ℰ ৻ꪆ

summary: you land back on the Tillman ranch due to your father's job, but you were unaware that this time around, certain events would change everything between you and Gator, the ragged county sheriff you’ve always had a soft spot for.

warnings/tags: reader is female, angst, a little smut (gator is drunk, reader kind of regrets it), cliffhanger, implied age gap, no use of y/n, not much else to say i don’t think.. gator is a little rough.

wc: 4.6k

em’s note: this is my first ever time writing a fic so i hope you guys like it! this is part 1 of 2 that i want to write. the next part being gator opening up to reader and her taking care of him as he navigates his new life. let me know if you guys enjoy this and i’ll definitely follow through with a second part! <3

Gator never had a good sense of what love was. His mother, to his knowledge, had abandoned him when he was a little boy. Left in her wake was his angry father, who Gator knew always had a distaste for him. Gator knew his relationship with his father wasn't one of love but one of use and hard work. Over the years, there were moments in his life where he was sure that whatever he had was truly it, true love. Moments where he'd stumbled upon a girl who threw herself at him and dropped her panties when he needed relief. But, later, he’d realized tight pussy gets loose the more you use it. “Love” for Gator Tillman always ran dry.

Gator had never considered you a possible source for love. Maybe it was because you seemed to be a ghost only ever drifting through his life, or maybe it was because you were utterly untouchable to him. Pure in a way he’d never known himself to be. You were like sunshine cast across white marble in his fucked up mind, full of bloodied bodies and bruises.

With the season, you’d sprinkled your way back into his life again. The season his father needed your own back on the ranch as a pair of extra hands. Your father had indefinitely warned you over the years to stay away from Gator. He was forbidden to you, dangerous, like hot fire burning in a pile of ash that was daring to be touched but felt far too warm to pursue the closer you got.

The second day after you moved back onto the ranch, you ran into him for the first time. You were in the main house's kitchen, prepping ingredients for dinner that night. A traditional girl, you always loved to help. To cook or to clean whenever possible.

“Well, if it ain't the little lady ‘er self. Heard ya might’ve been back ‘round here.” You turned your head to look at him, a stupidly soft smile crossing your lips at the sight, the sleeves of his shirt tightening around his biceps as he crossed his arms. “Gator.” Your voice is unwaveringly sweet as you acknowledge him.

He leaned against the frame of the doorway, the gold flecks in his eyes catching the light as they drifted down your white sundress before moving back up your body. He was looking at you as if you’d hung the moon. Then the expression in his eyes turned like he’d caught himself doing something he knew he shouldn’t. Even with his sudden shift of foreign awkwardness, you could feel your cheeks warm. Then, he was gone as soon as he’d come, leaving your next words to die on your tongue.

Gator ran a hand down his face as he exited the house. Did he seriously just check you out? It’s been a year since he’d seen you, but damn if you hadn’t filled out. Matured. You’ve become a woman, and suddenly his entire body tingles at the thought of getting closer to you. Thoughts of slipping off that pretty white dress and seeing all you had to offer under there infiltrating his brain.

From the kitchen, you heard the door of his patrol car open and close, the sound of tires crunching across gravel as he drove away. You reached up, pressing the backs of your hands to your cheeks, unbelievably warm with blush.

The truth was, you'd always had an eye on Gator. Always wanted to just reach out and wrap your arms around his neck, stand on your tippy toes so your nose brushed with his. He was strong with broad shoulders. He has those eyes that are capable of softening so much that it was a breeze for him to get whatever he wanted. Those moles and freckles that littered his body were always something unforgettable to you. You'd spent many nights thinking about whether you could ever get close enough to try and count them all.

But, under all of that;

You knew what he'd gone through. Your father had told you along with all his other relentless warnings. But to you, Gator was misunderstood. He had been misled his entire life. He knew nothing but what his daddy had taught him, which included nothing but hatred, cold shoulders, a sharp set jaw, and the mindset to do now and just maybe… think later.

It took a minute for you to come back into your own body, to feel grounded again after just a few words from Gator and his sharp eyes directed towards you. That moment, right then, your bare feet against the cool hardwood floor, is when you decided;

You were going to do any and everything you could to make Gator Tillman see how much love you could give him and just how much of it he was worthy of.

You would make him see that he was more than the scoreboard his father placed him on. More than a cold, empty bed or clothes discarded on the floor after a night out at the bar. You were going to give him everything he deserved and more.

That night you helped serve dinner, feeding Roy's staff in complete around the long dinner table. You felt Gator's eyes on you the entire time. A burning gaze from across the room that only ever seized when you looked in his direction. Dinner passed; it was late when you were working on the dishes, cleaning up the mess left behind. Your help, Roy’s wife Karen, had stepped out to put her girls to bed.

You stood at the sink alone, washing a pan, when he came in. He headed straight for the fridge on an important mission to grab a beer. “You left quick this morning...” He turned his head a fraction as he opened the bottle and moved it up to his lips. “Hm?” You dry your hands, turning to him. “I can send you with breakfast in the mornings, you know? Lunch too if you’d like.”

He looked at you like you were something foreign, like he didn't understand why you'd want to do something like that. “Aint gotta do ‘al that darlin’, I'm jus fine.” His voice was stern, but his words and his tone betrayed his actions as he stepped closer to you. Truth was, Gator's brain and heart were in a long, drawn-out battle that he'd been fighting all day. Thoughts of you and that damn dress that still clung to your hips now had plagued him as he sat in his patrol car off the highway.

“It's a shame for you to be working hungry, Gator.” He huffs now at your sugary tone, “Don't you go worryin’ ‘bout me. Don’t need ‘al that. ‘M jus fine. You take care of your job here.” Then he was gone, out of the kitchen door like he hadn't cared a bit. It stung, like a wound that was deep subcutaneous, stung to be rejected so quickly without a second thought by someone you wanted to help. You were just being nice, that's how you wanted him to see it. But it seemed to him like he knew it was more than that, more in a way that he hadn't been accustomed to.

That was the truth, the reason why Gator turned you down with that sharp tone of his so quickly. No one cooked just for him, no one packed him lunches. Shit, that was something a mother does for her child. Packed lunch was full of words that washed up to “I'll take care of you.” No one took care of Gator Tillman; he wasn't a child. He had himself, and he damn well knew what he needed without anyone else's help.

Hours passed after the kitchen was cleaned. The main house had been clearing out for the last hour or so. Now that it was finally empty, except for you, Karen and Roy headed upstairs to their bedroom. You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed to Gator, the way he was slumped back into the cushions of the couch, one leg crossed over his thigh with his beer bottle held lazily in his hand.

“What ‘cha lookin’ at over there, little lady?” Your cheeks got so warm you could feel the heat radiating off them. You just knew you were incredibly red.

“Nothing, Gate…” He huffed, “Don’t give me that bull. Talk to me, mama.”

“Gator, I think you’re a little drunk.”

“Ain’t, fuckin’ drunk. Tha hell ya talkin’ ‘bout woman?” And then he uncrossed his leg, boot settling flat on the floor. He pat his lap. “C’mere.”

You hesitated.

“Know yer lookin’ at me, you have been since you showed up. So, c’mere.” You could say the same about him.

Your feet were carrying you before you could think a second thought. When you settled in his lap, he immediately moved you so that you were straddling him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath.

God, you knew what this was. He was tipsy. He was pent up. Yet, he had said himself earlier that he didn’t need you. You were just supposed to do your job.

“Pisses me off how damn pretty you are. Ain’t right, me feelin’ this way ‘bout you. Wantin’ you so bad.” His fingers dug into your hips.

“Gator, I-“

Before you could finish, his mouth was on yours, all warm and booze ridden. You couldn’t say no. How could you? You wanted him just as much. So, you kissed him back. Arms slotting around his neck like you’d always dreamt of, your nose brushing his.

He had you laid down within a minute, hands sliding under your dress. Your mind was undoubtedly moving 1000 miles a minute. This isn’t what you had planned for. You wanted to show Gator real love, something more than this, show him that everything he knew wasn’t everything there was to know. But now that you were here, mouth against his and his hands touching your body, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t ever want it to stop.

You pawed at him, feeling his chest and torso. Part of you just wanted to make sure this was real. By the time you both stripped each other of your clothes, your brain had practically melted.

“Fuck- yer gorgeous. Look at ya.” He groped your chest, hands running down your tummy all the way to your thighs, spreading them open. He coated his length in your slick then covered your mouth as he pushed into you. Your hands moving to his biceps, nails digging in.

He felt like nothing you'd ever known before. Just like heaven.

Gator made you come twice before he finally spilled inside of you. His hand was damp from your mewls because he had covered your mouth the entire time. He had to conceal all the moans of pleaure you made, all the times you said his name. Your chest was heaving when he pulled out of you.

He brushed your hair away from your face. Gator Tillman’s eyes in this very moment were the softest they’d ever been. When he recognized this surge, he felt as if it was love, he started to slowly back away.

He grabbed his pants and began redressing himself. When he found his shirt on the floor, he lazily wiped you up. He grabbed your dress, helping to pull it back over your body. Somehow, your panties had miraculously disappeared in his efforts to dress you.

“Get yer pretty ass home. S’late.”

“But, Gate…” He sighed at you. “Go on, be a good girl and listen ta me.”

If you were being truthful, you couldn’t read his expression; his tone was incredibly even after what just happened.

You hesitantly trudged out of the house, going to where you were staying on the farm. When you reached your room and sat down on your bed, the contemplation began.

What you had with Gator was supposed to amount to more than this. You’d never planned to have sex with him. You wanted to show him that you were different, that he could have more than that. Why’d you give in so easily?

You couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you as just another slut that he could get his dick wet with. You’d fix this tomorrow, get back on track. You’d show him that what you want with him is way more than what just occurred.

The next morning, he never came into the kitchen like you'd been hoping he would. You hoped that he'd come in, kiss your cheek, and say that he’d changed his mind and that he wanted you to make him lunch for work. You wanted to be able to tell him that when he got home later, you wanted to talk. But you heard the front door open and close, the sound of his patrol car start, the tires crunching against gravel, and there you were, left standing alone in the kitchen.

You checked the time; maybe he was running late? No, he was early. Why the hell was he avoiding you? Were you not good enough last night? Had you done something wrong? Maybe he just got called into the station and had to run out… But he still could’ve said something, anything. Did last night mean nothing to him?

That one hurt. You had to quiet your brain before you could spiral any further. If he wanted to avoid you, then you'd just do the work yourself. You’d make him see just how good you could be.

You made your way up the creaky stairs of the old farmhouse, pushing open the door to the room you knew to be Gator's. You knew it was his all because of the one night Roy had sent you up to grab Gator for him; they had had something awfully important to get done for some reason. When you pushed open the door, you were met with the semi-familiar sight.

Not one you loved, truthfully, with the half-naked women plastered on the walls and the handcuffs around the post of his headboard, you just knew what he used them for. The knowledge made a pit whirl in your stomach. You were not stupid. Your heart pounded suddenly, like you were someplace you knew you weren’t supposed to be.

There were beer bottles scattered across his nightstand and clothes thrown around as if he'd rummaged through everything to find something very specific before he'd left. You started like it was instinct, scooping his laundry basket under your arm and beginning to pick up the clothes that were all around his room. Once the basket was full, you made your way downstairs to start washing. You wanted everything to be perfect for Gator when he came home from his shift; a nice, clean, and tidy space for him to decompress.

When Gator came home that afternoon, he avoided you once more as you sat on the couch in the living area. You kept your eyes fixated on the TV as he went straight up to his room. A smile crept onto your lips as his presence drifted through the house, it was stupid really, he was avoiding you yet you were still giddy at his presence. The smile quickly faded when you heard his door slam shut and his boots thump back down the stairs almost as quickly as they had ascended up.

“Who the hell was in my room?” His voice boomed through the living area as he reached the bottom of the stairs. When your eyes landed on his, you couldn’t believe how genuinely furious he looked. Jaw set, shoulders stiff, and eyes dark with unmistakable anger. Before you can open your mouth, he’s already crossed the room. Right in your face.

“I told ya to back the fuck off!” ..Back off? The conversation you’d had yesterday morning? Was he pretending last night never happened?

He raised his voice and you broke. Broke like a glass window pane that had been rattled too harshly by a storm. “Gator… I- a-all I did was your laundry.” Tears trickled down your cheeks now. “I washed it and folded it up and-“

He grabs your chin between his thumb and pointer, forcing your head up so you’d really look at him. “Don’t start tryin’ ta crawl your damn way in ta my life. Ya hear me?” His face is painfully close to yours. So close you can feel his breath fan across your lips. “Y-yes… I’m sorry, Gator.” You’re already hiccuping softly.

When he let go of you, it wasn’t without force, yanking his hand away so hard it pushed your head back at the same time. “Stay tha fuck out.” His boots stomped up the stairs, and after his door slammed closed in finality, the house felt painfully stiff. Quiet. Not a creek or groan from any of the old wood. Not even the mumble of the TV was present in your mind as you sat there on the couch in the aftermath of Gator’s tantrum.

Had you really done something so wrong? He had fresh clothes now that you’d picked up and washed his messy tornado of a room. You were nothing but confused, sniffling on the now gowingly uncomfortable sofa. As you got up and left, going back to the little barn house you were staying in at the ranch with your family, Gator was up in his room huffing resentfully.

Gator was scared; he knew it just like he knew the cold of his gun when his finger wrapped around the metal trigger. He was scared of letting someone in who cared so deeply for him. Someone who wanted to take care of him without any benefit to themself. Gator being taken care of was something so unbelievably foreign that he just couldn't fathom it.

He had been raised his whole life with the idea that he had to be absolutely nothing but strong. His father constantly drilled masculine ideology into his head. He needed to stand his own, conceal his emotions, focus on his work, and serve his community like the good American boy he was. He didn't have time for a relationship that was anything other than a quickie, which relieved the stress that had built up from his work.

Gator always wanted to be good. However, the expectations he had on his shoulders were greater than that. That's why when his dad called him at midnight, he didn't hesitate to push everything down, step into his boots, and grab his gun.

You make it back to the little house your family was staying in and pushed open the door. As soon as your father saw your face, he was up and across the room, examining you. “What happened? Who was it? What’s going on?” You couldn’t do anything but cry, then his grip on your shoulders tightened. “Was it Gator?” His voice was stern as ever.

How’d he even tell?

Before you could answer, he was out the door and making his way towards Roy’s before your mouth even attempted to open. You went after him, god forbid things between you and Gator got worse. When he got to the house, he was met with emptiness. Gator was gone. So was Roy.

And that was that. There was nothing that could be done. You signed a breath of relief, your tears drying and your breath only slightly shaking now. Your father hadn’t gone and ripped everything apart; it was still fixable. What you didn’t know is that “fixable” was out of sight. This was the start of not seeing Gator for a while.

It was odd for you to stand in the main house's kitchen during the morning hours and not hear Gator leave for work. You weren’t really sure what you were even doing. Roy wasn’t around, and Karen had fed her girls. What were you supposed to do?

Overthink.

Had Gator left for work early in an elaborate scheme to avoid you further than before? Did he absolutely hate your guts? Was he disgusted by the thought of you? Is that why he wants you to stay away from him so badly… were you really that terrible?

You spent the whole day spiraling in your own thoughts so much so that by the time it hit dusk and Gator still was nowhere to be seen, you almost didn’t register it.

Didn’t register until Roy came in. He seemed pissed, slamming the door, yanking off his coat. He made his way straight to his office and locked the door. That’s when it hit. Where was Gator?

When Roy came out, he had only acknowledged Karen, informing her he was calling it an early night and that tomorrow would be a big day.

Big day? And what did he mean he was heading to bed? Didn’t he think about where his son may be? What if he was hurt?

“Karen.. um- do you know what he means? Big day?” Your voice is almost tiny; if Roy heard you prying, he’d surely kick you out. She turned to you, and you could tell her words were true by the expression on her face, “He doesn’t tell me things.” She almost scoffed.

“I haven’t seen Gator since yesterday afternoon...” She looked at you, puzzled now. “So?” Oh. “N-nothing, it’s nothing, I’m sure.” Even your own voice wasn’t convincing enough to yourself.

Unbelievable. Did no one care about him?

You couldn’t fall asleep when it came time for you to get some rest that night. All you could do was lie awake and think about Gator. You could only listen for his patrol car to drive across the gravel and announce that he was home.

You got up to get some water from the little kitchen in the little house where your family was staying, searching for anything to calm or distract your mind. Your dad was rounding the corner of the doorway when you were still only just reaching for a glass.

“Can’t sleep, can you?” You jumped a little, even though his voice was hushed so as to not wake your mom. “How can you tell...” He sighs, “You’ve been a nervous wreck all day, honey. What’s going on?”

You mull over your options here, talk to your dad about Gator, and risk a lecture, or talk to your dad about Gator and convince him to actually do something.

“It’s Gator, dad… He’s practically missing, and no one cares.” You sound exasperated. That doesn’t stop his protectiveness and his strict tone. “I just knew it was him you’ve been so upset about. I told you not to be getting involved with him.”

“Dad, I’m not 'involved' with him. God, this is unbelievable.”

“I am just saying, you’re worrying yourself sick, and for what, honey? You should know by now that Gator is unpredictable. He probably found some woman out at a bar and is staying with her. That’s what he does. That's his nature.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You felt sick. Gator blowing up at you, avoiding you to go out with another woman who was most definitely in his pants quicker than he could probably even open his mouth. All while you were here. Waiting for him. “Dad- Don’t-“

“I’ve warned you about what kind of man he is, honey. He doesn’t stick around. And the only person he’s loyal to is his father.”

“Just leave me alone.”

You went out to the porch to sit. You needed fresh air and silence. You sat out there all night. Even when the sun started to rise in the sky, Gator still never showed back up to the ranch.

Your eyes were starting to droop when you heard Roy. He came out of the main house, dressed and ready for the day. You watched as he walked towards the back of the ranch, where the barn and another shack sat. You could’ve sworn you heard the voice of a woman yell when the door opened to the shack. Maybe you were just exhausted.

The day spiraled quicker than anything you'd ever seen before. It all started with one gunshot. After that, the noise was endless. It seemed everyone was scrambling, as if they had a role in what was happening, they knew exactly what to do. But you had no idea what this meant.

Soon enough, you found out. Your dad pulled you inside. He looked frantic, sweat sheened across his forehead. He set his hands on your shoulders.

“Are you listening to me? You need to pack your stuff. We have to go.”

“Dad, what’s going on?”

“Sweetheart, I am so sorry for bringing you here.”

All the color drained from your face, and your body felt numb. “What?” Your voice broke.

“Sweetheart, Roy Tillman is a bad, bad man.” He pauses, then, “I should’ve never stayed for the money.” His voice was quieter, almost like he was talking to himself.

“I don’t understand-“

He said your name to get you to really listen. “Roy’s really messed up this time. I know all these years I have warned you about Gator, but it’s always been so much more than that. Roy, he- he does more shit than the town paper covers. God… he’s kidnapped his ex-wife, Nadine. The FBI is on its way, there have been killings- We have to go.”

Your blood ran cold. Kidnapped? Killings? FBI? …Gator.

“Dad- No.” “Dad, where is Gator? We have to find Gator.” You immediately tried to move away, but he held you tighter. “Honey, no. Don’t you dare. If you go out there, there’s no telling if you’ll come back. There are dangerous people out there.”

“No! Gator is missing! And then you tell me this?!? What if he’s dead, Dad?” The tears start flowing relentlessly. You’re shaking, growing snotty. You’ve never been more terrified in your entire life. You couldn’t bear the thought of Gator dying at the hand of his father, who he’d done his all for his entire life.

“I’m going. I have to find him.” Your hand touched the doorknob, and three shots fired. After you flung open the door, you were met with a strange quietness across the ranch. It almost felt like finality. The end of something that you weren’t even familiar with.

Roy was caught, handcuffed, and shoved into the back of a cop car. After that, the clip of handcuffs never seemed to end. Surely they’d eventually run out of pairs.

You made your way through crowds, and burly men tried their best to get you to stop. You weren’t going to. Not until you found Gator. It wasn’t until you asked an unfamiliar blonde woman about him that you finally got an answer. She pointed to an ambulance; the look on her face was one that ignited a new sense of urgent fear within you.

You practically ran toward the direction of the ambulance, the gravel crunching beneath your feet.

You came to a dead stop when you saw him. White sterile bandage around his eyes, hair messy, shoulders slumped. All alone on the gurney outside the ambulance.

Hurting and alone is how Gator had spent his entire life. Tears immediately trickled down your cheeks. Your body willed your feet forward, though your heart was terrified.

When you reached him, you didn’t even have to open your mouth. Gator whispered your name. He’d somehow known it was you just by your presence. He reached out, wanting to feel you. You took his hand, fingers lacing with his.

Gator Tillman softened like he never had in his entire life. He knew now he needed you more than ever.

Your voice was the sweetest thing he thought he’d ever heard; “Gator… what happened?”