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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 6 months ago

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Runaway

Part II - Sacrificial Lamb

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Summary: Hold onto the good times, for they never last. A glimpse into the first half of your life and how you came to live at the Tillman ranch. You thought Roy Tillman was your savior, until the dreaded truth comes to light, leaning heavily on Gator as you both try to navigate young adulthood.

CW: This has elements of canon storyline. Heavy content and mature themes. Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Sunshine" and other pet names. Mentions of drug and alcohol use. Reader has a bad home life. Roy Tillman (a cw on his own). Depictions of domestic abuse. Reader is slapped - mentions of bruises. Fighting. Young love. Allusions to underage consensual sex (not explicit). Angst. Trauma bonding. Hurt no comfort. Let me know if I missed anything!

18+ Only! Minors DNI! Heed the warnings!

WC: 12.4K

Lehigh, North Dakota Early Spring 2007

For most kids, sixteen can be a tumultuous time in their lives to begin with but it seemed life had dealt you the losing hand at every turn.

From the moment you drew your first breath, you were doomed by the narrative. Born to drug addict parents moving from place to place or town to town, the only viable options for two people trying to avoid jail time or bad debts, simply dragging you around with them. It was a wonder the two halfwits managed to keep you alive those first few years.

They were smart enough to know they had to settle down before you started Kindergarten and ended up in the middle of Nowhere, North Dakota. They inherited a place from your grandmother who had passed away a few months prior, a single wide trailer that you got to call home for the better part of your childhood. It was a two-bedroom shack barely suitable for one person, let alone three. They grew pot out of the back bedroom, leaving you to sleep on a cot shoved into the corner of the living room.

School became your happy place, a solace from the reality of home. You flourished, despite your odds and loved to read. Books were an escape from reality. Late at night, you hid under the covers with a flashlight reading about princes and faraway kingdoms or of magic beyond your understanding. All manner of fantasy that you wished in some way could be true. You dreamt of your own adventures that would someday lead you miles away from here.

Both your parents had garnered the attention of the local authorities a month after your birthday. The county seized the property due to back taxes and your father took the fall for all the weed landing him a one-way ticket to federal prison. Somehow, they still let your mom keep custody despite her obvious involvement, coupled with the fact that the two of you had nowhere to live.

The two of you lived in and out of dumpy motels in the seedier parts of Lehigh until the day you were caught stealing from the local market where they detained you and called the Sheriff's department.

“Where’s your mom?” Roy Tillman asked with a sigh, looking down at you sitting there in the manager's office of the Piggly Wiggly. He sighed, taking the wide brimmed cowboy hat from his head, laying it on the desk beside him. The local sheriff had more than his fair share of run-ins with your family. He knew your past and your parents all too well.

You shrug instead of answering, pulling at a loose thread at the bottom of your very worn and dirty shirt. One of five you kept on rotation, the rest packed into the backpack on the floor beside you.

You hadn’t seen her in three days after she pawned off the only thing of value that you had left, a gold ring that she had given you a few years prior. It was the last straw, you knew right then and there she didn’t and would never care about you the way a mother should. She was nothing more than a junkie looking for her next fix.

He bent down to your level, fixing you with a sympathetic yet authoritative gaze that made you swallow the lump in your throat when your eyes met his as he asked you again. His presence made you feel uneasy at first, but he was taking his time to talk with you instead of speaking down to you like everyone else had.

“I d– don’t know. Haven’t seen her for a few days.” Your voice came out meek, suddenly feeling small under his domineering gaze, looking away from him.

His eyes narrowed, regarding you for a moment. “How old are you?”

“Si– Sixteen.” Your hangnail was suddenly more interesting, averting your attention as you began to pick at it as you answered.

“A pretty girl your age shouldn’t be out on her own.” He muttered more to himself than to you as he stood back up. “Well, come on now. Get up.”

You reluctantly stood, wary footsteps taking you to your resigned fate as the Sheriff walked you out. Your face was on fire from all the knowing gazes around the store. He tipped his hat to the store manager and led you to his blazer, helping you into the passenger side.

Instead of taking you to jail, to your surprise he took pity on you. For a runaway teen with nowhere else to go, he gave you an offer, an opportunity to live with a normal family and to better yourself. It seemed like a dream come true.

The Tillman's had a nice home on a large ranch with plenty of space to thrive and grow. The spare room was set up for you right next to Roy's teenage sons.

You'd seen Gator at school but coming from different sides of town, the two of you had never spoken. He was popular, played football and was far too pretty for his own good, the epitome of an all-American teenage boy. The kind of young man that parents would love to see their daughter date. Yes sir and yes ma'am were ingrained in his vocabulary. He was perfect and you absolutely hated him.

When you arrived, Roy's wife, Nadine immediately made you feel welcome, soon learning she was his second wife and not Gator's mother. She was younger than you imagined but seemed to be an old soul with her soft spoken and kind nature, advice of all manner at the ready if you asked.

It was church every Sunday and family dinners at night. It didn’t go without rules, but it was the structure and routine you so badly needed.

They gave you some new clothes, a warm, soft bed to sleep in and a roof over your head. You had your own room, a private sanctuary all to yourself. When you laid your head down on the feather pillow that night, you hoped that you wouldn't have to leave anytime soon. It was the first time in a long time you felt safe.

Gator completely ignored your presence for the first couple of days, until he couldn't. Roy had told him it was his duty to show you around the ranch and teach you various chores you would be doing, in his words, to “earn your keep.”

“You're still doing it wrong.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he crossed the stall, bootsteps heavy, grabbing the shovel roughly out of your hands. You'd grown accustomed to the frown gracing his handsome features that he most often wore around you, as if it caused him physical pain to be in your presence.

Your hands were beginning to blister, it was hot, and the barn smelled well, like a barn. It was a strong mixture of manure, hay and earth.

“You need to use more force. Here.” He demonstrates again, working across the old barnwood floor. He wore a crisp white shirt that showed off the lean muscle of his arms and shoulders as he moved, tucked into his tight-fitting Wranglers. His green cap was situated backwards, per usual, unless the sun was directly in his face. If you weren’t so annoyed you might have appreciated how good he looked, but in your current state it just infuriated you further.

He stops midway, an exhausted look replacing the frown when he hears your huff, turning his head in time to see your eyes roll, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aren't you just a ray of fuckin' sunshine.” He scoffs, moving the shovel upright resting his hands on the end.

“Think you're too good for shovelin’ horse shit? Hmm? That it?” He spat.

Your brows furrowed at his attempt at an insult, insinuating that he knew anything about your life. Rich, coming from a boy that grew up in a house where he never had to want for anything.

“No asshole, it's your bullshit I can't stand. You think you know anything about me? You don't know shit!” There was a fiery defiance in your eyes as you spoke but there was something else there. Something raw and vulnerable he couldn't quite put his finger on.

His brows furrowed at the sudden outburst; another venomous laced comment was on the tip of his tongue, but he thought better of it at the last second. He knew the heavy hand that ruled the ranch would tan his hide if he didn't show you how to do the rest of the chores, so he sighed and tried a different approach.

“Look, I'm tryin’ to help ya’ out. Roy he… he expects things to be done proper ‘round here. So just… can ya’ at least try?” He finally asks, with an almost pleading look. If only you'd known then, in his own way, he was already trying to warn you.

For the first time, his words seemed genuine, without the usual disdain. Warily, you narrowed your gaze but finally dropped your arms to your sides in a more relaxed, less defensive position.

“Yeah.” You nod, already reaching for the shovel to start again, this time doing it exactly as he had instructed instead of half-assing it just to spite him.

“There ya’ go, Sunshine. Gettin' the hang of it now.” He grins, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. You couldn't help the small smile that lifted the edges of your lips at the little nickname that suddenly didn't seem so condescending.

The rest of the day went much smoother. It seemed you finally had a small understanding while he showed you around the property demonstrating how to complete the other various chores that you and he would be sharing.

His thorny shell melted just a little more, as you began to warm up to him. He even cracked a couple of jokes and tried to make you laugh as the day waned. He could be crude and rough around the edges but there was something else there, a glimpse of his boyish charm in the gentle way he spoke to you.

It was quiet out as the day began to wind down. The sun was setting over the horizon while you finished brushing the horses. You had been chatting about nothing and everything as the last rays fanned out across the barn bathing you both with its warmth. When he looked at you, his hazel eyes caught the light just right, making the usual brown tones burst with greens and golds.

When you stared at him a beat too long, his lips curled with that cocky, crooked grin that made a faint blush warm your cheeks before you quickly looked away and cleared your throat. He huffed a small chuckle but didn’t say anything, keeping that genuine smile, a true rarity you would come to find out in the coming weeks around the Tillman ranch.

Each evening you all sat down to have supper together. Prayers were said before each meal while you all held hands, a family tradition you weren’t accustomed to. Roy was at the head of the table with Nadine to his left and Gator to his right, and you seated next to the aloof boy.

It was the same every time, he begrudgingly took your hand and dropped it as if your touch was searing to his skin. You weren't sure what you had done to offend him so vehemently, especially since the two of you had finally been getting along so well.

The dinner table was where the ugly truth began to seep into this painted reality a mere two weeks after you had come to live with them.

Report cards were just released and Roy asked Gator why his grades were slipping while serving himself another helping of mashed potatoes.

“I don't know, school’s hard sometimes. I—” he began but Roy quickly cut him off.

“Schools hard? That's all you have to say for yourself?” Raising his voice before his hands came down against the table making everyone jump.

“Roy,” Nadine's mild-mannered voice cut in, but he held up his hand to silence her, making her mouth snap shut.

“Dad it's—”

“Gator, school is going to be the easiest thing you ever have to do. Get your grades up. Or. Else.” He pointed a finger at him. “You have the Tillman name to uphold, and you will not make a fool of me. Understood?”

He nodded, forking at the food on his plate but that wasn't enough for the elder man.

“Is that understood?” Leaning slightly into his space with a stone-cold look to his eye.

“Yes, sir.” The younger boy replied a little more sheepishly.

You watched the entire interaction unfold while keeping your own head down, trying to stay calm, watching as Nadine's eyes bounced between the two like she was waiting for something to happen. You immediately lost your appetite, asking to be dismissed from the table a few minutes later, thankful Roy obliged without any objections.

Late that same night, you were startled awake by the sound of glass breaking followed by muffled shouting and cries. You clung to the sheets and pulled them up, covering your head. It became the startling realization you had traded one abusive home only to be stuck in another. The perfect facade that was the Tillman home began to crack, showing all the festering secrets and lies in one fell swoop.

As you lay there, a soft knock came at the door, but you didn't move, too afraid to open your eyes until his hushed voice cut through the dark as he poked his head in.

“Hey, Y/N, are you awake?” Gator whispered out soft and timid, as the shouting and cries were slowly fading out. When you say nothing, he sighs, slowly pulling it closed on creaking hinges.

“Wait!” You whisper, making him stop. “Wh—what do you want?”

He pauses, watching as you carefully lower the covers, your sleep mussed hair popping into view before your wide, frightened eyes catch his.

“Can I come in?” He asks, hand still poised on the handle. He seemed small standing there in his grey joggers and tight-fitting tee, shifting slightly on bare feet waiting for you to answer.

You nod, not seeing him as a threat but kept your guard up, giving him a puzzled sort of look as you sit up.

He takes another look back out into the hall before quietly tiptoeing in and softly shutting the door behind him, crossing the room to the edge of the bed taking a seat at the end of it. He stays silent a moment longer, as if trying to figure out what to say.

“Why'd you come here?” He finally asks, with a hint of frustration, trying to keep it no louder than a whisper.

“I didn't have a choice.” You shrug, eyes flitting down to the worn comforter. “Dads in jail, mom didn't want me. Your dad said I could stay here that I— I'd be safe.”

Recounting the small conversation Roy had with you, it was either come here or spend the rest of your teenage years in juvie or foster care. It had seemed like a no-brainer.

“Yeah… Safe.” He scoffs. “Not everythin’ is sunshine and rainbows.”

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment, tears threatening to spill over your lash line.

“You don’t think I know that?” It came out a little breathless and high pitched, a little louder than you intended, unable to hide your emotion. “I should be used to bullshit by now.”

He gulped, not expecting the sudden reaction from you, firmly holding your gaze as his lips part but nothing comes out.

You think he's about to leave, head swiveling to the door as he sighs, then looking back to you through the dim light.

“Just try to stay out o’ trouble. Keep your head down and try not to piss off the old man.” He settles on.

There was a hint of something you couldn’t quite discern in his actions and words. Was he worried about you? He oozed a sort of macho bravado but here in this room, he slowly began to show a little more of himself. A teenager, just like you, trying to find his way in the world.

“Yeah,” you agree, unsure of what else to say.

“I better go. Ya’ gonna be okay?” He mumbled quietly, with a sweet sincerity to his question, rising from the bed to take his leave.

You nod, even though you didn’t feel okay, prompting him to nod back before he shuffled back out into the hall, leaving you alone once more. All the shouting had finally stopped, leaving the faint murmuring of the TV drifting from the room down the hall. The safety you had felt was gone, leaving you to question if there was truly any good left in the world. A question a sixteen-year-old shouldn’t have to worry about.

Something else happened that night. It was the first time Gator Tillman ever let someone see him in a different light. This compassionate, caring side he kept hidden away was vastly overshadowed by this continuous need for acceptance and love from his father, bringing out the worst side of him.

He had taken note of how strong willed you were, with a fiery, no bullshit nature that immediately drew him in. These attributes were also what worried him. The ranch had never been kind to those unwilling to fall in line and do as they were told.

Maybe it was the way you looked up at him, eyes shining on the verge of tears or despite yourself, he knew you would never stay out of trouble. You were only a couple of months younger than him, but he knew all too well what happened the last time Roy had brought someone he deemed a “throwaway” home. She became his stepmother after his own mother disappeared. Roy had an affinity for the young and pliable. The mere thought disgusted him. Gator feared the worst and was hit with an unwavering need to protect you.

The next morning an eerie sort of quiet hung over everyone at breakfast as Nadine, sporting a new black eye, sat everything down at the table. You couldn't help but stare at the state she was in, fragile and avoiding any sort of direct eye contact. Roy and Nadine both acted as if everything was business as usual, prompting you and Gator to do the same.

As horrid as it was, it didn’t take long to get used to seeing her bruised or battered in some way or another. As mild mannered and quiet as she seemed, she had a sharp tongue and wit that Roy didn’t take kindly to. This cycle became your new normal. You didn’t want to turn a blind eye, but given your situation, you had no alternative.

Life at the ranch aside, Gator suddenly didn't make it a point to ignore you so much, even going out of his way at school for a chat here and there or eating lunch with you.

The world didn't seem so lonely anymore, until a few weeks later when it was decided you would be homeschooled.

“Homeschooled, sir?” You asked puzzled as you set your fork back down to your plate, your heart suddenly began hammering in your chest. Gator's gaze briefly caught yours trying to communicate a warning glare, which you chose to ignore.

“Yes, Y/N. Nadine can show you the basics and you can better keep up with your chores during the day. I can teach you the more advanced curriculum when I get home in the afternoons.” He said, shoving a fork full of food into his mouth as if this would be the end of the conversation.

“I make good grades. I would rather stay in school. I want to try to go to col—”

“Y/N!” His gruff voice cut you off. “As long as you're under my roof you'll abide by my rules. The women in this family are homeschooled.”

“You can't make that decision for me! You are not my father!” You suddenly burst out feeling as though the air were suddenly sucked from the room. Nadine's gaze shifted from you back to Roy as Gator held his breath. It just wasn’t in your nature to back down from something you felt so passionately about. School had ALWAYS been your outlet.

Roy remained stoic, swallowing his food and wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin before turning and giving you his full attention, eyes dark as he trained them directly on you.

“Let's get one thing straight, your parents don't give a damn about you. If it weren't for me, you'd either be in the street or worse, God forbid. You're going to start showing a little gratitude! By law, I am your legal guardian, and I decide what’s in your best interest.” He pauses, watching your reaction.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears threatening to spill at your lash line as he smirked.

“You will be homeschooled starting tomorrow and I don't want to hear another goddamn word about it! You should be thanking me, you little ungrateful brat!” He spat, picking up his fork once more, returning to his meal, uncaring if you had a retort.

“Dad,” Gator suddenly spoke up, as hot tears spilled silently down your cheeks, casting your face toward the table.

“What is it son?” He asked, without looking up at the boy.

“If Y/N wants to go to school, I can keep an eye out on her. Make sure no one bothers her.” He shrugs, trying to keep his voice even.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” He harshly smacks the back of his head with a thump that makes you jump slightly. “Eat your food. My decision is final.”

The rest of the dinner was finished in tense silence until Roy got up to retire to his study for the evening. Gator went outside to finish the rest of his chores and you helped Nadine put away the leftovers and wash the dishes as you sniffed and tried to hold back your remaining tears the entire time.

She looked at you with sympathy, but didn’t try to make conversation.

You laid in bed that night staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep as the grim truth of the situation weighed on you. There was no shouting or cries that night, just cold silence and a reality you didn't want to face.

Pulling the covers back, you silently slipped from bed and out into the hall listening for any other sounds. The TV played in Roy and Nadine's room, hopefully covering any miniscule noises from you, tiptoeing down the hall, avoiding the creaks in the floorboards you had come to memorize.

You slowly turned the handle to Gator's room and opened the door enough to squeeze in as he shot up in bed.

“What're ya’ doing in here?” He hissed, voice groggy and sleep ladened, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand as he sat up.

You came in here to thank him for speaking up earlier but suddenly you couldn't say anything, your voice caught in your throat as you began to cry.

“Shit, hey.” He rose from his bed and quickly crossed his room over to you, hesitantly placing an arm around your shoulders. The warmth of physical touch you hadn’t felt in so long, melting almost instantly into his side. He wasn’t one to show his affection, hell he could barely remember the last time someone hugged him. It must have been his momma, he thought fondly, before shoving that back down.

He led you over to the bed and sat you both down, the springs squeaking slightly in protest. He sits in silence, listening to you, unsure of what to say to bring you some sense of comfort.

“Gator?” You finally ask, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“Yeah?” His eyes trained on the side of your face, his hand itching to reach up and help wipe away your tears.

“Can I stay in here tonight?” You ask timidly, turning your head to look up at him.

“In— in my bed?” He swallows thickly, contemplating just how bad he'd get his ass beat if Roy happened to walk in here, as you nod.

You see his hesitation and the way his eyes move back toward the door.

“I'll leave before he wakes up. I just don't want to be alone tonight. Please.” The words slipped from your mouth as if you read his mind.

The way you looked up at him, all doe eyes and pouty lips, he couldn't deny you. It would be hard to ever tell you no. Even with tear-stained cheeks and a runny nose you were devastatingly pretty to him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He nods quickly, standing up. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“No, please. There's enough room, I'll scoot over.” Saying as you lay down, moving over to the other side as close to the edge as possible, pulling the comforter over you.

“Yeah, ok.” He sighs, nervously sliding in beside you, laying on his back looking up toward the ceiling.

“Thank you.” You meekly spoke leaning up to give him a small kiss on the cheek, your lips leaving his skin abuzz, before turning over to face the wall.

The two of you fell silent, unsure if anything further needed to be said as your eyelids grow heavy, finding solace in his presence. He listened for a while until your breathing evened out as you drifted off to sleep.

He eventually followed, only jolted from a deep slumber when he heard Roy's fists banging on the door the next morning.

“Gator, get your ass up! Don't make me come back up here!” He yelled through the door.

His initial reaction was to look for you, but the other side of the bed was empty, he sighed. The only reminder of your presence was the lingering scent of your shampoo filing his lungs as he rolled over on the pillow you had laid on only an hour before.

Homeschool consisted of mainly taking care of the house, the only real curriculum you received was, as Roy had promised, with him late in the afternoons.

He wasn't kind nor patient, quickly growing frustrated with your attitude and unwillingness to comply. It's not that you didn't mind learning new skills, but this wasn't what you wanted to do. It was boring and, in your mind, useless.

It only took a few days for him to reach a boiling point.

“Y/N! Answer the damn question.” He gritted out between clenched teeth, his growing frustration mounting.

“I don't know the answer.” You shrugged, refusing to look him in the eye.

His hulking form came around the desk, grabbing your chin forcefully making you look up at him.

“Stop being so fuckin' difficult! Either fall in line, or I will make you fall in line.” His voice was strained, showing just how tired and weary he had grown of your behavior.

You stayed silent but met his gaze, determined to not back down. That very defiance would be your downfall.

It was the first time you felt the cruelty of his touch as the back of his hand met your cheek with a sharp, resounding smack. It had happened so suddenly; it left you stunned.

A searing heat flooded the side of your face, your eyes instantly welled with tears as you shot up from the chair, running from the room and out the back door. He watched, unmoving, letting you go.

You didn’t think. You just needed to run. Your bare feet carried you across the field, uncaring of how the uneven earth beneath you prodded and poked at your soles. The barn would reveal a good hiding spot, crawling into a small space concealed by hay. With your knees pulled into your chest you cried long and hard into the evening.

At some point you fell asleep, only rousing when you heard Gator yelling your name. You softly stirred, stretching your achy muscles.

“Gator?” You called out, your voice tired and scratchy.

“Y/N? Where the hell are ya’? Everybody's been lookin’ for ya’.” He replied, coming around the corner to see you wedged into your hiding spot.

“Jesus, it's fuckin’ freezin’ out here. What're you—” His heart dropped, as he shined his flashlight over in your direction taking in your disheveled appearance and the welt across your cheek.

His fists were clenched at his sides, anger bubbling up as he watched you crawl toward him, face tear streaked and puffy. He knelt down beside you, hesitantly bringing his hand up to brush the hair from your face as you closed your eyes. It was tender, careful not to aggravate the raised skin. The touch sending a shiver down your spine despite your current state.

“I shouldn't have talked back.” You murmured, barely above a whisper, as Gator's warnings from days earlier to stay out of trouble rolled to the forefront of your mind.

He nods in understanding, eyes flitting away from you, unsure of his own voice, dropping his hand back down.

“We have to get ya’ back to the house. I— Everyone's been worried sick.” He states, standing back up to shed his jacket.

He takes your hand as you stand on wobbly legs, making sure you’re steady before wrapping his coat around your shoulders. You lean on him, with his arm securely around your waist as you make the small trek back up to the house.

You're grateful the kitchen is empty when you enter.

“He got called away.” He commented as if knowing exactly what you were thinking. “Nadine left ya’ a plate in the microwave. Go sit down.” Nodding toward the table.

You sat quietly, watching as he heated your supper before setting it down and taking the seat across from you.

Gator watched as you ate a few bites and placed your fork back down.

“M’not very hungry.” You mumbled, regarding him for a moment.

Gator was an enigma. He was sweet but guarded and blindly loyal to his father in a way that made him dangerous, craving his approval so deeply that he would do anything to gain it. It left you wondering why he would help you knowing he would most likely get himself into trouble.

“Can I stay in your bed tonight?” You asked, catching him off guard.

“Hey,” he whispered, suddenly looking around the room and down the hall. “Keep that between us.” He hissed, and added “that's probably not a good idea. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” You look away, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I'm going to take a shower.”

You stood from the chair so quickly, he didn't have time to respond, watching you leave and climb the stairs before muttering to himself what an idiot he was.

He made his way to his room, passing the bathroom on the way, pausing in front of the door for a moment listening to the water run. He silently berated himself again before retiring to his bedroom.

He tried to sleep, but it eluded him, tossing and turning most of the night. Just before 11 pm he heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall, as he heard your bedroom door creak open and a few seconds later shut.

Roy was finally home.

He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as his door swung open slightly before it closed shut once more.

He waited another half hour before slipping out from the warmth and silently taking the few steps over to your door, making sure he wasn't making a sound before slowly opening it.

You were turned away, facing the window as he tiptoed further into the room, assuming you were asleep he thought about turning back around but then you whispered his name and turned over toward him.

“Hey. Still want some company?” He grinned, even if you couldn't make it out in the dark.

“Yeah.” You sighed, scooting over to make room for him. He crawled in beside you a little closer than the few days before.

You both laid on your backs, not saying anything for a few minutes. The silence was comfortable; happy to just be in the presence of someone else who understood.

“We need to get out of here.” Whispering, with your gaze set firmly to the ceiling. You hadn’t intended to say “we”, but it had slipped out so easily. Neither of you deserved the life that was being laid out before you.

“We can't.” He sighs, feeling your sudden hopelessness. “But I'll take care of you.”

He feels a little wave of confidence, his hand moving toward you. His pinky brushes yours, sending goosebumps across your flesh as you turn your head toward him.

“How?”

He turns his head at your question, meeting your eyes as his hand glides over the top of yours, resting there a moment before taking him by surprise when you suddenly turn your palm, threading your slender fingers through his. His palm was calloused but warm and comforting, his hand easily dwarfing your own.

“I'll keep you safe.” The only words he could think to say. He didn't know how to keep you from Roy entirely, but he knew he had time to think. You wouldn't turn eighteen for a while yet.

He kept the rest of those thoughts to himself. He had time.

After that night, you decided to stay quiet around Roy and do your lessons without any resistance. Things began to go a lot smoother around the Tillman ranch.

Weeks turned into months without another incident or hand raised against you and every night you would take turns sneaking into each other's rooms taking comfort and solace in the presence of one another.

Gator turned seventeen and was gifted a shiny new truck. He began spending less time at home but always found his way back to you at night under the cover of darkness until an idea struck him.

“It's too dangerous.” You giggled.

“And this isn't?” He laughed along with you. “If Roy walks in here and sees us under the covers, he'd skin me alive and probably burn you at the stake.”

You shake your head, burying your face in the pillow.

“Come on, just this one time and I won't say another word ‘bout it. I'll drive us down to the lake. Be back before anyone knows it.” He gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

“Gatorrrrrr.” You whine. “Don't give me that look.”

He pouts further, jutting his lower lip out.

“Okay.” You whisper, finally giving into his antics.

“Yeah?” His eyes light up at the prospect, a grin lifting the edges of his lips.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Okay!”

He gave you instructions to change and meet him outside in ten minutes before he left your room. It had luckily been a night Roy had a little too much to drink and would hopefully be out cold until morning.

You held your breath as you tiptoed down the hall, looking back only once before descending the stairs and quietly heading out the back door, feeling a rush of relief with the fresh air.

As you slowly closed the door, you felt arms wrap around your waist, a shiver traveling down your spine, as he whispered “gotcha” close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your cheek.

“Ready darlin?” He hums, still close, obviously no idea what his warm body pressed up against yours was doing to you as you turn to face him, his grip loosening.

“Yeah, let's go.” You smile, mirroring his. He slips his hand into yours as you race off the porch running the short distance to his truck, jumping in quickly before slowly rolling down the long drive without the lights on until you made it to the main highway.

Your heart was racing, looking back in the mirror as the old farmhouse grows smaller until it's finally out of sight.

He steals small glances at you when you aren't looking, admiring the non-stop smile gracing your face but he could tell you were nervous. You were far too quiet.

If only he could read your mind, it would have made this a lot easier. You weren't nervous because of sneaking out or even the chance of being caught. It was him. He made you nervous, in the best way.

You're not sure when it happened, those innocent late-night chats turning into a little bit more. Soft touches and scooting closer to one another. You sought comfort and found it in him.

“It's not far. We'll be back before no one knows we're missin’. Promise.” He states, grinning back over to you, trying to quell your nerves as his fingers fiddled with the radio before Patsy Cline’s “She's Got You” faintly played through the speakers.

“Patsy Cline?” You ask, with a quirk of your brow, expecting something, anything other than that.

“She was my momma's favorite.” He shrugged, as if mentioning her was no big deal, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

No one ever talked about Linda, even though her picture was still hung in the hallway nestled right alongside Nadine and Roy's wedding photo, it seemed like it was still a touchy subject in the Tillman household.

“She was pretty.” You said quietly. His gaze flicked quickly to you and back to the road before he left out a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, she was.” He replied solemnly, giving away the hint of nostalgia he was feeling.

You nodded, looking back out the window, thinking the conversation was over until he cleared his throat to speak up again.

“She would play Patsy when I was little, when it was just the two of us.” A fond smile played on his lips before he continued. “Sometimes we'd dance around the kitchen while she was cooking. I– I miss her.” He could picture it now, the old turntable softly filling the small kitchen with Patsy’s voice as he danced with her. His small feet on top of hers as she moved them both around the room. Her smile and laughter were infectious, making his eyes sparkle with childhood delight.

A few beats of silence passed before you finally asked, “where is she?”

“Don't know.” He shrugs again, but the pain was evident in his voice. “Figure she got tired of the way dad— uh, she just left.”

“I'm sorry, Gator.” You reply, as he scoffs slightly, making you look back up at him.

“What're you sorry for? She was a grown woman. She made her choice.” He spat out.

“I know that. I'm sorry you had to go through it.” You slowly place your hand to his forearm, your touch both electrifying and soothing to him.

“Sorry, I— shouldn't've… it's not your fault.” He sputters, feeling remorseful for the harsh tone. He thought of his mother often but never spoke of her aloud. It was a nice change to speak so freely without any repercussions. Her records were still at the house, tucked away in the bottom of his closet. Roy wouldn’t allow them to be played after she was gone.

“It's okay.” Your touch lingers momentarily as the song finally comes to an end. Pulling your hand away and settling back into the passenger seat, the moment passing between the two of you. Each passing moment you learned a little more about this boy, peeling back the layers of his complex life.

He turned down a small road off the highway, pavement giving way to gravel as it got a little bumpier.

“You come here often?” Asking, as you take in his profile, he had gotten a little taller over the spring and summer, lean muscle on display under his tight shirt.

“Sometimes. Guys on the football team bring their gir—” he clears his throat. “Uh, they have parties here.”

“They bring their girlfriends here?” Smirking at his abrupt change in phrasing.

“Uh, yeah, it— it's a nice spot to, I dunno. Relax, I guess.” He shrugs trying to downplay his own embarrassment.

“Sounds nice.” You say quietly, looking back out the window.

The gravel eventually turns into a dirt road as he slows down further to navigate the dips and ruts before a clearing comes into view up ahead. The moon is large and sparkling against the water below as he moves close to the shore.

He throws it in park, as you jump out of the truck without another thought, laughing out into the clear night.

“Hey, damnit!” He yells out. “Wait for me!”

You're already bolting across the shore, toeing your shoes off and letting the water lap at your ankles as he strides up beside you. So caught up in the sound of your laughter he can't bring himself to scold you for running off.

“It's so pretty!” You say, smiling out at the water.

“Yeah,” he whispers, staring at you instead. He takes in your features and the unadulterated bliss, as he thinks that he’s never seen you this happy since coming to the ranch. If he could do more, he would, but this is the best given your circumstances.

“We could come out here again, maybe try to sneak away once a week? I know I said I wouldn't ask again but—”

“Really?” You asked, looking up at him with excitement, but still feeling hesitant to get your hopes up. Roy rarely lets you leave the ranch, just the occasional trip with Nadine to the grocery store.

He nods, pulling a pack of smokes out of his pocket, along with a Zippo as your eyes follow his movements.

“You smoke?” Questioning with a raise of your brow toward him.

“Sometimes. Want one?” He offers, holding the pack up but you shake your head. He shrugs, taking one and placing it between his lips, lighting it with ease as if he'd done it a thousand times before.

His cheeks hollow as he inhales, the end glowing cherry red between you. He smirks when he sees you watching him so intently.

“Come on, let's go sit.” Nodding his head toward a downed tree not far behind you, as you follow reluctantly leaving the water.

You sit beside him, suddenly growing a little anxious. The sounds of water lapping at the shore and the crickets filling the silence. It felt right. This is what you should be doing, living outside of that invisible barrier that has been placed in your way.

The rules you now have to follow make it impossible to be a normal teenager. For just a little while, you could pretend you were on a date with a boy you liked. Nothing more.

Your toes dig at the soft sand below your feet, before gaining the courage to speak again.

“Gator, is this a date?”

He chokes, inhaling roughly and coughing before sputtering out a hoarse, “What?!”

“A date. When a guy likes a girl, he asks her to go out and they—” You start to explain.

“Fuck, I know what a date is. This," he gestures between you, "ain't that. I just thought ya’ wanted to get out of the house, s’all.” He huffs, extinguishing the rest of his cigarette on the roughened wood beside him.

You nod, quickly looking away, a little saddened by his curt response.

He immediately noticed your face fall, silently cursing himself for saying the first damn thing that came to mind.

“I mean, is that— did ya’ want this to be a date?” He quickly recovers.

“I don't know.” Shrugging, still looking away, the water was suddenly much more interesting, as the heat in your cheeks became too much.

He wasn't sure what to say. Did you want this to be a date? Did he?

Other guys his age went on dates and had girlfriends. He often wondered if he was the oddball ignoring the advances of his peers. None of the girls at school ever drew his attention like you did. You were just there. A friend and someone he longed to be around. Those hushed conversations late at night were what he looked forward to the most each day, when he really felt like himself.

Should he ask you on a date, even though you live together under the same roof? He knew it was fucked up but in some odd way, he felt like you were already his.

He grew too quiet, lost in his own thoughts and it felt like the silence was too deafening, so you stood up and began to pull your shirt up over your head.

“What the hell are yo–” his jaw dropped when your hand drifted to your shorts and popped the button as they slid down your bare legs. Your back was to him, standing there in nothing but your underwear. Sure, he'd seen a lot of your skin but not like this.

“Y/N! Put your damn clothes back on!” He hissed out, trying to look anywhere else.

“We're at the lake, Gator! I want to swim!” You yelled back, suddenly sprinting for the water.

“Jesus Christ!” He muttered, watching you dive headfirst into the lake and disappearing briefly before your head popped back up.

“Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack?” He yelled, with no real malice. His next words dying on his tongue as he watched you from the shore, the moonlight glistening over your soft skin making you appear like some ethereal creature from a storybook.

“Gator! Come swim with me!” You yelled, looking back toward him standing there on the shore.

Who was he to deny you? He toed off his sneakers and unbuttoned his pants in haste, looking down to realize he had worn his briefs instead of his boxer shorts. Shit. Heat creeped up his cheeks thinking of you seeing him in so little.

He pauses a moment, before he hears you call his name again, finally releasing a heavy sigh, he finishes unzipping his jeans and letting them pool at his feet before removing his shirt and pulling off his socks.

“Comin’ Sunshine!” He finally calls back, taking a deep breath, before diving in after you.

When he surfaces, he's met with silence. His head swivels as he turns in the water to catch a glimpse of where you might be.

“Y/N?!” He yells, already frantic as a spike of panic sets in. “Y/N?!” He shouts a little louder this time.

He suddenly hears a splash right beside him as your hands grab his shoulder and head, surprising him as you push him under the water with a loud laugh.

Once he resurfaces, he instantly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your back into his chest as you let out a scream and start laughing once more.

“You're such a little shit!” He shouts, still trying to catch his breath but your laughter is too contagious to feel any real anger toward you.

“Your turn!” He shouts before you feel him start to drag you backward with him. You hold your breath, as the water closes in around you, enveloping you both in her cool embrace. His grip loosening for you to float back up.

You're both laughing, trying to catch your breaths, opening your eyes to him already looking at you with a big lopsided grin that you've come to feel he only reserves for you. The laughter quietly subsides as you continue to stare at each other.

The moon is big and bright, almost full but not quite, providing enough light to take everything in as you silently begin to drift around him, your fingertips dragging across his back, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

He freezes at the contact, making something stir deep within him. There's something in your gaze that makes him nervous, it's soft and warm. No one's ever looked at him with such kindness and admiration.

“What— what're ya doin’?” He finally asks, trying to hide the small tremble in his voice.

“Just swimming…” You giggle, moving back directly in front of him, your feet finding the lake bottom to stand in the chest deep water.

“Yeah, but why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?” His voice cracks at the end, giving away his nerves, despite trying to keep his cool.

“Like what, Gator?” You tilt your head, playing dumb, trying to let him make the first move. You'd been dreaming about your first kiss, hoping and praying it would be with him. This was the first chance you'd had actually getting him alone, free from worry or prying eyes. Was he really that clueless?

“Like— like that.” He sputters, feeling a slight mixture of annoyance and something, he couldn't quite discern.

“I don't know.” Shrugging and looking away, suddenly feeling embarrassed as doubt began to creep in.

He notices the expression that crosses your face and suddenly it clicks for him. You begin to slowly ease back into the water, about to dive back in when he softly grabs your wrist.

“Wait! Just— wait a sec.” He holds firm, pulling you a little closer to him. “I'm an idiot, okay.”

Your eyes turn back to his face. He's grinning, unable to contain it at this point but you don't say anything. His eyes flit across your face, down to your lips and back up.

“You still want this to be a date?” He asks, voice a little huskier than before. He kissed Becky Mitchell behind the bleachers last fall to see what all the fuss was about, so he knew what to do, but he was suddenly a little anxious, because he wants so badly to see what it's like with you. Would it be different? Would it feel different?

“Um… yeah, I'd like that.” You nod.

You aren't sure what to do, as he begins to crowd into your space, your heart beating wildly at the thought of what might come next. He releases your wrist to place his hand on your hip, fingers splayed across your soft skin pulling you even closer.

“Gator?” You hesitantly ask, searching his face.

“Yeah?” His grip grew a little tighter in response, his free hand timidly coming to your waist, fingertips dancing at your ribs causing a shiver to travel down your spine.

“I— I'm nervous.” You say, a little breathless.

“Don't be, s’just me.” Finally finding a hint of his feigned confidence as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, trying to hide the truth. He thought his heart might explode out of his chest at any moment, wondering if you could hear the rhythmic beat with how wildly it was thumping against his ribs.

You nod, as your words fail you, gasping, as your bodies finally brush and meet underwater, pressed chest to chest. He's warm and firm, your hands finding their way up his body to wrap your arms around his neck.

It's like time stops, the world ceases to exist around you as he closes the distance, and his lips finally meet yours. They were soft but a little chapped, not that you gave it much thought because you were trying to keep your nerves at bay.

It's a soft peck, then another. It's a little messy at first, timid and unknowing but then he tilts his head slightly, lifting his hand to cradle your jaw as his lips glide against yours. You let him take the lead, unsure of yourself but the feeling of him against you makes your head feel dizzy, closing your eyes against the onslaught of sensations running rampant.

His tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, begging for entry. A small, involuntary noise emanates from the back of your throat as they part for him.

You try to pull him a little closer, as he does the same, his tongue darting out, and then a little further licking into your mouth meeting yours in a messy crescendo. He tastes of nicotine and something faintly sweet and what you could only describe as inherently Gator. A low groan passes his lips as you swallow and savor the sound.

Your lungs are on fire, aching and pleading for you to come up for air but you don't want the moment to end. For the first time in your life, you feel alive. Your body is electrified, senses on high alert, as your tummy does somersaults.

A few more seconds and he's the one to finally break, pulling away, breath heaving as he lowers his forehead to yours. Your eyes open to his, the hazel irises barely a faint ring around his dark pupils. The waves softly move around you, finally reminding you where the two of you still are, his body pressed firmly to yours and you're suddenly all too aware how exposed you feel.

Shyness creeps slowly back under your skin and you want to crawl away, duck back into the water so he can't see you.

You grin, pulling out of his reach to dive back in, leaving him there gawking back at the ripples you’ve left behind with a groan. He's very aware of the effect you have on him and his body as he tries to discreetly readjust himself.

He begrudgingly makes his way back to the shoreline so he can get dressed. It was getting late, and you needed to get back home before the sun came up.

He slides his jeans on, eyes still watching you move through the water.

“Come on! We gotta get home!” He calls out.

Sighing, you finally start to remove yourself from the water, not yet ready for the night to end but it was inevitable.

He turns away as your body is slowly revealed, feeling like he should show you some sort of privacy. He throws his shirt back on and walks back to the truck to wait on you.

A few minutes later, the passenger door swings open as you get in with sopping wet hair and clothes sticking to your still damp skin, but he thinks you're the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

It was a quiet ride back, neither of you quite knowing what to say. He cuts the lights and slows down as he pulls back into the drive, just as you had left, parking a little further away so the roar of the engine wouldn’t wake anyone.

You both silently exit the truck, making your way up to the house. Once you enter, the air is still, no sounds of people yet stirring as you breathe a small sigh of relief.

He's right behind you, tiptoeing up the stairs, and then down the hall, a warm hand to the small of your back as he reluctantly stops at your bedroom door.

You don't turn around, hand poised on the handle as he leans in, whispering in your ear. “I hope you had fun. Goodnight, Sunshine.” With a hum, he presses a small parting kiss to your temple before you open the door and slip in. You hear his own door open and softly close a few moments later.

You exchange your wet clothes for a soft nightgown, laying back on the feather pillow as the kiss you’d shared plays over and over again in your head. There was a permanent smile etched across your face, making your cheeks faintly hurt from overuse. A warmth was blooming deep inside your chest. You’d had your fair share of crushes, but there was no doubt in your mind this must be what it felt like to be falling in love.

A few weeks passed, along with a few more stolen kisses and sneaking out at midnight.

At home, you didn’t spend much time together, trying to avoid suspicion from either Roy or Nadine.

The days were filled with summer chores and nights spent hidden away in each other's beds. You enjoyed kissing him, you were happy but sometimes there was a need for more; a longing and desire you couldn’t quite satiate.

He was currently situated beside you, upper body pressed into yours as his weight pushed you further into his mattress. Your lips languidly moved against his, before his mouth began to drift across your jaw and down your neck. The ache pooling deep in your lower belly was reaching a fever pitch.

“Gator?” You ask, timidly, with your eyes still firmly shut, relishing his soft kisses across your skin.

“Hmm? Yeah?” He asks, pulling back to study your face.

“I… feel like I need more.” You blurt out, covering your face with your hands.

He groans, knowing where this conversation was headed, lifting himself off you and laying back against his pillow as you turn to your side. With a heavy sigh he replies, “We can’t.” Keeping his eyes fixed firmly toward the ceiling.

“Why not? I– I want you to be my first.” You quietly admit.

“Christ.” He mutters, raking a hand down his face, trying to choose his words carefully. He couldn’t deny his own need but this was new territory for the both of you.

“Is that— what ya’ want? Ya’ want me to—?” He can barely get his question out without stumbling over his words as he reluctantly meets your gaze. He knows you shouldn't. If Roy ever found out, he'd probably kill the both of you but he didn’t want to think about the consequences. Not when you were looking at him with your big sparkling eyes, like he’d hung the goddamn moon.

“Yes.” You breathe out softly.

“Okay,” he replies, swallowing the lump in his throat, coaxing you to lay your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you. “We can’t here, but I promise I'll think of somethin’.”

He made good on that promise a few nights later, a sweet boy trying to show a girl just how much he means to her, the only way he knew how.

Whatever happened in the barn that hot August night was between you, him and the Moon. She would forever keep your secrets safely hidden away.

Bliss. It was the only way to describe the high you'd been riding. Sneaking out of the house was still a regular occurrence, except most of the time you spent fogging up the inside of his truck. You both dove headfirst with reckless abandon and had little regard or worry about the consequences.

He wished to take you out on a real date, to hold your hand while watching a movie or sharing a milkshake at the diner. You both knew it would remain just that, a wish. It was too risky. Everyone knew Gator and word would surely get back to Roy so you kept your secret to yourselves to enjoy it for as long as you could.

Labels were never put on this thing between you. He never called you his girlfriend and you never saw any reason to call him your boyfriend. When you were alone, you were simply his and he was yours. Neither of you ever brought up the future, simply living in the moment and giving into your impulses as you saw fit.

Summer faded into Autumn, bringing with her the bright, crisp colors of fire and embers. Gator went back to school and you went back to your at-home studies.

The days became shorter as the weather began to grow colder heading quickly into the winter months. You spent less time outdoors, getting your chores done as quickly as possible, opting to stay in the warmth of the house as much as possible. This is when you began to notice a shift in Nadine.

She had grown a lot more quiet than usual, drawn in on herself. The usually bright and cheery nature she outwardly portrayed was no longer there, though you couldn’t blame her. The frequent abuse had never gone unnoticed, you’d only assumed he had finally broken her spirit. You’d never fully understood why she stayed with a man like Roy Tillman until it was far too late.

Roy, on the other hand, seemed to be in good spirits. There were less outbursts around the house with you and Gator managing to stay on his good side. They say hindsight is 20/20 and looking back now, it should have been clear.

She’d hugged you after supper one afternoon, something not uncommon but the way she held you tighter, letting the embrace linger for just a little longer than usual caught you a little off guard.

“You’ll be good and stay out of trouble, yeah?” She’d whispered, her voice timid.

“Of course.” You replied, squeezing her back.

“Good.” She pulled away, with an almost remorseful look in her eye. “You’re a good girl. I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow at her apology but before you could ask what she meant by it, she dropped her hold on you and left the room.

You snuck out that night for your midnight rendezvous with a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you it was a bad idea that you ultimately chose to ignore.

The engine hummed as you walked over, forcing a smile to hide the trepidation you were feeling. He had gone out ahead of you to warm up the cab.

The door opened to reveal him waiting in the driver's seat, hands cupped around his mouth, blowing on them for added warmth. He wore his thick Carharrt jacket with a black beanie covering his head. He lowered his hands to smile up at you when his eyes found yours.

“Hey Sunshine.” He greets you sweetly, as you softly reply with “hey.” Your voice came out a little more melancholy than you intended, hoping he hadn’t noticed as you climbed in, softly shutting the door behind you.

“Here.” Extending his hand toward you holding out a matching beanie. “Didn’t know if you had one. It’s gonna get hard to do the chores in the mornin’ without one. Ya’ can keep it.”

You couldn’t help the genuine smile that lifted the edges of your lips at the thoughtfulness, while he beams at you. In all honesty, it wasn’t something that you had thought to ask Nadine or Roy for.

Your fingers brush his as you take it from him before haphazardly throwing it over your head.

“Cute.” He remarks with a sideways grin. “Now, get that ass over here and warm me up.”

You giggle, moving a folded quilt he had brought along and scooting across the bench seat. When you got close, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you the rest of the way into his side. His lips leave a warm, lingering kiss to your cheek before asking if you were ready to go.

He drove with no particular destination in mind as the truck sped down deserted highways and backroads, happy to be here with you more than anything. His hand fiddles with the radio a time or two, quickly finding its place back on your thigh, as you lace your fingers with his.

You never mentioned the feeling you had or the odd way Nadine had acted, thinking it was better to keep it to yourself instead of souring the mood.

His truck comes to a stop on the lakeshore. The very spot he’d brought you countless times before. You sat there on the tailgate, pressed together with the quilt draped around both of you in comfortable silence as you held hands. The radio played softly in the background as the gentle lapping waves kissed the shore.

You move to rest your head against his shoulder with a sigh, looking out across dark water. There was no moon, no one to keep your secrets tonight.

“We won’t be able to stand the cold much longer. Hell it’ll be snowin’ in a few weeks.” He finally remarks.

“That’ll make it harder to sneak out. Won’t be able to hide our tracks.” You add, feeling a little saddened by the thought.

“Mhm. Didn’t think about that.” He hums, bringing his lips to your temple for a chaste kiss. “Guess we’ll make due in our rooms. You’ll have t’keep the noises down.”

“Gator!” You scoff, head shooting up, sending him a glare that makes him bark a laugh.

“I know. I know.” He holds a hand up in mock defence, with a grin. “Thought I’d try, anyhow.”

You shake your head, smiling back, despite yourself.

“You’re doing well at quarterback? Me and Nadine always listen to the games on her little radio.” Changing the subject before he could get any other bright ideas.

“Oh yeah, Anderson went down for a couple of weeks, and I showed em’ what I could do. Coach is going to start me next fall for senior year.” He suddenly glowed at the prospect, on his way with a full ride scholarship once he graduated.

“That’s amazing!” You praised, truly proud of him.

He lit up and began telling you a story as you watched him, everything else fading away. The slight crinkle at his eyes as his laughter carried through the clear, bright night. The warmth in the smile that he only ever reserved for you. He had a way of making you feel like you were the only person on earth when he looked at you with his undivided attention. You suddenly wished so desperately you could stop time at this very moment and live here forever.

The conversation drifted for a little longer into the night until your cheeks and noses were rosy and numb. A few more laughs and stolen kisses before you reluctantly had to head back to the ranch.

He helped you back into the truck, shutting the door and rounding the front with a jog, eager for a little heat.

You were still wrapped up in the blanket looking back at him with an all too dulcet smile as he quickly hopped in and turned the ignition, hoping like hell it would warm quickly.

“Hey, Sunshine.” He says, holding your gaze, as he lifts his hands to brush some hair from your face. “Anyone ever tell ya’ that ya’ got the prettiest smile around?”

You shake your head, in reply. The smile at your lips only grows with his compliment.

“Well, ya’ do. You’re real pretty.” He turns more toward you, starting to lean in, his hand dropping to the side of your neck, warm and calloused against your cool skin.

His nose nudges yours, as slightly wind chapped lips meet yours. You melt into the kiss with a soft sigh, parting your lips for your tongues to tangle rhythmically. There was an underlying urgency as he tilted his head, his free hand slipping to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

You poured every once of what you felt for him into that kiss, hoping through actions you could convey what mere words never could.

Gator Tillman was your first love.

Though no “I love yous” were ever said aloud, you felt it in each and every moment you shared. In reality, it was a love that was never meant to last. This night would forever be ingrained as the turning point, doomed by the narrative that was laid out before you but you were both too naive to see it.

He hesitantly pulls away, resting his forehead to yours, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. He had to get you home but wanted to keep you to himself. When you think back to Gator, these are the quiet moments that pull to the forefront of your mind. The moments you tried to carry with you in your darkest days.

He smirks and pecks your lips one last time before reluctantly pulling away completely, sitting back in the seat.

“Damn.” He mutters. “I wish we had more time.”

“Me too.” You softly reply, taking up your usual spot right in beside him, not a hint of daylight between you as he shifts the truck into gear taking your leave.

It was a quiet, comfortable ride back until the house finally came back into view.

Your stomach dropped, like all the air had been sucked from the space you shared. All the lights were on and numerous deputies were parked outside. Something was terribly wrong.

Gator turned into the driveway, heart in his throat, trying to stay calm for your sake but in all honesty was scared shitless.

“Hey,” his hand resting on your thigh gave you a gentle squeeze. “It's okay, just follow my lead. Whatever it is, whatever happens, I'm right here.”

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from outside the window. Your insides were twisted, feeling like tonight's supper was going to come back up at any moment as you placed your hand on top of his, clinging onto him with an almost bruising force. You wanted to believe him but you were both truly powerless against a much bigger force.

Roy, standing on the porch, turned to see the truck. His stare was cold and indifferent, but his jaw was set. He began to walk over as Gator put the truck in park.

“Just stay in here.” He ordered, hand on the door handle, eyes pleading for you to listen to him.

“Gator,” you whimper, tears suddenly springing to your eyes. You were scared. There was no way either of you would walk away from this unscathed.

He sent you a half smile before leaving you alone in the cab with your heart hammering in your chest. You tried to take a few big, calming breaths to ease the anxiety that was coursing through your veins.

Roy's steps were heavy and calculated, reaching Gator in a matter of seconds before grabbing him by the collar pushing him harshly up against the door of the truck. You gasped out, covering your mouth.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He hissed between gritted teeth.

“We ju— just went for a drive. S’all dad. I asked her to.” His voice came out sure and steady. A scenario he'd thought about a million times, never believing it would come to fruition but he was living his worst nightmare.

“A drive? You expect me to believe that?” His grip grew a little tighter, pushing him again.

“S’the truth. I swear. You didn't have to get the whole department involved. We just went to the lake.” Shrugging nonchalantly, holding onto his lie for dear life, hoping for once he was believable.

You held your breath watching the whole thing unfold, the tension between the two only growing with each passing second.

“They ain't here for you, idiot! Nadine's gone!” He hisses.

Gator's eyes went wide with the sudden revelation.

“And then I find you sneaking out with Y/N after I told you to stay away from her?! Can't you listen to a goddamn thing I tell you?!” His voice bellowed out, sending a chill down your spine.

You looked on with horror as he held Gator by the collar with one hand, quickly raising the other, as the back of it connected with the side of his face.

“No!” You wailed, watching him slump forward as Roy then punched him in the abdomen, letting his knees hit the hard ground below. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you stood by and let this happen without trying to help him.

You immediately flew into action, jumping out of the truck and running around to the other side, throwing yourself in front of him as he lay on the ground, groaning and gasping for a breath.

“Leave him alone!” You screamed, facing Roy head on with fury in your eyes before you felt the sudden sting of his palm meeting your cheek, knocking you dazed for a moment as you fell into the rough gravel below.

“You're an ungrateful little whore!” He yelled, taking a step toward you, but Gator had somehow managed to get to his feet, tackling the older man to the ground.

“Don't you fuckin' touch her!” He yelled, his fists coming down anywhere he could land a punch.

You cradled your jaw, trying to sit up, still dazed and helpless to the scene playing out before you.

Blow after blow pelted down on Roy until one of the ranch hands and a deputy were able to finally drag Gator off of him, kicking and screaming, leading him away and toward the back of the house. He was yelling out your name when Roy slowly got up and spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground turning his attention back to you.

His eyes bore into yours, staggering a step before righting himself and coming toward you like a raging bull.

You weren't quick enough to back away as he grabbed your arm with a bruising grip, pulling you to stand. Tears were free falling down your cheeks as he began to drag you to the house.

“No! Let me go!” You shrieked up at him, trying to wrench out of his grasp but he quickly turned, grabbing your other arm getting directly in your face.

“If you don't goddamn behave, I'm only going to make it worse for him.” He sneered. “You hear me?”

The implications of his words were crystal clear. Roy was capable of anything. No, God no. Please don’t let anything happen to him. When you didn't say anything, his grip on your arms only tightened as he shook you.

“Do you hear me?!”

“Yes, s—sir.” You sputter, bowing your head in defeat.

Without another word, he led you into the house and up to your room, shoving you in, causing you to trip and fall onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. You wince as your knees hit, bruising upon impact.

The door was quickly shut, with the unmistakable sound of him locking it from the outside could be heard echoing across the room.

You sat on the floor, leaned up against the bed, praying to whoever might listen. Please God, don't let Roy kill him.

#Spotify #gator tillman #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x runaway #gator tillman x reader #fargo season 5 #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fargo #joe kerry #gator tillman fic

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plungermusic · 21 days ago

Text

…you’re runnin’ back, and comin’ back for more…

Plunger were takin’ it to the limit in more ways than one on Maverick Saturday: yes, thirteen hours can be a bit of an endurance affair for the, ahem, upper-middle-aged, but it was also often more the case of pushing the envelope of what constitutes Americana to the very edge.

A bright and early 10:30 start didn’t dim Motel Vandals’ raucous exuberance, in Voodoo Kitten’s slinky Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t-style N’awlins lope and swinging bull-fiddle-twiddling rockabilly like Good Girl’s Gone Bad. The punky blast of Johnny Ace Is Dead was starting to ring out as we beat a retreat to the Green stage.

Last minute replacements for enforced band absences resulted in a changed running order, and the opening slot on the Green now went to the very accomplished Australian duo The Weeping Willows. Old Maverick hands (in their own right and with Lachlan Bryan) Andrew Wrigglesworth and Laura Coates stepped confidently into the breach: even a sudden power outage didn’t phase them, they just stepped down into the midst of the seated crowd and continued unplugged! Great harmonies plus judicious splashes of accordion from Laura on originals like River Of Gold, a bustling country folk number with a touch of bushranger; the slow waltz of Fall Out Of Time; and covers including a rattling skifflesque take on C.C. Rider.

Back at the Barn The 20ft Squid Blues Band were living up to their name (and continuing the vein started by Motel Vandals) with up-tempo, high-octane, harp-laden, yes you guessed it, blues. As it was blues they did do the obligatory ‘Quiet, quieter, quieter still, almost too quiet too hear…LOUD AGAIN!’ bit so beloved of that scene, and I’m afraid as we left the song being played reminded me quite a lot of George Melly on speed doing Shortnin’ Bread.

Definitely from the rockier (and more sophisticated) end of the Americana spectrum, another short-notice stand-in, and another Maverick returnee, was on the Green next - The Vagaband [above and below]. The polished six-piece provided plenty of what Plunger deem ‘proper festival music’ in Dead-style loose-limbed rockers like Desdemona with some lovely Chuck Leavellish piano and two-way guitar/lap-steel lines; slinkier West Coast lopes such as White Noise with its Doobiesesque slick harmonies and electric piano, and understated funk in The Lazy which closed in a Vanilla Fudge-like overdriven keys and guitar wig-out to frighten the horses (both figuratively and literally given where we were). Tripping On Cheese was an appropriately hallucinatory Zappa-meets-Beefheart waltz, with off-kilter piano, luscious slide guitar and fine harmonica, while a couple of tub-thumping crowd pleasers, Not My Day To Die and An Eye For An Eye were elevated by excellent vocals and musicianship, and in the case of the latter, a surprise Miss You-style disco detour! Marvellous stuff all round.

Hopefully he doesn’t mind being likened to a sorbet, but a quick visit to Kev Walford on the Medicine Show stage was a welcome palate cleanser after the heavier fare on the Green. Light Laurel Canyon-y folk, his solo stint on this ‘busking’ stage down among the baby goats included a cover of Dylan’s I Shall Be Released, and his own Sell My Soul To The Blues plus a new one, written in the style of 19th century campfire songs, The Ballad Of Jenny Cutter, all of which garnered a fair amount of participation from the assembled crowd under the trees.

Back on the Green, Linda McLean & The Awakening were rounding out a (mostly) repeat of their set from Friday, with Mandolin, Got My Heart and Bittersweet Song, the latter including some dramatic fiddle additions from Chris Murphy, and one we didn’t hear before, a slow epic All Of The Love with an effective overlapping call-and-response chorus, before The Lamplight Club took over. And take over they did: another East Anglian six-piece, with an even more, shall we say, free-ranging attitude to what constitutes Americana. In their seven-song set I managed to scribble notes referencing: proggy epic; Uriah Heep; Blaxploitation soundtrack; dark psychedelia; Manson family gris-gris ritual; Adrian Belew tone and atonal progressions… Particular favourites were the Doors-y Five To One tribal vibe of Take It Out On Me with some searing Frippesque guitar and Shake which featured a highly surprising Umphrey’s McGee-like burst of bludgeoning death metal riffing (yes, really). Long story short, we bought their EP.

Following the (culture) shock that preceded them, The Burner Band returned to more expected Americana territory to the relief of a good portion of the crowd: folks who you’d have presumed to have died in their folding chairs from the previous onslaught suddenly reanimated at the sound of a dum-dicker-dum beat. The lads from Leeds turned out a respectable upbeat set that got the dancers going again, but after the Lampies it fell a little flat with us (notwithstanding some very nice pedal steel) and we wandered off toward the Barn.

We were in time to catch the last three songs from solo singer songwriter Toria Wooff: her soft, delicate-but-with-a-sinew-of-resilience vocal fitted the folk-country wistfulness of That’s What Falling In Love Will Do with its rising and falling breathing-like melody, the vulnerable-yet-defiant See Things Through and melancholic Estuaries perfectly.

Next on at the Barn was Danny George Wilson [above]: nothing proves Plunger’s woeful ignorance of the Americana scene more than the fact it took a fair few songs before the penny dropped that it was Danny of “& The Champions Of The World” fame in a two-guitar-and-keys trio, topped with his winning, idiosyncratic, gravelly warble. Not surprisingly then it was a cracking set, with both his own solo originals and some D&TCOTW numbers, from the Dylan-meets-JD Souther amble of Right Place, to the Nitty Grittyish (Never Stop Building) That Old Space Rocket, and blue-collar ballads in the Jersey Shore vein abounded, typified by the fine Stay True.

Back on the Green, with the forecast rain holding off (just about) The Bondurants produced a set of muscular rocky alt-country with laddish (pace Jenna Fan on keys & vocals) panache, very much like a Leeds Massy Ferguson. Great harmonies (including some nice a cappella work) and lush pedal steel added spice to songs like the tub-thumping The Devil Above (a favourite with the dancing fans) while the punchy West Coastiana of Southside Looking Down featured lovely swirly Hammond organ tones.

Sara Petite closed out the Green stage with another roister rollicking set that had the crowd on its feet from the off: including the poppy, boppy high school dance bustle of Jealous Heart, a brisk strolling Feeling Like An Angel, and God Save The Queen - not THAT one, but still with a hint of punky, punchy belligerence and a nice burst of chicken-pickin’ Telecaster!

Two Crows For Comfort [above] were a surprise Plunger favourite over the weekend. Erin Corbyn (mandolin) and Cory Sulyma (guitar/kick drum / occasional harmonica) from Manitoba brought a deal of folky quirkiness and some very dry humour to the Barn. Their songs had a real backwoods, almost made-up-on-the-spot, immediacy, courtesy of their unexpected harmonies, timings, pauses and moods, and Erin’s fiddle-drag vocal glissandi. “I wrote this one for Erin… it’s called ‘Misery’!” was one sample of dry wit, introducing an offbeat conversational exchange about her coping with HIS misery, while an ostensibly sad song Frankenstein’s Waltz, written for a rescue Boxer pup they took on who died young, was an occasion for some humorous, nay joyous crowd participation of howling like a dog whenever the harmonica came in just as he used to do (of which more later). Another unusual topic covered was death-by-pressing, in The Ballad Of Giles Corey. A very enjoyable act on several levels!

With the occasional flash of actual sunshine bathing the Barn we stayed there for round two of Casey Neill & Chet Lyster. More spellbinding stuff from the pair, including a haunting The Night Owl & The Lark (in memory of Joe Strummer); In The Swim, which featured somewhat Simon & Garfunkel Greenwich coffee shop call-and-response/counterpoint harmony vocals; and the bleak-yet-dreamy PNW Gothic of Dark & Down. Sublime stuff, and the perfect soundtrack to the mellow early evening.

At the risk of being accused of cheating, Plunger headed off to the Moonshine to catch another helping of Two Crows For Comfort [below]. New to the set were the delicate Next To Me, complete with falsetto and whistling (and a rather Caledonian-flavoured middle eight) and a junkerdash kick-and-tambourine-driven To Regina With Love; plus two new covers (having done Ring Of Fire previously) another Cash classic Fulsom Prison Blues (with Erin’s kazoo solo) and an eye-wateringly sweet Going To California. A reprise of Frankenstein’s Waltz included a reprise (obviously) of the crowd participation, this time without prior instruction: “I’m relying on those of you who saw our earlier set to do the right thing. Not least so when you do I can enjoy the reactions from up here of those who weren’t” And even from our vantage point the array of startled, confused and/or downright worried faces - as, without explanation, around a quarter of the audience began howling manically - was a hoot.

The solo singer / songwriter set from Holly Carter that followed was considerably less of a hoot, though engrossing. Despite recent controversy regarding politics at music festivals, Plunger didn’t hear any statements beyond general "Times are hard" or environmental concerns (but we may not have been paying attention!) Holly’s set of originals and old protest anthems was the most political thing all weekend. From traditional numbers like the allegorical Samson And Delilah or Joe Hill’s union firebrand-waving Where The Fraser River Flows to her own Stetson Kennedy (for the man who made the KKK a national laughing stock) and What You See (inspired by the work of the social realist photographer Tish Murtha) there was a good deal of political points being made. As a self-declared Leadbelly fangirl, Holly also included two by her hero: John Henry (“I’ll forgive his obsession with his subject’s women”) and Stella, which afforded her a chance for some fine jazzy finger-picking.

Heading back to the Barn in the twilight we caught the grand finale of the Bob Dylan Tribute at the Peacock, a particularly rousing version of Like A Rolling Stone, with (among others) The Vagaband’s Jose McGill and Mark Howes, Ella Spencer, Chris Murphy, Mick & Stretch, Chet Lyster et al. giving it their all - fantastic!

The improbably named Prinz Grizzley & His Beargaroos [below] brought their eclectic brand of Americana from the mountains of Austria. A mix of tub-thumping, everybody-up-on-the-benches, good-time stomps and surprisingly sophisticated low-register 3 or 4 part male harmonies, not a common sound in Americana… or much else to be fair! Chris Comper (the man behind the Prinz Grizzley persona) has a pretty spectacular voice, ranging from a low mumble through a gravel-and-molasses drawl to an impressive falsetto, all of which were on show on the slow waltz Wide Open Country. It might be our imagination, but we're sure he came close to yodelling on one number…

The ontological debate on ‘what is Americana?’ reached its culmination in the Barn Saturday headliners. The Errol Linton Band were the UK entrants in the 2024 International (and indeed European) Blues Challenge events, having previously won the UK Blues Challenge in 2023. Their own bio references Mississippi and New Orleans; 'funky stuff'; 'blues with a reggae tinge and jazz flavours'; while the Guardian has described him as “the figurehead for modern British blues". Plunger rest their case, m’lud… However there was no doubting the proficiency and competence of their performance and the large crowd spilling out of the Barn and across the yard lapped it up so does it really matter?

Still, we did take this as our cue to depart for an early(ish) bath so we could be back at crack of sparrows for Sunday.

#maverick festival #americana #Easton Farm Park #country #country rock #alt country

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