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gator tillman x fbi!reader

You've made the move to Lehigh, and after a first night trying to get to Gator, you quickly decide it'll be easier to just befriend his father... and then you meet his father.

bureau, boyfriend, betrayal: chapter two

wc: 1.5k

warnings: roy tillman, not proofread

a/n: i didnt forget about this story i swear. i love to write but it just requires so much time out of me that i dont have plus lowkey my blog is flopping so it's hard to care. i AM updating it though, just whenever i have time.

The move into Lehigh wasn’t as unfortunate as you were expecting it to be. For whatever reason, you’d been cooking up an image of a desolate town with empty roads and boarded-up buildings in your mind. It isn’t as though there weren’t those things, but there were also plenty of normal-looking homes and stores. It wasn’t the city you were used to, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the picture you’d mentally painted. There was even a decent bar on Main Street. 

After moving into your quaint little rental home, a long day of hauling boxes alone into a new town, a drink is exactly what would make you feel better, so the bar is exactly where you headed. 

The smell of beer and cigarettes immediately flooded your nose when you stepped inside, and the sound of some poor rock song you didn’t know on the speakers hit your ears, followed suit. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d usually frequent, but it would do as long as they had liquor. 

With a sigh, you slide into one of the barstools and wait to catch the bartender's eye before ordering whatever mixed drink you can think of first. It only takes a minute before the drink is haphazardly handed to you over the bar, and you are downing your first. You had no real intentions of getting drunk, but a little buzz couldn’t possibly hurt.

Your attention lingered on the tv’s hanging above the liquor shelves in front of you for a few minutes, some sports channel playing that you wouldn’t care a single bit to watch in any other circumstance. It was funny, you thought, you’d only been here an afternoon, and you could already feel yourself assimilating to what you could only assume to be the Lehigh standard.

You even think about approaching some of the others in the bar before ultimately deciding against it. They were all a little too rowdy and a little too unfamiliar for you to think you could gain anything from speaking to them alone, let alone remain safe. So, your attention falls back to the tv’s for another two drinks, and after the third is finished, you scoot the barstool back, ready to head out for the night. The bottom of the stool scrapes against the linoleum flooring of the bar, a bit of resistance from whatever sticky substance had been neglected to be mopped away, and you cringe at the noise, but ultimately hop down. 

Before you can take a single step toward the door, it swings open, and the bar erupts with soft cheers and variations of “Hey, man!”. Your eyes scan over the group of men that had just entered, and immediately fall onto someone you recognize: Gator Tillman. 

It was as if seeing him in person reminded you that you hadn’t just moved here because you wanted to and you weren’t just a local wallowing at the bar, you had work to do. 

Instead of walking out the door, you pivot and head to the bathroom. Taking a deep breath in the mirror, you adjust your top, pulling it down just a tad more, and apply a new layer of lipgloss. Felicity’s suggestion rings through your head. 

If you could get to Gator, even just as an in, so that you could actually get the information from Roy, maybe you wouldn’t need to spend your entire year here after all. 

With a confident breath, you slide out of the bathroom and back to your spot at the bar, where, luckily for you, Gator and his friends seemed to have taken purchase. 

Your luck continues when he actually speaks to you first. 

“You new here or somethin’?” His accent is thick, and if you didn’t have an idea of the kind of thing he got up to, you’d even think it was a little charming. 

“Moved in today. Got a job with the police department as a receptionist.” You do your best to make your voice as appealing as possible, and turn to face him, crossing one leg over the other as you do. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing moving to an ugly town like this?” He slurs, leaning over to you against the bar, and you can tell his attention is already split between you and his unruly friends. 

“Just needed the job, is all. Gonna tell me your name?” I hum, flagging the bartender for a fourth, and final drink. 

“Gator Tillman. M’ sure we’ll get well acquainted if you'll be spendin’ time at the station.” I feign shock at his words, and he seems proud that I seem impressed. 

“You an officer, then?” Your words draw out just before you take a sip of your new drink.

“Deputy.” He smirks, confirming your earlier hypothesis about his pride. 

“Man in power, huh?” You lay it on thick now, batting your eyelashes up at him, teasingly biting the end of the straw in your cup. 

Unfortunately, Gator’s attention has been captured by two men past you on the other end of the bar who have suddenly begun shouting at one another. 

You glance back with a soft scoff and an eyeroll at their public immaturity, and when you glance back, you know your conversation with Gator is as good as over.

“Sorry, mama, gotta go..” He trails off, not even looking back down to you. His cocky tone and the use of the nickname send a chill that you can only describe as “ick” down your spine. “See ya round, though.”

 His indifference to leaving you puts a soft scowl on your face, and you decide then and there that you were right all along, trying to get to Roy by playing with Gator’s feelings was definitely not the right way to go about this assignment. It wouldn’t be easy when the behavior he’d displayed to you in only a matter of minutes told you he was not the type you’d have much luck with anyway (a playboy who’s only priority over flirting with women was masculinity; the worst kind of playboy).

So, on your way home from the bar after slipping out before a full-on fight could break loose, you decide that you need to figure out a way straight into Roy’s good graces. 

This leads you to bake cookies in your brand-new home to hand out tomorrow under the guise of meeting your coworkers. When you walk into your first day at the station, only hours later, the smell of chocolate chips in your wake, you are filled with hope and naivety. After getting settled behind the desk, you do find a moment to pass out the cookies, even enjoying a few conversations with other people in the building. You save Roy for last, and he does actually take a cookie, but the interaction leaves much to be desired in your hopes of appeasing him. 

He just… doesn’t care. He says thank you for the cookie, then politely asks that you close the door behind you. He doesn’t ask your name or ask how your first day is going, just nothing. 

You weren’t entirely expecting that, but you’d heard the horror stories of how unpersonable Roy Tillman could be, so you weren’t entirely shocked either. No big deal; you’ll just have to keep trying. 

And try you do, for an entire month. A month full of goodies and “good mornings”, errands, coffee, and anything else you could possibly think of. 

“Good morning, Sheriff, your hair looks nice today. Did you get a haircut?” You complimented, and had the fake sweet smile you’d gotten so good at using plastered on your face as he walked in for his day in the station. 

He doesn’t even look up. Doesn’t slow down walking or falter at all. “Don’t pay you to look at my hair.”

You wanted to be shocked at his indifference (which was beginning to feel more and more like disdain), but after a month of attempts going exactly this way, all you could do was let out a soft sigh and get back to your work. The worst part of the assignment was that you had a regular job to do, too.

Throughout phone calls and answering emails, you took a couple of glances over at Gator’s desk. In the month you'd been working with him, you’d come to the conclusion that he was “something of a ladies' man”, as Felicity had put it. He was, in fact, a flirt, but he was so…difficult to be around. It was a shame he was so handsome. 

You groan softly and let your face fall into your palms. Maybe you needed to revisit your initial attempt to get involved with him, after all, his father was proving to be just as hard to be around, and he was a whole lot less handsome.

gator tillman x fbi!reader

You've received your very first assignment as an official FBI agent, and unlike the action you've been dreaming of, you've been placed in Lehigh, North Dakota. Exciting, right?

bureau, boyfriend, betrayal: chapter one

wc: 1.4k

warnings: none? i hope lol, only barely proofread

a/n: eeekkk i am so excited to finally write this. i've been sitting on this idea for months. i do work like alllll the time, but i'll do my best to update at least somewhat regularly. i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i've enjoyed creating it.

Graduating from the academy, you thought you’d be thrown into high-action cases from the get-go. You’d dreamt of action-packed days as an FBI agent since you were a little girl, watching all the drama television shows with your mother and believing it could be you one day, keeping people safe on a grander scale than writing speeding tickets or shutting down teenage parties. 

What you did not expect was an immediate placement in the middle of nowhere, Lehigh, North Dakota, for an entire year. 

The day after you left the academy, you were placed in the Minneapolis field office, the closest to your new home for the year. It was only three days that you were in the office before Cal, the lead of the criminal investigative division in your field office, pulled you aside. 

“We’ve got a case that we need you for.” He spoke smoothly from his large leather desk chair. “I know you’re fresh, but it’s nothing you aren’t prepared for.” He sighed softly before sliding a manila folder across his desk to you. 

The folder contained records of a sheriff in a small town, lost funds from a sheriff's department, and reports upon reports of suspicious behavior, violence, and disappearances. Sat atop all the documents was a small photo of the sheriff you assumed was in question. A buff, older-looking man with a large white cowboy hat resting on the top of his head. 

“Roy Tillman. We know he’s got shady business going on in his neck of the woods, but we haven’t been able to get anything solid enough to pull together a warrant to raid his ranch. We want to get him busted before he’s reinstated next year and more taxpayers' dollars go missing, and we need you to get us the information we need.”

It took you a moment to process the information. It wasn’t exactly the riveting, adrenaline-inducing work you’d been anticipating, but you were honestly too happy that you were being entrusted with this so soon to care about the nature of the work. 

“Why me?” You ask the man in front of you. Your voice isn’t full of doubt so much as it is confusion. Even if your boss believes you’re capable, it still doesn’t make much sense that he’d send someone so green for something years in the making.

He pauses for a moment at your question, dragging his thumb and pointer over his upper lip, then down the sides of his mouth. “Simply put, we need a pretty, young face.” He leans forward in his chair. “The Tillmans are a…traditional bunch. Roy isn’t gonna give any information up for Deborah. We’ve tried.” He gestures through the glass window of his office to your coworker sitting at her desk. 

Deborah was a nice lady, but she’d worked in the office for many years. The stress of the job had clearly gotten to her, and not that she wasn’t beautiful, but she wasn't exactly the type of woman men get sloppy with their thoughts around. Apparently, you were?

Realistically, you understood what Cal was getting at. 

“I see. So, all I have to do is figure out something that can get us a search warrant. Surely it won’t take an entire year for that. Why am I assigned there for so long?” You furrow your brows, flipping through the paperwork of your assignment. 

“The Tillman’s are just… tricky. You’ll understand when you get there, but it isn’t likely that they’re just going to slip up so easily. Roy Tillman is not the first we’ve looked into; this is a generational investigation.” He explains, and by the wrinkle forming on his forehead from his own furrowed eyebrows, you begin to understand. 

“The first month of the assignment, you won’t even be in Lehigh. It’ll be investigative work prior to going in, as well as finding a place to live and getting a job. We want you to do those without government interference, so that integration into the town can be realistic. Their sheriff’s department is actually hiring a receptionist, and being in the office would be ideal, so you'll also see a job application for that in the file. That’s what you were doing before the academy, right? Should be no sweat.” Cal says casually, like even the potential of the end of the Tillman reign is enough to brighten his day, and from that, you can tell this family really has been quite the headache for your new coworkers. 

You finish talking about the details with Cal, then immediately throw yourself into researching the case. You look into old town news about the Tillmans, prior case files on your end, and even research on Lehigh itself. 

About a week in, your entire department knew where you were headed, and none of them could be more glad to finally have some hope in getting that ranch taken care of. 

“You know about his son, right?” Felicity, whose desk was right across from yours, spoke lowly over the plastic dividers between the two of you. 

“Gator? Yeah, but he doesn’t seem like he’ll do me much good.” You shrug, setting aside the file you were currently skimming and peering up at her. 

“I might rethink that.” She hums. 

“What? Why? From everything I’ve read, he’s just his father's lapdog. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be surprised if Roy didn’t even involve him in the things I'm after.” You tell her, remembering the article you read only yesterday about some trouble Gator found himself in. An article in which Roy himself expressed great distaste for his son, very publicly. Honestly, it was a bit sad to read.

“I don’t know if I’d be so sure about that. Gator’s gotten himself into more trouble than what those newspapers let on. Roy doesn’t let ‘em publish everything, y’know?” She shrugs over the divider. I mean, she had a point. After everything you’ve read, it wouldn’t be shocking at all to learn that Roy had barred some things from hitting local news, especially things regarding his own last name and the shady things they got up to.

“But I still don’t see how he’d be especially useful. Why waste time with his son when I could go straight to Roy?”

“Roy is… a lot.” Felicity sinks down into her chair, simply moving it around both desks to sit in front of you now. “I was doing some work on a case regarding him a few years back, and he was not easy to talk to. Gator isn’t either, but he is something of a ladies' man. All I’m saying is, it may be easier to cater to Gator's heart than it is to Roy’s mind. He seems like the type who just needs some attention, might make it easier to get something out of him.” She shrugs again before rolling her chair back over to her own desk.

You sat with the thought for the rest of the afternoon. Playing on emotions like that, especially when you didn’t really view it as necessary, felt… like a cheap play. You had an entire year, after all. Surely in that year, you’d be able to get close enough to Roy to get something. 

Hopefully. 

You let out a soft exhale, not quite a sigh, but heavier than a usual breath, before looking now at your computer, disregarding the file you were flipping through prior to your conversation with Felicity. 

Before continuing your search for places to rent in Lehigh, your email application pinged with a notification regarding the virtual interview you’d done two days prior for that receptionist position you spoke to Cal about. Sitting in your inbox was a reply from the Stark County Sheriff's Department:

“Congratulations, we would like to offer you the role of receptionist.”

You only skimmed the rest. It listed your first day in the office as February 3rd, only two days after you were supposed to move to Lehigh on the first, provided you could find somewhere to live before then. 

The preparation for the case in the following two weeks consumed your life. The more you talked to the office about the assignment, the more you realized how big a deal this actually was. The Tillman family had been a thorn in the side of the federal government since before you were born, and you were beginning to feel increasingly antsy waiting for it all to begin. 

gator tillman x fbi!reader

Your first assignment as a fresh member of the FBI involves a small town in North Dakota, and its sheriff's big personality. In a year, you must uncover the secrets of the Tillman family in hopes of validating a raid before the sheriff's re-installment. However, the job proves to be more difficult than initially anticipated, seeing as Roy Tillman has no weaknesses. Well, except the one; his son.

wc: ongoing

warnings: regular law enforcement talk, doesn't follow the exact timeline of fargo but bear with me, some foul language, some suggestive content, but no smut.

chapter one: january: bureau

chapter two: february: roy tillman does not care for flattery

chapter three: march: and gator tillman does not settle

chapter four: april: first five

chapter five: may: investigative activity

chapter six: june: june is for lovers

chapter seven: july: the slip up

chapter eight: august: a rock and a hard place

chapter nine: september: a shown hand

chapter ten: october: silence

chapter eleven: november: formulated felony

chapter twelve: december: sincerely, gator

gator tillman x reader

gator believes that to be loved will solve the issues that keep him awake at night, unfortunately for the both of you, he’s so very wrong.

wc: 2k

warnings: some foul-ish language, not a happy ending, honestly just sad the whole way through, not proofread

all the pretty girls in the foreground of my mind

Some nights, the memories of all the women Gator used to be able to get around with haunted him. He’s had a lot of time to reflect since his release from prison, and he’s had a lot to think about since he started meeting with his court-mandated therapist, and despite what one might think, what he pondered the most wasn’t his father. It wasn’t even everything he’d done, or the time he’d spent in prison, or even the scars over where his eyes once were. 

It was the complete deterioration of any sort of “love life” he once maintained. Honestly, saying it was a love life was a stretch; he knew it was mainly a hook-up here and there, and even those were sparse. Prior to the events that had overtaken the last few years of his life, Gator was entirely too focused on being his father's dog to care about anything pertaining to a woman, until he desperately needed his dick wet, that is. 

What makes it so awful, though, is that Gator desperately needs his dick wet, and he can’t even get that far anymore. 

Being blind has stripped Gator of just about all of his masculinity. Granted, most of that feeling is due to his own twisted view on what makes you masculine, but he feels it nonetheless. 

He feels it constantly. 

i thought i’d done enough, but they keep moving the line

He tried to do the self-improvement his therapist wanted from him. He really did, and most days he even thought it was working. 

It seemed like no matter what he did, though, it was never enough.

At first, the women he’d meet brushed him off because he was blind. This was what he prepared for the most. He could charm his way in. He could pull the baseless confidence from his past and make them laugh enough to slither his way into their roster. 

But as soon as he’d make his way in, they’d learn about his past, or they knew him from before, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t ever convince them that he’d changed enough to be worth their time.

The fact that Gator was even looking for a connection with a woman was proof enough to him that he had changed, which just made it all the more frustrating. 

Gator’s entire life had been racing to finish the line his father set for him, the illusion of acceptance as the prize that kept Gator pushing like a farm animal with a treat dangling in front of his face; out of reach despite how hard he worked.

He was healing from that; he knew he was. So what kind of cruel joke is it that the universe puts him in the same tiring race after taking away everything he had to give?

and all the nights i spent fighting bad thoughts in my room, feeling so alone, might as well be on the moon

To sit alone in your thoughts is hard. Especially when you have the kind of thoughts that Gator has. 

To sit alone in your thoughts and reach blindly into the space around you is humiliating. The world feels so much bigger when you can't see the four walls that hold you in. There is no comfort in being home, because there is no difference when the only reason you know you're home is that neither your caretaker or fathers ex-wife has led you out anywhere. 

What does make the difference is the sounds, the scents, and the feel of other people. A hug from Dot, the laugh of one of his buddies from prison over the phone, the smell of oatmeal cookies from his caretaker. 

The touch of someone who loves you. The smell of her perfume. That is what comforts Gator when he can’t see the coziness of a familiar place. 

Or rather, he imagined it would be, if he could ever get that far. 

 i thought i found the antidote with you

And he was right. The night he met you, he knew something was different. 

His caretake had stopped by on a later night to take him grocery shopping. Gator was still getting used to walking in public places (that weren’t the prison) on his own, and honestly, he wasn’t quite comfortable with it yet, so he’d remained in place while his caretaker left to find something on an aisle they’d already passed. You walked passed him and Gator thought he might’ve hallucinated and walked himself over to the bakery with how sweet you smelled.

It felt as though every other sense Gator still clung to had been heightened. He could hear your shoes hit the linoleum floor from across the aisle, like the sound was being played right next to his ear, and even though there was much space between you, his skin was tingling in the way it does after you’ve touched someone that cares about you. 

“Excuse me, could I just grab that really quick?” Your voice was polite, and Gator swears he’s never heard something so clearly before. 

Of course though, he doesn’t know what “that” you’re talking about, and in an effort to move out of your way, he steps directly in front of the box of cookies you has serious plans for later. It draws a laugh out of you that quickly fades once you see the cane sitting in the cart and the covering over his eyes. A very serious apology follows and you place your hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him forward so that you could grab what you needed. 

“I don’t think we’ve met before, but I do think you’re awful cute. Would not knowing what I look like keep you from giving me your number?”

Your confidence almost startles him. The fact that you want his number definitely does. 

Is this what it felt like to finally catch a break?

Of course, Gator gave it to you. The rest was history. 

You were endlessly patient with him, with his growth and his lack of sight. The softness of your relationship was something that Gator never thought he’d ever feel, and he still woke up every morning feeling like it was all a dream.

His confidence was boosted all around. His confidence in himself, but also in his ability to live. 

Losing his vision was something that Gator really thought he’d never be able to adjust to, but you pushed him in such perfect ways that after a while, he didn’t need a caretaker anymore, and he found he could accomplish much more than he initially believed possible. 

You were everything Gator dreamed of finding in his lonely days post-prison. 

but my head is full of poison, and my heart is full of doubt

“Don’t you wish you had a real man?” Gators voice is quiet as he hold you. You’d said your goodnights about five minutes ago, and you’d finally found a comfortable position between his arms, the pillow, and his sheets. 

“I have a real man.” You murmur back, voice laced with a hearty mix of confusion and drowsiness. 

“You know what I mean.” 

You sigh, then turn to face him, your hands settling on his jaw and thumbs tracing over his cheekbones. “No Gator, I don’t know what you mean. You are my man, and you look pretty real to me. Felt pretty real earlier too.” 

Gator lets out a firm huff of air through his nose. “I can’t work, I can’t drive..” he pauses “I don’t even know what your pretty face looks like.” Something in his whisper breaks your heart into enough pieces that you believe you could spend your lifetime trying to put them back together, and you’d still be left with only pieces and shards.

“Gator, where is this coming from? I thought you were feeling good about adjusting? You know I don’t think any less of you because of your vision.” You hum, pressing soft kisses to any part of his face that your lips can reach. You’ve been together long enough now to know that touch is what grounds him in moments like these. 

“You deserve something better this” His voice is as soft as it is when he whispers into your ears in the morning, and something about the duality of the tone makes the situation feel even heavier. 

“No one loves me like you, Alligator. It doesn’t get better than this.” You know that you haven’t convinced him, but he stops fighting you on it, and you count that as a win and fall asleep in his arms. 

Gator never stops feeling like he isn’t enough. He never stops wondering why you aren’t enough to make him stop feeling that way. 

i’ve got toxins in my bloodstream, you tried hard to suck them out, and it feels like medication, and it’s good for me, i’m sure

He can’t see it, but he knows you're exhausted. Tired of dealing with him, tired of the constant reassurance and constant fear that lingers in him. 

It is so unlike Gator to feel so vulnerable with another person, but no matter how much he hates himself for it, he can’t seem to stop the way the words throw themselves out of his mouth. 

“Why do you want me?”

“Am I not too much for you?”

“Don’t you get tired of helping me?”

“Am I enough?” “Am I enough?”

“Am I enough?”

You were tired. But not angry or frustrated, not yet. It just hurt your heart to see the man you loved repeatedly disregard the words of comfort that you told him and choose the lies his brain spewed instead. 

But you tried. You tried really hard, for a really long time, to make him believe you.

but it don’t matter how your love feels anymore

You stopped spending so much time in Gators home. He knew this was the beginning of the end, he was blind, not stupid. 

His doubtful comments were no longer met with soft and delicate words, but rather a sigh and a kiss on the cheek, almost like he’d hit his limit and your comfort was now locked behind a paywall he couldn’t afford. Or rather, locked behind emotional maturity and security he couldn't comprehend. 

This space had Gator thinking, which is never, ever, good.

He thought back to the beginning, when the two of you were still fresh and everything still felt like there was a glittering gold bow on top. He realized that even then, he still felt this way.

He still felt like you were entirely too good for him, and that one day he’d wake up and realize it was all some practical joke. He felt like every time you went out without him you met twenty other men who made you feel much better than Gator ever could. And even then, he felt like every time you came home to him, you regretted your act of charity that day in the grocery store. 

Nothing about the crippling insecurity is new. It was still with him even before he was blind, but manifesting in different ways. 

The only thing that’s new is the way he’s worn you down with it.

Your love has never been the deciding factor. It has never mattered how you love him, Gator ruins the relationship all on his own, just because that’s all he knows how to do. 

why can’t you come stitch me up? why can’t it ever be enough?

He was angry that he couldn’t accept your thoughtful reassurance. Angry that he’d wired himself so poorly growing up that even when presented with the chance of a lifetime, he couldn’t fix himself up enough to just be okay. 

Deep down, Gator knew this would happen, and deep down, he feels like he did it on purpose. He should’ve known that he couldn’t call something as precious as you his own. 

Your love was a lot of things to Gator, but despite his best efforts to make it so,

it’ll never be the cure

There is no cure for him, that is fundamentally who he is.

steve harrington x single mom!reader

a sneak peek into the life you've built with steve harrington

you're a catch!: chapter ten

wc: 682

warnings: pregnancy mention

“Nathan!” you called from the kitchen of Steve’s home, of your home, together. “Breakfast!”

Nathan’s feet don’t stumble down the hallway the same way they used to, but then again, nothing else is like it used to be either. 

When your son finally joins you around the table, Steve is already sitting across from you, enjoying a cup of coffee and flipping through his third baby-name book.

“What about Lucy?” He murmurs after taking a sip.

You laugh softly and turn your attention to Nathan, who is very grumpily making a plate of pancakes in front of you.

“Still mad?” You really don’t mean to laugh, but you can’t help it.

steve harrington x single mom!reader

basically, you finally come to your senses.

you're a catch!: chapter nine

wc: 1k

warnings: mentions of evil father who sucks, suggestive ending

Your memory didn’t serve you as well as you thought it could, but eventually, you did make your way to Steve’s home. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding as you brought your hand to knock on his door, cringing a bit as you caught a glimpse of the slippers adorned on your feet. You do wish you’d taken the few minutes to put on real shoes, but in the moment, it felt as though you needed to get to Steve as soon as possible. 

After a few moments of silence, your lips fell into a small frown before giving another knock, quieter this time. It was getting late; it wouldn’t be a huge shock if he’d already called it a night. I mean, between the time you got home from the bar and the time it took you to actually locate his home, most normal adults would already be in bed. Luckily for you, Steve is a really light sleeper.