⌁ thinking about... gator tillman coming home angry just to melt in your arms ꒱
— hihiihiihihihihi im watching fargo as we speak.. i think only tw is use of cuss words! gator x reader fluff <3 not very proofread.. but i tried my best! i hope u all enjoy and love my vision of gator as much as i do !.!.!.!.!.!.!!.!!!!!! kisses kisses
the door slammed so hard it shook something loose in the frame.
“fucking hell—” gator’s voice tore through the house before you even saw him. “goddamn piece a’ shit day—”
his boots hit the floor heavy, uneven, like he was ready to fight the ground itself. keys got tossed somewhere— not placed, not dropped— thrown.
“whole town’s full a’ idiots,” he kept going, louder now, pacing already. “can't do one damn thing right, swear to god— jus’ a bitch and a half from sunup to now—”
you leaned against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching him work himself up like a storm with nowhere to go.
“ain't nothin’ hi about it,” he snapped back instantly, dragging a hand through his hair. “got people lyin’ straight to my face, actin’ like i'm stupid— paperwork all fucked, nothin’ lines up—” he kicked at the leg of a chair on his way past, “—and don’t even get me started on that—”
mid-rant. mid-pace. because he finally looked at you.
“…what,” you said, raising a brow.
“nothin’,” he muttered, but he was already walking over, slower now, jaw still tight but not clenched for a fight anymore.
he got close enough to crowd your space, hands landing on your hips like he needed something solid to grab onto before he lost it again.
“still pissed?” you asked, voice light.
“yeah,” he said immediately. “i am. ‘cause it was a bitch and a half out there, and i ain’t even halfway done dealin’ with it.”
“and—” he exhaled sharp through his nose, thumbs digging into your sides a little harder than necessary, “—ain’t nobody listens. whole day’s jus’ people talkin’ over me, actin’ like they know better—”
you let him go, didn't interrupt. just watched the way his grip shifted— less angry, more grounding.
his forehead dipped, almost touching yours before he stopped himself.
“…jus’ wanted to come home,” he finished, quieter now.
you softened a little. “yeah?”
he shrugged like it didn’t matter. like he hadn’t just said that.
“…jus’ wanted to feel my woman’s touch,” he muttered, like it was obvious. Like it didn’t mean anything at all.
your hands slid up his arms, slow, steady. “you're unbelievable.”
“yeeah, well,” he huffed, pulling you closer anyway, stubborn about it. “ain't hearin’ you complain.”
“mm. not enough to stop me, though.”
theeere it was— that flicker of something smug, something softer, breaking through the pissed-off edges.
he pressed his face into your neck then, breathing heavy, like he’d been holding it in all day. still muttering under his breath—
“fuckin’ idiots… whole damn town…” —but quieter now, words getting lost against your skin.
your fingers threaded into his hair, gentle.
he didn’t answer right away.
just tightened his hold on you, like if he let go he’d have to go back out there and deal with it all over again.
“…yeah,” he said finally, voice low, almost begrudging.
you huffed a quiet laugh against his shoulder. “wasnt planning on it.”
“good.” his grip tightened like he meant it, arms locked around you, face still buried in your neck. “stay right there.”
“gator— i have food on the stove.”
“yeaah, well.” he shifted just enough to drag you with him a half-step, like letting go wasn’t even an option. “then, we eat somethin’ burnt.”
you pulled back just enough to look at him. “you are unbelievable.”
“been told,” he muttered, but his hands didn’t move. not an inch.
you studied him for a second— the way his jaw had finally unclenched, the way his shoulders had dropped, how he was still holding onto you like the world might try to take you if he didn’t.
“…you’re clingy,” you said.
his head snapped up immediately. “i ain’t—” he scoffed, pulling back just enough to look offended, “—i ain’t clingy.”
“you are literally attached to me right now.”
“aint attached,” he shot back, even as his fingers flexed against your hips, keeping you exactly where you were. “jus’ standin’ here.”
he stared right back, stubborn as hell.
“…you missed me,” you said simply.
his eyes narrowed, like you’d just accused him of something serious. “i said that already.”
“—i didn’t say all that.”
you tilted your head, soft smile tugging at your mouth. “you didn’t have to.”
he squinted at you harder, suspicious now. “…really?”
you paused, like you had to think about it.
“huh,” you hummed, glancing off to the side. “i dunno. let me ask my other husbands.”
dead. immediate. silence.
“…your what?” his voice dropped, slow and sharp, grip on you tightening in a way that was definitely not casual anymore.
you shrugged, way too innocent. “my other husbands. y'know, firgured they might have some insight—”
“the fuck they do,” he cut in, jaw clenching all over again, but for a very different reason now. “ain't no ‘other husbands.’”
“yeah? swore wrong.” his hands slid from your hips to your waist, pulling you in flush against him, like he needed to physically correct the statement. “you got one. me.”
you bit back a smile. “you sure about that?”
“yes, i'm fuckin’ sure about that,” he snapped, leaning down, eyes locked on yours like this was suddenly a matter of life and death. “who the hell else you think—”
“i mean, i don’t know,” you cut in lightly. “there’s options.”
“—there ain’t no options.” his voice dropped lower, more dangerous, but there was something else tangled in it too, something almost.. desperate. “ain't nobody else puttin’ their hands on you. ain’t nobody else comin’ in this house, eatin’ this food, lookin’ at you like—” he stopped himself, exhaling sharp.
you watched him, softer now.
“like what?” you asked gently.
“…like i do,” he muttered finally, quieter, like it slipped out before he could stop it. "..duh,"
you reached up, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “good. ‘cause i don’t want them to.”
he blinked at you. “…yeah?”
you let the silence stretch just long enough to make him squirm.
then you smiled, soft and easy. “yeah, gator. really.”
he held your gaze for a second, searching your face like he didn’t fully trust it— like he needed to be sure.
“…good,” he muttered, almost to himself.
he huffed, pressing his face back into your neck, all stubborn and warm and very much not letting go.
“…ain’t funny,” he added after a second.
he huffed at that, all annoyed again on the surface, but he didn’t let go. if anything, his arms tightened, chin hooking over your shoulder like he was settlin’ in.
“you’re startin’ shit on purpose,” he muttered.
“maybe,” you said easily.
“mm.” he shifted, nosing along your neck, quieter now. “don’t like it.”
“you talkin’ like that,” he grumbled. “like there’s—” his hand gestured vaguely behind you, frustrated, “—options.”
you couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at your lips. “you got real worked up about that.”
“yeah, well.” he pulled back just enough to look at you, brows pinched. “ain’t funny.”
“i didn’t get jealous,” he cut in quick, immediate. “ain’t nothin’ to be jealous about.”
he stared right back, stubborn, jaw set.
“…you’re holdin’ me tighter,” you pointed out.
“…that don’t mean nothin’.”
“don’t,” he warned, but there was no real heat behind it anymore.
you softened, hands sliding up his chest, smoothing over the fabric like you were calmmin’ something down in him that never really settled on its own.
“gator,” you said, quieter now.
he blinked at you, attention snapping right back. “what.”
“i’m not goin’ anywhere.”
he held your gaze for a second, searching, like before.
“…yeah?” he asked, softer this time.
it was always like this with gator. he made you swear down on everything you said.. in my language, that's called trust issues.
“oh my god, gator,” you let out a small laugh, reaching up to cup his cheek. “really.”
something in him gave— not all at once, not obvious, but enough.
his shoulders dropped again, tension leavin’ in pieces instead of all at once. his hand came up to cover yours where it rested on his face, rough thumb dragging over your knuckles like he needed to feel it.
“‘cause i ain’t sharin’.”
you smiled, stepping closer, if that was even possible. “i gathered.”
“yeah.” his forehead bumped yours, gentle this time, not rushed, not angry. “you’re mine.”
there was that tone again— a little rough, a little possessive— but softer underneath it. careful, almost.
you didn’t pull away, just leaned in, brushing your nose against his. “and you’re a big softie.”
he scoffed immediately. “i ain’t— i ain't soft.” he insisted, even as his hand slid to the back of your neck, keepin’ you close. “don’t know where you get that from.”
“the way you’re lookin’ at me right now?” you said.
he froze for half a second.
“…i ain’t lookin’ at you no type a’ way.”
you tilted your head, smiling just a little. “gator.”
“there ain’t a thing,” he muttered, but his voice had gone quieter, less bite, more something he couldn’t quite cover up.
you leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his mouth.
it shut him up instantly.
for a second, he just stood there.
then his hand tightened at your neck, pulling you back in like he needed another one just to make sure that first one was real.
“—yeah,” he breathed, low, almost surprised.
you smiled against him. “softiiiieeeeee.”
“i ain’t soft,” he said again, but it came out quieter this time, less convincing. “y'so annoying— y'piss me off. badly. you don't wanna see me pissed off.”
he exhaled, long and slow, forehead dropping back to yours when you pulled away just enough to look at him.
“…don’t go anywhere,” he muttered.
he stayed there a second.
you laughed. “yeah. probably.”
didn’t make any move to go check, either.
just stood there, holdin’ onto you like he’d rather deal with a burnt dinner than let go too soon.
“…we can fix it,” you said.
“yeah,” he replied, not even soundin’ worried about it.
his thumb brushed along your jaw, slow, absentminded.
