#just a tease for what's to come immediately after chapter 5 ♡ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecreelhouse · 1 month

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tramps like us

Paring: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Summary: As spring arrives, Gator learns just what family really means— blood or found, the hard work of healing finally begins to pay off, and a new chapter you never expected, begins.

CW/Tags: fluff. so. much. fluff. , hurt/comfort, language, brief smut (oral, f receiving, dirty talk, etc.), brief internalized ableism, mentions of alcohol/weed, found family dynamics, did I mention this chapter has fluff?

WC: 10.6k

〘 series masterlist ✧.┊this is a sequel to part time soulmate, full time problem ✧.┊listen to the series playlist here. ✧.┊read on AO3 〙

A/N: so excited we’re finally at this chapter!! I wrote the sappiest part of this first before anything else in the whole series lmao, and I’m so excited to share it with y’all 🥹 thank you as always to anyone who has supported this series so far!! love y’all ♡ (also if any of y’all can spot the very vague sopranos reference I will (consensually) blow u a kiss xoxo.)

chapter 5 ✧.┊

home - edward sharpe & the magnetic zeros

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋆｡♪ home, let me come home / home is wherever I’m with you / ah home, yes i am home / home is when I’m alone with you♬ ₊˚.

·············································

It’s the start of spring, and the city is abuzz with a fresh start of a new season; not much is in bloom yet, but there’s a mood shift in the house as the days grow a little longer again. It’s amazing what a little extra daylight can do for one’s mental health.

Over the following few months from when he first moved to Brooklyn, Gator finds his way in this new life. While he still struggled with finding a new career path to start on, he helps out at the bookshop, but you’re convinced he’s doing it to spend more time with Lovebug.

Regardless, you’ve enjoyed watching him come out of his shell, find his way and become his own person, even if just a little bit.

Ever since he lost half his eyesight, Gator had countless visits to the doctor. More often than not, he’d ask you to come along, and naturally, you’d always join; most of the time there wasn’t much you could do beyond giving him support, but he was more grateful than he ever showed.

He never had to say it, you knew he still struggled with expressing most emotions, especially towards others. It might’ve been easiest showing the raw side of his feelings to you, but that didn’t stop his insecurities completely. It’s something Gator was working hard on in therapy, and though it wasn’t easy for him to believe, you reminded him constantly of the progress he was making.

Slowly, with your support, he was beginning to believe it, too.

In the tail end of winter, the cast on his arm was removed; his bones thankfully healed with ease. The bandage over his eye was next; the first time you see the now empty socket, despite telling yourself to not make a fuss, you’re in shock.

The nurse removed the bandage for the doctor to examine Gator’s healing progress, then carefully takes out a thin, plastic shell from the socket. He explained to you weeks earlier how it was implanted immediately after the initial surgery to keep shape of the eye socket while healing.

You stood off to the side, eyes wide with a dropped jaw.

Gator catches your expression with his good eye as he sits on the exam table, throwing a dim smirk your way. “See, told ya’ you’d think I’m gross.”

The doctor steps back while the nurse leaves, giving the two of you space and privacy.

“Huh? No, no way. It’s just such a… jarring change, obviously much more jarring for you than me, but I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Your hand rested on his face, the side of the removed eye, thumb soothingly running along his cheekbone.

“Eyes or no eyes, you’re still you.”

“Shoulda’ known you’d be corny about this,” He teased, earning an eye roll and breathy laugh from you.“You don’t think I look—“

“Whatever negative thing you’re ‘bout to say ain’t flyin’ with me. I love you, no matter what. So you should love you, too.”

“Alright, cool it, Sunshine.” His smirk this time was a little brighter. You stood close as your hand slipped into his; you gave a tight, quick squeeze.

With the lapse in conversation, the doctor, an older woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, returned. “Everything looks good, Gator, it healed nicely, and faster than I anticipated.”

“Got lucky t’have a good friend that’s a nurse. She helped lots.”

Hearing Gator call Ivy his friend set off a bloom of warmth in your heart. It was the first time he called anyone in the group a friend. That alone was huge progress.

“Well, she sure knew what she was doing!” Even her laugh was warm and inviting. “Have you had any phantom pains?”

“Nah, but it kinda still feels like it’s… there? That probably sounds weird.”

“Not at all, that’s rather common after surgery, too. Some folks have it for a brief time, others have it for much longer. If it gets to be painful, though, call and we’ll check it out.” The doctor watched as he nodded, adding, “Any questions, or anything we might’ve missed?”

Gator was quiet, leg bouncing while anxiety built up. He wouldn’t know until he asked. Again, you squeezed his hand; a sign he wasn’t going this alone. “S- so, what’s next? I’ve been kinda curious ‘bout one of those… y’know… uh…”

The doctor caught on immediately, “Well, that’s up to you, Gator. You can leave it be, or try an eye patch, or we could discuss the option of a prosthetic eye. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Does a fake eye just… pop in there?”

“We’d have to give you surgery again, it’s a permanent implant that’ll hold the prosthetic properly, help it move along with your existing eye—“

“They move?!”

The doctor didn’t laugh at him, but her smile grew at his surprise. “It’s not perfect, but yes, it’s meant to appear as natural as possible. The pupil wouldn’t adjust according to light, either, but most folks can’t tell unless they really give your eyes a good, long look.”

“C- can we try that?” He didn’t hesitate like you expected from previous conversations. He sounded… hopeful. Cautious, but hopeful.

“Let’s give you another month, just to be safe on the healing, and then you can come back so we can figure a plan out. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” He breathed as his smile brightened even more.

On the walk home, his smile never faded. This was the most optimistic he was since he arrived.

“Y’know, if this works out, I won’t look like a total fre—“

You stopped in your tracks before pulling him aside, out of the path of irritated fast walkers. “Gator, with or without a prosthetic, you’re not a freak. I support whatever you decide, and I can only imagine this would help you feel more comfortable about the entire situation, but you’re not gross, or a freak, or any of that shit you’ve been saying.”

He fidgeted with his glasses like he was adjusting them. It’s a habit he recently picked up. “Yeah, but—“

“Nope. I’ll annoy the shit out of ya’ and remind ya’ every day that you’re wonderful, no matter what.”

“Wonderful? You’re pushin’ it, darlin’.” He snorted, deflecting. You grabbed his hand, softening his features as your fingers laced in his.

“I mean it, jerk.”

“Not sure I can believe ya’ when you say it like that, but okay.” He glanced down before stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s funny?”

“Ya’ stopped here on purpose, huh?”

Your face scrunched in confusion before you follow his gaze down; beneath your feet was a set of large, bold letters, reading ‘you look lovely’ spray painted onto the pavement.

“You’re really outdoin’ yourself with the cheesiness today.”

“I swear I didn’t see this,” You laughed, shoving your hand against his shoulder playfully. “But ya’ better start believing it. Totally some weird sign you should be nicer to yourself.”

“Or what? Gonna threaten t’kick my ass and not do anythin’?” He taunted while he poked his tongue out, continuing to walk on. You opened your mouth to argue back, but closed it again, grumbling as you caught up to him.

“One of these days, Tillman, m’gonna show ya’ I can pack a punch,” You smirked before rethinking your words. “Not- not like saying that as an actual threat, I don’t- I’m not gonna actually—“

Gator pulled you into his side while he snickers, “Oh, ya’ totally are, now I gotta sleep with my only eye open.”

It took a second for the joke to land, but once you started to laugh, he felt the tiniest bit of weight lifted from his shoulders.

A prosthetic wouldn’t instantly fix the trauma from losing his sight, but it could be a step in the right direction to help him feel comfortable in his own skin again. Maybe feeling comfortable could help him face the trauma with a little more courage.

As Gator listened to your syrupy sweet laugh, he knew one thing was certain— that he’d never have to carry this weight on his own, and he’d never have to fight his demons alone, either.

·············································

It takes time— while the flowers are beginning to bloom in April, pastels coloring into the city while fragrant, sweet scents linger in the warm air weaving among and between the city’s grid— but Gator finally begins to feel like he belongs among everyone in the house.

He still struggles time to time, but with his own self doubt, not with anyone in the house. The first time he finally feels like he connects with someone in the house, without you, is the day Ty comes home from his top surgery.

You bound down the stairs, excited to greet Ty and Ivy in the foyer; Ivy’s got an arm linked with his, taking their time to enter the house. They shuffle in like an elderly couple, making you giggle.

“Ives, I got top surgery, I’m still able to walk. My tits might be gone but my legs are right here.” He complains as you stifle more laughter while pursing your lips.

Throwing your arms out, ready to hug him, he shoots a death glare, stopping you immediately. He sternly warns, “Sunshine, don’t you dare. I don’t have airbags to protect me from your bone crushing hugs anymore.”

“Right, sorry,” You smile bashfully with a shrug. “How ya’ doin’ after that?”

“Well… aside from the pain and the whole gross ‘draining the void of where my tits once were’ thing, I’m alright.” Ty grins tiredly, unlinking arms with Ivy as he carefully makes his way into the living room. He bumps into a recliner on the way, and Ivy curses herself for letting him walk alone.

“You know… it’s not the healing from surgery I’m worried about with Ty, it’s the fuckin’ pain meds— he’s clumsy enough when he’s sober.” Ivy groaned, watching him like a hawk as he settled himself onto the couch slowly, but thankfully, with ease.

“I heard that!”

You stifle a laugh before calling out to Ty, “Need anything from the kitchen?”

His face lights up, “Ice cream? Please tell me it’s still in there. Big tub, has my name on it.”

“No, I ate it all,” Jinx deadpans as she walks out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“On god, Jinx— ”

“Dude, I’m joking.” She replies before heading upstairs. “Welcome home, by the way!”

Ty grumbles under his breath, “Man, ice cream’s nothin’ to fuck around about.”

While Ivy helps Ty build a fortress of pillows for him to sit upright on, you head into the kitchen to find Gator putting dishes away. You come up behind him, about to wrap your arms around him, but panic, wondering if it would startle him since his peripheral vision was limited now.

As you pause behind him, he laughs, “Hi, Darlin’,” before turning to face you.

“How’d you know I was gonna hug you?”

“I can still hear, y’know.” He jokes, holding his arms out to you. Face heating up, you feel embarrassed, but you still enter his embrace, burying your face into his chest. “And see enough.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t say anything.”

“Footsteps, everyone’s got their lil’ sounds, you shuffle your feet a lot, like a penguin.”

“Oh. Duh. Right. Wait, like a what?”

He laughs, tugging you closer as he glazes over your question. “How’s Ty doin’?”

“He seems okay overall, just sore. I can only imagine how relieved he must feel, though. He wants ice cream so I’m gonna grab some.”

Gator releases you, shrugging as he says, “I can get it.”

“Oh, hey, you don’t have to.”

“I wanna… if that’s okay.”

Surprised, you respond, “Yeah, of course.”

It’s not that there was any negative energy between anyone and Gator, but he’s been having a hard time feeling like he belongs with you all, feeling like he’s invading a space he shouldn’t be in. Everyone’s been sweet and patient, though, and slowly, Gator’s been opening up and feeling like he’s part of this family.

You lean against the counter, peering out of the doorway into the living room as Gator gives a hesitant wave to Ty before handing the ice cream over. Once Ty gives a looped up, yet welcoming, “Hey, thanks, man,” you watch Gator’s shoulders relax.

Ivy heads back into the kitchen, mirroring you as she leans against the counter, too. Softly, she confides, “Ty was saying on the way home how cool he thinks Gator is.”

You snort, “Really? I mean, that’s sweet, but he’s definitely a dork like me. Probably more than me.” You look on as Gator slowly grows more comfortable in conversation, leaning back in the recliner.

While Ivy chuckles, she shrugs. “Maybe, but I think Ty’s been kinda looking up to Gator lately.”

Your brows furrow, taken aback. “Huh? Why?”

“I think watching Gator make progress has been helping Ty in his own way… helps him see that he can lean into his masculinity while not giving into the toxic side of it all, y’know?” Ivy smiles while she crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back further. “Your boy’s a better person than he realizes.”

“Don’t I know it.” You sigh, smiling, but it never reaches your eyes. “Wish he did, too.”

“He’ll see it someday. He seems a lot happier since the first day he got here.” Ivy observes, glancing over to you with a soft expression. “It took a bit for you, too. For all of us, really. We were all a little lost, looking for a safe place to heal, and each of us has a success story, and a real family, too. Gator’s no different.”

“Christ, Ives, I wish I had a dollar for every time you made me cry in the damn kitchen.”

Ivy pulls you into a side hug with a soft laugh; the two of you continue to be nosy, watching Ty and Gator continue conversation.

“Does it… does it hurt?” You overhear Gator asking Ty, resting on the couch— the velvet green couch Ty’s been asking about for years now— all looped up on pain medication. Then he quickly adds, “I mean that’s- is that a dumb question? It’s definitely a dumb question.”

Ty shakes his head, “Nah, man, not dumb.” He thinks for a moment before adding, “It does hurt, but the pain was worse with ‘em, if that makes sense.”

Gator nods, “Yeah… like, emotionally, you mean?”

“Uh-huh,” Ty responds, spoonful of ice cream muffling him. “But binders? Jesus Christ, I thought bras were bad, but you wear one of those too long, you can really fuck up your lungs and ribs and shit.”

“Wait, seriously?” Gator’s genuinely shocked by this; living in a house with some diversity has made him willing to learn from others, even in the form of obvious questions. “Shit. At least you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it anymore, right?”

Ty laughs, not cruelly, but over Gator’s innocence asking questions and wanting to learn. He jokes, “I’m a free man now. Minus this annoying ass chest compression bullshit. I wanna rip it off, but Ivy would murder me.”

Ivy, much to Ty’s dismay, enters with you at the wrong time. “Damn fucking right I will, Ty. Last thing you need is bleeding out all over Mama’s couch you want so badly.”

You sit on the arm of the chair Gator’s in, leaning down to kiss his head. It’s brief, but Ty still catches it, grimacing with a muttered, “Ew. Gross.”

As you flip Ty off, Gator, with a snort, grabs your hand and shoves it down. “C’mon, don’t be a jerk-off.”

“When are you two gonna get married?” Ty’s question comes out slurred from being heavily medicated.

Your eyes go wide while Gator chokes on air, but Ty’s unfazed, moving onto his next thought already.

“Ives, y’think if I bleed on the couch Mama would finally give it to me?”

“No, Ty,” Bea chuckles as she walks in. “Nice try, though.” Ivy’s in stitches while you crack up, too. Even Gator stifles a laugh.

Ty glares at all of you.“What’s a guy gotta do to have a fancy ass couch?”

“Outlive me and see if I put you on the will for the couch, kiddo.”

“Bea!” Miles gasps as he shuffles in from the front door. He’s about to close it behind him when Flor barrels in, flinging the door open again. “Jesus, Flor, run me over, why don’t you?”

Ivy ignores the exchange as she retorts, “Oh, c’mon, Miles, we all have our fair share of dark humor in the house.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting that as soon as I got inside.” He mutters, then side-eyes Flor, “Or get murdered by Flor.”

“It wasn’t intentional! I didn’t wanna miss the gifts!”

Jinx returns, “Flor, shut it.”

“Gifts?” Ty’s brow quirks at Flor; she cringes at the slip of her tongue.

Ignoring the banter, Bea slips into the hallway before returning with a gift basket for Ty. She sets it in front of him on the coffee table, and as he leans over to open the packaging, Ivy dives in front of him, successfully blocking Ty from bending when he shouldn’t.

“Ivy! C’mon, dude!”

After Ivy scolds him for bending when he shouldn’t she helps him open the packaging, rummaging through the contents. The basket’s filled with snacks, including a few edibles, a travel pillow for his neck while he sleeps upright, some necessities for healing from any medical procedure, a few of his favorite movies— “Ty, you would like ‘Fight Club’,” says Miles, ignoring the glare from Ty.

Everyone chipped in for the basket, but there’s a few special gifts left. One’s a box from you; a crocheted mesh top— “Sunshine, this your handiwork?”

“Y’needed somethin’ new for your club nights,” You grin as he holds it up. “No point in top surgery if ya’ can’t spend the rest of your life half naked.”

He chuckles, absolutely whacked from the meds, muttering, “Can’t wait to be a slut in this,” The room erupts into laughter, aside from a happy, quiet grin from him.

Jinx speaks up, handing over a gift certificate for her tattoo parlor; the amount is left blank. “I couldn’t put it in the basket, but whenever you’re ready for that chest tattoo you’ve been wanting forever, you let me know, ‘kay?”

“Wh— Jinx, that’s a lot to—“

“Seeing you happy in your own skin is more important than dollar signs, kid. Just say the word and we’ll get started.”

Ty grows quiet, staring at the basket as tears build in his eyes. He thinks for a moment before speaking, hoping his words don’t come off like they’re fueled from the meds. “Thank you guys… for everything since I got here. I feel like the luckiest guy in all of Brooklyn with the best family in the world.” He rubs his eyes, then laughs a little. “I’d hug y’all if I could, hope it’s okay to rain check those.”

“As soon as you’re fully healed, you’re getting bone crushing hugs again from me, buddy.” You smirk, earning an eye roll from him.

Everyone expresses their love back to him, along with well wishes and speedy recovery. Eventually, one by one, you all filter out, except Gator.

You leave, giving Gator a soft squeeze on his shoulder as silent support before heading back into the kitchen. Again, you can’t help but be nosy, easily able to overhear their conversation.

“Hey, uh, Ty? I’m sorry I didn’t have anythin’ cool for ya’,” Gator’s voice wavers a bit, nervous to break down another barrier with letting new people into his life. “But, uh, not t’be all sappy n’ shit, but if you ever need a friend, or need to talk about guy stuff, or whatever—“ Gator laughs at himself. “—I don’t know how to say it without soundin’ dumb, but don’t be ‘fraid to say somethin’, okay?”

Ty lazily beams at Gator, “If I wasn’t so fucked up right now, I’d have a better response, but that means more than y’know. Thanks, man.”

You watch on while Gator’s smile grows, your heart growing along with it.

·············································

May arrives, and Gator gets his second eye surgery; this time, it’s to implant the structuring for his prosthetic eye. Just like Ty coming home from his surgery, Gator’s welcomed back with well wishes and love from everyone in the house.

Everyone asked Gator in the weeks leading up to the surgery if he needed or wanted anything to make his recovery process a little easier, but he kept insisting he didn’t need anything.

One day, you asked him why he kept turning everyone’s help down, but he just shrugged and said, “I got a safe place to recover, with you and everyone else. I got everythin’ I need, darlin’.”

While his answer was heartwarming, you were determined to do more, getting everyone to brainstorm an idea to chip in on.

After another monthly family dinner, you slide a card over on the table to Gator. His brows furrowed.

“What’s this?”

“Won’t know ‘til ya’ open it, now will ya’?” So, he does.

Gator looked down at the comically large ‘get well soon’ card, face bright as he read over everyone’s personal well wishes added into the card. Inside was a plain envelope, to which, again, he reminded the group he didn’t need anything.

“We still wanted to do something nice,” Bea spoke up at the other opposite end of the table. “You deserve it.”

Hesitantly, he opened the envelope, and with one glance inside, his eye widened, brows flying up in shock.

“What— I don’t understand,” Gator looked around at everyone, baffled.

“Sunshine here mentioned how crazy fucking expensive just the surgery alone was,” Miles clarified as he nodded to you. “We thought maybe this would help ease up on the amount you need for your new eye.”

Gator’s face dropped, completely caught off guard by the generous gesture. He looked down into the envelope again, finding cash and checks; he knew he should accept the gift, but immediately he felt guilty at the thought.

“Y’guys didn’t have t’do anythin’,” He murmured as everyone sat together in the dining room. His uncovered eye was glassy with emotions ready to spill over, while the other side is covered with a new eye patch for the healing process. “This is… really kind of y’all, but I- I can’t take all’a this.”

Then, he looked to you while your hand was in his. “Y’didn’t have to make everyone—“

“I didn’t make anyone do anythin’. It was Ty’s idea,” You smiled over at Ty.

Gator looked over his way, “Dude, this is- it’s really kind of y’all, but you didn’t—“

“We didn’t have to. We know. We wanted to.” Ty simply answered.

“I- I don’t get why, though. I definitely don’t deserve this.”

“You do, though. You deserve to be cared about,” Ivy chimed in. “Because that’s what family does. We take care of one another.”

The dam breaks, but not before he held the card over his face in one hand, one that shook as he began to cry. Really cry. You only got to see this side of him; Gator was always so careful to never let his walls down with anyone, because he hated the way his father treated him when he did. It was drilled into his head since he was a kid that ‘men don’t cry’, so he just… didn’t.

It wasn’t until you came back in his life and reassured him constantly it’s healthy and normal to cry shit out. It’s normal to get emotional during the bad, and the good. It’s only human nature, and he shouldn’t be shamed for what’s just basic instinct.

You squeezed his hand to give some comfort, while Ty couldn’t help speaking up.

“You better pick the coolest, fanciest fake eye in the world, man.” His lighthearted comment pulls a laugh out of Gator through his tears; you’re grateful for the comedic relief, watching Gator relax as he continued laughing.

“Okay, kid, only if ya’ help me find one.”

“Deal.”

The rest of the night was spent at the table, catching up with one another while Gator continued to thank everyone, still in absolute shock. It’s all he could talk about when Bea asked her monthly question of what everyone was grateful for, but it wasn’t the only thing.

“M’grateful that y’all have been so kind. I ain’t the best with words, but y’all have shown me more love than my own family ever did—“ He paused, glancing over to you; again, to reassure him, you squeezed his hand and shot a warm smile. “— thanks, y’all… for givin’ me time t’figure things out, and makin’ room for me in this family.”

Bea patted her tears away with a napkin before leaving her chair to come over to Gator. “Get up, kid, you’re not making me cry without a hug.”

As Gator hugged her, you glanced around the table at everyone, mouthing a ‘thank you’.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house that night.

·············································

It’s an incredibly warm evening for mid-May; Miles, being the movie enthusiast he is, suggests breaking out the projector for a movie night on the rooftop.

Except no one can decide on what to watch.

You all bounce ideas around while lazing around the living room; if Ivy wasn’t working right now, she’d totally back your movie choices.

Doesn’t help that Ty’s napping, so whatever you all choose, both him and Ivy will have to deal with it.

“What if ya’ did a game night instead?” Gator’s sitting on the couch while you lay back against the couch’s arm, legs hanging over his.

You look up at Gator, eyes wide while you shake your head, “No, bad idea—“

“Oh, that could be cool!” Flor is giddy with excitement, kicking her feet from her spot on the ottoman. It doesn’t take much to amuse her, honestly. “Sunshine, you still got Mario Kart, right?”

“Well, yeah, but we probably shouldn’t p—“

“We got all those extra Switch controllers too, pretty sure it’s up to 4 player.” Miles grins, movie night a long forgotten idea. “Too bad no one else has a Switch, ‘cause we could’ve linked ‘em up for everyone to play at once.”

“Four players is more than enough, don’t push it,” You grumble as you sink in your seat with a sigh. “Fuckin’ hell, someone’s gonna end up bein’ thrown off the roof.”

“What? C’mon, it’ll be fun. Don’t be a brat ‘bout it.” Your face feels hot; it’s meant to be innocent, but Gator realizes what he said before he smirks at you. You frown while you pinch his side. “Hey—“

“Fine, we’ll do that instead, but if anyone ends up with their feelings hurt, don’t get mad at me.”

“C’mon, Sunshine, we’re all adults here,” Jinx snickers. “Clearly, Gator knows how to have fun more than you do. We might have to revoke your nickname and give it to him.”

You throw your head back on the armrest, groaning in frustration “First my cat, now my friends, what else ya’ stealin’ from me, Gator?”

He grins down at you, “A kiss?”

“Y’all are too sappy for me, I’m out,” Jinx leaves, while Miles cringes, following Jinx.

Flor hangs back for a moment, only to tease, “So, when’s the wedding?”

“Oh my god,” You cover your face in your hands while you feel Gator tense up under you. “Flor, consider your ass kicked in Mario Kart later.”

“You’re terrible at it. Gator told me. I thought I saw the worst but you’re bad bad at it. So, good luck with that, Sunshine.”

As she leaves with a shrug and a smug look, Gator softly laughs. “Would marryin’ me really be that bad?”

Your hands drop to lock eyes with his. “No, god, no, I- that’s just— don’t you think it’s kinda early—“

His smile doesn’t falter while he holds your hands in his. “I’m only teasin’, promise. I know that ain’t your thing, anyway.” It’s a sliver, a hairline, but the hint of sadness still hangs in his words. He changes the subject anyway, “We should grab stuff for later, you wanna come with?”

You nod with a slight smile, unable to take your mind off of his reaction.

Marriage really was never appealing to you, not with anyone. Still isn’t.

… Or, at least you thought.

————

Everything’s set up on the rooftop; there’s inflatable chairs, an air mattress, bean bags— basically anything soft is scattered about the roof for everyone to get comfy. There’s two coolers of drinks, one for alcohol, one for non, while pizzas and snacks are scattered around a low table in the middle of you all.

The projector shows the home screen of your Switch, ready to start up Mario Kart, while everyone decides on who’s going first. The conversation, naturally, gets sidetracked with ease; you bring the heated debate over to the rest of the group.

“Okay, fine, we’re settling this once and for all.” You make your way to the air mattress, some kind of cider in hand, kicking off the controversial question with your best friend. “Ives, pop or soda?”

“What th— is this a trick question? Soda, obviously.”

Gator’s not far behind, sitting next to you on the air mattress, cracking open his go-to, shitty beer of choice. “Ivy—“

“Don’t even try, Gator. I was born and raised on the East Coast. It’s soda.”

“So much for our growin’ friendship, damn.”

“You asked the wrong person. Sunshine’s my best friend, what’d you expect?”

“Fine,” Gator huffs. He glances over at Ty, who’s sprawled out across a long bean bag. “Hey, Ty, ya’ got my back on this one, right?”

“I can’t have this conversation again,” Ty instantly starts laughing with a shake of his head. “Sorry, man, it’s definitely soda.”

“For the love of—“ Gator turns to Miles, next to him on a beach chair, “Aren’t you from the Midwest too?”

Miles shoots an apologetic smile, “Tennessee ain’t the Midwest. The South just calls it coke.”

You’re confused, “Like… all soda?”

“Pop—“

“Gator, no.”

“Yeah, not sure who decided on that, but I hate it,” Miles laughs with a shrug.

“See, that makes no sense. What do ya’ do when you want a root beer?” Gator’s perplexed by this, and honestly, the whole group is.

“It’s like…” Miles glances at the pizza boxes on the table, “If someone asked what kinda’ pizza you want.”

“So it’s just assumed everyone wants soda—“

“Pop—“

“Gator, I dare you to go to the bodega down the block and ask for a pop,” Jinx snickers, and of course, unable to turn down any challenge, Gator sets his drink down before starting to get up. You tug him back down by the hem of his shirt.

“She’s— don’t actually do that.” You stifle a laugh. “I mean, ya’ can, but you’re gonna be clocked as a tourist instead.”

“I’d rather be a tourist than seriously call somethin’ water ice. The fuck is that?”

“You take that back!”

“Ivy, that’s a Philly thing,” Flor pipes up among her giggles.

“And Jersey!”

“And we’re… where, Ivy?”

“Miles, you used to think the state of New York was only the city. Don’t even try me.”

“Okay, but Ives, Gator’s got a point, what the hell is a ‘water ice’? It’s one or the other, for fucks’ sake.”

“What do y’want it to be called? Italian ice?” Ivy’s sass is skyrocketing tonight.

“Considering that’s the name…yeah.” Ty counters.

“Get the fuck outta here,” Ivy continues to passionately defend her stance. “‘Besides, some of youse’ call heroes hoagies when that just ain’t it.”

“What… what the fuck are either of those?” Gator has long forgotten the soda vs. pop debate by now.

“Oh, like, a sub?” Miles asks. “Submarine sandwich?”

You pipe up, “Hoagies are a Philly thing too!”

“To be fair…” Jinx swoops in with further hoagie defense. “That’s what Wawa calls them, too, and they’re in Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware, Virginia—“

“Jinx, c’mon!”

“— D.C. and Florida.” She finishes with a petty smile to Ivy. Then, she redirects the energy to Gator and Miles, “By the way, it’s soda.”

Gator rolls his eyes and Miles scoffs, “Jinx! You’re from Florida! Traitor.”

“Calling it coke just adds an extra step!” Jinx retorts, hands thrown up above her.

“This was an awful conversation to bring up before playing,” Ivy mutters, taking a swig of her drink.

“Oh, it’s definitely soda.”

Everyone turns to Bea, hanging out in the door of the stairwell with her partner, Opal; she shrugs her shoulders lazily with a knowing smile.

“I second that,” Opal chimes in with a grin as the two of them join the group. Before Bea sits down, she glances over at Gator.

“Hey, Gator, can I talk with you for a sec?” He nods, pushing off the mattress.

Your eyes grow wide, worried something bad happened, but Bea senses your mood shift. She leans down to mutter, “Nothin’ bad, I promise, kid.” You exhale with a nod.

They wander to the farthest side of the roof to talk; Bea faces towards the rest of the city, while Gator’s hands are in his pockets as he looks at the ground. He’s smiling, but it’s like earlier, with a tinge of sadness.

For only a second longer you look, not wanting invade their privacy, but you catch the way Bea pulls Gator into a comforting hug after he wipes his eyes.

What’s that about?

“Sunshine, you still wanna race?” Flor smugly asks, leading your attention back to your friends. You grab a controller, moving to a seat closer to the screen.

“Eat my dust, Flor.”

·············································

You lost. Again.

Flor won, so you challenged her again. You lost. So you go another round. She wins again, you call a rematch. Before you know it, Gator’s sitting behind you after finishing his talk with Bea. He watches as you lose, grumbling under your breath, something about “She’s gotta be cheating”.

Leaning forward, Gator softly says in your ear, “Darlin’, ya’ gotta learn when to quit.”

“I didn’t win yet!” You whine, eyes still glued to the screen. You’re tipsy after another drink, surprisingly more intoxicated than Gator.

Ivy plucks the controller from your hands, “Don’t worry, Sunshine, m’gonna protect your honor.”

“What honor?” Ty snickers, situating himself in front of the screen to play.

Gator notices your pout, then the one controller that’s left. He grabs it off the table before leaning over to grab your head, kissing your temple quickly before murmuring, “Gonna win for ya’, angel.”

His words still make your stomach flutter, despite the silliness.

“Aw, Flor, I hate Rainbow Road!” Ty shouts, and you snicker.

“That’s karma for ya’, short king.” Ivy laughs, shoving her shoulder into his.

Gator adds, “Too bad, kid, ‘cause I fuckin’ love Rainbow Road.”

“You’re sick, Gator,” Ty reels back at his words. “Absolutely sick.”

“Nah, Ty, I’m a winner.” Your eyes roll automatically, but you can’t help but laugh.

You watch everyone with a smile on your face, resting back on the mattress and hill of pillows. Gator looks so comfortable in this new life, and after all of the turmoil he had endured, it’s such a relief to see him happy. Happy, and safe.

In fact, your holiday plans not working out— snow trapping you together for days, both of you up standing up to your abusive fathers, the terror that followed while Gator stayed behind— it was all worth it to get him somewhere safer. Worth it to see him grow into a better version of himself, a better version for both everyone around and himself, especially. Worth it to watch him grow into a found family that treats him how he should’ve been treated by his own blood.

It was all worth it to see Gator Tillman happy.

You don’t regret going home last Christmas. Not at all.

·············································

It’s late, and the sun’s long set behind Manhattan’s skyline across the East River; after a few rounds of Gator winning for you— and one from Ivy— the rest of them take turns challenging one another while Gator makes his way back to you.

At some point, you slipped back inside to grab a hoodie— the same one of Gator’s you always wear; he smirks as you reach out, arms snaking around him as he lays with you. Your eyes are heavy but your smile doesn’t falter.

“Still stealin’ that from me?”

“Smells like you,” You murmur sleepily. “Plus, you’ve stolen a lot more from me since getting here. You’ll live without one hoodie.”

“Yeah, guess that’s fair.” He laughs softly, “And why’s it matter if it smells like me? We live together now. M’here all the time.”

“Not when you’re floorin’ it on Rainbow Road. Who knows when you’d come back to me.” You feign a dramatic sniffle.

“I was playin’ Mario Kart, not off in a war.”

“Same thing, honestly. And ya’ won for me? My hero.”

You lazily tug the blanket over the both of you. It barely covers Gator, but he appreciates the gesture anyway.

“Should probably get ya’ back in bed,” He lays on his back, pulling you into his side. You rest your head on his chest, taking in the thump, thump, thump of his heart against your ear.

“Why? Racing got ya’ all horny?” You’re teasing with your brows wiggling, but the alcohol in your system has you worked up a little.

“Oh, for fucks’ sa—“ Gator rolls his eyes, ignoring the twitch in his dick. “No, just don’t want ya’ fallin’ asleep up here.”

“‘Member what we did last time we were on an air mattress?” You giggle before Gator’s hand slips over your mouth.

“Zip it.”

“You zip it.”

“What? You want everyone to know how much of a slut you are, don’t ya’?” He whispers, just low enough for you to hear. “Want me to fuck ya’ out here where anyone can watch?”

Gator can feel your smirk under his hand, eyes growing dark. It was all lighthearted joking, but now that your hand has slipped under the blanket, ghosting over his bulge, he wants to fuck that bratty smirk off your face.

Pulling his hand away, you murmur, “Don’t act like you wouldn’t like it.”

He’s even more wound up looking at the face you give him, all pouty, eyes heavy from a combination of sleepiness, desire, and alcohol. “I miss when you’d be mean t’me.” You grab him, it’s gentle, but enough to make Gator buck into your hand.

It’s taking everything within Gator not to moan, but a soft, sighed,“Fuck,” escapes him.

“Me?”

Thankfully, the noises of the game, your friends shouting, and the city surrounding you, drowning the two of you out.

“Yeah, I need to get ya’ inside.”

“Need you inside me.” You giggle.

He sighs, but with a smile. “Behave for like, ten seconds.”

As Gator pulls you up along with him, he positions you in front of him, just enough to cover his strained hard-on under his pants. “Sunshine’s fallin’ asleep, so I think we’re gonna head in.”

Everyone says their goodnights, distracted by the game, much to Gator’s relief. In record time, he manages to lead you down the stairs safely, thankful the stairwell’s door is right next to your apartment door.

He holds you upright by your waist, arm wrapped firmly around you. Once the door’s closed, he shoves you against it, cock twitching as you gasp.

“How mean?”

“Like the first night we fucked,” You whine as his thigh slips between your legs, giving you something to grind against. One hand grabs both of yours, holding them up and against the door by the wrists.

“Huh, don’t remember bein’ too mean that night.”

“Well, fine. Be meaner.”

“What, you want me t’cuff ya’? Call ya’ awful, filthy things? Make ya’ cry when ya’ cum?”

“Uh-huh,” You breathe, eyes glazed over, intoxicated. Gator’s buzzed, too, but definitely not as pliant as you, influenced by sleep and the few drinks from earlier.

“Wanna play with your toys?”

“And you.”

“And me?” His leg tenses underneath you, making you keen and shudder. “Think you deserve that?”

“Mhmm,” You struggle against the grip he has around your wrists. “Upstairs.”

“Oh, you tellin’ me what to do now?”

“Yeah, and if ya’ won’t listen, I’ll go back outside,” Your threat isn’t even a threat. Gator laughs as the other hand runs along your curves.

“Never seen ya’ in tiny, tight shorts like these,” His fingers dip just behind the button of your ripped denim shorts. You whimper when he stops, not reaching where you want him. “Last time I saw ya’ in warm weather, you weren’t allowed to wear clothes like these. Got no idea how hard it’s been watchin’ ya’ walk around all day like this.”

“Gator…”

His hand slips further, but not by much. His fingers rest just above the top of your slit; you’re glad his leg is giving you some kind of friction, but you’d rather his hands toy with you instead.

“Thought y’were such a babe even in all that modest clothing bullshit when we were younger... But Jesus Christ, darlin’, might have to move home if you’ll be ‘round me like this all the time.”

A whine slips from you as you struggle in his grip again. “No, home’s here, with me.” The hold he has on your wrists releases.

“You’re right, I’d miss your sweet cunt too much,” He unbuttons your shorts before pulling them down roughly as he sinks to the floor. Eyes unable to leave your clothed core, fabric sticking with your own arousal, he taunts, “Always so soaked, poor thing.”

Shoving your legs farther apart, he holds you against the door, strong, large hands pinning you by your thighs. He presses a kiss to your heat, making your breath hitch.

“You’re right, I couldn’t leave, ‘cause who would clean ya’ up when you’re a wet, pathetic mess like this?” His kisses become more open mouthed, with a faint caress of his tongue against you. It only makes you squirm more. “Go ‘head, tell me.”

Your hands wander down, fingers weaving through his hair; he hardly pushes it back these days, or at least, with not as much gel. Makes it easier to tug at when you’re crying out his name.

“Y- you, Gator.”

A distant echo of voices travel down the stairs from the roof, and your eyes go wide, trying to calm your breaths while Gator flashes his signature smirk up at you.

“No, wait, we should—“ The commotion gets closer as footsteps grow louder. Having your door right next to the rooftop door hasn’t been a problem, ever, in your ten years of living here.

Not until now.

In a swift motion, Gator slides your panties down, mouth on your centre immediately; at the same time, the door next to yours creaks open, conversations carrying on. There’s a goodnight yelled from someone directly on the other side of the door; you’re unable to tell whose voice it was, focused on keeping your moans suppressed while Gator sucks on your clit roughly

He digs his fingers into your thighs, glaring a silent command up at you.

“G- goodnight!” It comes out so strained as a finger slips into you, hips instinctively rolling onto his hand.

“Hey, you good in there?” You still can’t tell whose voice that belongs to, too busy panicking on how to respond while Gator continues to ruin you on just his tongue and one finger alone.

“M’good! All good!”

“Okay, just checking. G’night!”

As the voices and footsteps fade out, Gator stands and grabs your face, fingers squishing into your cheeks. His other hand still holds a finger inside of you, barely moving, driving you mad. “Do any of ‘em know how filthy their lil’ Sunshine is?”

You shrug, eyes on his lips glistening with your slick and his spit flowing together. “I- I mean, not really… but Ivy totally does after the day she heard us.”

Gator can’t help laughing, “I’m so glad the vent’s fixed… we can be loud, yeah?” His finger starts slowly pumping in and out of you. “Need to hear those pretty noises you make when you’re goin’ dumb on my cock.”

“Uh-huh,” You’re about to let your eyes flutter shut when he pulls his hand away, leaving you empty with an intoxicated pout; he drags you away from the door and towards the stairs.

“Good, ‘cause I plan on playin’ with ya’ all night.”

·············································

June rolls along, and like the year prior, you always seem to forget the city has a stagnant, dense heat within its grid of endless buildings. Even on the windiest of summer days, that heat lingers, makes you feel like you’re practically swimming in it.

Today, though, is just perfect. The last of the spring breeze helps cool down the hot, almost summer day while the sun continued to brighten the city.

You take a big gulp from the mug of fresh, iced coffee Gator made you, pulling your legs to your chest as you watch your housemates make their own breakfasts, along with a variety of drinks. The banana pancakes you made were a hit, but you ran out of mix quickly, underestimating just how much everyone liked pancakes.

“Thanks, love.” You warmly smile at Gator, voice laced with a leftover rasp from sleep. Drinking his tea, he returns the warmth back to you in his signature smirk, a sight you could never grow tired of. “It’s crazy we all have the mornin’ off, for once. When the hell did that happen last?”

“About two years ago!” Ivy pipes up from across the table as she settles into her chair.

“Well, good thing I made pancakes the one time y’all are all here.” You giggle, looking out the bay window, admiring the way the shadows projected into the house from the giant blooming tree outside, and the sun peeking through it.

“Ya’ say that like we’ve never demolished a buncha’ pancakes on our own before,” Gator snickers, recalling the morning he made some while the two of you were snowed in. You remember being in such shock he could be … domestic. What was probably nothing to him only solidified how you really felt for him. A soft, sweet morning together was something you never expected in a million years.

Now, you’re home, with Gator by your side; part of a family neither of you had growing up, but had the compassion and kindness the two of you always needed and deserved.

“Yeah, I believe it.” Ty glares at you, still mad he woke up too late to grab pancakes in time. “You and Ivy both are demons when you get the munchies.” Bea snorts from the kitchen, earning a smile from Ty.

“Man, it wasn’t me! I had, like, one! And I made them.” You defend yourself, laughing as you put your hands up. “Besides, I’m sober as hell right now. Can’t speak for dear Ives over there, though.”

Ivy, too stoned to care, just shrugs with a giggle, eyes crinkling and hiding how damn red they were. “It’s my first morning off in weeks. Let me live!”

Conversation continues from there between everyone, with teasing banter and laughter, sharing jokes and catching up; a bonus from your monthly family dinner, or rare rooftop nights, this morning was a real treat for you.

The sunshine pouring in from the window spilled across your shoulders, exposed from the slouchy cardigan you slept in with a sleep tank underneath. You could see the little, floating fuzzies dance in the sunlight, sipping on your coffee as you let yourself fade to the background, watching everyone just… exist. Something all of you at one point didn’t have the privilege of doing. No abuse, no going hungry, no anxiety or fear of the unknown, just existing peacefully among one another.

All lives that were all once thought to be at the end of the thread, hope nearly given up. Lives, filled with struggles no human should endure. Lives, while independent, now intertwined in a way where not one of you could fail. No one would ever be left behind. You all had a place to rest your head at night, a place where there was always a shoulder to cry on, advice to give and receive, with an endless amount of safety and love.

Not a day went by where you didn’t wish Willow could experience this, too. You knew, though, she was looking over you, probably relieved you made your way into this group of misfits, who had similar dynamics with you the way she once had. Something familiar. Something that felt like home.

Best of it all, to you, was being able to encourage Gator to take such a huge leap outside of his comfort zone. To leave everything and everyone behind that has harmed him, to start fresh and grow into someone he wanted to be, rather than what his father forced him to be.

Gator always had the potential to be so much more than the violence, toxic masculinity, and hatred Roy tried burying him under. He just needed someone to see that and remind him it’s never too late to change for the better.

“Oh, dude, gross.” Miles groaned from a few chairs down, watching as you subconsciously chewed on the half melted ice cubes in your nearly finished coffee. “I forgot you love doing that.”

You spit the ice into the mug as gracefully as possible, shooting an apologetic look. “My bad.”

“No, she’s onto something. That shit is refreshing as hell on a hot day.” Flor points out, imitating you with her own iced coffee, crunching on the frozen water. Miles looks like he’s about to lose his marbles, letting his head hit the table in defeat as Ivy also joins in. All three of you end up in a fit of giggles.

“Surprised you haven’t chugged that yet, what’s with you today?” Ty teases, leaving you to knit your brows together in confusion.

“Huh? Can’t a bitch enjoy their coffee at a leisurely pace?” You joke back.

“Today of all days…” Jinx murmurs into her matcha tea latte. Gator narrows his eyes at her while Miles forces out a short hissed, “Shut it!”

What’s that about?

Every now and then, you’d catch Gator staring at you fondly, and it’s not like it was out of the ordinary, but it felt like he was waiting for something. You just weren’t sure what.

Under the chaotic breakfast chatter, you ask him softly, “You doin’ alright?” Gator slipped his hand in yours under the table, squeezing gently.

“Yeah, darlin’, I’m alright.” He answers casually, but his sweaty palm tells another story. “How about you?”

“I’m good,” You answer honestly, but ask with a smirk, “Why’s your hand so clammy?”

“I- no reason. Might’ve had too much caffeine. Y’know how that goes.” Gator’s quick to pull his hand back and answer, but it doesn’t conceal his nervous tone.

You fly into panic mode, “What? Honey, you can’t have caffeine anymore, why did you—“

“Right! Right, I- I didn’t. I dunno why I said that—“

“Is your eye okay? You don’t feel any pressure, do you?”

Gator shakes his head frantically, “I swear, I didn’t have any. I- it’s still a habit to blame everythin’ on caffeine still, I guess.”

Jinx runs her hand over her face at the terrible save, for lack of a better word.

“It’s because he— hey!” Ty slaps his hand over Ivy’s mouth, muffling the rest of her unfiltered interruption.

“Is something going on that I should know about?” You ask, brow quirked up as you study everyone’s faces. They’re all frozen, like deer in headlights, side eyeing one another, or shrugging.

You peer over at Gator through narrowed eyes, and he grins weakly with a shaky shrug. “Uh-huh… better not be some fucked up prank. Anyway, it’s so nice out! Do y’all wanna do anything today?”

You pick up your plate and mug, intending to head to the dishwasher, but Gator tugs the back of your shirt softly. You face him, “What’s up?”

“I- you— you don’t want any more coffee?”

Again, Miles groans, this time at Gator’s graceless attempt to stall, while Flor shushes him, and Ty’s shooting the two of them a death glare.

“Y’all didn’t spike this, did you?” You’re joking, but you’re also nervous from the way they’re all acting, with hushed whispers and cryptic, warning glances to one another. Bea whistles comically to play innocent, as she leans against the kitchen counter, eyes everywhere but you.

“Guys, she’s not gonna get it.” Ivy chimes in, and no one disrupts her this time; brushing her hands together, freeing her fingers from bagel crumbs, she points back to your empty chair. “Take a seat, sunshine.”

Now you’re really nervous, but you do as she says, and sit back in the chair next to Gator.

“What am I not gonna get?”

“Gator, just show her— ”

“This is definitely not going the way I planned,” He murmurs, shaking his head in defeat before resting it in his hand, elbow propped up from the table.

“Can someone just fill me in on what’s going on?” You glower as you gaze around the table at everyone again.

Flor stiffens both her hands as her elbows rest on the table, aggressively throwing them your way. “The mug! Look in the damn mug already!” She shouts impatiently.

You do, but all you see is the ice left from your finished coffee that you didn’t chew, much to Miles’ relief, you were certain.

“… Ice? Guys, I don’t understand.” You’re just sinking into bewilderment the more they murmur so cryptically around you.

Gator silently takes the mug, spilling the ice onto your empty plate. placing the mug in front of you again before he nervously bites on his thumbnail as his leg bounces rapidly. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him like this. Searching his gaze, all you see is nervous, nervous, nervous, written all over his face; hidden by the hand near his face, he pauses the anxious nail biting, quietly mouthing, “I’m sorry”.

Brows scrunched together, you finally glance into the cup, reading the two words intentionally stamped into the ceramic bottom. The room falls silent as your jaw drops, reading the words once.

Twice.

Three times.

You gaze at them in disbelief.

It’s a question, one you never once cared about being asked by or asking for anyone. Now that it’s a question coming from Gator, though, you care a whole fucking lot.

It’s a tiny phrase, a small question in quantity of letters, yet loaded enough to stop time in its tracks.

“Marry me?”

By the time you turn back to Gator, you can see the tears welling up in his uncovered eye, still biting his nail anxiously, but his smirk is ready to burst into a full blown grin.

“You— you’re not kidding, right?” Your voice cracks as you ask, your own lips beginning to curl into a smile, ever so slightly, still being held back by doubt.

“Serious as a heart attack, darlin’.” He finally moves his hand away from his face, gathering all the courage left within him as he kneels down on one knee in front of you. “Don’t got a ring yet, but I’ve got somethin’ else in the meantime.”

Gator pulls from his hoodie pocket the worn, familiar friendship bracelet you made him as kids. The same one he asked you to keep safe when you departed after seven full days being snowed in together, ten days in total with one another, until he came home to you. You gave it back to him as soon as he made it here, and here he is again, offering another promise, offering his heart, to you.

It didn’t matter if it was bound by those fraying threads or by an elegant ring, his heart was completely exposed with the promise and love all the same.

“The longer we spend together, the harder it is to ever imagine life without you, darlin’. It didn’t hit me ‘til the week we were apart, home was with you all along. I want to keep building this new life with ya’, if you’ll have me.”

You’re choking up, trying to nod, at the very least, but you feel so frozen, overwhelmed in so many emotions, all good. All positive. All filled with nothing but love for this man you once were certain you’d never see again.

A thud hits the table as Ivy slams her fist against the table, hissing across the way, “Girl, say something!” It causes everyone to start laughing, breaking the silence.

You try answering with a “yes” and “uh-huh” but it comes out as a “Yuh-huh,” leaving you to snort at yourself, only making Gator’s grin grow as he waits patiently for your answer. “Yes. Yeah. Absolutely. You wanna get married tomorrow? Today? Let’s do it today.” The rambling, for once, isn’t from nervousness, it’s from pure joy and excitement as you slide off the chair and onto the floor, throwing your arms around Gator.

“Finally!” Mama Bea shouts jovially; the room erupts into cheering and clapping, sounds much louder than they should be considering the small source.

“I’m so sorry I only like iced coffee,” You blubber through happy tears, watching as Gator laughs as he ties the bracelet around your left wrist. Just like last time, it’s not too tight, but not loose enough to slide off, almost symbolic of this relationship; close enough to one another that the two of you feel safe, secure, loved, but not so tight where either of you suffocate one another. It’s just right.

Through it all— good and bad— with Gator, it’s always been just right.

“Kinda makes sense it wouldn’t turn out the way it was planned… pretty on point for us, huh?” Gator murmurs, one hand on each side of your face, holding you close as your foreheads rest against one another. “I love you.”

You kiss him, and it’s soft, but kind of haphazard with the way you accidentally bump his eye patch with your nose, making him laugh into the kiss; for once, he’s not the clumsy one. The sunshine falling through the window lands on the two of you, warming the embrace you have one another in. Pulling back, you’re grinning, elated, while you take a thumb to swipe away a tear falling down his face.

“No one ever let me get stoned before a proposal ever again,” Ivy grumbles, sinking into her chair, relieved. “That was stressful.”

“That was stressful, even sober,” Jinx deadpans, but shoots a smile at the two of you.

“Wait, I gotta get my bracelet for you, then.” You scramble to your feet, tugging Gator’s arm to get him up from the floor, too. Rushing for the stairs, Bea reaches for your shoulder, stopping you.

“One condition,” She warns, and you give her your full attention. “No eloping. Someone’s gotta walk y’down the aisle, kid. It ain’t gonna be anyone outside this house, that’s for damn sure.”

Weepy, you pull her into a bear hug, murmuring, “You got it, Mama. Promise.” You pull back, giving her hands a squeeze before heading for the stairs, pulling Gator by the arm to follow you.

“Yeah, get the bracelet, uh-huh.” Flor teases, and Jinx giggles with her. Meanwhile, Ivy still has no filter, yelling, “Get a room, freaks!”

Ty, confused, chimes in, “They have one— ”

“That’s the joke, my precious, short king.”

Their chatter falls away as you and Gator make your way up the stairs, laughing as joy courses through your veins, stumbling on some stairs as the two of you pepper each other’s faces in sweet, short kisses.

Reaching the apartment door, you throw it open, Ivy style, grateful for the foam landing pad the doorknob has; you yank Gator in before slamming the door behind the two of you.

There’s no intention of coming out anytime soon once you flick the lock.

·············································

Any and all plans for the day are lost to the excitement of Gator proposing to you. Time is easily lost on the both of you as you ended up fucking on nearly every surface in the apartment.

Eventually, you adventure up to the rooftop, soaking in the afterglow of sex and the colorful sunset; your brain is fuzzy from the countless orgasms he gave you. “M’glad I’m not workin’ tomorrow. Pretty sure ya’ broke my back.”

“Yeah, well, my dick’s probably outta order for the next week, so thanks.” As Gator stands behind you, watching the sky paint itself into bold oranges, purples, and pinks, he teases you; his arms are around your waist while his lips are back on your neck, making you giggle, overstimulated.

“Hey, no—“ A soft sigh escapes you while your eyes flutter shut.

“Why not? Won’t kill ya’ if you cum one more time.”

“It might, and then what? Can’t get married to me if I die.” You squirm and laugh as his lips tickle your skin, but he stops abruptly before pulling back. You spin around to look at him. “Hey, you okay?”

Gator’s smile is lovesick and filled with joy, “More than okay, darlin’. Just thinkin’ how lucky I am that my best friend said yes.”

“Are you gonna make me cry again? I ain’t—“

He cuts you off with a soft kiss, only pulling back enough to ask, “Y’gonna let me take care of ya’? Not sure if I can give ya’ the world, but I’m gonna try my damndest.”

“Only if you let me do the same in return.”

He sighs with a smirk and an eye roll. “Yeah, I guess, not like I deserve that much.” Your hands meet his face, holding him softly, butterflies still going wild as you watch him blush under your touch.

“Gator Tillman, you deserve the entire fucking universe.” He tries scoffing it off lightheartedly, but you shake your head, gaze locked with his.

Even with his remaining eye slightly clouded over with a scar, a sign of the darkest moment of his life, there’s so much light behind it all, reflecting in the golden brown flecks among the soothing green. His soul is brighter than he lets himself believe, and if he can’t see it, you’ll do your best to be his mirror, to show him in return how good of a person he truly is.

“I’ll spend the rest of this life trying my best to give that to you. I mean it.”

Gator’s bottom lip pouts out, just a little, before he catches himself and holds it back. His tears, though, are too fast for him to catch; he ducks his head into the crook of your neck, giving a soft kiss in the curve as he shudders off future tears.

“Will you stop being such a sap?”

“For you? Never.”

“Damn, wedding’s off, then.” He teases through a sniffle.

Though you laugh, you warn, “Don’t joke like that, I’ll start asking if you still love me up until the wedding day.”

“What, are ya’ gonna say that in your vows?” He laughs, lightly teasing you as you playfully shove his shoulder.

“Maybe, put ya’ on the spot in front of everyone,” You shoot back, grinning up at him. “I love you too much to be a dick like that.”

“I love ya’, too, darlin’. Even if you’re being a dick like that.”

While you laugh again, his gaze doesn’t leave yours; he marvels at the way the vibrant colors reflect in your eyes, and the way they paint over your entire being, drowning you in sunshine of the day’s end.

You’ve always been Gator’s sunshine in his grim, overcast life; his future always was brighter with you by his side, and he’ll do anything to make sure his sunshine’s never taken away, never ever again.

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman smut #gator tillman #tramps like us #part time soulmate full time problem #my fics

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