with a different plot plss as like gator is like wayyyyyy different from Steve so yeah a different plot would be great TYSMM CAN'T WAIT!! U can do whatever u feel like would be great for the storyline no pressure!!
☆ gator tillman x pregnant fem!reader ☆
okay so i replied to the wrong request…………… So heres the actual one!!!
hi!! first of all, i'm so sorry this took me forever, I FINALLY CAN UPLOAD 😭The problem was one picture of a pregnant belly????? like what does tumblr have against a pregnant belly bro. i've had this request in my inbox for way longer than i meant to and i finally got around to writing it. i was actually really excited for this one because i love writing gator and i'm obsessed with bimbo reader ( english isn't my first language and i'm still learning, so sorry if there are mistakes or weird sentences <3 requests are open btw !!
summary: everyone expected pregnancy to change her. they expected her to stop wearing pretty clothes, stop spending so much time getting ready, stop acting like the sweetest and most spoiled girl in north dakota. instead, she stays exactly the same, and gator somehow falls even harder for her while trying not to lose his mind over the fact that she's carrying his baby.
warnings: fluff, pregnancy, possessive gator, unhealthy family dynamics, protective behavior, bimbo reader, lots of domestic moments, no use of y/n
By the time winter settled over North Dakota completely, the ranch felt quieter than usual.
Snow covered the empty roads in thick uneven layers, fences disappearing beneath pale frost while cold wind rattled against the windows late into the evenings, and most nights the entire house seemed to groan softly around itself like it was trying to survive the season the same way everyone living inside it was.
Still, somehow, you made the place feel warm.
Not because you cooked or cleaned or did any of the things Roy Tillman clearly expected from women, but because your presence changed every room without even trying. There were always traces of you everywhere now. Lip glosses left forgotten beside the bathroom sink, expensive perfume lingering through the hallway hours after you’d passed through it, fashion magazines scattered across the couch beneath fuzzy blankets, tiny pieces of jewelry abandoned on counters because you always took them off halfway through the day and forgot where you left them.
Even now, months into your pregnancy, nothing about you had become smaller.
If anything, you took up more space than before.
Gator noticed it constantly.
The way people looked at you when the two of you went into town, their eyes lingering openly over your long skirts and soft sweaters stretched carefully over your stomach, the way older women smiled at you disapprovingly whenever they noticed your heels or your makeup done perfectly at ten in the morning, like pregnancy was supposed to erase the fact you were young and pretty before anything else.
But you never seemed embarrassed by it.
That was the thing about you.
You carried yourself through the world with the kind of effortless confidence people either envied or found deeply irritating. Even now, when your body had begun changing in small undeniable ways, when your feet hurt after long days and your back ached every night before bed, you still spent an hour getting ready before leaving the house. Your hair remained perfectly styled almost every day, soft waves falling over your shoulders while little gold necklaces rested against your skin, and your makeup stayed delicate and glossy in the way that made you look permanently sunlit even during the dead middle of winter.
Gator had stopped pretending it didn’t affect him.
Especially when you looked so soft carrying his child.
That morning he found you sitting on the bathroom counter in one of his old sweatshirts with a silky little pink pajama short peeking out beneath it, surrounded by makeup products spread messily around the sink while snow fell quietly outside the frosted windows.
Your concentration was entirely focused on the compact mirror in your hand, lips parted slightly while you applied mascara with careful seriousness.
For a long moment, Gator just stood there watching you.
The house was silent except for the soft sound of the heater humming somewhere downstairs and the tiny clinking noises your bracelets made every time your wrist moved.
“You’re awake early,” he finally murmured.
Your eyes lifted toward him through the mirror immediately, expression softening the second you saw him standing there in sweatpants and a dark thermal shirt, hair still messy from sleep.
“I couldn’t get comfortable again,” you admitted quietly. “The baby kept moving.”
His gaze dropped instinctively toward your stomach beneath the oversized sweatshirt.
You were showing properly now.
Not enough that strangers stared immediately, but enough that there was no hiding it anymore. The soft curve beneath your clothes had become permanent, obvious whenever Gator rested his hands on your waist or pulled you against him in bed at night, and every time he noticed it something strange tightened inside his chest all over again.
Reality still hit him unexpectedly sometimes.
You looked so young sitting there with glittery makeup spread across the counter.
Too pretty for this place.
But somehow carrying his baby anyway.
“You should still be sleepin’,” he said eventually, moving closer until he stood between your knees automatically.
You tilted your face up toward him with a tiny frown.
One of his hands settled against your thigh absentmindedly while the other brushed carefully beneath your sweatshirt, palm spreading slowly over your stomach the way he’d started doing unconsciously lately.
The baby moved constantly now.
Sometimes so suddenly that you gasped in the middle of conversations, grabbing Gator’s wrist immediately so he could feel it too.
At first he’d acted awkward about it, almost nervous, but lately he found himself touching you without thinking, like reassuring himself this was still real.
You smiled faintly when his hand stayed there.
“I think it likes when you do that.”
“Mhm. It always calms down.”
Gator looked at you silently for a moment.
Then, softer this time, “Maybe it knows me.”
The words settled somewhere deep inside your chest immediately.
Because beneath everything else, beneath the anger and the possessiveness and all the ugly sharp edges Gator carried around inside himself constantly, there were moments like this that almost hurt to witness.
Small moments where he sounded younger somehow.
Not the boy everyone in town looked at cautiously.
Just somebody scared and overwhelmed and trying very hard not to ruin the only good thing he’d ever had.
You leaned forward slowly until your forehead rested lightly against his chest.
“It definitely knows you,” you whispered.
His hand tightened slightly against your stomach.
Outside, snow continued falling in slow thick flakes while pale morning light spilled softly through the bathroom windows, turning everything silver and quiet around you.
For a while neither of you spoke.
Gator simply stood there holding you while you played lazily with the fabric of his shirt, your body warm and sleepy against his, and something about the moment felt strangely domestic in a way neither of you had ever experienced before.
Your relationship had never really been peaceful.
There was too much intensity inside both of you for that.
Too much jealousy, too much need, too much dependence wrapped up together until sometimes it became difficult telling where one emotion ended and another began.
But there was tenderness now too.
The kind that appeared late at night when Gator rubbed your lower back after you complained it hurt, or when he woke up before dawn because you shifted uncomfortably beside him and immediately reached for you half asleep, and the kind that settled into your chest whenever you caught him staring at baby clothes in stores with this unreadable expression on his face like he still couldn’t fully process that any of this belonged to him.
Eventually you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.
“Can you zip my boots for me?”
His eyebrows lifted immediately.
“You’re wearin’ those again?”
“They barely count as heels.”
Gator sighed softly through his nose, though there wasn’t any real annoyance behind it anymore.
At this point he’d realized arguing with you about clothes was useless.
Pregnancy hadn’t changed the fact you loved looking beautiful. If anything, you’d become even more attached to all the tiny rituals that made you feel like yourself. Your skincare routines lasted forever now, your outfits became softer and more feminine somehow, all flowing skirts and fitted sweaters and delicate fabrics that brushed against your skin whenever you walked through the house.
You refused to become invisible just because you were becoming a mother.
Gator loved that about you.
Even when it drove him insane watching men stare.
A little later that afternoon, the two of you ended up in town after you decided you suddenly needed candles for the nursery immediately.
Gator still wasn’t entirely sure how these things always happened, only that one minute you’d been curled beside him on the couch talking softly about baby names, and the next you were standing in front of the mirror reapplying lip gloss while insisting the nursery “needed a better atmosphere.”
Now he walked slightly behind you through the little downtown shops while snow crunched beneath your boots outside and warm artificial heat wrapped around both of you the second you entered each store.
You looked beautiful enough to make him irritable.
Your cream-colored coat hung open just enough to reveal the soft fitted top beneath it, delicate gold earrings catching the light every time you turned your head while one manicured hand rested protectively over your stomach without you even realizing it.
People noticed you everywhere.
Women softened toward you instantly.
Gator hated both reactions equally.
You, meanwhile, remained completely absorbed in examining candles lined carefully across wooden shelves while soft music played overhead.
“This one smells like vanilla cake,” you announced happily, holding one toward him.
He leaned down automatically when you lifted it toward his face.
“You already smell sweet.”
Your lips curved immediately at that.
“You’re being nice today.”
“No,” you murmured lightly, turning back toward the shelves again. “Sometimes you act all scary and grumpy for no reason.”
He watched you quietly for a moment.
Then, before he could stop himself, “People stare at you.”
You glanced over your shoulder.
The honesty beneath everything else.
You studied his expression for a second before your face softened completely.
That happened often lately too.
Because the truth was embarrassingly simple.
The more your pregnancy became real, the more terrified he became of losing you somehow.
You were beautiful enough for better things. Soft enough for softer lives. Some part of him remained convinced that eventually you’d wake up one morning and realize this place was too cold for you, too lonely, too ugly, and that you deserved somebody gentler than him raising your child.
The thought followed him constantly.
Especially during quiet moments.
You walked back toward him slowly until you stood directly in front of him again, one hand smoothing carefully over the front of his jacket.
“You know I love you, right?”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“You shouldn’t say stuff like that in public.”
A tiny smile tugged at your lips immediately because even now, even after all this time, he still reacted strangely whenever you became openly affectionate in front of other people.
Not because he disliked it.
It affected him too much.
You leaned upward slightly anyway, your voice soft enough that only he could hear it.
His hand settled against your waist carefully.
But the strange thing was that sometimes it genuinely felt like he didn’t.
Like part of him still waited for abandonment instinctively.
The realization made your chest ache in ways you didn’t fully know how to explain.
“You’re stuck with me now anyway,” you teased gently after a moment, resting his hand more firmly against your stomach. “We made a whole person.”
Something unreadable flickered across his face then.
The baby shifted suddenly beneath your skin and your expression changed immediately, eyes widening a little while your fingers tightened around his wrist.
Gator’s entire attention shifted toward you instantly.
The crowded little store around you seemed to disappear completely while he stared down at where your hand rested over the curve beneath your coat.
“Yeah,” you whispered softly, almost breathless now. “It was just stronger this time.”
For a second neither of you moved.
Then slowly, carefully, Gator crouched slightly in front of you right there between shelves full of candles and decorations, one large hand spreading gently over your stomach through the fabric of your clothes.
You looked down at him immediately.
The sight alone nearly stole the breath from your lungs.
Because Gator Tillman rarely looked soft.
But like this, kneeling slightly in front of you with snow melting slowly in his dark hair and concern written openly across his face while his hand rested protectively against your stomach?
The baby moved again beneath his palm.
You watched the exact moment he felt it.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly, eyes widening just slightly before something emotional and almost frightened flickered across his face so quickly it hurt to see.
You simply stood there looking at each other while warm store lighting glowed softly overhead and snow fell endlessly outside the windows.
Then finally Gator let out a quiet breath, shaking his head once like he still couldn’t believe any of this was real.
“That’s my kid,” he murmured almost to himself.
Your chest tightened painfully.
His eyes lifted toward yours slowly.
The way he looked at you then felt almost unbearable.
Something terrifyingly close to devotion.
His thumb brushed gently against your stomach once before he stood again, one arm wrapping instinctively around your waist while he guided you toward him protectively.
You melted against him immediately, cheek pressing softly against his chest beneath the warmth of his jacket while his hand stayed spread across your back.
Around you, the world kept moving.
Cash registers ringing somewhere nearby.
Music playing softly overhead.
People walking past without understanding that something life-changing had just happened quietly between the two of you in the middle of an ordinary little store.
But neither of you noticed any of it.
Because for the first time since all this started, Gator finally looked less afraid.
And for the first time in months, you realized he might actually believe this family belonged to him too.
thank you so much for reading !! ♡ i had so much fun writing this one even though it took me forever to get to it 😭 i absolutely love the idea of reader staying super feminine and glamorous during pregnancy instead of changing her whole personality because she’s becoming a mom. also protective gator might actually be one of my favorite things to write ever. thank you for all the love and support <3 requests are always open !! ♡ no but like why am i si fucking stupid guys.. i literally could t upload for like 2 days and then when i upload i don’t even out hashtags AND i reply to the wrong request. km
