Boys Don't Cry Gator Tillman/Popular!Reader High School AU
CHAPTER TWO
chapter one,
Warnings: dick touching, throwing up, drinking.
Credit for the barbed wire divider: @pixopix (go check them out if you write fanfic and want to make it pretty, because they have so many awesome dividers with so many aesthetics)
Your fourth interaction with Gator occurs on a Tuesday. It's fifth period english class, and Gator is in his assigned seat next to you. He was moved there a couple months back when the teacher caught the girl he sat next to before you rubbing his dick under the table.
You glance at Gator out of the corner of your eye. He's sitting with his feet up on the desk making eyes at the aforementioned dick rubber from across the room. She's not a bad looking girl you'll admit. She looks the type to smoke pot indoors and use all natural deodorant. You've got nothing against her, it's just that she strikes you as a whorish hippie scumbag and the idea of her touching Gator makes you feel queasy. The idea of anyone's hands on Gator makes you a little sick, but there's really not much you can do about it, considering Gator is well on his way to having banged every girl in school.
Every girl but you that is.
That really shouldn't piss you off as much as it does. It's not like you're bad looking by any stretch of the imagination. You're the queen fucking bee of Dickson High for crying out loud.
"Get your feet off the desk," you snap at him. He raises both eyebrows at you.
"Alright, your majesty," he drawls, shifting on his seat to push his legs back under the table.
You don't talk at all for the rest of the class, but you catch him looking at you a couple of times.
After school your friends, Brittany and Angie, drag you out to the mall to go shopping for the Halloween party one of the jocks is throwing at his place on Friday. Your clique has a reputation to uphold when it comes to Halloween costumes. It's way too fucking cold this time of year in North Dakota to dress slutty (the girls who do always end up freezing), so you tend to dress warm.
Last year you went as Envy Adams from Scott Pilgrim, and no one got your costume other than the nerd boys in your year level who probably were at the party uninvited. After a whole night of dudes dressed as star trek and lord of the rings characters following you around, and one guy dressed as Link from Legends of Zelda telling you that you didn't have the right body type or complexion to make a good Envy (he stopped after you pointed out that he was at least 50 pounds too heavy to make a game accurate Link), you decided to not dress as something even vaguely nerdy this year.
"We should coordinate outfits," Angie suggests, walking in front of the pack, "I think we should do like a Zombie, Vampire, Werewolf thing."
"That could be cool," Brittany muses, "I call dibs on vampire."
"I'm werewolf then," Angie chirps.
"Ugh really?" You catch up with the rest of the group, "I guess I'm the zombie."
On Halloween night you sit on the floor of Angie's bathroom doing your makeup. You opted to ditch the traditional zombie makeup, way to gritty for your taste, instead doing it more like how you'd seen some of the weirdo scene kids at school draw zombies. Your costume consists of your makeup, a wool lined jacket, ripped jeans, and a pair of worn out combat boots.
"We look like a bunch of emos," you call out to Brittany who is putting on red lipstick in the hallway mirror. She's gone quite gothic with her vampire outfit.
"An emo a goth and a furry," she responds, putting her lipstick back in her bag.
"It's Halloween, Angie points out, walking down the hallway in her wolf ears and tail, "the one time of the year we can dress however we want."
"I'm pretty sure that only applies to the people who show up half naked, but you make a valid point." You pull yourself up off the floor, "who's driving?"
"I can," Brittany offers, straightening out her dress, "I'm not gonna drink tonight anyway."
"Okay cool." you fix your makeup one last time in the mirror before you head off.
The party is already pumping by the time you get there. You lose your friends almost immediately but you don't really care. That's not why you are here. You grab yourself a cup of cheap lukewarm beer from the coffee table and get to partying. The music is pretty shit, and the beer is pretty shit too, but a party is a party.
You get quite drunk after a while, and walk straight into someone while heading to the kitchen to find more beer.
"Shit, sorry," you apologise, looking up at the person you walked into, only to find yourself looking right into the eyes of one Gator Tillman.
"Watch it," he grunts.
Interaction five.
He doesn't look overly dressed up. Just in jeans and a jacket. He does, however; have a baseball bat with nails hammered through it in one hand, so that's something.
Normally if you got yourself into this situation you would just walk past him, but you're pretty drunk, and you're kind of sick of Gator ignoring you, so instead you start to talk.
"What are you meant to be anyway?" you tilt your head at him.
"I'm a zombie hunter."
"Oh that's funny, because I'm a zombie," you ramble, just managing to catch your drunk tongue before you say something stupid like 'Oh, you should hunt me,'.
"Yeah I could tell." He keeps breaking eye contact and is barely giving you any kind of a reaction which is pissing you off. Any other guy right now lucky enough to have you stop and talk to them would at least be grovelling a little bit.
"Why don't you hit on me?" you blurt out, the alcohol taking hold of your tongue.
"Excuse you?" he arches an eyebrow.
"I mean," you consider backtracking and pretending you never said anything, but fuck it, you want answers and he is going to give them to you, "I mean you've pretty much tried to get with every girl in our year level now, and you haven't even catcalled me or anything."
"Do you want me to hit on you, your majesty?" he's smirking slightly now and that just pisses you off more.
"No, that's not, I didn't," you stumble over your words, "I just want to know why."
"Maybe I'm just not attracted to you."
"Bullshit." you flush, "If you aren't into me then why did you kiss me in 9th grade?"
Now it's Gators turn to fluster, "That didn't mean shit. I was sad, you were there, I kissed you."
"You shouldn't have done it if it didn't mean anything."
"Yeah I know." Gator pushes past you back into the party. Part of you wants to follow after him, but you shove that feeling down and get yourself another beer.
By the time you realise you might have had too much to drink, it's a bit late to turn back. You rush to a secluded part of the backyard as the bile makes it's way up your throat. When you drop to your knees and start to hurl you barely notice the hands that come behind you holding your hair up behind your neck.
You only really notice the man behind you once you've finished puking and he starts to speak.
"You're so gross." Gator screws up his nose, tucking your hair into the back of your shirt so he can riffle through his pockets without your hair falling back into your face.
"Why are you here?" you choke out slightly.
He doesn't answer your question, finally pulling a little travel pack of tissues from one of his pockets.
"Chin up," he commands, wiping around the bottom of your mouth with the tissue, "You need to go home now."
"I don't want to go home."
"You're way too drunk, and guys keep looking at your ass. You're gonna end up in some guys bed if you don't get out of here."
"Why does that matter to you? You're always in peoples beds." You watch as he chucks the used tissue away.
"That's different."
"No it's not"
"Yes it is, I'm taking you home." he stands up, waiting for you to do the same.
"Your home?"
"No, puke face. Not my home, your home."
"Oh."
"Don't sound so disappointed."
You blush a deep crimson, "I'm not disappointed I wouldn't let you take me back to your house if you were the last man on earth."
"Good to know. Do you want a lift home or not?"
Brittany was meant to drive you home, but she probably wont want to leave for another few hours considering the fact that her boyfriend is here.
"Fine," you eventually agree, climbing shakily to your feet.
Warnings: Angst, Missing past lovers, crying, mentions of death, possible grammatical errors
What if Nikki survived the gunshot to the head and woke up in hospital with zero memory of anything that happened post aircon incident?
Nikki sits in the passenger seat of the fake doctors Honda Jazz. She hasn't made much of an attempt to communicate with him since he started driving. She figured trying to read lips while driving a car wouldn't be the safest thing in the world for him to be doing, and so opted to instead curl up in the passenger seat watching him drive. He has a certain quiet calmness to him that she finds soothing and oh so familiar, like an itch in her brain just out of her reach. His calm steely eyes stay focused on the road, but she gets the feeling that he can tell she's starting at him.
Before they left the hospital he had assured her through hand written scrawls that he's taking her somewhere safe where the police wont be able to find her, and she fully trusted him on his claim. She figured she'd rather be with this strange man than the police anyway.
The little car doesn't seem like the sort of vehicle she'd imagine this big quiet man to be driving. There's a Chupa Chups brand air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror, and the seats have fluffy covers on them. It only crosses her mind that the car might be stolen when she looks in the backseat and sees a Dora the explorer themed backpack left on one of the seats, right next to the mans duffel bag.
after what feels like forever they arrive in a small town. Nikki was half asleep when they passed the welcome to town sign, so she isn't really sure where they are. The only landmark she remembers seeing was a giant statue of a cow, which didn't do much to aid her confusion. The man pulls up in the driveway of a little house tucked right near the forests edge, and parks the car. She watches with tired eyes as he comes around to her door and helps her out of the car. They abandoned the wheelchair back at the hospital, so he has to half carry her into the building.
It's a nice little house. The inside is decorated with family photos of people she doesn't recognise, and it has a very Grandma's house feel to it.
She taps the mans shoulder so he looks at her while she talks.
"Did you steal this house too?"
He just shakes his head, putting her down on the couch. He then walks over to one of the photos and points at a dark haired young boy standing solemnly beside a woman with the same dark hair and eyes.
He signs something, and despite her having never learned sign language to her knowledge, she actually kind picks up on what he was trying to say.
Friend.
That boy was his friend.
"Oh so it's your friends house? Where is he?"
He holds both hands in front of him, one facing up the other down, then flips them. She doesn't understand that sign as well as she somehow did "friend" so she raises a questioning eyebrow.
The man sighs and proceeds to mimic slitting his throat.
"Oh. That sucks."
He nods.
"Who are you, Where are we and why?" she asks, finally deciding that she needs to know who this guy is and what is happening to her. She watches him pull out his notebook from before and start writing. Eventually he hands her a piece of paper.
My name is Wrench. We helped each other escape a prison bus and guys trying to kill us. We got revenge on the people who got your Fiance killed then split ways. You'd told me you were going to find Emmet, and when I didn't hear from you I assumed the worst.
Nikki's heart drops when she reads that Ray had died. She can't remember that happening at all, but the pain of loss seems familiar. She doesn't further bring up his death though, instead finding something lighter to talk about.
"There's no way your name is Wrench. That's stupid."
She could have sworn he almost rolled his eyes.
"Do you have Aspirin? My head is killing me." she straightens herself up on the couch.
He disappears into a different room and comes back with a cup of water and two tablets. He hands them to her.
That night Wrench takes Nikki to the master bedroom. She insisted he take it, but he brushed her off. There's something kind of demeaning about having to be carried everywhere, but at the end of the day she's glad she has someone to carry her at all.
As she lies curled up in bed, her head throbbing and her body weak, she starts to silently cry.
Ray is dead.
She can't really wrap her head around that notion, and while he must have died a while ago and she had just forgotten, the pain feels fresh.
She can hardly bear to be alone in bed. She has never liked being alone with her thoughts. Having Ray with her had been like a band-aid for that issue, but now he's been ripped off too quickly and her skin underneath is still stinging. Her mind wanders to the man in the other room. Wrench. Her supposed friend. She wonders how close their friendship is, and if it would be crossing a line if she drags herself down the hall and makes him come sleep beside her. They were clearly good enough friends for her to trust him enough to tell him where she was going and for him to come break her out of a hospital when shit hit the fan, so she decides that he wouldn't mind the company and pulls herself shakily to her feet. She still can't walk to save her life, but she manages to lean against the wall and drag herself down the hallway.
Wrench is sleeping in his friends old room, which is only one door down from the room Nikki is staying in, but even a few meters of ground is a lot to cover for someone who's legs have turned to mush. The door of the room he is staying in has a faded star stuck to it and she hesitates for a second before she moves to open it.
Wrench is asleep in the single bed pushed into the corner of the small room. It immediately becomes clear from Wrench's gun taken apart on the floor and his clothes neatly piled in the corner that this is the room he's been living in, even without Nikki taking up the bigger bed. He doesn't have his blanket over him, instead his arms are wrapped tightly around the mass of blankets that were on the bed. There's something about this whole scene that feels quite familiar to Nikki.
Now that she knows he's sleeping, she doesn't really feel like she should wake him up, so she turns to leave. As she closes his door, her legs give out underneath her and she falls onto the ground. She really hopes that because he's deaf, the sleeping Wrench won't be woken up by that, but alas, clearly the wooden floors beneath them were shaken a fair bit, and before she can pull herself back up to her feet, she feels a looming shadow over her.
Wrench is standing above her shirtless with a pair of tartan pyjama pants riding low on his hips. He crouches down next to her and raises both his eyebrows in accusation.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," She stutters out, "I didn't mean to spy on you or anything, I just couldn't sleep and was lonely, sorry that's so stupid."
He squints like he's trying to read her quick rambling and then nods slightly. His eyes are slightly red rimmed, his under eyes quite puffy. She's pretty sure she must look the same way. Without warning he grabs her under her arms and hoists her to her feet, throwing one of her arms over his shoulder as he walks her back to her room.
Once he's got her tucked into bed she expects him to return to the other room, but instead he walks over to the empty side of the bed and lays on his back on top of the covers. He doesn't do anything to acknowledge what he just did, He doesn't even look at her, but a small almost imperceptible smile crosses Nikki's face as she closes her eyes again, now with her new old friend laying stiffly beside her.
Thanks for reading! lmk if you wanna get tagged in future chapters. :D This fandom is tiny, we've gotta look out for each other.
What if Nikki survived the gunshot to the head and woke up in hospital with zero memory of anything that happened post aircon incident?
Nikki Swango is dead.
Almost.
There's a bullet in her skull, but she's breathing. She can't move, can't talk, can barely even think, but she's not dead yet. She lays there on the road for what feels like forever, what could have been forever, but was most likely 20 or so minutes, before her limp body is being hoisted up somewhere. She's not quite sure whats happening to her. It begins to dawn on her that she can't see, but she can feel. She can faintly hear the sound of sirens and frantic voices, but it's all a blur of sound.
Nikki Swango is alive.
Her eyes open and immediately close again as the bright lights around her cause her skull to throb painfully. She eventually deduces with her eyes still screwed tightly shut that she must have a hangover. Her and Ray can drink pretty heavily after a good bridge tournament win. He's probably in a worse state than she is right now. Eventually she wills her eyes to open, blinded for a few moments by the bright lights of the morning, before she realises that she is not in her bed at home, and is rather in a hospital bed. It takes her a further 20 seconds to realise she is handcuffed to said hospital bed.
She lays there for a short while, trying to wrap her head around whats going on, when a nurse comes into the room.
"Oh!" she exclaims when she see's Nikki, "You're awake, are you?"
"Yeah I think so," Nikki responds, "what's going on, why am I in hospital?"
The nurse appears to gather herself, coming to stand beside Nikki's bed, "Well, hun. You got brought in here with a bullet in your head. Knowing what fully happened is above my pay grade, but there's cops right outside waiting to take you away as soon as you're all better, so you must have gotten yourself into some trouble."
Nikki buffers, eyes widening, "I-" Her hand reaches up to her forehead and comes into contact with bandages, "Well I guess that explains the headache."
The nurse gives her a pitying smile. Nikki's mind then goes to Ray. "My fiance, has he been here?"
She thinks for a moment, "Well the police don't let people visit patients they are arresting, but I think reception said something about there being a strange fella who was here asking about you."
"That'll be my Ray," she says more to herself that anyone else.
"You know," the nurse keeps talking, "the police will want to come in here questioning you now you're awake, do you want me to try to buy you the night to rest up a little before they come in here?"
"That would be really amazing, thank you." Nikki gives the nurse a weak smile, "I'm in no state to deal with cops right now.
That night Nikki is restless. Her head hurts and she misses Ray. Just when she feels herself drifting off to sleep, the door creaks open, and a tall man in a doctors coat walks in. He is pushing a wheelchair. There's something about his face that makes her headache worsen.
"Oh, hello," she greets groggily.
He starts to move his hands and it takes her a second to register that it's sign language.
"I don't know sign, sorry." she hopes he can read lips.
A strange look crosses the mans face for a second, and he points to the wheelchair. Eventually she realises that he wants her to get in it.
"I think I can walk fine." Nikki shuffles to the edge of the bed and goes to stand up, quickly crumping back into the bed, "I stand corrected I guess."
The doctor wheels the chair over to the side of her bed and helps her into it by crudely hoisting her out of the bed and into the wheelchair. Honestly she probably should be asking more questions about why she is being wheeled out of her room in the dead of night, but she is way too tired to really question anything right now.
The doctor wheels her out past the police officer asleep at his post by her bedroom, and takes her down an elevator to the first floor, where he quickly pushes her into a bathroom and locks the door behind him.
That's when it hits Nikki that perhaps this strange man is in fact not a doctor.
"What are we doing in here?" she questions, watching him as he leaves her chair in the corner of the bathroom and starts trying to push open the window above one of the toilets. She's not really sure why she bothered asking him anyway. Eventually he pops the window open and walks back over to her, fishing around in his coat pockets until he produces a notebook and pen. She watches him write something down before he shows the paper to her.
You are going out the window.
I will meet you on the other side after.
She looks at him for a few seconds like he had just grown a second head.
Definitely not a doctor.
"Who the hell are you, and what is this?!" She is way to out of it to deal with this shit, but she supposes it's better than getting arrested for a crime she doesn't remember committing.
He squints, reading her lips, and scribbles something in his notebook, turning it back around to show her.
I am a friend, and this is a rescue.
And that's how Nikki wound up face first in a bush underneath the hospital bathroom window, having been unceremoniously shoved out of it by the faux doctor.
5-ish minutes later heavy footsteps approach where she is laying. She seriously hopes its the strange man from inside the building and not a security guard or a real doctor. Despite the fact that she had met him 20 minutes ago, and he's basically in the process of very politely kidnapping her from a hospital, she finds herself trusting him entirely.
The source of the footsteps is confirmed seconds later when Nikki is hauled up out of the bushes, and flung over the mute mans shoulder.
Boys Don't Cry Gator Tillman/Popular!Reader High School AU
CHAPTER ONE
chapter two
(kind of short because I'm trying to gauge if people would want more of this)
Warnings: mentions of piss in a NON SEXUAL way, violence, sexual references.
Credit for the barbed wire divider: @pixopix (go check them out if you write fanfic and want to make it pretty, because they have so many awesome dividers with so many aesthetics)
You've been in the same school as Gator Tillman your entire life. You sit next to him in english, and have heard every rumour surrounding him from grade 1 till 12, where you both are now.
You have spoken to the boy exactly three times.
The first time you spoke to Gator was in 4th grade. He was quiet back then. It was like that for most of elementary school. Rumours floated around that kid like ghosts from day one. The three main stories you remembered hearing from that era were that his mum left their family because she thought Gator was a weirdo (not a very likely story, but the people spreading it were 9 year old's who thought Gator was the weirdest person ever, so they didn't really care), that Gator must be adopted because "Sherif Tillman is so cool, there's no way they are related", and that Gator pisses himself.
Your first interaction with him had been brief. You'd asked him if he had a spare pencil, and he had answered with a short, blunt "no."
Your second interaction was in ninth grade. By that point he was more of a talker, but never hung near your crowd. You were quite likeable and pretty, which as a result, made you popular. He was apart of the group who hung out under the bleachers smoking and skipping class. There wasn't much overlap between the groups.
There were still rumours about Gator, but they had gone from speculating on his family life to accusing him of creeping on chicks and doing hard drugs, at the ripe age of 14.
You had been walking home after school one day near the end of the year, when you had seen a group of the older boys on the basket ball team kicking at a bush and laughing to themselves. After they had cleared off you made your way over to the bush where you found a beat up Gator Tillman. He had refused to look at you, glowering into the distance like looking angry enough will hide the fact that he has a black eye and tear stained cheeks. He managed to choke out a tearful, "go away."
You didn't really know why you did it, but you found yourself sitting down next to him on the floor, and hugging him. You had half expected him to punch you in the face, but he just stiffened. You can vividly remember how you had sat like that for a few minutes before out of the blue he turned and kissed you softly on the lips then stood up and left without looking back at you.
That night when you got home you went to wash your makeup off in the mirror and saw Gators dried blood on your bottom lip. You caught yourself wondering for a second if your lip gloss was on his.
The third and final time you interacted was two weeks ago when you walked in on him pashing some girl in the stairwell and apologised awkwardly as you hurried past them.
Gator has come a long way from being an awkward mute in elementary school. Now he's grown into a grade A ass-hole. You can say with 100% certainty that Gator and that girl didn't last two days, because that's just how it is with Gator.
Your school isn't very large, only 400 or so students, and you are pretty sure Gator is going to run out of girls to get with pretty soon with how fast he is going through them. He's tried to hit on basically all of your friends, and part of you is kind of offended that the school's biggest player hasn't even tried to get with you. You'd turn him down of course, you know you're worth more than a bonk in the back of Gator Tillman's pick up truck, but that doesn't stop you from questioning why he hasn't so much as looked at you since that evening in ninth grade when he kissed you.
please let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters! Also feedback is always appreciated.
Once again, go check out @pixopix for cool dividers because look how fucking cool those dividers are.
Honestly I really do like Fargo S2 but it’s not nearly enough about Hanzee Dent. Like it’s extremely about Hanzee Dent when you get down to it but not enough even.
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