Jos

[ykyouluvme]

ik that’s right

[catwmah]

i never thought i need gator tillman in my life so bad

[lustfaeeryy]

are we seeing the DETAILS of mr. Keery??? I'M DYING! 😩😩

[ykyouluvme]

ima eat it

[heavenknows13]

✰ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟿: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍'𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝙶𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛.

cw: smut, p in v unprotected, oral sex, mentions of firearms hehe ♡

wc: 4.6k

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧.

✰ 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟿: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍'𝚟𝚎 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.

Someone knocked on my bedroom door hard enough to drag me out of sleep.

“Just five more minutes, Dad,” I mumbled into the pillow, burrowing deeper into the tangled sheets. 

“What did you just call me?” a voice drawled from the doorway.

The door swung open. Gator stood there.

He filled the doorway, his uniform crisp, his slicked-back hair gleaming.

My eyes snapped open. “What are you doing here?” I pushed myself up, the sheets pooling around my waist.

I suddenly became aware of everything at once.

My hair.

The oversized shirt I'd stolen from dad years ago.

The fact I'd probably been drooling on my pillow five seconds earlier.

Great.

He stepped fully into the room. “Came to pick you up. Your dad’s already on the way.” His gaze swept over the posters on my walls, the faded The Police concert poster, a tattered Bruce Springsteen tour print, the Kings of Leon album art. He took in every detail, his presence suddenly overwhelming the small space. He paused, a faint smirk touching his lips. “Shit taste.”

I ignored him, already rummaging through my dresser for my black jeans. The fabric felt cool against my skin as I pulled them on.

He moved to my vanity, his reflection momentarily obscuring the framed photo perched on the mirror’s edge. It was the same photo I'd looked at a thousand times.

Me at five. My mom's arm around me.

Gator in the background, blurry and halfway out of frame because he was already running away from his mom.

“Do you remember her?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it, almost hesitant.

I froze, the jeans halfway up my legs. I straightened, turning to face him. “Yeah. Do you?”

For a second I regretted asking.

His eyes dropped back to the photograph. He shrugged. “Not much. But I do remember she was always wearing the kind of dresses you like to wear.” 

A small, genuine smile touched my lips. 

I pulled a plain black t-shirt over my head and walked to the bathroom, brushing my teeth with furious strokes. I shoved water through my hair with both hands.

It didn't help.

As I turned to leave, he moved, catching my hand and pulling me back. His mouth found mine. My lips parted, a gasp swallowed by his kiss, the taste of mint and that artificial strawberry sweetness.

“We’re going to be late,” I murmured against his mouth, my hands finding his shoulders, pushing, but not truly resisting.

“They can start without us.”

“No, come on.” I pushed harder, finally breaking free, my breath catching in my throat. 

My eyes landed on the wooden box on my nightstand, Roy’s gift. A reminder of his choice.

Gator followed my gaze but didn’t say anything.

We stepped outside. The morning air smelled like wet dirt and pine. He opened the passenger door of his patrol car. I slid in, the leather seats still cold. 

As we drove, his right hand found my left thigh. His thumb moved in a lazy stroke against the denim. Occasionally, his fingers would creep higher. Each time, I'd rest my hand over his. He'd pause there for a second, smiling to himself, before letting his hand drift back down. 

“We have to finish something,” he said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “Don’t forget.”

I didn’t answer, just stared out the window, watching the fences stretch for miles, the badlands terrain blurring into the distance.

We found them at the edge of the Tillman property, where a scattering of cottonwood trees provided a natural backdrop for a makeshift shooting range. Roy and my dad stood side by side, their figures silhouetted against the rising sun, the sharp crack of gunfire echoing across the open land. 

Dummies, stuffed with straw and wrapped in burlap, swayed from ropes tied to the lowest branches, their heads battered, their chests riddled with holes.

“We thought you got lost,” Dad called out, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, his rifle still smoking faintly.

Roy, without a word, gestured toward the firing line. His eyes met mine, then flickered to Gator.

I took the stance, the weight of the colt .45 settling in my hands. The target, a dummy’s head, seemed impossibly small in the distance. I squeezed the trigger. The shot cracked, sharp and clean, a bullseye. 

The gun kicked against my palm.

Not hard. Still, I adjusted my grip automatically, the way Roy had taught me years ago.

The morning air now smelled like burnt powder. Smoke drifted lazily from the barrel. 

Roy didn't smile.

He almost never smiled.

But he nodded once.

I felt ten years old again. Standing in a pasture with a rifle too big for me, waiting to see if I'd done it right.

I hated that feeling.

No. That wasn't true.

I hated how much I liked it.

The dummy swayed slightly in the breeze, the hole in its forehead clean and centered. Dad shifted beside Roy, lowering his rifle.

The silence stretched.

Not uncomfortable. Expectant.

Like everyone already assumed I'd hit the next one too.

Gator stepped up next, his movements less fluid, more forced. He aimed, fired. The shot went wide, kicking up dust near the dummy’s knee.

“God, Gator,” Roy’s voice boomed. “Try a little, son.”

A small, ugly part of me had enjoyed watching him miss. Enjoyed seeing him fail under Roy’s stare. 

Not even because it was funny.

Because it felt fair.

But when Roy started applauding for me after every headshot, the satisfaction curdled into something sour. 

I knew that look on Gator’s face. Knew what it felt like to stand there and come up short in front of him. 

Still, I kept shooting. Each round found its mark.  

The applause kept coming.

A slow clap after one shot. A nod after another. A correction about my stance. A comment about my grip. 

Every little thing felt like being handed another piece of something I'd been trying to earn for years.

Beside me, Gator missed again.

A shoulder instead of a head. A chest instead of a shoulder.

Shots most people would've been happy with.

Roy wasn't most people.

I could feel the mood shifting without anyone saying it. The way Dad suddenly stopped talking. The way Gator started taking longer between shots. The way Roy's attention stayed fixed on me.

Five minutes ago I'd been enjoying it.

Honestly.

I had.

Then it became impossible to ignore what Roy was doing.

And suddenly the whole thing felt different.

I looked over as Gator reloaded. His movements had gotten tighter. Like he could feel all of us watching. I knew that feeling, everybody on this ranch knew that feeling.

The next shot cracked through the air. Another hit from me.

Roy clapped once again. My grip tightened around the Colt, the metal felt warm now.

I didn't want him to stop.

That was the worst part.

I wanted the approval.

I just didn't want it like this.

After a few more shots, I lowered the gun, its barrel still warm. I extended it to Gator. “Wanna try it?”

“No, no,” Roy interrupted. “He didn’t earn it.”

My hand, holding the gun, remained extended. Gator hesitated for a breath, his eyes darting from the gun to his father, then back to me. A flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes. He reached out, his fingers brushing mine as he took the weapon.

He aimed, his stance awkward, but his eyes narrowed with a sudden intensity. The first shot rang out, a sharp crack. The dummy’s neck snapped back. Another shot. The shoulder. Then the hand, the burlap tearing, stuffing spilling out. Finally, the cheek, a ragged hole appearing where a face should have been. 

“That one was good,” I said. I genuinely smiled, which surprised me. 

Not that long ago, I would've rather swallowed nails than compliment Gator Tillman.

My eyes met his. He smiled. The moment stretched, suspended, until the sound of our fathers clearing their throats behind us shattered the illusion. I dropped my gaze, the ground suddenly fascinating. 

“You could’ve done better,” I mumbled. 

He rolled his eyes.

But the smile stayed.

We spent another couple of hours there, the sound of gunfire and the smell of gunpowder filling the air. We tested different distances, different firearms.

There was still competition between us. There probably always would be.

He still annoyed me.

I still wanted to beat him.

Every single time.

Some things weren't changing.

When we returned, the Tillman house was already abuzz with the preparations for lunch. The massive dining table was laden with plates of cold cuts, fresh bread, and a hearty stew. 

Gator, after a quick meal, announced he had rounds to make, his deputy duties calling him away from the ranch.

My dad and I returned to our house. Dad spent the afternoon making his own rounds, checking fences, mending broken gates, the endless tasks of a ranch hand. 

Roy, however, had found a new “responsibility” for me. He wanted me to go over the winter supply inventory, a tedious task of checking ledgers and counting hay bales. 

It was a subtle, quiet promotion in the Tillman hierarchy, another thread added to the web that bound me to them.

Evening settled over the ranch as the wind picked up, rattling the windowpanes.

Dad and I were halfway through dinner. The only sound was forks against plates.

“Gator’s outside,” Dad said. He was looking out the window. “Go check if he needs something.”

My stomach tightened before I even stood up.

I stepped out into the dark. The wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my cheeks, pulling at the t-shirt I’d changed into. 

The black patrol car sat in the dark. 

The headlights were off.

The engine hummed quietly.

I walked up to the passenger side, the cold metal of the door chilling my knuckles as I tapped against the glass.

Inside, the glow of the dashboard lights illuminated Gator’s face. He looked exhausted, his slicked-back hair slightly mussed, a few damp strands falling across his forehead. 

He didn’t roll down the window. Instead, he leaned over, reaching across and opening the passenger door. The movement pulled his uniform tight across his shoulders.

“Get in,” he said.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the wind.

“Get in,” he repeated, exhaling a cloud of strawberry-scented smoke that briefly hung in the air before dissipating into the night.

I climbed into the cabin. The leather was cold enough to make me shift. He didn’t look at me as I buckled my seatbelt. He just threw the car into reverse, the gravel crunching under the tires as he backed out.

We drove in silence, leaving the flickering lights of the houses behind. He headed deep into the open land, the headlights cutting through the tall grass.

He drove until there wasn't much left but darkness and empty fields. A few cottonwoods stood off in the distance, bent crooked by the wind. He finally stopped in the middle of a field. He cut the engine. The sudden silence was deafening. 

“You’re not talking now?” Gator asked. He turned his head slowly, his eyes flicking to my mouth before settling on me again. “Nervous?”

I gripped the edge of my seat, my knuckles white against the dark leather. “Nervous about the wolves out there, maybe. You’re not exactly intimidating, Gator.”

He let out a short, dry laugh. “Is that right? Always got a sting in your tail, don’t you? Just like your old man.”

“Better that than whatever your problem is,” I snapped back.

Gator’s jaw tightened, a muscle clenching along his jawline. He reached out, his hand hovering near my face, his fingers twitching, before he pulled back, shoving his door open. “Out. Get out.”

I followed him, the night air a shock against my skin. We met at the front of the car, the hood still ticking as it cooled in the vast quiet. 

The moonlight turned his skin to marble, his eyes to pools of ink. He didn’t give me time to breathe. He reached out, his hand shooting forward, catching my wrist, pulling me toward him with a jerk that stole my breath.

“You think you’re so smart,” he hissed, his face inches from mine, his breath hot against my lips. “You think you know everything.”

His grip on my wrist tightened. The moon caught one side of his face. The other disappeared into shadow.

My gaze dropped to his lips, slightly parted, the lingering scent of mint still clinging to them. The memory of his kiss in my bedroom flared in my mind.

My brain went blank.

Then I saw the look on his face.

The way he always looked at me when he thought he had the upper hand.

And I knew exactly what button to push.

“All I know is that I see a boy playing deputy because his daddy told him to,” I whispered. 

The words landed. Something in his face broke. His expression tightened. For a second he looked almost caught off guard.

His grip on my wrist became a vise, pulling me forward until my body collided with his.

His mouth found mine, not a kiss, but a collision. It was wet and desperate, there was no gentleness. 

My hands flew to his neck, my fingers diving into his slicked-back hair. It was stiff with gel. I didn't care. I grabbed a fistful anyway and pulled.

He groaned into my mouth. His arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me effortlessly. My legs locked around his hips, drawing me closer, molding our bodies together.

He slammed me back against the warm metal of the patrol car’s hood. The heat of the engine seeped through the denim of my jeans.

His lips tore from mine, leaving them swollen and tingling, and he buried his face in the hollow of my neck. His breath, hot and ragged, fanned across my skin, sending shivers trailing down my spine. His teeth grazed my skin before sinking in lightly, the sharp sting stealing my breath.

“God,” he muttered against my neck. “I’ve wanted to shut you up like this for months.”

Something in my stomach tightened. Not butterflies. Worse. Lower.

My head fell back, my eyes squeezing shut for a second.

I was tired of the games, the tension, the constant push and pull. 

“Then do it,” I whispered. “Stop talking and do it.”

He pulled back, just far enough that his eyes locked with mine. He reached down, his movements deliberate. The buckle of his deputy vest clicked open. The sound felt weirdly loud out there. He shrugged it off and let it hit the dirt beside us.

For a second he looked younger without it. Less sheriff’s son. Just him.

A soft, jagged laugh escaped my lips.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

I lifted a hand again, finding his hair still half in place, the front already falling loose. I pushed through it, finishing the job, dragging it fully out of that careful slick until it dropped into his eyes. 

“Your hair,” I said.

“Quit that,” he said, but he was smiling already. His hand moved to the hem of my t-shirt, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against my bare skin. “This comes off. Now.”

I helped him, my hands moving with a frantic urgency, pulling the soft cotton over my head. The air was cold enough to make me shiver. 

He followed suit, his t-shirt joining the discarded vest in the dirt. Moonlight caught on the light dusting of hair across his chest, tracing the lines of muscle beneath.

Then he leaned down, his mouth finding my collarbone.

He moved with a frantic energy. His hands, usually so confident, fumbled with the laces of my boots, then the buttons of my jeans. He tossed my shoes aside, their soft thud swallowed by the grass, before peeling my jeans down, the denim scraping against my skin. 

I sat on the hood, exposed to the elements, to him, in nothing but my bra and underwear. The cold air made me shiver. He stood between my legs, his gaze fixed on me. 

He was staring at me so hard it almost made me want to cover myself up again.

Almost.

“You’re… fuck– you’re unreal,” he whispered.

He reached for my bra, his fingers, surprisingly gentle now, finding the clasp. It unhooked with a soft click, and the lace fell away, joining the growing pile of clothes on the ground. 

My breasts, bared to the night, tightened, my nipples hardening instantly in the cold. 

I almost crossed my arms over myself automatically. I’d had this body my whole life and somehow being looked at still made embarrassment hit me like a reflex.

Especially by him.

He didn’t wait. He cupped them, his thumbs rolling over the peaks with a rough, insistent pressure that made my back arch.

“Gator,” I moaned, my hands clutching his shoulders, my nails digging into the warm skin beneath his shirt.

“Yeah?” He looked up.

“Touch me.”

He dropped to his knees between my thighs. He didn’t go for the bare skin yet. He pressed his face against the delicate lace of my underwear and started kissing me through the thin fabric, his tongue licking at the center of my heat. 

The wet lace dragged against me every time he moved his mouth, it made my legs tense so hard my knees almost slipped against the hood.

His fingers pressed through the fabric, rubbing slow circles against me, just enough pressure to make my hips jerk forward before I could stop myself.

“Say please.” 

That stupid smirk pulled at his mouth again. The same one that had made me want to slap him about a hundred times before.

“God, Gator, don’t do this,” I gasped, even while my hips pushed forward anyway.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say you want it.”

I let out a frustrated sound and tipped my head back toward the sky.

“You know I do.”

His hand tightened slightly against my hip.

“Say it.”

I hate this man. 

“Please, Gator. Just touch me.”

He didn’t wait. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, tugging them to the side. He slid two fingers inside me. A jagged scream tore from my throat, echoing across the empty field. His fingers curved and suddenly my whole body jerked. I sucked in a sharp breath so fast it hurt.

He kept a steady rhythm, his fingers dancing within me, teasing, tormenting, driving me closer to the edge. His other hand came up, finding my breast, squeezing it hard, a rough, demanding touch that somehow amplified the pleasure. 

I was a mess of sensations. 

The world had narrowed to this, to him. He pulled his fingers out and brought his hand to my face, his fingers glistening.

“Taste yourself,” he said, his voice husky.

I opened my mouth, my tongue darting out. I took his fingers in, licking them clean, the taste of myself, of him, exploding on my tongue. I held his gaze. His eyes widened.

He stood up, his movements fluid, uncoiling, and unbuckled his pants. The zipper, a harsh rasp in the silence, split the air. His erection sprang free, thick and red, tipped with a bead of precum. 

“Can I touch it?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He nodded, his breath hitching.

I reached out, my index finger catching a small slick bead at the tip of his cock. I brought it to my tongue.

“God,” Gator groaned, his head snapping back, an involuntary sound torn from his throat.

He grabbed my waist, his fingers digging into my skin. He pushed me back until I was lying flat on the hood, the metal now cooling beneath me. He hiked my legs up, resting my feet on the smooth, cold surface of the car, splaying me open to him. 

My face flushed, even in the biting cold. 

"This is your fault, you know that?" He said.

He positioned himself, the head of his cock, hot and engorged, rubbing against my opening, dragging through the heat I’d made for him. 

I was shaking. From the cold. From him. At that point I wasn't sure there was a difference.

“Gator... come on, please.”

“There she is.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward slowly. He looked smug as hell about it too.

I wanted to hit him. 

He dragged the tip of his cock against me again.

“Been running that mouth for years.”

Another slow drag. Somehow it felt slower this time.

“Now you're asking nice?”

“Fuck you.”

He laughed once, low and satisfied. Like he was enjoying this way too much.

“Maybe in a minute.”

He pushed forward, a fraction of an inch, the tip pressing against my slick entrance. “Tell me again. Tell me what you want.” He pulled back again, the movement agonizing. 

My body screamed in protest, my hips bucked before I could stop them. My breath caught in my throat.

“Just fucking do it,” I choked out. “Just– fuck me already, Gator.”

His smile widened. “That’s better.”

Then, in an instant, the teasing vanished. He lunged forward, burying himself in me in one deep, violent thrust. 

My whole body tensed around him automatically and for one horrible second I thought I might actually start crying from how overwhelming it felt.

He didn’t start slow. He grabbed my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh, and began to hammer into me, his movements a desperate rhythm that drove me to the brink. 

“You’re so tight,” he gasped. “So fucking tight, baby.”

"Don't… stop,” I sobbed, the words torn from me. My head thrashed against the metal of the hood, my hair, now wild and tangled.

He pulled back, just enough to gaze into my eyes. “Look at me.”

And I did, my eyes locking into his. 

I’d never seen him look like that before. I could see how much he wanted this. 

Not cocky. Not annoyed. Not trying to prove something to Roy or to me or to himself.

Just gone.

He pushed back into me hard enough to make my breath catch again. “Tell me you like it.”

"I do."

"Yeah?"

"Don't stop, don’t–,” I whispered. 

He reached down, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing it with a frantic intensity as he continued to drive into me. Everything hit at once and I couldn't keep up with any of it. The pressure kept building low in my stomach, pulling me closer until I could barely keep my legs still.

“Gator! I’m gonna–”

“Yeah. That’s it. Fuck–”

And I broke. My body convulsed, a series of violent, involuntary spasms. My internal muscles clamped down on him, pulsing around him as the pleasure tore through me. A sound ripped out of me before I could stop it. 

My vision blurred. I felt the wetness of my release flooding between us, coating my thighs.

He didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He lasted another minute, his movements becoming more desperate, more jagged.

“Where do you want it?” 

I didn’t answer with words. My body, still trembling from the aftershocks of my climax, had a will of its own. 

I pushed against his chest and slid out from under him, dropping off the car. My legs felt like jelly but I managed to drop to my knees on the cool, damp grass. I looked up at him. He was holding his cock, his hand moving fast. 

I opened my mouth, my eyes never leaving his.

He stepped forward, his breath rattling in his lungs. He guided himself, his erection still thick and throbbing, into my mouth. I took him deep, my tongue swirling around the head. I only managed five or six hard, throbbing pulses before I felt him erupt. The heat hit the back of my throat, thick enough to make me choke for half a second before I swallowed every drop.

He let out a low, shuddering moan, his knees buckling slightly. He stayed there for a moment, his hand resting on the top of my head, his fingers tangled in my hair, before he gently backed away, pulling himself free.

He let out this weird breathy laugh, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He reached down, still breathing hard, and held his hand out toward me. I took it, my fingers lacing with his, and allowed him to pull me to my feet. 

I smiled and leaned in to kiss him, the taste of him still on my lips. 

But he stepped back, a shaky laugh escaping him, a sound of surprise and disbelief.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s… that’s too much right now.”

“Why? Come on, Gator,” I teased, a bright smile spreading across my face, a lightness I hadn’t felt in years bubbling up inside me. I took a step toward him. 

“Get away,” he muttered, but he was smiling, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes, crinkling the corners. 

It was a smile that didn't have a hint of his father in it, a smile that was entirely his own.

We dressed in silence, the air suddenly feeling much colder than before. He leaned back against the hood of the car, pulling out his vape. The blue light of the device flickered as he took a long drag, the strawberry-scented smoke swirling around his head like a ghost, dissipating into the night.

I pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a trembling hand, the flame a tiny beacon in the darkness. It tasted harsher after breathing in his stupid fake strawberry smoke all night.

“I don’t like it,” he said, his voice quiet, almost thoughtful.

I blew out a stream of smoke. It drifted into the night.

“What?” I asked.

“The smoking,” he clarified, his eyes fixed on the glowing tip of my cigarette.

“Why would I care what you like?” I said, taking another drag even while he watched me do it.

I climbed onto the hood of the patrol car, sitting cross-legged beside him. 

We stayed there for hours, watching the bloated silver moon arc across the sky. 

We didn’t talk about Roy, or the ranch, or the fact that my father was probably wondering where the hell I was. 

For a little while, none of it seemed to matter.

We talked about stupid things. The way the stars looked out here, a movie he’d seen three times, a ridiculous action flick he tried to describe with exaggerated gestures, the time I’d accidentally shot the neighbor’s weather vane when I was ten, a story that made him laugh, a deep, genuine sound that resonated in the quiet.

It hit me then that we'd never done this before.

Not really.

Usually there was a fight. Or somebody watching. Or Roy lurking somewhere in the background.

This was just us.

Gator laughing about something stupid. Me pretending I wasn't paying attention.

I looked out across the field and felt something settle in my stomach.

Whatever this was, there wasn't any undoing it.

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧.

tag list: @kurtsw7rld96 @keerygirlie98 @louisbelongstome28 @skkeletonns @lover-rep-fanfic

[jorkingtodjo]

Genuinely how do I save fics to read later it's so annoying🫩🫩🫩🫩 (is there any options that I don't know abt help🫩)

[jorkingtodjo]

Standing ovulation or wtv they call it😍

[polkadoli]

stop putting ur shitty ass oc in the x reader tag

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace: Chapter nine The Sink

wc: 3.4k not proof read, tried getting it out asap - sorry

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since that ride home. Three weeks since the argument. Three weeks since you hit a nerve inside of him. Three weeks since you last saw him. Since you last heard his voice.

The texts would come in, usually once a day - maybe every other day. He had started sharing his location with you (he always had yours but he hadn’t given it back). It wasn’t much, but it was almost like a promise that he was still allowing you access. You’d watch that location religiously.

It was the most viewed app on your phone. You’d stare at it.

You saw when he’d get to a hotel on the state line, when he’d stop for McDonalds for the 4th meal in a row, when he’d stop at the gas station. You would watch as he made countless of drives, several hours long - over and over. You saw when he’d start heading back to Lehigh, though he never stayed long. He would be in town to get fresh clothes, update Roy, and maybe get a few minutes of sleep. You began to notice that he would text you as his icon would be passing familiar places to you. 

Sometimes he would text, and you’d notice he had just passed by the salon. Other times it would be passing by your favorite coffee shop. But more often then not, he would text you as he was passing your house driving up the country road to get back onto the highway taking him further and further from you.

It would always be something small.

🐊: saw that lucys released their summer drink menu. lemme guess, your favorite is the strawberry refresher?

🐊: hows geico doin

🐊: you gonna go that rodeo? a couple of the ranchers are bull ridin in it this year. let me know and I can probably get you snuck in to see those lil highland cows the kids are showin

🐊: yards gettin long, ill call dalton and get him to come cut it sometime this week. its snake season so wear your tall boots in case.

And occasionally,

🐊: miss u.

You’d respond, but he wouldn’t ever keep up the conversation - you couldn’t tell if its because he didn’t want to or if it was because he got busy. Regardless, you really fucking missed him.

The house grew cold, despite the summer heat rolling in. It seemed as though the house missed him just as much. It groaned at invisible steps that it wished Gator would be taking across its surface. The afternoon light refused to shine in where it usually did, unwilling because it knew it was going to catch itself in his beautiful hazel eyes. The wind even whispered through drafty areas in the home as if saying ‘when is he coming back?’ Or ‘is he avoiding us’? God, you wish you knew.

You knew he was in town, but you knew that ‘in town’ meant he was here for 2 hours tops and that every waking moment was filled with something important he had to do. It didn’t stop you from watching that app. The second you saw his icon turn down the country road, you sprung out of bed. You were determined to make today the day that he finally stopped.

There was about 8 minutes in between where he was and your home, you had to think quick. You threw on one of his black stark county sheriffs t-shirts and a pair of cut off shorts (your shortest ones), pulled on some sneakers and ran out the front door.

You pulled out the long extension hose from the side of the house and filled up a 5 gallon bucket full of water, then you added the soap. There was nothing that said ‘stop here’ more than a hot woman washing her car while being dripping wet, right? 

You there your hair up into a messy bun and shook it a little, trying to make it look like this wasn’t completely arranged. Your 4runner was shocked as you began hosing it down - the only person who had hand washed her was Gator.

Allowing the water to spray you every once in a while to keep up the act, you slide out your phone to see his location.

1 minute away.

Show time.

You run around the back of the car, allowing yourself to be the first thing he sees. Giving it a close spray, the water bounces off of the metal and drenches the front of your shirt, water dripping down your legs and dribbles on your neck.

The cold water instantly hardening your nipples, which you did deliberately - choosing not to wear a bra.

Gravel.

You hear him before you see him, the engine roaring louder behind you.

Lights, camera, action - superstar!

You flip your head over your shoulder, innocently, like this wasn’t apart of your masterful plan for the past week.

He threw open the door to his truck and plopped one foot onto the running board and stood up on it - torso leaning in between the door frame and the cab.

“You gotta work top to bottom. Otherwise all that shits gonna fall down and you’ll have to clean the sides again. Thats basic knowledge, sweet.”

His eyes lowering at your soaked tits in his shirt, just for a second.

“But how am I supposed to get up there?” You say, kinda serious actually.

“Gimme the hose and I can spray it from right here.”

You listen. Water keeps sliding down your hand from the leaking nozzle, ultimately dripping off your body at the elbow. You make your way towards him, the movements making your breast move along with it - nearly hypnotizing him.

You reach up and give him the hose, his fingers momentarily grazing your hand.

He begins spraying the top of your vehicle until all the grime is gone. He lowers it back down to you, before he finally hops out of the truck.

There is something inside of you that died and went to Heaven when he slammed the door. Meaning he actually was going to stand here with you for a minute, though he left the engine running.

“Hows the assignment?” You ask.

“Shit.” He responds, flat.

“You getting some sleep?”, you knew the answer.

“Fuck no.”

“Miss me?”, you reach.

“Always.”, he looked at you like he was mourning.

It made you smile hearing it, but didn’t like what it cost you.

“You changed your hair”, he says as he begins smirking - letting his guard down.

You smile. He noticed your hair.

“Yeah, added some blonde highlights. One of the girls needed a model and figured it was time for a change.”

“Doesn’t look bad.” He mumbles, still grinning.

You laugh, looking to the ground at your wet sneakers.

“Is that your way of saying it looks good or that you don’t like it at all, but you don’t wanna hurt my feelings?” You giggle out.

He straightens, and gives you a soft smile. You missed his fucking smile so much. Damn near took everything inside of you not to pull out your phone and take a picture.

“You look good no matter what you do. I just didn’t expect you to change it… well, I guess I'm just more shocked because if you did change it - that just, well, that just seems like you would’ve sent me a picture or something. At least told me about it.” He rambles, clearly uncomfortable. 

The distance had been hard for him. Harder than it was for you, by a long shot. With the lack of sleep, work load, junk food, knowledge of Wade still being in town, not being able to keep him away from you, and most of all… not being with you everyday? Yeah - Gator was close to falling apart. But he couldn’t show that to a soul. They see that as a weakness in his line of work, that makes you a target. People go digging for a way to take him down and you’re the only thing on the list that could debilitate him.

“Would you have wanted me to tell you about it? To send you a picture?”, you respond softly to the admission.

“Yes. God, you have no clue how desperate I am for some normalcy while Im out there”, he says with an exhausted laugh, rubbing his hand down his face, “Its not been great… if I'm being honest with you.”

You didn’t know anything about what he was doing. He didn’t say, and you didn’t ask. You had been invited back to the ranch after church last Sunday and Wade and Roy were talking - they had mentioned drug trafficking? That sounded fucking dangerous, enough where you lost your appetite, meanwhile everyone else continued on. You hated the idea of Gator being out there.

“Want to come in? You can tell me about it?”, you offer, “I made pie this morning, cherry - its so good.. I may or may not have had a slice for breakfast and another for lunch.” 

He laughed at that. Fuck you Gator and your perfect laugh. 

“I would love that, but.. I gotta get on the road.” He got quiet.

Your heart dropped, even thought you knew it was coming.

“Oh, yeah - yeah, now worries! Hey, I can grab you a slice real quick and you can come say hi to geico.” You turn, not even waiting to see if he’d follow, he always did - fuck, what if he’s not?

You turn to look, and he’s only a couple steps behind you. Your body relaxes.

You kick off your wet sneakers outside, and pull off your socks before you go in - drenched from the water hose.

He watched every movement you made like a fucking hawk.

As soon as you pulled your screen door open, the smell of the fresh baked pie swirled out into the air and met Gator on the front porch. It was like a welcome home gift from the house.

“Smells delicious, oh my god.” He genuinely almost moaned out, “Ive been eating nothing but shit on the road, you fuckin spoiled me to death and now im suffering.”

Your heart broke and warmed all at the same time.

He made his way over to the terrarium system Geico was in.

“Hey buddy, your mama taking good care of you?” He sweet talked him, giving his head a little scratch, “Ive missed you..”

You smile as you pull out a knife from the drawer. The pie dish was sitting on the counter and you slid it over to you, making the glass rattle against the countertop.

That tore his attention back over to you. He began moving into the kitchen.

Ever so quiet, you didn’t even realize he was leaning against the counter looking at you from behind. You thought he was still saying his hellos.

You push up onto your tippy toes and open up one of the top cabinets and reach for a piece of Tupperware to pack his pie away in - then you heard him clear his throat.

You knew he must be staring at your ass, so you whip around to catch him in the act.

He absolutely was, and unashamedly at that.

“So in the past few weeks did you grow a couple inches on me, or have you always been able to reach that shelf and just pretended to be helpless so id get in there for you?”

Caught ya.

You tucked your lips into each other, trying not to laugh. It was so true, you always could - you just liked him to do it for you. Just like you knew how to change your oil in the car, but had him do it for you. Just like you could move the couch, but you liked him to do it so you could watch his muscles. Just like you knew how to swim, but pretended you were no good so that he’d keep you close and wrap an arm around you - you were swim captain in high school. Worked as a lifeguard in the summers for a couple years. Still held your certification, but he didn’t need to know any of that.

You liked Gator feeling needed. Because he liked being needed.

“I must’ve grown, Gator Bug!”, you say with fake astonishment, shaking your head like you didn’t have a clue. You walk over to him, swiping a finger into the cherry pie on your way.

You bring it to your mouth and run your finger over your tongue before closing your mouth around yourself and sucking it clean.

He could feel everything inside of him getting tense, he wanted you badly. And he wanted you in every way. Fuck, he missed you.

His hands shook, holding himself back. His call time for his team was in 3 hours, and he was now 3 hours away… definitely overstayed - but who the fuck could blame him. Look at you.

Hair a mess, falling out of the bun. Fresh face, you hadn’t worn any makeup today - skincare was making you glow. Your lips were slightly stained from the cherry pie a beautiful flushed pink, making you eyes look even greener than usual. There you stood in his damp t-shirt, nipples still peeking through. And his favorite cut off shorts. Barefoot. Fuck - you were irresistible.

“I gotta go baby…”, trying the pet name to see how you’d react.

Your heart skipped a few beats before you took a step back. Reaching for the to-go container, you sliced a hefty piece and placed it inside and sealed up the lid. 

“Come get more later, okay?”, you whisper, pretending like this is just another shift and that he is gonna come crawl into your bed at some ungodly hour and hum into your ear until you slipped back into sleep - dreaming about him, as usual.

“As soon as I'm off, I’ll come straight here babygirl.”, a sad promise he knew would take a while to fulfill.

“Gator. Call me.”, You cross the kitchen floor and slide your arms around his waist.

He wraps his arms around you immediately, feeling like home. Even though he was squeezing you, you felt like you could finally breath for the first time in weeks.

“I will try to call.”

“No, you will call. I know you spend hours on the road. You can give me 20 minutes of your time every once in a while. Ive hadn’t gone a day without you for two whole fuckin years and then you ghost me for three weeks, I hate it.” You mouth back.

“You know why I didn’t call… I told you - its way too dangerous.”, he shoved back, arms still around you as he spoke into the side of your hair, inhaling deep so he can get the smell of your vanilla shampoo.

You huffed in annoyance and tried to pull back, he just squeezed tighter and placed a hand on the back of your head to bring you back to his chest.

“Gator bug, nothin is gonna happen to me!”

“If I get caught, they will go through my phone and find a reason to get me to talk. You’re the only thing that could. Seeing multiple call logs with you, a million texts? No. I cant do that.”

“Then get a fuckin burner and if you think you’re bout to get smoked out, then you destroy it.”

His entire body shook in laughter, shaking you along with it.

“See… this is why I want you to stay out of this, baby. You just described like every spy movie scene I've shown you. This is so much scarier than watching it on a screen, honey.” He started to laugh, until he thought about the reality and it made him swallow it.

“Ive been safe, Gator bug. Ive got my gun, Ive got my taser and pepper spray. Ive got that nail bat thingy you made. I have a large collection of high heeled shoes that im sure can be pretty dangerous. And the ranch is less than 10 minutes from here - Im good, I swear.” You whisper into his shoulder.

“But… Im not at the ranch.”

“Yeah but like… Roy is.” You hesitate.

“And… and were you gonna say Wade?”

You inhale slowly, taking a breath of his musky smell - you could bathe in it.

“Well, I mean I wasn’t gonna say it but yeah he is there too, and all the ranch hands. If something bad happened-”

“Yeah, tell me who you’d call. If something bad happens… who are you calling?” He begins to firm his voice, he is on edge, “and don’t you dare say me because you know I'm almost never here.”

“Well if its serious, I’d call the cops, then Roy, and then you - just to let you know.” You start, “But if its not serious…”

“You call Wade?”

“Now thats not fair! Gator, I-”

“Yeah, he called to tell me all about the fox trying to get the hens and he came over and set up the trap. He also told me that you had a flat and he fixed that for you-”, He begins going off.

You fight back, him still holding you to his chest, “No no no, he found me on the side of the road while I was grabbing my spare. I never asked for his help, he just did it! Now… I did call him about the fox, BUT it was because I was asking if I could come get a trap for it and I knew it was in your barn - I didn’t want to go in there next to the apartment and be in there with him again-”

“Again? What the fuck do you mean again? You were in my apartment with him?!” He got loud.

“It was that Sunday at the ranch, when we went shootin.”

He relaxed and smiled at the memory, “Oh, so when he interrupted us?”

“Well… I mean, not exactly. He walked in while I was there looking for my phone.”

He stilled.

“Tell me everything.”

You finally pulled back, and this time he let you.

“He just said some shit about you and me… thats all.” You lie.

He can see right through it… fuckin cop.

“Everything…”

“He told me that I deserved someone who just wants me, and doesn’t fuck the whole town. Said he could be worth my time, and you never were.”, you spill it all.

Gators jaw tightened, as his his grip on your waist. His tongue rested on the front of his teeth, trying to hold the words inside.

His eyes looking anywhere but you. He scanned the kitchen, noticing the pie dish - it looked phenomenal. Then his eyes landed on the clock on the microwave, he winced - he knew he had to leave. And then he saw it, and nearly broke his jaw with how tight he squeezed it.

He shook his head, trying to ignore what he was looking at in your sink.

He knows he doesn’t have time to unpack it now, he has to leave.

“Babygirl, I have to go okay? I needed to be on the road like a long time ago - Ive got a team meeting I need to make.” He pulls you in for a tight hug, then placing his lips on your temple.

You pull back and look at him, nearly in tears. You don’t want him to leave. You don’t want your house to be empty again, your driveway to be void of that big f150, or his boots being gone from beside your slippers. In fact, you don’t want him to leave ever again.

You slide your hands up his chest. One rests on the back of his neck and the other at his jaw.

He wants to kiss you as badly as you want to kiss him.

So, fuck it - he does.

He leans in and you gasp, eagerly leaning in the close the distance.

The moment he touches you, you stop worrying, overthinking, spinning - he wanted this just as badly. He didn’t want to ice you out. 

The kiss was deep, yet soft. And desperately slow. He memorized every movement you made - knowing that he would have to survive off it this moment for who knows how long.

You knew he was goin back and things were gonna be quiet again - but this time you knew how he felt.

But he wrestled with how you felt… not about him - but about him…

His mind keeps drifting back to the sight of your sink.

Your Winnie the Pooh mug.

Next to the green and pink floral mug.

His mug.

In the sink.

Dirty.

————

a/n 💌 STICK WITH ME YALL ITS WORTH IT

Tags: @lcversvoid @gxorgxa0000 @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou  @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @b1uecatt @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @pxlldrown @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @chelliquinn @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @localmika @fantasyreader130 @exooojongdaeee @louisbelongstome28 @strangegirl26sff @bearwithegg @babygirldoll @storiepeckham @jas-mines-things @leclercdream @torntaltos @pinkiepieshepardspie @djobug @eller41 @irllyluvcheezits @madaboutjoe @ilovecowboysyouknowthat @fapqueen @rubywillkins @delphinemix @michaelssassygirrrl @kristywidget97 @luminousdoomsellsword

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace: Chapter eight Gator Tillman can't commit.

18+ mdni warnings: guns, mention of killing, sexual references, idk what else wc: 3.5k not proof read, sorry - I'm getting this out asap

“Wow, she looks so pretty!”

“She looks like a horse for a princess! Too bad she’s daddy’s horse.”

“Can you braid my hair next?!”

“Can you braid mine too? I want a pretty braid!”

You had just finished showing the twins how to braid the horses mane when Gator stepped into the barn. 

Neither of you had said anything after the interruption, quick to change and get to the table before Wade could say anything. Gator stayed in his jeans, but had thrown on a loose white t-shirt and threw on his classic trucker hat. You changed into a pair of white linen shorts and snagged one of his Harley tees from his closet, before slipping into your dusty boots that you kept here. 

Lunch had been quick and easy, just like you hoped. When you got to the big farm table behind the house, the family had already been seated and were chatting rather loudly - almost like a normal function family, but they were anything but. Gator pulled out the chair closest to the end for you, him taking the seat next to Wade. 

“Why don’t you two switch seats? It would be good to have you in the conversations, sweetheart. Down there you wont be able to hear anything. Plus, this is your first official Sunday meal with us so you both are kinda guests of honor - be best if you sat closer instead of on the end.”, Roy said, smile on his face - ever so charming, ever so slick.

You obeyed - you weren’t in the mood to put up a fight. Not with Roy. Not with Wade. And you didn’t want to press Gator when you knew this wasn’t what he had planned for either.

Gator didn’t argue it either, though he did want to press his knife into Wades throat as a warning not to try anything.

The rest of lunch went smooth. Wade took up most of the conversation, answering Roys questions. You tried not to be phased by the looks Roy gave you during some of his answers, clearly trying to see if you were listening - truth is, you were, but not because you cared but more out of just getting through the meal in peace.

After the meal, the girls immediately began begging you to go to the barn. That leads you to now, watching Gator strut in. He doesn’t even realize how good he looks. Collar a bit damp from sweating, his thin rope chain you bought him laid hanging in the wetness of the shirt.

He was passing through with one of the ranch hands in order to get a couple guns hidden in a locked and dusty cabinet stored away in the last stall. Roy decided that having a couple beers and shooting at targets was a good way to welcome Wade - to you that was hilarious, all you could think about it Gator having to restrain himself from aiming the gun at a far more intriguing target.

As Gator passed by you, he slipped a little purple wildflower into your curls without a word. Your eyes met momentarily, heat rushes to your cheeks and you feel your stomach drop - he did things like this all the time, how are you just now realizing you have feelings for him? You turned to watch him as he walked the length of the barn, still carrying on the conversation with the ranch hand. He turned his head over his shoulder and twisted his back slightly, giving you a crooked grin followed by a wink. And just like that, he was gone with the boys.

When Jessica and Maude saw the flower, they lit up.

“Did Gator give you that?”

“I saw John Garner give Lilly a daisy before church on Wednesday - is that what the boys do when they like a girl? Cause John Garner likes Lilly I think.”

“Does Gator like you?”

“Is he your boyfriend? ARE YOU GONNA BE OUR SISTER?”

“Why don’t we grab some of these flowers for Dolly’s braids, huh? Wouldn’t that be real pretty?”, you exclaimed, attempting to steer the excitement of the six year old twins.

“YES!

“Lets go pick out some flowers to put in her braids!” 

“We can put those pretty orange ones in there! OOO! Or the pink ones up by the house!”

“Why don’t you girls ask your mama before you go pulling flowers from the front of the house? I think the wildflowers over by the barn will do just fine”, you say laughing at their eagerness - thankful the conversation turned.

The girls squeal and run out of the barn and into the afternoon air. You always wanted a sister, the closest thing you had to one was Victoria.

Oh my god. Victoria.

You hadn’t even called her after you got ready for Ralphs on Friday - she knows nothing.

You don’t have pockets in your shorts and you had forgotten to slip your phone into your boot. It must still be in Gators room. 

Seeing the girls run to some of the patches of wildflowers, you yell out to them that you’ll be right back.

You make your way into the barn where his apartment is and head up the steps. Opening the door, you get a tingling feeling in your gut. Seeing the bed, its like you can feel his hands on you again. You walk up to the edge of the bed and run your fingers over the comforter. 

You had half a mind to go get him and pull him back up here. God, you want him - you need him, you’re coming to realize. Its never been like that before, what is wrong with you? You’ve never begged for a man, but for Gator? You would likely crawl on all fours to him if he asked you to… you laugh at that thought, knowing full well that its Gator who would be more likely to crawl for you. 

Wow… the thought of that. 

The sound of the door closing behind you shakes you from your thoughts.

“Back in here so soon? If you’re planning on staying here too, I might be willing to share the bed with you if you ask me nicely-”, Wade said with a grin.

“I’m good. Just here to grab my phone.” You make your way towards the nightstand where you had sat your purse down, sliding your hand in to grab it quickly.

As you stood there, your eyes caught something hanging from the bedpost that you hadn’t noticed when you were in here earlier.

Handcuffs.

Your stomach turned at the thought of Gator having another girl in here, locked in those, as he ate her out as devotedly as he just did to you mere hours ago.

“Cousins a bit kinky, huh? I mean, him being a cop… this is probably like the go-to move for him, right?” He walks up beside you, flicking the cuffs.

He sat down on the bed, only a foot or two separating you both.

“Now I wouldn’t imagine he’d put a pretty little thing like you in these…”, he whispered, eyes on the cuffs and twirling them slightly, “No, these are for his other girls - the ones he can fuck and toss until the next time he gets horny but cant have you.” 

He stood up, closing most of the distance between the two of you. Instinctively, you take a step back.

“You deserve someone who would stop all that nonsense and commit to you. Anyone can eat you out, babydoll. But only a man knows how to actually treat a woman like you… how to touch a woman like you.” He continues, your stomach doing a small flip as he stared down at you. The walls felt entirely too close and your skin felt tight.

“See, I know you’ve been waiting for the right man to give yourself too, I bet you’re so desperate to be fucked”, He states as if he hadn’t just met you that morning, “Gator is not capable of giving you what you need. But I might be.” 

He gave you a wink and allowed his hand to brush your waist as he moved by you towards the door. You hear the door creak open, and then close - heavy boots treading down the stairs.

What the fuck.

You cant tell Gator - not now anyways. He was armed with a loaded gun and you knew exactly how that would end. Add this to the list of things you need to talk to him about at a later time.

Annoyed at the situation, the truth behind the words, and the handcuffs - you clamped the other cuff around a post in the bed, locking it solely to the bed. At least if he tries to use it on some other girl, he is gonna have to take a minute to unlock it and probably wonder who close it like this. If you were smarter, maybe you could’ve slipped on one of your scrunchies or your bracelet onto it to let him know it was you. Too late for that level of pettiness now. 

You turn swiftly and leave the apartment, storming down the stairs. You exit the barn and make your way over to the girls who are arguing over who is finding the prettier flowers.

A loud bang stops you in your tracks, head whipping to the sound. Half expecting Gator to have seen Wade follow you into the apartment and have made him pay, but instead, you see Gator lowering his gun and smiling ear to ear.

“I told you I could get a fuckin’ bullseye with my eyes closed!”, he yells out to a couple ranch hands as the group laughs.

Wade nods and lowers his beer from his mouth, “You’ve grown to be a decent shot, I guess you have a lot of practice though.”

“Never miss, either - so keep one eye open ‘cuz’”, he saying sarcastically, plopping a hand down onto Wades shoulder.

It looks like the beer is relaxing him a bit. Thats good - yeah, maybe you need a beer.

“He is a hell of a shot, aint he darlin?” A voice behind you grovels out.

You turn to see the Sheriff.

“Yes, sir. He is.”, you agree.

“Why don’t you come over here and fire off a couple rounds? I know how Gator feels about your shot, but you outta learn.” He stated.

You didn’t disagree. The ranch was less than 10 minutes from your house so you never considered actually learning, Gator was always right around the corner. Anytime you heard a noise, he was there - you knew you could depend on him. But, if he was being assigned to a special task force for the next couple months - it would hurt to learn since he will have his hands busy. 

“You’re right, it wouldn’t”, you say, “though I don’t actually have a handgun, I just have a shotgun I bought on a whim one day” 

The Sheriff actually laughs at that. 

“Well, shotguns are really deadly - probably shouldn’t have picked such a lethal weapon to start with. Let’s see how you do with a handgun and maybe we can get you worked up to a shotgun.” he laughs. 

You two make your way over to the rest of the men, Gator instantly stiffening at the sight of you walking and laughing with his dad. Wade catches his reaction. 

“Calm down Gator. your dad won’t bite - he called me out here to shoot my shot with the girl so if he tried to switch his plan up now, then that would make this pointless for me.” he says smoothly. 

Apparently the beer had gotten to him too, because there was no way he just admitted his true purpose for being here to Gator while sober. 

His dad had assigned him to a specialized task force to get him out of the way to let Wade come and take you. Everything clicked for him. His dad liked you, but maybe he thought Gator wasn’t good enough for you. 

All the buzz Gator had felt, left his body as you finally reached the group. His eyes darkened, focused. 

“Little missy here is gonna give it a shot boys! What do you think?” Roy exclaimed. 

Some of the ranch hands began to laugh, while others who had a bit of a crush on you began to encourage you. you’d never tell Gator, but you’ve kissed two of them. A little kiss never hurt no one. 

Wade lifted himself off of the fence post he was leaning on and walked up next to you. 

“You up for it? you ever shot before, honey?” Wade asked.

Gator instinctively stepped forward. 

Here comes the pissing war.

“She’s shot - and she can be a little wobbly so i’d take yourself back a couple paces buddy.” 

get the fuck away from my girl

“Oh is that so? I’m not too scared of a bullet, Gator.”

i’m not scared of you

“You should be. Especially depending on whose on the other side of the barrel, Wade”

i’ll shoot you, and i will kill you.

Wade smiles… clearly done with the reading in between the lines conversation with Gator. 

“Well that won’t be a problem if I help her with her stance, I’ll be on the back side with her then. How’s that sound, sweetheart?” He turns towards you. 

“Oh uh-“, you are caught off guard.

“She’s got it. I taught her. If she needs help, she can ask. And if she does, she won’t be asking you.” Gators chest pumped out, shoulders back. 

“Okay you two, give the girl a gun.” Roy cleared his throat. 

Gator looked down at you and pulled a gun out of his back waistband. You had shot this one before - it’s lighter, less recoil, less… deadly. he figured it’s the best for you to learn with. 

He offered to buy you that same gun in baby pink. You told him you were worried you’d pull it out too often, which made him laugh - because he absolutely agreed, with most of those pulls being done on him. 

You took the gun from his hand and you felt all the eyes on you. Even from different parts of the ranch, you felt like you were being watched - for all you know, you probably were. 

“Remember, the safety is right here. And use both hands, like we’ve practiced-“

You did the motion, holding the gun out. All of the men in your line of fire scattered, rumblings of nervous laughter across them. 

Gator, trying not to laugh, “Right - but preferably don’t aim it at anyone okay, baby?” he touched your lower back, claiming the right to touch you there in front of everyone.

Being very specific with his wording and touch here, he wanted a message sent. 

You noticed. 

As did everyone else. Roy laughed.

He guided you to the open space, and quietly reminder you about the safety. 

You lifted your arms, raising the handgun and closing one eye to focus. 

He’d helped you practice multiple times with this gun, you weren’t great - but you’ve definitely improved. 

He put one hand on your hip and the other on your back, adjusting your posture. 

“Yeah there ya go honey, whenever you’re ready-“

You didn’t wait for him, you never did. You liked catching him off guard. 

His hands still on you when-

pop pop pop pop

You hit the fucking target.

Every damn shot hit - not a bullseye but a hit.

A roar of applause and surprise came from the men, including Roy - but not from Gator.

You flipped on the safety and looked up at him, right behind your shoulder and he was smiling. A smile that was genuine, confident, and proud.

“Atta girl”, he praised.

He looked out at the target and felt a sense of peace. Each mark on the target felt like a whisper from God that you’d be okay while he was working more - maybe it was his trauma, or maybe yours too… but you depended on each others consistency. He knew that the next couple months would be hard, he knew he wouldn’t see you daily - maybe not even weekly. But each bullet hole proved to him that you’d be just fine.

The rest of the afternoon came and went, Gator had insisted on taking you into town to the local gun shop to buy you the pink Glock. He was able to bypass all of the background checks and paperwork just because of who he is. Honestly, that should’ve worried you - but that kind of authority that he had over people has only ever helped you. 

You were able to leave with the gun right then and there.

You held up the gun to the sunset and snapped a picture for Victoria, sending it to her without context. You still needed to talk to her. Hell, you still needed to talk to him. 

He just watched you and smiled, he never knew someone could make him feel so many damn emotions all at once. He wanted to protect you. He wanted you to be able to protect yourself. He knew that taking on the special operations over the summer put a target on your back, you were his vulnerable spot. Seeing you blissfully unaware of the dangers of the world? He wanted to keep you that way for as long as possible.

“Look!”, you say climbing into the truck, “we have matching guns!”

You pull his out of the center console and hold them both out to the front windshield, trying to give off Black Widow vibes.

“Pow pow powww”…your immature ass.

“Be careful there, sugar -”

You kept messing around.

“Okay, baby-”

Ignoring him again.

“Baby girl, I keep my gun loaded and the safety off.”

Your hands stilled, you slowly set down your gun before placing his back in the center console.

“Alright… thank you”, he says laughing.

Maybe this was a horrible idea. Both of you shared this same thought, as he climbed into the truck.

He pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the main road, and at this point, the sun had fully set.

“Gator bug, we never talked-” you whisper.

“I know.” He whispered back.

“Are we gonna?”, you question.

“Do you want to?”, he replies.

“Well… I mean don’t you start tomorrow? Then who knows how much time you’ll have…”, you say hopelessly.

“Its late, honey. You have an early client tomorrow.”, he says, clearly avoiding the topic.

He always knew your schedule.

“I don’t want it to mean nothing… I want to mean something to you.”, you admit.

He took a deep breath. For the first time in a while, you felt like his feelings weren’t reciprocated.

“I need you safe. You mean… literally everything to me. But it scares me, because I don’t want you in this world - its too dangerous. I am going to be distracted over the next couple months and I cant risk that… risk you, you know?” He rambles.

“So what… you’ll see me every once in a while and just pretend you didn’t flip my entire world upside down this weekend? That isn’t gonna work for me Gator! I cant just act like it didn’t happen.” You yell.

He grips the steering wheel.

“I never said that you had to act like it didn’t happen, but I just cant commit to you further than that right now - not when my work is about to get really dark and heavy.”

“Oh I'm sure that that is the only reason you cant commit to me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He begins raising his voice, he hates doing that to you. He instantly regrets it.

“It means that you get all the girlfriend privileges from me besides fuckin, but you can take a girl in your bed, in your motherfuckin cuffs, in your cruiser - HELL probably in this very backseat but God forbid you take me and give me the last thing you’d need from me in order to make me fulfill every womanly duty in your whole fuckin life! So yeah, Gator, I know full well that you cant commit to me.”

There was a minute of silence, but it was like you could hear his blood pumping.

“Is that how you really feel?”

“Yes.”

His jaw tightens and he nods, pulling into your driveway. 

“Is it because I’m still a virgin? You don’t want to ruin me or something?” You snap.

“Yes, it is. Theres more, but yes - I cannot live with myself if I fucked things up with us after that.” He says, quieter this time.

“Fine. Then by the time you see me again, that problem will be taken care of - does that make you feel better, Gator?” You bite back.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

You scoff.

“What now, huh? That ‘problem’ would be solved and then you are free to have all of me then, right?”

He stays silent, looking out the windshield - he is still.

“Oh let me guess, now you’re gonna say its something else and thats the reason you’re scared to fuck it up - what you in love with me or somethin?”

His jaw clenches.

Fuck.

a/n 💌 i’m sorry im taking you guys on a harder part of the journey - JUST KNOW THAT THIS IS JUST ANGST AND HOT AND ITS ALL GONNA BE OKAY REAAAL SOON LOL

Tags: @lcversvoid @gxorgxa0000 @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou  @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @b1uecatt @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @pxlldrown @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @chelliquinn @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @localmika @fantasyreader130 @exooojongdaeee @louisbelongstome28 @strangegirl26sff @bearwithegg @babygirldoll @storiepeckham @jas-mines-things @leclercdream @torntaltos @pinkiepieshepardspie @djobug @eller41 @irllyluvcheezits @madaboutjoe @ilovecowboysyouknowthat @fapqueen @rubywillkins @delphinemix @michaelssassygirrrl

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace: Chapter six Looney Tunes

wc: 3.6k

warnings: nothing - hella fluffy, this is like the cutest chapter

Your Mamaw and Papaw loved Saturdays. He would get up and start on French toast for the three of you while Mamaw would spend time playing her hammered dulcimer, each filled the house with their forms of love. Papaw and his breakfast, Mamaw with her music. You would wake up and instantly feel engulfed in the love and peace of the home. You’d catapult yourself downstairs, saying your good mornings, and fling yourself to the couch. Looney tunes would be waiting for you - your favorites were always Tom & Jerry or Sylvester & Tweety. Basically a mean cat and a little sly antagonist - you never knew who to cheer for (always Tweety).

You wanted your home to feel like that. Chaos, filled to the brim with love and joy.

This was the exact opposite of what Gator grew up in. His Saturday mornings were alarms at 4:45am, and if he wasn’t out in the barn doing chores by 5am - there would be violent consequences. Gator would get halfway through chores before he was allowed to come inside and eat. It wouldn’t be anything spectacular, but Nadine tried her best for her age. Eggs, sometimes bacon. He never once complained. She would always sneak him a tiny bit of maple syrup on top of his bacon, he loved it sweet.

The only time he ever watched cartoons was when he would be sent on an errand into town. Tucked into the main street in Lehigh sat a little diner, he would peek through the windows and watch through the glass. He could never hear what they were saying, he didn’t know the characters names, but he always looked forward to going to town on the weekends if asked. Sometimes he even saw a kid from school in the diner, he was the son of the waitress. He would sit at the bar on a red plushy barstool watching the shows and twisting absentmindedly. He wondered what it must be like to have a moment like that, and he wondered if that kid even knew how lucky he was. 

He grew up, and now - his Saturdays were different. Roy had plenty of ranch hands, either those who were actual employees or some people just working for him to pay off debts. He didn’t have a need for Gator there anymore. Plus Gator wasn’t even there much in the past couple years to even contribute to the mess - and Roy was not complaining about that. 

These days, if he wasn’t on duty, his Saturdays usually revolved around you - as most of his life did.

After your extremely eventful night, you both rinsed off in the freezing water of the shower - hot water long gone after your little maneuver. Forget a sexy nightgown, you threw on a sweatshirt you had stolen from Gator and sweatpants, while Gator threw on sweats and a t-shirt. You both agreed that you didn’t regret a thing - but, this was worth going slow for… so, fully clothed would be the best option. 

You fell asleep almost instantly, meanwhile, despite being up for now a full 24 hours - Gator was wide awake. He always felt wired after he did a job, his hands felt heavy like a ghostly weight of his gun. He tried to ignore the opened wallet that was laying at the foot of the bed, he knew you found it and that you were smart enough to put together the pieces. Yet, that meant that you were fully aware of what he had done… and you chased him into the shower anyways.

Why did that feel good? He wrestled with the feeling. As if you forgave him for an unforgivable sin. As if you could kiss him and he’d be innocent again. 

Innocence, he’s not really sure if he ever got to have that. Well, until you. You were innocent in his eyes.

He had been laying there for around two hours, he knew the sun would be rising soon. Thankfully he had the day off, though you had one client in the early afternoon. 

He finally started dozing off, only to be smacked in the chest by you. Yes, you… who was snoring 2 seconds before this. You flung your body up sitting up pin straight, you turn to him with the biggest grin - if his eyes weren’t adjusted to the dark enough where he could see you completely, that would have freaked him the fuck out.

“GATOR BUG? I FORGOT TO TELL YOU OH MY GOD!” You swore the house creaked, screaming at you for waking it up. Gators eyebrows flew up in amusement, everything about you just is perfect to him that he isn’t even mad that he probably is going to turn into a zombie soon with the lack of sleep.

“Wha-”, he started.

“THE EX GIRLFRIEND IS PREGNANT WITH MAYAS BOYFRIENDS BABY AND THE BOYFRIEND PAID FOR HER APPOINTMENT AND HIS NEW TRUCK BUT NEVER EVEN GOT THE EX A CHRISTMAS PRESENT LAST YEAR! I WIN!” You yelled, clearly not even phased at the time.

Gator laid there, holding back his laughter. He had several different emotions right now. He was exhausted, truly exhausted. He unfortunately was still horny, how could he not be? He was amused, he couldn’t help but laugh at your childlike behavior. He was astonished that you woke up just to tell yell that to him. But most of all, he was grateful… you were okay. You were silly and happy and okay.

He knew trauma comes in waves, but right now - you were okay. 

“Now sweet, don’t get ahead of yourself - I saved the final blow until the end…” he spoke soft, stark comparison to your yelling.

“Wait what?! Huh! That is not how this works! You are supposed to go, and then me and then I win - thats how we always do this!” You playfully grab his arm and start shaking him, all he can do is laugh.

“Baby, let me teach you something. In court, there is the argument, the counter argument, and the rebuttal - or the final say.” He leans up onto his elbows, shifting his weight towards you.

“I gave you the information I had, you gave me yours, and Im gonna hit you with the final blow - my rebuttal. You’re gonna want to hear this, sweet. I promise you.” He leans in close to you, lips inches away. His eyes were tired, but full of trouble.

You lean in closer, probably too close but you don’t care and you know he doesn’t either.

“Tell me then Gator baby, I’ll take your blow…” hitting him with the double entendre. 

Gator smirked at that, loving your filthy mouth that he finally got to taste.

“I arrested the boyfriend because he had warrants out of Dalton County for 2 cases of unpaid child support. I knew she was pregnant, and he admitted it was his and he ditched her to get out of the responsibilities. Give it another month or two and your little client would have probably been knocked up too. He’s currently sitting down at the station, waiting to be picked up in the morning by Dalton County Sheriffs Department.” He grinned, knowing he won.

Your eyes were almost out of your head, you felt bad smiling but this was crazy - one of the crazier competitions you’ve played with your Deputy. 

“Wow… it pains me to say this, Gator bug… but I think you might’ve won this time.” 

You both began giggling and leaning into each other, and he takes the opportunity to brush his nose against yours. Suddenly, you weren’t laughing - he completely flipped the mood with one little touch.

“So…” His cocky grin on full display, “since I already paid for our drinks…”

He leaned in and slowly took your ear lobe in between his teeth, grazing over it softly.

“What do I win?”, He whispered into your ear slow and deep.

You swore everything stilled within you, you couldn’t even tell if you were still alive - you’d bet money that you weren’t. 

“Well…”, you look over at the leopard print alarm clock on his nightstand, “Its nearly 4am, if you give it another probably 30 minutes then the damn rooster will start crowin’… so I will give you the option - a good 30 minute nap before he starts goin’ and ruins any other sleep you might get for the next few hours OR I could always give you another blowjob-”, you laugh out to him.

“Mmmmm I love the sound of that… I know exactly what I want princess.” He leans in and gives your neck a kiss and your hand trails down his torso.

“Yeah? You know what you want baby?”

“Mhm”, he hums giving you one last kiss on your neck, “Okay goodnight!”

He rolls over, tugging the covers over his head, and after a couple seconds he peaks one eye out from the corner of the blanket.

You hadn’t moved, your jaw was wide open in a huge disbelieving smile - he burst out in laughter and grabbed you pulling you into him.

“You are such a fucking tease, Gator Tillman!”, you yelp out as he tickles your sides, making you bury your face into his chest.

He grabs your face and pulls you into a sloppy but tender kiss, neither of you thought this could happen. Neither of you thought this could be real for you. You were wrapped in his arms, his sweatshirt, him in your sheets, in your house. This could be yours.

You both fell asleep shortly after your little battle. You let out soft snores, mouth slightly open and most definitely drooling onto his shirt. Your leg swung over his waist, one of his hands rested on your raised hip and his other cradled the back of your head. It was a deep sleep, one you both desperately needed.

The sun began to rise, and along with it, of course - the fucking rooster. And wouldn’t you guess who slept right through it? Gator Motherfuckin Tillman. Damn him.

Not you though. The second your eyes opened you began to feel a buzz in your body. You kissed him. Not only did you kiss him, but he kissed you back. And you sucked his dick AND he fingered you? Holy shit. None of that was a dream, right?

Should you wake him up and ask… but what would you say?

‘Soooooo like did we mess around like night or uh this morning kinda? Or did I have another sex dream about you?’ No, you definitely couldn’t say that.

You figured the best thing was to just get on with your day and let him sleep. You slipped out of his arms and out of the covers. Your bunny slippers were waiting for you when your feet hit the floor… you smiled - you didn’t put those there. He must have put them there for you while he was up throughout the night. That sort of thing made your heart swell up. No one had ever treated you like this man treats you, and that scared the living shit out of you.

You tip toe into the bathroom, and thats when you see it. Your pink robe laying on the floor and your pretty Victorias Secret 100% silk yellow slip dress laying in the bottom of the shower floor - completely soaked and ruined. Cool, you’ll just schedule some time in your day for a mini funeral for it. Mentally already planning on hopping onto Depop and making Gator buy you a couple new ones to replace this one. You ring it out and you can already feel one small dramatic tear ready to leave your eye as you hang it on the towel rack.

This was proof. Last night was real.

And, you ruined your favorite slip.

Tearing you out of your mourning, you hear the rooster crow - you couldn’t help but laugh. You beat that bastard this morning.

You pad over to the mirror and you see the stupidest little grin on your face. That is the face of a girl who finally got a bit of action, you felt like a million bucks but also incredibly embarrassed by the whole thing honestly. You had plenty of confidence, you knew you were good - but Gator? You knew this man had a roster. From the first week in town, you knew he had to be good. You could tell by the nasty glares you got from nearly every woman, and man actually, in Lehigh. 

Gator Tillman was good in bed.

If someone hadn’t had him, they wanted him.

Shame you still haven’t found out, the only ‘good in bed’ you have gotten from Gator is the fact that he never gets on you about hogging the bed, his body is a furnace so you always get most of the covers, and you get to put your feet all over him and he never complains yeah so you weren’t aware yet that he has a foot fetish so… thats why. 

You begin braiding your hair to get it out of your face when the door to the bathroom opens. Gator stumbles in squinting and shuffles in behind you. Without a word, he wraps his arms around your waist and lays his forehead onto your shoulder - his favorite way to hug you… but this time he tries something different. You feel him push his head into the crook of your neck and he begins leaving small delicate kisses on the side, making your stomach do somersaults.

Good, he doesn’t regret it either.

“Good morning, Gator bug. I swear I tried to be quiet…” you whisper out.

“It was that damn rooster… I’ll go out and kill em in a minute and you can make some fried chicken and taters tonight, huh? Sound good?” He mumbles into your neck.

“Ha ha… i’ve been telling you this for weeks, but now all of a sudden when it effects youuuuu NOW you care, huh!?” You raised your voice slightly, waking up your best friend a little more than he’d like.

“Shhhhhh, you’re being so fucking loud right now that its actually making me mad.”

“ME? Oh I could never make you mad, Gator bug!” You said dripping with sarcasm.

He rolled his eyes, far too tired to continue this conversation.

“Come back to bed.”

“I cant, Im fully awake now. Plus, I need to go out to the coop, and then start on breakfast - I have pilates in like two hours so I gotta get rollin” you ramble off.

He looks at you with mischief and disbelief at the same time.

“And… if I convinced you otherwise?” He began to slip his hands under your hoodie… his hoodie. Eyes locking on yours in the mirror.

“If you somehow convince me to go back to bed, you have to go ahead and forfeit my spot at the pilates studio and pay my cancellation fee of like $50, then you gotta go out and take care of my hens out there and collect the eggs, then you gotta call Teresa and tell her that I cannot do her root touch up and style and she will bitch at you for it, and THEN you’re good - but until you’ve done all that, I cannot promise you that I’m getting back in bed.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah…” You giggle at his disappointment.

He stayed over like 3 or 4 nights a week depending on his shifts, but man, something feels different after last night.

He pulled his hands out of the hoodie and turned, making his way out of the bathroom. 

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“Gotta go take care of the damn hens! Then we gotta eat breakfast and then I will drive you to pilates.” He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You could’ve literally leaped out of your skin you were so happy, you adored when you got to be his passenger princess. He gave you his credit card and you spent an undisclosed amount of money on amazon for all of your necessities. When you decorated his truck with your purchases, he joked and called you the ultimate cockblocker - you wanted to throw up. He told you he could never have sex in the back of his truck now or bring any girls over, at least not in his truck because all of your cute little decorations.

You had a rhinestoned cylinder for tissues in the side door cupholder, a pair of pink aloe infused socks in his glove box, a larger clip on mirror (on top of the manufacturer mirror) on the passenger visor, a cheetah print scrunchie on his gear shift, a cherry coke air freshener hanging from his rearview mirror, the fuzzy Lola blanket he got your for your birthday sitting in the backseat, a squishmallow of rex from toy story (yeah, you thought it was an alligator at the store), and a total car pack in his middle consul. In the car pack, you had everything, genuinely. Makeup, 3 different claw clips, a face mask for sleep on longer trips, skincare masks, tampons, blue light glasses, an extra thong (which you’ve had to replace because they have gone missing from time to time), and lots and lots of different lip glosses. All tucked perfectly up against his Glock. Cute!

He made his way down the stairs and you spun yourself back to the mirror - suddenly extremely excited for the day. You heard the back door close and you looked out the window of your bathroom overlooking your back yard. You watched as Gator made his way into the chicken coop, scaring the daylight out of them. The hens started making their way out of the door to begin grazing the yard. He stepped out a few minutes later, hands filled with eggs. Then you spot it. 

Your legbar hen named Jenny hatched her first blue egg! 

You threw the window open and yelled down to Gator, “IS THAT BLUE!?”

“She gave you a blue one, honey!” He said grinning.

“HOLY SHIT!”, You were literally over the moon. This day cannot get better. Ohhhh but it could.

You quickly changed into your blue and white gingham print pilates set, and threw on a big grey crewneck overtop of it and raced downstairs.

He set the eggs in your cartons you had set in the kitchen, and smiled over his shoulder at you. You had been waiting for a blue egg for months.

“I told her she did a good job and to keep em coming. I think she listened to me cause I asked nicely and sweet talked her a bit.” He joked.

“Wow… this has been the most eventful past 12 hours of my entire life I think.” You laughed out. 

Gator starts pulling out the refrigerated eggs and some sausage links, basically telling you exact what he wants this morning. 

He already knew what was next: Coffee.

You turn on the burners and add some olive oil to the pan for the eggs. Once you have it started warming, you slip out into the living room.

Everything about this morning was perfect, it made you think of your Mamaw and Papaw. You decided to lean into that feeling.

You grab the remote to the TV and flip it over to Cartoon Network, ready to catch a few episodes before you leave for the morning. 

The second the trumpets start playing the Looney Tunes theme song, his head whips around to see. He stills instantly, you don’t notice at first - going back over to the oven to begin cooking. When the episode starts, you look over your shoulder and laugh.

“I used to love this episode! Jerry is asleep in the piano and Tom is trying to squish him with the little piano hammer thingys - remember?” You giggle and turn towards your personal barista.

He was absolutely still. Eyes glued to the TV. Face completely blank. He hadn’t even started on the coffee.

“Gator bug? You okay?” You ask, kinda laughing but mostly confused. You make your way over to him.

“What? Huh? Sorry- I just… I’ve never seen this” he whispered.

You titled your head, “You’ve never seen this episode? Its a classic! Wait until the end, its hilarious!”

You see the edges of his lips turn up, but only for a second and then they are back to his flat scowl.

“No, like I’ve never seen this at all-”

“Tom & Jerry?”

“Cartoons”

That right there stopped you in your tracks. Your heart laid on the floor of the kitchen. That is all it took for you to make up your mind. 

You moved passed him, eyes still goes to the TV.

You slipped into your office and make some calls. You paid the cancellation fee, and called Teresa telling her you woke up with a stomach bug and rebooked her, and made your way back out into the living room. 

You smiled as you noticed he had taken a couple steps closer to the TV, now fully in the living room instead of the kitchen. 

Every few minutes, you could hear him exhale a laugh out of his nose. And when you’d look up at him, he would always be smiling. Eyes shining.

You finish up cooking breakfast, you made the coffee (yours is not nearly as good as when he makes it for you), and you make your way into the living room.

You set the plates down on the coffee table and walk up to him, taking his hand and lead him to the couch. He still hasn’t said another word.

That is how you spent the whole rest of the day, sitting on the couch, cuddled up to Gator - teaching him the names of each Looney Tunes character.

He said he liked Taz the best.

a/n 💌: 🤧🤧🤧 HE IS HEALING!!!!!! ❤️‍🩹 i’m so obsessed with these two.

also!! i haven’t even started on the next chapter and im about to go to work lol so fingers crossed i have time to write today. 💖 thank you guys as always!

LIKING, COMMENTING, REBLOGING ALL APPRECIATED new writer here and still finding community 🥹💌

Tags: @lcversvoid @gxorgxa0000 @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou  @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @b1uecatt @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @pxlldrown @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @chelliquinn @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @localmika @fantasyreader130 @exooojongdaeee @louisbelongstome28 @strangegirl26sff @bearwithegg @babygirldoll @storiepeckham @jas-mines-things @leclercdream @torntaltos @pinkiepieshepardspie @djobug @eller41 @irllyluvcheezits @madaboutjoe @ilovecowboysyouknowthat @fapqueen

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace: Chapter five A man of many talents

18+ MDNI NSFW

warnings: nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), fingering

Gator Tillman was a man of many talents.

He grew up tinkering with tractors on the ranch, which has developed him into quite the auto mechanic in his adulthood. When you introduced him to Facebook Marketplace, he began buying small Ford pickups and fixing them up for ranch trucks. He is very good with his hands. He could repair almost anything in the house, though he hates plumbing and electrical - he gets frustrated with all the plumbing pieces and he has been shocked one too many times by exposed wire. You always joked with him saying that he probably has enough electricity running through his veins to power the whole town… you’ve never agreed with yourself more than you do now. 

This kiss was electrifying.

It scared you how easy it all felt. His lips against yours, rough hands squeezing your waist tight to hold you against him. Your whole body relaxed into him, as if your limbs were always meant to tangle together like a love letter written in cursive. The fire you felt inside of you, not burning you down - but melting you into one another. A part of you always knew.

You pull back ever so slightly, eyes filled with wonder. Maybe Gator was here to stay. Maybe thats why the house seemed to silence itself for him, the floorboards had waited for his weight in your little house. You were vulnerable in this moment, but you trusted him with your heart, dreams, sins - you. Wholeheartedly.

“Gator…” You whisper against his lips, unsure of how to move through the moment. You run your hands down his soft grey shirt, his chest lifting at your touch. 

“Shhhhh” he grabs your hands.

He pulled back, a sacrifice in his eyes - he had to do this right. You were it for him, and this only solidified that feeling inside of him. Uneven breaths shared between the both of you, he pressed his forehead to yours. He looked at you as if you were the answer to every question he’s ever asked, like every miracle he ever prayed for, and the gift that life bestowed upon him in the midst of all of the ugliness of his world - you were everything to him, and he knew it. He had to make sure you knew it too.

“Do you even know how long-” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, “How long i’ve wanted that? Wanted you… like that?” His voice dipping serious, smile gone.

His pupils blown out, lips slightly swollen - he’s never looked more gorgeous to you.

“Why didn’t you do it then?”

“You fuckin scare me” his eyes shined like he’s never seen the ugly parts of life, and he giggled - like a real and true giggle.

You couldn’t help but think about how things could be different, what if he never learned to be cruel? What if he grew up in a home where he saw love displayed. Not that you really had, but you at least had people who loved you - you weren’t sure if Gator ever had… but he does now.

“Nothing scares you, Gator bug” you whisper shaking your head while giving him a soft, shy smile.

“I like that you think that, even if its not the truth.” He steps back from you, dividing himself in two in the action - he knows he has to hold himself back. “Im sorry my mind is like scrambled right now. You just fully kissed me, right? Like that wasn’t a dream?”

“Want me to pinch ya? I will.” You laugh out, shocking yourself that there isn’t an awkward tension. That is the only thing that has held you from doing that a million times over to the Deputy. 

You flopped down onto your bed, staring up at him. You can see its taking everything inside of him to be good. 

“Yeah, so what are we doing… you gonna kick me out now?” He asked, cocky sarcasm in full swing. 

“Well… I have fresh sheets on my bed.”

He looked down and huffed out a laugh, “I guess that means I gotta go shower, huh?”

“If you want to spend the night, then yes.”, You prop yourself up on your elbows.

Deciding you want to take him further, you take one of your feet that hung off the end of the bed and trace it down the inside of his leg. “Unless, you’d like to sleep on the couch?”

“Fuck no.” he blurted out, a bit too fast. Embarrassingly fast. He blamed that on your foot rubbing his calf.

Proving his thoughts, he pulled off his shirt and threw it right into your wicker clothes hamper near your closet. You could help but look. Does he even know what he does to you? Does he know that he has permanently build a home in your mind, and you want him there forever? Does he think of forever? Are you apart of his forever?

He keeps eye contact with you, enough to make you want to look away but you physically couldn’t. Slowly, his hands started undoing his belt. He pulled it completely out of the belt loops and reached over, hanging it over the edge of your small pink plushy chair. He had sat it right next to his beat up white and green trucker hat.

With a pop, he undoes the button of his jeans and swiftly unzips them - hanging them loose at his hips. He watches you intently as he slides the denim down his legs. You had seen him in his underwear before, but it was never for you. This… this was for you. 

He stood up tall and straight, he let his chest puff out and tilted his head slightly - clearly enjoying your unrelenting stares. He was rock hard, and there was absolutely no hiding it. He genuinely thought that the sight of you right now could make him cum without even touching you, or you touching him.

Your little yellow slip dress with the small slit on the leg that had the smallest bow on the top of the slit, a gift for him. The fabric hugged you perfectly, bunched up a bit from being on the mattress. The silky pink robe pooled around you. You had your legs crossed tightly, he didn’t know you skipped the panties - you were all too aware of your bareness. Your hair drying into your lustful curls, the ones he wants to run his fingers through desperately. You watching him, him watching you… a moment paused just for the two of you - you swore the rest of the world wasn’t even real, this, you, you were the only thing that was real to him.

You watched him in those black Calvin Kleins. It was unfair, you knew he knew how good he looked under the warm glow of your room. You didn’t think, apparently doing that a lot tonight. You hoisted your body upright, reaching out to grab the waistband of his briefs - something that caught him off guard, another thing you’ve been doing a lot tonight. 

“Whoa sweet, you don’t gotta do all that… just cause we kissed doesn’t mean-”

“Gator, literally just shut up.” You meant it too, he knew it. He listened. 

You began pulling down the fabric, suddenly freeing all of him. Suddenly, he felt like the one who was inexperienced. 

You slip off the bed, allowing your ass to drag down the blanket exposing your bare hip to him - he realized right then that you never put on those panties he laid out for you. He almost came and died at the same time. You let your knees land softly against the plush rug, as you drag your hands down his thighs making his briefs hit his ankles. You may not have trusted anyone with all of you before, but you were not innocent by any means. Gator knew this, you’d teased him countless times… just daring him to do something. Begging him to do something.

He kept shaking his head, he had no idea how to process this. It was all so fast. Five minutes ago you kissed him and now he is naked in front of you, and you on your knees for him. The guilt flashes in him, he didn’t want to stop - but you had such an emotional night, you had kissed him, and now this? It was too much, you deserved to go slow and he had to make that decision for the both of you. Gator did something he has never done in his entire life and probably will never do again.

He cupped a hand under your chin and pulled you up to stand in front of him, he just had to give you one look and you knew that it was over.

“Why… why do you pull away from me? How can you tell me that you’ve been waiting for me to kiss you and then go and do that, huh? Gator, you are rock hard! You cannot tell me you don’t want this!” You were mad. You felt ridiculous, this has never happened to you before. And the fact that it was happening with Gator in the middle of such a vulnerable moment for you sent you into a spiral. You felt flushed. You wanted to rush under the covers and cry yourself to sleep.

Your eyes began filling with tears, he panicked not knowing what to do and also very aware of the fact that he is completely naked in this moment of panic.

“Hey nononononono no NO!” He finally raises his voice, “NO. That is NOT what I am trying to do. Im trying to be good for you, mama. I need to be good for you. I cant keep bein good when you’re giving me all this right now - I dont know if I know how to stop. Not in like a bad way, but I have never had to stop myself before and… and with you… wow - I want to do this right, baby…”

His confession leaves you speechless. He wipes your fresh tears off your face, hating that his lack of communication caused them in the first place. Especially with your eyes filled with tears and your bottom lip pouting out, he felt like a fucking idiot because a minute ago your eyes were filled with lust and your bottom lip was about to be around him.

“I gotta go slow for you. I gotta be good, baby. This means way too much to me. Doesn’t it mean a lot to you?” He looks at you, fingers brushing your curls behind your ear. “You understand that, honey? You’ve always been different, and I can’t - I can’t… I cannot mess this up. I will never fuckin forgive myself if I do.”

“You cant just fucking undress like that in front of me and not allow me to have a reaction!”

“Baby, do realize how unfair you’re bein? How many times have you walked out in nothin but your panties and holding a t-shirt over your tits in front of me huh? Look at you even now! Silky little thing like that-”

“YOU picked this out Gator!”

“Hell yeah I did, look at you… holy fuck - wow, yeah look at you… damn.” He got distracted so fast, it almost made you laugh. If you weren’t still a little mad, you’d probably let the laugh slip from your lips.

“Shower. Now.” You struggled with a poker face, you tried for years to learn it from Gator. He never let the truth slip to his face, but you were horrible at it. Seeing right through the attitude, he gave you a smile. You gave up and flashed him a grin, and then you fucking did it…

You looked down. At it.

“Fuck” you didn’t mean to let that slip, or let your eyes widened that big.

“Oh hell no” He twisted you around playfully and shoved you onto the bed and ran to the bathroom.

You could hear him laughing from inside of the bathroom.

Was this okay? Holy shit, whats going on. Lots. Lots it going on.

You lift yourself off the bed and make your way over to the vinyl to restart it, maybe take your mind off of him naked in the next door.

When you go to turn, you see that something fell out of his pocket when he had taken them off. Looking up at the bathroom, you could hear him in the shower. He had clumsily dropped something, or knocked something off the ledge - either way, you knew he was occupied and you were curious. You bent down and pulled it from under the fabric.

It was a wallet. Not his.

You flip it open and your stomach drops. It was Dylans.

That was all the confirmation you needed to confirm what you already thought. Gator had killed Dylan Marlow due to him assaulting you. Roy made him pay, made Gator make him pay. There was a feeling inside of you that you couldn’t name, or maybe you were too scared to name.

Before you hold it, you laughed. Like a real, diaphragm sent laugh. It was disgusting that you weren’t mad. You hated yourself for it, but you wanted to walk in that fucking bathroom, and rip open that curtain and see the killer for yourself. To let him know you know, and you wanted to thank him. So you did. Fuck it. Fuck slow.

You dropped the wallet onto the bed and crossed the room, the floors creaking - like a warning, or maybe encouragement… both, maybe? Your hand trembles against the door handle, but it felt like fire under your hand so you turned and pulled before you could talk yourself out of it. You let your robe slip off your shoulders and onto the bathroom floor.

“Honey? You good?” You didn’t even reply, you just pulled the curtain open.

Him. Dripping wet, the shower anointing him for you. You waist no time stepping in and dropping to your knees. He was stunned. Your slip dress absolutely drenched, sticking to your skin heavenly. He could see your nipples through the soft fabric, he couldn’t even think.

Like he told himself before, he didn’t have the strength to say no to you twice - especially twice in one night. 

“Oh fuck princess, are you sure?”

You stared up at him and batted your eyes, giving him a slow nod. He shifted his body to where he would cover your face from the spray of the shower. You grab ahold of his cock, and his legs nearly gave out right there. His hands flew to the shower walls as you leaned in. Your lips wet from the shower, you give the tip a soft kiss and let your tongue trace the slit before sliding your lips over just the tip and gave it a soft suck. Your best friend gasped above you, eyes fluttered closed.

You flatten out your tongue and place him on top of you, closing your lips around him and leaning in - taking him completely inside of your mouth. He swore he saw stars.

“Holy shit, baby. You are unreal - what the fuck is even happening right now… don’t you dare stop.”

You wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, you dreamed of this moment enough to where it burned into the backs of your eyelids. 

You bobbed your head taking him in and out of you, cheeks hollowing against him. He tasted so good, you could help it when a soft moan left your mouth. The sound sent vibrations against him, through him, he almost lost it. His head flew back, nearly waterboarding himself in the process. Again, what a fucking incredible way to go. This is everything he could’ve ever wanted and more.

You pulled your mouth off of him and grabbed it, swinging your head to the side. You began to leave sloppy open kisses all over his length, teasing the tip with your manicured nail. You could tell he was almost there.

“Oh god honey… what - where.. I’m gonna-”

You throw your mouth back onto him and the force shocked him, sending one of his hand into your hair unintentionally shoving himself further into your throat. You moaned against him from the reaction.

That moan undid him into you. The load groans leaving his mouth nearly had you coming undone without even a touch. He released it all inside of your mouth, and you couldn’t help but notice his taste. Fuck, he was sweet. The man who chugs whiskey and only takes his coffee black, tasted… sweet. Delicious. You swallowed, and then lapped your tongue over his throbbing cock to clean him off despite literally being in the shower. 

“Holy fuck, angel. You’re insane. You’re perfect. Where did you lear- nope I don’t want to know fuck no I don’t. Holy shit that was insane-” he rambled off, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

He helped you up off of your knees, which you were sure were going to be bruised from the shower tiles tomorrow. His hand rested on your neck and he pulled your lips to him.

This kiss felt just as electrifying, but it almost had a firmness to it - like you both were fully aware of what has just happened and that there is absolutely no pretending like it hadn’t. His hands slid down your slip dress that was absolutely soaking wet and began pealing the fabric up off of your skin, this was so intimate - so intentional, every glance, every touch. Your skin filled with goose bumps, allowing him to have you in this moment.

He pulled the dress over your head and let it drop to the shower floor, and you were bare before him. He didn’t even look down, he was locked on your eyes.

“You can look you know…”

“You sure? We are not goin further than this - I really do want to take my time with you…”

“Gator baby, I’m a virgin, not a saint.” He laughed at that, because wow - did he just find that out first hand. He had no doubt in his mind that that was the best blowjob he’s ever received.

He slowly nods and looks down, and he didn’t hide any of his expressions. He wanted you to know just how perfect you were.

Being careful not to touch, his hands hovered over the sides of your breast. Eyes wandering all over you.

“God… you’re perfect. Look at you. Never seen anything more beautiful than you right now, baby.” He whispered out.

You grab his hands in yours and bring them to your tits.

“Don’t be afraid to touch me. You are the only man I want to touch me. Ever.” This was enough to make him finish again, he never softened - he really could’ve right there when you told him that you only wanted his touch. 

His thumbs ghosted over your nipples, before rolling them and squeezing them in his hands. He looked at you, and you nodded to him. He leaned down and captured one of your nipples in his mouth and began to suck. It was your turn now to roll your head back, and you released a soft sigh at the contact.

“Gator baby, let me? Take me?” You whined out, softly begging to him.

He looked wrecked. His pupils were blown, lips attached to you, cheeks hallowed in on your tit, other hand fondling your other. He shook his head no, but let out a groan, like it pained him to do.

You grabbed his hand and brought it down to your soaking wet core, maybe that would change his mind. He gasped, releasing your nipple.

“Oh God babygirl… I- fuck baby…” Face twisting like a tornado, “Baby, I want you. Don’t think I don’t, but Ive been up nearly  24 hours - it would be your first time, I… I gotta give you better than that honey.” He couldn’t help but move his fingers against your clit as he said it. Both his and your body absolutely begging for it.

“Then make me come.”

“Shit.” His eyed black out right then and there. His thumb taking over your clit, he slid one finger inside of you - wanting to die right there at how wet you were for him. And for how he wasn’t going to have that wetness dripping around his hard cock. And how he was to blame for it.

One of your hands flew behind his head, sliding your fingers into his hair while the other grasped on to his shoulder for dear life. It’s been a while, and Gators hands are massive.

You always knew he was good, that he’d be good. But wow, he is good with these hands.

“Babygirl you’re so fucking tight… what the fuck, you can barely take one finger sweetheart.” He panted out, full of restraint. 

“Feels so fucking good baby…”

His eyes snapped up to yours, you’d never called him that. Gator baby, yes - but… just baby? He didn’t know if you knew it yet, but he was yours. Forever after that. He didn’t need another breath, he just needed you to keep moaning that to him.

His finger continued working itself into you, and soon enough he added a second.

He kept pumping into you, fingers curling into your g spot as his thumb circled your clit. You were so close, you thought you genuinely might pass out - you had never been touched like this, this good.

“Baby! I’m so fucking close, Gator” you whined.

Shit. He thought you moaning baby was good. Gator? Fuck him.

“Fucking come for me baby, whose making you come huh?” He pants out, not even realizing that he is close too. Too focused on you.

“Holy shit! Fuck Gator, you, gator you baby you.” You let go on his fingers. Tightening your grip on his shoulder and neck.

Your legs shook while you went through your climax, and then you felt it - heat. You look down and see that Gator had shot his cum all over your stomach and it slid down to your pussy and dripped onto the shower floor. 

“Oh my god… Gator?”

“Fuck baby… what the fuck are you doin to me?” He huffed out, dropping his head to your shoulder.

The shower was getting cold. You were standing there with your best friend, naked, dripping in your finishes. 

Gator Tillman, a man of many talents. Again, very good with his hands.

What the fuck just happened.

Tags: @lcversvoid @gxorgxa0000 @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou  @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @b1uecatt @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @pxlldrown @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @chelliquinn @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @localmika @fantasyreader130 @exooojongdaeee @louisbelongstome28 @strangegirl26sff @bearwithegg @babygirldoll @storiepeckham @jas-mines-things @leclercdream @torntaltos @pinkiepieshepardspie @djobug @eller41 @irllyluvcheezits @madaboutjoe

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace: Chapter 4

Basophobia

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Bad bad Tillmans, alcohol, blood, Roy Tillman, talks of violence/death/killings - let me know if i missed anything!

wc: 4.8k

You see familiar blue lights dancing across the concrete blocked bar wall, someone called the cops. The crowd had thinned, most people didn’t want to stick around out of fear that they might be picked up for charges that they deserve one way or another. Gator never let you out of his sight, and that alone could make you sick to your stomach.

When he got intense like this, his mind transported somewhere else - somewhere dark. He wouldn’t talk. He would shut down, and you were to do as you were told. It made you feel adolescent, it made you feel like you were incapable of earning his trust. Like you were a flight risk, or like you’d vanish completely. You always assumed it had something to do with his mom, who was a banned topic between you and him. You weren’t too keen about speaking on your own mother, so you never pushed him.

You were told to sit. At this point, its nearing 1am and you are absolutely freezing - the late spring North Dakotan night was unrelenting. Still a bit buzzed and also avoiding the current situation, you thought about three things.

How a shot would warm you up. God, you really needed a shot.

A blanket. You had a hello kitty blanket in your car. Gators truck was closer though, and he had the fuzzy one that you loved.

Him. You knew his blood was boiling with how angry he was at Dylan, you… even himself. Maybe that boiling blood was warming his skin - maybe if you asked nicely, he’d share his heat with you?

The answer was no. When you got up from your chair and started making your way towards him, he gave you one look - suddenly, you were running back to your seat. A freezing cold metal seat that seeped into your jeans.

You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, but you knew the bar had closed and all that was left was the deputies, Gator, and bloodied Dylan Marlow. You couldn’t even check your phone. You stupidly left it in your purse - the purse that was now flung over Gator’s shoulder looking impossibly tiny against his huge bicep and shoulder.

It wasn’t until you heard a low rumble and the sound of crunching gravel that you left your sleepy daze.

Sheriff Roy Tillman.

You knew that it was serious - but you were fine and there were four deputies here including Gator… why was the Sheriff here? Especially this time of night? You didn’t understand why things were taking so long or why no-one had even come to get your statement. Now that you thought of it, why wasn’t Dylan in cuffs or sitting behind bars already?

The Sheriff made his way over to Gator, giving you a once over as he passed you. 

“You alright, darlin?” He muttered.

“Yes, Sheriff - thanks to Gator.” You knew Roy was hard on him, and so you took every moment you could to praise your best friend to his dad.

He didn’t seem fazed by your compliment on his son, as he met Gator eye to eye - he looked down at your purse on his arm. 

“Now don’t be all gentleman like now, son. You let the girl walk into trouble and then want to act like you have her back by holding her little purse?”, he leans in close, “If you cant protect her, I will find someone who can - and I will make you watch as a real man claims her.”

You couldn’t hear what was being said, but you could see Gator tense up and then glide his eyes to meet yours. Your breath caught in your chest. 

The Sheriff leaves his sons side and begins to walk up to Dylan - who is covered in his blood from the broken nose.

“You’re lucky my son didn’t shoot you on the spot… had every right to in my opinion. The only reason he didn’t is because of your pending debt to me. You are going to wish that he would’ve put a bullet in you, because you’ve owed me for almost a year now and interest accrued. Because you decided to hurt that poor girl, touching something that belongs to my son - today, your debt is due. Payment due in full.” He spoke evenly, methodical, calculated.

You tried to ignore the pit in your stomach of the Sheriff claiming you belong to Gator. You’ve seen his wife, Karen. Gator wouldn’t lay a hand on you, but you knew what he was raised to do. Even a millisecond of thinking about your best friend in that manner made your skin crawl.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear. You have two options. You could either, let Gator here take care of you right here and now… or -”, he leans in, “I take you back to the ranch and let you attempt to settle your debt. Choose carefully.”

Before you can hear anymore, you are being pulled forcefully up from the chair. Gator practically drags you to his truck, no questions asked - he puts you in the passenger seat and reaches into the back, grabbing ahold of your blanket. He drapes it over your shivering body, and then leans over you placing the keys in the ignition. The truck roars to life, a violent comparison to the quiet that sat outside of the cab.

He flips on the heat on full blast and turns on the radio, cranking it loud. You don’t like this at all. You don’t want him to leave. You heard the options Roy gave. You start trying to grab ahold of his arms and he slips out of your grasp.

“Gator, no- Gate, wha-what are you going to do?” He pulls completely away from you, hand grasping the door. “Gator baby, please. Please, I messed up - this is my fault, I should’ve listened to you, why didn’t I just fucking listen to you when you told me to stay away fr-”

He grabbed your face, sternly,“Don’t look, don’t move. I will be back in a minute.” And with that, he was gone.

There were no words for how you felt. You knew Dylan was bad news, and yet, you dove in anyway - recklessly, assuming that you’d be safe in the end. And maybe you will be… but at what cost? 

You think about how stubborn you’ve always been. Your mind flicks back to your daddy when he warned you on that swing, the day you broke your arm. Then to the day you had to learn to live without him. Then to the day you decided you wanted out of North Carolina, enough to leave it all behind and begin again in a tiny boring as shit town. 

Stubborn, always stubborn. 

You think of him… and then back to your daddy. Your daddy warned you to listen because he didn’t want to see you hurt - because he loved you. Gator had warned you to listen to him because he also didn’t want to see you hurt - and now he might kill a man for you.

You don’t hear anything. Moments later, Gator comes around the corner like a roaring storm. He jumps into the drivers seat. Without another word, he peels out of the parking lot. As if his presence covered you in peace, you began drifting off to sleep - trying to ignore the fresh smell of oil in the cab.

You don’t remember the ride home, or him carrying you inside.

Unfortunately, you do remember that you flinched when he tried to help you out of your clothes to get you in some pajamas. He felt helpless. He knew you’d gag in the morning because you would be wearing your ‘outside clothes’ in your bed, but he wouldn’t attempt helping you change again. He’d rather drop dead than you flinch at his touch.

He didn’t know why he let you out of his sight. Was he that scared of intimacy with you that he was willing to let you stumble into the dark, alone? The thought had him sick to his stomach, violently shaking his head - praying there would be a way to turn back time. 

He stared at you laying there in the bed, curled into a ball and unwilling to make eye contact with him. All of his nightmares manifested as he let his mind drift back to the dark corner of the bar parking lot. The sound of you yelling his name that had drifted into the bar in passing, as warm bodies entered the cool air. Pure luck, or maybe God was real.

“Can I run you a bath? Want me to get you some of your sleepy tea?… well, maybe not. You’ve had a lot to drink tonight.” He grasped at straws, helpless. He knelt down beside your bed, knees resting in the plush rug that took you days to pick out - asking for his help, but they all looked the same to him.

“Gator baby… can you make me a coffee?” Eyes slowly looking over to him, weary of his current tolerance level for you.

He melted right there. He would move a mountain for you. He would build you a home. He would give you a child. He would practice patience. He would live, kill, and die for you. Yes, he will make you a coffee.

“Absolutely, consider it done.” He straightened up immediately, with a soft smile - he couldn’t fix what happened before at the bar, but he was able to control what the rest of the night looked like and he would rise to the occasion. Determined to untwist all the dark spots in your mind, one simple gesture at a time.

He got up from the floor and touched the pillow where your head laid, worried to touch you. He noticed that you were curled into the side of the bed he typically occupies when he stays the night. You had subconsciously followed his scent across the mattress, everything about him settled your heartbeat. 

You used to think love was what made your heart race; you weren’t so sure anymore - maybe its what brings your heart peace.

“Want to keep me company down there?” He questioned, hoping you’d say yes. He didn’t know how to tell you that it was less for you, and more for him. He needed you with him.

You smile, the first smile since the evening unfolded. Sitting up, you put your hands out in a silent request for him to pull you up out of the bed and get you on your feet. Before you know it, he bends down and scoops you up in his arms. Your legs fly around his waist, arms tight around the back of his neck. 

“Gator bug, you better put me down right now or I’m gonna kick you in the balls.” 

He knew you weren’t joking, but he was still willing to call your bluff. “Whats wrong, you calling me weak or something? Are my arms not big enough for you, honey?” He laughs, gripping you tighter.

He remembered the first time he picked you up like the back of his hand.

You had climbed up the tree that cascaded over your home, you had claimed that you saw a cat climb up. Unfortunately, you had overestimated your ability to get down as easily as you climbed up. Pulling out your phone from your back pocket, you felt ridiculous. Gator laughed, like a full on belly clenching laugh. After regaining his breath, he told you that he’d be there in a few minutes and not to call the fire department - he claimed if you did, your friendship was over.

Not even three minutes later, he was pulling in. He parked his truck under the tree, hopped out of the cab and into the bed. When he saw you, he had to take a minute - every second he waited filled your body with anger and anxiety out of being overly ready to get onto the solid ground. Soon enough, he crawled onto the top of the cab and pulled himself onto a branch. He reached for your hand, which you willingly took. You instantly stopped shaking, trusting him.

“Alright, I got ya -”, he gently started swinging on leg back onto the roof of the truck, “Just fall into me.”

You looked at him like you had seen a ghost. You weren’t afraid of heights, but you were afraid of falling.

Noticing your stillness, he reached to you and wrapped an arm under yours and hooked it behind your back. He forced you down onto him with the motion, as his other foot lands onto the roof of the truck. 

You were holding onto him for dear life. He was convinced that if you told him you didn’t want to move again, that he would permanently hold you right there. Your face hidden in his neck, legs around his waist, arms squeezing him so tight that he thought he might suffocated - “what an incredible way to go”, he thought as he held you. 

Maybe you didn’t need the solid ground, maybe you just needed him.

Maybe even now, thats what you needed; what you both needed - just each other. 

“Have I ever dropped you, pretty girl? No. Don’t insult my strength like that now…” pretending to be wounded. He pulled back enough to look into your glittering eyes, a little duller than they normally are.

You huffed and rested your head against his shoulder. He’s right, he’s never even pretended to drop you - he wouldn’t dare try and scare you when he knew what he knew.

When you had told him about falling off the swing as a child, he didn’t see the deeper implications behind it until much later. Kids fell off swings all the time. It wasn’t until after he had begun studying why you were the way you were, that he understood completely. 

You were afraid of variables: your own ability to maintain balance, your grip strength, your trust in the object holding you, and the ultimate surface you’d fall onto. It went deeper than just a physical fall. You were afraid to trust, afraid to believe you were safe - your dad was there, and then he wasn’t, and you were left with the woman who was meant to love you most in the world. She left you at the doorstep of your grandparents house, for what was meant to be a playdate - she never came back for you, and you were forced to watch her choose everything but you. Your grandparents did the best they could, to honor your father, their son. But even then, they passed on and all that was left for you was shaking ground. Shaking feet. Shaking breath. You never could get used to the idea that something was stable and could hold your weight.

Gator knew that, so he vowed to himself in silence that he would be the stability you never knew.

He made his way down the staircase, carrying you as if you were weightless. Gator crossed the living room floor, entering the kitchen and placing you on the countertop. His fingertips ran down the sides of your thighs, an attempt to steady you but also to remind himself that you are here, safe, in the control of his hands. 

You notice that the kitchen is clean. Not how you left it.

“Gator bug?” Eyes looking at the clean coffee mugs sitting on your drying rack, the ceramic catching the reflection of the moon and bouncing off of it and onto his hand as he reaches for them. No trace of your sticky french toast morning, no ghost of powdered sugar, even the bacon grease was stored away.

“I came over after my shift. I wanted my second plate…” his eyes shined, boyish grin with honesty, “Decided that you would’ve cleaned if you had time, and clearly you didn’t - so I did it.” 

As if this was no big deal. As if he doesn’t sleep in your bed, place his boots next to your shoes, have his shampoo next to yours, and the blue toothbrush sitting in the holder next to your pink one from the 2 pack from the dollar tree. As if he didn’t possibly kill a man tonight for touching you. As if this was more than a friendship, as if it was duty, as if it was ceremonial - as if it was forever tied into a friendship.

Your breath caught, it was simple. He was apart of the mess from the morning - but it was your home. But was it only yours?

You were speechless, and you didn’t want to come across too intimate - but this was intimate to you.

While your mind was racing, he finished with your coffee. He crossed the kitchen floor and settled his body in between your knees and handed you the mug, before lifting his own to his lips. 

“You’re my best friend… you know that right?” You whisper, unable to hold the feelings anymore. His eyes locked on yours and you see him swallow at the words. His body stilled, obviously he knew this but there was something so much deeper in your words. As if those words masked the real ones that were carefully hidden on the tip of your tongue. 

He sat his coffee onto the counter, next to your hip. Filled with fear, he leaned forward anyways. His lips met your forehead, soft and gentle - just for you, and only you. They lingered on your skin, hot. Dragging them down to your temple and then impossibly slow, he moved over your cheek bone. His touch on you was light, but his breath was heavy. You knew the next stop on your face was where you wanted him most, where he wanted most. And with that, he pulled back.

Like a switch, he blinked a couple times and stepped out from between your legs. He did it again, he pulled away when it got too real.

“Why don’t you hop in the shower? Get cleaned up and… you need the sleep” He nodded, trying to convince himself rather than you that this was the right decision. He was reeling back into himself. You knew this reaction from him. If he would’ve asked you what the right decision would be in your eyes, you wouldn’t be talking anymore.

You knew that, at least for right now, he was gone from the moment and there was no reason to try and pull him back in - it never worked. Stubborn man.

Slipping yourself off the counter, you grab your coffee that is starting to cool - unlike you. The heat you felt was radiating off of you, intensely growing in the pit of your abdomen. You give him a glance and slip away through the living room and up the stairs.

He was stone cold.

If he didn’t ground himself to your kitchen floor, he would be hot on your heels tearing off those jeans he swore he will throw in the trash in the morning. But thats not who he is to you, he swore he couldn’t be. You’re good, and he is not. That is that. A man who lacks self control meets the one, and she cant be touched. Not by him.

You shut the door to the bathroom, making the deliberate decision to leave the door unlocked. The hiss of the water starting and the spray hitting the tiled shower floor masked the sound of your uneven breaths. You pull the black tank off of your skin, it prickled, your skin sensitive out of craving the touch you are deprived of. There is a slight hesitation in your hands, they begin to shake ever so slightly as your reached for the button of your jeans. You feel sick to your stomach, thinking about how uninvited hands were slipping under the waistband just a few hours ago - the sick becoming overwhelming. You take a couple steps towards the toilet, falling to your knees as you begin coughing up the venomous thoughts. You don’t even hear the door open, you just feel the hands.

Gator scoops up your curls with one hand, holding them out of your face. The other hand drawing slow circles on the back of your neck, careful about where his hand explores knowing full and well that you are sitting there with just your bra covering your chest.

“You think you’re done?” He says in a whisper.

You nod, wiping your mouth and trying to catch the tears. Maybe you can disguise the sick feelings as a reaction to the strong alcohol instead of the true reason. But why try to hide it, he already knows. He flushes the toilet as you straighten your back.

“Cmon… I got you.” He did.

You feel his arms on either side of you, hoisting you back up to your feet. Him behind you, you feel his breath on your exposed back.

“Do - do you want me to do it?” You nod and look up at the ceiling, trying to hold back the tears. You feel his hands hover over your stomach.

“Okay honey… I'm gonna to try not to touch your body, okay? Just gonna help you out of the jeans and then I'm gone if you want me gone.” Still unable to speak without the tears welling up, you nod. You trust him.

His fingers gently, slowly, find their way to the button on your jeans. Quickly popping it open, he pulls back.

“Want me to keep going? Zipper too?”

“Yes, please.” You whisper. Your hands instinctively sit crossed on the base of your neck, palms against your chest attempting to steady yourself.

He unzips your zipper and he pauses again, silently asking you if you want him to continue. Again, you nod. He pulls down your jeans slowly, careful not to spike your anxiety as the rough fabric glides down your skin. He makes sure not to even look at you, eyes closed. He had been around the block a time or two, or a lot more than that, he could take off a girls pants with his eyes closed - which sounded like a brag, but he proved it to himself here. You deserved to be respected, especially by him, especially tonight. He reaches for your hand, and you step out of the fabric. Leaving you in your bra and underwear.

“I will be outside, okay? If you need anything-”

“Thank you.” You squeeze his hand, and turn to look at him. He lets his chin dip down and meets your eyes - not allowing them to wander anywhere else. 

“Of course, princess. I will be right out here, okay?” He lifts your hand, and twist it to his mouth to kiss your palm. His head turns first, unwilling to trust his own body to not look down, then he heads out the door. Carefully shutting it behind him, and noticing that you don't bother locking it for a second time - he made note of the trust you had for him. He wasn’t willing to ruin that.

He heard the shower curtain open - then close. 

Standing there on the other side of the door felt impossibly too close, and too far at the same time. He had to distract himself, something new for him. Gator being Gator, he never shied away from being openly inappropriate to you, about you - you knew you made restraint incredibly hard for him. You also knew you tend to make something else pretty hard. Which made it even more difficult to pry himself away from the door, you left it unlocked for a reason. With anyone else, he would be in there. He would be the predator he was raised to be. But never to you. He couldn’t be. You have completely, utterly, disastrously changed him. Worst part is, he loved you it.

No more toxic flings. He never made late night booty calls. Sure he’d flirt, sure he’d still sleep around - but it was casual, it wasn’t like before you. Suddenly, he thought about what you were doing, thinking, feeling… you entrapped his mind at all times. His heart seemed to beat in rhythm to the sound of your laugh, your hips swaying, the way you’d yell at him for something he did on purpose - just to get this exact reaction that he desperately craved. 

Roy saw it too. He saw a change in his son the exact day you came to town. He saw how you were good to him, didn’t give Gator a reason to lay a hand on you. You were a good little untouched christian girl, and he was ready for Gator to be a man and claim you. Gator was soft in his eyes, but when you came into his sons life - he seemed to grow 10 sizes bigger. He was still soft, but he started being responsible, careful, and pretty damn good at his duties as deputy sheriff and for the quiet dirty work Roy had for him. What more could he ask for his son? It was like he slipped into his roles with ease knowing that everything he did, he was doing it with the purpose of keeping you safe. Since day fucking one. 

He could smell your vanilla soap. Deciding the best thing for right now would be distance, he made his way down the stairs. He could still hear you humming. Damn this old house and its lack of noise cancelling. Turning towards your office, he swung open the doors and made his way to the corner. You had a vinyl record player there and then a smaller, cheaper, cuter pink one in your bedroom. He grabbed the record you’ve been playing on repeat lately, assuming it was what you were humming. With vinyl in hand, he made his way back upstairs. 

Entering your bedroom, he walked over and turned on your nightstand lamp. The warm glow fell throughout the room like a sunset. You had a strict ‘no big lights’ rule after a certain time, it took him months to figure out what you meant by that. Everything you do, say, want… its funny to him - but whats funnier is his willingness to learn and obey.

Over by your tall dresser in the corner, he approaches the record player. He placed it on the table, turned it on, and lifted the needle - placing it gently, like you taught him. Music began pouring out from the cheap speaker system.

“Whispered something in your ear…

It was a perverted thing to say

But I said it anyway

Made you smile and look away…

Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

As long as you’re with me you’ll be just fine

Nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

Nothing’s gonna take take you from my side”

The ‘Cigarettes After Sex’ EP spun, and you could heard the music sliding under the door to the bathroom - a beautiful symphony with the stream of water, mixing with the thumping of your heart, which hadn’t settled down since he touched you moments ago.

You shut off the shower and slide open the curtain to grab your towel, and thats when you see it. At one point or another, Gator had come in and gathered your dirty laundry and placed a clean nightgown, pair of panties, and a robe sitting on the countertop beside the sink. Your heart swelled in your chest, your breath caught in your throat, and your eyes filled with tears. He was so good. So, so good to you.

After drying off, you slip the gown over your head and let it fall down your body where it sat mid thigh. You wrapped the robe around you, you tie it around your waist loosely. You don’t wear underwear to bed, but it was a kind gesture of him regardless. You toss them to the side, out of eye sight because you don’t need him aware of that information yet. 

You swing open the door and the sight knocks the breath out of you. Gator Tillman changing your bedsheets. He stops mid motion and looks at you, as if seeing an angel.

“I knew you’d want the sheets changed… your outside clothes-” he stopped speaking when he realized that you were in tears. “Did I do them wrong? What happened? Was it the clothes, was that too m-”

Without a thought, you found yourself crossing the room straight to him.

You brought your hands to his face and met his eyes.

Then, surprising you both…

You kissed him.

___

a/n 💌 THEY KISS THEY KISS OMG hehehehe

you guys blow me away every time and it’s genuinely causing me to write faster. please continue to let me know your thoughts because it fuels me!!

also!! i AM open to writing more gator OR other joe/joe characters so please inbox requests if you have them - might take me a minute since im working on this in most of my free time lol 💖 i hope you love our girl and gator bug as much as i do!

Tags: @lcversvoid @gxorgxa0000 @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou  @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @b1uecatt @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @pxlldrown @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @chelliquinn @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @localmika @fantasyreader130 @exooojongdaeee @louisbelongstome28 @strangegirl26sff @bearwithegg @babygirldoll @storiepeckham @jas-mines-things @leclercdream @torntaltos @pinkiepieshepardspie @djobug @eller41 @irllyluvcheezits @madaboutjoe

as always, if you’d like to be added or removed from tags, please let me know 💌

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace Chapter 3: Woof.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: Mentions of father being terminally ill, mentions of death, abandonment, heavy drinking, mentions of female masturbation, hint of mentioning male masturbation, sexual assault on reader, reader called slut, blood, injury, probably more - dark chapter.

wc: 4.8k

When your dad first received his diagnosis, his doctors suggested getting a medical dog. One that was trained to sense a threat and alert to their assigned owner, keeping them from danger. But it doesn’t matter how trained and skilled the dog is… if the owner doesn’t heed the warnings and listen to the instincts of the dog - the threat and danger can proceed, which ultimately will hurt the owner and leave the dog feeling useless. 

If only you would listen to your dog.

“Your ass looks so good in those jeans, I swear if those don’t get you some attention tonight then I don’t know what will.” Victoria sighed over FaceTime. “Wear that square neck black tank with them! The one you got while we were in Charleston, then you’ll have the whole package showing.”, she laughed, green eyes lighting up to her inner fashionista taking over.

It was true, that top was good. Maybe a little too good. Gator always side eyed you when you wore things a little too flattering like this - made his job harder, he’d say. Maybe made something else hard too, you both knew it but neither admitted it. 

You shook your head at your friend, the one you’ve had since 2nd grade - your ride or die. She came and visited you last summer while she was on summer break from teaching. When her and Gator met, they spent most of their time together arguing over who was your best friend. You didn’t interject, because if Victoria wasn’t arguing with him over their rankings - you knew she’d be chewing him out for something worse.

Every time you thought there might be something between you and Gator, she was the one you told. 

She knew about the almost kiss. She knew about the pillow talk as you’d play with each others fingers. She knew he’d climb into your bed like it was his own and hold you until you fell asleep. She knew that you told him about you being a virgin, saying you didn’t mind doing other stuff - but you were scared to give yourself completely to someone. She knew that after that, he wouldn’t let a guy that he didn’t approve of get within 10 feet from you. She knew about how you finally snuck behind his back and got a guy back to your place, just for Gator to storm in and rip him off of you while the guy had his head between your thighs on the kitchen table (that Gator built you). She knew that the guy left your house with a broken nose, and that he hasn’t dared to look at you since.

She knew it all. And she knew you deserved to either finally get railed by him, or someone else. In her eyes, it was time for him to piss or get off the pot.

You slip on the top that she suggested and of course it was perfect with the jeans. For your hair, you flip your head upside down and shuffle your fingers up by your roots giving your curls fresh volume. Nearly giving yourself whiplash, you swing your head back up and grab your phone. Deciding that you want to go easy on makeup, you throw on a bit of tinted moisturizer, blush, and mascara.

“If your guard dog doesn’t want to play fetch with you tonight, then I do!”, she says holding back her laugher at her own joke.

You glare down at the phone screen, “Be careful, he has a nasty bite…”

“I bet you’d LOVE to feel how nasty his bite could get HUH?!”, she squealed.

You shake your head realizing it was already 7:56pm, telling your friend that you’ll text her later. You told Gator you would meet him at 8, but when have you ever been on time? Seconds later, you are slipping out into the late April cool and make your way to your inevitable free drinks that were waiting on you.

The parking lot at Ralph’s is already packed, you find a spot over near the overflow parking. Dragging your cheetah print purse with the rhinestone cherry keychain over from the passenger seat, you search for your lip liner and gloss. 

Gator had gotten the keychain for you on his latest “work trip”. Yeah, the same “work trip” he came back from stumbling into your salon with a gash on his head, asking you to clean it for him in one of your “fancy head sinks” as he called them.  You were mid color job with neon blue staining your gloves, your clients mouth dropped to the floor. Safe to say, he paid for her entire appointment and you forced him to give you a 50% tip. You are never surprised by his appearance after these “trips”, but you are always worried.

Your breath catches as you hear your door rip open and before you can even react, you’ve got a hand around your throat and the other grabbing both of your wrists pining them to your thighs.

“And that’s why I have told you too many fucking times to lock your damn car doors. I swear woman, you never listen!”

He releases and you are met with those familiar hazel eyes. Gator looks at you, and you can see it - a hint of mischief mixed with aggravation. He loves playing rough, he loves that you trust him completely enough to give in. But he would love it even more if you fought back or actually listened to him and followed his safety instructions for you. In his eyes, you were like Bambi… innocent, naive, fragile - you never learned to fight. He had tried to teach you, but every time he gave in. You’d flash your pretty eyes at him and he’d be putty in your hands - told himself that if you couldn’t protect yourself, then he’d do it for you.

“Gator!” You never just called him Gator, that was reserved for when you were angry at him. “You cant just sneak up on me like that, you scared me half to death!”

He swallowed about a million words, mostly geared towards why the fuck you only called him Gator - as if that was an insult, instead of his name.

“I can do whatever the fuck I want. Let’s go, i’m thirsty” he says while rolling his eyes. 

You look at him like you just heard the dumbest joke in the world. This boy just insinuated that he was going to become rehydrated by ordering a whiskey. Got it. Dumbass. 

“Give me a damn minute, Gator Bug! I still gotta apply my lip combo and youuuu made me drop my liner somewhere in the floorboard.” playful annoyance rolling off your tongue.

He perked up a bit hearing his pet name leave your mouth especially in that little tone he loves so much, so he reached down and searched haphazardly to find your lip liner… whatever the fuck that was. 

After not finding it with his hand - he bent down. You hear him clear his throat when he sees your freshly pedicured toes peeking out of your red peep-toe heels. He bought you those for Christmas. He claimed it was because you had mentioned needing some red heels, but his eagerness to buy you some might have exposed his feelings about you in them.

He finds your lip liner, and like the Casanova he is, he slide his arm up between your legs to hand it up to you. Eyes dark, grin on.

You snatch it from him, not being affected in the slightest - at least that’s what you told yourself. Applying it the rearview mirror, and then your gloss. You grab the strap of your purse, swinging it onto your shoulder as he slips out from crowding you in the front seat. He offers you his hand, and you take it - carefully stepping down onto the pavement. Fingers intertwined, his big rough hand in stark comparison to your small smooth hand. Somehow, he just fit perfectly to you - you didn’t know, but he was thinking about the same thing at the same time.

He stared at you. Something he did quite often, enough that you didn’t question him about it anymore. 

Eyes trailing over your body, like if he was a drill sergeant and you were his pretty little soldier he needed to inspect. Yeah, he’d pay big bucks for that movie. When you turned momentarily to look at a passing car, he seized the opportunity to check out his favorite part of all of your outfits. Your ass sat perfectly in those jeans. He loved it. And, he absolutely hated it. Knowing damn well he isn’t the only person watching how luscious your thighs look, he wished he had wore his thigh holster. Sure he still had two guns on him right now, but they were concealed - and he wanted to wear one as a warning to anyone who dare look your way.

“Good Lord.” He couldn’t help but whimper.

“Can you even walk in those jeans? Fucking A, damn near second skin” he huffed, shaking his head, “Gator can’t have a damn night off. Nope, gotta play watch dog now cuz pretty girl wants attention, huh.”

You slightly cringe at his use of third person.

You dip into your sweet southern accent in reply, “Aww Gator baby, I know that’s just your crooked way of telling me I look like a million bucks.”

“I’ve seen a million bucks, several in fact. Cash. Laid out. Never been as flashy as yer bein’ right now.” He grumbled back, clearly not having it with you right now - trying not to fold at your flirting. You saved that pet name when you wanted something from him… and he always obliged. 

You looked up at him as he towered over you, making you feel like you already have a couple drinks in your system when you haven’t even stepped foot inside yet.

“Is that you saying that I look better… or worse… than several million dollars laid out?”, you’re pushing your luck with him.

He just stares at you, not willing to speak his mind in the slightest. The man takes one hand and slams your door, while the other stays wrapped in yours - not meeting your eye as he turns and pulls you towards the bar.

Now it was your turn to look at him. God, you wished you hadn’t. He had no business making jeans look that good. Cowboy boots, the brown ones - his good ones. Wearing that damn hat backwards too. Fuck, he even tucked his grey shirt in and wore the belt buckle you got for him. The one with the Alligator on it - it was a Crocodile… he didn’t correct you. 

You drop his hand as you approach the front. He noticed that. He’s already damn near steered half the towns eligible bachelors away from you, the last thing you need is to walk in hand and hand with the Deputy Sheriff - who seems to only ever protect and serve one person in this whole damn county. 

You. 

The music is already booming, and people already wasted - happy Friday, everyone! Gator holds the door open and guides you inside.

The atmosphere shifts. It always does. The second Gator enters, you can feel the eyes look at the both of you and snap away just as fast. It used to bother you, now it’s just convenient. His aura kept the bad eyes off you, you just wish they wouldn’t deter all the good ones too - or at least someone you could have a bit of fun with.

When you first started stepping into town on Gators arm, everyone knew that you were his. Now, did they know to what degree? No. But they knew enough to stay away. This made it unbearably hard when you tried to start dating or even to make a couple friends. Nothing good came from being involved with a Tillman, especially the one with nothing to lose. You were naive to that at first, and honestly you were a bit excited by the attention - or lack of, when you first got to town. A pretty girl, attached to the Deputy Sheriff - you were untouchable, gawked at, desired. No one could touch you, not without his permission. 

For the longest time, you sought his attention, but he withheld most of his affection for you while in public. You saw the way he looked at you when nobody was watching, when the doors closed, or when the lights turned low. He wanted you, you saw it - and you wanted him just as bad. Yet, nothing happened. It was like he wanted you to remain untouched. You didn’t know it yet, but that was exactly it. Gator had never seen something as precious as you, and for whatever reason, you kept him around… he couldn’t afford to break you. In his eyes, you’re priceless.

For over a year now, you questioned what could be wrong with you. How could he turn to stone the second things felt too real? You were never that girl who needed a man, so you didn’t mind not having a boyfriend or Gator not claiming you - you just wish he wasn’t so damn confusing with all his mixed signals and looking at you like he’d burn the world down if you asked.

You shake the thoughts out of your head, you have a plan for the night and you intend to stick to it. Hear what he found out about the smashed in truck and crazy ex, tell what you know about the current girlfriend and the boyfriends spending habits and most importantly, about the pregnancy. You planned to win, have drinks on him, he’d drive you home - you fall asleep in his arms… how the usual night out with Gator Tillman ended for you.

Unfortunately, tonight was not a usual night.

Reaching the bar, You slide up onto the stool and the atmosphere shifter sits in the one next to you. You’re greeted almost immediately. 

“Hi guys, welcome in! What can I get for ya tonight?” 

New Bartender. She’s pretty, blonde, nice eyes, smiling ear to ear - not at you, him. You could see your best friend perk up. Back straightened, shoulders squared, chest out, grin showin. You wanted to smack him for it.

“I’ll take a whiskey neat, please”

Please. Please? Oh, keep it in your pants Gator.

“And for your lady? -“

“Not my lady.” He smirks, quickly making a point. 

You whip your head to look at him. Obviously you weren’t his lady, you both knew that - but you didn’t like the way he had to slam the notion down. Eyes locked on one another, they never even glanced your way. He… he didn’t even glance your way.

He has never done that before. In all the times that someone has assumed you were a couple, he has never done that. In strangers eyes, you had been dating, engaged, married, and hell - one time you were looking in the baby aisle for another stylists baby shower - and you were congratulated! Sometimes he still calls you ‘mama’ because of it.

“I’ll take a jack and coke.”

That made him turn.

“Since when are you taking whiskey? You nearly get wasted off of lemonade.” He looked at you, trying to read what game you were playing in front of his new acquaintance.

“Since I decided I want to feel it.” That shut him up. When you felt your alcohol, you were too reckless. It didn’t even take that much to get you there either. 

By the look in your eyes, he knew you were mad. And if you were mad, he knew he was absolutely not going to be going home with the bartender tonight. Too bad he only flirted with her because he was mad about you dropping his hand.

The bartender, whose name you don’t care to remember… Katy? Kathy? Kate? Anyways, she went to make the drinks. This gave you and your best friend around 3 minutes of silence. He stared at you, you stared at your reflection in the mirror that was behind the bar. She returned, silent this time. Serving Gator first, with a smile, before cautiously sliding you yours.

You knew you were being rough on him. He hasn’t stopped looking at you, even when she smiled his way. His eyes, they sat straight on to you.

Slowly, you took a sip - your nose curled. Even with the coke, it was rancid to you.

Gator noticed, smirked and exhaled a laugh through his nose - tension officially broken.

After one more jack & coke, you couldn’t do it anymore. You switched over to jungle birds, even though it wasn’t your favorite - it was a hell of a lot sweeter and still got you drunk. 

You started into your planned out conversation, him going first - because you were sure you’d win the completion you’d been thinking about the entire day. He would get excited to tell you the next part, and in doing so, he’d throw back whatever drink he had in front of him. 

“-Then the ex fully started swinging on him! Ramos literally had to cuff her and put her in my cruiser while we took the new girlfriends statement.”

“Maya!” You shout, a bit drunk.

That had him laughing, “Yes, Maya. She was super standoffish with us, I’m assuming she’s one of those cop hatin liberal girls like you.” He teases, bumping his body into yours and then deciding to settle into the new distance between the two of you.

“I am not a cop hater! I just hate the bad ones… now, I haven’t met a good cop yet so-”, you insinuating that he is a bad one. Which I mean, that would be accurate to say and you knew it.

“I like youuuuu, but nobody else.” You squeal out to him while poking his nose. That makes his heart race a little, but he’s choosing to blame it on the whiskey.

“Oh really? And what do you like about me, honey?” He pushes for more.

“I like your eyes. And I like that you’re mean, but that you’re not to me. And you let me put my cold feet on you.” You giggle into your drink, keeping eye contact with him. You begin letting yourself feel the bass of the heavy music and allow the alcohol to run free in your veins.

You both were warm and inching closer which intensified everything. Gator started ordering shots. You watched as his jaw would clench when he’d swallow, eyes not able to leave his neck. Yeah, you were gone. The LED signs shining into his eyes, which were getting darker by the minute - he had you in a trance.

Half lidded, he looks at you with his jaw tense. The bass hitting just right, enough to sync your heartbeat to. He had completely lost his train of thought. Hard to stay on track when you looked like that, Gator was strong - but he was still just a man.

The door to the bar opened and let in a rush of air, wind brushing some of your curls back over your shoulder. Without even thinking, he reached up and traced the backs of his fingers across your neck and let them trail over your chest. You inhaled sharply at the intimacy.

Suddenly, you felt like you time travelled back to last night. 

Your soft sheets. Satin draping over your skin perfectly. Moonlite casting shadows over your bare legs. You had closed the book. The room felt hot. You felt hot. Untouched for so long - too long. You had been sitting there reading complete filth that made you squeeze your legs closed, longing, aching, needing. You slide your hand down, almost regretting it as you are doing it. Eyes locked closed. Only one man on your mind.

*ding*

You look over, and low and behold - him.

Opening the thread, you see that he is still typing. He is spam texting you at 2am. If only he knew. But, oh, if only you knew.

🐊 - im supposed to be asleep

🐊 - i sleep so much better over there w u, like worlds better. if i didn’t need 2 be up soon, id come over and u wouldn’t even know. i may be a bit drunk rn but i know im still quieter than u

🐊 - oh my god i just saw the time. i really actually need to be asleep. don’t text me back bc then i will end up staying up to talk and then ill miss work and then you’ll have to convince roy it was all your fault which it would be btw

🐊 - go 2 sleep if ur awake, u need to be sleeping. if u are asleep, sweet dreams pretty girl. hope i didn’t wake u.

Snapping you out of the heat you were feeling, trailing down your body and settling between your legs, you heard a couple of wasted girls singing ‘girls just wanna have fun’. 

You didn’t realize that you closed your eyes. You didn’t realize that Gator was sharing your breath. You didn’t realize he was staring right at you. You didn’t realize that his hand was trailing up your thigh. God, you needed some air. 

Heels making a clanking noise down onto the floor, you balanced yourself with Gators shoulder. He seemed to have also snapped out of it when you did, quickly turning towards the bar and burning through his next drink with his eyes. He was tense, didn’t look at you.

Before you could take a step, he checked in, “You good?”, throwing his husky voice over his shoulder to you.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna get some air and then probably go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You felt dizzy. Hot. And nothing could suffice - well one thing could, but you wouldn’t dare. You feel his eyes on you the entire way out the door. Sit. Stay. Good doggy.

The air hits you harder than expected. April night chill settles onto your skin, but you invite it. After the liquor, Gator, and your recent experience with time traveling back to last night - you’d welcome the coolness, you wouldn’t mind if it started snowing. 

The side patio of the bar was crowded mostly with smokers, but they had a good speaker system that made you feel like you were still inside. There were people playing corn hole, and others about 2 seconds away from ripping off each others clothes - mixed crowd, mixed vibe. The moon was shining down, and they had lights strung up - if it didn’t reek of cigarettes, you might actually really enjoy being out here. It wasn’t overly crowded in the patio space, but enough that you were having to maneuver yourself well in order to make it over near the parking lot where you could finally breath. 

You wormed your way through, mumbling out a string of ‘excuse me, sorry’s, but no one seemed to mind. Finally seeing a clearing, you go to walk forward to embrace the fresh air. 

Before you can, something wraps around your wrist, and before you know it - you’re tugged back into the crowd. Your head snaps to see who is grabbing you but you can barely see. Between the fuzziness from the drinks and the swaying of bodies… all you can see is that it is not Gator. You knew you were drunk, but you knew the feelings of his hands on your body - you damn near memorized it.

This is not his hand. This is not how he touches you. Even if he was mad, he wouldn’t grip you like this. This is not him.

You try to wiggle out of the grasp, but it only tightens. You look around at those you are running into, and its like you aren’t even there - no one sees, no one cares, no one helps. You cant see above the crowd, but while you’re being pulled, you can see the door open. 

Without hesitation, you yell for him.

“Gator!”

Its all you can manage before the heavy door closes again. You feel one strong tug and then a shove, pushing you up against the outside wall of the bar. You blink, trying to refocus your eyesight after all of the motion. The alcohol inside of you causing everything to turn sideways. 

You notice him. You recognize him. You know him.

“Dylan, what the fuck are you doing?!”, you try pushing off the wall and he just shoves you right back.

“You know exactly what I’m doing! You talked all this game with me over text couple months back, being a fucking tease and then when I finally got you in my car - you wouldn’t let me fuck you. Now I see you stumbling out here absolutely wasted… probably gonna go home with the first guy you see, huh? I figured that might as well be me, baby, you know we'd have a good time.” He started pawing at you, turning to make sure that he dragged you far enough from the view of the patio. 

“Maybe you don’t even want to be taken home, huh? That too special for you? Want to dress like a slut out here? Wanna be treated like a slut, baby? Ill treat you like a slut, I will fuck you right here on this wall-” he snarled into your ear, heavy hot tears begin running down your face. Gator warned you about him. You didn’t listen, you rarely did.

When you first got to Lehigh, Gator told you about the troubled men in the town - most of them connected to his fathers ranch. He told you about the good boys, the church boys… the ones you wouldn’t pick out of a crowd. You and your troubled taste - you should’ve listened to his warnings.

He took one hand off of your shaking body and fumbled with his belt, you try and scream for help - but all that comes out is a shaky breath. Your chest feels tight. How did this happen? You cant see straight. You can’t speak.

You feel his mouth on your neck, his arms pining you against the wall. He wrapped his feet behind your own, leaving you to lay your weight onto him - you had no way to move. His mouth begins trailing over your chest, leaving bites on the tops of your breast. His hands trailing down to the button on your jeans. You feel his fingers slipping under the waistband - your mind begins shutting down. Not allowing yourself to be a witness to what was unfolding. 

What happens next is a blur. Your vision had already darkened - you guess it had to do with a mixture of the alcohol and a mental defense against what was about to happen to you. Everything was muffled, your eyes screwed closed - you felt like you were underwater but there was also a piercing hum. 

Flashes of your childhood flooded your mind. Innocence. You could hear your daddy’s voice, calling your name. 

“Don’t swing any higher, baby girl! If you fall off, you’re gonna get hurt and I hate seeing ya hurt, honey.” He shouts to you from the back door, looking out to you on the wooden swing he hung on the tree for you. 

“But daddy, you’ll be here to catch me! Im not scared!”, you giggled back. You heaved your body back, creating more momentum - flying higher and higher.

“Baby… Daddy wont always be there to catch you. You’re gonna have to figure it out the hard way if you don’t listen to me now.”, it pained him to say. You didn’t know he was sick at the time, that the cancer was back and was wearing into his bones.

You didn’t learn, you fell. You hurt. You cried. He held you.

He didn’t let go, not until the day his body wore out.

You wished you would’ve listened. God, do you miss him.

Heat rushes to your face and you smell the familiar scent of sweat and iron. Warm hands cradled your head, you hear your name being shouted. It sounds like your daddy, but then it twists into the voice of someone else. Someone you need to come back to. He shakes you.

“Baby, you hear me!? Talk to me! I need you to talk to me!”, you regain your vision and snap yourself out of the fog. Your head was bowed down, defeated. You could see Dylan laying on the pavement, holding his nose that was gushing with blood. 

You feel one of the warm hands cup your chin, holding your head up to hold your focus.

Gator.

You’ve seen him after a long night at the ranch, doing God knows what. You’ve seen him after a patrolling shift gone wrong, deadly wrong. You’ve seen him reckless, and demolishing whatever is in his sight. You’ve even seen him when he’s tore men off of you before. But… this…

You’ve never seen this. 

—

💌 a/n: i love you, and if you ever have been in a similar position - i am so sorry and i hope this wasn’t triggering. as a survivor, i tried to make it as simple as possible which still give it the gravity it needed in the story. i love you!!

Tags: @lcversvoid @gxorgxa0000 @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou  @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @b1uecatt @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @pxlldrown @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @chelliquinn @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @localmika @fantasyreader130 @exooojongdaeee @louisbelongstome28 @strangegirl26sff @bearwithegg @babygirldoll @storiepeckham @jas-mines-things @leclercdream @torntaltos @pinkiepieshepardspie @djobug

[louisbelongstome28]

@gatorgirlie has me in a chokehold with her fic and I regret nothing

[i-liketoast]

me stalking the x reader tag of my favourite characters because I refuse to use c.ai

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace: Chapter Two

Thank God for the c*ck!

TWO YEARS LATER

Your one year rental contract turned into two, and you already talked to the landlord - she was willing to let you rent to own. She never thought anyone would ever want to stay that long, so she hadn’t even considered that being an option when you first started renting. Honestly, no one in town expected you to last the first year. Good thing you had help.

You wake up to the sound of the damn rooster that Gator brought over one day. You were perfectly content having a few hens around, but he insisted that - and he quotes, “These little ladies need a cock to straighten them out”.

When you first moved in, you had considered getting some sort of animal. You were thinking like a cute fluffy cat or a bunny, but then slowly but surely hens started just showing up. You didn’t know your neighbors yet, or even where your closest neighbors were - so you just let them roam. 

You were clueless to to the fact that Gator was trying to trap you with some good ol responsibility, knowing damn well a girl like you would fall in love with the animals and then you’d never move away. He snuck a new one on your property ever so often, until he gauged that it would be borderline too much for you. Just enough to keep your hands busy and purposeful, but not enough where they ended up being his responsibility… which, lets be honest, most things in your life started becoming his responsibility. His plan worked, even back then - he knew what you needed. Or maybe what he needed.

Very reluctantly, you tossed your fluffy pink comforter from your body and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Feet sliding into your fuzzy Victorias Secret slippers, your satin nightgown glazing down your thighs and resting above your knee. The fucking sun isn’t even up, yet you are now, all because of the motherfuckin rooster. You decide to make it his problem now too, since he is the culprit.

Grabbing your phone, you make your way to your small ensuite bathroom. Your mini sanctuary and the first of many home projects you had completed…Gator completed. 

He took down the harsh florescent bulbs from the ceiling, patching up the drywall and giving your ceiling a fresh white coat. He installed small pendant lights on either side of your mirror, the one you got off of Facebook marketplace - he had to go pick it up an hour away for you. He tried to tell you that there were plenty of mirrors in town… you told him that none compared to this one. He was entirely underwhelmed when he put it in his truck. But then he caught a glimpse of you in the passenger seat, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkly, smiling ear to ear - he decided right there that if you wanted him to pick up a mirror in Russia… he would. No complaints.

The bathroom needed a lot of help. He painted it baby pink, installed a vanity for you that had plenty of room for all your plush skincare headbands, hung up dainty curtains, and he even sketched and painted an tiny little alligator you’d be able to see every time you stood at the sink. Told you that he drew the alligator because you’d spend hours getting ready in the bathroom, making yourself all pretty and being vain and that you needed a reminder that other people exist. You rolled your eyes, but every time you’re in there - your eyes settle on each time. You think that maybe he just wanted you to think of him every time you got ready.

The sun started peeking over the flat North Dakota ground and the light was hitting the hem of the white lace curtains that hung above your clawfoot tub. The tub was around 3 times as old as you, but it worked - and it was roomy. From the back of the door, you yank your softest robe off the knob and slip it onto your arms, not bothering to tie it closed. Glaring at yourself in the mirror, you take in the disheveled image of yourself. You don’t have the energy to laugh, but a small grin creeps its way to your face as you decide that you look like an electrified poodle.

Eyes bloodshot, cause you stayed up way too damn late reading that smutty romance book. You thought the book would be cute and funny, with how bright and spunky the cover was - but didn’t they tell you not to judge a book by its cover? That thing is sin itself. You had never given yourself to someone in that way… smaller acts, yes, but you never could go all the way. It felt so permanent, that you’d be permanently marked - or worse, that you’d be claimed. Anytime you wanted a bit more than your hand, Gator had a way of making that very complicated for you. You enjoyed last night, just you and the book. Lots of feelings were happening in your pretty little head, and lots of physical reactions were happening in your soft cotton sheets. That was the most action you got in probably 6 months, thanks to a certain someone. 

The silky thoughts were pulled from your head when you once again heard that damn rooster, that woke you up before the sun. Without another thought, you pull open your contacts and scroll down to the ‘G’s.

Gator Bug.

- this motherfucker woke me up too damn early for the third time this week. i’m gettin pissed off. 

🐊: well good morning 2 u 2

He responded fast. Neither of you were morning birds, so that must mean he’s on duty. You already know what that means. You pull your hair back into a low and loose ponytail, long curls flowing down your back. Reaching for the toothbrush, you simultaneously go to respond to the Deputy.

You responded with a smile on your face. You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to make him smile this early in the morning, because he definitely didn’t deserve it with how you woke up. You decided to do it anyways. A little flirt. A memory that would make him laugh. A little secret for you two to share while the sun is starting to awaken.

- i mean it, im close to pulling out the shotgun

You knew that would earn a laugh from him, even this early in the morning. You were the worst shot he had ever seen. He found that out the hard way about 3 months into you living in Lehigh.

He took you out back after setting up a mix of your cherry coke cans and his beer cans as targets. You didn’t even wait two seconds for the Deputy to get out of the way before you started shooting - missing each one. He swears you nearly took off his head in the process. 

If he didn’t think you were so damn pretty, he would’ve taken the gun away from you that day. You thought he was pretty too. Pretty annoying. Pretty reckless. Pretty horny. And usually pretty good at keeping all of the guys within an arms length from you. You hated that, and he loved it.

Your phone dinged again, pulling you from your memory.

🐊: i’ll go ahead and set up a mile wide perimeter, don’t need a murder happening this early in the day ;)

You smiled just thinking about him smiling at you. The damn rooster screeched again. You could make some good chicken and waffles from it. Or chicken pot pie. Or chicken noodle soup. 

Taking one last look in the mirror, you turn and twirl on the slick of your slippers like a ballerina. The creaking of the house below you sounded too angry this early, you agreed with the floor. Flopping down each step of the stairs as if you were saying to your little home, “come on sugar, its time to wake up!” 

All the mental talking you did about food got you hungry, and you knew within minutes that you were bound to see headlights. You always did.

Like most habits, it didn’t start out intentional. He started patrolling the country road, where almost no one ever went. You’d see him in town, and he’d always find an excuse to come and talk to you. Noticing you at the grocery store, he’d just happen to drive by and see you needed help unloading groceries. A month into living in Lehigh, someone hit your mailbox. Before the sun went down that day, it had been fixed without you lifting a finger. Deputy Sheriff Tillman, Gator, was just “serving you the people” as he conveniently said. 

Your Mamaw taught you lots about cooking, and even more about baking. The most natural way to say thank you in your eyes was to make something for him. 

You decided on homemade cinnamon rolls. 

That had him.

You should’ve known, too. Mamaw always said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach - you learned that to be true pretty quickly with Gator Tillman. Suddenly, anything you needed done was magically completed with you barely getting a word out about it. He did it, every time. And you rewarded his belly, every time. 

Since your first day in town, he was just… there. Never asked him why, didn’t care to. If he helped you, why would you question it? It was nice knowing you had a friend. It was a bonus that this friend was strong, big, scary, sexy, enough to where you basically had a built in guard dog. He never asked for anything in return like some men you knew - okay, thats a lie. One time he did ask you to make those gluten free brownies for him. Roy said that gluten free was for yuppies, but Gator liked how it made them so gooey.

When you reach the floor, you pretend to ice skate across the living room and into the kitchen. Morning light spills into the quiet of your little cottage. The softest hues of pink and yellow flood over your silky night dress, causing a slight glare as you pass by the bay window where your cozy breakfast nook sat. 

The best thing about this morning was the preexisting smell of fresh made coffee. You still couldn’t figure out how Gator managed to get the timer set for you so that all you had to do was prep it the night before and it would make it before you got up, bless him. Tugging open the fridge, you grab the milk and eggs. From your pantry, you search for the vanilla extract, cinnamon, bread, and powdered sugar. With a flick of your hand, you mix the ingredients in a shallow pie dish and turn on the stovetop. 

Warm headlights cast over the living room, and within seconds you hear your screen door open and the sound of a key in your storm door. His shoulder dips in first, hand still tugging the key out of the knob and then he’s in. Without a beat, the Deputy starts untying his black combat boots and gently places them next to your ‘outdoor slippers’ as he calls them. They are your uggs, you throw them on before making the long trek out to the mailbox or out back to the chicken coop. He silently crossed the house, you’ll never understand how he can be so stealthy. Yes, its apart of his job - but when you walk across that same floor, its like a symphony of wood screaming for you to get off of it. 

Suddenly, you feel him. Warm arms slipping around your back and waist, his head dipped onto your shoulder. If it was anyone else, you might be flustered by this. But this is Gator - your Gator. Your nothing but friendly, sweet, loving, strong, handsome - okay, nope this is just Gator. Thats all. Just Gator.

He smelled like iron, wood, sweat, and his strawberry vape. You thank the Lord daily that the Deputy finally made the switch from cigarettes. All it took was for you two to get completely wasted one autumn night, get a bit too handsy with one another which led to him leaning in to kiss you. He had never been that bold with you before, and you were questioning everything inside of you as you leaned in to meet him. You were going to let him kiss you, but you pulled back the last second. He wanted to die right there on the spot when you said you didn’t want to kiss a smoker. He never told you, but he made a mental note of your choice of words… didn’t wanna kiss a ‘smoker’ not that you didn’t wanna kiss a ‘Gator’. You haven’t seen him touch one since. Switched over to vaping, which you didn’t mind as much. Especially because he had a strict list of flavors that were approved by you:

Cotton candy

Bubble gum

Strawberry

Cherry

Though, he never got that kiss… it was always never like that between the two of you. But neither of you thought about it again, just passed it off as a drunk night as two friends of the opposite sex.

“Mornin”, he mumbles. Clearly just as enthusiastic as you are about being up this early. He gives your ribs a little tickle as you push back against his chest which is covered by his thick bullet proof vest, you can feel him smile on your shoulder and the steady exhale through his nose onto your neck. You’re not cold, but you get chill bumps.

“Morning, Gator Bug. Working already?” With one hand you trace your fingers across his forearms that are still wrapped around you, and the other hand flips the French toast in the pan (not very gracefully but its fine). 

“Didn’t they have you on night shift like 2 days ago? That’s basically torture. Like genuinely, Im pretty sure that is a torture method…I mean you’d know” You ramble off to the deputy, as you are sure he is moments away from falling asleep standing up. His head is getting heavier on your shoulder, enough where your arm is dipping down. You give him a little push, and he releases you - shaking himself awake.

“Yeah, try telling that to dad.” he says under his breath. You would. You weren’t afraid of Roy Tillman, even though you knew you should be. 

The day you finally met the Sheriff was on Gators birthday. He didn’t tell you it was his birthday, he just told you he had a surprise. He knew Roy, Karen, and the girls were gone for the weekend - something about the campaign. With the ranch to himself, he figured it would be time to give your house or the local bar a break from the two of you. 

He picked you up in his truck and about 10 minutes later, you were pulling under a sign that felt like a curse ‘TILLMAN RANCH’. Next thing you knew, you were brushing a horse named Dolly and everything seemed right in the world. 

Well, until you finally saw your best friends bedroom. That was disgusting.

 You personally removed two risqué pictures from beside his bed of women who you thought looked fun as hell, honestly, you had some friends that they kinda reminded you of. But knowing what this man probably did at night made you want to puke. He wanted so badly to protest, but soon enough, you saw him climb onto the bed and stand up. He was taking off pictures from the ceiling. Barf. You wanted to barf. He flopped back down and handed you the pictures, and went to grab one more that he had in his ensuite bathroom. Barf, again.

As he was in there, you heard a noise. Then it got louder. Next thing you know, the bedroom door swung open and your eyes widened probably wider than the moon herself. 

Sheriff Roy Tillman stood in the door way with that same ugly scowl. He looked at you, then looked at the pictures. Gator emerged from the bathroom with not a clue as to what was going on in his bedroom.

“Alright, thats the last of em - no more girls… ya happy?” He looked up and then snapped his head to the side, staring at his father. “Dad-”, he genuinely almost coughed out.

Roy, eyes still on you, “Seen you at church. You a good christian woman?”, he questioned.

“I definitely try to be sir”, you reply, wondering where the hell he was going with this. Gator had told you a thing or two, and you heard a thing or two around town. 

“And you’re the one my boy has been hanging around with? The girl from North Carolina.”, He more stated rather than questioned.

“Yes, sir. Thats me.” Your voice a bit stronger this time.

Without another word, he looks down at the bikini models in your hand and then up to the walls that they used to cover. Roy gives a slight nod of approval, and looks to Gator.

“And why aren’t you sitting in church son? You follow her around everywhere else… might as well follow her there too.” This wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a statement. It was an order.

He never missed a Sunday with you after that.

The sizzle of the bacon you had absentmindedly thrown into a pan snapped you out of the memory. You were still half asleep, and you knew Gator was probably like 3/4 asleep.

 “Coffee. I need it.” you whine out to him… basically begging him.

He loved when you did that. Your little bratty voice, that whine… he is addicted to you it. 

The mornings he was here with you, he knew his role. Coffee duty. 

After watching far too many tutorials on how to make those leaf designs with the creamer, and staring a little too hard at the baristas at your favorite coffee truck - he learned the craft. Strangely good at it too, and you tell him all the time. You love watching the back of his neck turn pink and his eyes widening before looking anywhere but you. These days, that shade of pink might be your favorite. Sometimes he fully leaves the room for a second, claims he heard a noise or something - liar. 

Men are so funny… so easy. 

No. 

Gator is so funny… Gator is so easy. 

He reaches for his mug, and then yours. His mug is a vintage 2003 starbucks mug you found at goodwill one day, it is almost mosaic with bright green tiles and soft pinks that form into flowers. Yours is an old winnie the pooh mug, you found that one at a yard sale. He knew that the first time you served him coffee, it was out of that green and pink flowery mug and since then, he never even thought about choosing a different. From then on, in his eyes - that one was his. 

He poured yours, taking his time to perfect it exactly to your liking before he poured his own. Hands warm from the coffee, he placed them on the base of your neck sitting at the tops of your shoulders. It wasn’t that you were cold, but he knows that you get tense without even realizing it and this eases you. You’ve taught him the art of the gentle touch. 

At the beginning of your friendship, it was strange and far too intimate. But he was an opportunist. You were walking towards a door? He would open it for you and move his hand to your lower back to guide you in. You were carrying your shopping bags? He’d wrap his hands around your arms, gently making his way down to your hands and slip the bags into his own. You didn’t realize physical touch was so important to you, until Gator came along. He knew these gentle touches grounded you. This was a soft way he could do that for you. He always did things like this, but never fully made a move - after about a year of waiting around for him to, you stopped. You figured he didn’t want that, not with you. And you let it be. Never thought about it anymore.

The silence stretched out, always comfortable… always felt warm. He hands you your mug as you finish with the last of the french toast. You love to make it look a bit fancy, so you drizzle on the maple syrup and the dust on the powdered sugar. Topping his with blueberries - his favorite. 

He grabs the plates from you and you grab the silverware. Unspoken routine. If schedules lined up, he was here. If you had an early client at the salon, you had food for him in the fridge waiting - he knew it too. Even on mornings like this when he was on duty, he would always conveniently patrol the country roads near you. If asked about it, he was say he was just doing a welfare check. Because one things for sure, if Gator Tillman wasn’t getting his daily dose of you your food… someone would have to do a welfare check on him. 

You hear him slide down on the bench under the bay window, his thigh holster making a brushing noise against the wood. With a soft clank, he sets the plates onto the wooden table (the one he built, sanded, and stained for you last summer). Mornings with Gator were your favorite, mostly because he was finally quiet for once. 

You stroll over to the table and slide in beside him. Like a brutally obvious wingman, your soft robe makes you slide in a little further than you meant to - enough where you are all nice and cozied up next to him, unintentionally. The momentum of your body giving his a slight shove. Your little accident immediately earns a wicked grin from him.

He can’t help but make a joke, and you know it’s coming before it leaves his smart ass mouth. You’re already ready for it and shake your head in anticipation. 

“Damn, why don’t you just go ahead and climb up on my lap - save the pleasantries, let’s get into it babydoll.” As he wraps an arm over your shoulders.

This guy. 

Shooting him a glare, you move over a bit. Giving just enough room for your pride to heal and his ego to subside. You let out a huff, a noise that he has memorized probably more than your own voice. 

Before you can protest he grabs your hand. He shakes the smile away and bows his head, leading you into a prayer. Another soft thing he started doing for you after he realized you would silently do for yourself before every meal. God wasn’t uncommon to Gator. He knew about God, he grew up in church and the tough religious traditions of his father. He wasn’t sure if God existed, but if He did - He wasn’t like how his father described Him out to be. But God was real to you. So, Gator willingly obliged… anything to make you happy.

Once he said ‘amen’, there were no words for several minutes. The only noises being the birds outside the bay window, the movement of forks, and Gators moans. You swear he is the most dramatic eater. He would emphasize them a bit too much, just to get you mad - sometimes making you feel other emotions too. Every breath was saved for inhaling the next bite, something you reminded him not to do - especially with french toast (he just inhales the powdered sugar and then has a coughing fit). Before you could finish your one slice, Gator has finished three. You were prepared for that of course, so you slide out of the bench and grabbed more for your the hungry Deputy. 

Before he could dig into his second plate full, the crackle of his radio emitted from his vest. You can’t even understand what’s being said under the static, but he sits up straight and eyes flick up to you letting you know he’s gotta go. He slides out and takes two large steps over to you where your hip leans against the counter. 

“Thanks, honey. Perfect as always.” He slips a hand behind your head pulling your forehead to his lips with a friendly kiss. With one simple goodbye, he’s gone. You hear the front door squeak close, and soon after, the deep rumble of his cruiser. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

A beat passes before you feel a buzz in the pocket of your robe.

It’s your client, Maya. Todays client. That you completely forgot about. 

Maya (client) - “Good Morning! I am so so so sorry but I will be about 30 minutes late to my appointment, if you gotta charge a late fee then I totally understand! I’m on my way!!!!”

…At least one of us is on our way. You swear you’ve never ran faster in your life. The salon is 15 minutes away and your appointment was meant to start in 10 minutes. Thankfully that means you have enough time for the quickest shower of your life, dripping wet curls, no makeup, and a classic all black outfit (your go-to when you don’t want to think).

You already finished your coffee and you downed the rest of Gators that he couldn’t finish, tossing your head back to get every drop before you ran out the door. Your body shook in disgust of his plain black coffee, you could never get him to just add some damn milk. 

Stubborn ass. 

Jumping in your car, you catch something in the corner of your eye in the front yard. Low and behold, its that damn rooster. You look at it with fury, until you realize that because of him, you had a quiet breakfast with your best friend and now you would get to work before your client. 

Thank God for the cock. 

You fly out of the driveway and onto the main road, throwing gravel and kicking up dust behind you. You had a lead foot, you’d get there in time knowing how you drive.

There was a rule in Stark County that all the Deputies followed when it came to you. Well, two rules. 

They couldn’t pull you over (Gator didn’t trust them enough. You lived down the country road out of town and it never got much traffic. He didn’t want anyone getting any bright ideas.) You took full advantage of this, pedal to the medal.

They couldn’t date you (Again, Gator didn’t trust them enough. He never elaborated on this rule. Ever.)

Pulling into the salon, you barely shift into park before you’re throwing yourself at the front door. Flip on the lights, turn on the diffuser, and grab your apron. You’re not even settled when the door opens, and your client walks in with two coffees. That’s your favorite thing, because if a clients gonna be late - they better not show up empty handed. You are about to be so caffeinated, and you’re fine with it.

“Girl - you will not believe what happened to me this morning. My boyfriends ex shows up and smashes his car windows and slashed his tires… they’ve been broken up for like 3 months! She’s fucking crazy!” She exclaims, a little too loud for your taste. Still too early. “We had to call the cops and everything!”, She continues.

Ahhhhh, the radio crackle.

Maya is booked for a cut and color, and you start with a rough cut because she wants a decent amount of length taken off and then you waste less product. As you snip away at the bleach dried ends, she is telling you all of the juicy details of this mornings fiasco. Being a hair stylist, you hear a lot of drama from around the town. That is probably why you were able to settle in as fast as you did. Secrets hold power, and your clients trust you with their hair - they figure they might as well trust you with their secrets too. You were more than fine with that. Its not like you told anyone anyways, well besides your girls back in NC and obviously Gator.

When it’s finally time to go mix her color, you head to the back that acts as a supply room slash break room. You take a minute to drink some water (you’ve maxed out your caffeine intake for like the next three days within the span of 2 hours), but more importantly, you make a phone call. He picks up on the first ring. 

“Miss me already?”

“Ex girlfriend smash up his truck?”

“Oh my God, please tell me-“

“New girlfriend is in my chair”

“Holy shit, how did we get that lucky… you free tonight?”

“Ralph’s? 8 sound okay?”

“I’ll see you there, pretty girl”

“It’s a date, Gator bug”

Your screen flicks to black as you slide your phone into your back pocket. You never call it gossip when you’re chatting shit to Gator. It basically just feels like you’re informing the other half of yourself so that you combined can be fully aware of the piping hot tea. 

It’s never out of malice, but it’s always over drinks. 

Gators job is to bring the details and damage, and yours is to bring the drama and dirt. He gets the facts, and you get the feelings. Whoever’s information is spicer wins, and the other pays - Gator almost always has to pay. You cant help that you’re a winner.

You grab her color mixture and head to the front of the salon, with a new sense of purpose. It was just healthy competition, no foul play. You’d ask the right questions and pray for the filthiest answers. Your client would talk, and you’d be stashing the information away - hoping for your win. And yes, sometimes you embellished a little to Gator about all the drama, but it’s just for added effect. 

You knew that your the Deputy must be pulling all of his strings right now: Looking up the ex, the current girlfriend (Maya, your client), and the boyfriend all in his database. Is that illegal? No, it’s just research for his case… right? Plus, this is Gator we’re talking about here. When has he ever done anything the legal way? You knew that he was corrupt, crooked, and worst of all… a killer - you knew what happened on the ranch. Did you know everything? No, but you knew enough. Did he know you knew it? No, of course not. But, the amount of times you’ve seen him hobbling into your bathroom in the middle of the night, coated in blood - that wasn’t his own?  You knew. You didn’t ask. He kept you safe, and you might be naive when it comes to some things… but you’re not stupid. 

Your mind drifts back to the task at hand. You begin the ruby color on her hair, telling her how vibrant her blue eyes will look when you’re finished. Deciding that you want to win free drinks tonight, you decide to keep the compliments towards Maya flowing.

“Your man is going to have a heart attack when he sees how good you look… he will forget all about his truck, and definitely all about his ex girlfriend!” You almost hate how slithery you’re being, almost.

“What’s her problem anyway?!” You kept going. Fishing for every little secret your client was willing to let roll off her tongue. She began to list off everything that is wrong with this other girl, without you even probing further.

“- And it was a brand new truck! Literally got it a week ago and now its smashed to pieces. Thankfully, he had Venmoed me the money for this appointment before it all happened”, she continued.

“Oh, he’s paying? Thats nice! I wonder if that’s why she is mad… do you think she knew he was spending all that money? I mean, probably not - if she knew about it, that would mean he is talking to her behind your back”

When you played a game with Gator Tillman, you had to get dirty. Because that boy? He wasn’t afraid to get filthy.

“Yeah, Im pretty sure thats why his ex freaked out, he never spent money on her. She’s knocked up too right now, like she’s I think four months along? Her feet look so big and gross… so I think its pregnancy hormones.” She just casually dropped, not even putting two and two together.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

You could taste the burn already.

You’re a winner.

8pm couldn’t come quicker, and you couldn’t wait to see his face when you told him what you found out.

—

a/n 💌🤧 POSTING EARLY BC I CAN. the reception you guys have given both leather & lace AND myself is crazy. thank you for being here - i hope you’re not too mad at the time jump!! i figured if they were going to truly be best friends who knew each other like the back of their hand, they needed some time under their belt together.

wanted to also give a bit of a warning. this issss soft!bsf!gator BUT he is still mostly OC - will not follow total canon storyline but tillmans are still toxic and deadly!!

MAJOR WARNING ‼️ next chapter will contain graphic material including SA.

Tags: @lcversvoid @gxorgxa0000 @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou  @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @b1uecatt @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @pxlldrown @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @chelliquinn @vialldn3012 @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @localmika @fantasyreader130 @exooojongdaeee @louisbelongstome28 @strangegirl26sff @bearwithegg @babygirldoll @storiepeckham @jas-mines-things @leclercdream

[gatorgirlie]

Leather & Lace: Chapter 1

Cherry Coke

warnings: mentions of sexual acts, but i think that’s all (let me know if i missed anything - very new to this 💌)

wc: 3.6k

There are three things Gator Tillman knows like the back of his hand.

Money. Guns. And you.

One of those being far more dangerous than the rest, but he didn’t know that yet.

In the stretched out plains of Stark County, North Dakota, sits Lehigh. A small town where no one purposefully means to stay longer than they have to, but sometimes people just stick. You were one of those people. 

Roy Tillman, Sheriff of Stark County, knew everything that happened within his county lines. If someone had a flat tire, he knew about it. If someone adopted a new dog, he knew about it. If someone was having an affair, he knew about it (and usually blackmailed them because of it). And more than anything else, if someone new was in town, he definitely knew about it. He knew about you the second your vanilla cashmere perfume floated into southeastern North Dakota. 

You came up from North Carolina, figuring you might as well try the other state with ‘North’ in front of it. Coming from the south, you thought you knew country - but there was nothing that could prepare you for what Stark County had to offer. As soon as your tires crossed the county line, you were greeted with a scowl from a man on a billboard and probably the most redneck image you’ve seen since you left the Carolinas.

RE-ELECT SHERIFF ROY TILLMAN ‘A HARD MAN FOR HARD TIMES’

An image of the American flag stilled in the background. A ginormous badge. A man on a horse. And a man staring off into the distance, attempting to look like the hero in an old western your Papaw used to watch. You were willing to bet all your hard earned money (You had less than a grand to your name) that the knock off John Wayne was Sheriff Roy Tillman. You couldn’t help but giggle a little. Men always made you giggle - especially when they had this macho man attitude, they had no clue they looked dumb as rocks. 

It was the middle of June, windows down and music up. You were blasting ‘A Place In This World’ by Taylor Swift - you felt like the lyrics matched the moment as you were closing in on town you would soon be calling home. Your curls whipping in the midwestern wind as they tangled up into your sunglasses. Your cherry coke was sweating just as bad as you were, but it tasted better than the gas station coffee that you had gotten a couple hours ago that you left unfinished. You hadn’t seen any speed limit signs, so you made up your own speed - 70mph sounded great. Well, it did. 

Until you heard the sirens.

Well thats one way to start off with a bang.

You see the blue and white lights flashing behind you in the bright of the day, siren blaring and ruining the vibes that your playlist (named ‘PRETTY PINK PILATES PRINCESS PLAYLIST’  that Spotify made for you) had set. You didn’t run, you knew better - you didn’t plan on causing problems for the law at least not on your first day.

You pull over and look at what your working with. Your hair looks perfect - you say a silent thank you to God that he gave you peak Julia Roberts 90s curls. Where is your damn lip gloss? Oh, God - you hear the door of the cruiser close. Fenty Beauty. Thank the good Lord that you found it in time. You don’t even need a mirror to apply the gloss, this is like muscle memory to you. 

Boots.

Heavy boots. Its a man… Bingo.

You quickly do a little tussle in your white spaghetti strap tank and let your bubblegum pink lace bralette peak out the top, showing off a generous amount - a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do and boy… do these girlies work overtime for you. You become overly aware that your denim cut offs are making your thighs look a little too plump, now you’re just showing off. You almost feel bad for the man, but its too late now.

He’s here.

“Afternoon Miss… Im Deputy Tillman with the Stark County Sheriffs Department. Do you know why I pulled ya over today?”

Girl.

This man. Is so fine. You’re mentally taking a picture of him so that you can describe him in explicit detail to your friends on FaceTime later. The only downside about this moment was the thick smell of cigarettes off of him. God, you hated cigarettes.

“No Deputy, Im sorry - I don’t have a clue!” You reply with the most sticky sweet southern drawl. You know what to do, what to say, how to say it. You’ve never gotten a ticket, and one of your life’s missions is to never get one. 

“Gotcha going 72 in a 50 zone… where ya going in such a hurry?”, he asked, already knowing that he was gonna let you go - gotta keep himself on the good side of a pretty girl like you. You handed him over your drivers license, registration, and proof of insurance. He smiled ever so slightly when he read your name. He was also confused as why someone from North Carolina was all the way up here when it wasn’t hunting season - not that you looked like the hunting type. 

The wind sending him a love letter with its only content being the smell of your perfume - definitely vanilla, but something else… cherries? He was thanking God that he has his sunglasses on, he could unashamedly look wherever he so pleased without you knowing a damn thing - but he aint the first man to look at you, and he sure as shit aint the last… you knew exactly where the deputy was looking.

“Im going to be honest with you officer-”

“Deputy”

“-Deputy… right. My apologies. Im new in town, just rollin in… bags are in the car and everything - see?” You motion to your absolutely filled to the brim Toyota 4Runner. He had never seen so much pink in all of his life. Pink suitcases. Pink pillows. He can count at least 3 pairs of pink slippers in the passenger floorboard. A frog stuffed animal that you had sitting in your passenger seat… wearing the damn seatbelt. If it wasn’t pink, it was something glittery. You get the angle just right with the sun, he was willing to bet you could blind someone with the amount of glitter you had in here. 

You see him grin, crooked and slow - measuring.

“And you’re comin here… to Lehigh…to live?” He was expecting Ashton Kutcher to jump out from the trunk or something, because you look like you just moved out of a barbie dream house and aint nothing in this whole damn county would make you blend in. This has to be a joke.

“Nothin worked for me back home, figured id try something new.” You said as confident as possible, ignoring the churning in your belly and the slamming of your heart. You had no clue what you were doing all the way out here. You hadn’t told your mama - not that she would’ve cared enough to convince you to think twice. You had no job lined up. Did this small town even have a salon, let alone enough people to fill your books? The only thing you had was a ridiculously inexpensive (compared to North Carolina) year long rental contract for a little yellow house with blue shutters - that and all your pink glittery belongings.

The way he smiled back at you… gosh - it was like the movies.

He couldn’t help but smile at that. He didn’t know why, but he was a mix of amused, jealous, and giddy all at the same time. Amused, because who the hell would want to try out living in Lehigh as a choice? Jealous, because wow - did he want a choice, a taste of liberty. Giddy? Yeah, he just met the prettiest girl he had ever seen and now she is gonna live in his puny, boring as shit, isolated town… hell yeah he was giddy. 

There was no way in heaven or hell that he was giving you a ticket, but you didn’t know that. He began pulling something out of his bulletproof vest and you assumed the worst. You straightened your back as if you were getting scolded and fought back pouting out your bottom lip. Then he handed it over to you.

His card. His name. His number. His email. Him. 

Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman.

“Im gonna let ya off with a warning… cant ruin yer optimism about these parts that fast. Speed limits 50, go 50. Call me if ya need anything.” He lowered his sunglasses and you finally got to see his fucking gorgeous hazel eyes, “And I do mean anything.” He winked as he walked away, boots heavy on the ground.

You sit there for a moment in a spiral, noticing that his lights have now turned off. This was not exactly how you imagined the first few minutes in your new town to go, but you weren’t exactly mad at it either. You see him pop an illegal u-turn right in front of you. This fucking guy… but I guess he can get away with it right?

Tillman. Tillman. It hits you. He is related to the Sheriff. You think about the wannabe John Wayne on the billboard, and then your mind flicks to the Deputy you just met - they have to be father and son. You shake him out of your mind for now, you have like a million other things to think about that are way more important than a hot nepo baby.

Finally settling down, you pull back onto the road and continue making your drive to your new home. GPS starts spinning out on you, but thankfully you know its right down the road. Just look for the little yellow cottage with the white trim and blue shutters. Home. Your home. Feels weird to say, or to think about. Living in the suffocation of your mother, you dreamed of something for yourself - who knew North Dakota would gift that to you?

It hits you in a wave of excitement when you finally see it from a distance. Its small and its yours. You pull into the long driveway - grass overtaken in the middle, just leaving dirt underneath where the tires pass over. Theres a tree that canopies out, limbs shading the house to a degree. You park your 4runner underneath it and sit in absolute silence for a beat. By the time you reach the front door, the sun has started making its descent over the grassy yard. You witness the glory of a North Dakota sunset for the first time, realizing that this has been gatekept - and you intended to keep that secret now as well. Pulling out the key from the lockbox, you slid it into the knob and turned.

The old walnut colored wood floors looked like gold as it was bathing in the sunset. The walls were an off white, cream-ish color, making the whole house illuminate. It smelled like musk and old wood, it smelled like your Mamaw - bringing a whole new feeling of comfort. 

Rosie, your landlord, offered to leave a few pieces of furniture for you since she knew you were coming alone and only brought what you could fit in your SUV. She left a wooden table with a built in lamp and a green and white checkered love seat in the living room. In the kitchen, she left a small white metal table that had seen much better days. It was up against a large bay window that overlooked the backyard. Your backyard. 

You made your way through the home. A small powder room, with walls decorated in pink floral wallpaper - easily was from the 70s. Next to it, a small room with French doors that spill into the living room. It was too small to be a bedroom, you thought it was logical to be an office. Slipping back through the living room, you ascend the wooden staircase. Every step made a noise, like the house was surprised it had a visitor. You are met with a small landing with a circular window that overlooks the driveway and onto the main road. On one side of the landing, there is a small guest bedroom, and sitting on the other side is the primary bedroom. On the far wall, a wood framed queen sized bed sits centered. 

You make your way into the bedroom, flipping on the light switch in the process. The light is flickering ever so slightly, and you can tell its just a loose bulb that needs to be secured a bit more. The issue is, you are 5’1 and the bed isn’t close enough to the light. You dont have a ladder and you consider just flinging yourself off the bed to pull a move. Deciding that jumping with force, not a ton of grace, and glass doesn’t make the best scenario - you decide to just turn off the light. You’ll deal with the darkness when the sun finally sets. To the side of the room, you see a little ensuite bathroom. Before you have the chance to walk in, you see a set of headlights coming up your drive.

You creep downstairs, silently praying that you remembered to lock the front door. You have nothing in the house with you, everything is still packed. Even your leopard print purse is sitting in the passenger seat right beside Scroggy (your frog stuffed animal that you’ve had since you were 5 that you named after your kindergarten teacher), which unfortunately is where your taser and pepper spray currently are. You hear a knock on the door and your throat feels like sandpaper. You peek out from the staircase and through the glass panes of the window beside the door, you see him. The Deputy? You quickly make your way to the bottom of the staircase and across the wooden floors to the door. You swing it open, probably a little too eagerly. 

He stood there, filling the door frame. Tall, dark eyes, dark hair, dashing - fuck. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. He had shed his vest, so unfortunately, you were eye level with the broadest chest and shoulders you think you’ve ever seen. You notice how he fills out his shirt, shit - he probably sizes down on purpose, you thought. He notices you noticing. You speak before he can, cause Lord you do not want to have him call you out on staring. 

“Evening Deputy, is something the matter?”

“Good Evening, miss… I was just finishing my patrol when I saw the light on and…- this place has been empty for quite a while and I just wanted to come check in and make sure there wasn’t any shenanigans happenin in here is all…” he trailed off, clearly less confident than earlier. You can tell he just smoked, almost made your nose curl. 

“Oh, no… sorry for wasting your time Deputy. Im renting here from Rosie Connors. I can show you our contract if you-”

“No need. I- I believe ya.” Oh yeah, this is an awkward silence. He shifts from his toes back onto his heels as he thinks of all the ways he just completely ruined his meet-cute with you earlier. He is trying to quickly think of a way to turn this around: help her, dumbass.

“Sun is going down quick, you got in kinda late. Would you like some help unloading? Might make it a little faster for you?” He rambles.

You can tell he feels silly, and you like that. You grew up with the only men in your life being your daddy and your papaw. Neither were serious men. Seeing this Deputy, the Sheriffs son at that, fumbling his words? Yeah, that’ll do it for you - a man you can laugh at is a man you’d not entirely loath. It slips before you can catch yourself, a true giggle leaving your lips.

He swore his world stopped right there. Standing there in the cool June evening breeze on your front porch, he touched Heaven.

Before you could even reply, you were forcing him out of the door frame as he stumbled back onto the front porch. You skipped down the front steps and made your way to the car, he followed. As the trunk flew open, he realized he had entirely underestimated how many shades of pink there were. The amount of blankets you had was ridiculous. He pictured laying out all of the blankets across your yard, thinking it would probably cover the entire three acre lot. He carried load after load, bag after bag, until soon all that was left in the vehicle was loose glitter and somehow, a pink feather. The sun had long gone, dipped below the fields as the lights in the house were all you had left. 

The Deputy rolled his shoulders, he realized that was probably the weirdest exercise he’s had in a while. He thought about how on probably his 8th load into the house, the box he was carrying felt a bit heavy. He looked in the box and the entire thing was filled to the brim with stuffed animals, yet it felt like it was 60lbs. He realized just how ridiculous he was because he was considering squatting stuffed animals. He could tell absolutely no one about this.

He caught you looking at him with an amused smile on your face.

“Well… your car is empty. My back is shot. Im pretty sure I have a piece of glitter in my fucking eye. Is there anything else you need, considering that I’m completely spent?” He sassed at you, huffing. He loved every fucking second of this, he would stay here until the sun burnt out if you asked him to.

“Actually, there is one thing…” you smirked.

Something in your eyes caught his attention. Then the way you twirled around to the staircase and swayed your hips in those little cutoff shorts he had been thinking about since earlier caught the attention of something else inside of him, or a certain part of him. He followed, because of course he did. You made your way to the landing and told him to follow you. He did, eagerly. He had seen the whole downstairs, he didn’t see bedrooms - he knew what was up here.

Shoulders back, chest out, cocky grin - he strolled into the bedroom, like he knew exactly where this was going. He imagined you thanking him in the way he deserved, on your knees with that infuriatingly sexy lip gloss wrapped around him. But when you turned around, you pointed up.

It was dark, he didn’t know what he was meant to be looking at and you didn’t speak. He flipped the switch that was beside him and saw the light flickering. He had never read a situation that wrong before. He jutted out his chin and held his tongue over his front teeth, pushing his lips out. Yeah, he definitely couldn’t tell anyone about this. 

“I cant reach it and I was thinking about supermaning off the bed, but now - you’re here! Can you just -” Before you could finish, he was twisting the bulb without him saying a word. It flickered one last time before evening out into a glow over the whole room. He looked flushed, probably from all of that unloading he did. Thats what you assumed.

“Thats everything that I can think of needing help with so far…” as you took in the newly lit room, and finally taking a look at the ensuite. 

You move passed the Deputy and headed downstairs, meanwhile he stood there at the end of your bed questioning everything he thought he was. You had no idea the man upstairs was unraveling. But if you did, you would’ve laughed.

He finally made his way down the steps, slowly and spent. He looked over at you and then silently made his way to the front door. Was he… sulking? You followed him out onto the front porch. He looked down at you, and hated himself for it. 

There you were, sweaty from the work you did unpacking as he was unloading, eyes glittering in the moonlight, hair like what he’d imagine a mermaids hair to be like… and you had no clue the affect you had on him - despite him spending the whole evening with you with nothing in return. 

You leaned in, grabbing his bicep (for balance purposes only, people), and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. The moment was quiet. Warm. And soft. He never had soft. You were soft.

“Thank you for everything, Deputy. From not giving me a ticket, to the lightbulb - you made my first day pretty remarkable.” You said in a hushed tone, as if you were trying not to let the crickets in the summer night hear you. 

“Gator-”, he clears his throat, “You can just call me Gator.” He felt entirely exposed, like his name wasn’t his name anymore - as if it was the key to his soul or something.

“Gator…” You smiled. He let you call him Gator. “Thank you, Gator.”

Still feeling like he just laid out his whole life for you, despite only telling you to call him by his first name, he turned and made his way down the front steps. When he reached the cruiser, he swung the door open and looked up at you.

“Goodnight, darlin.” He tipped his head and sank down into the cruiser, eyes never leaving yours.

That was the exact moment of Gator Tillman entering your orbit.

You would’ve never guessed that he’d be the one to hang the moon and the stars for you.

💌 - THANK YOU FOR READING!!! if you liked it, please leave your thoughts in the comments, like, and reblog! if you want to be added or removed from the tag list - you can comment or message me!

Tags: @lcversvoid @gxorgxa0000 @kissalready @insomniacpen @nosugarallspice @frankenkyle19 @maevebloom @scaramou  @rhaenyrasflame @djosfool @madisonbeersangel @s111ut @catwmah @neeverrgettinglaid @djob00bies @stoneyggirl2 @b1uecatt @sadieshairbrush @soggycerealtbh @djopug007 @pxlldrown @mojosodoppe @ch3rryshark @joekeerylice @buckysgrace @purplequeen64-stuff @chelliquinn @vialldn3012 @cecesblogg @itsdjoverr @localmika @fantasyreader130