,” his wife grits out. “Is she okay?”
Another contraction is coming; he can feel the tension in his wife’s leg at his shoulder, the solid force pushing his daughter further into his hands.
“She’s right as rain,” he says, and his voice is shaking now. “I’ve got her, darling, keep going.”
His wife curls up in agony once more, but he keeps his voice, keeps talking.
“Don’t fight it now, c’mon. I know you can. Get it done, give me all you got.”
His wife cries out again, but this time without holding back. No longer fighting the natural force of things, she gives herself over to it and bears down.
Gator’s kneeling in the snow, the ice biting at his knees, guiding his daughter with trembling hands.
“That’s my girl, keep going,” he encourages, the fruits of her effort pressing into his hands. “She’s coming—“
And she is; one shoulder, then the other, twisting over into his palms, a tidal wave of warmth and wet dripping over his fingers—
His wife gives a final shove, and in a forceful rush, his daughter is delivered into his waiting hands.
“Oh my god,” he says, adjusting his grip to keep hold of her.
He pulls her forward, into the dim light from the car, and there she is. Their daughter— wrinkled and red and with lots of hair, looking as surprised to be in the world as her parents are she’s entered it this way.
On the side of the highway halfway between the ranch and the hospital. Go figure.
He passes their daughter into his wife’s waiting arms, minding the cord, but it doesn’t seem to matter. His wife reaches for her, pulling her to her chest.
Gator remains kneeling, shock rolling through him.
“Hi there, my love,” his wife coos, rubbing her back, holding her head. “Give us a cry, now, come on.”
As though on command, his daughter shrieks into the cold night air, clearing her lungs, breathing in, wailing again.
“Oh hello,” his wife says, shaking with joy and tears. “Hello, there. That was quite an entrance you just made.”
A siren sounds in the distance, and emergency lights appear in the horizon. The guys at the station heard his call, sent an ambulance to them in the middle of nowhere. The thought of it makes him want to cry in relief.
Gator, remembering where he is, hastily strips his thick winter coat, tucking it around his daughter’s tiny body. His wife looks at him gratefully, exhausted, before returning her attention to the baby.
The radio is still on the console, and he reaches for it, leaning over his wife.
“Stevens!” He calls. “She’s here, she’s okay. Ambulance is pulling in.”
“Gator! What the fuck, man! Did you guys just have a baby?”
His hands are still shaking, frozen through and covered in blood and whatever else, but he’s starting to wrap his brain around it now, too.
He clicks the talk button.
“We just had a baby.”
The static sound on the other end of the line isn’t one voice, but many— the guys at the station, calling out in congratulations.
Steven’s voice eventually comes back. “Yeah, yeah, big shot. We’ll make sure to get you guys a tape of this.”
Gator laughs nervously, the adrenaline still coursing through him.
“Oh, that’s all right.” Quite honestly, he’s still scared shitless and doesn’t ever want to relive that experience ever again.
The ambulance has pulled up alongside them now, more lights and sound, tires on gravel.
His wife reaches over, asking for the radio. Gator passes it to her. She holds the mic up to her face in a practiced motion.
“Dispatch, this is Officer Tillman,” she says, clear and firm, as though she hasn’t just gone through the ordeal she has. “You better get me that tape by Monday.”
“Two copies, 10-4,” she says, passing the radio back to her husband with a smug grin on her face, just as the EMTs start unloading the stretcher.
It’s an image he’ll remember forever— his wife, sideways in the passenger seat of his cruiser, their newborn on her chest, draped in his winter coat, the snow drifting down around their dark forms huddled in his car.
The smile his wife gives him— exhausted and proud and grateful and relieved. The flash of blues and reds. The cry of their daughter, alive and well.
His daughter— born in his cruiser on the side of the highway.
Desc: After being forcefully married off to Gator Tillman, forced to share a house with him, forced to get to know him as your husband, secrets are unveiled that are better off buried. But maybe Gator isn’t so bad after all? Maybe… you can change him?
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
-
Here is gone (in progress)
Desc: As a 22 year old junior in college things are simple. Study, more studying, hanging out with friends and going to the bar. What else is there to do in college? Everything has been going according to your plans until one night Deputy Gator Tillman finds himself in the bar you frequent. The rest of the story is history, but as many might know, history isn’t always good. It serves as a warning, a reminder of the past and the mistakes that don’t need repeated
-
Saltwater Taffy- (in progress)
Desc: Being best friends with Gator Tillman came to you as naturally as breathing, he was woven into every aspect of your soul, the two of you were intertwined by an invisible string of fate that neither of you really understood. He was your best friend, your protector.. Your… Well there weren’t many other words you could call him before the initial term ‘best friend’ lost its meaning and you started to describe him more like a lover.
A story of love, longing, and the art of slowly falling in love with your best friend.
-
The Academy (in progress)
Desc: Going through the police academy wasn’t ever really something you’d considered or put much thought into, it was more something that had just sort of… Happened. Some things in life you just couldn’t explain. You wanted to do it to prove to yourself that you could, that was the main reason. Sometimes that was all you needed, to put a little faith in yourself. Aka a story about the girl Gator Tillman met during his time in the police academy. His study buddy if you will, his partner in crime (fighting)
-
Makin’ My Way Back to You- (in progress)
Desc: After coming back to Stark County after four years in college, Gator is somehow worse than you remember. You hate him, you swear you hate him, you know he’s trouble, but you’re also drawn to him, simply because he’s not a bad fuck.
Part 1, Part 2
-
Ones shots & requests:
Baby mama: You’ve been trying to convince Gator to have a baby for a while now, he’s said no every time. What happens when you finally convince him?
Feelin’ Me: Gator loses his eyesight but he gains a new talent. The ability to touch you with his fingers in a way that makes you see stars.
First Time For Everything: You’re ready to jump Gator’s bones, obviously he’s down for it. Except once you’ve had your fun, you have to admit to him that you were a virgin.
Cookie Dough: Gator had always been grossed out by periods, but you show him maybes it’s not as bad as he seems. Also he’s blind in this one.
Crying: Gator had a rough day at work. He comes crawling home to be between your legs. He lets it all out, even the tears.
Edging Gator: Doesn’t need much of a description. Literally what it reads, edging Gator.
Cuffing: Gator keeps a pair of cuffs on his bed at all times. He likes to use them on you, but what happens when you switch things up a bit and use them on him instead?
Cumplay: Gator has an obsession with seeing you covered in his cum. Every. Part. Of. Your. Body.
Look At Me: You’ve been waiting all day for Gator to come home. Once he does, he completely ignores you. Once you cry, he finally shows you some attention
Fuzzy Pink Cuffs: You and Gator buy a new pair of cuffs, fuzzy, pink. Gator tests them out on you for the first time.
Prey Drive: You convince Gator to wear matching costumes with you to a Halloween party. Gator is a hunter, you’re the deer. The two of you get a little too invested in it all and have some fun in the woods after dark.
69: Easy to explain. 69’ing with Gator. He’s very messy with it.
The Waiting Game: Gator’s the hardened sheriff deputy of Stark County. He hurts people, asks questions later. You never expected someone like him to be a virgin… But he’s had his eye on you for a while, wanting you to be the one.
Gentle: Gator’s always fucked hard and fast. The first time he actually makes love to you, he gets a bit emotional.
Dirty Dishes: Gator comes home to a sink full of dishes, he’s irritated with it. He hadn’t meant to make you cry but he knows exactly how to make it better, soft sex in front of the full body mirror in your bedroom.
Strawberry: Gator’s always had a thing for your ass, a what happens when you take a liking to his? When Gator takes you on a little adventure to a sex shop, you find a strap on that you can’t stop thinking about. How do you convince Gator to let you use it on him?
Black Dress: Gator always gets under your skin. His smirk, his words.. What happens if you slap some sense into him? Literally…
Grumpy: After an overwhelming day, you lash out at Gator. Instead of being mad at you about it, he comforts you.
Evidence (Of My Love) after transferring to Start County Gator has been a constant thorn in your side. He manages to get you alone in the evidence room and the two of you have some fun, even though you know it’s a bad idea. He’s a bad idea.
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* = smut, 18+ only, minors DNI
♡ = personal favorites
↳ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬
𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫!*♡ coming soon! (teaser)
↳ 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫*♡ (𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤!𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫) - when are you gonna fucking learn? doesn’t it ever cross your mind that somebody could be out here, watching? some creep. some sick bastard taking that invitation you keep leaving wide fucking open.
⤷ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫-𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3
𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐭? (𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬) - you mistake the deputy sheriff of this backwater county for a stripper. cue the most disastrous meet-cute ever.
Warning: smut, oral (f&m recieving), established relationship, Switch Gator, unprotected PinV (reader on birth control), praise kink, reader calls Gator Daddy a couple times, use of pet names instead of y/n, choking, fluffy ending. Not proofread.
Dividers by @silkholland
It was 11pm just before bed and you were sitting at your vanity applying lotion all over your body when you heard Gator slam the front door so hard you wondered if the glass inserts were still intact, it was a few hours past when he was supposed to be home so obviously something happened and judging by the stomping coming up the stairs whatever happened had something to do with his father once again, and it had not gone the way his father wanted it, you never asked many questions because Roy Tillman was shady as hell and to be frank you despised the mans existence particularly for the way he treated his son, Gator just wanted his approval and to make him proud, but Roy was an insufferable prick who couldn't be pleased, probably why he was on his 4th wife, amongst other reasons.
The door to your bedroom swings open just as you finish the last of your night time routine, you look up at Gator and he has a black eye forming- again, and he does not look happy.
"Hey baby, are you okay? Do you need an icepack?" you ask sweetly, as you rush over to him, stroking his cheek lightly.
"No" he grunts "but I do want you stripped down and waiting on the end of the bed for me by the time I'm done in the shower"
"Yes Daddy" you say as he turns around and stomps towards your shared en suite bathroom.
As soon as you heard the shower turn on, you quickly raced over to your vanity, checking your reflection in the mirror and adjusting your hair quickly before stripping out of your nightgown, panties and robe, laying them carefully on the back of the chair. You sit yourself on the edge of the bed, hands resting on your knees as you wait for Gator.
Gator walks out of the shower, white towel slung low on his hips, droplets of water slowly sliding down his toned chest and abdomen, the front of the towel already tenting from his rapidly hardening cock, the sight making you clench your thighs together.
"Good girl" he simple says as he takes in the sight of you perched on the end of the bed, his primal gaze raking over your naked form, which only adds to the heat building between your thighs. "On your knees and open your mouth for me darlin" Gator commands as he struts over to you, dropping the towel on the way, giving you full view of his thick hard cock, the tip was red, swollen and already leaking precum.
You quickly obey his command and drop to your knees on the floor at the foot of the bed, opening your mouth. Sometimes you wish he would at least kiss you first when he got in moods like this, but you know you will receive tenfold once he lets out a bit of his frustrations so you never say anything.
Standing directly in front of you Gator grabs the base of his cock and guides the tip into your mouth resting it on your tongue.
"Now be a good girl for Daddy and take what I give you" He says as he pushes his cock further into your mouth, you nod quickly as your wrap your lips around his thick length.
Gator harshly grips you by the hair at the back of your head, the resulting stinging sensation making you moan around his cock as he starts thrusting into your mouth at an aggressive pace, you gag a little as the head repeatedly slides down your throat.
"Fuck, takin' my cock so well, such a little cock slut for me arent you letting me fuck your throat like a toy" Gator taunts as he continues his relentless assault on your throat, you moan around his cock in response as your hands find purchase on his thick, hairy thighs to steady yourself.
At this point, you knew you looked absolutely wrecked, tears running down your cheeks and drool dripping from your chin, as Gators cock continued to ram the back of your throat.
"Getting close babe, gunna cum" Gator grunted as his hips faltered, his cock twitching in your mouth.
A few more thrusts and he was spilling down the back of your throat, his grip on your hair tightening momentarily to still your head making sure you swallowed every last drop he had to offer.
When he was done, he loosened his grip on your hair kneeling down on the floor in front you to make sure you were okay.
"Are you okay baby?" He asked sweetly as he wiped the tears of your face, his entirely demeanour changing after releasing a little anger.
"I'm okay" you croak in response, your throat still a little sore from previous events.
"Let me get you some water honey" Gator says as he gets up and heads for the bathroom, he returns with a glass of tap water for you, which you gladly accept, sculling the water greedily, gator returns the glass to the bathroom before kneeling down in front of you again, his hands cupping your face as his gaze flits across your soft features.
"You did so well for me baby" he says as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, it so soft and sweet, it makes your heart melt.
"Stand up for me sweetheart, let me take care of you now, show you how much i love and appreciate you" he whispers as he pulls away his chocolate brown eyes peering into the depths of yours.
You slowly stand up while Gator remain on his knees in front you, his need to totally dominate and then submit to you completely afterwards makes your head spin, but you would be lying if you said you didnt enjoy it.
Gator takes your right leg and hoists it over his shoulder, his lips pressing feather light kisses up the inside of your thigh as he gets closer and closer to your dripping centre. You gasp when his tongue finally slides through your slick folds, your hands flying to head to steady yourself, his thick hands grip the soft flesh of your ass as he pulls you closer into him, his face now full buried between your thighs as he laps at your dripping cunt like its his last meal, soft moans fall from your slightly parted lips as he wraps his around your clit and gentle sucks and licks at the sensitive nub.
"Fuck, such a good boy for me, making me feel so good baby" you breath out, he moans into you, the vibrations sending chills up your spine, he always loves when you praise him, always eager to please you once he has blown off a little steam.
Your knees nearly buckle when you feel two of his fingers breach your sopping hole, he starts off at a slow and steady pace, his thick digits working in tandem with his tongue as he flicks it over your clit, you can feel the pressure on your impending orgasm rising in your stomach.
"Oh fuck, right there baby, I'm so close" you moan out, you grip on his hair tightening as your thrust your hips against his tongue, he loves it when you ride his face.
Gator increases his pace, his fingers thrusting faster as his tongue slides over your clit again and again, after one particular hash suck the coil in your abdomen snaps, your arousal spilling all over his face as you orgasm crashes over your, your legs barely holding you up as they tremble, you physically have to yank Gators head back to get him to stop as the overstimulation gets too much for you. Gator looks up you, face shining with your juices and his eyes practically glazed with submission, he was absolutely fucked out and he hadn't even been inside you yet.
"So good for me baby, thank you" you coo as you guide him to a standing position, wrapping your arms around his neck, you kiss him deeply, his tongue slipping inside your mouth as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, his thick cock pressing into your lower stomach as you both moan into the kiss.
Gator gently guides you backwards, one arm supporting your lower back, the other pressed into the mattress as he lowers you down onto the bed, his lips never leaving yours in the process.
"Gonna make you feel so good honey" he whispers as pulls away, you both silently move further up the bed, gators lips pressing into your neck softly as you get comfortable.
"You always me feel so good babyboy" you gasp in response as he kisses his way down your chest, his tongue flicking over your nipple.
"Yeah?" He questions as he fully wraps his lips around the hardened peak, little sighs and moans escaping your lips as he continues to suckle, his fingers pinching and flicking over the other making sure not to neglect it.
"Fuck, yes, of course baby, need you inside me" you moan as you spread your legs open for him.
"Want you to ride me, please, sweetheart," he begs you as he grips your hips, ready to flip you over.
"Of course, anything for you my sweet boy" say softly, Gator quickly flips you both of so you are on top of him straddling him, knees either side of his body, his thick cock pressing into your wet core deliciously. You grind yourself against him, your slick coating his length, his fingers digging into soft flesh of your hips as he groans out.
You grasp the base of his cock as you lift yourself up, lining his tip up with your entrance, expletives leaving both your mouths as you lower yourself down on him, the stretch is absolutely delicious, he always fills you up in a way nobody else ever could. Placing your hands on his chest for support, you give yourself a few moments to adjust before you slowly start sliding up and down on his cock, his eyes rolling back in his head as your tight cunt clenches around him.
"Fuck, oh fuck, that's it, fuck yourself on my cock, take what you need from me baby, I'll give you everything i have, wanna give it all to you" he babbles as you ride him faster, his hands now gripping your ass, spreading you open even further for him.
The whimpers and moans leaving his lips as you look down at his face were almost pathetic, but god, did you enjoy it when he got like this.
"So good for me baby" you praised him as you kept riding him, you lightly gripped his throat with hand, his hips jerking up in response as he let out and almost inhuman sound. The coil in your abdomen was tightening rapidly again, you knew you wouldn't last much longer at this rate.
"S-so close, gunna cum" you moaned out, your pace faltering as your orgasm crept closer and closer.
"Mmm, fuck, Cum all over my cock baby" he gasped out, his grip on your hips now almost bruising as he fucked up into you. Your body shook as your orgasm hit you full force, detonating like a bomb, screams of his name chanted like a prayer as you clenched around his cock, your body slumping against his as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, dragging out your high.
Suddenly you were on your back again, the feeling of you clenching around him as you came sent Gator absolutely feral, he threw your legs over his shoulders as he knelt on the bed, gripping your thighs he started thrusting into you like a man possessed as he chased his own high, animalistic grunts leaving his lips with ever brutal thrust, the way he was going you were going to cum again.
You could feel him twitching inside you as your cunt clenched around him, he was close and so were you for the third time at that night.
A few more thrusts, and he was spilling inside you, chanting you name as he came, which triggered your own release, your velvet walls clenching around his thick cock milking him of over last drop of his warm, sticky come.
Gators body slumped on top of yours, you were both panting, trying to catch your breaths after the rigorous activity.
You stroked his hair and whispered more praises as he nuzzled into your neck, his breathing evened out now that he knew he had satisfied, pleased you.
"How about we go have hot shower and clean up, then snuggle down in bed" you suggested as you kissed the top of his head.
"Mmm, sounds good" he whispered in agreement as he slowly stood up, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you to the shower.
Roy may have been hard to please, but Gator was everything you had ever wanted, and you would never stop telling him that, you always make sure he knew just how much he meant to you.
"I love you baby, you mean the world to me, I'm so proud of everything you do" you whispered as you both settled into bed, his arms wrapping around your waist pulling you as close to him as possible.
"I love you too sweetheart, so so much" he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep, a small content smile on his lips.
/
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A/N: i hope you enjoyed my version of gator as a switch, i hope i did it justice.
Authors Note: Soooo I may make this into a series like I'm doing with my "positions" series and just do the polls like I have been. Thank you so much for the support everyone it means the world to me!!!
Warnings: Mentions throwing up, pregnancy, talks of sex. friends with benefits situation, swearing (my potty mouth strikes again), talks of stretch marks, talks of gaining weight and rounding out, changing body, talks of being a Stay at home mom/girlfriend, possessive Gator, no actual smut but talks of how horny he is for you, possible OOC Gator (Still haven't watch Fargo yet sadly), Giving birth, not proofread
Word Count: 1.5 k
Finding out you're pregnant: Finding out you were pregnant with Gator's baby was terrifying. Gator and you had a complicated relationship, more friends with benefits than dating. He would come over to sleep with you and then spend the night, before leaving for work early the next morning. He did care about you, just not in a normal relationship way. Finding out you were pregnant didn't happen in a normal way. You had felt sick for weeks and chalked it up to being overstressed due to work and the casual sex you and Gator had been having. After yet again puking your guts up in the work bathroom, you finally decide to buy a pregnancy test from the pharmacy. Later that night, when you got home, you took the test. While the test was processing, Gator had come by. He walked straight inside, unlocking the apartment with his spare key. He goes inside, taking his shoes and jacket off, before making his way deeper into the apartment, trying to find you. He finds you sobbing on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest and the pregnancy on the floor beside you. He sees the test and sees you and freezes, not knowing what to say or do. He never thought he would be a good dad; if anything, he thought he would be just like his father, Roy. But seeing you sobbing on the floor, clearly scared and upset, something changed in him. He knelt and took you into his arms, shushing you gently while stroking your hair. He decided right then and there that no matter if you kept the baby or not, he wanted to be with you and take care of you.
“Shhh, princess, I've got you.” He says while wiping your tears and helping you to bed.
During your pregnancy: The initial shock of the pregnancy would scare Gator shitless. I mean, he was fully on board with taking care of you and being responsible for getting you pregnant. But he was terrified that he would mess it up somehow. You would find him secretly researching the best things to eat during pregnancy or different ways he could make your life a little easier. He would randomly show up at your house with his car full of groceries or pay for you to go get your nails done. He just wanted you to know that you could rely on him. He also decided that he wanted to officially make you his girlfriend. He thought it would be easier to explain that he got his girlfriend pregnant rather than his sneaky link to the town and his father. As your pregnancy progresses, he tries to get you to quit your job and fully become his little housewife.
“Come on, baby, it’ll be good for you and the lil’ one.” He would argue with you
He did, however, enjoy the way your body rounded out as the months passed. He liked how full your tits were and how the small stretch marks had appeared on your hips and ass. He loved to lay his hands on your bump and rub the spot where his baby was growing inside of you. He liked being able to show you off around town, knowing that his baby was clearly inside of you and that he put them there. Being able to claim you around other men made him even more horny for you and your changing body. You would wake up in the middle of the night and catch him putting together baby furniture or researching different types of baby toys and carriers. He was secretly very excited to have a baby with you and couldn't wait for his mini me to be safe and sound in their daddy's arms.
The Birth: Your water broke around 4 in the morning. Gator had been fast asleep with you against his chest before he felt you moving and shaking him awake. He quickly shot out of bed and started to pull on his clothes. He didn't even bother to slick back his hair or grab his vape as he was more focused on grabbing the hospital bags and making sure you were ok. He quickly gets you in the car, almost forgetting to grab the car seat before he climbs in his car and drives as quickly as possible to the hospital. When you get to the hospital, you and Gator wait around for a bit and then finally get put into a room. They tell you to change into a hospital gown, which you do with Gator's help, before lying in the bed and having your IVs attached. Around 6 CM dilated, you decide you want the epidural, so Gator holds your hand and tells you to breathe while they give it to you. After a few hours, you were finally ready to start pushing. Gator stood beside you, holding your hands and talking you through it.
“You're doing so fucking good, baby, holy shit, you're amazing!” He would push your sweaty hair back and let you squeeze his hand so hard he thought you would put him in another cast.
Finally, after what felt like hours, you gave one last final push and then heard the sounds of a baby wailing. Relief flooded Gator and you as you watched them place the baby on your chest, and you and Gator finally got to see your baby. Gator immediately started crying when he saw the baby. He was just in shock and awe at how he could help create something so innocent and special. After he had cut the cord, he watched as you held the baby in your arms. He hesitantly reached out and struck the baby's soft skin. When they took the baby to be cleaned, measured, and weighed, he followed them, not leaving his baby behind with these nurses. When they finally finished, he gladly brought the baby back to you and cuddled up beside you in the bed to cuddle with his little family.
Newborn stage: When you bring the baby home from the hospital, he is very anxious. He lets you rest in bed for a few days after giving birth, making sure you stay still and not letting you lift anything. He gets up to make bottles in the middle of the night when he just wants you to sleep. He picks up the baby and carries them around on his bare chest because he read that skin to skin is good for newborns. He carries the baby to the kitchen and then starts to make the bottle one-handed, trying his best to soothe the fussy baby. He bounces lightly on his feet and hums gently. His hair hadn't been combed in days, and he was only wearing boxers. After he feeds and burps the baby, he soothes them back to sleep and lays them down in their bassinet beside the bed. He crawls back in beside you, trying not to wake you up.
“Mmmmm gator..” You mumble half asleep
“Yeah, princess?” He asks gently, kissing your forehead.
“You're such a good daddy…” You say before falling back asleep. Not knowing that that was all he really needed to hear.
During the day, he stays home with you, taking care of both you and the baby. He luckily gets to have a few weeks off from work, as his dad agreed that he should help take care of his grandson. He gets to lie in bed with you and the baby and cuddle while watching tv. He makes simple meals that you enjoy and gives you vitamins to try and help you get your strength back. He also tries to make you relax by washing your hair in the bathtub or giving you foot massages whenever you ask him. He enjoys watching the baby open their eyes or simply yawn; it all fascinates him. He loves being able to kiss his baby on the forehead and walk around the house with them cradled against his chest. The baby is genuinely so interesting to him. He loves to read those stories even though he knows they can't really understand what he's saying. He also really enjoys watching you be a mother to his baby. He enjoys lying beside you in the bed while you breastfeed and change the baby's diaper. He lets you teach him how to change diapers, and by the second week of the baby's life, he's a pro. He also enjoys all of the cute outfits you had bought for the baby beforehand. Dressing the baby in a cute onesie and gently brushing the baby's tuft of hair. Something else that Gator was enjoying was the attention he was getting from you; you just looked at him like he was the sexiest man alive. He enjoyed walking around with the baby strapped to his chest in the baby carrier, and you watching him from the couch.
“Huh? See something you like, mama?
Thank you so much for reading <3
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Thank you so much @diviniyae for the beautiful dividers <3
tw: ANGST, physical and emotional abuse themes run heavy throughout this entire story - if this is not suitable for you please don’t read , mentions of a gun in this chapter, smut (eventually), substance use, strong language, morally grey actions, dark themes, threats, high stakes danger, violence, mentions of murder, trauma, ptsd, reader is emotionally manipulative, gator is mean but sad. slightly AU, dot/munch wont be appearing.
Tasked with stopping Roy Tillman, the corrupt sheriff of Stark County, you know the easiest way to him is through his son, Gator. Your mentor’s words echo in your mind: “Are you sure you can handle hurting this boy?” You already know the answer. Yes.
a/n: i can’t sleep so here’s part one! my first fanfic in a very long time so please be gentle. Part two is already almost double the length of this one and not done yet. Hoping to update once a week but I work a LOT so please be patient :) Thank you to anyone who even give this a chance <3
length: 4K
SERIES MASTER LIST
Case Files
Part I - The Assignment
Diane’s office smelled like stale coffee and cigarettes.
It always had. It wrapped around you, like an old, familiar blanket, making you feel comfortable and safe. Feelings that hadn’t always come easily to you.
Diane had taken you in at such a young age, but those early memories of nights spent in a locked closet while the war at home raged on outside were never far away. War was probably the wrong word for it. What your father had inflicted on your mother would better be described as a relentless assault, a slow and suffocating onslaught that poisoned everything around it. You certainly hadn’t had the privilege of feeling comfortable or safe in that house. With him.
“Hey. Focus. I can’t send you into this if I don’t think you’re ready for it,” Diane said impatiently, in that raspy voice of hers, drawing you out of your thoughts.
You took a slow breath through your nose, an apologetic smile on your face, and looked up from your notebook. Diane stood behind her desk, which was covered in papers and case files, resting her hands on it. Her salt and pepper hair swept up in a bun, with loose strands falling in front. She looked at you over the rim of her silver wire-frame glasses with a stern expression as she butted out her cigarette into the glass ashtray on her desk.
Diane had always been stern. A woman of few words who didn’t take shit from anybody. She’d spent years trying to hammer that same attitude into you.
Reaching forward, Diane slid the letter towards you. It had come in the mail a month ago and had started you both on this journey to take him down.
Roy Tillman.
The letter was anonymous, but it hadn’t taken long to figure out who it referred to. There was only one man that could be considered ‘the power in Stark County’.
The handwriting was shaky, and the ink had run in spots where tears had clearly fallen onto the page.
You could recite the letter off the top of your head; the number of times you had read it and re-read it in preparation.
Diane,
I was told you could help me. I have no other way out.
I am sorry, but I cannot risk putting my name on anything. If this letter is found, it will be the end for me.
I live in Lehigh, Stark County, and my husband is an important man. His word is truth, and anything else is blasphemy.
He holds the power of our Lord in the palm of his hands.
I went to a support group two counties over where I heard your name, I am risking everything by doing this.
Things are getting worse. Please help.
I know it is a lot to ask of a stranger when I’m not able to give you much information, but if you are willing to help me, please send a letter to Mercer General Store. They sometimes hold mail… I will find a way to collect it.
Please. I was told you could help me. I have no other way out.
I am sorry, but I cannot risk putting my name on anything. If this letter is found, it will be the end for me.
I live in Lehigh, Stark County, and my husband is an important man. His word is truth, and anything else is blasphemy.
He holds the power of our Lord in the palm of his hands.
I went to a support group two counties over where I heard your name, I am risking everything by doing this.
Things are getting worse. Please help.
I know it is a lot to ask of a stranger when I’m not able to give you much information, but if you are willing to help me, please send a letter to Mercer General Store. They sometimes hold mail… I will find a way to collect it.
Please.
It was not the first time Diane had helped in situations like this. A lot of women went to her personally for an escape route, knowing she employed some less than legal means to get them out and into a new life. But this is the first time she had agreed to let you get directly involved. You had always provided support, but Diane mostly kept you confined to the desk, doing research on the targets.
Fear, control, and isolation… Diane had taught you to recognise the warning signs, but this letter wasn’t a sign. It was a woman crying out for her life. You had begged her to let you help with this one. You wanted to prove yourself to her and show her that you weren’t the little girl cowering in the closet anymore.
You could face the monsters now.
You hadn’t sent a response, Diane wasn’t willing to risk the woman’s safety. Instead opting for intense research and planning for infiltrating the town and Roy Tillman’s life.
“So?” Diane asked expectantly.
“So?” you parroted, although you knew what she was going to ask.
“Have you decided how you will get to him?”
“Yes…” You said uncertainly. There had been many discussions over how best to get close to Roy Tillman. During the research phase, it had become clear that this was a pattern of behaviour for him and would not be solved by simply extracting his wife, whose name you had found was Karen. Roy would likely start the same cycle over again with a new woman.
No. He had to be stopped.
You were to work on gathering evidence, enough evidence to see him locked away for a very long time.
“I think getting a job at the station would be too risky. I would constantly be under his nose, and it will make it hard to get anything done” You paused, choosing your words carefully, a distinct need to impress Diane with your level of forethought “I need to be close enough that being around isn’t suspicious but not under constant supervision either”.
Diane pursed her lips, stood up straight, and crossed her arms. “So… the son, is it?”
“Gator.” You nodded, pushing down the urge to roll your eyes. What a ridiculous name. You had been shocked to discover it actually was his name and not just a silly nickname.
Diane sighed. “Are you sure about this? From what we’ve seen, he is completely unpredictable and…” she hesitated as though reluctant to go there “and going through the son is… cruel.”
You snorted at that, “Since when has that ever bothered you? The assignment is more important than people’s feelings; you have always said that.”
“It has never bothered me. But you are soft-hearted, girl. Now people like him don’t break easily, but are you sure you can handle hurting this boy if you have to?”
The way she said ‘soft-hearted’ irked you. You always tried to be what she wanted you to be. Diane loved you, that you knew for a certainty, but… you couldn’t help but think she felt sorry for you when she said things like that.
“As far as I can see, the apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree with this one. Hurting him won’t be a problem.”
The plan was set in motion. You worked with Diane’s contact Henry, a white-hat hacker whose mother she had helped 12 years ago, to craft an identity that would, hopefully, hold up against a background check if Roy or Gator wanted to dig deeper. You doubted Henrys employers would approve of this use of resources but he shared the same personal goal as you and Diane. To help as many people as possible.
You would keep your first name but go under a false surname. The last thing you needed was to forget to respond to your own name if you didn’t realise people were speaking to you. And this was your first real assignment. You were not going to fuck it up over something so minuscule.
The day you departed, Diane had hugged you tight and fierce. She wasn’t usually one for physical affection, and you felt the sting of tears pricking your eyes as she wrapped you up in her arms.
“I want you to be careful, girl. Keep your head on a swivel and don’t put your trust in anyone but yourself. Roy Tillman is not a good man. Men like him think God himself put that badge on his chest. And I’d wager his son is no different.” Diane held your face between her hands, brushing your hair behind your ears. “You are good at reading people. Just don’t make the mistake of caring about the wrong people.”
You nodded, your throat was tight. You had never been good at goodbyes.
“I love you, girl. Don’t forget to call me. Every Friday.” she handed you the burner phone “Sooner if something goes wrong. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to get you.”
“I love you too.”
“Now stop crying.” Diane’s tone of voice and face shifted back into her trademark stern countenance. “Remember what you’re there for.” She pushed your helmet into your hands.
You took a deep breath, swallowing the heavy feelings so they were no longer written all over your face.
And you left, headed for your new life. At least for a while.
The heat was beating down on you by the time you arrived at the trailer park. This would be your home in Stark County for the next few months.
Swinging your leg off of your beloved bike— a black 1996 Honda CB750— you pulled off your helmet, took a deep breath of the warm air and started towards the trailer.
The trailer was white, paint chipping, with faded brown and yellow stripes around the midsection. The rust that bordered the edges showed its age. You had to shift your weight into the door to push it open.
Diane had bought it second-hand, and while you might have preferred something a little less run-down, it wouldn’t be believable for your cover as a nomad turned part-time bartender to waltz into town having purchased anything more than that.
Diane hadn’t allowed you to bring anything, other than your bike, your first name and… your handgun.
Just in case.
‘Your cover is only as strong as your belief in it,’ she would always say. If you carried in too much baggage from your real life, you would never be able to believe the lie you were living.
The first thing you did was crack open the windows to air out the damp, musty smell that had built up while it had been unoccupied, before unpacking.
You took the time to look over the profiles you and Diane had compiled for Roy and Gator.
Roy Tillman’s smiling face was staring back at you from the file. His sheriff’s uniform was neatly pressed, the badge shining on his chest. Smiling. Smiling. Rage grew inside you, but knew you had to keep a handle on it. Stay above it.
Beneath, you could see Gator’s photograph. In stark contrast to his father, he was frowning. Something deeply unhappy in his eyes.
He was typically handsome. Dark eyes, broad shoulders and a sharp jawline. That would make things easier. Easier to pretend if you weren’t completely repulsed by him in the physical sense. Not that it mattered. A feeling of dogged determination spread through you as you forced yourself to look away from his photograph.
The only thing that mattered was stopping Roy. Saving Karen and ending this cycle of violence before anyone else got pulled into Roys web.
You tidied everything away, taking extra care to hide anything that would give away your true intentions if anyone were to come snooping.
Pulling on your black jeans, white t-shirt, and leather bike jacket, you headed out for your first bar shift.
The fires of rage inside dimmed but still burning embers within. He would be there tonight. It was time to make your first move.
Joanie, who you had only spoken to on the phone a couple of times, met you outside the bar. She was shorter than you had pictured, around your age if you had to guess, and her brassy hair shone in the afternoon sun.
She waved and said your name like a question. You nodded, unable to stop yourself from smiling back at her as she beamed at you.
“It’s so nice to meet you. It’s almost opening, so why don’t you follow me, and I’ll give you the grand tour?”
Before you had time to respond, she linked her arm through yours and started guiding you. The bar was old dark wood, with creaky steps leading up to a pair of double doors that swung open easily with a light push. As soon as you entered the smell of old leather and cheap beer filled your nose.
The bar was on the smaller side but packed with as many tables as they could fit. Blue and red neon signs, advertising different beers lit the room in a dreamy glow. Five brown stools, leather cushions worse for wear, lined the bar. Everything was sort of old but looked well loved and gave you that same sense of warmth you felt from Diane’s office.
“On Friday nights, we have a karaoke night, which is really just Petey, you’ll get to know him soon enough, monopolising the mic all night to sing Lynyrd Skynyrd’s entire discography. We don’t have a stage, but we clear space in that corner over there,” she pointed to the far corner, which was currently littered with tables and chairs.
You laughed through your nose. “Is he any good?”
“Oh heavens, not even a little,” Joanie laughed.
She led you past the bar into the back and pointed to where you could hang up your coat.
“We don’t often get new folks coming through here. What brings you to Lehigh?”
You smiled politely; you had prepared for this question and knew it would likely be one you get asked a lot.
“I’m originally from Chicago but prefer to stay on the move… I’ve been road tripping on my bike for about a year now and could do with staying put for a little while, saving some money for the next leg of my journey.” you let out a laugh, acting a little shy “I saw a trailer for sale and didn’t much care where I ended up as long as I had a place to sleep and a job to keep me going”.
It almost surprises you how easily the lie leaves your mouth. But it shouldn’t; you’ve been preparing for this for weeks.
Joanie's eyes lit up. “I am seething with jealousy right now. Ugh! What I’d give to get out of this town”
Contrary to her statement, she was still beaming. In fact, she hadn’t stopped since you arrived, and you weren’t sure if she were just a particularly happy person or if you had just been with Diane so long you forgot that not everyone was like her.
Time passed easily with Joanie as you prepared to open the bar together, wiping down sticky surfaces and pulling chairs down from tables as you chatted away easily. Or rather, Joanie chatted, and you occasionally offered your two cents. You knew it wouldn’t be this easy with everyone; Joanie was warm and friendly, but you were certain to come up against people who treated you with more suspicion.
As patrons began to slowly file in, you noticed, as you began serving drinks, that Joanie knew the names of every single person and was usually shouting their name in greeting before they had even stepped over the threshold. Light ribbing and familiar jokes passed between everyone.
You couldn’t help feeling somewhat out of place and maybe even a little lonely. You felt a pang in your chest as Diane’s face came to mind. This assignment would be the longest you had ever been apart from her, and you were only now realising, watching Joanie, how difficult that may be.
Later, daylight had long since passed. People had come and gone, and what was left now were a few lone drinkers, a couple sat talking in the corner with their heads close together, and a particularly rowdy group of men of varying ages downing pints of beer and shouting at the football game on the TV.
And exactly on time, 9:35 p.m., the door swung open so hard it hit the stopper on the wall. Conversation in the bar dimmed for half a second. Not total silence, just a shift in the air. A ripple moving through the room before settling in again.
The slow, deliberate tread of heavy black combat boots cut through the noise of the bar, and a shiver went down your spine as you felt your entire body tense up for a second.
It felt like all the loving warmth you had felt when first entering the bar had been sucked out of the room.
Did he really have this strong an effect on people?
You knew he would arrive on time. Diane had spent weeks staking out the Tillmans routines but nothing could have prepared you for what it felt like to be here now.
You wiped down the bar, took a deep breath, and unwound your shoulders.
It’s time.
Joanie groaned under her breath and turned away from the bar like she suddenly had something very important to do.
“Sheriff’s boy. Gator.” she said, as if that were explanation enough.
“Not a fan?” You asked, but before she could answer there was a loud scraping sound of a bar stool being dragged out and you looked to see Gator saddling up right in front of you.
Perfect. Right where you needed him.
“The usual, Joanie” he demanded sounding a little harsh but with a slow, patronising, smile on his face. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. Almost imperceptibly, he tapped his fingers on the bar. Once. Twice. As if testing the wood.
Joanie huffed, without looking back at him, before rolling her eyes and getting him a beer from the fridge below the shelves.
Even if you hadn’t memorised his face from the photograph in his file, you would know without a shadow of a doubt that this was him. Your target, the key to getting to Roy.
His hair was tightly slicked back, not a hair out of place even at this time of night. You scanned lower, down to his face only to see the deep brown of his eyes looking back into yours, his gaze moved over you slowly, deliberately—like he had all the time in the world.
He took a slow sip of his beer, his throat bobbing.
You felt a thrill run through you and your pulse jumped. Something tight coiled low in your stomach. What was that? Just nerves, you told yourself.
“Who’s this?” He asked, the question clearly pointed towards Joanie but still staring at you. He was speaking as if you weren’t there. Your teeth clenched.
Less than six words in your presence and already the arrogance showed. The entitlement rolling off of him in waves. Like the world owed him something. You felt a calm come over you and you heard Diane’s voice ‘Remember what you’re there for’.
And you did.
Roy Tillman.
Karen.
Before Joanie could respond, you interrupted calm and confident, telling him your name.
“And who are you?” you asked.
He smirked continuing to hold your gaze, almost inspecting you. You were studying him just as closely.
Turning to Joanie, there’s a warning edge to his voice “Do you need something or what?”.
You can see Joanie’s anger behind her eyes, a sharp turn from the bubbly woman you had been working alongside all night. “I’m going for a smoke, holler if you need anything” she said, holding your gaze for a second too long.
The meaning behind her words was clear ‘holler if you need to get away from him’. Interesting, you would need to dig a bit more and find out where the disdain is coming from.
“You’re not from around here?”
“That obvious?” you laughed
He ignores your question, digging further, “Where’re you from?”
“Is this an interrogation Officer?” you asked playfully, almost flirting, you couldn’t help but feel he was trying to assert his authority over you. He wanted you to back down, needed to be in control of this interaction and you couldn’t let him.
Diane always said, start how you intend to go on. And you intended to stay in control, no matter what.
“That your bike out there?”
You hummed, nodding in affirmation, “It is, she’s my pride and joy”
He appraised you again, up and down, even slower than he had before.
“So you know how to ride?”
You bristled, the innuendo not getting past you. He couldn’t be serious.
Just as you opened your mouth, instinct to chew him out overriding your desire to keep a cool head, one of the guys from the loud table made his way up to the bar shouting, “How’s it going, Sheriff Junior?” He clapped Gator on the back with a firm hand. Gator’s jaw clenched at the nickname, but his gaze held steady, it was almost predatory.
The moment stretched on for what felt like a lifetime. Neither of you looking away. You just hoped he mistook your interest for attraction. No, what it really was. Calculated observation.
“Beer me,” The man threw in your direction. Beside him, Gator’s body went stiff. His mouth twitched.
You smiled politely, actually relieved that he had saved you from yourself, despite his rudeness. You grabbed a pint glass to start pouring his drink.
A large hand reached over, covering your own, and pushed the glass you were holding down forcing you to place it back on the bar.
“That’s how you talk to a lady now, Jake?” Gator’s head only slightly angled towards him. Eyes steady on you. The hypocrisy wasn’t lost on you, wasn’t this the guy who two seconds ago was asking about your ability to ride?
Jake, drunk and swaying slightly where he stood, “Relax, man, we’re all friends here.”
“That’s true?” Gator asked, speaking to you, in a tone that was somewhere between teasing and flirting. “Are we friends?” the corner of his mouth raising into a cocky grin.
“We certainly could be,” you said, voice tight, trying to swallow your nerves. You could feel the hairs on your arm standing on edge. You knew this feeling. You hadn’t felt it in a long time. It felt like at any moment someone could say the wrong thing, and the fuse would be lit.
Jake snorted and slurred, “Yeah, so just relax, Gator…ade.” You cringed; that was entirely the wrong thing.
Gator’s fingers tapped the bar.
Once.
Twice.
And then his stool was pushed back so fast it toppled to the floor.
Gator grabbed him, one hand on the back of his head, the other on his shoulder. The bar went quiet, music still playing, but everyone was looking towards the disturbance. In your peripheral you could see Joanie’s head arching around the corner of the front door to see what was happening inside. Both of you with the same expression, eyes wide, mouths set in a tense line.
Gator slammed Jakes head down onto the bar. The edge of the counter forced into his mouth, between his teeth.
Jake’s “Hey, what the fuck, man!” was swallowed up by the edge of the bar, restricting his ability to speak.
You could almost feel it in your own mouth as the sound of the wood scraping his teeth went through you.
Gator’s hands were tight, holding him down. You noticed the veins in his forearms as he used all his strength to keep Jake in place. You looked to his face. Calm, breathing steadily. He looked at you, grinning, and winked.
“I am plenty relaxed. But I think you need to apologise,” he spoke in a low tone, pushing Jacob’s head impossibly closer to the bar, never breaking eye contact with you. The bar pressed right up to the corners of Jakes mouth as he huffed out a panicked breath trying desperately to breathe. “Now.”
All you can hear is him gargling, trying to get the words out around the bar, spit pooling on the surface.
Gator snorted, laughing derisively at him, and you can see… he enjoys this. “Better”.
Gator’s hands finally loosened, and he let Jake stumble away from the bar, wiping spit from his mouth. He looked to his friends, who hadn’t dared intervene on his behalf, before shaking his head, spitting on the ground, and leaving the bar.
Gator wasn’t looking at him. He was still looking at you. Only now he was searching your face… trying to see if you were impressed. It reminded you of that look dogs get on their faces after doing a trick, waiting to be praised by their masters.
You weren’t ready to acknowledge how your heart tugged at the thought.
I was slowly packing my bag when there was a soft knock on the door. Before I could tell them to enter, the door opened. I turned around and instantly smiled when I saw Gator peeking his head in.
"Hey, you," I chuckled.
He walked in and instantly took me in his arms. I smiled as he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was a lot shorter than I'd have liked.
"Hey, gorgeous," he whispered as he broke the kiss. "You ready to get out of here?"
"Hell yeah," I smirked. I stepped out of his embrace and grabbed my overnight bag. I let out a half-giggle, half-sigh when Gator instantly reached over and took my bag.
"Don't even try arguing with me," he chuckled. I just laughed as he grabbed my hand and led me out of the hospital room. When we got to the elevator, Gator pulled me inside. After the doors closed, he turned toward me and stepped closer to me.
"Things are going to be different," he whispered. "I promise, Y/N. No more sneaking around. No more covering up. No more lying."
"But what about. . ." I started to ask.
"I don't care what everyone at the precinct says," he cut me off. "I don't care what my father says. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to keep us apart."
Before I could say anything, Gator leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. I threw my arms around him and kissed him back. We didn't break apart until the elevator doors opened. He instantly grabbed my hand and led me through the lobby. I didn't say anything as we walked to his car.
We got in and he instantly started driving. It took me a few streets before I realized he was taking me to my house. He parked in my driveway and escorted me inside. We settled in for the night. I took a shower to wash the hospital off of me while Gator made us something to eat.
While I was in the shower, I couldn't help but think about me and Gator. Our whole relationship has been a secret and I wasn't entirely sure what to expect now that it was out in the open. Even though we snuck around, whenever we were alone Gator acted like an actual boyfriend. He was sweet and caring and supportive and perfect. I really hoped that that version of Gator would start coming out more.
I walked downstairs in shorts and one of Gator's graphic t-shirts that he left at my place. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Gator making sandwiches. He turned around and instantly froze when he saw me.
"Damn," he said under his breath. "Why the hell did I hide you?"
"I don't know," I said faking innocence. "Maybe you didn't want someone else to steal me?"
Gator walked over, closing the gap between us. When he got to me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.
"That's for sure," he said under his breath. I giggled as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. Our lips instantly started moving in sync as things slowly started getting more heated.
Gator picked me up and carried me to the couch. He sat down and put me on his lap. Without breaking the kiss, Gator laid us down with him hovering over me. We were just about to start removing our clothes but his phone started going off.
"Sorry," he sighed. He gently sat us up and sat me next to him. He kissed me before jumping up and answering his phone.
I stayed on the couch as Gator talked to whoever had called him. When he returned, he was carrying two plates with the sandwiches he was making earlier.
"Thanks," I smiled as he handed me one of them. "Who was that?"
"My dad," he explained as he sat next to me. "He wanted to make sure we had gotten to your place safely. He's sending a patrol car."
"Wait, what?" I stuttered. "Why would he do that?" He looked at me, the look in his eyes softening.
"I'm going to have a police car right outside."
"For how long?" I stuttered through my confusion.
"The next couple of days," he shrugged. "Maybe two weeks."
"Gator," I sighed. "That's a waste of police resources."
"I don't care," he snapped. He sighed and softened his voice. "I'm sorry, baby. I can't let anything else happen to you so I will do whatever it takes to prevent that. As long as it works and you're safe, I don't care about the resources, the money, or the effort."
Without looking at me, Gator reached over and took my hand. It felt like someone squeezed my heart as he intertwined our fingers. "I can't lose you, baby," he said, his voice soft.
"You won't," I said, softer than I had intended. He finally looked up at me and it almost looked like he had tears in his eyes.
"I'm going to make sure I don't."
* * * * *
Over the next couple of days, Gator has insisted on staying at my place. He was forced to go to work the day after he brought me home, but he constantly checked on me. He called me as soon as he got to the station. He called me before he went on his rounds. He called me on his way to my place for lunch. He called me the minute he got back to work after lunch. He called me before he left for the night.
While he was gone, I kept my doors locked and tried to keep myself as busy as I could. I cleaned my house from top to bottom. I organized and reorganized every room. It got to the point where I was completely stir-crazy. Tired of sitting around and doing nothing, I grabbed my purse and keys.
The second I walked outside, the cop who was sitting in the car out front ran up to me.
"Umm, Ms. Y/L/N?" He said, nerves clear in his throat. "Where. . . Where are you going? Deputy Tillman doesn't want you leaving. . . Alone. He doesn't want you. . ."
"I just need to get out of my house for a little while," I said to try and calm the nervous officer.
"I'm really not supposed. . ."
"I'll be fine," I tried to calm him again. "I'm going to the precinct anyway."
I didn't give him a chance to refuse or demand that he take me. I got in my car and, just like I promised, headed to the precinct. When I walked in, I got nothing but stares. Nobody said anything as I walked toward Gator's office. I stood in the doorway and watched as he searched through a file.
He looked up and froze when he saw me. He dropped the file, jumped to his feet, and ran over to me. I smiled when he wrapped his arms around me, picking me up off of my feet.
"Gator," I giggled. He put me down and I could tell he wasn't happy with me. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but I wasn't fast enough.
"What are you doing here?! You're supposed to be at home. Safe. With a police officer outside. Is he not there? How did you walk right past him and he didn't notice you? What the hell was he doing instead of watching your house? I swear, I'm gonna. . ."
I cut him off by grabbing his face. I didn't say anything at first. Instead, I leaned in and gently pressed my lips to his. I felt him sigh before he started to kiss me back. We broke the kiss, both of us out of breath and with naughty smirks on our faces.
"I thought we had a deal not to make out at work," Gator said, his voice suddenly deep and rough. I loved it when he used this tone.
"Sorry," I whispered innocently. "You were getting all fiery. The only thing I can do to extinguish that fire is to kiss you."
"All that does," he said somehow deeper, "is make me even more frustrated."
"Oops."
"Naughty girl," he laughed. His eyes suddenly softened. He reached up and gently dragged his finger against what was left of the bruise on my face.
"Gator," I started.
"I can't leave you," he said under his breath. "Ever again."
"But Gator. . ."
"This is real now," he said, his tone of voice changing again. "You and me. We're real. Which means it's my job to protect you. Especially from the no-good druggies in this town."
"Baby," I whispered. "You already found the guy responsible for hurting me. You've done a great job of protecting me."
"I love you, Y/N."
I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him in for a hug. "I love you too, Gator," I whispered.
He cleared his throat, pulled out of the hug, and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you wouldn't come back for another couple of weeks."
"I know," I sighed. "But I am going crazy at home, baby. I've cleaned my house from top to bottom several times. I've reorganized everything. Please let me come back to work."
"But. . ."
"I'll be safe here," I said quickly. "Cops, all with guns, will be around me from the minute I get to work to the minute I go home. Honestly, Gator, this is probably the safest place for me. Plus, I get to see you a lot more."
Gator studied me. He then looked around the station, clearly overthinking this. I grabbed his hand, making him look back at me.
"I will be perfectly safe here, Gator," I whispered. "Because you're here."
* * * * *
After a lot more negotiating, Gator finally agreed to allow me to come back to work. There were, of course, specific rules we both had to follow if I was going to come back.
He would drive me to and from work every day.
I wouldn't go out for lunch unless he was with me.
He'd check in on me constantly.
I was to answer whenever he called.
The rule he put the most emphasis on was that if I ever felt unsafe or uncomfortable by someone who was arrested, I was to let him know. If I was ever nervous, he'd rush the process to make sure the guy was as far away from the front desk as possible as soon as possible.
After we went to lunch, I went back home while Gator finished his shift. That night, Gator came over and brought dinner. As we ate, he went through the rules to calm him down more than reassure me.
"Gator," I interrupted his third run-through of our normal day-to-day caseload. "I'll be fine. I've worked at the station for a year and a half. I'm well aware of the dangers of a police precinct."
"I know but. . ."
"Baby," I sighed, "now that we're no longer hiding, people know that you'll protect me. What that guy did. . . Hurting me to get to you. . . It was stupid. I doubt someone will be that stupid again."
Gator looked up at me, studying me before finally sighing. He reached over and grabbed my hand. I smiled softly as he intertwined our fingers.
"I never should have let him get close to you," he whispered. He paused before adding, "And I never should've made you think I didn't want people to know about you. The only reason I wanted to keep us a secret was because I was afraid of what people would say about us."
"Gator," I tried to interrupt him but he shook his head.
"You're too good for me," he continued. "You're too good for the station. You should be working somewhere safe."
"Will you protect me?" I asked, clearly surprising Gator.
"Of course," he said quickly. "I'll always protect you, baby."
"Then I have no reason to be scared."
He sent me a playful glare before quickly breaking. Without another word, Gator got up from the table and grabbed my hand. I let him help me to my feet. He pulled me close and wrapped his arms around my waist. Without breaking our eye contact, I dragged my hands up his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck.
"You are absolutely right," he whispered. "You, my darling Y/N, have nothing to be scared of. Not as long as I'm here."
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18+ only!! mdni!! warning: reader is briefly knocked unconscious in the fic! not by Gator but by an anonymous male who is never named/identified. mentions of bad childhood/abusive parents. mentions of police brutality. mentions of smut. being in a hospital/back of an ambulance. Gator and Roy are threatening in this and mean about reader. Angst!!! lil bit of fluff! more angst?? Unhappy ending (no character deaths tho do not worry)
I’m sorry :/
Part of the two sinners works! Read more here!
Gator Tillman had no choice but to become a Sheriff, he idolised his Father and saw the respect that surrounded him. No one ever questions Roy Tillman; at least, not if they value their own life. Gator had witnessed firsthand the brutality that his father inflicted on his community when wearing the badge. One of Gator’s happiest childhood memories was his daddy letting him wear his cowboy hat and his Sheriff’s badge. Roy Tillman’s eyes were full of pride as he looked as his young son, “you’ll make a fantastic Sheriff one day, boy”. Any other dreams that young Gator were quashed in that moment, ever since that day when his Father looked at him and saw the potential Gator could grow up to have- he knew he had to be a Sheriff.
Unfortunately, Gator Tillman never wanted to be a good Sheriff. He didn’t actually care about helping people or being a beacon of hope for his community. Gator, like his Father, loved the power that came with the badge. Without it, he was some loser daddy’s boy but with it; he felt he was unstoppable. As much as Roy Tillman ignored his son, he knew him too well and he knew what little ability Gator actually had. So, Gator was always on the quietest shifts and he was always paired with an older colleague who could actually do the job. In his father’s eyes; Gator was still a little kid playing dress up. So here he is, browsing the disposable vape collection in his local gas station to fill the time until he can clock out. The clerk looks away and Gator slips a watermelon mango flavour into his pocket. He throws a few dollars on the counter and takes a bag of Takis before heading back to the patrol car. Maybe he can convince his patrol partner to drive him to a diner to get a coffee to kill a few more hours or maybe he’ll have an uncomfortable nap across the back seat.
Then a call comes in.
“Dispatch, please respond. We have a call for assistance at The Outpost Bar about 4 minutes from your current location. Seems that an altercation between two men has escalated and a young lady has got hurt, ambulance is nearly there as she’s knocked out”.
Gator picks up the radio as his colleague starts speeding to the bar, “Heard- name of victim?”.
Bile rises in his throat and he feels his stomach drop.
It’s your name.
Before he can even process what has happened; the patrol car arrives on the scene and sees the ambulance outside the front of the bar.
He knows his job is to find the guy who’s done this and get him in the back of the car. He knows the ambulance and the paramedics are there to help you. But he also knows that you’re currently unconscious on the floor of a shitty dive bar and that’s all he can focus on. His heart is thundering in his ears as he runs into the bar, his colleague is shouting his name after him to try and discuss a plan before entering the bar. He needs to see you, what if the call was wrong? You never mentioned that you’d be heading out tonight. You never really tell him anywhere you’re going though. He wishes you would but he can’t think about that now.
The inside of the bar is nearly empty, the lights are up and there’s a group of women stood around someone lying on the floor. The shoes he can see are a pair of black boots- has he ever seen you wear those? Would you wear something like that? The thought in his head are moving too quick for him to comprehend. He tries to make his way over to the huddle of women on the floor but he sees a familiar face first. It’s Jenson Ackerley, the guy you brought to the church pot luck, the guy that you’d told Gator you never planned on seeing again after blowing him off for him. Gator had seen a few texts from Jenson pop up on your phone but you were seemingly quick to ignore them. He’s stood at the bar, he’s holding his head in his hands and looks relieved when he sees law enforcement come in.
“Thank god you’re here, they fuckin’ ran off after they shoved her. She hit her head and then they fuckin’ ran off. She’s breathin’ fine so sh-“ he sounds relieved as he speaks, the words tumbling out of his mouth as if he’s a concerned partner. You’re not his partner, Gator isn’t either but he’s closer to it than this fucking guy. A rage flushes across his face as Gator grabs Jenson’s plaid shirt in his fists and pushes him against the concrete wall of the bar. He spits at Jenson’s feet before speaking to him, “What the fuck happened? Why the fuck didn’t you step in? Some fuckin’ quarterback huh?” He shoves him harder; feeling rejoice in the nerves filling Jenson’s eyes "Lettin’ her get hit while you just fuckin’ stand there holdin’ your fuckin' dick?”. Jenson’s face contorts in confusion, he tries to respond before Gator punches him hard in his lower stomach. He grabs Jenson’s cheeks and pushes his head further into the cold, hard concrete of the wall as he whispers low in his ear “I fuckin’ swear on my fuckin’ Dad’s life- if something happens to her, I’ll fuckin’ kill you”. The hard grip of his hand gets tighter on Jenson’s face, Jenson’s face would be flushing red if it were not for the fact that all blood seems to have drained from his face with nerves. Gator’s smirk is predatory, “‘m a fuckin’ Sheriff y’know- I can make it look like an accident”.
He can hear your voice, it’s mumbled and strained- but it is distinctly you.
Gator turns that quick he feels a bout of nausea hit him, it’s doubled when he sees you being moved out of the dingy bar on a stretcher. You look confused but a flash of recognition and reassurance flutters through your expression when you realise it’s him.
“Gator?” Your voice is slow as if your wading through thick molasses to whisper his two syllable name. He grabs your hand, it’s ice cold and he knows that it’s the shock your poor body has been through this evening. Your hand meekly trembles in his and it occurs to Gator that he’s never seen you as vulnerable as this.
“Yeah-yeah it’s me, hi” His voice is the softest it’s ever been with you as he tenderly presses a hand to your face. This isn’t the same man who two days ago called you a whore as you rode his cock in his Daddy’s bed and this certainly isn’t the man who’s last text simply told you to fuck off and leave him alone. This isn’t your Gator. But right now, this isn’t you. When you look back, you both won’t recognise the other in this moment.
But fiercely, you’ll both take the tenderness right now. You both desperately need it.
Gator will come to always crave it.
***
He insisted to his colleague that he’d go with you in the ambulance. The paramedic was too preoccupied with checking your vitals to notice that Gator held your hand the entire way. When tears filled your eyes due to pure confusion about your current situation, he’d press a soft kiss to your under eyes and mumble to you that it was going to be okay. He wasn’t leaving your side until it was all okay- he promised.
“I swear on it, okay baby. Me and you” he brings your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to it. Tenderly, he moves your hair out of your face as you nod in agreement. You wanted to believe him with every ounce of your body and soul but your mouth is too dry to beg him to stay; you’re not sure if you’re asking for tonight or for forever.
Gator’s watching you intently, he’s memorising the different parts of your face- just in case. Of course nothing’s going to happen to you, he’s sure of it. But just in case, he’s logging to his memory the soft curve of your lips, always a little pouty and so fucking pretty when you wear that lip gloss that drives him wild. The little furrow in your brow, always more prominent when you’re worried or plotting how you can try and fuck up Gator’s week by saying something calculating.
Your eyes flicker shut as the paramedic rests a hand on Gator’s shoulder, “you’re a good boyfriend. Half the guys don’t even want to come in the back and the others usually try to calm themselves rather than their partners. You’re a good man”. The irony isn’t missed on him, he is someone’s boyfriend but he’s not yours. His girlfriend has never received this tenderness from him. Gator Tillman is a lot of things but he is definitely not a good man. In this moment, however, he is trying to be.
He doesn’t thank the paramedic, he just nods and keeps your small hand in his. He doesn’t want his mind to wander and consider how things would be if you were in a relationship. You’d drive him mad, he’s sure of it but with Glenda; he feels nothing. He considers that at least anger is an emotion. Better than an emotionally vacant relationship.
The ambulance comes to a sudden stop and he feels your hand grip his tighter, your eyes are open and as the paramedic works to open the door; Gator is reassuring you that everything’s going to be okay.
“Promise that you’ll stay?” your voice is hesitant and soft. You feel emotionally exposed right now and it’s a deeply uncomfortable feeling.
Gator presses a kiss to your forward quickly, conscious of the paramedic trying to get your stretcher out of the vehicle and onto a ward. “Of course baby, as soon as they find you a room- I’ll be there. Okay? I swear it”. You begin to cry as you nod and Gator desperately wants to kiss you more to console you but you’re wheeled out before he gets the chance.
Your hands are pulled apart as your stretcher gets wheeled into the hospital. He’s lost in his thoughts until a familiar authoritative voice booms behind him.
“Gator?”
It’s his father.
Gator feels the blood drain from his body and he tries to stop his hands trembling before he turns around.
Roy’s hands are on his hips as he glares at Gator. He’s dressed in his usual cowboy hat and denim jacket. His father’s presence always makes Gator nervous. With one look from Roy Tillman, Gator is transported back to being a four year old meek child who had accidentally broken a vase, terrified of his father’s reaction but simultaneously in awe of the authoritarian berating him for his mistake. He’d seen them holding hands, Gator takes a second to thank the lord that that is all his father had seen.
His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, he can’t speak and if he could; he doesn’t even know what he would say. There’s no reason for it. Why would he be holding your hand? Why would he travel in the back of the ambulance with you? It isn’t protocol and, for all Roy knows, Gator does not like you. He isn’t even supposed to know you. His father had warned Gator about you from the first time he had seen you.
“She’s a sinner that girl- I don’t want her corrupting you. Showing you her worldly ways, you are not to speak to her- y’hear me?” What Roy didn’t know is by that time, you’d already started sleeping together. Both of you taking the time to learn each other’s bodies intimately. You made Gator feel things he never had before but that didn’t matter- you were a dirty sinner. It never crosses Gator’s mind that he could be a sinner too.
The paramedic reemerges from the hospital and before Gator can intercept, she tells him that ‘his girlfriend’ is on ward 6.
“I’ve told her that you’ll be up soon to see her. She’s still a bit upset so maybe head up after you’ve finished speaking with the Sheriff” the paramedic is kind. Her words are soft and considered and her eyes look up at Gator as if he’s a great man. He hopes that this paramedic will keep Gator in her mind as an attentive and considerate partner. She may be the only person who would ever think of Gator Tillman in that way. Roy smiles at the paramedic but it doesn’t meet his eyes; Gator realises that his smile never does.
After she leaves, there’s a moment of silence. It feels too long and uncomfortable.
***
“I don’t know what’s happenin’ with you and that girl b-“
“Dad” Gator scoffs, as if the idea is ridiculous “nothin’s happenin’. I answered the call so I was there and y’know, I’m the Sheriff- it’s my job to make sure she’s safe. Well, not ju-“
Roy takes Gator’s shirt in his fists and slams him against the wall of the hospital. The thud of Gator’s head hitting the concrete echoes across the vacant space. Roy spits in Gator’s face as he whispers sternly, “Do not fuckin’ lie to me. You’re a worse fuckin’ liar than your fuckin’ mother”.
He can’t speak, as hard as Gator’s mouth tries to form words, it lets him down and makes him look weak in front of his father. Just as he did when he was younger; Gator takes the emotional beating from his father.
“You got a good christian woman at home and I don’t think that Glenda would want to hear about you in the back of an ambulance with her- agree?”
He nods, his mind is empty as all he feels is blind panic. Will Roy tell Glenda? As soon as he loses her, he loses his father’s approval- something he’s spent years cultivating. He can’t lose her; it’s not a choice. Roy robs him of the chance to speak.
Roy’s hand is firm on Gator’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh. “What have I told you from day one about that girl, son?”. His eyes are unwavering on his son’s, Gator realises he has not seen his dad blink throughout this entire interaction.
“That she’s a sinner” it comes out too easy and Roy smirks in response. He’s made his father happy and he feels he can speak again. His chest not as tight as it felt a few moments ago.
Roy’s hand gets tighter on Gator’s shoulder and it begins to feel uncomfortable. “Tell me what you think of her” he nods to prompt Gator to speak. Gator briefly imagines if he could tell him the truth, how would he describe what he thinks of you? He’s unsure if he even allows himself to think about you when you’re apart. The thought of you living unfiltered in his mind is far too much. You need to be a box locked away in Gator’s depraved mind. There’s no key because it never needs opening.
He stutters as he goes to speak, “well…we all know what she’s like right? She’s a fuckin’ whore” Roy nods in encouragement as a shy smile breaks across Gator’s face. “Yeah, I mean, she’s probably dating about 10 different guys- right? I mean, I saw her with Jenson and then with some other fuckin’ guy like two days later. Glenda doesn’t like ‘er- thinks the same as me”.
Roy is content, his grip on his son’s shoulder eases as he smiles brightly at Gator. “We’re not gonna look for the guys that did this- didn’t happen. You were doin’ a routine check at the bar and that’s it. I’ve already told Williams that that’s what’s happened- I’ve sorted it for you, son”
Son.
That one syllable word is a warm blanket on a cold night. A ice cold glass of water in the hottest desert. A three course meal after a day of raw hunger.
Roy leads Gator away from you, he sits him in the patrol car and drives him home to Glenda. Glenda kisses his cheek softly at the doorway. She’s made a home cooked meal for her hardworking man. The meal tastes like ash on Gator’s tongue. He drinks whiskey to help him sleeps more than usual.
Meanwhile, you are laid alone in a hospital bed. Holding out hope that Gator will return, hopefully with the affection from the ambulance. But of course, Gator doesn’t come back to your room.
You don’t see him again whilst you're in the hospital.
He doesn’t text you for two weeks.
He turns up one late night when you’re back home, he asks if you’re ‘all good’ and you reply that you’ll be fine. You have sex that night and never acknowledge how tender he was to you in your time of need. You’re both rougher than usual, both craving to dominate the other and fuck them into submission. You have to make up for the unjustified kindness.
***
You never see how Gator spends his time off work. When he’s not with you, or with Glenda, or working- he’s trying to find out who did this to you.
He won’t stop searching until the person who did this is found in a ditch.
You can feel his eyes on you from across the bar. He's had you in his sights all night, bitterness growing as you ignored him. You knew exactly what you were doing, flitting around, going from your table of friends then up to the bar to order more drinks. You catch him staring at your legs, watching as he was practically salivating over how short your dress was.
As the night was nearing its end, he couldn't stand it anymore, he had to make his feelings known. He drags you out to the gravel parking lot, while you wince from his harsh grip on your arm. He leads you to his patrol car and stops next to it.
"Gator, what the fuck?" You ask, after wrenching your arm away from him.
"You really gonna act like you have no idea why I'm pissed?"
His eyes bore into yours, as you saw genuine hurt in them.
"Should I know every reason behind all your little tantrums?" You counter, unable to help yourself.
He shakes his head while rolling his eyes, trying to maintain his tough composure.
"You should really check your attitude with me, darlin'," he advises, taking a step closer to you.
"You don't scare me..."
He laughs, before trying to pin you against the fender of his car.
"But I do think you're a fucking creep..." you breathe, before trying to push him away from you, but he barely moves.
He smirks as he grabs your wrists, holding them against your chest.
"Says the slut that flaunts her body for attention," he replies pressing your body against the cool metal of his car. "You should feel lucky to have me, since there are some real creeps out there that would love to defile a pretty thing like you."
You only glare at him in response, while trying to wriggle out of his hold. He only grips you tighter, making you wince again.
"In fact, you should thank me for looking out for you," he continues, leaning in close. "Kiss me."
"No," you refuse, turning away from him.
He then releases your wrists so he could roughly grab your chin.
"I want you to put your arms around me and kiss me," he lowly commands.
Your eyes challenge his, as they now resemble the night that surrounds you.
You sigh, before slowly wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to press your lips to his.
This isn't how you wanted the night to end. You wanted to rile him up, but you didn't expect him to get so angry. Your goal was just to tease him all night, to make him so hot for you he couldn't think straight.
He eagerly kisses you back, with his hands dropping to your waist, to pull you into him.
A soft moan escapes his lips when you don't break the kiss. Truthfully, this is what you wanted too, he just had to be an ass about it.
"I can be so good to you, honey, if you'd let me..." he breathes, as his lips move to your neck. "I'd treat ya like a fuckin' queen."
"Really?" You question, already dazed.
"Yeah," he answers, his dark eyes meeting yours. "You just need to let me."
You sigh his name, before he kisses you again.
"Please?" He whispers, against your lips.
"Ok," you softly reply, with your hands now cradling his face.
He smiles. "Wanna get out of here?"
You nod.
"Good, I know just the place."
You look at him confused, as he parks outside the Tillman house.
"What are you-?"
"Relax, everyone's gone. We have the place to ourselves," he calmly explains, leaning over to kiss you.
"I still don't think this is a good idea..." you say, as your eyes stay fixed on the house.
"It'll be fine," he assures, with his lips against your cheek. "But if you don't want to, I'll take you home."
You turn to look at him and frown.
"Its not that I don't want to, I just..." Your voice trails off as he kisses you.
"I just wanna be with ya, honey. Please come inside with me," he breathes, his soft voice so sickeningly sweet.
"Alright," you sigh, as lust overrides your better judgment.
He escorts you through the quiet house, while you still feel on edge. You just felt wrong being there, though you couldn't figure out why.
After opening his bedroom door, he quickly pulls you inside. You take in your surroundings and try not to gag at certain things that adorned his walls. His arms are around you again, as he hugs you from behind. You feel his lips on your neck, as his large hands grab your hips and pull you against him.
"Feel that? That's how it's been all night, watching you in this slutty, little dress," he says, as you turn your head towards him.
"I wore it just for you," you reply, wrapping your arm around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours.
"I know you did, honey," he smiles, letting his lips brush yours. "You're such a little tease."
"Maybe I am, though despite what you think, I only want you," you reveal, before flicking your tongue across his plush upper lip.
He shivers as a whiny moan slips past his parted lips.
"Fuck, you are so hot," he breathes, before kissing you roughly.
His hands leave your hips to squeeze your breasts through your dress.
"Get undressed and lay on the bed," he then quietly instructs.
He lowers his arms so you can saunter forward. You turn to face him while slipping the sleeves of your dress off your shoulders. You then step out of your shoes, before gliding your fingertips over your chest. He actually licks his lips as his eyes hungrily travel your nearly naked body. You reach to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the floor, in front of you. You then teasingly slide your panties down and kick them to the side. You then make a show of laying on the bed, trying not to giggle as you watch his changing expressions.
He seems overwhelmed by actually having you in his room, that his brain almost short circuits. Once he reminds himself that this is really happening, he pulls his shirt over his head, leaving his white undershirt.
He then sits on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots. You then crawl towards him, draping your arms around his shoulders while you kiss his neck. He smiles as he imagines you always doing this after he would get home. It's a glimpse into a life he craves, one with affectionate domesticity that only makes him fall even more in love with you.
He turns his head to capture your lips in a surprisingly sweet kiss. You smile into it before pulling away to lay back down. He then quickly stands to unbuckle and unbutton his pants. He pushes them down his legs, just leaving him in his boxers. His eyes meet yours as he palms himself through the thin fabric.
"Now who's the tease?" You playfully ask.
"Patience, baby," he smiles, before taking off his undershirt.
You bite your lip as you watch him take off his underwear. He's bigger than you imagined and it makes you even wetter.
He crawls onto the bed and up your body, nudging your legs wider as he nestles his hips between them. His arms rest on either side of your head while you gaze up at him. He leans down to kiss you and you surprise him by deepening it. He gladly let's you lick your way into his mouth, as your tongue is now one of his favorite parts of you.
Muffled moans leave both your lips as your kisses grow in intensity. He can't help but rub himself against you, while both of you are so desperate for any kind of friction.
"Mmm, Gator..." you sigh, as he places sloppy kisses across your cheek.
"Yeah? You want it?"
You nod, as you guide his lips back to yours.
He lowers more of his body onto yours, as he shifts his weight when one hand glides down your body and slips between you.
"You're just dripping for me, baby..." he breathes, with his teeth lightly biting your bottom lip. "Bet you've been like this all night, haven't you?"
You whimper before kissing him again. He continues to tease with his fingers, before finally slipping his middle finger inside you. He only pumps it a few times, making you whine when he pulls it out and places it between his lips.
"Fuck, baby..." he sighs, " I'm gonna eat you real good later, but right now, I have to fuck you."
"Please..." you breathe, as he strokes himself a few times before easing himself inside you.
Your hands grip his shoulders as he slowly pushes all the way in. Curses and moans fall from his lips as his hips meet yours. He was almost afraid to move, as you felt so warm and tight, he could blow right there.
You whine his name, begging him to move.
"Oh, you want me real bad, don't ya?" His lips brush the shell of your ear as you sigh, frustrated.
"I've wanted you ever since I moved to this stupid, little town, and saw the way you looked at me," you breathe, feeling his lips now on your neck.
"You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen..." he whispers, into your skin. "You had to be mine."
He slowly thrusts into you, making you gasp.
"And you will be after tonight," he adds, kissing up to your jaw.
You whimper against his lips before he kisses you deeply.
"Faster, please..." you pant, into his mouth.
"Already so needy for more, huh?" He teasingly asks.
You nod, with a whine of his name.
"Ok, but..." He holds your chin between his thumb and pointer finger.
"You gotta keep your eyes on me as I pound ya into the mattress."
You nod, again, pulling him into a kiss.
You try to do as he wants, as he fucks you at a brutal pace. Your nails claw at his back as he grunts above you.
"There ya go, baby," he pants, "keep looking at me."
He manages to thrust himself even deeper, making your eyes momentarily close, before you force them open again. He smiles at you, giving you a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
"Such a good little slut for me, aren't ya?" He asks, while you only whimper in return, and wrap your legs even tighter around his waist.
"I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you, baby," he then growls into your ear.
You cry his name as that sends you over the edge.
"Oh, fuck, that's what you've wanted all along, wasn't it?" He says, as he keeps fucking you.
Tears stream down your face as he chases his own release.
"Been dreamin' of this, fucking your perfect pussy..." he breathes, as he mouths at your jaw. "Gonna fill you up, with every last drop..."
His thrusts are more erratic as he buries his face in your neck, biting down on your sensitive skin when he finally spills deep inside you.
You scream his name as it's all too much for you.
Heavy breathing fills the room, as you each try to come back down to Earth. His body weight is suffocating you, but you don't want him to move. You still cling to him, as he presses his lips to yours. You each share slow, lazy kisses. You actually pout when he breaks the kiss to lay next to you. He pulls you close, while you rest your chin on his chest, gazing dreamily at him.
He smiles as he gazes back at you, his hand reaching to cup your cheek.
You can tell there's so much he wants to say, but doesn't know where to start.
"You really are mine now, right?" He softly asks, as you nod.
You move closer to his face and press kisses all over his cheeks.
"Despite my better judgment, yes," you smile.
"Oh, you're still gonna be like that are ya? Maybe you need some more convincing that I'm the only guy you'll ever need," he replies, with a smirk, as he rolls you onto your back.
"Do your worst, honey," you say, before licking at his upper lip.
The first person smut nearly broke my brain, ngl. If it sucks I'm sorry, but I can't promise next time will be any better. Ngl first person is not my forte.
Part1, part2, part3
Letters
Rating; Explicit 18+ MDI | Relationship; pre-Sam O'Brien/Gator Tillman| CW; still swearing and explicit smut| Tags; developing relationship, pen pals, letter writing, Roy Tillman's A+ parenting, he legally names his only child Gator that man is Trash, Gator's trauma about his name, Gator has Daddy issues, again Roy is Trash!, Accidental feminisation because Sam hasn't figured out he's Bi.
Gator steps out of his room, dressed in black jeans and a black button up and his hair neatly slicked back. He walks towards the kitchen hoping that Roy isn't home and he can eat his breakfast after another night shift in peace in front of the tv. His luck doesn't hold as he sees him getting himself a cup of coffee.
“Afternoon”
His eyes briefly dart towards unopened mail next to the coffee maker. A move that Roy tracks.
“Hmm, I heard you had a drug bust last night. There were shots fired”
“Yes sir. They came from Winnipeg, had to get border patrol and Mounties involved. I clipped a perp in the shoulder. He's in the hospital but in custody. I also clipped a perp in his leg, he's also in custody in hospital. One perp died on the scene and two are in the wind”
“The only good spick is a dead one, but hitting two of them is good start”
He preens a little and puffs out his chest at the praise.
“Thank you sir”
He takes Roy's silence as a dismissal and starts making his breakfast. His eyes keep darting to the mail. He's filled with a nervous and anxious energy. He was so sure he would not get a letter back after insulting him so blatantly and obviously. But it seems that his burgundy pen pal is interested.
“Any girls that you're talkin too? It's been what, two, three years since what's her name moved”
His jaw tights as he steadies himself. He was hoping to avoid talking about his romantic life. Roy loved holding his failed serious relationship over his head at any and every opportunity. Not that his track record was any better. Dottie had just disappeared in the middle of the night, she didn't even take her belongings. At least Kathy had told him to his face he was an abusive asshole and was leaving.
“Yes sir, a girl I met on a music message board. Her name is Sam..Samantha. She lives in Milwaukee, and is a daycare worker. She's 5 '3, burnet, brown eyes and has big tits. Kathy sir, that was two and a half years.”
“Hmmm. Why are you getting mail from that military pen pal organisation? I Didn't raise you to be the sentimental kind. I thought you knew it was just a fake pr stunt”
He watches him drink his coffee. Being the sole focus of Roy's gaze never fails to make him feel like he's a little kid, caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“ I don't know what happened sir, but my letter got sent out and I was matched with a deployed soldier. I explained that the letter was never meant to get sent but he asked to keep writing, just to shoot the shit”
Roy gives him a nod before leaving the kitchen with his coffee. He lets out a sigh and waits a few minutes before crossing the kitchen to grab the letter. He stuffs it in his back pocket for safe keeping. It isn't until he's on his break in the middle of his shift and he's sitting in his patrol car alone in a gas station parking lot that he dares to take out the crumpled letter and open it.
Just like the previous letter it holds a photo, well two this time. They are taken on a night out, off the same group of friends. He recognises the guy with the buzzcut from the previous picture, he's nearly a hundred percent sure that must be Sam. Otherwise he wouldn't be the only person in both sets of pictures.
“Fuck Sammy boy! The things I would let you do to me”
Baby,
Trust me you would definitely only be thinking about me as I pound into your sopping wet pussy. The only thought running through your mind will be your need to cum and how good my cock feels. I'd have you bent over the kitchen table, naked as the day you were born with your ass up high. One hand fisted tightly in your hair as I pres your face against the table. With my other hand I grip your hip so hard it will leave a nice bruise that will last days.
I'll unzip my pants and only pull out my dick. You don't deserve to get me naked. I order you not to move as I let go of your hair so I can grip myself tightly, so I can guide myself to slam into you in one go. I don't give you time to adjust to my girth as I grip your hips tightly with both hands as I start thrusting into you. I just keep thrusting into you as if you're just there for my pleasure, as I chase my own orgasam. Hearing you groaning my name as I praise you for being so good and staying still. It also makes you clench tightly around me, keeping me deep with you. Just as I'm about to cum I pull out until only my tip is buried in your vice like grip. I love the way you beg, plead and whine to let you cum. I slam back home as I cum, coating your insides with my seed. I take a minute to breathe before pulling out, watching my seed leaking out of your used hole. I give you ass a nice slap before I tuck myself back in and walk away leaving you leaking all over the table.
Yours truly,
Basic generic Sammy boy
He sits slumped over in his seat panting heavily. He's holding his spent cock in hand. He throws his head back, eyes clenched shut tightly.
Warnings:Smut, talks of past toxic behaviours, Car sex, Dirty talk, Gator being rough with reader, possessiveness,
Masterlist
You sipped your drink, the ice clinking against the glass as you brought it to your lips. You had been waiting patiently at the bar for your date to arrive. Online dating wasn't something you had tried ever before, convinced that it just wasn't the thing for you, but one too many white wines after work a few weeks ago had brought you to where you were now, checking the door every time the bell jingled as people came and went.
Your last relationship hadn't ended well, he was the town’s sheriff, who drove past your flower shop nearly everyday on his morning patrol. One day he came in asking you which bouquet of flowers would be the best for a first date, and you’d told him that he couldn’t go far wrong with a bouquet of red roses, which after paying for them, he handed them back to you asking you to meet him for a drink that Saturday night. Things had been fun for a while, he was sweet to you and the sexual chemistry was electric, but it didn’t take long before his jealous streak began to rear its ugly head. He would question who you were hanging out with and would sneer menacingly at anybody who so much as glanced in your direction. Then there were the night's where he would text you to say he was staying late at work, but he'd come to you smelling like another woman's perfume. There was only so much you're willing to put up with.
And so that’s when you decided to end things with him.
But here you are now, single and looking for some fun. Awaiting the arrival of your date. You take another sip of your drink, the alcohol doing a very good job of helping to settle your jangled nerves.
“Well well well, look who it is.”
You turn around at the sound of a low voice chuckling over your shoulder, but your stomach drops when you see exactly whose voice it is.
“Gator.” You say firmly.
Ah yes, the ex-boyfriend in question.
“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this, huh?” He snarks, sitting himself down in the stool next to yours. “You're dressed up pretty fancy for a Friday night, don't ‘ya think?” he leers, his eyes raking up your exposed legs as you fight to tug at the hemline of your shorter than usual dress.
“You expecting company tonight, Petal?” He asks, taking a swig from his own beer bottle.
The mention of his old pet name for you makes an appearance for the first time tonight. Only it doesn't make you swoon in the same way it used to. Now it just fills you with disgust.
“You can't call me that, I’m not your girl anymore, Gator. You lost that privilege when you started sleeping around on me.”
“So who's the lucky guy?”
“That's none of your business.” You snip back, flashing your eyes to your phone's screen. It's almost an hour past the time your date said he would be here, and your stomach sinks for the second time tonight when you realise that your date isn't coming.
Gator catches the glint of embarrassment in your eyes, he's still able to read you like a fucking book, and a smirk pulls at his pink lips.
“Looks like you've been stood up.” he smirks, “How ‘bout I keep ‘ya company for tonight, huh? I know you miss me, Petal.”
“Yeah you wish, Tillman.” you scoff back, addressing him by his surname. Two could play that game, sheriff.
“Come on, I know you miss me. You miss me on those long, and lonely nights. Your fingers don't touch you the way mine did, do they? You can't satisfy yourself the way I can, just admit it, you miss me.”
Whilst you hate how much he's getting under your skin, even more you hate the fact that he's one hundred percent right. You'd had a few meaningless hookups after you'd broken up with Gator, each one leaving you unsatisfied and reaching for your vibrator, but it just wasn't the same. No matter how bad things got with Gator, there was always that undeniable spark of sexual chemistry between you. Screaming fights that ended with dominating kisses, nails leaving indents in each other's skin, and fiercely charged sex.
“You know what, I think I’m just going to call an uber and head home.” you say, finishing off your drink before gathering your jacket from the back of the bar stool.
“Let me take you home.” Gator says as he follows you out of the bar. “My car’s just a block away. You don’t know what kind of trouble a girl like you could get yourself into, people around here can be real shady, trust me I’ve locked half of them up already.”
You weigh up your options, waiting out in the cold in your short dress looking out for a car for 15 minutes, or walking the block with your ex boyfriend whilst he drives you home.
“Alright sheriff, take me to your car.”
“Come on then, ‘atta girl.”
The ride to your house is filled with the music playing from the car radio, keeping your eyes trained on the dusty road ahead.
There’s an air of thick tension between you. You know he wants to say something to you, his fingers are drumming on the leather of his steering wheel, and his eyes keep flicking over to where you’re sitting in the passenger seat.
“You hoping to score some meat-head guy to go home with, huh?”
“And what if I was? It’s not like we’re dating anymore, so I don’t have to run every detail of my life by you, Gator.” you bite back.
“I’d forgotten how much of a mouthy brat you could be.” he chuckles darkly.
“Yeah, well you just know how to push all my buttons, don’t you.” you huff.
There’s a beat of silence once more before Gator speaks up again.
“It’s probably a good thing that you got stood up.” he starts. “It’s not like that guy would’ve known what to do with you anyway. You would’ve got three pumps outta him if you’re lucky. The way I see it is I’m just saving you from having to do the walk of shame, Sweets.”
Gator’s hand soon travels from resting on-top the gear shift stick, to creeping over to rest on your knee.
You didn't brush his hand away, you knew what game he was playing, and after being stood up and denied a night of mindless sex, you were all too ready to play along with his little game.
His hand keeps inching higher and higher, slowly creeping its way up your thigh. The roughness of his fingertips skimming the soft skin until he’s edging close to the skirt of your dress.
“I bet if I pulled your panties over you’d be wet for me, wouldn’t you.” he says, with his voice almost as rough as his touch.
“And what if I told you I’m not wearing any panties?” you challenge with a quick raise of your eyebrows.
“fuck it” he curses before pulling the car off to the side of the road.
“What's the matter Gator, thought you were taking me home?” You ask, all too sweet and innocent, twirling a strand of hair between your fingers.
“Yeah, and I thought you were a good girl, but we both know that's not quite true, is it Petal?” He says, turning his dark hazel eyes to you. “No, because you're not good, are you? No, you're just a little slut, looking for a good fucking.”
“You’re all talk, you know that Tillman?” you goad. You could tell by the way he was looking at you that he was close to breaking, and if you played your cards right you might just get what you wanted.
“This is your last chance to back down, because if we do this, I’m going to fuck you like the whore that you are.” he says, fixing you with that intimidating stare.
“I want this, I want you, Gator.” you nod, giving him a knowing stare of your own.
“That’s what I wanna hear.” his voice gravels out as he grips your chin between his fingers and presses his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. “Now, get in the back seat, because I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”
You quickly scramble to the empty space in the back of Gator’s car, making yourself as comfortable as you can in the small space, lying your back down on the leather seats.
As you lie there, Gator makes his way to you from the side door, opening it to see you eagerly awaiting his next move.
He unbuckles his belt, and drags his zipper down before pulling down his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. Bringing his hand up to his lips he spits crudely into his palm, using his spit-slick fist to jerk his cock to full attention. His hand strokes up and down his cock, coasting over every thick inch of him, his pink tip glistening with sticky pre-cum as it pokes through his fist.
“Are you gonna fuck me or not, Sheriff?” you tease, waiting to see his reaction.
And sure enough you get it. A growled response as he stalks his way over to you in the cramped space in the backseat of his car.
“You're gonna regret getting so bratty with me, Petal.”
And then in one swift movement he's turning your body over so that you’re lying stomach down across the spread of the backseats.
“Face down, Ass up. Just the way I like ‘em” he says with a growl of approval, stinging a quick slap to the plump flesh of your ass, guiding his cock to your pussy and using his slick tip to trace the shape of your lips.
He’s pressing his body over yours, teasing his dripping cock at your entrance, and the heat flaring in your stomach burns with the anticipation for what lies ahead.
“Look at you, so wet already and I've hardly touched ‘ya. Bet I could just slide into this tight little cunt with no problem.”
Then the tip of his cock is no longer teasing you. It’s pressing against your opening as you spread your legs apart as much as you can to accommodate him.
The once familiar feeling of his thick cock filling you to the hilt comes back to you all at once. His calloused hands find their home on your hips, holding you in a bruising grip as he begins his relentless thrusting. Drawing his hips back, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back into you with practised ease.
“Fuck, you’re so tight, you feel so fuckin’ good.” he grits out through clenched teeth, reveling in the way every ridge of your pussy glides over his cock. “This is my pussy. Mine. Nobody else gets to have you like this. Taking my fuckin’ cock like it’s the only thing you’re good for.” he groans, running his mouth the way he always does.
And you fucking love it. His words were claiming and possessive, but in the heat of the moment, they were everything you wanted to hear.
You try to hold yourself up as he hits the sweet spot inside you every single time, and it’s all you can do to stop yourself from sinking into the leather seats.
One of his hands that’s gripping your hips travels up the length of your body until it’s framing the column of your throat. Not squeezing, but giving just the lightest touch of pressure to make you feel dizzy with pleasure. Your eyes glazing over with glassy tears bubbling in your eyelashes.
“Oh my god, Gator…you’re so big..making me feel so full..” you whine, practically drunk on him. Drunk on wanting the man you know you shouldn’t want.
“That’s my good fucking girl.”
The knot in the pit of your stomach ties itself ever tighter, as he continues to rut himself into you with reckless abandon. You know he’s getting close too, you can tell by the way his movements falter with stuttered thrusts.
“Come..Come inside me..Please..” you beg, letting the desperate tears fall from your eyes, mascara streaks tracking down your cheeks.
“You always were such a slut for my cum, Princess.” he chuckles as he drives his hips into you.
In one final thrust he buries himself to the hilt inside the tight clench of your cunt as both of you reach your highs. He spills into you, holding still as the waves of pleasure roll over your bodies.
When the dust settles, and you feel like you can breathe again you hear a hiss from over your shoulder as he slowly pulls out, leaving the evidence of his indiscretion to drip down your thighs. He tucks himself back into his jeans and swipes a big hand through his mussed hair.
“Pull your skirt back, and sit tight, I’m not finished with you yet.” he says to you as he makes his way back around to the driver’s seat at the front.
You brace yourself over the headrests of the front seats, leaning over to where he’s sat, with the pinkish flush still gracing his freckled cheeks.
“What’s the matter, Gator? You're not gonna take me home anymore?” you tease, your breath kissing the shell of his ear.
“You’re coming home with me, I didn’t get the chance to eat your pussy since you were being such a brat, and you know better than anyone that I always get what I want.” he says confidently, turning his head towards you to capture lips once more, slipping his tongue in to dance with yours.
Hooking up with the town’s sheriff and ex-boyfriend probably wasn’t the smartest idea in the world, but that was a problem that you’d be willing to face in the morning if just for tonight you could be Gator’s girl once more.
summary: he's terrible for you, but you can't stay away. based on the song 'like i do' by tate mcrae. not proofread.
pairings: gator tillman x female!reader
gator tillman was someone you knew to stay away from.
from the moment you moved to the small, run-down town, he had been watching you like a hawk. what started out as keen interest soon became near-infatuation, but it wasn't just gator that was experiencing it.
the first time you met, you had been leaving the convenience store at the gas station, deciding to pick up some snacks after filling up at the pumps. you hadn't even noticed him at first, always opting to keep your head down and just get to where you needed to be. but gator being gator, he couldn't resist speaking to the new girl in town.
he immediately commented on how a 'pretty girl shouldn't be around these parts alone' and you humoured him until you could get back into your car and drive off. it wasn't even an interaction that registered in your brain until you saw him again the following day, in the middle of town with - who you came to learn was - his father. then, gator decided to play it cool, perching his hands on his hips and nodding over in your direction which you simply played off with a smile.
"you again?" he asked with a smirk, walking up behind you at the grocery store. you turned to look at him, noting that he hadn't even been carrying a basket or pushing a cart. was he just walking around?
"hi, deputy. can i help you with something?" you asked sweetly, head tilted back to look up at him better.
gator smiled and shook his head. "no, no. i was just takin' a walk around town, makin' sure everything was okay. thought i'd treat myself to a drink."
he reached past you, grabbing a cold drink from the fridge in front of you. he watched as you ducked back a little, not wanting to be in his way, but that was just the way he liked it.
"didn't peg you to be a coke zero kind of guy." you chuckled, and to him, it had been the most beautiful sound.
"well, you know..." he trailed off with a shrug. "gotta keep myself strong and fit. wouldn't want to be getting hurt out in the field now, would i?"
"i suppose not," you smiled up at him. "anyway, i should keep going. see you around?"
gator nodded with a small smirk. had you not found him intriguing, you would have been creeped out. "yeah, see you around, doll."
it had been little meetings, complete coincidences, until it wasn't.
after working out the fact you were a new teacher and had moved to the area specifically for this job, gator made sure that the school was on his patrol route everyday knowing that if, and when, he caught a kid just outside of the gates misbehaving, he could round them up and take them inside to see you.
he didn't even know your name for the first few weeks, often calling you "pretty miss" until you informed him of your name. he repeated it back to you a few times, testing the sound on his tongue and nodding.
gator was over the moon when he introduced himself by name and you replied with a simple "yeah, i know." he took it to be a compliment but you didn't have the heart to tell him it was because every teacher here had encouraged you to stay away from him. he's bad news, they'd say, shaking their heads, and typically you would listen. normally you would kick him out of your classroom for standing within your personal space. normally, you'd yell at him for slowly dragging his fingers up your arm.
but you didn't.
"you cold?" he asked quietly, a hint of a smirk behind his words. he could feel your skin breaking out into goosebumps because of his touch and he loved it.
you shook your head at his question, finding the nerve to speak. "no. not cold."
after that, you were as infatuated with him as he was you. you didn't understand why your heart sped up every time you saw him, or the mention of his name in the halls had you lingering so you could listen. why did you care what sort of mess he was getting himself into?
you swapped with a teacher who was creeped out by his constant patrolling, so at the end of the day, you could monitor the kids being collected or walking home safely. in reality, it was so you could share a glance with him as he slowly drove past, a smirk on his lips.
it felt like a game of cat and mouse. one of you were always chasing the other, desperately trying to garner some attention from them. gator loved it especially, liking the way you stroked his ego without even realising it. his father complained his head was always elsewhere now, but it didn't bother him. roy had never been his biggest fan but gator didn't need him to be. now, he had you.
pretty, wonderful, funny you, who he had only ever had a few short conversations with. but every time you did speak to him - god - he wanted nothing more than to drag you into the back of his cop car and -
no.
he wasn't allowed to think that way about a citizen. he wouldn't disobey his orders and get you tangled up in his mess like that. but it was tempting.
you, with your sundresses, stood outside the school gates like an angel guarding heaven. he knew he should leave you alone and only ever speak to you when duty called for it, but he couldn't help himself.
as you watched him get out of the parked car and make his way up to the gates, a small smile plastered on your face, you had no idea the tumultuous future you were submitting yourself for.
"hi, deputy sheriff. to what do i owe the pleasure?" you ask, like you do almost every time, and gator smiles and comes to a stop in front of you.
"oh, nothin' much. just checkin' in on my favourite teacher. you havin' any trouble lately?"
you shake your head, feigning innocence. "no, nothing."
gator nodded, biting back a smirk. "so, everythin' good? cause, you know, if you need anythin', i can make it happen."
the weeks of small talk, the weeks of flirtatious touches and lingering eyes, finally caught up to you and you gave in.
that night, gator brought over a bottle of wine and the pair of you became entangled in more ways than one.
it was messy, dangerous, secretive; but it was hot. even when he'd show up at your house with blood stains on his vest, you'd wash the material and ask what happened and if he was okay, and he'd tell you. he'd tell you a version he could - that he and his team apprehended someone and they tried to hurt gator. what he wouldn't tell you was that he had been the one to throw the first punch, that it had been a mission from his dad. but you knew. you knew better than he thought.
by the end of that week, you had learnt more about gator tillman than most people in this town. it was no secret that he tried it on with every pretty girl, but judging by the conversations in the staff room, no one had fallen for it for a while.
"honestly, i pity whoever has that low self-esteem to shack up with gator tillman. he's an embarrassment to his family and to this town." christine said, interrupted by another teacher.
"embarrassment is a bit far. christ, he's only a kid, christine. not one i'd want my daughter to get with, but he's only the way he is because of his father."
"yeah, well." she began again, shaking her head. "still. probably as desperate for companionship as whoever ends up with him. you heard all about him and that suspicious activity he does for roy. i don't trust them as far as i can throw them."
you never told gator these things. it wasn't worth upsetting him and, really, you didn't know him well enough to know how he would handle hearing that. if his father was terrible to him, perhaps the last thing he needed was the opinion's of strangers.
besides, you figured how gator made you feel after a few drinks or after a hard shift was better than what these miserable women had in their lives. who cared what he got up to in his spare time?
you had never been one for a bad boy, always preferring the safe option. but this felt different. it wasn't even a relationship but gator always made sure your needs were seen to. you needed a lift? he'd be there. you needed saving from a creep at a bar? holy shit - he'd be there. you needed to vent about a kid at work? he'd bring the wine.
"you ain't told no-one about us?" he'd whisper against your neck, eagerly marking you. when you'd reply with a faint 'no', he'd grin. "atta girl. don't need anyone tryin' to take you from me. my girl. they'd be furious you let me get this close to you - think you need savin' from me."
he'd mutter against the skin of your chest, your stomach, your thighs.
"ain't me you need savin' from. i'd never let anyone or anythin' hurt you."
you didn't need a relationship from him. there was an unspoken rule there that you were his, and he was yours, and it worked.
it worked for months, until one day, gator told you he couldn't see you anymore. no more late nights, no more fun, just an abrupt ending to something that hadn't ever taken off. and despite that, despite knowing it was only ever fun for the both of you, it felt as though your heart had been shattered into a million pieces. without realising it, you had fallen for gator and his pathetic daddy issues.
whenever you saw him in town, he'd look the other way. he wouldn't drive past the school anymore and instead got a petty officer to do it. he wouldn't even acknowledge you in the grocery store or at the gas station. you could walk right into him and he'd pretend you were a ghost.
maybe that was what hurt the most. perhaps if there had been a reason for his sudden departure, you would be able to make sense of it all. and so, you parked outside his house, making sure his family weren't home before knocking on the door.
gator opened it pretty quickly, not expecting it to be you, and his face became stern at the sight of you.
"can we talk?" you ask quietly, but he doesn't budge. "gator, please. five minutes. that's all i'm asking."
with a small huff, gator opened the door wider and let you inside, closing it behind you.
"i told you, i've got nothing to say."
his words were sharp, but the delivery soft. he seemed genuinely sad at the fact you were no longer talking everyday, but he had been the one to instigate it.
"you have plenty to say," you start, turning to face him. "you just won't say it. why?" you ask, taking a step closer. "i thought that we..."
your words trail off, unable to finish the logic. there was none. you weren't even friends, just a vessel to each other. or so gator thought.
"ain't worth gettin' into." he claimed, shrugging and walking into the kitchen to get himself a beer. "women always wanna talk about their feelin's and i ain't interested."
"is that what it's about?" you ask, following him into the other room. "you think i couldn't handle us just being what we were?"
"i don't know! could you? always whinin' about your damn job-"
"like you weren't?!" you retaliate, letting out a scoff. "crying to me about how awful your dad is, how you wish we could just run away and never see him again. we, gator. like you wanted me to go with you and all of a sudden you can't stand the sight of me?"
gator shook his head, hating that you were so easily able to call him out on his previous actions.
"god - all the things i heard about you! all the things i refused to believe because, jesus, gator! i thought under all that assholeness and spite and all the illegal shit you do for your dad, you were just a normal guy who had gotten caught up in it! i was an idiot for thinking you were different." you spat, hands waving about as you tried to make your point. "you know, i knew there was a dangerous side to you. and i knew there was a side you always wanted to hide, shutting me down whenever i mentioned your dad. but this... this is just sad."
"you don't know what the hell you're talkin' about. you watch your mouth before i shut it for you!"
you sigh heavily at the empty threat, taking a step closer to him. "you know, i thought we were friends." gator looks away from you, biting his tongue. "but right now... i've got this weird feeling in my stomach. i can't tell if you wanna kill me or..."
you pause, watching as gator's eyes flickered back down to yours. "or what?" he asked, feeling as if he were walking on eggshells.
"or if you wanna kiss me."
gator pursed his lips, falling silent once again though his eyes bore into yours.
"sometimes i'm flattered. flattered that you look at me the way you do with those big brown eyes. that you touch me so delicately, so fiercely. but also, fuck you. fuck you for making me feel that way. for opening up to you, for trusting you even when i knew better."
his eyebrows raise slightly, and had you not been paying attention, you would have missed it. the slight shock; the disappointment that you were genuinely pissed with him.
but it seemed you had gotten through to him, his eyes jumping between yours and every inch of your face surrounding. his heart rate picked up and eventually, he shook his head.
"i didn't wanna be a douche about it." he admitted softly, his hand finding your arm as it had many times before, gently tracing lines. "but it was the only way to stop it."
"stop what?" you questioned quietly, your eyes trying to catch his gaze again. when you did, you raised your brows. "stop what, gator?"
"this. us. liking you like i do. it's hell for me. you ain't got a clue what it's like dealin' with all this."
"then tell me. let me help you."
"it ain't about that." gator's free hand now comes up to your cheek, his thumb steadily swiping over your cheekbone. "it ain't, really. i can handle it. it's what i was made to do. but you..." he sighed. "you're so gentle. so sweet. this world i live in ain't the one for you, doll. ain't the life you're meant to have and i'm not the guy to give you any better."
your hand rises, encircling his wrist. "i never asked you for any kind of life, gator. you know i don't care about that stuff."
"you should. jesus, you should hate me like everyone else does. i do all these things to try and impress my daddy and he doesn't give a shit. it makes me a terrible man, a man that ain't deservin' of you."
his voice cracked a little and only then did you come face to face with the real gator tillman. it was one thing to know about all this stuff, but to see it was a different story.
"i ain't a good man, doll. the worst kinda man. and you deserve to be with someone who will... i don't know. go to the stars for you, or somethin'. see? i don't even know that. i don't even know what a romantic thing to say right now is." he admitted, his hand now moving to cradle the back of your head. "i so badly wish this weren't the life i had. maybe if things were different."
"they can be different," you promised, your hands resting against his chest. "all that stuff doesn't mean anything. this..." i gesture between us. "right now. this is what means something. i don't want perfect. hell, i wouldn't have moved here if i did. but you, gator tillman, are an enigma. i wanted to figure you out."
"i wanted to figure you out, too. ever since that night at the gas station."
you smile, cupping his cheeks and stroking the little lines beside his eyes. "did you?" he shook his head a little. "well, i think i'm on the way to figuring you out. and if you don't wanna go back to what we were doing before, fine. but i wanna get to know you, gator. the real gator. not roy's son or deputy sheriff. but the guy who vapes too much. who breaks his wrist doing things he can't legally tell me about."
you chuckled, and so did he for a brief moment.
"it's messy, doll. real messy. me, my family, this town. i wanted to spare you from that." his hand on the back of your head gently stroked through your hair, and you offer him a small smile. "wanted to protect you, like i always said i would."
you nod a little, hands dropping back to his chest. "you can't protect me if you ignore me. you can't protect me if you don't know anything that's happening in my life, can you?"
gator shook his head again. "but your friends, what they say about me -"
"has nothing to do with us. they can say what they want, it doesn't mean i listen or believe it. i trust you. in some... twisted, nearly psychotic way..." you both chuckled again. "i trust that you tell me the truth. or, at least, what i need to know. can you trust that i'm being truthful to you now?"
after a moment of silence, gator nodded, and you smiled up at him like nothing had even happened. he had missed your smile. he had missed everything about you, really.
you sighed then, your hands coming up to hold his jaw carefully. "promise me," you begin. "promise me that you're not going to vanish again."
gator brought his forehead down to rest against yours. "i promise. i ain't runnin' or hidin' from you again. you're mine, you know that? no matter what anyone says. if anyone tries to take you from me, i'll kill them. if i have to, i will. i ain't letting anythin' separate us again."
he looked into your eyes, watching as they softened with his agreement. gator was the most confusing man you had ever been tangled with; one minute telling you that you were his and his alone, and that he would kill anyone who tried to get between you. the next, he was nearly in tears talking about his father and the mistreatment he faced from him. it was pathetic. it was lovable.
"i shouldn't have treated you that way. it weren't good of me. i just don't want you to get hurt because of me."
"i know," you spoke calmly, tilting your head back ever so slightly to nudge your nose against his. "i know. and i love that you wanna protect me. but it's gonna be different, okay? you've promised me - you can't go back on it now." you tease with a small smile.
gator chuckled quietly, one hand still on the back of your head and the other fastened to your hip. "i won't. 'm gonna keep you safe forever."
his promise was met with the soft pressing of his lips against yours. it was different from every other kiss you had shared; those usually filled with desire and desperation. but gator wanted to make sure you knew he meant what he said. he would fight for you and your love, even if it meant fighting against every natural instinct he had.
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Warnings: rough sex/wall sex | possessive language and behavior | dirty talk | marking/biting | size kink | praise kink | emotional vulnerability/confession | friends to lovers.
Summary: after the phone call, Gator makes it a point to drive over to your place. You obviously try to play it as if the phone call didn’t happen but he doesn’t let it go.. confessing how he’s always felt for you.
—
Back at your apartment.
You are pacing. You are wearing your rattiest t-shirt and the shorts with the hole in the seam. You are holding your phone like it’s a live grenade. Your face feels like it’s been set on fire and the flames are permanent. You have never, in your entire life, been this embarrassed.
The door opens.
You freeze.
It’s him. Of course it’s him. He doesn’t knock. He just walks in like he owns the place, leaning against the closed door, crossing his arms. He’s still in his full deputy uniform. His hat shadows his eyes but you can feel his gaze like a physical touch, trailing over you, seeing everything.
“Gator!” Your voice is too high, too bright, cracking on the second syllable. “Hey! What are you doing here? Everything okay?”
“Just checking in,” he drawls, slow and easy, like the world isn’t ending. “Got a noise complaint call in this area earlier. Wanted to make sure everything was quiet now.”
Your throat is sandpaper. You swallow. “Oh! Yeah! Super quiet here. Just me! Watching… TV. Super boring stuff. Infomercials.” You wave a hand at the dark, silent television screen like an idiot.
“Is that right?” He takes a step forward. Then another. The room shrinks. The air gets thick. “Because I got this weird call earlier too. On my personal phone.”
You stop breathing. Statue. “Did you?”
“Yeah. Pocket dial from a friend. Lots of… background noise.” Another step. He’s close now. So close you can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his lips part just slightly. “Sounded like they were having one hell of a good time all by themselves.”
Your carefully constructed facade of normalcy crumbles. “Look, Gator… I don’t know what you think you heard—”
“I know exactly what I heard.” His voice drops. Soft. Deadly serious. It strips the room bare. “I heard every sigh. Every little hitch in your breath. I heard that soft, slick sound of you touching yourself.” You squeeze your eyes shut, humiliation burning through you. “And I definitely heard my name.”
A whimper escapes you. You wrap your arms around yourself. “Please… just forget it. It was… an accident. A stupid, embarrassing mistake.”
“Embarrassing?” His hands come up, cupping your face. Your skin is on fire under his palms. He forces you to look at him. “Baby, there wasn’t a single thing about that call that was embarrassing.” His thumbs stroke over your flaming cheeks. “It was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Your eyes fly open. You search his face for the joke, the disgust. You find neither. Only a dark, smoldering heat that makes your knees weak.
“I was in my cruiser,” he confesses, his voice a low, intimate rumble that vibrates right through your bones. “Pulled over on the shoulder. And I listened. And when you started moaning my name…” He leans in, his lips brushing yours as he speaks, sharing the secret. “I unzipped my uniform pants. And I jerked myself off listening to you come.”
The confession punches the air from your lungs. You make a small, shocked sound. The image is immediate, vivid, undeniable: Gator Tillman, deputy sheriff, alone in the dark of his patrol car, hand on himself, lost in the sound of you.
“You… you did?” you whisper, the words barely there.
“I did. And I came harder than I have in years, just from the sound of your voice saying my name like I was right there with you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. For so long I’ve lost count of the years. But I was so goddamn scared of ruining what we had. Our friendship… it meant everything to me. I thought if I ever made a move, I’d lose you forever.”
Tears well in your eyes. Not of shame anymore. Of overwhelming, dizzying relief. All the tension, the electric charge, the unspoken looks that lasted a second too long—it finally has a name. It wasn’t just you. It never had been.
“Gator…” His name is a sob this time. A release.
That’s all the permission he needs. The dam breaks.
His mouth crashes down on yours. It’s not tender. It’s desperate, starving, a frantic clash of teeth and tongue and years of pent-up longing. His hands drop from your face, roving down your back, gripping your ass through the thin shorts, lifting you off your feet. You wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carries you the few stumbling steps back to the wall beside the door.
He pins you there, his hips grinding against yours, the thick, hard ridge of his erection pressing into your core through the layers of fabric. “Tell me you want this,” he growls against your mouth, his hands rucking up your shirt, palming your breasts roughly. “Tell me I didn’t just dream that whole fucking phone call.”
“I want it! I want you!” you cry out, arching into his touch. “It was you! It’s always been you!”
With a ragged groan, he yanks at the waistband of your shorts and panties, dragging them down your legs. His own belt and zipper are undone in seconds, his uniform pants shoved down just enough. There’s no finesse. No patience. Just a raw, needy hunger that demands immediate satisfaction.
He lifts your hips, positions himself, and drives into you in one deep, brutal thrust that steals the breath from both of you. The stretch is immense, perfect, filling the empty ache you’d carried for so long. You cry out, a sharp, guttural sound, and bury your face in his neck, biting down to stifle a scream.
“That’s it,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “Just like that. Scream for me. Let the whole damn building hear who’s making you feel this good.”
He sets a punishing pace from the start, each hard thrust slamming you back against the wall. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open for him, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. It’s rough. It’s messy. It’s everything you’d both fantasized about and denied for years, finally unleashed with no filter, no restraint.
“You feel… so fucking… good,” he grunts between thrusts, his forehead pressed to the wall beside your head. “Tighter than I ever imagined. Taking me so good, baby. My good girl. All mine.”
The filthy praise, the sheer physicality of his possession, combined with the deep, relentless friction, coils the pleasure inside you to a breaking point. “Gator! I’m gonna… I can’t…”
“Come on,” he snarls, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, aiming directly for that spot that makes your vision blur. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me like you did on the phone. I wanna feel it.”
His command pushes you over the edge. You shatter with a raw, broken scream, his name tearing from your throat as your body convulses around him. The sensation of you coming undone drags him under immediately. With a final, guttural roar, he buries himself as deep as he can go, his body locking tight against yours as he empties himself inside you.
For a long moment, the only sounds are your ragged, synced breaths. Slowly, he softens and slips out. He doesn’t let go. He keeps you pinned against the wall, his body still trembling, his face buried in your neck. His hands move from your thighs to your back, stroking gently over the skin where he’d held you so roughly moments before.
“Ruined,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice thick. “I’ve definitely ruined our friendship.”
You let out a shaky, breathless laugh, tangling your fingers in his damp hair. “Yeah. Pretty sure ‘friends’ don’t do that.”
He pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are soft, vulnerable, stripped of the cocky deputy persona. “Was it worth it?”
You reach up, wiping a smudge of your lipstick from the corner of his mouth. Your smile feels wobbly but real. “It was worth every second of the wait.”
A slow, relieved smile spreads across his face. He kisses you again, softer this time, a seal on the promise. Then he carefully lifts you—your legs are too shaky to hold you—and carries you to your bed, where the night stretches before you, full of the new, terrifying, and exhilarating reality you’ve just created.
cw: partying, drunk person, Roy Tillman being Roy, alcoholism(?)
part two part four
masterlist
By the time Gator got home, the sky had gone fully dark, the ranch settling into that deep, stretching quiet that always came after sunset. The kind that felt too still, like the world had paused just enough for your thoughts to get louder.
He shut the truck door with a dull thud, keys jangling in his hand before he dropped them on the counter. For a second, he just stood there, staring at nothing in particular.
Then—
He moved down the hallway.
He didn’t really question why.
His knuckles tapped lightly against her door.
“Ace?”
Nothing.
He frowned slightly, pushing the door open.
Empty.
The bed untouched.
The room too still.
And then he saw it—
The window.
Open.
Curtains shifting in the breeze like something had just slipped out.
Gator stared at it for a long second, jaw tightening.
“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
He stepped further inside, glancing around like maybe she’d appear out of nowhere, like maybe this wasn’t exactly what it looked like.
But it was.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face with a groan. “One night. That’s all it took.
He turned sharply, already heading back down the hall.
Friday night.
Of course she’d go out.
Of course she wouldn’t listen.
Of course—
His dispatch started up.
He stopped, listened, already knowing.
“Yeah?”
“Noise complaint,” Roy’s voice came through, steady and clipped. “Big one, large gathering, possible underage drinking. You close?”
Gator glanced toward the door. “…Yeah.”
“Then go handle it.”
A pause.
“And Gator?”
“…Yeah, dad?”
“Don’t play nice.”
The line clicked dead.
Gator stared at his walkie for half a second before shoving it back into his chest pocket.
“Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “Didn’t plan on it.”
—
The music hit before he even got out of the car.
Loud. Heavy. The kind that shook through the ground and into your bones.
The house was packed—cars lining the street, people spilling out onto the lawn, laughter and shouting mixing with the bass.
He shut the patrol car door harder than necessary.
“Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “Let’s see.”
He could’ve called it in. Could’ve shut it down from the outside.
But he didn’t.
Because he knew she was in there.
And sure enough—
The second he pushed inside, the heat and noise crashing over him, it didn’t take long to find her.
Violet stood in the middle of it all laughing.
Someone handed her a shot—she took it without hesitation, throwing it back with a slight wince before breaking into a grin like it didn’t matter.
Like nothing did.
Gator felt something twist tight in his chest.
“Jesus, Vi…”
She didn’t see him.
Didn’t hear him.
Didn’t even know he was there until—
His hand wrapped around her upper arm.
Firm, Grounding.
She turned, blinking up at him, delayed by just enough to make it obvious.
“…Gator?” she slurred, her lips pulling into a lazy smile. “Oh my god—hi.”
“Are you serious right now?” he snapped, leaning closer so she could hear him.
She squinted at him slightly double vision was serious. “What?”
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “You think this is funny?”
She laughed, actually laughed. “I mean… kinda?”
That did it.
He straightened, raising his voice.
“Cops are here! Go home!”
Everything exploded into chaos. People shouting, scrambling, grabbing drinks and jackets, pushing past each other to get out—windows, doors, wherever they could go.
Violet swayed slightly, watching it all like it was a show.
“Ohhh,” she said slowly. “That’s why you’re here.”
Lottie locked eyes with her for a second, giving her a look—half warning, half we are talking about this later—before disappearing with the rest of the crowd.
Violet barely reacted.
Gator tightened his grip when she tried to move towards Lottie.
“Nope,” he muttered. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Hey—” she tried to twist away, laughing. “I was having fun—”
“Yeah, I can tell,” he shot back. “Let’s go.”
“I don’t wanna go,” she protested, dragging her feet slightly.
“Too bad.”
“Gatorrr,” she whined, leaning into him instead of fighting him now. “You’re ruining my night.”
“You ruined your own night,” he replied flatly. “I’m just ending it.”
—
Getting her to the car was a struggle. Not because she fought him—but because she didn’t. She was loose, unsteady, unpredictable.
“Okay,” she said, stepping forward and immediately stumbling. “That was—wow—shit—the ground is moving.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, catching her easily. “Because you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” she insisted, pointing at him with zero coordination. “I’m—fine.”
“You’re not even close to fine.”
He opened the passenger door, guiding her in.
She flopped into the seat dramatically.
“You know,” she started as he walked around to the driver’s side, “people are talking about us.”
“I don’t care,” he deadpanned, starting the engine.
“They think we—” she leaned closer, lowering her voice like it was a secret she whispered, “hooked up.”
“Violet—”
“Isn’t that funny?” she giggled.
“No,” he said flatly. “It’s not.”
“I think it is,” she said, leaning her head back, then suddenly perking up as the radio played “our song” by Taylor Swift. “Oh! I love this song.”
Before he could respond, she started singing.
Loud. Off-key. Completely unbothered.
Gator shook his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter. Eventually she turns down the radio some.
“You weren’t supposed to be drinking,” he said after a minute.
“Mhm,” she hummed, still singing.
“I mean it, Vi”
“So do I,” she said, not listening at all.
“Are you even hearing me right now?”
“Nope!”
“…Great.”
—
By the time they got back to the ranch, she could barely stand.
“Alright,” he said, opening her door. “Up.”
She tried.
She failed.
“Oh,” she said, blinking hard. “That’s not good.”
“No kidding.”
He wrapped an arm around her, steadying her as she leaned heavily into him.
“Gator,” she mumbled, her head tipping toward him, “you’re like… really nice to me sometimes.”
“Focus on walking.”
“I am walking,” she insisted, nearly tripping again.
He caught her before she hit the ground, exhaling sharply.
“Yeah, no. We’re not doing this.”
Before she could question it, he picked her up.
One arm under her legs, the other around her back.
“Hey—!” she giggled softly. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you.”
“Oh,” she said, considering that. “…Okay.”
She settled against him easily, her head dropping onto his shoulder.
“You smell good,” she murmured.
“Alright,” he muttered. “That’s enough talking.”
—
Upstairs, he set her gently on her bed.
“Sit,” he said.
She did—barely.
“Shoes off.”
She kicked one off.
Missed the other by a landslide.
He sighed, crouching down to pull it off for her.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly, watching him like it was funny.
“Yeah.”
He stood, stepping back. “You good?”
She blinked up at him, quieter now.
“…Stay?”
He hesitated. “Ace—”
“Please,” she said softly. “Just… stay. Until I fall asleep.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“…Fine.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
She moved immediately, curling into him, her head resting against his chest like it belonged there.
“Gator?” she murmured.
“Yeah?”
“…Do you hate me?”
He frowned slightly. “No.”
“Even when I do dumb stuff?”
“…Yeah,” he said after a second. “Even then.”
She hummed softly, like that answer was enough.
“You’re not as mean as you act,” she added.
“Don’t spread that around.”
She smiled faintly.
Then—
Nothing.
Her breathing evened out.
She was out.
Gator stayed there, staring ahead, not moving.
And at some point—
He fell asleep too.
—
Morning hurt.
Violet groaned, shifting slightly before freezing.
Warmth.
Solid.
Her eyes blinked open slowly.
Gator.
“…Oh my god,” she whispered.
He stirred. “…What?”
“My head—” she winced.
“Yeah,” he muttered, sitting up slightly. “That’ll happen.”
She pushed herself up, immediately regretting it.
“Never drinking again,” she mumbled.
“Good,” he said. “Stick to that.”
“Don’t start,” she warned weakly.
“Oh, I’m starting.”
—
Downstairs, Karen was cleaning while Jess and Maude watched a movie.
“Morning,” Jess said.
“You look bad,” Maude added.
“Thank you,” Violet muttered.
Gator handed her painkillers and water.
“Take these.”
She did, leaning against the counter.
“You can’t keep doing this,” he said.
She closed her eyes. “Gator—”
“No, listen,” he continued. “Sneaking out, drinking like that—it’s not normal.”
“I said not right now,” she muttered.
“You were blacked out,” he pressed. “You could’ve gotten hurt if I hadn’t shown up.”
“I’m fine,” she said, her voice thinner now, shaky
“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You have a problem.”
That word—
Problem.
It hit harder than anything else.
Her eyes filled instantly.
“I said I’m fine!” she shot back, her voice breaking.
Gator froze.
“…Violet—”
“Stop,” she said, wiping her face quickly. “Just stop.
Silence. Thick, awkward, jarring silence.
Worse than before.
—
She stayed in her room the rest of the day.
Until dinner, she refused to come down for it when Gator asked. So Roy decided to take matters into his own hands.
“You eating?” he asked.
She hesitated.
“…uhm, Yeah.”
--
Dinner was quiet, Too quiet. Violet sat next to Gator but didn’t look at him, talking instead to Jess and Maude. They liked her, that helped. A little.
They said grace.
Started eating.
Karen said something. Too quiet to hear, something about Roy. Roy’s head snapped up.
“What’d you say?”
“Nothing,” she replied quickly.
“That didn’t sound like nothing.”
“It wasn’t—”
The slap came fast. Sharp and loud.
Violet froze.
Karen flinched, her hand rising to her cheek. No one else moved, not really. Jess and Maude kept eating. Gator stayed still. They were used to it. Violet’s stomach dropped.
She looked at Gator for the fist time since that morning. He met her eyes briefly, then nodded toward the patio.
—
Outside, the air felt colder.
“What the hell was that?” Violet whispered.
Gator ran a hand through his hair. “It’s… just how he is.”
“That’s not normal.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“And you’re just okay with it?”
He looked away. “…look, my dad is just.. old fashioned, okay?”
“That’s not better.”
“I know.”
She shook her head slightly, still rattled.
“That’s—Gator, that’s not okay.”
“I know,” he repeated, quieter now. The silence stretched. It was different this time. He stepped forward, hesitating before pulling her into a quick, careful hug.
She stiffened, but didn’t dare move.
“Get some sleep,” he murmured. “Church in the morning.”
She exhaled slowly, church. Seeing her father, the pastor.
“…Okay.”
And for once, she didn’t argue.
an: guys two chapters in one day 🥲✌️
I’m hoping this series gains more traction cuz I love it to death.
