#tramps like us

[thecreelhouse]

tramps like us

Paring: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Summary: You finally marry your best friend, and it’s more than you could ever dream of.

Includes: tooth rotting fluff, language, alcohol & weed mentions, no y/n- reader is still affectionately called Sunshine by her friends and Darlin’ by Gator, some hurt/comfort (heavy on the comfort), pre-wedding antics, The Big Day™️, honeymoon, smut (mostly soft), and a few surprises in the wedding scene 🥰

WC: 17.8k (not sorry)

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

A note regarding details, characterization, etc. (since some of y’all can’t be fucked to ignore fics you don’t care for)

A/N: When I started writing TLU a year ago, this was the chapter that kinda kicked it all off. This fic was only supposed to be a sweet lil’ one shot, but I couldn’t stop writing, couldn’t stop adding to this. It’s bittersweet, but this is the second to last chapter of this series! these last two are my sickeningly fluffy take on a happy ending for Gator, and I’m so glad I wasn’t the only one who wanted some kind of positive outcome for him. I don’t want to say too much more and spoil anything, but thank you to anyone who has stuck with this from the start, or even if you’re a new reader— I appreciate all y’all and all the love and support you’ve given this fic. love y’all sm, happy reading 💖🥹

chapter 11 ✧.┊

I don’t mind - defeater

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

⋆｡♪ and I don’t mind / if we take our time / ‘cause I’m all yours / if you’re all mine ♬₊˚.

“Y’know, we don’t have to drink tonight.”

Gator throws a puzzled look over his shoulder from his spot by the stove; he insisted on waking up early to make pancakes for everyone, which meant you were dragged downstairs to help.

“Huh? Why not? It’s New Years Eve.”

“Uh, your eye?” Frowning, you sit up from your spot at the kitchen island. “I know it’s okay sometimes, but is— would it bother you? ‘Cause I can totally stay sober tonight— actually, scratch that, I will be sober tonight. Ain’t fun leavin’ you out.”

“S’okay, haven’t drank in awhile, ‘member?” He softens over your concern when it doesn’t fade. Turning the burner off, he turns to face you. “I’ve been careful, I promise.”

You nod blankly, distracted by how cute he looks; gaze still shrouded in sleep, with a reassuring smile and bed head, untying the apron over his sweats—  hell must’ve frozen over for him to even wear one.

“Darlin’, you good?”

“Just never thought I’d see the day where you’re wearin’ an apron,” You tease, wandering over to him to wrap your arms around his waist. “S’cute. You tryin’ to be my house husband, or something?”

“Fuck off, I didn’t wanna get batter on my clothes!” He grumbles into a laugh, returning the hug. “You’d like that, huh? Me bein’ your stay-at-home trophy husband?” The two of you fall into a fit of giggles and snickers. “Gotta marry me first, I think.”

“Next year sounds good, I think. You free?”

“Think so,” He grins sleepily down at you. “Next year’s right around the corner, anyway—“

“Oh my god, you two are disgusting.”

Gator’s face drops into annoyance, while you bury your face into his shoulder, muffling more noises of amusement.

“Yeah, mornin’ to you too, Ty.” He flips the younger man off, but you pull his hand down.

“Be nice!”

“Nah, s’all good,” Ty mumbles tiredly, grabbing cold brew from the fridge. “Your fiancé is a shitbird, anyway.”

“Hey, that’s my insult—“

“Not anymore,” he sing-songs with a grin.

“This might be worse than when Ivy tried making ‘girlie pop’ a thing,” you mutter.

“It is, just ain’t a thing for you old farts.”

Now you’re the one flipping Ty off, but he just snickers, shuffling away to the table with his coffee. Gator glances at you, holding a finger up to wait a minute while he slips away from your grasp. 

You already know where this is going; Gator had something important to ask Ty, just never found the time or place for it. Now seems like a good time as any, before everyone else wakes up. So, you back off, give them space, busy yourself with gathering tableware for breakfast.

“Got a question for ya’,” He sits in a chair next to Ty, whose eyes grow wide.

“Should I be worried?”

“Huh? No, s’good— Jesus, did you already drink all that?” Gator nods to the empty coffee cup in front of Ty, and the younger man shrugs. 

“Yeah, probably shouldn’t have, ‘cause it makes my brain feel like it’s vibrating with all that caffeine—“ Ty snorts, waving his hands. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Gator avoids making eye contact, weirdly nervous to ask, even has a second guess or two; he leans back in the chair, slumping slightly, hands folded over himself while twiddling his thumbs. “Would you, uh,” He rubs his nose; a nervous habit he’s picked up over time, since you were kids. “So… for the wedding… you wanna be my best man?”

Ty cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at Gator, who dares to look back. “Is this a prank?”

“What? Dude, no way, m’serious.”

The younger of the two’s insecure side begins to creep out, “Why me?”

Without skipping a beat, Gator answers with a shrug, “‘Cause you’re my bro.”

A snort slips out of Ty, though it isn’t in mockery, more in disbelief. “Like your bestie, or an actual brother?”

Gator huffs out a laugh, brows scrunching together. “Both?”

“This ain’t like… a pity thing, is it? You’re not doing this to absolve your guilt for being a shithead back in the day, right?”

The older man can’t even be upset with Ty for asking; based off past stories Gator’s opened up about, his instinct to be cautious is understandable.

“Nope. M’askin’ ‘cause I trust ya’, and aside from Sunshine over there, who’s definitely listening—“

“I am not!” You holler from the room over, cringing at the way you give yourself away.

“Uh-huh, anyway.” The two men snicker as Gator finishes his thought, “You’re my best friend, too. Ya’ also didn’t need to give me a chance to turn shit around, but you and everyone else did—“

“Oh, christ, you really got soft moving out here,” Ty grins, like the little shithead he is, hopping out of his chair to tackle Gator in a bear hug. He huffs out an “Oof!” but hugs back with a relieved smile. Ty finally responds, “Hell yeah I’ll be your best man.”

“Yeah?!”

“There’s one problem though,” Ty backs off, with a grimace and a shrug. “I dunno how to tie a bowtie.”

Throwing his head back against the chair, Gator laughs heartily; it’s a sound you’ve grown to adore since he’s moved in with you, never hearing it back home.

“Man, I don’t fuckin’ know how to either.”

“You’re both lucky I know how to,” Miles snarks with a grin, strolling into the dining room. 

Gator smirks, “You wanna be a fancy ass groomsman?”

“Oh, absolutely.” He pulls out a chair for himself across the other two. “I’m all in.”

Gator overhears Ivy in the kitchen, quietly scolding you, “Girl, don’t— ew— don’t cry over the pancakes, you’re gonna make ‘em all damp, and shit.” 

The beautiful sound of his genuine laugh echos through the house.

•·················•·················•

Twenty minutes to midnight, Bea’s annual New Year’s Eve party began to wind down; you and your friends are cozied up in the living room, watching the livestream on TV as it displays waves of tourists crammed together in Times Square. Bea, Opal, and their friends were scattered throughout the kitchen and dining room.

Drinks in hand, uncomfortable shoes kicked off and long forgotten, everyone’s still dressed nicely while cuddling pillows and curled up under blankets. The broadcast drones on as background noise, until Gator is mesmerized by the televised joy, realizing how close he is now to the place he always watched on New Year’s Eve growing up.

Well, more like when the two of you had sleepovers as kids, staying up past bedtime to watch. You’d stare in awe at the fuzzy, black and white image of the ball dropping with the countdown, tucked under one blanket with his portable TV; the antenna poked upward, almost pitching a tent shape under the fabric, while he kept the volume barely audible as you’d both pretend to already be asleep. It was one of your little shared traditions, a lifeline to reality while you both were drowning in closed-minded, abusive, religious bullshit. 

“So…” he clears his throat before asking curiously, “y’all don’t go to see the ball drop at midnight?”Everyone stares at him like he’s grown three heads. “Why are we watchin’ it on TV instead of watching it there?”

Bless his sheltered, midwestern heart.

“Oh…” You shake your head, cringing. “Sweetheart, no—“

“What? Ew, fuck no,” Jinx grimaces from her spot on the floor, while Ty, who’s sprawled out on the infamous green couch, barks out a sharp laugh.

“I’d rather be straight than ever deal with that touristy disaster.”

You shoot a bewildered stare at him. “Those two things aren’t even related—“

“But it’s true!”

Ivy gags, “If I were to ever set foot in Times Square, it’d be against my own damn will.”

“Heard,” Miles nods over to her. “Couldn’t fuckin’ pay me all the money in the world to stand out in that cold for hours.”

“In one spot, mind you.” Flor adds, “If you leave to find somewhere to piss, you’re screwed.”

Gator slumps next to you, muttering, “S’gotta be fun when they throw all that confetti though…”

“Until someone’s gotta clean it up,” you sigh, glancing over at him, watching the childlike wonder drain from his face. You can’t blame him for wanting to experience life, even through the tourist traps; your lives were bleak with not much to look forward to growing up.  

There’s an urgency split between making up for lost time in his earlier years, and the challenge to squeeze as many memories as possible in the limited amount of time he might have before losing his eyesight completely. 

 A compromise crosses your mind; you bump your shoulder into his, nodding to the stairs. “C’mon, the view’s not so bad from the roof.”

•·················•·················•

By no means is it quiet on the roof; the city is alive, buzzing with parties inside and out; laughter echoing out of windows while drunk resolutions are being made, most likely ditched when the morning comes, noisemakers already going off before the clock strikes into the new year.

You stumble up a few steps, definitely drunk, tugging Gator to the door where he holds you upright.

“M’cuttin’ ya’ off,” Gator swipes the champagne flute from your hand, finishing the drink off while you grumble in protest. 

“Now I got nothin’ to toast with,” you frown, exaggerated by the warm, bubbly alcohol in your body. He sets the empty glass near the door, thankful it’s plastic. “New year’s is cancelled.”

“Can’t cancel a whole year, Darlin’,” he quips, hand in yours as you lead him to the edge of the roof, leaning against the railing. “Glad there’s a fuckin’ guardrail, your clumsy, drunk ass should not be up here right now.”

“What time is it?” You ignore his comment, giddy with excitement to show him something new. 

“Got three minutes,” Gator’s arms wind around from behind while he sways in his spot with you. “What’re ya’ showin’ me?”

“Wait for it!” You scold him, giggling. “Okay, so I know it’s not the ball drop, and maybe someday we can go— on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“We book one of those fancy-ass hotel rooms with a view, and watch it from inside.” You turn in his embrace, giggling as you feel warmth from the champagne flood along your face. “I promise, you do not want to watch it from Times Square on the ground.”

“Alright, alright, I hear ya’,” he softly laughs, hand reaching out to caress your cheek before pinching it. You swat it away, playfully glaring at him. “Think you should give up bein’ a brat for the new year.”

“Oh, please, you’d miss it too much.” You step closer, shivering from the cold. “Anyway, this view’s pretty alright. First year I was here, I came up on my own,” you turn back to face the city, lights glittering with celebration in nearly every window. “All I could think of was how I wish I could show you this. I wished you were here with me. It reminded me of the sleepovers we had, sneaking off with your lil’ TV—“

“I was just thinkin’ ‘bout that earlier!” Gator chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “We were pretty sneaky.”

“Dunno how we never got caught,” you snort, smiling warmly as his embrace strengthens around you. “I know it ain’t the same, but…”

Countdowns begin pouring out of homes and bars, from the street to rooftops, joining in a symphony of anticipation throughout Brooklyn.

“Ten… nine…eight…”

“I hope we can make a new tradition,” your hands reach up to cup his face.

“Seven… six… five…”

“We can make as many of ‘em as ya’ want, Darlin’.” Gator gently moves your hands away, falling to his shoulders while he pulls you in close. His nose brushes against yours, licking his lips when he realizes this is about to be a first for you two— a New Year’s Eve kiss.

“Four… three… two… one…”

“Always wanted t’do this, even when we were kids,” he murmurs against your lips, while a chorus of cheers ring out through the neighborhood.

“Happy new year!”

Gator loses himself in the kiss, because there’s no rush, there’s no limit— you’re his, he’s yours, with a shared life ahead, hopefully one that is long, and happy.

Thunderous booming sounds startle the two of you apart as fireworks are set off throughout the city.

“Holy shit…” He scans the skyline; fireworks spark up near the Brooklyn Bridge on the water, across the neighborhood, and over to Prospect Park. It’s not long until more illumination follows, scattered throughout various parks and along the river. The city is brighter than he’s ever seen it, glittering with celebratory bursts of light.

You turn back around with a big grin, glancing back to see that childlike wonder back on Gator’s expression. 

One year ago, Gator was regretting his decision to stay behind, while you moped and worried over him during the entire party. You can’t help but compare moments as time passes, grateful he’s here, he’s alive, and not just alive, but living. You’ve never seen such genuine happiness in him the way you have this past year.

“Hang on,” his hands slide over your ears, explanation muffled, “Don’t wanna hurt your ears.” Gator takes a huge breath, shouting over your head at the top of his lungs, “Happy new year!”

A few distant shouts around the block return the sentiment, leaving Gator in a bright grin.

You never want to go another New Year’s Eve— or any holiday, for that matter— without him ever again.

•·················•·················•

While counting down the days to your wedding, it’s frustrating how quickly and slowly time passes at once. The slower days, without much planning, go by far too slow; the days spent picking a venue, a dress, sending invites out, deciding on a theme, cake, and little details in between— you’re desperate for more hours to not feel so crunched for time.

So when it came time to plan for a bachelorette party, you weren’t interested, nor did Gator find the idea of a bachelor party very appealing, either.

Your friends, on the other hand, couldn’t let this go for either of you.

“You only get married once!” Flor protests, arms out with fervor as she paces the sidewalk in front of the house’s stoop.

“Well, if you stay married, that is—“ Gator jokingly shoves Ty, narrowing his stare at the younger man while they share a step. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Sheesh, why do y’all love pushing me ‘round after my jokes? I sense a pattern of abuse here.”

Jinx rolls her eyes, turning to you on the bottom step, legs outstretched across the concrete. “Seriously, you don’t want to do anything before the wedding?”

“Well… I don’t know. I don’t wanna be hungover the day we’re getting married,” You scrunch your lips as your brows furrow in disapproval. “Not much fun in that.”

“Speak for yourself,” Miles chimes in, perched at the top step, mischief written all over his face. He turns to the other men, “Gator, we’re celebrating, don’t be a stick in the mud.”

“A stick in the— what are you, some grandpa?” Ty snarks, dodging a playful elbow thrown his way. “See! Abuse! I’m being hate crime’d.”

Ivy calls out as she walks down the sidewalk, coming home from a long shift at the hospital, “That’s not a hate crime, Tyler—“

“And now the full name shit? I’m reporting you all.”

You snort, “To who?”

“Uh, your fiancé? Mr. I am the law—“

Gator grimaces, snarking, “Like cops give a shit about hate crimes.”

Ivy cackles, applauding with a golf clap, “Damn, Sunshine, you really corrupted him, huh?” 

You shrug, “Maybe. Anyway… yeah, I’m good on not having a party.”

“What if we had the party two days before?” Flor offers, while Ivy gasps and high fives her, as if that’s the most brilliant idea she’s heard all day. “That way no one’s hungover for the wedding!”

“I’ll kill y’all,” you grumble.

“Like fuck you will,” Jinx snickers with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “We’re doing it.”

•·················•·················•

Two days before the wedding, the group splits up into their respective parties, off to celebrate before the big day. 

You had no clue what trouble Miles and Ty had planned for Gator, but he promised many times the night before to behave, much to your amusement.

While you brushed your teeth before bed, Gator continued to ramble nervously, trying to prove he’d behave for whatever the guys had planned. He paused, toothbrush in his mouth, waving his hands, “Oh, and I told ‘em, no strippers—“ “Gate, babe, I don’t care what y’all do.” You rinsed your mouth out, bumping your hip into his teasingly. “Just don’t, like, get arrested for being dumbasses somehow. I’d rather not reschedule the wedding to bail you out of jail.” Gator snorted, spitting into the sink.“It’d be kinda funny though. Me bein’ in jail.” “You say that like you were ever a good cop,” you retorted, grinning in the mirror at him. You backed out of the room, watching as his jaw fell to feign offense.  “You’re such a brat. C’mere,” he chased you out into the living room, tackling you on the couch to pin you down while you laughed and squirmed beneath him. 

By sunset, the week’s never-ending heatwave was finally easing up a bit; you and your bridal party decide to end the night on the rooftop.

They surprised you with a manicure, followed by some shopping, and bar hopping; despite your initial protests, you had a good time, appreciating the time and effort they put into celebrating with you.

“It’s not too late to go back out, Sunshine.” Ivy’s got a joint in hand, sinking into the massive bean bag she dragged up the stairs. “You sure you’re okay with a quiet rest of your night?”

You shrug, relaxed while reclining on a beach chair. Ivy passes the joint to you, and you gratefully accept it. “I’d rather hang here, if it’s cool,” you take a hit, exhaling up to the sky’s hues of oranges and pinks. “I’m just kinda antsy I think over the wedding.” She nods in understanding while you pass the joint over to Jinx, who’s cozying up next to Ivy.

Everyone in the house has been holding their breath over those two, impatiently waiting for one to admit their feelings to the other. Flor shares a knowing glance with you, observant over your two lovesick friends.

You’ll worry about it later. Right now, you’re going over excessive and unnecessary lists in your mind for the wedding.

“It’s gonna be great, Sunshine, everything’s gonna work out,” Jinx assures, voice stiff before she exhales the smoke from her lungs. She’s about to hand it back to Ivy, when Flor clears her throat dramatically. “Oh, my bad, Flor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Flor snatches the joint away from Jinx with a harmless eye roll. “You two are somethin’ else.”

“Thanks for today, y’all.” You feel the tension leave your body as the high sets in. It’s not too much, just enough to relax. “I needed it more than I wanted to admit. M’lucky to call y’all my best friends.”

The door to the rooftop bursts open before anyone can reply, and the sight of Gator and the others stumbling through like idiots grabs everyone’s attention.

His face lights up when he spots you, murmuring something along the lines of “hey, s’my wife!” dragging his feet with the dopiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. 

“Safe to say you had a good time?” Gator attempts to squish himself next to you on the chair, but when that fails, he lazily flops over onto you instead. Chuckling, you ask, “How drunk are you?”

“M’not drunk, you’re drunk” he mumbles, face buried in your shoulder. “Missed ya’, Darlin’.”

“Uh-huh, sure you’re not…” You snort, running your hands through his hair. “I missed you too, Gate.” The motion causes him to sit up, intending on smiling your way, when you notice how red his eyes are. “Oh my god. Are you high?”

When he grins, his eyes are practically shut from how stoned he is, eliciting giggles out of you.

Gator tries shushing you, but it comes out loudly, rendering it useless. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Can’t believe your first time getting stoned wasn’t with me,” you exaggerate a gasp. You’re not mad at all, far from it actually; if anything, it feels good to know he trusts his new friends enough. He feels comfortable here. “S’okay, I’m a lil’ high too,” you whisper, giggling.

He grins, yet quickly loses track of the conversation, glancing around the rooftop in search of something. “Where’s the… the bed?”

Your brows furrow with a bewildered laugh, “… Our bed? It’s in the apartment—“ 

“No, the fluffy one.”

“The… the fluffy one…. What?” Stifling yourself from falling into a fit of giggles, you realize he’s too stoned for words right now.

“Yeah, s’the one that you plug in, and it gets bigger— you know! Like the one back home, when you sat on—“

You slap a hand over his mouth, grateful your friends are too caught up in their own conversations.

“Christ, I can only imagine how much shit you’ve said tonight,” you sigh, gently pushing him off of you. “I’ll get the air mattress, don’t talk for like…. A minute. And don’t move. I don’t need you tumbling off the roof, or something.”

Once the bed’s set up, you gently roll Gator off the chair and onto the mattress, curling up next to him. He sighs, content, body melding against yours as he relaxes. 

“I only got one problem with this place,” he murmurs while his arms wind around you. He’s pretty cuddly with you on a regular basis, now that his guard has been down for ages, but he’s clingy while stoned, and it’s amusing, at the very least.

You kiss the top of his head before resting your chin on it, while he ducks into your neck. “Hm… And what would that be?”

“Can’t see the stars out here,” he mutters, pouting against your skin. “I love this place though. Love you. I love our friends—“

“Oh, you’re a real sap when you’re high, huh?”

Gator drones on happily, “I even love the mail guy, he’s great, deadass—“

You sit back, narrowing your gaze, “Hang on, did you just say dead—“

“And I love the bookstore, and the cats, and I love not bein’ angry all the time, and I love you, really fuckin’ do— hey, hey, we’re gettin’ married in two days, y’know that?”

“Shit, that soon?” You tease, and he sits up in a panic, but eventually realizes you’re joking; he melts back into a dopey smile, chuckling.

“You’re a brat,” Gator blows a raspberry on your neck, tickling you. You swat at him, but he holds you close. “My favorite brat.”

“If anyone’s a brat right now,” you giggle, grateful the tickling is short-lived. “It’s you.” 

“Mhm, s’true.” He settles against you again, sighing happily. “Can’t wait to give you a surprise. A few of ‘em.”

Your eyes jolt open, “Surprises? Plural? What surprises?”

“Can’t talk ‘bout it.” Gator mumbles, cheek squished against your shoulder. “Can’t ruin it. S’gotta be perfect for my girl.”

“But you just—“

“You gon’ tell me ‘bout your day?” He’s the worst at switching subjects, but you sigh, and let it slide. Worrying about the wedding is enough stress, you’ll just ignore what he said about these so called ‘surprises’ and move on.

“Fine, fine…”

Gator sits up, damn dopey smile still plastered on his face while he listens intently, looking at you with all the love in the world.

You feel the tension finally fall away, like always, when you’re with him.

•·················•·················•

The Picnic House in Prospect Park, though a little big for your tiny gathering, is a pretty venue. You would’ve gone with a rooftop wedding somewhere smaller, but Gator insisted on having that damn bouncy house.

It was a relief to have the outdoor ceremony start at dusk, but getting ready in the heat was driving you nuts. Thankfully, your friends in both parties set everything up, like the disposable cameras for the guests; though you had a photographer booked, it wasn’t for long, and you preferred the idea of candid shots from your friends and family. They had the vintage handkerchiefs placed neatly on the chairs, for tears of joy. Celestial-esque fairy lights hung down from the tree branches nearby, matching the theme. You even had burnt CDs with yours and Gator’s favorite love songs as party favors, relishing in the nostalgia of sneaking playlists back and forth on CDs as kids.

Every little detail planned was ready to go, and should have you feeling at ease, but this heat is getting to everyone.

“Jesus,” Ivy groans, fanning herself aggressively. “Why couldn’t the heatwave start tomorrow?”

“Hopefully it’ll settle when the sun sets, like last night,” Jinx groans, collapsing into a chair nearby. “I fuckin’ hate this.”

Even with the air conditioner on, the humidity is out of control today.

Pair the extreme heat with the joy, excitement, and rush of knowing you’re about to marry your childhood best friend, it all makes you lightheaded. You reach out to steady yourself against the wall, catching Ivy’s attention. 

Rushing over, she slides a chair from the vanity over to you, pushing you to sit. She checks your forehead immediately, and you swat her hand away, “I don’t have a fever,” you gasp.

“I’ll grab some water,” Jinx runs out of the room.

“Well, someone’s gotta be that guy and check.” Ivy crouches down, searching your expression. “What’s goin’ on, Sunshine?”

Avoiding the question, you admire how stunning your best friend, and maid of honor, is. Neither you, nor Gator, cared about uniformity among bridal party outfits, deciding as long as it was a deep, navy blue, everyone should wear what they felt best in.

“You look incredible, Ives,” Your voice wavers, face scrunching as you stave off tears. “Flor and Jinx, too. I have the prettiest friends in the world.”

You sound similar to a drunk girl complimenting strangers in the bathroom, but you’re sober; the rambling helps keep away the anxiety from dragging you under.

“Oh, shush, look at you!” Ivy beams, hands grasping yours, gently shaking them for a moment. “Love and happiness looks good on ya’, Sunshine.”

The silly comment breaks you; your breaths are shallow, tears are beginning to build in your eyes, lost for words as you resort to shaking your head.

Returning with a water bottle, Jinx hands it over, but you push it away. “Babe, it’ll help.”

Flor comes back in and immediately notices your tears threatening to fall, “Don’t you dare cry yet, we just finished that eyeliner—”

“Flor! Not now!” Ivy scolds her, leaving Flor with an apologetic look. Without thinking much into it, Ivy demands the two of them as she stands, “Someone get Gator, please?”

“Ives… isn’t that bad luck to see one another before the big reveal, or whatever?” Jinx has always been wary of superstitions, despite her name; she’s not taking any risks on your special day.

You hiccup as you try holding soft cries back, tilting your head up to the ceiling, hoping that’ll help keep the tears at bay, but you just look like the world’s most ridiculous bride instead.

 “Ty?” You didn’t see Flor dial Ty, but you can hear the conversation, and her shitty attempt at keeping her voice hushed. “Are you guys done getting ready? Cool, awesome, uh… Can you tell Gator to come here? Ye- yes, here, where our wonderful bride-to-be is— ”

That cracks a tiny smile on your face, but only for a moment, before panic takes hold again. 

“Give me that,” Ivy plucks the phone out of Flor’s hand, “Tyler, if you and Miles don’t bring Gator over, you’re- yes, we know it’s supposedly bad luck, just- she’s not feeling well, so fuck bad luck, the two of them can close their eyes or something, but—  oh my god, little fucker hung up on me.”

The three of them vent and rant between comforting you, too.

Flor comes over, tilting your head gently forward. “Sunshine, you’re gonna get your neck stuck like that and miss your vows.” The tiniest, briefest laugh escapes you, but a sniffle overshadows it.

You hate how worked up you have everyone, hate to break a silly tradition over your tears, but you can’t pinpoint what’s wrong, and other than yourself, the only person who knows you best is Gator.

Caught up in your spiraling thoughts, you don’t hear Gator rush in, asking what’s wrong. Nor do you see the hilarious sight of Miles’ hands slapped over Gator’s face, to which he grumbles, “Miles, man, I have one eye. There’s nothin’ to cover on this side.”

That begins to pull you out of your panicked daze with a pathetically sad laugh, but Ivy turns you to face away from Gator; Ty and Miles help him into a chair behind you, so the two of you are back to back.

“No peeking!” Ty warns, taking the superstitious tradition seriously. “We’ll be back, okay?”

Gator leans his head back onto yours as the group shuffles out, shutting the door behind them. “What’s goin’ on, Darlin’?” His voice is soft, soothing, and you can feel your heartbeat begin to slow, ever so slightly.

“Hi, baby,” Your response comes out shattered and raspy. He reaches his hand back to find yours; it takes a moment while grabbing at thin air, but once he feels your hand, he laces your fingers together. You shudder a sound between a laugh and a soft, breathy cry. 

“Are you okay?” His thumb rubs against yours slowly. “I wanna hold ya’ right now and say fuck it, but they all got me believing this damn superstition.”

“Even Jinx won’t take any chances,” You murmur, sniffling. “It must be serious.” Gator laughs softly, and your heart melts at the familiar sound. “You got no clue how bad I wanna see you right now, too. This is so fuckin’ stupid.”

“If either of us were better liars, I’d say let's go for it, but y’know someone’s gonna notice.” Gator jokes, squeezing your hand. “Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You’re quiet for a moment, because what were you upset about? Mouth moving faster than your mind, you blurt out, “What if you regret this?”

It’s almost enough to make Gator spin around, but he restrains himself. “Regret what? Marrying you? Darlin’, there ain’t a doubt in my mind about us.”

 “You’re not s- scared?”

Gator laughs nervously. “I’m scared outta mind, I panicked earlier thinkin’ you’d be the one regretting this.” You shake your head wildly, so comically, he reaches back to try holding your head still. “Hey, don’t ruin your hair, or Flor’s gonna kill us both.”

You laugh as another cry slips through, unable to joke back when another thought takes over. “What if you end up hating me? What if we fall apart?” The question stems from a shared fear, it seems. One he asked the the night he came home. “Or if we become miserable after the honeymoon phase wears off? What if you feel stuck, or—”

“Hey, deep breaths for me. C’mon, in…” Gator encourages you to put your thoughts on pause as he breathes with you, tone gentle, soothing. “… Out. That’s it, Darlin’, you’re okay. We’re okay.”

He guides your breath a few more times before responding to your snowballing thoughts. 

“Remember what I told you in the nurs—” He catches himself quickly, avoiding the sensitive language,“— in the spare room? If it’s somethin’ we both want, I’ll take the risk in a heartbeat, ‘cause it’s worth it when it’s with you.”

“God, Gator, I was trying not to cry so much before our vows,” The end of your sentence makes your lip wobble. In the softest, smallest voice, you state the obvious “We’re getting married.”

“Yeah, we are.” You can hear the half smile in his gentle response, but then he falls silent for a moment.

“Gator? Are you alright?”

He doesn’t answer, focus elsewhere while he scrolls on his phone, “Okay, I don’t know who started that fuckin’ superstition and which one of our friends believed it, but this one article says— ”

 “Are you fucking— are you looking this up right now?” You burst into a fit of laughter, feeling your tears slow down.

“I had to know! It’s just a dumb tradition some folks stick with.” He laughs with you, shifting in his chair. Knowing the truth, he’s even more antsy to see you. “… Should we wait?”

“Oh, fuck no,” you sniffle, “Get up.” 

Bunching up your dress, you’re careful to make sure you don’t step on the tulle and rip it as you get up; Gator laughs and stands with you.

In some sort of corny, cliche fashion, the two of you turn around at the same time, smiles of admiration appearing on both of your faces.

Your breath hitches in your chest at the sight of Gator, your Gator, dressed in the classiest black tuxedo, dark navy blue dress shirt, and a boutonnière made up of black, dark navy, and white flowers pinned on his jacket. His hair is slicked back, almost like he used to wear it,  but with far less gel. Finally, you notice the simple, small constellation lapel pin opposite of the flowers. Your birth constellation.

“Did we really—” You tug your necklace, matching his pin, but with his birth constellation. 

The two of you laugh together again, Gator making some comment about how “This is definitely Ivy’s idea,” while you roll your eyes playfully, “She fucking would.”

Gator’s gaze is locked on you with overwhelming adoration; whether you’ve just rolled out of bed, or you’re dolled up how you are now, he thinks— he knows— you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.

With a celestial, cream colored, sleeveless dress, overlaid by dark navy tulle, scattering of sparkling thread in golds and silvers, woven to look like stars in the sky— it all accentuates the way you’ve always shone so bright to him. 

You look Gator over again, noticing his shoes, “You wore your boots?” He blushes, second guessing his choice, until you tug your dress up to show your favorite pair of combat boots included in your outfit, too. 

“Jesus, we’re so corny,” He laughs, shaking his head. He can’t look away from you, wouldn’t want to look away. With tears welling up, he softly says, “You look beautiful, Darlin’.”

You’re just as teary-eyed, smirking, “You don’t look half-bad yourself, Tillman.”

He huffs out a soft laugh before opening his arms, “C’mere.”

You throw your arms around him, resting on his shoulders, muttering, “I gotta watch where I put my face, or you’ll be wearing it, too.” 

Ivy flings the door open— because of fucking course she would— snapping a photo on a disposable film camera, startling the two of you apart.

“I knew you’d turn around—“

“It’s not real!” Gator shouts in defense, sending you into a fit of giggles.

“Huh?”

“That shitty superstition. We’re fine, and I hate that y’all had us believing it too,” You grumble, flipping her off. Gator pushes your middle finger down.

“Don’t be a dick, Darlin’.”

“Oh my god, since when are you the kindness police?”

“Anyway, glad I left my phone behind, at least one of us got your first reactions on camera.” Ivy marches past the two of you to grab her phone, nestled away on the vanity, among Flor’s makeup strewn about. She stops recording, smirking at the two of you. “I know you both way too well by now.”

You snort, looking up at Gator. “See? You’re doomed forever now. She’s never gonna let either of us live this down.”

“Damn right I won’t.”

“Hey, Sun—“ Bea stops in her tracks at the sight of you and Gator together before the ceremony. She points between the two of you, “Isn’t this bad luck?”

“No!” You cackle, “Oh my god, why did y’all believe this?”

“You kids had Opal and I worried about it before our wedding!” 

“Okay, after tonight,” You shove your hands on your hips, narrowing your eyes, “We’re getting to the bottom of whoever the hell believed that superstition in the first place.”

“Alright, sure, kid.” Bea laughs it off before holding her arm out to you. Confused you glance down before back at her. “C’mon, Sunshine, there’s someone here who wants to see you.”

Your brows scrunch together, puzzled, as you hesitantly hook your arm into hers. You look back at Gator, who gives a knowing nod. He waits a beat before following the two of you out, wanting to give space.

The hallway is quiet, empty. It feels as if the oxygen in your lungs is sucked out immediately, finding the last person you ever thought you’d see ever again; your biological mother, anxiously waiting on a bench in the main hallway. 

You freeze, just feet away from her, heart torn between swelling with joy, or dropping into the pit of your stomach as you lock eyes with her. Bea gives you a quick side squeeze, whispering, “It’s okay, I’ll be right over here if you need.”

Bea’s arm slips out of yours while you can’t tear your gaze away from your mother.

“You… you’re here?” Your voice sounds so small— you feel so small as trauma creeps up, like you’re a kid again, in trouble for god knows what; you’re waiting for your father to appear somewhere, ready to hurt you one way or another as your mother turns away, just like she always had.

But he’s miles away, behind bars, for good. Seeing your mother without him is bizarre, surreal; you’re unsure if you’ve ever had a moment alone with only her.  

As you step towards her, you pause, still giving her space as your breaths run shallow. She stands with tears in her eyes, restraining her emotions, holding back tears of relief to see you again, and on your wedding day, no less.

She reaches out to your face cautiously, ghosting a maternal, soothing touch on your skin; your name is whispered in disbelief with a tiny smile, one with hope for forgiveness. 

“Ma…” Your bottom lip wobbles as tears build in your eyes once more. You push her hand away, startling her with rejection at first, but you wrap your arms around her in a bone crushing hug. She relaxes into your embrace, completely shocked by your reaction.

“M’so sorry, sweet pea,” Her body shakes as she speaks, doing her best to suppress sobs. It had been years since she called you that, in the rare moments she actually showed her love. It twists your heart in more ways than one. “I was awful to ya’— you and Willow both. I’m so sorry for everythin’. That’ll never take that hurt away, but you deserve an apology at the very least. You deserve to know none of it was ever your fault.”

“If you make me cry this makeup off, Flor’s gonna kick my ass—“ 

You pull back, hand over your mouth out of habit when saying any word your parents disapproved of. Preparing to be scolded, your mother just gently reaches for your face, letting a sweet giggle slip away from her. 

Your emotions tug every which way, and you almost land into anger, but put your shoulder to the wheel and let go of the hurt.

Trauma’s one hell of a drug, but forgiveness is a hell of a lot stronger.

“Can’t remember the last time I heard ya’ laugh, Ma.” You sniffle through a smile, taking in the rare warmth of her own.

“Honestly, me neither, sweet pea.” She steps back, holding your hands in her frail ones as she takes a better look at your attire. “Look at you, kiddo. Ain’t ever seen a bride as stunnin’ as you.”

Bashfully, you grin, fanning at the tears begging to spill over from your eyes. “Who… who told you ‘bout the wedding?”

“Who do ya’ think?” She glances over your shoulder, and without even turning, you know she’s looking directly at Gator. “I’m sorry for showin’ up without tellin’ ya’—“

So that’s where the unsent invitation for your mother went.

“When we… when we heard about Linda, he wanted you here in the worst way, Ma. I wanted you here, I just was afraid. He encouraged me all the time to reach out, but I wasn’t sure if it was right—“

“You were protectin’ yourself, and I don’t blame ya’ for a second for leaving, cuttin’ me off, any of that.” She pulls a crumpled tissue from her pocket, blotting at her tears. “Shoulda’ left that rotten bastard the first chance I had. I was scared, for all of us, but that’s no excuse for what I said or did to you and Willow. You needed safety and love, and I don’t ever expect to be forgiven, but—“

“Ma, it’s okay. It will be okay.” There’s so much to talk about, so much to catch up on, to hash out, but not today. That can all be put on pause for yours and Gator’s special day. “One step at a time, alright? Right now, I- I’m just so happy you’re here.”

She wraps her arms around you tightly, embracing you and the moment of peace between you both.

“I am too, kiddo. I wish Lo was here, too.”

You nod, but a calm washes over you; long, long ago, you accepted the reality of your sister no longer on this earth. But there’s something new that fills your heart, a reassurance that things are in the right direction, on all fronts.

It feels ridiculous, but for a moment, you swear you can hear Willow’s voice, happily teasing you, “That damn wish finally came true, huh?”

“She’s always with us, Ma.” You give your mother a warm, knowing smile. You can’t resist adding an eye roll, hoping it staves off any emotional tears, “Plus, the lil’ bugger’s got the best seat in the house.”

“Whoa!” 

Pulling you and your mother from your reunion, you find Gator nearly tackled over by a small child. He’s laughing as he stumbles a bit, arms thrown around her; it’s Scotty.

“Tryin’ out for football or somethin’?” He jokes as she lets go with a shrug and a grin. 

“Hockey.”

“No shit?”

“Gator.”

The voice lightly warning him comes from Dorothy, warm smile growing along her features. This is the first time seeing her, her little family, since leaving home.

Wayne gently leads Scotty back, chuckling, “Hey, lets not kill your uncle on his wedding day, eh?”

Gator embraces Dot into a bear hug, one she gladly returns as she murmurs, “It’s good to see ya’, kid.”

Don’t cry yet, don’t cry yet, Flor will kick your ass before you’re married—

A hand on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts; you turn, facing your mother again. “Sweet pea, I got somethin’ for ya’.”

She opens her purse, handing over a photograph of you and Gator as kids; your hand covers your mouth while you gasp, joyful tears springing to your eyes. Gator breaks away from the others, coming up behind you to look over your shoulder, laughing at the memory.

“Holy shit…”

You’re no older than 7, running up the porch steps before you shoved a messy bouquet of wildflowers at Gator. Dirt crumbles off the fresh roots.“Here.” Puzzled, he pulls away from a picture he was drawing. He frowned, hesitantly grabbing the bundle of flowers from you. “Wha’s this for?” “You,” The response slipped out as a giggle; Gator didn’t follow.  “But… flowers aren’t for boys.” He looked torn as he blushed over the sweetness you exuded, while fighting it with his father’s usual ‘men don’t like ___’ speech echoing in his head. “I’m s’posed t’get them for you.” “S’okay, I won’t tell anyone.” As if on cue, your mothers spotted the two of you from inside the house before rushing out with a camera— they loved shoving those dang things in your faces, always chiding with a “You’ll be glad we took these someday!” Gator panicked as they came outside, pushing the flowers back to you. “Oh, honey, did you pick those for her? That’s so sweet.” “What a gentleman!” Gator blushed as your hand overlapped his, and you took the flowers back to save him from another lecture about masculinity. Even as a child, you knew something was off about the way his father tried raising him as a “real man”, and the way your mothers both bought into that nonsense.  When your eyes met, he smiled softly, silently thanking you. A flash went off, and the two of you turned to your mother, taking the photo, while Gator’s mom gushed over how cute the two of you were, and how excited they were to get that photo developed. As they walked back inside, Gator leaned close to your ear. “I’ll keep ‘em forever.” He threw his arms around you, squeezing tightly before putting a finger up to his lips in a “shhh” gesture; with the flowers under his jacket, he ran them up to his room, tucking them away in an old shoebox. 

Glancing at Gator, your mom adds, “Your mama always joked to keep that photo, then bring it out when the two of ya’ get married someday. I couldn’t help saving it.”

While your stare fixates on the photo, you’re interrupted by your mother handing you a small gift bag, with a giddy grin; you’ve never seen her this happy before. Puzzled, you shoot a perplexed expression.

“Ma, we don’t— that’s sweet of ya’, but we got the gift table—“

Gator leans in to your ear, murmuring, “This is one you’re gonna want before you walk down the aisle, Darlin’.” He kisses your temple, adding, “Oh, and don’t rip it open like ya’ do with Christmas presents.”

Bea’s snickering nearby, but you’re focused on giving Gator that same confused stare his way.

You’re cautious as you take the gift bag, opening it with even more meticulous care, to which Ivy, also near Bea, teases, “This century would be great, Sunshine.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m goin’, I’m—“ Your words hitch in your throat as you find a small bouquet of wildflowers— the flowers, from the photo of you and Gator as kids— dried and tied with a simple, silky, navy blue ribbon.

“How…” They’re in great condition, considering how much time has passed. “When you said you’d keep ‘em forever—“

“I meant it.”

“How did you keep them safe for so long?”

“In a hidin’ place so good, I nearly forgot about ‘em ‘til right before movin’ out here.” Gator soaks in your awe-struck expression. “Turns out, I stuck ‘em in a shoebox with some newspaper, and shoved that under a floorboard. I found ‘em on accident at the ranch.”

Your vision warps quite quickly with tears, happy ones, ready to fall—

“Sunshine, don’t you dare cry yet,” Flor hisses, breaking everyone into bursts of laughter, while you roll your eyes, fanning your face with your hand.

“I- I don’t understand… wasn’t the ranch taken over for evidence? How’d you get away with this?”

Gator gently nods towards your mother, who admits, “He asked me to keep ‘em safe for you, sweet pea.”

It settles in that Gator found these over one year ago. He reached out to your mother, while you weren’t on speaking terms, while you thought your bond was forever destroyed, and asked her to keep them safe.

And she did, for all that time, until today.

Never leaving your mother’s kind stare, the one you always longed for as a child, you ask with a wobbling voice, “Flor? How waterproof is this makeup?”

“Not waterproof enough for you to weep like a baby before the ceremony.”

“Flor, you might wanna invest in some heavy duty, waterproof makeup if you’re gonna keep working weddings,” Ty snarks, to which Flor elbows him.

As the excitement floats down, Bea reads the room with ease, gently shooing everyone out the door. “C’mon, you guys should find your seats. We gotta get things goin’!” She grins warmly at you, Gator, and your mother, following the others out. 

“… Where was dad during all of this?”

“Sucked up in Roy’s downfall,” Gator mutters smugly. “So I—“

Ty pokes his head back in, waving Gator over, “Man, c’mon!”

While your mom steps back, Gator grabs your hand, squeezing gently. “See you on the other side, Darlin’.” He lifts your hand to his lips, leaving a gentle, lingering kiss before letting go.

Bea returns, “Ready to hit the aisle?”

 Your mother takes the hint to find her seat, and gives a quick hug, “I’ll let you get ready—“

“Wait,” You glance between your Ma, and Bea— both so important to you. Both motherly figures, one by blood, the other, fate. 

There’s so much to unravel with your birth mother, trauma to unpack for years to come. Tonight, though, that all can wait. You feel safe, since your father’s nowhere near here; there are no ulterior motives with your mother. She never had any. She was just held under the toxic weight of your abusive father, and that doesn’t excuse the hurt she left behind, too, but for tonight, you can forgive.

For right now, you can forget the suffering; you’ve lived enough of your life in pain. There are much more important memories to be made, and life is too short to spend this special day wallowing in the past.

“Can you… will you both walk me down the aisle?”

While Bea warmly smiles, your mother is caught off guard.

“Oh I— I don’t think I have the right to— this is your big day, sweet pea—“

“If Sunshine’s asking, I’d say, you have every right to.” Bea backs you up, adding, “If you’re comfortable, of course.”

You’re led down the aisle by both motherly figures, arms linked with one on either side of you while you gingerly clutch the bouquet of dried flowers Gator saved for you.

For us.

How lucky you are, to walk down the aisle with your birth mother, one who came back to make things right, even if better late than never; even luckier, to have the mother of your present, the one you crossed paths with by sheer fate, the one who encouraged you to find your true self, and rebuild your life.

And how incredibly lucky you must be, to find at the end of the aisle, your best friend, the love of your life. How damn lucky you feel, surrounded by your closest friends, your family— though untraditional on both your side, and Gator’s, still family, all the same.

When Bea and your mother find their seats, you glance back to the small crowd, where two empty chairs sit in the immediate front, one on either side. The chair near your mother holds a portrait of your sister, while the empty chair on the other side of the aisle holds one of Gator’s mom. 

Each has a sign draped over the chair:

“We see you in every sunrise, sunset & within all the stars. You’re watching from the best seat in the house Still wish you were here.”

“Oh, no one warned me about that,” You murmur, tearing up already. They’re not tears of grief, rather, they’re filled with some sort of peace; the visual is just a reminder that they’re both here among everyone.

Gator runs a knuckle under his eyes, one at a time, chuckling softly. “Yeah, I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Flowers for a tissue?” Ivy whispers over your shoulder, making you both giggle.

You turn to her, making the exchange, “Thanks bestie.”

“Anytime, bestie.”

Facing Gator again, he takes your hands in his with a fond smile. 

“We are gathered here on this gorgeous summer day to witness the union of…” Opal begins the ceremony to officiate the wedding, but her words fade away as reality settles in— you’re actually marrying your best friend. Today. Right now. Holy shit.

“Your written vows express your irrevocable promises to love, honor, and cherish one another. I invite you now to face each other to profess your intentions.”

Vows. Right. We’re at this part already? Oh, god. Why is this so nerve-wracking?

Telling Gator your feelings has become easy. You’re not even shy telling your friends, your family.

Anxiety starts to wind around you, tightening your joy in worry. Bracing yourself mentally for the spiral, Gator catches on quickly, feeling your hands trembling within his own; he softly squeezes, a little gesture that you’re not alone.

And it’s true; with him, you’re never alone.

With a deep breath, you speak up, “As cliche as it is to say I can’t imagine life without you, it’s true.” It’s so quiet among everyone, you could hear a pin drop; you pray no one can hear how much your breath shakes as you inhale, or how your voice wavers. 

“When I moved out here all those years ago, I never thought we’d see each other again. I was convinced our story was over, convinced this was for the best, tried convincing myself and everyone else it was better off this way.

“Yet with every little milestone, I wished deep down I was sharing it with you. And though we can’t go back to re-do everything right, I’m grateful we’re making up for lost time. For the first time in life, everything feels right. It’s exactly as it should be.”

The world falls away as you speak from your heart, leaving just you and Gator while your anxiety fades away. “Thank you for trusting me, for taking the leap to join me here. For opening your heart to new experiences, new people, and a re-written future neither of us expected. It’s been a gift to watch you reclaim your life, and even more precious to be able to share it with you. I’ll never take that, your love, or you, for granted.

“I promise to love you endlessly, and stand by your side, cheer you on through everything, even if it all goes dark.” It’s not only the promise you’ve continued to reassure him of when it comes to his vision loss, but you mean it metaphorically, too. 

He squeezes your hands tight, smiling softly as tears build.

“When we stargazed the night before I flew back home, you asked if I’d tell you what I wished for…” The cicadas singing into the sunset usher out your final thoughts, “Guess I can say it, now that it came true; I wished for you, Gator.”

Gator’s gaze is glassy, staring at you like you’ve hung the damn moon for him. He sniffles, “Well, shit. I can’t top that.” Soft laughter floats among the small group. 

“I, uh…” His hands tremble as he reaches into his pocket for his written vows, shaking the wrinkled sheet of paper between his fingers. You shoot a reassuring, gentle smile; his gaze holds your own before he crumples the paper in his hands. “Screw it, I ain’t the best with words, but readin’ some planned speech just doesn’t feel right.”

Gator tosses the balled up paper over his shoulder, and comically, Ty catches it in his hands behind him, making everyone chuckle.

Carefully, Gator’s hands rest over yours. He’s got a smile brighter than the city’s skyline, one you wish you could bottle up, save the joy he radiates for your rainiest days.

“Saying I love ya’ is an understatement, Darlin’. Everyone here’s familiar with our past— to an extent,” He quirks his brows with a glint of mischief in his eyes, just for you to notice. It sends you both into giggles, like you’re sharing a secret. No one but the two of you need to know the truth, front to back, about your story.

“To be blunt, I’d be dead without ya’. Entering one another’s lives when we least expected it, when we didn’t want it, it all turned into a blessing in disguise. Never expected us bein’ snowed in together would bring us both to our senses… but I’m glad it happened. You’re the only one who’s ever given me a real chance, shown genuine love, even when I was at rock bottom.

“I’ll love you, always. At your highest, lowest, and everything in between, ‘cus that’s what best friends do, they have each other’s backs. I’ll do anything, and everything, to protect you the way you always protected me. I’ll be brave for ya’, just like you’ve always been for me.”

Your surroundings have already fallen away; it’s just you and Gator, but that promise only strengthens the love you have for him even more— as if that were even possible.

“We grew up to be pretty alright, huh? I wouldn’t have made it this far without ya’, though, and I couldn’t have turned my life around without your help. I’m…” Gator’s emotions catch up to him, but he’s happy. He’s honestly, unapologetically happy— with you, with both of your odd end families here to witness this moment— he wouldn’t trade it for the world. “Never, ever imagined, not even in my wildest dreams, we’d go from best friends, to partners, to this…

“And y’know… all those nights we spent stargazing, searching for shooting stars to wish on… maybe they worked.” Gator squeezes your hands, eyes glassy with tears of joy. “‘Cause I wished for you, too.”

Between both of your vows, there’s not a dry eye among the tiny crowd.

“Whew, you kids got me weepy over here,” Opal fans her teary eyes with her hand, earning your laughs. She clears her throat, “May I have the rings, please?”

Ty reaches past Gator, handing the wedding bands over to Opal. 

“With these rings, the love you have for one another will be symbolized. May they forever be a reminder of the vows you have just given, and your eternal, unconditional love for one another.”

She hands you Gator’s ring, “As you place this on his finger, repeat after me. ‘May this ring be a reminder of where our love began as best friends, and lives on endlessly as lovers.’”

With a delicate hold, you grasp Gator’s hand in yours, sliding the ring onto his finger as you repeat the promise. “May this ring be a reminder of where our love began as best friends, and lives on endlessly as lovers.”

This is the first time you’re seeing the rings, colors unmistakable; inlaid around the gold band is the friendship bracelet you made him long, long ago.

Your heart soars.

“Gator,” Opal turns to him, handing over the matching band, yours in rose gold, with the bracelet he made you as children, too. “As you place this on her finger, repeat after me. ‘May this ring be a reminder where our love began as best friends, and lives on endlessly as lovers.’”

He cradles your hand softly in his, slipping the band onto your ring finger, mirroring the same promise.

No one dares to scold you for the tear that slips down your face; probably for the best Flor is behind you and Ivy. Gator winks at you with his trademark smirk, but it’s filled with softness.

“We all wish you a long life together, one filled with happy days and precious milestones.” Opal grins cheerfully, “By the authority vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you both husband and wife. You may now—“

Gator can’t wait, like the impatient bastard he is, swooping in to kiss you softly as everyone gleefully cheers. Opal claps and chuckles over his eagerness, while your smile grows against his own.

The weight of anxiety is overshadowed by adoration for your best friend, your husband, but it doesn’t completely fade; there’s just one more vow you’d like to make to him, when the time is right.

•·················•·················•

Let's talk about the old days Let's talk about your friends Let's talk about the summer And how you wished it wouldn't end

As the music fills the air around you, everyone else fades away while you and Gator dance to your wedding song. No other sounds or sights, just the music, the once sweet nothings- now ‘cherished everythings’ that Gator promises you, the two of you cracking inside jokes softly. You finally understand what a married couple is constantly smiling and laughing about together during the first dance; the fond glances to one another that say everything without words. Even the comfortable pauses of silence shared, swaying along the dance floor with him, it all feels perfect.

Did I forget to tell you How pretty you looked in that dress? And the first time that I saw you You cleaned the mess from my head

You’re shielding yourselves away from the rest of the world, basking yourselves in one another’s euphoric and unconditional love. To you, it’s just a reminder set in stone that the two of you will always have each other. No matter what.

It’s you and Gator against the world. It always has been. Always will be.

And I don't mind If we take our time No I don't mind

“Where’s your two left feet, Tillman?” You tease, and Gator just shakes his head with a lighthearted laugh, shooting a dramatic eye roll your way. “Leave ‘em at home?”

Let's go walkin' on the boardwalk Dip our feet into the sea Let's find ourselves lost for hours Until we find ourselves a drink

“First of all, Mrs. Tillman, ya’ can’t pull that last name shit when we share it now.” He points out while you shrug, giggling. “Second, you can thank Miles for givin’ me a crash course in how to move my damn feet without tripping and breaking my neck. Or yours.”

“I’ll send him a thank you card,” You laugh, resting your head on Gator’s chest for a moment, until you hear Flor scold across the dance floor, “Don’t ruin your makeup!” 

“I wonder if she does this with the other brides she does makeup for,” Gator mutters, snickering. You pick your head up with a dramatic sigh, still grinning.

When you lock eyes with him, there’s a small, yet brave voice in the back of your mind, echoing out “now’s the time”.

Let's talk that sun into setting Just need the sound of your voice Need that calming and the comfort Something to drown out the noise

The intensity of your feelings overwhelms you, causing you to tear up. It’s not unheard of to cry on your wedding day, in fact, it’s expected, almost encouraged. You’re not looking away from Gator like you usually do when you’re tearing up, and he notices instantly.

Gator’s immediately concerned, “Darlin’, what’s goin’ on?” You’re not sad, you don’t look sad, but there’s something so certain, so concrete in the emotions behind your glassy gaze.

You can’t help the short, yet soft laugh that slips out, nervous, but excited. “Earlier, you mentioned the— you brought up the day you were trying to clear the nursery out, and told me if I ever changed my mind, you’d take that risk in a heartbeat… remember that?”

“Of course I do, I mean that with everythin’ in me, really do.” His reassurance draws your smile wider. “It goes for anything, I’d take any risk with ya’.”

And I don't mind If we take our time ‘Cause I'm all yours If you're all mine

You inhale, courage building with the oxygen in your lungs, reminiscent of the seconds before asking Gator to move home with you.

Deep breath.

Dive in.

“Even with the risk of tryin’ again to have a baby?”

The music is still playing, but Gator stops dead in his tracks, catching the attention of some of your friends and family.

“Are you— is this a— do you—”

“Pick your feet back up, freak, people are staring,” You tease, face starting to hurt from how much you’ve smiled today. He continues dancing with you, moving at bare minimum with his attention hyper-focused on your words.

Something I've been meanin' to tell you About three years and a day I'd very much like to get married Maybe have kids and move away

“You- you mean it? You’re serious?”

Nodding ecstatically, you softly reply, “Serious as a heart attack, love.”

Gator laughs through his own hopeful, happy tears, resting his head on top of yours. The two of you can hear Flor in the distance yelling, “Don’t wreck her hair!” You shoot her an affectionate middle finger, while Gator snickers before tugging your arm down.

“When did you change your mind? And why?” His questions aren’t accusatory, they’re just in disbelief, but he knows too, you’d never joke about something like this. “Am I dreamin’?”

“Nope, you’re wide awake, babe,” you tease. “Been on my mind for awhile, but you talkin’ about that day earlier made me realize I’m not so scared anymore... Not if this happens with you.” Reaching your hand out, you rest it on his cheek with your heartfelt admission. 

Gator leans into your touch, and you can’t help the way your heart swells over the sight of him being so soft and vulnerable, in front of others, too. 

Cause there ain't nothing like your smile Your legs and those eyes And I will beg and steal and borrow To keep you safe your whole life

As he takes your hand, kissing it before placing it back on his shoulder, he’s immediately hit with worry, and his eyes widen as he asks, “You’re not… y’know…” He shoots a quick glance to your stomach, then back to you, “… now, are ya’?”

Another pure laugh escapes you as you shake your head. “Pregnant? Gator, it ain’t a dirty word.” You tease, and he shrugs with a sheepish smile. “I’m not, don’t worry. I wanna take our time, y’know? Live our lives a lil’ longer, just the two of us. We don’t have to keep talkin’ ‘bout it… but when the time comes, I’ll take the risk, if you want to, too.

And I don't mind If we take our time 'Cause I'm all yours If you're all mine

“You fuckin’ kidding me? F’course I do,” he passionately reassures you. For good measure, he adds with sincerity, “An- and you know, if you change your mind, it’s okay, right? If you decide it ain’t right, if ya’ gotta put your health first, wanna adopt instead—”

“My mind’s made up,” you affirm as the song winds down. You lean in to kiss him, whispering first, “You were right, the future will be good, no matter what, ‘cause we got each other.”

•·················•·················•

The celebration rolls on, with speeches from your maid of honor and Gator’s best man, and cutting cake, with that silly tradition of smushing cake in one another’s faces— even the most overdone of traditions felt right with your best friend, now husband.

Dancing, tipsy smiles and laughter, squishing as many of you as possible into the rented photo booth, 

Throughout the night, you hear the faint clicking among the small crowd, film advancing forward as the dials are turned on the disposable cameras. Each time you catch the sound, your smile grows; you couldn’t wait to get them developed, to see everyone’s perspective on such a special day.

“Ten bucks they kiss tonight,” Ty bets, scoping out his friends shamelessly flirting with one another across the dance floor. 

Flor shakes her head, also observing Ivy and Jinx carefully. “Nah, they’re such lil’ chickenshits about it, they won’t—“

“I dunno, I think Ty’s right,” Gator cuts her off.

Miles chimes in, “Make it twenty that they don’t kiss. I’m with Flor on this one.”

“I bet they kissed already,” you break the bets, causing everyone to look at you. Shrugging, you say, “What?”

“Oh, c’mon, there’s no way that happened.” Gator argues, scoffing at you. “They’re so obsessed with each other!”

“Yeah, bet you know what that’s like to be obsessed and lovesick with someone, huh, Gator?” Ty snarks, snickering when Gator glares at him.

“To be fair, we kinda jumped like… twenty steps ahead, it went 0 to 60 real fast—“

Gator heartily laughs while Miles throws his hands over his ears, “La-la-la, can’t hear you!”

“Ew, Sunshine, keep it to yourself,” Flor grimaces teasingly. You shamelessly shrug.

“Oh my god…” Ty gasps, redirecting everyone’s attention to the flirty pair— finally fucking kissing. “Oh my god!”

Flor shakes your arm excitedly, while you shout “About damn time!”

Gator high fives Ty, while Miles grumbles with a small smile, digging into his pocket for his wallet. He hands Ty a $20 bill, and the younger man quirks his brow. “I believe you owe Gator, too.”

Miles barks out a laugh, “Split it, jerks.”

All of the commotion breaks the bubble Ivy and Jinx were in, and Jinx blushes while flipping their friends off, while Ivy rolls her eyes,  smirk pulling along her face.

When the excitement dies down, Gator rests his head on your shoulder, arms winding around your waist. “Bouncy house is free…” He murmurs into your ear, “Wanna try it out?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you hold a stare with him for a few seconds before breaking out of his grasp. Bunching the end of your dress up to your knees, you take a running start, yelling back, “Race ya’!”

While you run towards the inflatable structure, you hear your husband’s footsteps gaining on you with ease. 

Curse his long fuckin’ legs.

“Ya’ snooze, ya’ lose, Darlin’!” 

Darting past you, in one swift movement, he kicks his shoes off while flinging himself into the bouncy house. You huff over your loss, grumbling and playfully glaring as you step out of your own shoes. He grabs hold of your arms, tugging you inside, sending the two of you into stitches of laughter.

It’s moments like these, rewriting the small joys you should’ve had as kids while you’re all grown up, that are so precious to you.

Wobbling onto your feet, you grip the hem of your dress again, beginning to bounce on the inflated floor. It takes a few attempts, but you finally gain some momentum.

“Je-sus—“ You huff, mid-air. “Was this shit—“ Another huff. “—Always so—“ A laugh puffs out of you, “— Fucking challenging?”

Gator’s still relaxing on the surface below you. “I mean… we went to like, two parties as kids that had these?”

“Don’t forget—“ Now you’re getting the hang of it, but only if you throw your arms out to balance; your dress drops from your grip, long forgotten. “— That one— church thing— they— had one—“

“Oh, that fuckin’ retreat that was more like a cult meeting?”

“Yeah!”

“They bribed us with that fuckin’ bouncy house,” He murmurs, gaze fixated on you— the way your dress flounces with each jump, the grin on your face, despite being worn out. “Ain’t very Jesus like if ya’ ask me.”

You kick your legs out, landing on your backside with a few extra bounces as you catch your breath. “This is a bouncy house, not a fuckin’ ‘lounge around and be boring’ house.” He can’t take his stare off of you, just fond and warm; the Gator you’ve always known, and by luck or fate, got to reconnect with. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just married my best friend, I’m fuckin’ great,” He breathily laughs, arm winding around you to hook you in closer. The two of you look out to the party, still going strong, overflowing with joy; the sounds of laughter, off-key singing, and crickets fill the air. “I didn’t get to say it during our vows, but, uh, thanks for entertaining silly shit like this.” He gestures around the bouncy house. 

You offer a quirked brow, so he continues, “‘Cause all that ‘healing your inner kid’ shit is actually kinda… healing.” The two of you snort over his words. “But I’m serious, and I wouldn’t want to heal with anyone else but you, Darlin’.”

All those childhood nights spent wishing and praying you and Gator would find happier, loving families, and homes that never felt like a prison, they might’ve come true a little later than either of you would’ve liked, but it’s reality now.

The reality you’ve always dreamed of, motivating you to survive the worst of it all growing up, it’s true; the roads leading here weren’t on the map you drew in your head as a child, but somehow you made it anyway.

Maybe it wasn’t as specific as a heart to heart with your best friend, now husband, in an inflatable castle, somewhere in the middle of Brooklyn, but you’ll take it.

Sitting up, you reach for his face with both hands, resting your head against his with a smile. 

“Likewise, Tillman.”

You gravitate towards one another for a sweet kiss, when someone clears their throat loudly at the entrance of the inflatable structure.

“You heathens, this is for bouncing, not smooching!” Ty teases as you pull apart. He turns around, shouting, “Scotty, it’s safe to come over now!”

Gator thunks his head on your shoulder, groaning in embarrassment. “Oh my god, I just got this kid to trust me, now I ruined the bouncy house too.”

“Babe, we didn’t even kiss, quit actin’ like we fucked around,” You giggle. “C’mon, let’s give the others a chance to fling themselves around in here.”

There’s a small thud, sending a wave of pressure through the bouncy castle, making Gator flip over with a yelp. Scotty grins from the entrance with mischief; for a small kid, she’s got some strength.

“Oh, kid, you’re in trouble now,” Gator scrambles to his feet, jumping high to let himself flop back down against the surface. Scotty is thrown up into the air, giggling wildly as she lands back down. You roll out of the way when Gator begins chasing her, and you can’t tell if he’s pretending to be clumsy and let her get away, or if he really can’t keep his balance; either way, it fills the castle with nothing but laughter and playful yelling.

It doesn’t take long for Dot to climb in, and Wayne, too; one by one, your friends and family end up shoving themselves into the inflatable house, jumping all around, chasing one another, grinning ear to ear. It’s loud, chaotic— two things that once scared you, coming from a toxic environment, now loving the pure joy in a moment like this.

Ty’s trying to teach Scotty how to do a front flip, with the adults around cheering her on when she succeeds. Flor and Miles just jump around mindlessly, enjoying a break in their busy lives to just be. Jinx wobbles on the floor, with Ivy patiently holding her up, whispering something sweet enough to make the other woman blush and playfully swat at her. Bea and Opal just watch from the entrance, giggling amongst themselves over everyone’s antics.

You need a breather, allowing yourself to flop onto the floor, when your mother climbs in; you have to do a double take, unable to believe your eyes.

“You ever been in one of these?” You ask as she crawls next to you, overwhelmed with happiness. 

“No! I always wanted to go in the ones at those church retreats, ‘cause you, Lo, and Gator loved ‘em, but your father—“ She rolls her eyes and huffs, waving away the mention. “Well, he’s not here, so I think it’s time I start living, huh?”

Someday, the two of you will dissect the suffering family trauma has brought upon you both, and her hand in it all, but you’re still proud of her for getting away. Better late than never.

You get back on your feet, smiling warmly at her as you extend a hand. “No better place to start than a bouncy house at your kid’s wedding.”

She’s got a childlike joy laced in her grin, taking your hand to regain her balance. You begin showing her how easy it is to jump, and the first time she does, she breathes out a shocked laugh before bouncing again.

There’s gotta be some sort of deep, cheesy meaning about healing here, when it comes to a group of people with interwoven traumas, from all walks of life, sharing a bouncy house— something about keeping your balance, or trust, or some shit— but you don’t care to dig deep for it.

Sharing a knowing glance with Gator, you have to admit that he’s right about healing your inner child. Judging by the overflowing happiness and amusement among your friends and family, you’d say everyone needed a little moment of healing, too.

•·················•·················•

“Wait, wait! Gotta find somewhere safe to put these.” You rush around the apartment, still dressed up with the precious bouquet secure in your grip. 

Gator hangs back with a smirk, leaning against the closed door while his eyes follow your excited self, buzzing around your home. Dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, bow tie long gone— who knows where that damn thing ended up. A few strands of hair falls in his face, now that the gel’s hold has worn off.

“Aha!” You grab an empty vase off the bookshelf, gingerly placing the dried flowers inside. “I’ll have to get a pretty display box for ‘em, but this works for now, right?”

There’s no answer, not verbally, at least; the glow and contagious joy you’ve radiated all day has him entranced. Like a moth to a flame, he’s drawn to you and your light. From behind, his arms wind around you in an embrace, leaning down to kiss your neck lazily.

Eyes fluttering shut, you hum, content. “Keep this up and we’re not makin’ it to the hotel any time soon.”

You feel Gator shrug against you, hands wandering from your hips to your chest, “S’okay, we got time.”

“That’s what you always say.”

He spins you around, backing you against the kitchen counter. One hand gently slips under your chin, lifting your face to his, he smirks. “And have I ever been wrong, princess?”

You know this tone, the way he mixes it with that pet name— and that damn smirk. Eyes narrowing, you ask with suspicion, “What are you up to?”

“Nothin’,” he replies gravelly, locking his lips against yours in a teasingly slow kiss. The kind that’s too slow, with the speed of molasses pouring out of a jar. Open-mouthed, dizzying kisses that make you squirm, just how he likes to torture you. “Be patient, angel,” he murmurs against your lips. “Be good for me.”

You nod, leaning in to kiss Gator, but he moves swiftly, kissing your jaw, down to your neck, hands working in tandem to caress your sides before lowering down to his knees. He leans down, kissing from your ankles upward as he rucks up your dress, chuckling as he feels your skin prickle with anticipation against his lips.

“This is why you wanted to come home first, huh?” Giggling, you run your fingers through his hair, while he nuzzles against your thigh.

“Fuck yeah, always wanted to do this,” he kisses up your thigh, head disappearing under your dress. “S’fuckin’ hot seeing ya’ like this.”

“What, in my wedding dress?”

“Mhm,” Gator hums against your heat, fingers hooking under your panties. He tugs them down to your ankles, hands splaying out to explore the expanse of your skin as they make their way back up to your hips. “One of my biggest fantasies with ya’… get on my knees for my angel…” You shiver as he kisses your core lightly. His breathy confession fans out over your skin, “Bury my face in this sweet, pretty tang—“

“Gator!” Your face heats up, giggling hysterically; you hate when he says that, but with his touches and kisses, he could say anything he wanted right now, and you’d let it slide.

“What?” He pulls back, throwing the fabric of your dress away from his face with a taunting smirk. “Can’t a guy worship his wife in her wedding dress?”

You trail your fingers down to cradle his face, admiring Gator’s mischievous stare, the lust filling his stare, how handsome he is—

It’s a good thing the two of you are married now, because you are positively, absolutely fucked up with love for this man.

Your lips curl into their own grin, giving silent consent as you nod and bite your lip.

“Thank fuck,” Gator sighs dramatically, diving back under your dress. He presses another kiss to your slit, tongue flitting out to part your folds. “‘Cause I don’t think I can wait ‘til we get to the hotel.”

“You— a- ah—“ You gasp, leaning against the kitchen counter, gripping onto its edge. Regaining composure, you add, “Y’say that like it’s far away.” 

“Well, Darlin’,” you feel Gator’s thumbs spread you wide, lapping at your clit a few times before pulling back. Lewdly, he spits onto your cunt, thumb mixing that with your slick, toying with your sensitive nub. “We got a flight to catch in a few hours, and if ya’ thought I wouldn’t play with ya’ before we leave—“

“Wh- huh? We’re— where we goin’?” He suckles on your clit, causing your eyes to roll back in a heady daze. Your hips jerk forward as he begins to sloppily eat you out, indulging in the sinful moment. “Thought we were waiting on a- a— honeymoon… stay out in the city tonight instead…”

Your knees give out, betraying your body, but Gator’s firm grip keeps you upright. It’s still baffling to you that he’s only had a few partners before you, and actually knows how to work that all-talk-no-action mouth of his.

“Thought we could use a tiny getaway before the real deal,” he murmurs against your skin, tongue dipping into your hole, tasting your arousal with a heavy grunt. You yelp as he throws one leg over your shoulder, while the other stays planted on the floor. Gator shifts, mouth still toying with your cunt, when he— Jesus Christ—

This man, your goddamn husband, straddles your leg, rocking his hips against it with reckless abandon. 

Throbbing against you through his pants, he releases some kind of raw, gravelly noise against your core. The sound trembles against your clit, and you gasp, clutching over the tulle of your dress onto his head, desperate to touch him, to watch him until you unravel at the seams.

Predictably, the first moment together as a married couple wouldn’t be soft and sweet like one would assume; honestly, it wouldn’t feel right, with how filthy you usually are with one another.

“The… huh?” Thoughts clouded with lust, you can’t form a coherent thought to ask what the hell he’s talking about. “But I’m n- not— oh, god—“ One of his long, thick fingers slides into you with ease, gently pumping in and out. “Gator, I- I’m not— I need to pack if we’re goin’ somewhere—“

Another finger slips inside, and you cut yourself off with a cry. 

“Already taken care of, angel.” He flicks his tongue at your clit before sucking on it again, rutting against you every so often for relief. You can feel him proudly smirk against your skin as your knees shake. “Now shut up, and let me take care of you, too.”

•·················•·················•

In the past year and a half, you witnessed Gator become so… organized. He was never like this, even as kids, but the loss of perpetual rage and depression seemed to clear his mind with a lot.

With that organization— and Ivy’s help to secretly pack for you, of course— he managed to plan a weekend trip to the Bahamas. This is the same man who was hesitant and terrified of the ocean last summer, but now? He was just thrilled to celebrate with you and relax.

Despite the heatwave during your wedding, the warm getaway was refreshing. The crystal clear waters certainly helped his fear of the ocean, too.

“It ain’t all … murky, like the beach back home,” he shrugged, happily pulling you in waist deep into the water without hesitation. “M’never gonna want to go to Coney Island ever again—“ “Hey!” You playfully splashed him, “No Coney Island slander!” Gator rolled his eyes teasingly, grabbing you by the waist to drag you into the waves with him while you giggled, wrapping yourself around him in the water.

For the two of you, growing up in a landlocked, miserable state, with some of the harshest winters, there was something about the constant sunshine, perfect blue waters, and carefree moments that were healing about this trip, too.

Early November is when your real honeymoon occurs. Once you arrive to the airport, Gator reveals the destination he’d been so secretive about: Iceland.

Wait… huh?

At first, your brow quirks, puzzled; it was a stark difference from the ‘mini honeymoon’, as he called it, right after the wedding. There had to be a reason for the destination, but you were too excited to question it; any adventure with your best friend would be a good one.

Gator blindfolded you after arriving to the hotel lobby, wanting to keep some of the surprise still.

One damn sleigh ride later, one you couldn’t even enjoy the view on, you step into the hotel room, a wave of comforting heat washes over you; you hum, delighted by the instant coziness.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

With a quick kiss to your cheek, Gator loosens the blindfold from your eyes.

It’s not just a room— it’s a small dome structure, yet majority of the walls and ceiling made of a crystal clear glass. Directly outside the walls are countless pine trees, branches weighed down with the fluffiest snow piles. The sight through the ceiling is completely clear, offering a perfect view of the clear, blue skies. 

“You know why we’re here?” He helps you out of your thick winter coat before you wander around the tiny home.

Slipping out of your boots, you shuffle your socked feet across the smooth hardwood floors; there’s a fireplace across the king-sized bed, some cozy recliners, and a teensy-tiny kitchenette. It’s so cute and welcoming, except something’s missing.

You poke your head through a narrow doorway, frowning at the shower inside the bathroom. “There’s no tub to fuck in.”

Gator snorts, nodding to the space behind you, “No, but there is a hot tub.”

Whipping around with a gasp, you stumble into the doorway, “Ow!”

“Try to avoid gettin’ a concussion while we’re here, please.”

“Shut up— oh my god, this hot tub is huge!” Your jaw drops, face shoved against the glass door leading to the porch. “We gotta fuck like, five times at least, in this.”

“Is that all you can think about?”

“Excuse me for wanting to have fun on my honeymoon with my husband.”

His arms wind around your waist from behind, burying his face into your neck, lips tickling along your skin as he speaks between kisses. “Didn’t even let me explain the best part yet.”

“Which is…?”

He asks again, “Do you even know why we’re here?”

“‘Cause you missed freezing your ass off for fun?”

Gator scoffs with an eye roll; you know him well enough by now to notice, even with his dark shades on.

Too jet-lagged to think, you shake your head.

“Oh, c’mon, angel. It’s been on your bucket list since we were kids.”

Open space… huge, clear windows… out in the snowy wilderness of Iceland…

You’ve been so exhausted and giddy from the high of the wedding, it never even occurred to you why you were here— aside from being on your honeymoon, of course.

“… You’re kidding.”

You spin around to face Gator, who can’t suppress a sweet grin.

“This ain’t anythin’ to joke about.”

“We’re gonna…” You’re speechless just thinking about this long time dream coming true, and with your favorite person in the world. “The northern lights? We’re gonna see ‘em? Up there?” 

He quirks a brow, squinting behind his glasses, up through the ceiling; the bright, blue sky is completely void of clouds today.

“They’re gonna be in the sky? Huh… Thought we might find ‘em in the lake over there—“ You pinch his face teasingly, “Hey!”

“You said this isn’t something to joke about!” You admire the glass dome, but the sunlight pouring through the curtain-less windows sends you into a delayed panic. “Wait, are you gonna be okay? Shit, you can’t sleep with those sunglasses on, babe, that’s not safe, please tell me you got somethin’—“

Reaching around you, Gator presses a button on the light switch panel, and in a blink of an eye, the windows become frosted. You freeze, glancing around, then narrowing your stare at your husband.

“…. Did you break something? What the hell did you do?”

He snorts as you crane your neck to inspect the windows, now muting the light enough where it’s not pitch black, but it’s dark enough that it’s safe for his eyesight.

“It’s that fancy, smart glass shit, or whatever—“ He pauses, shaking his head at you. “Are you really gonna make me explain the fuckin’ windows on our honeymoon?”

“I dunno, babe, they’re kinda cool—“ You lose your words as he softly pushes you back onto the bed; as you sink into the down comforter and endless mountain of pillows, your eyes flutter shut as you giggle. “M’kay, g’night!”

Gator climbs on top of you, snuggling close with his face hidden in your neck. A sigh of contentment leaves him as he relaxes against you. “I love you.”

You hum happily, exhaustion finally catching up to you. “Love you, Gate.”

“We’re not gonna crawl under the covers at least?”

“Mmm’nope.”

“Always makin’ shit difficult, huh, princess?” His playful jab doesn’t earn a response; you’re already drifting deep into slumber. He takes a moment to admire you, so relaxed and at ease by his side; leaving a kiss on your forehead, he reluctantly leaves bed, taking care of you first.

Knowing you’ll eventually get cold, Gator gently tugs the covers out from beneath you, eventually succeeding while you briefly stir. He climbs back in next to you, pulling the down comforter and covers up, finally tangling himself around you and falling fast asleep.

•·················•·················•

A jarring, shrill alarm jolts you up out of bed.

“Holy shit…” Hand over your heart, you feel it pound fiercely as the alarm rings in your ears. Gator jumps, startled out of sleep and thrown headfirst into the waking world.

“Wha’the fuck’s that?” 

On the nightstand lays a box with the words “Aurora Alarm”, and it takes a few seconds to register what’s going on.

That’s a thing?

“Wait—“ You throw the covers off, onto an unsuspecting, still half-asleep Gator, who grunts as the comforter pushes him against the bed. 

“The hell you doin’?”

Looking up through the glass ceiling, you gasp at the ethereal view dancing above.

“Gator…” You pull the covers off him, and he groans, still jet-lagged. “Gator, get up!”

He pouts, turning over, away from you, “S’nighttime though…”

Grabbing his arm, you shake him excitedly. “That’s the point! Look!”

Sighing, he rolls onto his back. Peeking his eye open, he takes in the colors swirling over your heads, “No fuckin’ way…”

“C’mon, I wanna watch!” You roll out of bed, stumbling around to find your winter gear, eyes glued to the light show in the sky. You bump into the bed, flopping back onto it. 

“You’re a danger to yourself,” Gator mumbles with a smirk, finally sitting up. “We can see ‘em here just fine—“

Tugging at his arm, you attempt to pull him out of bed with you. “Get up, get up, get up—“

“Christ, okay, m’goin’!”

Shaking the sleep from your bones, the two of you bundle up, venturing out into the freezing cold.

•·················•·················•

“The whole point of renting this place was to see the sky and stay warm, angel.”

You spin around, though it’s not very graceful as you wade through the knee-high snow in multiple layers. “Yeah, but we should see them outside at least once.”

It’s decided the two of you won’t wander very far, so when you find a spot feet away from the little glass house, you throw your arms out  before falling back into the fluffy snow. A plume of loose snow puffs out around you as you giggle over the simple joy. He’s not too far behind you, mimicking you as he falls next to you.

Laughter dies down quickly once you and Gator gaze up at the breathtaking sky; the night sky is crystal clear here, with dreamy stars you’d never see back home. His heavily gloved hand flops around the snow, eventually finding your own, grip as existent as it can be among the weatherproof fabric.

“This kinda feels like that time we laid in the snow, after ya’ pulled me down next to ya’.”

“The day you were supposed to teach me some gun safety?” He hums, agreeing. “For the record, I pulled you down ‘cause you made fun of me for fallin’.”

“You had it comin’ to ya’, Darlin’.” Gator snorts a little as you scoff. “But, yeah. That day.” He contemplates his words, trying to speak from the heart without killing the moment with the gritty retelling of events that followed. “I kept lookin’ at ya’… kept thinkin’ how lucky I was to even hold your hand. The sunset was real pretty, too, made you all glowy, and shit.”

You giggle, “You got such a way with words, Tillman.”

“You’re never gonna stop with that last name shit, huh? Even if we share the same one now.”

“Never.”

He grins, though you can’t see it from where you lay. The world around you is quiet, serene; it’s just you and Gator, sunken into the fluffiest snow known to man, staring up at the aurora borealis as it blankets each of you in an illumination of spectacular, shapeshifting colors.

“I was gonna tell ya’ first, before— well, you know.” He grimaces, pushing past the darkest details. “It hit me there. Well, it hit me before that, too, but it just felt like it was you and me in that moment. No shitty families, no big, scary world around us; just you and me. Like it felt when we were together growing up.

“I ain’t mad about the way we said I love you the first time,” He admits, leaning up on his elbows to glance down at you. “But if I had the chance to go back, tell ya’ right there while we were freezing our asses off in the snow, I think I would.”

Frowning a bit, you sit up, “Why? It’s still the same no matter where you told me— and technically, I said it first.”

Gator rolls his eyes; you’re still so impressed with how seamlessly his prosthetic flows with the motions of his real eye, but that’s not important right now.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d still do it over if I could. I wish I said it to you before all of that shit went down with your dad.” He’s about to wipe away building tears, but remembers his entire being is covered in snow dust. “Hadn’t seen you that scared since we were kids…” His voice cracks as he loses his train of thought.

You shift closer to him, and it’s almost comic relief— the way you wobble on your knees crawling closer under all these layers— if the timing were better. Awkwardly, you sit in his lap, earning weak chuckles from you both as you kiss his cheek.

“I take it back; you said it first.”

“Huh?” He shakes his head, “Don’t remember sayin’ it first. N- not that it’s a competition, I just… you said it, after that nightmare, remember?”

“I do. And maybe you didn’t say it with words, but your actions that night made it clear.” Your faces are so close, warmth radiates off one another; it’s familiar, comfortable, both to your body and heart. 

It’s like the heat that was shared between you, in the sleeping bag, that only lasted a few minutes; you were emotional, drunk, as was he, and both of you deflected and ran from your feelings— but that warmth stayed with you all night.

It’s reminiscent of the next night, when the sexual tension finally broke, landing you cuffed to his bed; while deciding on a safe word, he was so close, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him right there, pouting when he told you to earn it. 

And moments later, the tender warmth he radiated— shocking the hell out of you— showering you in praises, kissing your shoulder as he reassured you while coming down from one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

His “earned kiss” offered an unexpected warmth which bloomed from within, one beyond arousal, melting your heart into familiar feelings, once buried for over a decade, finally breaking the surface.

Really, anytime there was aftercare, you felt it; an intimacy that tickled your skin in the way only sun rays can, with the same, constant warmth. 

Beyond that, too; you felt it when he grabbed your hand the moment your families came home, reassuring you: “M’not leavin’ your side, darlin’.” Felt it in the way he protected you from your father’s wrath, the way he put your safety above anything, and anyone, else.

That same warmth was a security blanket in his unexpected voicemail, while you worried and waited back in Brooklyn, fearing the worst; though his voice and spirit were broken, his love was louder.

Now, waking up every day next to your best friend, your love, your protector, your husband— there’s not a cloud in the sky, even on the stormiest days; the sun always shines with Gator by your side.

Funny, how your nickname of ‘Sunshine’ now feels like it rightfully should belong to Gator; once one the grumpiest, miserable people you’ve known, now soft, ice long gone after melting away from his heart.

“I always felt loved by you, felt love for you, since we were little.” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re grinning, eyes scrunching up as they become misty. “I just didn’t have a name for it ‘til that night. Hell, I knew I loved you before moving years ago, but I thought it was one sided. That night, though, when you promised you weren’t leaving my side… I knew. I felt it.

“You never once had to say it, Gator, ‘cause your heart did, first.”

Surging forward, Gator steals a kiss, passionate, but slow; between lips moving in harmony, he mumbles, “I felt it since—“ He presses his mouth to yours, sighing happily, drawing a smile across your face, one he can feel, one he knows so well by now. “— Since the day you picked those flowers f’me. I ain’t ever had a girl give me flowers since, y’know.”

“‘Cause none of ‘em knew you like I did,” you’re joking, but Gator smiles fondly, laughing a little, too.

“You’re right. No one else ever got me like you did,” he nuzzles his nose against yours, feeling you shiver against him. You feel both his response and the cold settle deep in your bones. “C’mon, let’s go back in. I’ll warm ya’ up.”

•·················•·················•

The door’s barely closed behind you before it’s a flurry of eager clumsiness; you’re ripping your jacket off, flinging your mittens across the room, while Gator’s scrambling to get his snow pants off, forgetting his boots are still on.

“Christ— why did we bother goin’ outside?” He laughs, tugging at his shoelaces, kicking his boots off, then his pants. “Shoulda’ fucked first, then went out— oof!” You’re on him in a flash, pushing him back onto the bed, tearing his sweatshirt off; he hooks his legs around your waist, flipping you over to free you from your shirt and bra.

“The experience!” You exclaim through a fit of giggles, but they die down fast, thanks to Gator kissing and biting along your neck. “Mm— god…”

“I dunno, fucking you under the northern lights might be a better experience.” He groans, hot and heavy, hips rolling into yours. 

You tug at his shirt, frowning. “The hell you still wearin’ this for?” Up and over his head it goes, thrown somewhere within the room among the other clothes; that’s a problem for future Mr. And Mrs. Tillman.

“Should be askin’ yourself that,” He yanks your leggings and panties down, relishing in the yelp you return. But he slows down, as much as he’d rather not. “Maybe we should…” He’s already panting. “First time on the honeymoon should be all sweet, and shit, right?”

You think about it, and nod slowly… then shake your head. 

“Babe, pick one,” Gator chuckles. 

“When the hell have we ever stuck by traditions and shit? Like— oh, who fucking cares.” Your legs wrap around his waist, tugging him closer. Giggling, you murmur, “My tits are cold, c’mere.”

“Can’t have that, can we?”

Any and all sounds of carefree silliness fade out as he kisses down your body.

“Gator…”

“M’yeah?” His lips drag against your skin, leaving a wet trail in their wake. Your hands reach for his shoulders, and he yelps from the sudden chill. “Fuckin-a— gimme those,” he pries your hands off of him, bundling them together in his own, breathing warmth against your skin. “Even with those thick-ass mittens you still get corpse hands.”

You laugh, “Stop callin’ ‘em that!”

“It’s the truth! You had ‘em that night we shared a sleeping bag, and they’re still just as cold,” he teases with a smirk.

You remember that night fondly— how it was a turning point for the both of you, rebuilding a bridge once collapsed into rubble. How infuriating he was, but deep down, you loved it. You loved the teasing, the flirting, even the short-lived sentimental exchange… before he became insufferable again.

Even that, though, you loved, too.

“I love you.” The small display of affection is effortless, yet you need it to survive, as much as each breath you take and return. 

Gator picks up where he left off, kisses traveling down your figure again, murmuring “I love you,” into your skin. The kisses grow sloppier the closer he inches to your heat, but you whine, tugging on his hair gently to stop him. “What? S’wrong?”

“Need you,” pouting, you tug at his hair again, eliciting a delicious, deep groan from him. 

“I know, Darlin’, I got ya’, jus’ be good for me.” Gator’s tongue flits out at your folds, and you gasp, but still attempt to pull him away. “Babe—“

“Later, just want you, need you in me,” you babble wantonly. “C’mere, please?”

“You sure?” When you nod and hum eagerly, he crawls back up your body, gently pushing your legs apart; you hold them up, whimpering while he glides the tip of his cock along your clit, dragging down to catch in your entrance every so often. “Always makin’ the sweetest noises for me, huh?”

“Please…” you whimper again, arching your hips up into him. 

Gator takes you by surprise, leaning back against the pillows while tugging you on top of him. You giggle over the quick maneuver, grinding your core against his length. His head tips back into the cushions, lids fluttering shut as his mouth falls open. He grabs your hips, lazily guiding you in the back and forth motion against him.

Under the cover of night, your bodies seamlessly blend together like the brilliant colors in the sky above. In every gasp, shiver, and moan, Gator’s blissed out expression is shaded in a kaleidoscope of hues.

From way the green illuminates in his eyes, to the blue offering you an ethereal glow, while the pink kisses his skin, dancing over each and every freckle and mole, and purple wrapping both of you together, this is the closest you’ve ever felt to Gator. 

In one final roll of your hips, you take him in, adjusting and settling against one another with sweet sighs and gasps.

“There ya’ go, angel…” Gator grunts as he sits up, restraining himself from slamming up into you. “S’what y’needed all day, huh?”

“All day… yesterday… what time zone are we in?” You giggle in a daze, languidly rising and falling onto his shaft. 

“Fuck if I know,” he chuckles huskily, kissing your neck, nipping lazily at your sensitive skin. His hands glide up your body, reaching your breasts to rub his thumbs against your piercings. You shudder with a breathy laugh as he kisses down your chest, lips ghosting over one of the sensitive buds. When one hand runs through his hair, pushing him closer to your chest, he chuckles, almost mockingly, “Don’t be greedy, Darlin’.”

Lapping at your nipple, he latches on, sucking softly while finding a steady rhythm as he thrusts deep into you. An obscene, low hum vibrates out of him against your body, adding to the pleasure you feel everywhere.

You chant his name with each thrust, whiny whispers that he responds to by picking up his pace.

“S’my good girl,” Gator murmurs, trailing his lips back up your neck. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

“M’all y- yours…” Losing yourself in the bliss, it feels familiar. Like you’ve been here with him before, but something feels more complete. “And you’re… you’re all mine, right?”

The possessiveness isn’t from a toxic source, it’s one of reassurance.

Just like the night before you flew back home; exposing every inch of your heart and soul while Gator made love to you in the back of his truck, underneath an abundant starry night sky.

You hold his face in both your hands, admiring the dazed, blissed-out expression that only grows. The shades of the sky continue to paint across his beautiful face, highlighting to you what a difference in time and healing can make. 

The night before you flew back home, Gator was still beautiful to you, still handsome as ever, but he looked worn; appearing as if he was hanging on by a thread— and he was. Having you around for the first time in a decade brought some life to what he once accepted as a permanent scowl, lit a spark in his lifeless eyes. 

Tonight, he’s the Gator you’ve always known; even with his compromised eyesight— the mostly faded scar that runs from his brow bone to just under his remaining eye, the prosthetic in the other— there’s so much light in his gaze. There’s so much hope, and love, ambition to keep living, not just survive. He’s not fading into muted neutrals, there’s bursts of color and light replacing that scowl, and genuine smiles where the cocky smirk once laid.

… Well, most of the time— he saves that smirk to tease you with, at least, like right now, when he responds, “M’all yours.” The expression fades, though, when he leans in, whispering with strength and certainty against your lips, “Forever.”

[msdk-00]

[eroticisminmotion]

Already enjoying this series

[untilyouremember]

You're My Pet

Available digitally (included in ComiXology subscription)

[00-kdsm]

[readtilyoudie]

You're My Pet Volume 1

[offyoupop-easypeasy]

[peanutbutterthenjelly]

I found a shirt I made. Idk how old this is. maybe 10 years old. It's got some of my favorite Destiel fanfic titles at the time on it. Some of them are gone from the internet. Some of them have gone on to be published (I think), and all were amazing. Sigh. The good old days.

[musicmoviefan]

Oh yeah!! One of many reasons I love Bruce and E Street!! ❤️‍🔥🔥❤️‍🔥🔥🥰🎼🤘🫶💖🎸🎷🎉🥰♥️☮️💗

The Legendary 1979 No Nukes Concerts

[msdk-00]

[eroticisminmotion]

[readtilyoudie]

YOU'RE MY PET VOLUME 1

[stillundefeated]

 via  Gridllr.com  —  Likes made beautiful!

[technically-human]

Your art is so, so, so, so cute. If you ever were so inclined, I would love to see your take on Charles finally getting to eat a plate of spaghetti

Edwin wasn't too sure he liked it, but I think he's convinced now!

ko-fi

[maraudersidk]

Female percy weasley (persephone) is so good like trust guys.

THE DEPTH OF HER AND GINNYS RELATIONSHIP. Like its giving girl, so confusing.

Also her and molly because mother daughter relationships are heartbreaking.(that one scene from ladybird, the whole movie actually)

HER WANTING TO BE MINISTER OF MAGIC AS A WOMAN!!!!LIKE THE ANGST

Everything is better when its women. They make me sick.

ALSO HER AND OLIVER WOULD BE THE GIRL AND BOY PREFECTS😝😝😝. Like ok i see u. Rendezvous during their rounds 100%.

Also oliver would be prefect cuz he would be the only male gryffindor.

Also her leaving and having the fight with arthur would be 10x more angsty cuz thats his baby girl like she was his first daughter and she definitely was a daddys girl growing up-she wanted to work in the ministry and her dad alr did so.

Also i made up a gc that prefects and head girl/boys get their own private dorms and it has a little common room and her and oliver would sit there at night and talk (make out)

ALSO this is alr my hcs for male percy i just wanna clarify cuz it feels like if i dokt im making her into an object between them all but:

her and marcus having a cute little relationship in fourth year cuz she was tutoring him, him being nicer to oliver off the pitch cuz she asked, oliver watching them and trying to not let his jealousy show. Marcus being perse's first friend other than oliver (who she thought only hung out with her for charlie or because of her notes) him showing her how amazing and smart she really is and fighting any slytherins who made comments abt her hair or looks or clothes. Marcus building up her confidence🤍.

Them breaking up in fifth year (it was mutual no bad blood they're besties) she starts talking to a hufflpuff named daniel (OC) him being a prefect so oliver always has to deal with his presence and be hates it because as much as he tries he can't hate him because hes just so nice. Daniel noticing how oliver looks at her and seeing how she looks at oliver (she didnt realize yet) Daniel giving little hints to help her see her feelings. Him comforting her and being so understanding when she does.

THEN SIXTH YEAR HAPPENS *this one's a doozy* perse was planning on talling oliver her feelings at the beginning of the year (after about 100 letters from marcus and daniel hyping her up - marcus threatening to beat him up and daniel sayung she should get chocolates). BUT when she was about to talk to him when they got bsck to school she sees oliver accepting a date from a girl named Sophie (sephie-sophie, see what i did there) in the year below, her running away and ignoring oliver for as long as she can. Perse befriending roger davies and they decide on a no strings attached (daniel did not approve, marcus found it hilarious and asked to join). Oliver goes ok the date but ends up rambling about perse for most of it ("shes so smart", "her hair is so pretty", "shes so helpful with my quidditch plays") sophie trying to ignore it until she can't and confronts him about it at the end of the date. Oliver apologies like crazy and end up spilling the past six years to sophie (shes too nice for her own good). They end uo with a weird tension between them up until right before Christmas break they make up and give each other gifts (no confession yet). Atp roger is just perse's theapist and gives her advice while they slack off on rounds to sneak to the kitchen. Near the end of the year the stress of exams and just generally everything that happened that year and penny (roger introduced penny and perce and they're THAT duo) they end up blowing up on each other and cue angry love confession.

I don't have all of this thought out but this was a very very summurised version of what happened (theres sm more angst for perce😁) this was supposed to be a trans perce psot but turned into perciver. What can is say guys they have me in a chokehold.

I might talk more about this cuz shes consuming me and she's so me. Sorry for the rant🤷🏻‍♀️

[artificialac1d]

rewatching port of call: hawaii