ENGINE LOGGED: “WHAT A NORMAL LIFE FOR NOT A NORMAL MAN!” 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃
REGISTERED DRIVER: ambulance driver! steve harrington!
IGNITION REPORT: post hawkins, steve harrington finds a job as an ambulance driver and finds a normalcy in his life; go to work five days a week, then come home to you!
ⓘ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 SYSTEM OVERVIEW: 18+ CONTENT, fem! reader, post-season 5, rough and gentle sex, hair pulling, switch! steve, manwhore steve harrington is here for a minute, praise kink, hand kink, breeding fetish, dirty talk, oral sex (both male and female recieving)!
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who becomes an ambulance driver through a friend of hopper's after hopper suggested him. he didn't want to be a cop, firefighting school was a little too hard for him, he wasn't about to pay for nursing school, so through doing emt training, slight luck (and maybe nepotism?), he found himself a job as an ambulance driver!
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who becomes pretty damn good at his job pretty quick. it helps that driving from interdimensional creatures for some good five years got him pretty equipped with situations where driving fast was needed.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who, with a little shame, falls back on his fuckboy past. being in a city where he didn't worry for demodogs or vecna snapping his limbs; he hooked up with women constantly— preferring the freshly divorced ones that needed an outlet from their ex-husbands but didn't shy away from any type of woman. he enjoyed giving these women pleasure, loved the connection albeit a short one, but never stuck to them for too long. he always paid for their drinks or dinner, drove them home (never allowing them to get an uber) and giving them a little extra pocket change. he's ran through, let's just say that.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who finally decides to lock in and settle down when he meets you about a year and a half after moving and getting the job, actually finding you through this job! you had called 911 after an incident, he came with two other emt's and immediately (other than the patient needing help), you caught his eye instantly and he caught yours, but he wasn't about to get caught eye-fucking you on the job— he got the patient to the hospital and only after clocking out for the night did he return to the place you were at and asked for your number.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who takes date nights very seriously. he never misses a night— somehow, someway, with this boy's busy schedule; he never ever forgets when you two have a date.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who learns his lesson from his other relationships and worships the ground you walk on. he buys you everything you desire, he listens to your every command, he has a patronizing way of submission that you were absolutely obsessed with. he was dominant when he needed to be, but he was more submissive when he was home.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who eats pussy like a god. he's so good at it, he laps over you over and over again, sucking hungrily on your cunt, flicking his tongue so greedily in your folds. he brings you to your orgasm so many times, including his fingers most of the time. he won't get out of your thighs until he's tasted your fourth or fifth orgasm on his tongue.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who has an addiction to morning sex, so much so that he will set an alarm twenty minutes before he actually has to start getting ready for work just to get his daily fill of you. and he's lucky that you love it just as much! the sleepy thrusts, his morning voice as his soft hands don't know where to touch so early in the morning, your fingers tugging on his messy bedhead. it's perfect in his eyes, it's one of the unmovable things in his schedule.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who has a breeding kink and he isn't even shy about it. he loves the idea of starting a family, so when he's balls deep in you, your knees pressed into your boobs and your nails scratching down his forearms, how could he not remain in you? pulling out isn't steve's strong point and he makes sure of it. especially when you're just so encouraging to him, making it near impossible to find the condoms beforehand and begging him to fuck you raw style... it should be expected that he can't hold himself back at the idea of pumping you full, seeing his fluids leak out of you so softly and using his thick fingers to pump it back into your overstimulated cunt. "don't want to waste any." is his favorite phrase as he forces his cum back in you.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who knows you have a thing for his hands. his palms are rough, callous from fighting and from the steering wheel he constantly turns. he knows you love it when he touches you, when his palms press against your skin. he's just bigger than you, and you love that about him.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who loves getting head. he loves yanking on your head, facefucking you after such a bad day on the job, ruining your pretty throat with no care in the world. after a long day of shitty work, he loves getting you down to your knees and using that mouth however he wants.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who also loves getting ruined by you. he loves it when you take control, when you tell him what to do, when you use his cock however you please. he takes it like a good boy, moaning 'mommy' and 'ma'am' like prayers off his lips.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who is really good with kids... it should be very obvious. he's good at comforting kids who are scared even if he's a tiny bit callous at first, but taking care of the little shits back in hawkins (aka max, dustin, mike, erica, and lucas), it taught him a lot how to comfort kids when faced with fear. especially human fear like injury and death.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who has a deadly lingerie fetish. he loves lingerie on you, seeing the lace and seeing the different colors. he literally has a section of his paycheck always sectioned off specifically for lingerie only!
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who undeniably has a praise kink. he loves it when you praise him— even outside of sex. telling him that he's doing a good job and you're proud of him; it's an addicting feeling that he rides so high on.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who loves it when one of his kids come and visit. max usually visits the least but stays the longest, dustin and lucas and erica come by a lot more, and mike is once and a while, but he cherishes each and every single time, he literally has pictures of them framed on the wall! the kids love you too.
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who works graveyard shifts like a motherfucker, especially during the holidays like halloween eve, valentines, and christmas eve; it pays the most and he's willing to take the work to make the holidays with you the best it possibly could!
ambulance driver! steve harrington... who knew he'd marry you a month into dating, and it takes him only two years for him to propose. and when you two marry and he goes to work? he wears his wedding ring on a necklace, so it won't get damaged during work, and when he's at home? that ring ain't ever leaving his finger!
click here for main masterlist! 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃
AUTHOR'S NOTE: steve harrington, my love. my boy. everyone who says this motherfucker would be a cop is WRONG. he is NOT giving cop, he is giving either firefighter, teacher, or a god damn mailman, this mf is NOT giving cop energy, i refuse to believe it.
thank you for all the support in every way possible! all support is very much appreciated! all content created on this blog is mine, do not copy or sent it through ai!
i am seeing djo in t-minus one week! in pittsburgh july 14. i am sosososo excited and nervoussss
i am going off my meds rn! its a couple week process and ill be done literally the day after the djo show lolll. they're ssris and i think that after a while they've done more harm for me nowadays. so im excited to be off!
i am seeing pavement on july 23! also super excited for that :3
recommend an author or fanfic you love
ill do a couple! @insomniacpen ofc, @djopuppy who is also a close twt oomf of mine, and @harringtonsdiary !! dont kiss and tell by harringtonsdiary is one of the best fanfics ive ever read as well!
what will immediately make you click away from a fanfic?
this is suchhhh a hard question. obviously if i can tell they used ai (this has only happened once where i was 100% sure and that's because the writing style and grammar completely changed when it got to smut lollll). i can also usually handle poor grammar and formatting but sometimes its too hard for my brain to understand. a bigggg nono for me esp w smut fics is anything that's too kinky like piss or something lol
🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats
🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?
🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love
🕯️ ⇢ on a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you enjoy editing? why is that?
🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis
🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?
🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love
💌 ⇢ how many unread emails do you have right now?
🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis
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🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character
🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
🦷 ⇢ share some personal wisdom or a life hack you swear on
❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?
🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity
🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh
🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?
🍦 ⇢ name three good things about a character you hate
🥝 ⇢ do you lie a lot? what's the most recent lie you told?
🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately
🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?
🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing
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🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here
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🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them
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🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it
🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?
Can i book in for weekend stay w gator, turndown service, with steak and a buffet?? I'd also love the presidential suite!
(Buffet - known eachother since childhood / highschool, catholic all girls school reader, very prim and proper, "I can't walk through the mud, these boots are couture!" type + teenage dirtbag, rebel gator?)
from insomniac's inn
booking by @s3xytosomeone: 1k, gator, smut, forced proximity, buffet above, enemies to lovers
pairing: gator tillman x fem!reader
summary: during the christmas holidays at your boarding school, you’re the only one who isn’t going home to your family. as luck would have it, there’s one boy from your ‘brother school’ left too. unfortunately, this boy knows just how to drive you up the wall. snowed in and forced to share a miserable room together, what happens when boredom and pent up rage gets the best of you? inspired by the holdovers.
wc: 1.8k
warnings: 18+ mdni, both have bad relationships with parents, kinda brat reader, use of the word bitch from gator, fighting and they're both mean to each other, gator smokes ciggies in this bc i say so, smut, hate sex, unprotected piv sex
a/n: gah!!! teenage dirtbag gator, babe, you have opened my mind and there's no going back.
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The clock ticked loudly.
So loudly.
It was the only thing in the room that filled the silence between you and the boy. He had an unlit cigarette in his mouth, sitting on the end of his bed. You were on the edge of yours, attempting to read a book to distract yourself from the reality of the day. Usually, the fact that a boy and girl are sharing a bedroom would be the biggest scandal to rock both your schools but the administration wanted to use as little facilities as possible for two stragglers. So here you were, trapped in a room with Gator Tillman. On Christmas Day.
“Can you not do that?” You clicked your tongue as he fished his lighter out of his pocket. Without missing a beat, he looked you dead in the eye and placed the flame against the cigarette. It had been going on five days of this. It was bad enough that your parents’ last minute business trip had left you stranded on the Christmas holidays, but of course you had to stuck with someone who was insistent on making life inconvenient for you.
You’d known him, once upon a time, when you lived in Lehigh. Till your parents decided that life there wasn’t right for a girl like you. That you needed to go somewhere proper to support your education. It had been years, but it seemed like Gator had not grown up since he was a little boy. He never made his bed in the mornings, he ate in the bedroom though you were explicitly told not to, mouthed off to the teachers at every chance he got. His worst offence was this though. The smoking indoors, nicotine perpetually lingering in the room. “Move away from me, God, I hate smoking.”
He didn’t say a word, snarled and took an intentionally deep inhale. As he breathed it back out, it was perfectly in the direction of your face. You immediately held your breath but it was too late. The nicotine was rushing down your lungs.You coughed violently — much more violently than you truly needed to.“Jeez can you at least crack a window?”
He scoffed and pointed to the window. Outside, all you could see was snow rolling over the fields. The windows of the surrounding buildings on your campus were barely visible. It was the reason you were stuck like this.
Still, you had to distance yourself in any way you possibly could.
You kicked your favorite boots off, settling them straight against the bed and brought your feet up so you were pushed against the wall. Gator made a small noise of judgement at your moves but you pulled your book in front of your face so you couldn’t see him. It was one you’d already read earlier in the semester, but all you had time to grab when you were informed your parents weren’t picking you up for the holidays and you’d have to vacate your room immediately. It wasn’t even good. Your peace only lasted the briefest moment.
“When d’ya think she’ll be back?” The one supervisor you had had gone out last night for a Christmas Eve party but gotten stuck there because of the snow.
“I don’t know.” You answered, clipped, your eyes landing back to the same sentence you’d been trying to read over for the past few minutes.
He stayed silent for a second, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Don’t ya think it’s kind of unfair? Leavin’ us here while she gets ta go celebrate.”
You shrugged. “It’s Christmas. Someone deserves a good time.”
“Yeah my piece o’ shit stepmom certainly didn’t think I deserved it. Got in my dad’s head that I need t’ spend Christmas learnin’ some lesson ‘bout behaving.” You raised your eyebrows. Long ago, you remembered Roy Tillman and Gator’s actual mom Linda. It was always Roy that had been harsh on the boy ,even at such a young age.
Clearly, that had led nowhere, because here, Gator Tillman’s reputation preceded him. The expulsions from two schools before this one, the suspension he’d already managed here, how his father had once yelled at him in the middle of the hallway in front of all the boys.
“Oh, they didn’t want to show off their super senior son at family dinner? Bummer.”
Gator clicked his tongue. “I remember how your mommy and daddy love money more than their own daughter. Don’t act like you’ve got it better than me, princess.”
It cut. Deeper than it was meant to. “My parents actually provide for me, unlike you.”
“Fuck are you talkin’ about?”
You gave up on your book tossing it to your side and crossing your arms in front of you. “I assume you got into school on some sort of pity scholarship. Your parents must’ve cut you off from the Tillman fund or else you wouldn’t be dressed like…that.” You pointed to his cargos.
“Oh, so those fancy clothes buy your affection, huh? That’s why you expect everyone else to do whatever you ask.” You simply shrugged. It was better than whatever deal he had going on. “You look like you’re still in school uniform. What, your parents don’t give ya enough love so you gotta find it from your teachers?”
Your stomach twisted. “Fuck you.”
Gator snorted. “Look at that! Princess knows how to cuss.” He smiled like he was proud of himself for getting on your nerves, smoke covering his face. You would have to see this pretentious, arrogant, irritating face for another weeks. Another week of absolute misery. “Parents ship ya outta Lehigh so they don't have to deal with you anymore and suddenly, you think you're hot shit. So tell me then, what’s your favorite piece of love?” He pointed at you with the cigarette. “That tight shirt?”
“Shut up.”
“Or is it that short, little skirt?”
“You’re the worst.”
“Or is it those shiny leather boots? Let ya step on anyone you want.”
“Just put out your stupid cigarette and let me read my book!” You snapped, your usually quiet voice echoing out of the room and down the hall. Big mistake.
Gator’s eyes followed where his finger was pointing at those boots. He smirked. “Alright. Whatever you want, princess.” He launched forward so quickly it made your heart leap out of your chest. The next thing you knew, one of your boots was in his hand.
“No!” You shrieked, jumping off the bed as he took a step back. He dangled it above your head with one hand, his cigarette it in the other. “Gator don’t you dare, those were expensive.”
“What’s the problem, princess? Daddy can’t buy you another?” He inched the cigarette closer and your heart stops.
“Give it back.” You reached for it and he yanked it even higher in the air. “I’m serious, give it back!” You jumped and he pulled it away again. The cigarette moved closer, the smile on Gator’s face only growing bigger. “If you do it, I will kill you!”
“Oh, will ya?” You should’ve known to challenge an obviously stubborn boy.
“No- Noo!” But it was too late, Gator was crushing the stub into the Italian leather, a horrifying sizzling sound filling the air.
You’d never seen someone as happy as he was at your misery. And your devastation was immediately replaced with pure anger. “You’re the worst!” You screamed, somewhere deep in the chest. “I hate you.” You shoved him and he stumbled back to the corner of the room in shock. “I hate you and your stupid cigarettes.” You lurched forward, trying to snatch them out of the pocket of his pants. Ruin the one good thing he had just like he had ruined yours.
“What are you-” He tried to twist away but your hand was stuck in his pocket and you moved with him.
His legs twisted with yours and the next thing you knew you were both on the floor. He was sat against the wall, your body on top of his and your face falling straight into his neck. And as you pulled back, both of you trying to catch your breaths, your lips brushed. You would have liked to chalk it up to a week worth of boredom caught up to you, or adrenaline pumping through your veins, certainly a physical closeness you weren’t often granted in a boarding school with a roommate. One moment you were looking into his eyes and he was looking into yours and the next, your lips were smashing into each other.
He tasted of smoke but you couldn’t care too much when he was so good at kissing. It was desperate, both of you with a singular shared goal evident in the way your bodies were involuntarily grinding against each other. He tugged at your hair lightly, so his lips could trail down your neck, eliciting soft moans from you. Eagerly, you reached the button of his pants, unbuttoning it with needy hands. “Knew we’d end up here somehow.” He growled against your neck as you did.
“Cause you’re a sex crazed pig.” You pressed your lips back to his, licking into him as you palmed him through thin fabric.
He groaned low in his throat. “And you’re a stuck up, prissy bitch. Always have been.” His hand glided up your torso, fisting into the fabric of your shirt. In one movement, he pulled and the whole thing was ripped. You were mad, yes, but as he trailed his lips along your collarbone that feeling was mixed with something else. Something needy.
“I fucking hate you.” You grunted, pulling him out of his boxers — already hard and aching.
“Do ya now, princess?” He smirked against your lips. And without warning two fingers were pushing your underwear to the side and sliding into you with no warning. The sound it made was beyond obscene. He curled his fingers making you whimper into his mouth. “Doesn’t feel like it.” You silenced him by pulling his wrist away and pressing your lips to his again, sinking down on him instead.
There was no restraint. The moment he entered you, his hips were snapping into yours like a rabid dog. So were yours. Your lewd moans filled the room and likely echoed down the halls.
Suddenly, you were grateful for the lack of people. As your tongue tackled his and your stomach twisted with delight, maybe the halls began to feel a little less empty. And fuck it, if it didn’t feel good. Filling you up just right and hitting you in that spot that made you see stars. You threw your head back, your high approaching all too fast. “You look so much better when you shut up.” Gator groaned as he sucked marks into your neck. You weren’t sure how you were going to explain that one to your supervisor.
“I can…tolerate you like this.” Though the sounds you let out between your words said a lot more than that.
“Tolerate?” Gator spat, his hands tightening at your hips. He drove you down again and again, hitting you so deep your were gripping to his biceps for stability. You felt your thighs shaking as you slipped a hand between your bodies. He was close too, sweat lining his face despite the weather as he concentrated on bringing you to your high. He broke first, and then you shattered. You fell forward, biting his shoulder as your body convulsed with the intensity of it. He replaced your fingers, swiping harshly as he coaxed your orgasm for a little longer. “How’s that for tolerate, princess?”
You didn’t answer, just caught your breath as you held onto him for a second longer.
Even if it was with the worst person on Earth, at least it was a warm body during a very cold winter for you both.
my neighbour the dog sitter | neighbour!teacake x reader
ellie, your two year old bernese was your pride and joy and you really only trusted a few select people to look after her. so when your sister cancelled on you last minute to dog sit for you while you were away with your friends for the weekend, you couldn’t help but panic. you didn’t know who else to ask.
but then—as you were panicking about the situation to your stupidly hot neighbour teacake in the elevator two days before your trip to colorado—he had offered to look after ellie for you.
“really?” you ask him, trying hard not to smile or seem too eager. “you wouldn’t mind? i mean—she’s a lot—”
“—no, i love dogs!” teacake insists. “especially ellie. she’s a really good dog. i’d love to look after her. would give me an excuse to get out the apartment this weekend. does she like long walks? i could take her on that hike trail nearby. get her some doggy ice cream or maybe find a lake and—”
he stops, his ears turning red as he looks at you. the elevator dings and you walk out together.
“—i mean, if you’re okay with me taking care of her. i understand if you—if you’d rather someone else. maybe one of those professional dog sitters. probably more sensible than me.”
something tugged on your heart strings at that. you know teacake had a criminal record, knew he had been to prison and you knew people found it difficult to trust him. despite the fact the man was something akin to a giant teddy bear, people couldn’t see past the worst mistake he had ever made.
“no, i—i actually would really appreciate it if you did,” you say with a kind, encouraging smile. “she trusts you and i do too.”
you can tell your words mean a lot to him but he plays it cool, despite the fact his cheeks were now the same shade of red as the tips of his ears.
“cool,” teacake says with a small smile as you reach your apartment door. “cool. let me give you my number so I can um, text you updates and stuff and you know—any um, emergencies that come up. not that there will be an emergency because i’ll be taking such good care of her but—”
you bite back a smile as you hold out your phone for him to type in his number to stop him rambling.
and that weekend—you get a new photo of ellie maybe every thirty minutes. but you didn’t mind, not when it was your hot neighbour sending them to you.
booking by anon & @lacyiris: >1k, teacake, fluff, smut, forced proximity, fake dating, friends to lovers
pairing: travis 'teacake' meacham x fem! reader
summary: trying to prove to his parents that he’s getting his life together, teacake asks you — his best friend — to come along to family dinner and pretend to be his girlfriend.
wc: 3.4k
warnings: 18+mdni, nothing much tbh, mentions of prison, teacake's family may be not accurate to book teacake's lore i have no idea, self deprecating teacake, smut, dry humping
a/n: oh my god, still in shock that ppl even read my work let alone that i could be someone's fave writer what?? love your idea anon and as for @lacyiris i just want to say a huge thank you for always hyping me and commenting on my posts and stuff. i always get excited when u interact w my stuff!! this was a delight to write and i serious need to write for travis more often my babyyyyy.
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You knew you shouldn’t help.
You had chronic problem of always bending to people’s commands.
But it was your best friend.
And he was sitting there at your dining table with those big eyes, pleading.
“I swear, it’s only for a few hours. And look, I know three of me can be a little much so if you get sick of us you can just…Eek.” He held his hand out, mimicking a car peeling away as he made the high pitched noise. Like every time you hung out with Teacake, you found yourself smiling way too hard at this man’s stupid jokes. You loved him, spent everyday with him, thought about messaging him at literally any minor inconvenience in your life, and he always found a way to cheer you up.If anything, he knew your chronic problem of helping too much all too well. That’s how he ended up in this situation.
You owed him didn’t you?
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At exactly 5pm the next day, a clean shaven Teacake arrived at your door, and you weren’t even ready. His parents’ house was an hour away and even though you only had to be there at 7, he was clearly anxious about the whole thing.
Well, he had to be to ask you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Things with his parents were a little strained and this was the first time he was seeing them since his prison stint. He needed everything in his arsenal to impress them and apparently him dating “good people” was sure to help with that.
“Hiya.” He did his best to smile when you opened the door, but you could see he was practically shaking.
Your eyes immediately blew wide as you observed his outfit. “Tea, I love you, but that’s what you’re wearing?” He looked down to himself. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a long sleeve under a tee. That was all fine. The problem was the jacket he was wearing on top — a black zip up with the little white logo to Atchison Storage on the front.
“Well I thought…” He scratched his head. “Thought I could prove to ‘em I had a job.”
You chuckled, pulling him inside. “Think they’ll believe you if you just tell them. C’mon.”
You guided him to your bedroom, which looked like it had be ransacked with the amount of clothes everywhere. Teacake’s arrival had ironically interrupted your own crisis about what to wear tonight, knowing very little about the Meachams and what they cared about. “Woah.” Teacake chuckled, observing the mess as you headed straight for your closet.
“Yeah, you’re not the only one having a hard time with what to wear.” You said, sorting through the section of your closet that you’d deemed ‘Teacake’s corner.’ Working night shifts left him constantly exhausted, and your house was so close to the storage facility that between work and hanging out with you, he tended to crash here a lot. Teacake being Teacake somehow managed to always leave some item of clothing behind, and every time you texted him he would say “Oh, I’ll get it next time I’m over.” Next time he was over, the two of you would be so caught up in your conversation that the thought would escape your minds. So slowly, a collection started gathering in your closet. You fished out one of the jackets he’d left at your house almost a year ago now and turned to where he was sitting on the bed, absentmindedly sorting through your clothes.
“Here.” You both said in unison, holding out a piece of clothing to the other. Both of you couldn’t help but laugh as you took what the other gave you.
Teacake had handed you a dress that you hadn’t worn in so long, you honestly forgot you owned it. You really were going to have to do some spring cleaning, you thought. “Always like when you wear that.” Teacake pulled his jacket on, the awkward compliment hanging in the air.
Ok, maybe you could keep this dress though.
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“Do I look ok?” Teacake turned to you, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the two of you stood on his parents’ front porch. You did a once over of him and nodded. “Are ya sure? Maybe my hair’s-”
“Dude.” You grabbed his hands where he was trying to fix up his hair. “It’s gonna be just fine. Just breathe.” You gave his hands a small squeeze in reassurance and he stilled a little bit.
“Just fine?” He muttered.
“Just fine.”
To that, he gave you a small smile, and turned to the door. “Ok.” And with a deep breath, he reached forward, knocking on the door.
Inside, the living room went quiet. Then, there was the shuffling of bodies. Through the warped glass of the door, you saw two figures arrive. The whole process was making you just as nervous as Teacake.
And yet, the moment the door opened, you were greeted with two of the biggest smiles ever.
“Travis!” His mother greeted, arms around the boy, pulling him into a tight hug. “Oh honey, have you been eating enough? You need some meat on these bones.” Before he could even respond, she was moving onto hugging you. “Oh, you must be the girl he’s been telling us about.” She pulled back to take you in. “Just as pretty as he always said.”
“Oh! Thank-” Another pair of arms were around you before you could finish your sentence. Teacake’s father gave you a hug so familiar, you began to question if you had somehow met before and you just couldn’t remember.
“What’s this?” He asked, pointing to the small gift bag in your hand as he pulled back.
“Just a small somethin’.” You handed them the bag, containing the ice cream and biscuits you’d bought for them. Your own parents had taught you the life long rule of ‘Never go to someone’s house empty handed,’ and it always paid off. You watched as they smiled and thanked you with far too much gratefulness for something so small, ushering the two of you inside the house. As you stepped, Teacake reached for your hand again, giving it another squeeze. You immediately squeezed back.
If you thought Teacake talked too much (you didn’t, you loved hearing him talk), then his parents were a whole other story.
From the moment, you entered they were rushing questions in your direction and responding to your answers with equally long tangents to the ones you were used to from the man sitting next to you. It was never rude, just excited. What was Teacake’s job like? What was yours? How on earth did you two find time to be together with your work schedules? When did you meet? How? And the list when on and on and on. You did your best to answer, and despite the fact that you were here based on a complete lie, never once did you have to lie when answering any of their questions. You and Teacake where in each other’s lives so much, you may as well have been dating.
You dropped your fork the moment the thought struck you.
“You ok?” Teacake immediately turned, eyebrows threading together in concern. You shook your head, ducking under the table to grab it. You paused, willing yourself to get your shit together and not think such stupid thoughts. Before you could get yourself up again, Teacake was ducking under the table after you. “You sure you’re good?” He whispered.
“Yeah, yeah, just a little clumsy.” You chuckled.
Teacake didn’t seem to believe you but nodded anyway. “Remember…” He imitated the car peeling away again and you had to smile. “Love ya for helping me with this, by the way.”
Your smile flickered onto your face. “Love you too.”
The rest of the night went smoothly, if not for that thought popping up in your head every so often, but you shoved it down, instead watching as Teacake nervously explained how hard he was working to keep his new place and you nodded along proudly. Again, not a single bit of that was fake. As the plates began to empty, you felt relief washing over you, sure that you would soon be in the clear to forget this whole night, but that was not the case.
As Mrs Meacham talked about the first apartment she ever lived in, you couldn’t stop the yawn that slipped out. “Oh, sorry, we boring you, dear? Know we can talk a little too much.” Mrs Meacham chuckled awkwardly.
“No! No, nothing like that.” You immediately jumped in your seat. “Just tired.” Pretending to be Teacake’s girlfriend was a lot more exhausting than you thought it would be and you weren’t quite sure why.
“Well, why don’t you two stay over tonight?” Mr Meacham chimed in. You almost choked on your food. “You came all this way, it’s late. Travis’ room still has the bed.”
This time, Teacake choked. “No, Dad, we don’t wanna be a bother. If we stay then you got to clean the room, and we don’t even have clothes to change into.”
“Oh, it’s nothing!” Mrs Meacham was pushing out of her chair before you could protest. “Let me go check everything’s ready.”
Your heart began to pound. Spending the night. In Teacake’s childhood room. Together. Yeah, he was your best friend but this seemed like a crossing a line you weren’t ready to cross. Well by the look on Teacake’s face, he certainly wasn’t. You ignored the way your face was warming up, turning to Mr Meacham. “Seriously, there’s no-”
“Honey, we’re not ignorant. It’s ok if you two share a bed. Just no funny business.” He winked with a small chuckle.
“Ha-ha!” Teacake laughed, way too loud and way too awkward. You meekly joined though there was nothing funny about the situation. You wanted to die right then and there.
.✦ ݁˖𑣲⋆
You and Teacake stared at the double bed in front of you, lost on your next move.
Yeah, he had slept over at yours plenty of times, but that was on the couch or on your bed if you weren’t home. Sure, sometimes when you crawled into your sheets after he’d stayed over, you would smell his cheap cologne and imagine sleeping next to him but that was just your wild imagination. And maybe-
“I can take the floor. Not that different to a prison bed.” He was already lying down before you could protest. “Hey! Actually, this is comfier than the prison bunks.” He ran his hand down the plush carpet like he was in heaven. You hated remembering how rough he had it in there, all for something he didn’t even want to do. You remembered visiting him in that jail — the way his eyes were all sunken, and he didn’t speak nearly as much as your Teacake did. You looked at your friend now, lively energy back as he rambled about how he only knew what the bottom bunk felt like and maybe the top one was better and so on and so forth. He had his spark back.
You stepped over to him, reaching out your arm. “You’re not sleeping on the floor. There’s plenty of space for both of us.” You saw his face melt a little, like he wasn’t used to being afforded little niceties like that. He reached out, taking hold of your arm. You felt your heart leap out of your chest when you saw the way his veins were defined along his snake tattoo as he gripped onto you. So distracted by the sight, you didn’t even realize that Teacake wasn’t trying to stand up until it was too late.
He looked at you — a devious smirk on his face — and pulled.
“Teacake!” You yelped as you fell forward, landing practically on top of him. Your nose bumped his chin as you tried to straighten yourself. And for a moment, you paused — your body hovering above his, face so close you could feel his breath. One tiny movement and you could k-
“Everything ok?” Mrs Meacham’s voice called from the living room, slicing through the tension. You slid off him but when you went to stand, his arm gripped tight to yours, keeping you on the ground.
“Yeah, Mom! All good!” He shouted back, acting like you weren’t basically cuddling on the floor of his childhood bedroom.
He turned his attention back to you, in a look that almost said “Where were we?” But you had to be dreaming. You blinked your eyes, pushing the thought back. “Your parents are really nice, Teacake.” You observed, still confused as to why he’d even invited you here. The way he was nervous, you imagined that they were a couple of judgemental assholes.
Teacake sighed. “Yeah. Sometimes I think they’re too nice.”
You noticed the way he ducked his head, the bleach blonde strands falling in front of his eyes so you couldn’t see them properly. “What do you mean?”
“I just think about all the shit they did f’ me. Like, when I was little too, I’d get into so much trouble, and they would always tell me they just wanted me to do better and shit.” It sounded sweet, but his distant eyes told you otherwise. “And after all that, I still manage to end up in prison cause of fuckin’ Hazy Davy.”
“Hazy Davy’s an idiot.” You reminded him, anger bubbling in your veins at just the mention of the name that got him into this mess.
“Yeah, well I’m the idiot for doing what he asked. I can do what everyone else in the world wants me to but not what my parents want.” You could see how much the guilt was eating him alive. It must’ve been for a long time. “I know they love me but they kind of have to right? Then I went and did that and they didn’t visit me in prison. I don’t blame them either. Who would want to see their disappointment of a son rottin’ in a jail cell?”
“Travis…” Your heart broke hearing him talk about himself like that. Whenever you were in a bad mood, Teacake always noticed instantly and cheered you up like that. You couldn’t believe you had no idea he’d been thinking this way about himself for who knows how long and you had nothing.
“Fuck, man. I just wanted to prove to them I had my shit together but, I’m not sure I'll ever be able to make up for that.” You chewed your lip, trying to find the right words to comfort him. But you had nothing. No words could express how sorry you were, or make him see how wrong he was about all of it. He made a mistake, but that didn’t define who he was. No, to you, Travis Meacham was anything but that night and that robbery. He was the long drives to nowhere in particular so you’d have an excuse to talk. The times you’d casually accompany each other to mundane chores for the sake of it. The night of your birthday, skipping work to bring you shitty takeout and do bad karaoke. That corner in your closet reserved just for him. That corner in your mind too. Travis Meacham was the greatest source of sunshine in your life, and nothing — not even the actual sun — could beat him. But you didn’t exactly know how to say at all that.
So you kissed him.
Teacake made a small noise of surprise against your lips, but just as quickly, melted. His hands came to your cheeks, lips moving against yours with a perfect familiarity as if you’d done this before. In your mind, you had. He held onto you with a firm grip, like this moment would vanish the second you moved. But you both knew this wasn’t something to forget. Finally, you broke away for air.
Teacake blinked, in total shock. “Holy shit, dude- I mean, not dude. Uh, what do I- Wait, was that like some spur of the moment pity kiss or…”
“No, dude.”
You saw the tension in his body relax a little, his lopsided smile replacing the shock. He let out a disbelieving laugh. “I didn’t want to uh…ruin what we had.” He gently stroked his thumb where it was still on your cheek. “But shit, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.”
“I think I have some idea.” You admitted, and his eyes blew wide.
“Really? You were waiting…for me?”
You snorted. God, he really could be an idiot sometimes. “Yeah, for you!” You swatted lightly at his chest. He smiled again, a full one this time, and pulled your lips back to his.
As they connected yet again, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. No more skirting around feelings and keeping the things you most wanted to say at bay. You could actually show the boy you loved how much you loved him. Teacake was just as eager, the kiss quickly growing deeper as his fingers danced and along your body. The desperation in you was growing as he slid one hand along your thigh, under the hem of your dress.
“Tea…” You breathed as his lips latched onto your neck. “Here?”
“Wish I could be patient.” He pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him. “But I’ve waited so goddamn long for this.” He sighed, his fingers tracing up the sides of your dress. As his palm came to cup your breast, you let out an airy breath.
“What if your parents hear?”
“Don’t have to do everything.” He continued mouthing at your ear, one hand sliding down to your hip, which was already wriggling impatiently. “Just need a taste o’ ya.” He guided your movement, dragging you slowly against his growing bulge. “Like now.” You did too, so you purposely ground yourself down on him, the friction causing you to let out a soft moan. Teacake lightly slapped a palm over your mouth. “Know I’m the only that usually needs held staying quiet but-” You rolled your hips against him again and his own moan cut off his words.
You slammed your lips into his, pulling him as close to you as possible as you set an intentional rhythm. It wasn’t slow or careful, just years of desperate buildup that had left you wanting as much as you could get tonight. You pulled away to kiss down his neck in soft little marks. “Why don’t we both agree to shut up?” You whispered into his skin.
“Alright, yeah.” He sighed, rutting his hips up into you. The sudden movement made you gasp. “But when I get you in my own bed…” He palmed at your breast again, pressing kisses over the skin exposed by your dress. “We’re gonna be so fucking loud.” You shuddered at the thought of the two of you together, finally.
“Travis…” You whined, the pace of your hips getting faster, the feeling of the rough denim through the cotton all too good. But not enough. “Need you so fucking bad.”
“Me too, baby. Me…too.” He was becoming a total mess, and honestly so were you. You had to hold back tonight and it was making everything worse and better at the same time. “Swear you make me a fucking mess.” The words made your stomach coil tighter as you gripped onto him tighter. “Had so many dreams of us doing this. Well, not this but-”
“Tea, I’m gonna-”
“Yeah, come on. Come for me, baby.” He squeezed your hips, encouraging as you chased your high.
It hit, and you buried your sounds of satisfaction into his neck as best as you could. Travis rutted his hips into you a few more times and then he was following right after, doing everything in his power not to be loud. You stayed there, his arms wrapped around your back, your head buried in his skin. Just breathing. The night had been one that was long overdue, and you were glad to confront the feelings that had been brewing in you for a long time.
“Travis…” You pulled back, so you could look him in the eye. “You know I love you right?”
He stared at you, confused why you were so seriously stating the thing you said to him almost everyday. “Yeah, ‘course I know-”
“No I don't mean ‘you’re my best friend, I love you,’ I mean I love love you.”
Teacake’s smile grew slowly over his face, as he brushed his fingers gently over your lips. He leaned in, the kiss a sweet promise pecked onto your lips.
booking by anon & @wolfiee10: 1- >1k, gator, fluff, smut, forced proximity, fake dating, enemies to lovers
pairing: gator tillman x fem!reader
summary: gator's sick of his father telling him to settle down, so to have a date to his father's wedding, he goes to the person he hates the most, because roy loves you.
wc: 4.2k
warnings: 18+mdni,smut, unprotected piv sex (tsk tsk), gator was kind of a bully, known each other since hs, snowstorm except i've seen snow once in my life before so it may be innacurate asf, reader and gator probs one or two years out of high school
a/n: hello my beauitfuls!!! thank you thank you thank you so much i love youuuuu 💗 got a bit carried away with this one (again) sorry 😅 but i hope we like it.
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
There were many places Gator Tillman wanted to be right now. In the sheriff’s department, shoving a criminal behind bars while his coworkers watched in awe, at the quarry, drinking beers with his boys as they laughed about absolutely nothing, in the backseat of his truck with a girl underneath him that screamed his name like there was no tomorrow.
The list was extensive, but nowhere, nowhere on it was here — on your front porch, watching in silence as you double over laughing so hard that you had to hold onto the doorframe for support.
The sound was horrifying. So grating. So damn irritating. Just like the rest of you. And he just had to stand there shivering while you yucked it up, his only anchor the grinding of his teeth so he didn’t scream at you.
Jeez, he would’ve done anything to not be in this situation. But his dad had a wedding coming up and the past few months had been filled with the endless barrage of questions from family and townsfolk all the same. “So when are you gonna find your own little bride?” “Gettin’ to that age now where you gotta start thinking of a family.” “If you start now, you’ll have plenty of chances for good kids in the future.” It was the lasts one that got to him the most. Good kids. He was meant to be that for Roy. So he had to find someone to satiate the town’s never-ending hunger. And unfortunately, you were Roy’s top pick. Ever since high school, Roy had been bothering Gator about you. The golden girl. Sweet, doting, quiet.
In front of him maybe.
Gator saw the real you. You weren’t sweet, or doting and certainly not quiet. You were this — rude, degrading, and unabashedly loud. Loud wasn’t the right word. Deafening. In your insults and your eye rolls and the stupid fucking laugh that was still going.
“I’m sorry. I-” You giggled again. “Sorry, sorry- Just- Pfft- You want me to be your date to Roy’s wedding?”
Gator sighed, hearing the words repeated back to him. A week from now, he was going to have to spend a whole day in hell, pretending that you two were - barf - in love.
He shook his head. “Not just my date-”
“Oh right, you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend.”
He stared down at his boots, kicking the puddle of melted snow on your porch. “Fi-fiancé, actually.” He felt the pink rush to his cheeks. Since when was he shy to talk to you?
“Fiancé?” You stoped entirely, all amusement draining from your face. “Why?” He explained the whole situation to you. And you listened. Didn’t make any snarky comments and tried with all your might not to make judgy faces either.
“Look, it’s only a few hours, nobody there really knows ya so just pretend. You’re really good at that aren’t you?”
You raised your eyebrows, stepping slightly inside because the cold was getting to you. “What is that meant to mean?”
Somehow, right before he opened his mouth to start ripping into you, he remembered that you were his only shot at having peace next week. He bit back all the insults. “Please. Just one day. Free food, pretty dress.” He had nothing else to offer you.
You scanned him up and down, and he was all to aware of the desperation oozing off of him. It was humiliating, but he was hoping maybe you’d take pity on his sorry ass. You straightened your posture, the tiniest smile on your face. “Well, where’s my ring, then?” Gator blinked at you in disbelief but you only just put your hand on your hip.
“If I’m gonna be your fiancé, I need a ring don’t I?”
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
The dreaded day came quicker than Gator could have imagined.
He knew he was fucked from the moment he woke up. The winter air nipped at his skin as he forced himself out of bed, warning him to just stay there. As he splashed his face with freezing cold water to wake himself up, the fuss downstairs made a pit grow in his stomach. This was his father’s third wedding. After today, there’d be another stranger in his house. In a few months, kids, if Roy had his way. More people that Roy could compare Gator too. More people that would probably be gone soon enough.
Today, Gator had to smile and pretend that this was exactly what he wanted. And he had to do it with you on his arm.
The morning was spent driving back and forth from the church, dropping off chairs, flowers and everything in between. As the hours passed outside, the snow and wind were picking up, making the driver harder each time. Who the hell had a wedding in the middle of winter in North Dakota? Occasionally, he’d hear someone calling to ask if the wedding was canceled, but the response from Karen was always the same: “We’re not going to let a little snow stop us from the best day of our lives.”
It was about to be the worst day of his.
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
By the time he reached your house, he could barely see anything through the white snowflakes pelting down at an incomprehensible rate.
He couldn’t tell whether the curling feeling in his gut was from the inconvenience this snow caused or the fact that this was it. The rest of the day would be spent with the person he hated most in the world playing make-believe that you were his fiancé. He would rather spend the rest of his life alone than that.
He took a deep breath, composing himself before honking the horn to call you out. One minute passed. Then two. He glanced to the window and couldn’t see any movement inside. With a huff, he pressed his hand to the horn again, longer this time, just willing you out. After about another minute, the front door flew open.
Gator went still.
You walked over, wearing a gorgeous floor length dress; modest enough that people wouldn’t talk but still showing off all your best features. You always were good at toeing that line to make all the parents and kids love you. Except with Gator. But right now, he wasn’t thinking about that as he watched you strut down your driveway, the flowy fabric dancing with your movements, and your hair and makeup done perfectly. You almost looked like a normal girl.
But as soon as you entered his car, Gator remembered exactly who you were.
“Don’t even have the decency to pick me up from the front door, asshole?” You grunted, collecting the fabric of your dress so it didn’t get stuck in the door.
“Would ya hurry up?” He grunted.
You simply took a deep breath, shutting the door behind you. “Let’s not fight, honey.” You said, the sweet sarcasm oozing off your voice. “It is a happy day after all.” Gator ignored your comment — and the strange feeling that nickname was brewing in his stomach — instead, reaching over you to open the glovebox. “What are you-”
His hand wrapped around the small metal item, holding it out to you. “Here.”
Your pupils blew wide, observing the ring pinched between his thumb and forefinger. You didn’t move for a long moment, and Gator’s patience was already running thin. He sighed, grabbing your left hand and sliding it on your finger. Even as he turned the engine back on and you drove down the street, you didn’t say a word for a long time. Finally, as you were turning towards the ranch, you spoke.
“Did you actually-”
“Relax, I’m not drainin’ my life savings for one miserable day.” His eyes darted back to the road, the next words fighting to push past his lips. “It’s my mom’s.” His teeth ground together, anticipating some sort of teasing from you. But you only said one thing.
“It’s really nice, Gator.”
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
The chapel was already buzzing when they pulled up — townspeople and mostly family filling the pews. As you and Gator stepped inside, all eyes shot to you. Immediately, his hand shot behind him to clasp yours. To show that you were a couple, of course. He pulled you to the side and sped down the aisle, one goal in mind. Getting his dad to see you. Before he could reach the room where he knew his father was waiting, someone popped up.
“Gator, hon! How are you?” He squinted for a moment, trying to figure out who this woman was. Relative? Aunt?
“Uh-” He blinked, temporarily forgetting how to be a human. “Good. Really…good.” He tried.
The woman’s attention immediately drifted to you. The only reason why she was even talking to Gator, really. “Who’s this?”
Gator sputtered out your name, shifting so you could step in front of him. “My fiancé.” He choked out. The woman’s eyebrows shot up and Gator got the feeling that the idea of that was just as hypothetical to all these nosy relatives as it was to him.
“Well when did this happen?” He felt like he couldn’t get his words out. But lucky for him, you were one step ahead.
“One week ago! Proposed during dinner, it was so sweet.” You squeaked, all fake happiness. God, you were a painfully good actor.
“Oh, honey that’s beautiful! I didn’t even know you were with someone Gator.” Again, he couldn’t respond.
“We’ve been keeping it quiet.” You smiled. “Didn’t want to put a jinx on it.”
“Well, soon enough it’ll be you two here, huh?”
The image flashed in his mind instantly. Him at the end of the aisle, you walking down, your face peeking through the veil.
“Oh look at that, he’s already blushing at the thought of it.” The woman cooed. Gator was all to aware of the way your eyes darted toward him. Both of your eyes stayed stuck to him, waiting for something to escape his throat. The thing that finally got him to do so was a little squeeze of his hand from where the two of you were still connected.
“Oh, yeah. So excited.” He awkwardly raised your hand to his mouth, pressing a soft peck there. The moment he set it back down, your hand ripped out of his. He cleared his throat. “Well, better go see the old man before they tie the knot.”
And finally the woman set them free.
As they turned out of the main hall to a room on the side, you leaned in and whispered. “You gonna freeze up like that in front of your dad, too?” Gator only growled in response, pausing in front of the room where he could hear Roy on the other side. But just as Gator was reaching out for the door, someone else rushed up to him. Karen. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy like she’d been crying and the veil fell behind her in a mess. “Gator, come here.” With a terrified glance to Roy’s door, she dragged Gator (and consequently, you) down the hall. “They’re-They’re gone! I looked everywhere and-”
“Karen what?”
“The rings!” Karen was suddenly very aware of her volume, her voice coming back down to a whisper. “I can’t find the rings. How are we going to get married without them? Roy’s gonna be so mad.”
“Ok, ok, slow down.” You chimed in and Gator was beyond glad. He never was good at solving problems with anything other than his fists.
Karen paused, scanning you up and down. “Who are you?”
“I’m…” You breathed. “Gator’s fiancé.” Before Karen could react to that statement, you were cutting her off. “Now, what’s happening with these rings?”
“I had them tucked away safely in the box. I even double checked them last night.”
You nodded, calmer than ever. “Where did you put that box?”
Karen’s face contorted into the meanest scowl Gator had ever seen, and suddenly, she was grabbing you by the shirt and pulling you close to her face. “You think I’d be panickin’ if I knew?”
Gator saw a flash of shock on your face but it disappeared just as fast. “Is it in the chapel, you think?”
Somehow, your gentle energy exuded onto Karen and she let go. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”
“That’s ok. So…it’s probably at the house then!” Maybe Gator was starting to see all that sweetness his father was always on about. But it only made him more bitter that he didn’t receive the same treatment. Never had. “Any idea what room?”
“I already told you-”
“Ok.” Gator stepped between you two before Karen could blow her lid again.
“We’ll go check the house then.” You offered. Gator was about to protest, knowing he didn’t want to spend another second in that frustrating snow, even if it was just going up to the house and back. And then you two would have to search the whole house for a tiny box, and oh, God, he hadn’t even done the thing he brought you hear to do. But before he could say any of that, you were slipping your hand back into his and blinking up at him. “Gator, honey, we can do that right?"
“Sure thing.” He didn’t hesitate to respond. Fuck, what a pretty girl could do to him. He caught it as soon as he thought it. You? Pretty? Surely not. But as you led him out of the church, his eyes would not stop dragging over your figure, and the way your hair was styled perfectly, and when you glanced over your shoulder to check he was still there, he suddenly noticed how nice your eyes were.
As he stepped outside, the ice cold air slammed into him, crashing him back into this reality.
He didn’t like you. He wasn’t clinically insane. He squinted his eyes, trying to find his car in the oncoming pouring of white snow. It was getting damn difficult to do anything. One gust of wind and they weren’t going to be able to move.
And that’s exactly what happened less than an hour later.
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
You’d been scouring the house for thirty minutes now — every room, every drawer, every damn corner.
“Where the hell is this thing?” Gator called after searching his dad’s study for the third time.
“I swear, it has to be here!” You sighed in equal frustration, flopping down the steps.
“Fucking hell, why’d you volunteer us to do this?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, avoiding eye contact where you met in the kitchen. “They’re probably in there waitin’ on us and now it’s on my ass to find it! Dad’s gonna kill me.”
“Well, I don’t know maybe we can give them this?” You pointed to the ring on your finger.
“Are you crazy?” He immediately yanked it off your finger, the protectiveness rushing through his body. He pretended it was for rational reasons. “They’re gonna do the ceremony with one ring and it’s his ex-wife’s?” He leaned in.
“Well, I don’t know! At least I’m trying to come up with solutions unlike you!” You pressed a finger to his chest, pushing him back a bit.
“Yeah, damn stupid ones! I don’t even know why I invited you here, you’re getting me into more trouble than you’re worth!”
“Fuck you, Gator. I’m leaving.”
“Go!” You spun on your heel, speeding for the door.
The second you threw it open though, the energy in the room shifted. So did the temperature. In front of you was nothing but solid white, your body already waving at the speed of the wind. The two of you had been so caught up in your search that you hadn’t realized the snowstorm outside. You glanced over your shoulder to him yet again, considering whether it was better to be with the storm here or out there. The frown on your face told him your answer.
“Don’t-” But there was no use. You stepped outside the door slamming behind you. Gator felt his heart drop to his feet. North Dakota snowstorms were nothing to fuck around with and you both knew that. “Wait!” He screamed, his feet moving faster than his brain.
He stumbled onto the porch, the force of the wind attempting to shove him to the side. Somehow, through the snow, he caught a glimpse of your dress. You were only a few steps ahead of him, on the last porch step as you yourself struggled to push forward. With all his might, he moved ahead, hand gripping onto the railing for dear life. You were still staring out at the snowy fields ahead, deliberating where to go from here. You took another step forward. He made it to the bottom step. But now he had to let go of the railing too. In the mass of snow, he’d lost sight of your body.
He squinted his eyes again, honing in on the bright fabric of your dress. With a deep breath, he rushed forward. His feet sunk into the snow, its resistance making traversing the short distance infinitely harder, but he finally reached you.
He wrapped his arms around your body, dragging you backwards with all his strength. “Are you crazy?” He shouted over the raging wind, though he wasn’t sure you could hear him. You weren’t exactly fighting him, but you weren’t trying to get back to the house either. “Why are you tryin’ to die?” The question came out more strangled than Gator was expecting as you both heaved yourself up the steps.
He couldn’t figure out which one of you was shivering more as he finally threw the door to the house open, both of you making it inside. Instantly, the warmth hit you. The floor inside had been coated in a small white dusting around the door from you and Gator’s dramatic exits.
“There’s a…” Gator panted, heavily. “Heater in my room.” You didn’t exchange words but navigated your shivering body towards the steps. If Gator wanted to kill you before, then he didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling now.
He watched carefully as you managed up the staircase, slowly adjusting to the warmth inside. You weren’t out there long enough to develop something serious but he had to be cautious. Luckily, beyond the general coldness, you seemed fine. “Room’s doors down on your left.”
You hesitated. “What are you-”
“I’ll be there in a second.”
A few minutes later, Gator was headed up the stairs with two feeble attempts at hot cocoa in his hands. As he turned into his room, he saw you, lying down in the sheets, bundled up in the warmth. Even though you were on thin ice with him, you did look sweet like that. “You’re an idiot, y’know that?” He grunted, setting a mug down on his nightstand while he put the other one on his desk. Though he was freezing, the heater was starting to warm up the room and you looked cozy under his comforter. To his shock, though, you shuffled over, lifting it up so he could crawl in too.
“Don’t make it a thing, I know you’re cold too.”
He shook his head, but moved over to the bed anyway, sliding between the sheets. You ended up facing each other, both your bodies still shaking slightly.
You sighed, looking past him at the drink on the nightstand. “You made us cocoa?”
“Don’t act so surprised, I can be nice when I want to.”
You bit your lip, your eyes drifting away like you were considering say something. You whispered it, quiet as possible. “Yeah, but not to me.”
Immediately, Gator felt the same irritation you always set off in him. “That’s not fair, you hated me first.”
“I did not. I barely talked to you until you decided I was a teacher’s pet and everyone needed to know that.” You snorted. “And don’t act like you would’ve cared if I got hurt out there.”
“You think I ran after you for fun?” He sighed.
“No. You ran after me so you wouldn’t get in trouble with your dad. Dead girl on the ranch isn’t exactly the best way to start a marriage.”
“Yeah, well, neither is this damn snowstorm.”
“True.” You sighed. “I know I shouldn’t have stormed off just…I sacrificed a lot to even be here you know. Once this starts spreading around town I’m branded as yours forever.” He hadn’t even thought about that, but you were right. Even if you ‘broke up,’ no one would dare approach you out of fear of him.
“So why the hell did you agree to it?”
You shrugged. “Cause I felt bad for you. I know how your dad can get. I’ve seen it at football games before.” Gator didn’t know what to do with your admission. You clearly didn’t either, brushing it off. “And besides. A girl comes to a wedding, they want a little music, a sappy ceremony, and maybe some good sex after. Was gunning for two out of three tonight but I got zero so far.”
And for the first time ever, Gator honest to God laughed at something you said. No sarcasm, no cruelty. And you were laughing too. Together, this time.
As the laughter died, a silence fell between the two of you. It felt strange, to be on the receiving end of your niceness. It felt good.
“You’re right.” Gator had never said those words to you before and never dreamed he would. “I think I’m the one that started hatin’ you first.” You went still, waiting for him to elaborate. “Teachers used to say that to me all the time. That I’m ‘more trouble than I’m worth.’ So did Dad. But you…Everybody loved you.” He felt his blood boiling at the memories. “Everytime I got told off for acting out, I’d always hear your name. Never figured out why I couldn’t be more like you like they all wanted. But it pissed me off.”
You rolled, shuffling a little closer. Gator was all too aware of the heat between your bodies now, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the covers anymore. “Then you started pissing me off in spite?” He nodded reluctantly. “And then I would get mad at you.”
“Got so used to the whole thing, just…thought it was how it’d always be.” This time, he moved closer, the skin of your legs grazing, your breaths mingling.
He felt it fall down his throat as you whispered, “Was?”
He wasn’t sure exactly what compelled him to reach out, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You think you’d settle for one out of three?” He tried, lips brushing yours. You responded in turn, lightly connecting your lips together. He barely felt you the first time, and still, a jolt ran through his body. He kissed you again, a little firmer this time. And again and again and again. That hot cocoa was long forgotten. Your warmth was far more intoxicating. And as his hand came to rest on your hip, yours on his neck as your bodies moved against each other, the friction making his pants grow tighter by the second, he felt himself falling under that spell that everyone else did. Seeing you. Maybe as you always were.
His fingers danced down your thigh, bunching up the fabric of your dress so it was over your hips. He choked when he felt lace at his fingertips. “Sure you were only gunning for two out of three?” He chuckled against your neck. You didn’t respond, your fingers working desperately at his belt buckle at the same time his dipped past the waistband of your underwear. With you palming him through his briefs, him gathering up your slick, you both let out equally loud moans. Quickly, he shoved his pants down to his ankles, pulled your leg over his hip and slid himself in. All the while, his lips remained on yours, swallowing the sounds of satisfaction you were both let out. Usually, when he was with girls in bed, he was quick, crazy and desperate to get off as fast as possible. But for some reason, today, he found himself moving slow, careful — savoring that for the first time ever, his name wasn’t falling from your lips in annoyance. As he pulled out and sunk back in deeper, your arms came to wrap around his shoulders as tight as possible. Never did he think you would be trying to hold him close instead of pushing him away. He had no idea how much he wanted to hold you back. He had a bruising grip on your hip, guiding your movements.
As your pleasure crested, you slammed your lips into his again, this time much more fierce and certain than the first kiss. He was pretty sure, somehow, it was that feeling that made him follow right after. He stayed there — close to you, tangled in you — and even then the spell didn’t wear off. You’d decided to do all this for him, even though he had never been kind to you. That was going to change now. From the nightstand, his phone rang out. Reluctantly, he pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the feeling.
When he answered the phone, Roy’s voice came out the other end, saying words that made Gator unfortunately burst out laughing. You turned to him, your eyebrows pressed together, voice soft as you asked, “What’s going on?”
you posting thru the panties on my birthday was lowk my favorite birthday present 😵💫😵💫😵💫 ur just sooo good ilysm
ahhh ilysm!! i’m unsure if u mean ur bday was june 3 or yesterday/today… either way happy bday! if ur bday was the 17 ur my bday twin! but it was probably the 3
booking by @ms-mountebank: >1k, Gator Tillman x reader, smut, forbidden love, enemies to lovers
pairing: gator tillman x fem! reader
summary: your father is running for sheriff against roy tillman, and you and gator have made it your missions to sabotage each other's success
wc: 4.8k
warnings: misogyny, roy tillman, threats of murder, piv sex, proofread but poorly,
a/n: yeah i may have gotten a little carried away with this one 😅, probs don't expect a lot more fics that are this long i gotta learn to shut myself up. but i hope we enjoy i'm so excited for the event and have seen all the amazing asks that i've already been sent in that i can't wait to execute!!
⋆°.𓄀🂾𐚁 .°⋆
The lights were low in the hall, groups of townsfolk murmuring in their little designated tables. Some picked slowly at the food the sheriff had provided them, others had inhaled it in one go. The energy was buzzing throughout the place as the beginning of the election season was rung in with Roy Tillman’s charity dinner. You had found yourself at a table with complete strangers, staring down at a dish of chicken parmesan that you deemed an insult to anyone with tastebuds. It didn’t matter. You weren’t here for the socialization, or the food. You were here the man running opposition to him this year — your father.
You heard a clearing of someone’s throat and you instantly knew what was coming. Your attention turned to the front of the room where Roy Tillman stood, microphone in hand, and a spotlight shining onto him. You straightened, hanging onto his every word, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. “Hi everyone.” Roy cleared his throat. “How are we tonight?” Everyone burst out in ear-splitting applause. You simply sat, hands crossed at your lap, watching intently. “Karen and I want to thank you for comin’ and supporting us.” Roy began his useless speech about the importance of the town gathering together, backing someone that actually cares about the people, fights for what’s right.
There it was. The golden opportunity.
“A few years ago, it was my father serving this county, and his father before that and his…” You shot your hand up like an all too eager school student, and immediately you noticed the slight falter in Roy’s voice. He simply shook his head and tried to move forward. “We’ve been dedicated to our people and-” You jumped in your seat, waving your hand slightly, and now, you could feel eyes falling on you from across the room. One pair in particular caught your attention — hazel and shooting fire straight across the room and into you. You smiled, and jumped up from your seat, hand still straight up. “As a…As a family man-” You enjoyed watching Roy Tillman squirm, but enough was enough. And well, this was even better than what you were originally going to say.
“Do family men usually remarry child brides after their first one goes missing?”
Immediately, you heard a chair scrape and several figures moving in your direction.
The man with the hazel eyes — who you knew to be Roy’s son — approached first, his hand wrapping around your arm. “Alright, time to go.” Another older man approached from the same table of deputies, and you immediately noticed his hand clutched to the gun at his hip. But this was in front of all the potential funding Roy had. You were surprised they were even daring to do this.
“Let go of me, asshole.” You tried to pull your arm from the son’s tight grip, but he didn’t let up, dragging you towards the door of the hall. “Look how they’re treatin’ an innocent young woman!” You intentionally pitched your voice up slightly as you called to the rest of the room who were all watching in shock. “What’s the point of you sheriff, if you can’t answer a simple question?” You were still struggling against the man, two steps from the door now. “Thought you cared about the county.” And as the crowd broke out into hushed murmurs of agreement, you heard the squeak of the wooden door opening.
Just as you were about to get tossed out, one simple, commanding word echoed through the room. “Stop.” In a split second, the son went still, like he was under some trance. He stayed holding your bicep, but his attention was fully on his father. So was the rest of the room’s. “Who are you, miss?” The best thing about being a woman in this town was how easily you could go unnoticed. You were rarely in your father’s campaign pictures and most in the town didn’t know you existed. That’s what allowed you to sneak in here in the first place — your father’s desperate bid to take some of Roy’s power away.
“A concerned citizen.” You straightened your posture.
“Well…” His eyes tossed between his son, the man on your other side, and his family sitting at the front table. They then fell back to you. “You’re right. My first wife isn’t anywhere to be seen.” His voice dropped a slight bit lower, gaze dropping down. “That’s ‘cause she left us.” You scoffed, the performance of devastation all to obvious. Your father himself had told you the truth. The rumours that surrounded that woman’s death. He looked back up, eyes locking to his son’s as he spoke the next words, “Said she couldn’t handle being a mother. Said she didn’t deserve to be stuck with a kid like that.” You didn’t see so much as feel how red the man next to you went, his grip on your arm loosening through a heavy breath.
Roy ripped his eyes away again, turning back to his captive audience. “And my son, Gator, he was devastated. Cried like a baby every day. That’s pathetic. What happens when you don’t grow up right. A boy needs a mother, yes?” The crowd murmured out “yes” and “of course,” an heir of pity soaking through the room. “Maybe I got it wrong a few times, but I finally found Karen, and these girls. And like I was sayin’ before the interruption…” He turned to you, shooting daggers from his eyes. “I’m a family man. And I want to protect this county for them, and I’m sure all of you want the same.” The first clap came from his wife at the front table, then his daughters, and soon enough the whole room was bursting into applause as you rolled your eyes. Bullshit. All of it.
“Heard you murdered her. Lin-” Before you could finish the name, you were being dragged out of the front doors at full force.
The cold night air hit your skin immediately in the thin dress you were wearing. You blinked trying to adjust to the sudden change in temperature and dizziness you felt at the movement.
“Don’t you ever fuckin’ say her name, ya hear me?” Gator stormed forward, his face stopping near inches from yours.
You were about to respond with some witty retort, but it died in your throat when you spotted the man at the door. He had his hand on his gun again, this time fully pulled out. “You want me to take care of it?”
Gator turned to the man, his breaths still heavy. He looked to you for a second, and you felt your heart catch in your throat. Were you about to die over an election? “No. It’s too public.” Gator shook his head, and your body relaxed ever so slightly. Whatever his reasons were, as long as you weren’t ending tonight six feet under, you were ok. “Besides, isn’t gonna be a good look if the daughter of dad’s only opponent goes missin’ so close to the election.” The other man nodded, and retreated back inside.
You froze. “You know who I am?”
“What?” He cocked his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “Surprised I did my homework, sweetheart?”
“Sweetheart? It’s-” He cut you off, reciting your own name back to you with rehearsed practice that left you stunned.
“Told ya, I did my homework. I know a lot about you.” There was this strangely challenging spark in his eyes, and you were never one to back down from a challenge.
“Oh yeah?” You leaned. “Like what?”
Just then, a cold breeze rushed through the air, instantly toppling your confident demeanour. You tried to remain eye contact with him but the way your body shivered in the cold ruined everything. He looked you up and down, an arrogant smile over his face.
It happened so quickly you didn’t register what was going on until the leather hit your shoulders. Gator had taken his jacket off, revealing his camo quarter-zip underneath. You were too stunned to laugh at it, as he got unnecessarily close, fingers brushing against your skin as he adjusted the material. He lowered his gaze to yours. “Maybe I’ll tell ya next time I see ya, sweetheart.” He pulled away, leaving you with a strange twisting in your gut.
“Next time?” You called as he strode back to the door.
“Oh yeah.” He tossed over his shoulder. “Just cause I didn’t kill ya, doesn't mean we’re just gonna forget this. See you next Saturday.” And with that, the door to the hall shut behind him and you were left standing in the freezing cold.
⋆°.𓄀🂾𐚁 .°⋆
Sure enough, next Saturday — the day of your father’s campaign barbecue — came, and with it, bad news.
The actual attendance of your event was half the size of Roy’s dinner, but that half was beyond passionate about getting a more responsible leader at the head of town. Your father himself was at the grill, cheerfully handing out hot dogs to the people that came up, making small talk. You were walking around, strategically taking photos of the crowd and your dad’s interactions as if you were some professional campaign photographer. Whatever it takes to win, was your father’s slogan, so your entire family was dedicated to the cause.
There was a lull in the crowd at the grill and your father turned to you. “You sure the angle’s right? Did ya get the one of me and the sick kid?”
You held back a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, Dad. I got it.”
He shook his head, observing the crowd splayed out across the park. “Attendance is so damn low, I thought you got people on our side at the dinner.”
“Tried but…Roy’s really good at twisting words.”
Your eyes drifted over the sausages on the grill, stomach rumbling. All day, you’d been running around trying to set up posters, buy ingredients for the barbecue, help your mom make accompanying snacks, and you hadn’t eaten yourself. “Hey,” You laughed. “Least we can eat as many hot dogs as we want.”
Your father shook his head disapprovingly, his eyes scanning over you like that was the most offensive thing he’s ever heard and it was your fault that no one showed up. You’d followed his exact instructions. Stirring up how unreliable and ruthless Roy was was meant to remind people of a better alternative. All it seemed to do was scare them though.
As another family approached the grill, his face brightened, beginning to plate food for them. Without even looking at you, he waved a hand, reminding you to take photos. With a sigh, you reached for your phone again, fumbling open the camera app.
As you were lining up the camera to get the nice lighting, a shadow appeared. A presence, looming right behind you. “Think the model’s meant to be in front of the camera.” You stilled, slowly turning around.
He stood with his sunglasses covering his face, even though the sun had been hiding behind a whole mass of clouds all day. “You think flirting’s gonna make us back off, Gator?”
“Oh,” He chuckled. “Trust me, sweetheart, you would know if I was flirting.”
You shook your head, about to tell him off for coming here, even though you had no right to. Before you could, you felt a pair of hands squeezing your shoulder s. “Hon, who we speakin’ to here?” Your father gritted through his teeth, all too aware of who exactly who Gator was. “Wow, we managed to get a Tillman on our side, aren’t we lucky?” He laughed sarcastically.
“Well me and the boys just thought we’d pay a little visit. See what you little fish were up to.” He nodded to the street, where numerous police cruisers were suddenly parked, with deputies getting out of them in hordes. You could already see how some of the families in the park had frozen as they watched.
Clearly, Roy Tillman wasn’t the only one that thought intimidation was the move.
For the first time in decades, the Tillmans had an opponent who was serious about winning the sheriff seat. This election had split the department in two, those who were ready to challenge Roy, and those who weren’t. The former group was a lot smaller, and no match for the swarm of black vests that were suddenly polluting the park. You watched as they tossed beers around, one of them dragging a speaker that blasted deafening music. Your heart dropped as families began to shuffle from picnic tables.
Your father turned to you, eyes narrowing. “Did you tell them about this?”
Before you could even respond, Gator was cutting in. “You can’t talk shit in the department without me hearin’ it, sir.” The last word somehow rolled off his tongue like an insult.
Your father only greeted his attitude with a smile. “Well, while you’re here, maybe you can learn the difference between shit talking and honest critique.”
Gator’s own lips pressed into a fake smile. “Which one is it when you baselessly accuse my dad of murder?” Your father froze, the blood draining from his face. “Well…” He scrambled for answer he couldn’t find.
“Your family’s been playin’ dirty for centuries.” You chimed in. “Only fair we fight back.”
A microphone squeak from the gazebo snatched all your attention. Your mother stood there, desperately trying to keep people her with promises of raffles and homemade goodies. “Dad, you should give your speech before we lose them all.” You reached to your backpack, pulling out the stack of papers you’d spent the entire night typing out.
As you handed them over, Gator blinked, mouth open in a half laugh. “Who’s runnin’ here?” Your father paused where he was reaching for the papers, eyes locking with Gator’s.
He loosened his grip, letting the stack fall to the floor in a messy heap. “Gotta find a way to keep her entertained.” He grimaced, swinging past you and Gator, his boots crushing your hard work further into the dirt. You didn’t watch him walk away, dropping to the ground to collect the mess that was flying in different directions due to the wind. Focusing your energy on this would maybe help that feeling in your gut.
“Real nice way he talks t’ you.” Gator loomed above, watching you flail across the floor, falling over as you reached for a sheet of paper.
“Could say the same about your dad.” You hissed, straightening back up with the papers in your hand. “Callin’ you pathetic for crying over your own mother.” When you met Gator’s eyes again, you saw a flicker of shame. Like he agreed. You wanted to hurt him and yet, were strangely compelled to whisper. “It’s normal to do that.” He dropped his eyes to his feet, grinding his teeth like he was considering your words carefully. There was no time for a response, as you heard your father on the stage again. He was humiliatingly begging the last man left to just stick around. But he didn’t. And it was just your family and some deputies left in a park. From the corner of your vision, you saw Gator’s posture had tightened again and he smiled viciously.
“Oh no,” He fumbled the green vape out of a leather jacket near identical to the one that was still sitting draped on a chair in the corner of your room, like you’d ever be able to casually return it to him. “Looks like the party’s wrappin’ up.” He pulled the vape to his mouth, taking a long drag. And then he leaned in. “You wanna call it a draw?” As he spoke, the sweet vapour fell from his lips to yours.
You only smiled, brought your mouth closer to his and whispered, “In your dreams, Tillman.”
⋆°.𓄀🂾𐚁 .°⋆
So neither of you did. The whole election season, it was tit for tat, eye for an eye. Fundraising auctions where your would plant your father’s own merchandise to replace the Tillman’s items, door knocking days disrupted by Gator yellow-taping off your entire route, town hall meetings during which the two of you would hurl increasingly nonsensical hypotheticals to confuse the others dad. Every night, you would be cursing under your breath to your family how the Tillmans didn’t know how to act right and you didn’t even know why Gator was doing all this even though you heard his father call him a ‘waste of space in a police uniform’, when he thought no-one was listening. You had started keeping his leather jacket in your car, insisting you wanted to get rid of something that belonged to a man so irritating, but instead, it stayed there like a looming reminder that he could show up at any moment. And despite the frustration, you couldn’t deny, it almost became exciting to you — wondering when Gator would show up, and what the hell he would do, planning down to the second to see if you could stop it.
One night, you even had a ball, something to give the residents of the county an excuse to dress up. He had shown up there, suit and all, and you just knew he had some bullshit planned. Your eyes hadn’t left him the whole night, watching each flinch of his hand, and where his eyes would drift. And he knew. He’d glance back at you with a wink, a nod, and he even held out a hand, nodding to the dance floor. You accepted, rationalizing that it was the best way to keep an eye on him.
When the two of you met on the dance floor, the first thing you did was pat him up and down. “Think we gotta go somewhere a little more private if you wanna do all that.” Gator laughed, but he didn’t even attempt to move.
“I’m checking to see you don’t have a gun.”
He snorted, letting you finish your inspection nonetheless. The moment you did, he was guiding your arms around his neck, his own settling at your hips. “Sweetheart,” He swayed to the music casually like this was just a regular Tuesday. “If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already.”
You exhaled a laugh through your nose. “Am I supposed to find that hot?”
His fingers tightened on your hips slightly, eyes locked with yours. “Do ya?”
You swallowed.
But you didn’t answer.
Gator payed no mind, pulling you a little closer to him. “So I’m assuming this was your idea?” He gestured vaguely to the dance floor. “Too well organized to be your dad’s.”
“People severely underestimate the power of the women here.” You didn’t retract in offence, though you should have. Each day that went on, you were losing yourself in winning this campaign, and you couldn’t say you weren’t proud of what you’d come up with. “This is the kind of event they adore, even if their husbands don’t. But if they come along, the wife’s in a good mood. And when they’re in a good mood, guess what happens when they go home?”
Gator smirked at your insinuation. “You’re saying a husband’s gonna change his vote just because he had good sex with his wife?”
“Sex, sweetheart, is the driving force of our world.” You shrugged, as if your heart was not beating incredibly fast at the way you were dancing with him. Having an actual conversation. And his hand creeping further behind your hips where it shouldn’t. Though you didn’t make a move to stop it.
He shook his head, a truly impressed look on his face. “You know I’ve been to like a hundred of these events now. He never mentions your name.” You only blinked back at him, confusion flooding you. “When he does the thank you speech. He’ll thank everyone from the barber that cut his hair for it, and the janitor who’s going to clean the place after, but he never thanks you for organizin’ the whole thing.”
A lump immediately formed in your throat. It was true. You knew it was. But who was he to act like you were the fool? “You weren’t even sitting at the same table as your family, Gator.”
A silence fell between the two of you. You didn’t stop dancing with each other.
⋆°.𓄀🂾𐚁 .°⋆
And then it came.
The day of the debate.
After months and months of gruelling planning, campaigning, and prepping like your life depended on it, you’d reached the event that would really determine who would win this thing. Whoever got the most applause tonight, was guaranteed the election. The room was buzzing with energy as you entered, townsfolk packing the chairs, paparazzi cameras flashing between your father and Roy, news reporters waiting in one corner. “Dad, you remember what to do if he calls you inexperienced right?” You whispered as your family pushed through the crowd to get to the front seats.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” He waved you back to a chair, adjusting his tie as he walked on stage. You defeatedly pushed back into your seat, taking your lay of the land as you tried to gauge the audience. Instead, your eyes immediately locked to Gator’s who was standing at the back of the hall, arms crossed and already looking at you in a knowing smirk. You only clenched your jaw and indicated to where the rest of Roy’s family were sitting, no spare chair for him. You both broke eye contact immediately.
The debate started off simple enough. Issues like drug enforcement, funding, crime rates. Those were the ones that you’d bullet pointed out extensively, and judging by the way your father was getting enthusiastic applause for his answers, you were actually starting to have some hope. And then, there was the question.
“Sheriff Tillman, you’ve been emphasizing how important family is to you and the legacy your own has left in Stark County law enforcement.”
“That’s correct.” Roy puffed out his chest.
“Do you plan on continuing that legacy with your son, whom you’ve described as ‘nothing but a waste of space in a police uniform.’” The entire room broke out in gasps of shock. You were frozen. Sure, you hadn’t known the questions in advance but that one was just…how had it snuck in there? You looked to the two men on stage — one almost shaking with visible rage while the other just stood calmly, checking his notes. Your dad. He had set this up, somehow.
Your head immediately whipped around to Gator, who was just blinking at his father, the hurt swimming in his eyes.
Roy laughed. “I don’t see how that’s exactly relevant to the-”
“No, no.” You father cut through. “I mean, you call yourself a family man but I have a recording of you saying that about your own son.” You twisted in your seat. You had recorded it. You were going to show it to Gator out of petty spite one day, until you’d just decided the better of it. Too late. The words were playing out of some speaker, and you felt your stomach drop. “See, unlike Roy here, I actually care about my family, and the people of this town too. I want this place-”
“Oh please.” Roy laughed. “You’re such a family man, you’ve been getting your daughter to run your entire campaign.”
Your father shook his head. “Respectfully, I think we all know this couldn’t have been planned by a young woman like herself.” That one stung. You had slaved away for longer than he realized, meticulously planned each moment of your life around this thing, and he was diminishing you as a ‘young woman.’
“You told her she could never do this herself, so she might as well do it for you.”
“You called him pathetic.”
“You said she was…”
The voices began to drown out, watching them bicker like petty school children. Over you. Except, it wasn’t. Not at all. You turned your head to the back of the room yet again and your eyes fell on Gator’s at the same time he looked to you. The conversation was spoken silently, there as the understanding washed over you. You were nothing but pawns. Running around diligently, trying to serve every whim your fathers demanded, and never getting anything back. Here they sat, arguing like they cared about either of you.
You moved first.
You chair scraped loudly against the cement floor of the hall, whispers of shock following you as you crossed straight to the front door. You didn’t glance back before pushing it open.
The cold winter air hit you instantly, as you dragged your body to the bottom of the front steps, plopping yourself down on the last one. You took a deep breath, wrapping your coat further around you as you stared at the vast expanse of snow in front of you. There was no one around, the voices inside muffled, and for the first time in months, you felt…peace. You heard the door open behind you again, and a body sit down on the steps. You knew who it was without a word. “I’m sorry.” You muttered.
“Yeah,” Gator snorted. “Me too.” And then something else hit you. They didn’t care about you. They didn’t care what you did, right? So maybe you could act on that little spark that had been zipping around your stomach for a while.
“Hey,” You turned to him. “I’ve got your jacket in my car, if you wanna come get it?”
His eyes flicked across your face, processing your offer.
⋆°.𓄀🂾𐚁 .°⋆
“Gator, holy shit.” You gasped, your nails scratching down his back as he pistoned in and out of you and out of you in a relentless rhythm.
There weren’t many steps between you storming out of the debate and ending up in your backseat with that very leather jacket bundled under your head like a pillow. Maybe it was a spiteful act to piss off your fathers, maybe it was seeking a moment of comfort after being stung by the people you admired most in the world, maybe it was just something inevitable that led you here.
All you knew was that it was fucking good.
Your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to pull him in closer, deeper, as he hit spots that made you see stars.
“Feel just as good as I thought.” He breathed, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. The truth was, you had been imagining it for a while too. In all this mess, he was the only one that had even noticed you. A strange connection sparking in the dark that was your fathers.
He yet again slammed his lips into yours, his thrusts getting deeper and you moaned into him. You didn’t back down from a challenge though, meeting each movement of his hips with your own. And with the movement, the drag, the way his hand snaked down between you, your eyes begin to roll back in your head, everything going fuzzy in the perfect way. “You drive me…” He panted into your neck, the words strained through his own pleasure. “Fucking nuts, you know?”
You wanted to retort, but what came out is a strangled whine. He did that smirk he always did when he’d won something but it gelt different this time. Like you were the prize. “I was…” His lips moved down the front of your chest in slow, open bites. “Flirting, this whole time. Thought somehow it’d make you back off. Make it ok for me to want you like I did.” You weren’t sure how he released the confession so crystal clear when you could barely think straight.
“Me too.” You managed, your arms clawing to pull him closer. “Wanted…you…too.” When you finally got the words off your chest, the relief hit more than just your mind. Your high slammed into you hard as your back arched off the seat, the sound escaping your throat an almost scream at the pleasure.
He followed right after, his grip on your hips bruising as he spilled into you uncontrollably. Even when all the aftershocks were gone, he remained — his head resting against your shoulder, the two of you now undeniably connected. You basked in the quiet. The comfort.
From the hall, you hear loud, raucous applause. Gator tilted his head up to meet your eyes. “Who do you think won?”
You reached up, pushing back the loose strands of hair that fell across his forehead. “I don’t care.” You whispered.
His lips curled up into the first genuine smile you’d seen from him. “Yeah.” He pressed his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, pulling back to let you breathe but keeping his lips on yours. “Me neither.”
ty for the tags @insomniacpen and @comfycosygirl!!
last song: keep your head up by djo
currently watching: i don't watch many tv shows :( i did just finish season two of pop culture jeopardy and im rewatching season one!
currently reading: i love to read but im really bad at staying consistent with it. i did just get an a24 backrooms zine that has the entirety of the yellow wallpaper by charlotte perkins gillman that i wanna read!
currently working on: planning a steve x reader series....
currently wearing: some big baggy dark wash jeans and a light blue baby tee with a the cranberries graphic on it! (it says "do you have to let it linger?" with an angel cartoon and stars and surrounded by a barbed wire heart)
last google search: riverbend music center (where i'm seeing hayley williams!)
fave flower: cherry blossoms and astilbe!
no pressure tags (sorry if u were tagged alreadyyy) @riddlersoupwrites @rhaenyrasflame @basicallydjo @djosdarling
summary: gator hasn't stopped thinking about your parting words for weeks. and he deals with it in not so healthy ways.
wc: 2.4k
warnings/tags: 18+mdni, implied assault on reader (not by gator), protective!gator (but incredibly misguided), stalking, smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of roy tillman and abuse
a/n: guess what! this ended up being a lot longer than i was anticipating so you're getting two chapters rn hehehehe
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Do not get attached to the hooker that you’re meant to be using as a CI for your case.
Words Gator Tillman never imagined he’d be thinking but he certainly is. Because you’ve got him attached. More than attached, you have him hooked. And those words you said have been rattling around Gator’s head, every moment of every day. “I’m letting my friends know I’m not dead.” That combined with your description of Marcus, who Gator already hated anyways, has left his mind reeling. Of course your job is dangerous, he knew that, and yet, it felt like he didn’t understand the gravity of it until you said those words. Because it isn’t some nameless, faceless woman anymore. And fuck, as much as it pains him to admit, he likes you. You, who the rest of Lehigh treats no better than gum stuck on the bottom of a shoe. You, who he shouldn’t even want for a quick fuck. Corrupted, dirty, money hungry, you. Well when he puts it like that, the two of you aren’t so different after all.
That’s what he’s learned over the past two weeks, watching your every move like a hawk. For your safety, of course. You don’t need to know. God, sometimes he wishes he never made the choice. He’s seen you ducking in and out of motel rooms at all hours of the day with all sorts of emotions painted across your face, witnessed men shouting things at you on dark streets to which you simply ask them how much they’re going to pay. Parked in front of Marcus’ one day, he sat slack jawed as a girl dashed from the house, her clothes ripped and tears in her eyes while laughter broke out in the house. The idea that that could be you only made his resolve stronger. Watching from afar wasn’t enough. If something happens to you, it would be inside those rooms, where he can’t see or hear what’s going on. So whenever you’re in a motel, he’s kicking out the occupants of the adjacent room for a ‘crime scene’. Rage pulses through him when he hears you moaning for another man, but it means that if they say something out of line, bend something that you’re not willing to, he can be there. You never need the help but he’d rather stay on high alert. Still, even that has it’s limits.
There’s a day when you’re at the hotel together. With you on your knees in front of him, your tongue laving at him, it’s like everything else in the world disappears. From your place, there, you lock your eyes with his and he whimpers instantly. You’re magic. You have to be by the way you turn him into a shell of a man with something as simple as a look. Gator seems to get how those sailors at sea got sucked in by sirens. Because that’s exactly what you are — a siren; your moans flowing in his ears like a heavenly song that makes him ascend. “Fuckin’ hell, mama.” He throws his head back, the feeling becoming overwhelming all too fast. If you had the ability to, you would be smiling. And as you move, he feels this overwhelming urge in his body. Like he has to hold you, to feel you. Not control. Just know you are there. His hand sinks down into your hair, and he lets out a groan at the feeling. But as he grips just a little tighter for stability, he pauses.
“What the fuck is that?” You don’t even respond, instead moving faster so that he can’t say another word. “S-Seriously- Shit.” It’s seconds later, he’s spilling into your mouth and you diligently swallow, getting up quickly and slamming your lips against his so you both fall on the bed. He groans against you, half protest, except his arms are pulling you in. One hand comes back to your hair, in search of what he felt earlier. Even with his lips pressed to yours, he finds it quickly.
So he hadn’t imagined it. His fingers run over the slightly raised ridge on the nape of your neck — the skin smooth where hair used to be. It’s tiny but it’s certainly there. As his thumb slides over it again, you sigh into his mouth, pulling away.
“What, deputy?” You look irritated, but for the first time, he notices something else underneath it.
“What happened?”
“Nothin’.” You shrug, leaning back down to kiss him again. He grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you off him.
“What happened to your hair?” He tries again.
“I tried to style it and failed.” You roll your eyes, the lie blatant as it falls from your tongue. “Now, you wanna fuck me or what?” Gator simply guides you back so you’re laying beside him, then turns to face you. For maybe the first time in his life, he isn’t even thinking about the half-naked state of the girl in front of him, and he doesn’t know why.
“Was it Marcus?”
You groan, running a hand over your face. “I’m hear to have sex with you, not do therapy.” Your deflection is all the answer he needs, the rage seething through him instantly. Why do you choose to do this to yourself? Surely there isn’t enough money in the world that world that could make you put up with this shit. You turn away from him, taking a deep breath. “It wasn’t, like, to hurt me or anything. He just got a little too rough.”
“Did he even fuckin’ notice?”
You purse your lips together. “It’s a tiny bit of hair. It’ll grow back.” He kept going. He fucking ripped a piece of your hair out and kept going. And you’re acting like nothing’s wrong.
It breaks something in Gator. “Why the fuck do you do this to yourself?”
That’s when you laugh. Full bellied, and so loud, it pierces his ears. And all Gator can do is watch, trying to pry his way into this invisible inside joke. When you finally calm, you just shake your head and begin to slip out of the bed. “Wait, what? I-” Gator begins to protest but you simply pull your clothes on and began digging into your purse.
You shove his own cash back into his hand. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“No, let’s do this.” He protests, following you out of the room door in nothing but his underwear. “Just explain it to me, I don’t get it!” You don’t turn, continuing down the hall. “You want money? I can give you money!”
You stop dead in your tracks, scoffing. You don’t even turn back to him as you speak. “Life’s so fucking easy for you, Tillman.”
He doesn’t bring it up again, but he does realize that his monitoring isn’t enough. Motel rooms are one thing but what about houses like Marcus’? If some bullshit like that happens again, he has to know about it. Lucky for him, he’s a police officer. And being a police officer pays off when you want to spy on someone. Not spy, he reminds himself. Protect.
So he’s got a plan today. When you’re not looking, with a few clicks, he’s got access to your entire phone. Who you’re texting, where you are, and best of all, he can hear the constantly running microphone, and know if someone tries to pull some shit. T
oday, work caught up to him, and he hasn’t had the chance to check up on you. And a gnawing feeling digs into him. He sits shivering in his cruiser even with the heater blasting, stuck on overtime because his dad demanded it. Each time the number flips on the digital clock, so does his stomach. You’re meant to see each other in five minutes. The radio mounted on his dash is dead silent. He has no idea why he’s even stuck on patrol when nothing happens in this stupid fucking town except the very crimes that his own family commit.
He gets an image in his mind of you waiting at the hotel, being fed up and finding someone else. Bringing him to that room. Your room. No. Tonight is for you and him. He’d asked to see you early and was even going to ask you to stay the night for extra, so he didn’t have to stay up chasing after your stupidity. He whips out his phone, shooting the text message over with hands that shake. Because of the cold.
Gator 7:56pm - Stuck at work. Gonna be late but don’t leave.
He stares at the screen, praying for an immediate response. It doesn’t come. One minute passes. Then two. Then five. Something’s happened to you. He just knows it in his bones. The one day he doesn’t check in. Maybe it was some guy on the street, getting pissed off that you suggested he would pay for sex, or maybe it was another client, jealous that they weren’t picked tonight. He knows men in this town. Like Marcus. Like his dad.
The phone finally dings and Gator leaps to check.
You 8:05pm - oh my god i totally forgot to tell you
You 8:05pm - Sorry for the last minute notice, but I have to cancel tonight. I hope we can find another time to reschedule.
He grimaces at the second message; so robotic, he’s sure it’s been copy pasted from the millions of similar ones you’ve sent to other clients. Forgot? You didn’t forget any of the other guys you spent the entire week fucking, but him you forgot. Gator’s hand flies to the keyboard.
Gator 8:06pm - You’re seriously bailing on me?
He sees three dots appear on his screen, then vanish again. He stares at the unchanging screen for a long minute. Oh great. After all the shit he’s been doing for you, you’re going to ignore him now.
Gator 8:08pm - ???
His phone dings not a second later.
You 8.08pm - not that it’s any of your business but i’m sick. sorry it’s so late my head’s been a mess.
Bullshit. You’re probably courting some new client or outright ignoring him because he dared to question your fucked up choice of career. You’ve been tense as ever since that day. But sure, sick. He glances to the police radio, still generating ear-splitting static. How much could happen in an hour anyway?
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When Gator rolls up to your house, he immediately sees the lights on inside and something stills in him. Sure enough, as he parks the car in front of your window there you are, curtains wide open again (he really needs to get you to stop doing that) — curled up on the couch, a knitting project in your hands as you laugh at something on the TV. He takes in the oversized hoodie you wear, the tissue box on the coffee table and the blanket draped over your feet. It terrifies him to see you like this. Sure he’s followed you home before, lingered long enough to see that you got there safe, but once you were inside, he knew you were fine, so he’d always leave. Maybe because part of him knew that this version of you isn’t what he knows. Maybe, it’s what he wants to know.
Suddenly, he hears the engine of a car. Slowing. He ducks just as it rolls past him.
And turns into your driveway.
His hands immediately shoot out — one to his thigh holster, one to the car door. What if it’s some creep who’s stalking you? He has noticed that strange grey pickup behind him on your street before. It never moves. But this isn’t that car. And who steps out of it makes his jaw fall to the floor. A man with greying hair exits first, and from the passenger seat, a lady about the same age, holding a foil-covered dish in her hand. He watches as you alert to their knock, swing the door open and greet them with the warmest smile. When you hug them it clicks. Those are your parents. And as your mom hands you the dish, you sneakily peek inside and shout “Casserole!” loud enough that it slid out the window and into his ears.
He also hears the sweetness in your mother’s voice as she gently presses a hand to your forehead. “Thought you could use it, hon.”
You invite them to the couch and the three of you eat that casserole in your living room. Your mother inspects your knitting project, giving you some advice, your father proudly shows you something on his phone that prompts your mom to laugh. You watch as the two make lighthearted comments that end in an embrace. Gator sees a look in your eyes then. One that he’s pretty sure he’s matching right now as he watches your family.
I wish I had that.
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That night, Gator lies in his bedroom, staring up at his ceiling. He’s suddenly all too aware of the way he breathes too heavy from the broken nose his dad gave him ten years ago that never quite healed right. He thinks of the times he was sick, how not once — not even when he was a kid — did his father do anything but tell him to suck it up and get to school or work. As he turns over in the bed, and his face meets the pillow, he winces, feeling the sting of the bruise that Roy just gave him for leaving work early. When closes his eyes, he sees you, looking at him just like he looked at you. “Why the fuck do you do this to yourself?”
He pities you for being a sex worker. Hates how easily you could get hurt. But today, seeing you in that house, with your parents, he realized something. You’re human. Not some siren, and definitely not a damsel either. Just normal. Just like him, actually. You get hurt like him and you get over it like him. Those are your jobs. The difference is, you have a support system.
He sighs, picking up his phone.
Gator 12:03am - Text me when you’re better? Wanna see you first thing.
You 12:03am - sure thing 💕
Those hearts make his own skip a beat.
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taglist (comment on series masterlist to be added): @thesecretoftheswan, @aecd27 , @bells-bookshelf, @st4rg1rl88, @wolfiee10, @haydensheartt, @kristywidget97, @louisbelongstome28, @beth-mirrorball, @s3xytosomeone, @scaramou, @purplequeen64-stuff, @bluezzzzzz, @lacyiris, @deeplightblue, @steviaorsugar, @literal-tv-menace, @mysticbellie, @artismytherapy05, @bluegardenn, @pinkiepieshepardspie, @maaaachiii
