Gator isn’t even sure why someone like you is into him.
Going out of your way to make him hear or smell you was nearly frustrating to him. It only reminded him that he doesn’t have the ability to really see who’s flirting with him. All he knows is you smell nice, you feed him well, and you have keychains that sound like a cat bell. He can’t even begin to imagine what you see in him.
“Gator!” You catch him on his way back into his apartment-he could barely suppress his groan when he heard the click click click of your heels hurriedly approaching him. He manages to force his irritation to come out as a sigh, his voice a familiar annoyed grumble in response. “What’s it now, doll?” “Do you want some cookies?” “I’m okay. I still have left over pie” he huffs, gesturing in your direction with a dismissive wave “you just want me fat.” The giggle you give him in response was like a wind chime, melodic in a way that could almost annoy him. “I’m not making you fat-I wouldn’t mind you fat anyhow” “Fat and blind? Gee, what a way to get a lady’s attention” his voice was much more bitter now-not at you, more so just..frustrated.
“Well..” you began again, quieter this time as if you didn’t want to frustrate him further. “…Want me to cook you a real dinner?” The offer hung in the air. Rejecting you would feel wrong-you like him, he likes you. Accepting? That would make him feel small. He didn’t want to be the one asked out, he saw that as a man’s job, the other way around felt like even more humiliation on top of it all.
His hesitation made you back pedal, taking it as rejection before he could say anything. “Sorry-Dumb question-” he pouts as he hears you move away from him this time. “No—! No-just..” he sighs. Frozen. Almost stuck in place until he let out a long breath and quiet grumble. “…can I come over for dinner Saturday?” And god-he could practically hear the smile in your voice. “Yes! Absolutely-Saturday works fine!”
Yay tysm for requestingggg ily🫶🫶 I went for a different kind of reunion, hope that's okay!
From this prompt, feel free to send one in!
Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader
wc: 414
The steady beep of the monitor had been your white noise for the last few days. Your neck and back ached from the awkward angle you'd had to sleep in, stretched across two uncomfortable hospital chairs. Not that you could call what you'd been doing sleeping. It was more a case of closing your eyes and replaying that call you'd received on repeat until light seeped through the thin blinds of the hospital room.
You had never been so terrified, bundling into your car, still in your pyjamas and speeding all the way to the emergency room. Blinded. You'd been told when you arrived. Everything stopped, your head spun, your stomach lurched. Burned. His eyes had been burned.
You stretched your neck and watched the steady breathing of Gator's chest, and the slow feed of the painkillers through the IV into his arm. His throat clearing startled you out of your chair, you hadn't realised he was awake.
“Gator?” You asked, placing your hand on top of his, feeling his instinct to pull away, but forcing himself to stay still.
“You’re here.” He said, his voice thick and gravelly from not being used. The tone was low enough that he could almost mask the surprise, and relief that bled through. Almost.
“Of course.” You murmured, your eyes moving across the bandages wrapped around his head, and your hand lifting to brush back his hair. “Where else would I be?”
He scoffed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Fuckin' anywhere else.” He spat through gritted teeth, still refusing to acknowledge your touch. “M’fuckin’ broken, doll.” He murmured, his teeth clenching, the muscle in his jaw pulsing.
“Hey,” You said softly, taking your hand up to his face. He flinched as the back of your fingers brushed against his jaw, the touch loving, and tender before you slid your hand against his face, cradling his jaw in your palm. At first, he stiffened, his head instinctively turning towards your hand before remembering that he wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. “M’not going anywhere, Gator.” You stated, your thumb tracing his skin, just underneath the edge of the bandage.
Gator went so still, that you thought he had stopped breathing. Then, slowly, and gently, his shoulders relaxed, as if you’d just confirmed that his deepest fear was not about to come true. You were staying.
“Idiot.” He mumbled. The corners of your lips lifted as you leaned forward, slowly turning his head to bring your lips against his.
Blind Gator getting his dick sucked for the first time
Thoughts? 👀
See because I don't want to be insensitive and say something stupid, assuming that it's the same as being blindfolded, but...😭
Gator's a bit hesitant, ever-so-slightly emasculated when you tell him to lay back while you do all the work, but he'd have to remind himself that you're trying to do something that's gonna make him feel good. Something he knows he likes. And God, does it feel all the more intense when he's not able to anticipate your next move. His hips jump when you put your hand on his thigh. His own hands are fisting the bedsheets when he feels your breath blow warmly, calmly over the velvety skin of his cock.
And of course you're asking Gator if he's okay, if he's ready for you to treat him with your mouth (obviously he's nodding his head rapidly, nearly whining as he tries to push himself up against your face to hurry up).
He used to make crude comments when he still had his sight, like how you looked like a million dollar porn star on your knees, but he's beating himself up a little that he overlooked the subtle, underappreciated parts of your blowjobs. The little fidgets of your fingers into Gator's thighs as you focused intently on lathing your tongue around the spongy head. The small clearing of your throat as you got ready to take the whole thing in. The flutter of your eyelashes against his taut abdomen if you managed to take him to the hilt. Even though he has memories of how you'd look up at him while doing it, he finds himself pushing those aside to make room for these new ones.
But there's a bit of muscle memory there too. Once Gator gets a bit more used to the feeling, his big hands are easily finding themselves buried in your hair to be little more "guiding," as they always are 🤭
While Gator’s in prison, he teaches himself how to draw again. It’s always been one of his only outlets for his feelings and it becomes even more important to him after everything happens. Before Gator lost his vision, his drawings were dark, haphazard, and messy. You were familiar with Gator’s drawings. Whenever you visited his room, you would avoid looking at them; something about the rawness of them was harder to look at than the posters of half naked models that covered his walls.
When he gave you his first drawing after losing his sight, you were surprised to see that it was a delicate field. The details weren’t perfect, he was still struggling to translate everything onto the page without being able to see it and the colors were off, but there was something so beautifully genuine about it. It was a side of Gator you’d only seen a few times in your relationship. Gator explained that he’d remembered his mother taking him out to a meadow on the edge of their property for picnics when Roy would have meetings at the house.
Your praise only made Gator more determined to improve his abilities. Every time you visited him in prison, he would hand you the drawings he’d made in the time since you’d seen him. At first, he only gave you the softer ones, pictures that were easier to explain. Eventually, he began to show you the darker ones. Including his interpretation of the last thing he saw before losing his eyes.
But the most common drawings were of you, they were usually just small portions of your body or face instead of full portraits. Gator told you that he wanted to remember every bit of you since he’d never be able to see you again. Sometimes, he’ll ask you to describe yourself, just to make sure that he has everything right.
A/N: In the scenes with Gator’s room you can see drawings he made on the walls and I just love that idea.
Thinking about doing little things for blind!Gator to help him adjust:
★ Buying a braille label maker and putting labels on drawers, cabinets, and boxes around the house so Gator can find what he needs easily without getting frustrated.
★ Taking Gator to an animal shelter that specializes in training guide dogs so he can find the perfect one for him. He spends hours petting and playing with the dogs before making a choice (he claims that it took so long because he “needed to explore all his options”).
★ Making sure the TV always has audio description set up so Gator can watch any show or movie he wants without having to fiddle with the settings or deal with the regular audio.
★ Describing your outfits to him and letting him feel the fabric of the pieces you’re wearing (he loves it when you do this with lingerie, specifically the lace kind because he likes the way it feels).
★ Finding new ways to do certain tasks like cooking so Gator can start to regain his autonomy and sense of control. Feeling like he can’t do things on his own pisses him off, which means that you’ve learned and taught him a lot of tricks to help him be more independent as he’s getting used to everything.
Gator is stubborn as hell and refuses to ask for help, no matter how much he needs it, so you find ways to help that he won’t complain about (or at least won’t complain about as much).
A/N: I’m back on my Gator bullshit and I wanted to write blind!Gator again since I’m working on a Daredevil!Gator fic! I also just wanted to do something less brain rotting than what I posted this morning lol (my search history is filled with like 15 different frats and information about college football 💀).
I was wondering if you would write a soft little fic with Gator from the end of the show? He's escaped out of the tunnel and got patched up by the medics but instead of Dot coming by, the cops called his gf or almost gf/best friend/ acquaintance but they have feelings for each other and she comforts him and is the only person where he can fully let go and be himself and open up and maybe they confess their feelings because she was so scared to loose him. I know he's such a loser but the ending always makes me emotional because he's such a lost and scared bubba and I want to hug him and make it alright 🥺 thanks love 😘
Ok so...I went through so many rewrites of this one for multiple reasons 😶 Was getting too into a version that had the whole history of their relationship intercut (will be repurposing that draft at some point), and deleting lines I wanted to save for the fic I'm planning. SO! I think I've got a good compromise here 😅
Tags: Soft!Gator Tillman, female reader, established relationship, bittersweet, fluff, minor angst, comfort, clinginess, brief mention of family planning, L-bombs, author got emotional while writing
“He’s conscious and stable, but I must warn you, ma’am, he sustained significant injuries of the eyes. Basically, he’ll never be able to see again.”
“Right over there, ma’am,” the solider said, motioning with the butt of his riffle towards a male figure slumped on a stretcher.
You thanked him quietly, balling your shaking hands into tight fists in an attempt to calm down. The solider walked off to speak with his commanding officer. Slowly, you approached your boyfriend. Gator didn’t look…as bad as you’d been expecting based on your debriefing, but it still broke your heart in two to see the sterile white gauze wrapped around his head like a thick blindfold.
“Gates? Honey?” You called out, voice warbling slightly. The sniffling man picked his head up towards your general direction, spine straightening as he whispered your name.
“B-babe? ‘S that y—they actually called ya?” He asked froggily.
“Of course they did. I’m your emergency contact, remember?” You replied, gently taking his stubbled face into your hands. You stroked that one sensitive spot he liked between his ear and jawline. Gator shivered.
“…O-oh. Yeah, right, ‘s right.”
The blind man sighed, leaning into your comforting touch. A million thoughts were racing through his mind, had been before you even showed up. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, completely unsure of which he wanted to say first.
Should he apologize for trying to act like his dad despite all the times you said you’d rather him be himself? Or for how he purposefully didn’t tell you anything about Ole Munch or the attempts to kidnap Nadine? Why not apologize for the future, like how he was going to be wearing an orange jumpsuit for a long fuckin’ time, which would prevent you two from starting your own family like you’d recently been discussing all starry-eyed under the covers when neither of you could sleep?
You huffed out an amused chuckle, able to see the metaphorical gears turning in his head despite half of it being covered.
“You don’t have to say anythin’ you don’t want to, Hun.”
Gator’s breath hitched. You smiled warmly, imagining how he’d be looking at you with his big hazel eyes if he could. Bringing a hand up to card through his loose brown hair, you added,
“You’ve been through quite a day, yeah? Probably not good to beat yourself up more than you already are.”
His naturally pouty lips trembled. His empty sockets stung, trying their best to produce tears that would never come. With a small croak, Gator brought his arms up to wrap around you.
“C-can ya hold me?”
Without hesitation, you did as he asked. Your boyfriend whined, tightening his hold as heavy sobs wracked through his body. This was the real Gator Tillman, you thought; The vulnerable, kind soul that’d lost his way trying to live up to impossible standards set by a monster. The boy you’d fallen in love with long ago and stuck by through all his ups and downs. You scrunched your eyes shut and bit your lip to hold back your own broken sobs.
“He didn’t, he never, daddy never loved me,” he blubbered into your chest. “Ya probably already knew that but, b-but I—”
“Shh, it’s alright,” you cut him off, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “’M not here to say I told ya so, Gator. That’d be cruel.”
“I kept thinkin’, thinkin’ 'bout ya when I was t-t-tied up and, and, and thinkin’ I was so goddamn stupid for chasin’ him for it," he said, shakily breathing as he tried to muster up the courage to finish his thought. This sort of ‘stuff’ didn’t come easy to him like it did you. His heart was racing, ringing something loud in his frostbitten ears.
"…’Cause whole time, whole time I already had someone who loved me. S-someone who loved me just as much as I…as I…l-love…”
Your boyfriend tilted his head up when he felt two warm drops land on his cold skin. You whimpered, finally allowing your tears to fall freely from your red eyes. Steadying his hands against your waist, Gator pursed his lips and tried to seek yours out. You swooped down to meet him halfway.
“I do love you,” you sobbed against his mouth, “I love you so goddamn much!”
It wasn’t the first time you’d told him that, far from it actually, and yet…
Don’t know if this is cheating haha but maybe can you do both 🩷 and 💞 together with Gator? Xxx
Send me an emoji and I'll write a fic for a kiss [CLOSED]
🩷 [ Comfort ] - A tender kiss to provide comfort or reassurance
“What if she don’t like me?”
Gator had stopped rubbing your stomach, lips now pressed in a familiarly tight way. Like he wanted to pretend that he didn’t just ask that in favor of doing his whole “Gator pullin’ a Gator” song and dance for you to deal with. You furrowed your brows, bringing your hand to rest on top of his. He tried to pull away, but you wouldn’t let him. The muscles around his eyelids twitched in a ghost of a squint. You traced the outline of his hardened profile with your own eyes, voice steadily reassuring him,
“She will. You’re her daddy.”
“Tch. Yeah, obviously, but…”
“But…?” You pressed, thumb rubbing soothingly slow circles into the back of his hand. The former deputy’s breath hitched, his nose turning pink as he forced a cough out from his throat. You knew better, of course, and this was just another one of his tells that he was going to get vulnerable (something he didn’t particularly care to be or appear as).
“’S not like every man’s worthy of bein’ one. I mean, look at my old man, he—”
A sniffle, suddenly. He swallowed it down with an annoyed groan, bringing his unrestricted hand up to pinch off the leak coming from his nose. Although he’d talked about his rough upbringing and crime entangled life before he’d met you, it’d always been at length. Like an unforgiving beast that Gator never allowed out unless half the leash was wrapped around his grip.
You squeezed his hand against your protruding belly and your future daughter growing underneath to ground him back to Earth.
“…I keep wonderin’ if, if that old ass sayin’ bout apples fallin’ off the tree’s got some truth to it. Y’know what I mean?”
“Er, Honey, I don’t follow. What’s this really all about?”
“Shit, yer really gonna make me say it?” Your boyfriend asked, voice cracking as he slightly faced you with a bittersweet smile, lips parted enough to show the straight edge of his teeth and the tongue lightly pressing against their backs. His nose was leaking even harder to make up for the tears that’d long stopped production from his eye sockets.
“Don’t wanna end up like my dad,” Gator hoarsely mumbled, voice coming out something thick through the lump in his throat. “Don’t ever wanna make my baby girl go through all the, the…fucked up shit I had t’ go through growin’ up, but his blood’s my blood. How ‘m I supposed to keep from yellin’ at her when she catches me on a bad day, or, or worse? I don’t think I could live with m'self if, if I were to—"
You interrupted his stream of self-doubt by bringing his hand up off your stomach and to your lips, gently kissing his knuckles. A simple gesture, but it worked every time. Gator sniffed again, turning his face fully towards you.
You smiled and whispered, “C’mere.”
As fast as he could, your boyfriend was holding himself above you, holding his breath in anticipation. You cupped his jaw with both hands and guided him down to you, pressing a tender, reassuring kiss against his natural pout. Gator’s arms almost gave out from the elation and love coursing through his body, but he couldn’t allow himself to give in. Not when you were in such a physically fragile state yourself. He sighed as you carded a hand through his hair, moving your lips to peck against the cute moles dotting his face.
“Wish you weren’t so hard on yourself,” you muttered against the crook of his nose. “I think you’re gonna be a great daddy.”
“Ya make it sound so easy,” he mumbled back, searching out your lips with his. “Makes me wanna believe yer right.”
“I’m your girlfriend, aren’t I? I’m always supposed to be right,” you breathlessly chuckled, accepting Gator’s kiss.
He snorted, pulling away to lay down next to you. As if it had a mind of its own, his arm immediately curled around your body to hold you close and provide you with a semblance of protection. Had he still had his sight, he’d have looked up to the ceiling pointedly away from you as the next shaky thought came to mind after a few minutes of silence. But since he didn’t, he faced you plainly, voice a bit deliberate as he earnestly asked,
“Babe, what do ya think ‘bout the name ‘Allison’?”
Note: You don't have to have seen Daredevil to understand this. You can just read this as a vigilante!Gator fic. All you need to know is that Matt and Foggy are lawyers, Gator is Matt's assistant and Reader is Foggy's. This also takes place in NYC (specifically Hell's Kitchen).
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, non graphic mentions of blood and injuries, mentions of trauma and abandonment, religious guilt, suicidal ideation (from Gator), Gator struggles with how his eyes look (blind!Gator), no use of y/n
A/N: I've had this idea for a while and I finally wrote it! I love writing for Gator and writing this made me think more about how the events of Fargo s5 would change him (because we never get to see that in the show for some reason).
Inbox | Masterlist
The devil is bleeding at your doorstep.
The fabric of his dark, rain soaked mask clings to his face. Gashes in his long sleeve reveal pale skin and aching wounds underneath. Dirt reaches from his black cargos down to his combat boots. The figure in front of you is nothing like the sleek vigilante whose photo has been splashed across every article and news station in the city.
The devil stumbles forward, a gloved hand flies out to grip the door frame and steady himself.
“Aren’t y’ gonna help me out here?” He grunts.
The voice immediately clicks in your brain. Gator Tillman. You almost can’t believe it. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you, causing you to see a threat as a friend.
“Gator?”
“Who else would it fuckin’ be?” Gator snorts, then winces.
After a beat, you wrap Gator’s arm around your shoulders and haul him inside your apartment. Together, you hobble over to the couch.
“Lie down and… give me a second.”
Gator follows your instructions, his body taking up the entirety of your couch. You rush to grab a first aid kit from the bathroom, as well as extra bandages and hydrogen peroxide. When you come back into the living room, Gator’s sitting up on the couch with his shirt off. The injuries aren’t the first thing that catch your eye; a tattoo on his upper arm is what draws your attention.
“Does that say ‘LOL’?”
“Just shut up and get this over with.”
You roll your eyes, then remember that he can’t see it, so you follow it up with a scoff. Still, you sit down on the couch next to him with your makeshift nursing kit. Now that you’re closer, you can see old scars mixed in with fresh bruises and cuts. His back has the worst scars; what you can only assume were lashes from a belt cover the area. Gator shivers when you trace your finger down one of the scars.
“You’re supposed to be dealin’ with my actual injuries, not shit from when I was a kid.”
“If you want professional treatment, then you should go to a professional. I’m a legal assistant, not a doctor.”
“I ain’t a doctor either, but I know which parts to patch up.”
“Do it yourself then,” You thrust the bottle of peroxide into his hand.
Gator frowns and pushes the bottle back to you, “Just do this for me. If you don’t help, that makes you… what’s that word Matt told me? When ya don’t like cripples?”
“So I have to help you, otherwise I’m ableist?" You laugh.
“I’d say laughin’ at an injured blind guy is ableist. You can get cancelled for that kinda shit.”
To avoid encouraging his insanity any further, you pour peroxide onto a cotton pad and start cleaning a large cut along Gator’s side. He hisses and jerks back.
“You coulda warned me.”
“I’m warning you now,” You reply in a sugar sweet tone.
Gator lets you continue working on the wound, only letting out an expletive every couple of seconds. Once you’re done, you use medical tape to keep gauze pressed against the cut. You continue to work in silence until you get to a particularly nasty gash on Gator’s left arm.
“What happened?”
“There’s this gang, Russians, Matt and I have been trying to take down. I was stakin’ the place out when I heard one of the leaders beatin’ on his girl. She was begging him to stop, and I… I couldn’t take it, so I stepped in. But they got the jump on me and beat my ass.”
“Does Foggy know, too?”
Matt is technically your boss, but Foggy’s the one you work for directly. The thought of him lying to you, especially about something as big as this, doesn’t make any sense. Gator being able to keep a secret like this is already shocking enough.
Gator shakes his head, “Just me and Matt. He was Daredevil first; once I came along, he decided to train me. Gave me a purpose. I actually help people now.”
Gator’s past still isn’t fully clear to you. You know bits from what he’s been willing to tell you, what Foggy has let slip, and the few articles that exist online about the Roy Tillman situation. Someone clearly worked to make sure Gator got a fresh start after whatever happened to him.
“You won’t be able to help anyone if you keep ending your nights like this.”
Gator shrugs, “At least my life would mean somethin’. Wouldn’t have to die a complete waste of space. It would be my penance, I guess.”
Gator’s usual ego has been replaced with something darker. He does this because he doesn’t mind dying. Gator wants to die.
“Whatever you did won’t go away if you get yourself killed,” You keep your eyes focused on his wounded arm. “Making mistakes doesn’t mean you owe God or anyone else a debt. It just means you’re human.”
“You get that from a self help book or somethin’?”
“I just went to therapy. You should try it sometime.”
Gator chuckles, “Nadine made me go to a shrink after everything happened. Didn’t do anything for me.”
“Is Nadine your sister?”
You’ve wanted to know since you first heard Gator mention her. He also mentions a woman named Lorraine whom he doesn’t seem to like very much. Foggy told you she’s the one who got Gator the job as Matt’s aide. But you have no idea what her connection is to Gator or to Nadine.
“Kinda. She used to be my step-mom even though she’s young enough to be my sister. Nadine was the only person who saw something worth fixin’ in me.”
“So she got Lorraine to get you the job?”
“Look at you, Nancy Drew,” Gator grins. “Lorraine’s her bitch of a mother-in-law. Just wanted to get me out of the way.”
You finish bandaging up Gator’s arm and look back at him.
“Are your legs injured at all?”
“Bruised. Nothin’ a couple bags of frozen peas won’t fix. Matt’s got a whole supply at the apartment.”
“Okay,” You pause, trying to figure out what else to check. “Oh, take off the mask so I can check your head.”
“No can do.”
“Why not? You can just peel it off. It’ll only take a few seconds.”
Gator tenses up, “I’ll handle it.”
“You made a big fuss to get me to help you, so let me do it.”
“No!” Gator snaps. “You’re never gonna want t’ go near me again.”
You take his hand in yours, “I deal with your idiocy all day, I’ll be fine.”
“This is different.”
“Jesus, just tell me,” You squeeze his hand.
Gator goes still, then says, “The mask is the only thing coverin’ my eyes. I take it off and you’ll see them. It’s not pretty under there. I’m disfigured… deformed. You don’t need to see it. I don’t want ya to.”
Gator’s choice of glasses, which you always make fun of, makes a hell of a lot more sense now. Matt’s glasses just look like regular tinted glasses, and you’ve seen him take them off more times than you can count; but Gator wears dark sunglasses that cling to his face, and you realize now that you’ve never seen him without them. Gator tilts his head down and pulls his hand out of yours, balling it up in his lap instead.
“You’re the only one who treats me like I’m normal,” Gator whispers. “Matt thinks what happened to me was God’s plan, a second chance I was blessed with. Foggy treats me like a little kid who needs to be watched like a fuckin’ hawk. But you–”
Gator’s voice catches in his throat. He coughs, trying to brush it off.
“I get it, Gator,” You place your hands over his balled fists.
“I think that’s why I like ya so much. You get me. Nobody really does. You keep up with me, make fun of me, know that I’m a complete loser and aren’t afraid to let me know that ya know it.”
“You make it sound like I hate you.”
“I kinda wish you hated me so I didn’t have t’ worry about disappointin’ you.”
Gator sounds so young; the hardness in his voice is completely gone. There’s a level of adoration to his words that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Your cheeks grow hot. Are you really that important to him?
“Don’t get a big head about it,” Gator adds.
“Too late. My ego’s already doubled in size.”
“If you heard everything I thought about you, your ego’d probably be the same size as the Empire State Building,” Gator laughs. “Need you to stay humble.”
“What do you think of me?” You tease.
“You’re perfect,” Gator murmurs, scooting a little closer. “I ain’t ever seen you, but I know you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. And yer voice makes me feel nice whenever I hear it.”
“Gator,” You bring his hands up to your face, letting his fingers make contact with your skin. “Maybe feeling will help you get a better picture.”
“I might not stop after I get started,” Gator smiles.
“That’s fine by me.”
Gator’s fingers drift over your features, then start to hone in on certain places for minutes at a time. Gator feels every angle of your nose and plays with your eyelashes. His smile grows as he takes in more of you.
“You’re even more beautiful than I thought,” He moves his fingers down to your lips, his thumb begins to stroke your lower lip. “Can I?”
“Yes,” You reply quickly.
Hesitantly, Gator leans in, pressing his lips against yours. You deepen the kiss, trying to let him know that it’s okay to go further. Gator places one hand on the back of your neck, moving the other down your body to your waist. The kiss is reverent. Every movement he makes is to worship you, to learn how you feel.
When he finally pulls away, your entire body feels hot. Gator barely did anything, yet your body is still reacting.
“Turn away.”
You spin yourself around so your back is facing Gator. He moves behind you, but you can’t tell what he’s doing.
“You can turn back now.”
When you do, you see that he’s taken his mask off for the most part. He’s holding the mask up to his eyes so he can stay comfortable while you examine him.
“Get it over with,” He urges.
You check his head for any bloody spots or visible damage, then ask him a few basic questions since you can’t do the ‘how many fingers am I holding up’ trick.
“I think you’re fine.”
“Told ya so.”
Gator tilts your head away again and slips the mask back on, “I did somethin’ in the past. There was this guy, he, uh, he found out about it. Got real pissed. I didn’t know until he attacked me… brought me to some barn and told me I needed to pay for what I did. An eye for an eye is what he said. Then he… came at me with this rod he’d heated over a fire and…”
You try to look back at him, but Gator holds your head in place.
“The guy let me go, sent me back to my dad… and he,” Gator starts to choke up. “My dad told me I wasn’t useful anymore and left me. It was so cold, couldn’t see anything. Could barely feel anything. I still remember the bloody rag on my face and how alone I was. What a disappointment I was.”
“Your dad seems like a piece of shit.”
“He is,” Gator snorts. “Still wanted him to love me. It was all I wanted. And he just threw me away.”
You break out of Gator’s grip, turn around, and wrap your arms around him as tightly as you can. No wonder he is the way he is.
“That’s his loss, not yours.”
“You still want me now that you know?” Gator asks sheepishly.
“I want you more than ever, Gator. Don’t go out and get yourself killed. I’ll be pissed.”
Gator chuckles, “Got it.”
A/N: Writing this felt SO good! I might be open to writing a sequel because I just love this AU!
