Tim Gutterson - Tumblr Posts

Broken, But Still Good

Been saving this one for the FTH 2024 posting. The dates are out! Fandom Trumps Hate 2024 creator sign-ups are February 5th-19th. Even if you don't sign-up, pop over to https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/ and reblog the auction calendar. Summary: Tim has a little too much to drink, and reveals more than he intended to about his mental state to Raylan Givens of all people. If only he could get Raylan to drop it... TW: PTSD, Drinking, for a complete list of content warning, check this out on AO3! I am AnneMcSommers over there, and the fic has the same title!

Tim had gotten drunk before, hell, he had drunk enough to kill a lesser man, and could still pass a field sobriety test because he had one hell of an alcohol tolerance. Well, he THOUGHT that he had one hell of a tolerance, but that was before he started drinking from a mason jar out in Harlan.

Tim had had homebrews before, who in a warzone hadn’t tried whatever shit they tried to pass off as alcohol, but could double as paint stripper?

Tim had not however considered that moonshine in a county that had been making it since prohibition would be a special kind of drunk, and he wouldn’t have admitted to anyone that he had gone far past his limit.

Raylan had all but poured him into the car, and Tim held it together all the way to his apartment even as the alcohol continued to hit him. He kinda wished that he was one of those people who puked, because at least then he could have thrown up before leaving the bar, so he wasn’t more drunk getting out of the car, than getting into it.

Tim had made it a whole two steps towards the door, before he completely lost his shit. A car backfiring always put Tim on edge, but on that night, it had taken him right back, and he was unarmed. Before he had known what was happening, Raylan had a hold of him.

“It’s alright, Tim, you’re alright, you are in Kentucky, and it was just a car Tim. I promise, it was just a car,” Raylan soothed, and Tim was too drunk to keep himself properly upright, but he was not too drunk to realise he had fucked up somehow.

“It’s okay,” Tim had slurred. “I’m good, I’m good,” he had tried to reassure Raylan, but the more he spoke, the more worried Raylan had seemed to look as he walked Tim to his door. “Really Raylan, I’m okay. I can still shoot straight, really. I could shoot straight if I had to.”

Raylan had just frowned, picking up Tim’s housekeys when he dropped them. “Really, I could,” Tim had promised as Raylan unlocked his door.

It felt like Tim had blinked, and they were in his room, Raylan putting a glass of water on the nightstand, helping Tim with his buttons.

“I could shoot straight,” Tim had insisted, and Raylan sighed.

“You told me Tim, it’s okay now, go to sleep.”

Tim had known, KNOWN, that Raylan didn’t believe him, and said it again louder. “I can still shoot straight Raylan.” Tim had stumbled forward, and Raylan caught him, even as he clung to the man’s shirt to keep himself upright. “I can still shoot straight, Raylan, you gotta believe me, I can handle it, I can still shoot.”

Raylan had looked really sad as he answered, “I believe you Tim, now why don’t we get you to bed, and we can talk more about shooting in the morning, okay.”

Tim didn’t remember going to bed, but he did remember how he had woken up the next morning with his head pounding in a way it hadn’t since high school, the sun far brighter than it should have been if he had woken up like usual.

When Time had seen it was 11 am, he’d have leapt out of bed if he hadn’t seen the note. Tim had squinted at in in the bright light coming through his windows but managed to make out that he had been called out of work sick, he was to drink the water, take the aspirin, and eat something.

Tim’s stomach had twisted, and if he had been able to throw up, he would, because FUCK. He had taken the aspirin, drank the water, and headed into the bathroom to drown himself in the shower, where he stayed until the water went cool.

Remembering the night before was brutal, and he had thought he would get a reprieve before he had to deal with the shitstorm he created, but opening the bathroom door to the smell of eggs cooking let him know he wasn’t so fucking lucky.

Raylan had made eggs, toast, bacon, and Tim had been glad it went down without coming back up. He had finally managed to get Raylan out of his apartment after the man made about half a dozen subtle and not so subtle references to the night before, and if he weren’t so mortified it may have been touching.

Tim had spent the better part of a week doing everything he could to avoid Raylan, who seemed bound and determined to discuss things. Art had not, to Tims knowledge at least, seem to have clocked what was going on exactly, but that if Raylan didn’t drop it eventually, then it was going to become a thing, and that was the last thing Tim needed, for Art to be worrying about him MORE than usual.

To Tim’s eternal relief, Raylan had eventually dropped it. Everything was fine for a few weeks, back to normal, or at least close to it, and then they went to pick up a suspect at the no tell motel. The guy was huge, and shoved Tim faster than Tim was able to pull his weapon. Tim took header down an entire flight of stairs, and even he had to admit he got off easy given that he had missed most the stairs and just kind of dropped from a floor up.

A mild concussion, and a broken arm, it wasn’t much but it was his shooting hand and Tim was going to be out of commission for two months while it healed. Tim was antsy before the doctor even finished. “How long before I can go back to work?”

“Full duty, you are looking at two and a half, three months depending on the physio,” the doctor reeled off like it was nothing.

“Three months, for a broken arm?” He had broken it like three or four times as a kid, and it had not been three months.

“Two months for the cast, and then time after that to regain the muscle strength and dexterity. Ten days off as a minimum to start for the concussion, then we can re-evaluate and see if desk duty would be an option. If you press too hard though, it could be longer.”

Tim was trying not to freak out. “When can I get out of here?”

“In an hour or so, if you have someone to take you home.”

Tim froze, and he had never been more relieved to hear Raylan Givens voice. “His ride is already here.”

Raylan helping him up top his place was a little too close to what happened a few weeks back, and as much as Tim wanted the man to leave, there really was no way to kick someone else out of your place who was trying to help you.

Tim was saved by Raylan’s phone ringing.

It was Art, Raylan was needed in Miami for an old case ASAP, something about a retrial, but Tim was fuzzier than he wanted to admit. Raylan had gone through the whole thing, but all Tim got from it was that Raylan was going gone for a week at least.

Raylan stilled at the door, and Tim knew that he was going to dread whatever came out of the man’s mouth next.

“Fuck.”

Tim didn’t want to ask but felt obliged. “What?”

“I just got this new house plant,” Raylan explained, turning towards Tim, and Tim knew what came next.

“If you’re gonna be back in a week, shouldn’t it be fine,” Tim asked. He didn’t know much about gardening, but he thought it was a weekly thing.

“Usually, yes, but it’s this stupid tropical thing, it doesn’t get watered, it gets, misted or whatever, every day. I didn’t want the damn thing, and now I am gonna kill it. Shit, is there any chance you could water it?” Raylan asked, and Tim wanted to say no.

He felt like shit, his head was swimming, and getting over to Raylan’s to mist a fucking plant was going to be nightmare. Tim made the mistake of looking at Raylan, who was pulling full puppy dog eyes. Tim opened his mouth to say no, and said, “Ya, sure. Just leave the instructions by the plant.”

Raylan gave him a wide grin, and Tim felt a little better than he had five minutes ago, as he took possession of Raylan’s spare key.

“Thank you, Tim, really, I appreciate it,” Raylan told him. Tim regretted saying yes before the door was even closed.

Some days it took two hours for Tim to get out a bed, but he did, because he wasn’t going to be the reason Raylan’s plant dies. So, he got up and made his way across town, on the bus at first, so that he could mist Raylan’s plant.

There was a spray bottle, and “spray 6-8 times” until moist” written on a napkin with marker, in Raylan’s handwriting. The plant was ugly as fuck, and Tim had not idea why the man wanted it to live, but he had told Raylan he would water the plant, and he was going to water the fucking plant, even if something that hideous shouldn’t be allowed to thrive.

Two days before Raylan got back into town, Tim slipped getting out of the shower, hit his arm, and ended up back in the hospital needing surgery, or so he was told when he woke up.

Raylan was the one who did the telling, because apparently Tim had been out of it for a few days. They were talking a few minutes before the reality of what happens hits Tim.

“Fuck, Raylan, I killed your plant,” Tim said, interrupting the man mid-sentence.

“It’s okay Tim, really,” Raylan replied, and it was too quick for it to be genuine.

Tim doesn’t think Raylan really got it. “No, it’s fucked up. I fucked up. Fuck, I can’t work, for who knows how long now. I can’t get out of a shower without hurting myself, and now, NOW, I can’t even keep a plant alive. What fucking good am I?”

“Tim, you’re good. I promise you, even if you can’t shoot, you’re worth something, you got me?” Raylan’s voice was rough with something, but Tim couldn’t get past his own mistakes.

“I still killed your plant,” he argued.

“It’s plastic,” Raylan replied, and Tim blamed the drugs for not quite getting it.

“What?”

“The plant, it’s plastic,” Raylan explained, and Tim wondered what they had him on.

“I don’t understand, why the hell would you get me to water a plastic plant?”

Raylan was kind of red, and as it spread to the man’s ears, Tim realised that Raylan was blushing. He had never seen Raylan blush before.

“You were so upset, that night. You know, about being able to do something, and I wanted to make sure when I left you, that you had something you could do, and watering my plant was the first thing I could think of, but I didn’t have one. So, I, uh, picked up one at that dollar general, but it was plastic.”

“You really think I’m that pathetic?” Tim asked, and he regretted it immediately. Fucking drugs.

“No, I don’t. I think you’re great Tim, not just cause you can shoot, or do the job, because you’re funny, and sometimes you’re the best part about being in Kentucky. I just wanted to do something to make you feel better.”

“Sounds like you’re sweet on me,” Tim joked, uncomfortable with the praise.

Raylan blushed again, but the sarcastic comment didn’t come.

“Raylan, are you sweet on me?” Tim asked, and he was half joking, half serious.

Raylan kept his eyes on his boots. “It doesn’t have to be a thing. Despite popular opinion, I can control myself. I’m sorry for lying to you, you know, about the plant. I’ll just, uh, make myself scarce.”

Tim considered pinching himself to make sure he was awake, but despite the drugs, he was still feeling enough to know that this was real, and this was happening. Raylan was leaving, fuck. Tim reached out to stop the man from leaving and pulled at his sore muscles. He stopped, letting out a pained gasp.

Raylan was back the bedside in an instant, leaning over Tim. “You alright, you need me to get a doctor?”

Tim reached up and cupped the back of Raylan’s head, pulling him down into a kiss. Raylan pulled away, looking unsure. “Tim?”

“Never occurred to me you’d feel the same way,” he admitted, feeling his own face go warm.

“Darlin,” Raylan started, “I think you underestimate just how pretty you are.”

Tim ignored the pain, pulling himself against Raylan with his good arm and drawing him into a searing kiss.

Tim’s arm was still broken, but all of a sudden, the whole thing didn’t seem so bad after all.

A Marshal’s Talents Part 1

Pairing: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Warnings: references to past abuse, cursing

Media: Justified

Word Count: 1294

Part 2

Part 1

 The Marshals office was one often visited by many of Harlan county’s residents. Said visitors being criminals and or fugitives. But this visit wasn’t one of business or Justice. You walked out of the elevator, through the door to the Marshal’s office and scanned the main room for the familiar hat. You saw Raylan talking to an older man in the office across from you. The scolding he was getting perfectly clear through the glass walls. Not wanting to interrupt the more than likely justified tongue lashing, you look for the Givens desk marker. Seeing that it was around 5 o'clock not many were in the office to stop you from plopping yourself into Raylan’s chair, and those who were seemed too absorbed in their work to notice. Propping your feet on his desk you spent about 15 minutes playing temple run on your phone until you heard the door open and the previously muffled voices became crisp.

“ No Art, for the last time, I don’t seek out people to kill. It ain’t my fault they try to shoot me.”

You see the older man, presumably “Art”, follow Raylan out of the door.

“ But ya sure provoke em till they do pull on you. Lucky for me I have a lot more patience than the men you shoot or else the last thing I see will be the barrel of your gun like the rest of them. ” Art smirks.

Raylan turns to Art, “ Aw don’t feel too left out, you do make me put my guns on safety in the office for a reason.”

You watch the conversation with an amused glint in your eye. Raylan had not changed a bit in the few years since you actually saw him. The same smart ass sarcasm that got him beat by Arlo. He was a little thinner than you remember but that’s how age works you guessed. You were younger than him, being born when he was 10 gave you guys a good gap relationship wise, but it balanced how close you became in opposing your dear old daddy.

Raylan turned to walk to his desk as a man and a woman walked through the doors. He paused, eyes wide.

“ Bring your lover to work day, Raylan? Isn’t she a bit young.” The woman chirped as she passed behind him. The man simply quirked his eyebrow at you in curiosity and followed her into the room next to Art’s office. 

Eyes still glued to you, Raylan yelled,

“She’s my baby sister!”

Raylan continued to look at you in utter disbelief.

“ Wow Raylan, is that the proper way to greet your sister after 6 years?” You drawled as you got up from the chair. He blinked, blinked again, and pulled you into a not very Raylan like hug. 

The Givens weren’t ones for physical affection as it turns out, You know with all the hittin there wasn’t much time for huggin. 

You hugged him briefly then pushed away. 

“ It’s good to see you too, you alright?”

Raylan stared at you for a little longer with his hands on your shoulders.

“What are you doing here? And why...” He sounded like he wanted to say more, but the door to what you thought could be some sort of conference room opened and Art plus the man and woman approached the both of you. 

You shook off Raylan’s hands and offered your own to Art, “ Art, I believe? I’m y/n Givens.” 

Art took your hand and shook it once, “ It’s a pleasure to meet one of Raylan’s family members that looks to be a kind upstanding citizen. Although he never mentioned a sister.”. He released your hand and looked at Raylan expectantly. 

Raylan looked at you then the three marshals,“ Well this is my baby sister, who I haven’t seen in a while… and who I didn’t know was in town I suppose.” Raylan waited for you to elaborate.

You glanced away from him as you explained, “ I’ve been in Virginia finishing up my Masters Degree, but I got a call from our Aunt sayin Raylan was back in town and thought I’d come back before he killed our daddy so I took a semester off."

“ Yeah we met Arlo”, the woman said. “ Oh by the way, I’m Raylan’s coworker, Rachel. And this hear”, she gestures at the blonde man standing next to her, “ is Tim.” 

“ Both Marshals as well?” you asked, shaking Rachel’s outstretched hand. 

“ Yes Ma’am”, Tim drawled, uncrossing his arms to shake your hand as well.

Tim, you noticed, had not taken his eyes off of you this entire time unlike Rachel and Art who had looked at you and Raylan throughout the conversation. He was much quieter than the other marshals.

You shook his hand, “ Nice to meet you, Tim!” 

His mouth tilted into a smirk and he nodded his head in a greeting. 

“ Sorry about the comment earlier.” Rachel sighed, “ I’m just not used to seeing Raylan with a woman that he isn’t sleeping with.” 

You made a face at that, “ Yeah, I don’t blame you, he’s a bit of a whore.” 

At that Raylan smacked you in the back of the head and you cringed. He never liked you commenting on his “love life” or whatever it was. 

You turned to Raylan, “ That reminds me, I saw Winona when I walked in…” You trailed off waiting for Raylan to say anything.

Instead all he said was “ Yup”, turned and grabbed his keys of his desk.

“Well I was on my way to go visit Boyd on a new case I’m on,” he looked at you, “ you need a ride back?”

You nodded at Raylan and looked at his coworkers, “ It was a pleasure to meet you all, but I guess we are heading out.” 

You followed your brother out the door as you waved to them. Art and Rachel waved back, and Tim nodded again.

…

You walked out to Raylan's town car with him and hopped in the passengers seat. He slammed the door and looked at you as he got in. 

“ I don’t see you for 6 years, and you just show up at my JOB!?” 

You gave him a deadpan stare, “ yes Raylan, thank you for recounting the past 20 minutes, your observation skills astound me.”

“Why are you here?” Raylan continued.

“I don’t understand why you are so upset, you're the one who didn't tell me that you were being transferred here of all places.” 

Raylan looked a little defeated. “ I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to come back , just cause I was here.” 

“ I don’t need you to protect me, and I didn’t actually come back because you were back. Aunt Helene called and said she needed some help with Arlo, something about his meds. She just happened to tell me you were here last night. Asked me if I had seen you yet. A bit of a surprise since I thought you were still in Miami.” Your tone of voice softened as you spoke, “ It really doesn't matter Raylan, I’m glad you're okay, and we can catch up since I’ll be in town a while. Now why don’t you take me to my hotel room.”

...

It turns out you and Raylan were staying in the same motel at the moment. The main reason you probably haven't seen each other in the week you had been here was your constant rides back and forth to Harlan at odd hours or whenever Helen called.

Raylan parked the car and you got out, “ welp, I guess I’ll see you soon Raylan.” You yawned and walked to your room on the other side of the building. He waved goodnight and drove off in the direction of Harlan and presumably Boyd.

…

To be continued

Shelby's

Tim Gutterson x afab reader

Justified

Warnings: cursing, references to puke and blood, drinking

Chapter 1:

Three kids puked in your class today and one of them was ON YOU. That stain was never gonna get out and oh boy did you need a drink. You decided to go to a bar called Shelby’s, it was a mid class establishment. One of the only nice and affordable places in Lexington. You had just gotten off work when you decided that drinking in your apartment alone sounded a bit too depressing tonight. You pulled up to the bar in your work clothes which consisted of jeans and a sweater (complete with puke stains) since the elementary school you worked at was pretty lenient on your dress code. Walking in you sat at the bar and ordered a jack and coke. A classic. If you got anything from your daddy it was his taste in alcohol. 

It was a Friday night so there were quite a few other patrons. A couple in a booth behind you, a couple in a booth next to that one, and a couple sitting across the bar from you. Damn. When was the last time you had sex let alone a relationship? You inwardly groaned and tilted your head down as you swirled your drink. Being in your late twenties was not very glamorous. You were an elementary school art teacher who just finished getting her masters a year ago. The work was fun and you enjoyed being a role model as well as a friend to the students like you needed when you were their age. With that goal in mind you didn't have much room to date in college. Having one long term relationship a few years back made you steer clear of romance while finishing your degree. Kenny was his name and apparently all he was good for was cheating on you at least twice. You dated for almost two years and when one of his friends finally slipped up and told you about Kenny’s “exploit” the night before you immediately packed his shit and changed the locks. He was never the best boyfriend, but you thought he loved you. Now love seems like bullshit, yet you still somehow wish something would work out.

While you were reminiscing about your past loves, the bar started to fill up. You had gotten there at 5:30 and now it was nearing 6:30. You had nursed two jack and cokes before you decided you had to drive home eventually. You ordered water and a beer. You had been enjoying the nice hum of people talking, but as more people entered the bar it became a bit of a loud and jumbled mess. You enjoyed the ambiance, but you decided that you should probably head out before it got too crazy. You decided to people watch before you did leave. An old guy in a bass pro shop across the room was on his 4th beer, bad fishing trip or good fishing trip and mad wife, you guessed. Another guy sitting a booth alone dressed in a suit on his third glass of whisky, divorce or a bad business deal. A group of barley legal looking kids packed into a booth only meant to fit four, all had beers and were laughing hysterically. Oh that was why it smelled like weed, they are high. You were so absorbed in the lives of others you hadn’t even noticed a guy sitting next to you. 

It was one of the only seats left at the bar, the other two empty seats being next to each other he thought he’d leave those open since he was alone. Tim had just got off of work and he needed a drink. Shooting people he could handle, but crying men who begged not to be shot. That was not up Tim’s alley and it stressed him the fuck out. Now all he wanted to do was drown his life into the practice of borderline alcoholism. He ordered two beers to start with and drank as he looked around. Nothing out of the ordinary. The same stories like every other day. Those who were with coworkers or friends, those who are drowning sorrows, and couples who seemed absorbed into each other. Tim liked to think that he was not a part of any of them, but he knew he probably fell into the “drowning of sorrows” club. The woman next to him though might actually not be a part of any of them. He had noticed her when finding a seat, but he didn't think much of it. Now that he was actually looking at her, she seemed mildly entertained as she watched a couple across from them. The couple was seeming to be in a heated discussion about… huh was that Star Wars. Tim hadn't ever gotten around to watching the movies, but he thought that was a pretty good guess. He looked back to the woman next to him, she was wearing a green sweater with sheep on it, that’s interesting. She also had a pair of jeans. There was a stain on her left hip, it covered both her sweater and her jeans.

“Hey, you got a stain on your shirt and pants.” he looked at you and muttered into his beer.

You jumped, completely absorbed in the conversation across from you. You turned your head to look at him and hummed, “ hmm?”. Oh, he’s pretty.

“ You have a stain,” he nodded to where the puke stain that you had tried to get out during your lunch break was.

“ Oh yeah,” you looked down at it. It wasn’t terribly noticeable, but definitely a weird looking thing. “A kid puked on me today,” you laughed. It was a bit of an airy giggle. You looked up at him. He furrowed his eyebrows as took a sip of his beer and looked at the stain.

“That sounds fuckin awful,” he drawled, “ Well that’s a stain i have never had to clean, good luck.” 

It was your turn to quirk your eyebrow, “ It sounds like you deal with a lot of stains?” 

“ Yeah, blood stains aren’t too hard to clean.” he spoke nonchalantly, but your eyes widened a bit. 

He took another sip of his beer then stuck out his hand, “ U.S Marshal, Tim Gutterson.”

At that you relaxed and smiled while shaking his hand, “ Y/N Givens, Elementary School Teacher.”

…

To be continued

A Marshal's Talents Part 2

Pairing: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Warnings:

mentions of guns, shooting, and other typical canon violence

Chapter Text

Media: Justified

Word Count: 1294

Part 1

Part 2

That night you got a call from your Aunt Helen in the middle of the night. It was something about Arlo not taking his meds that night and he was yelling at Francis outside. You got up and called one of your old friends for a ride. You had left your car in Virginia and didn't want to rent a car since you didn’t know how long you would be here. Your friend, Maggie had gotten off her closing shift at 1 am and picked you up around 1:30. It was a 2 hour drive and you insisted on paying her for the gas since it was so far and so late. She took the money but waved you off saying her house is an hour away so it wasn't a big deal. As soon as you pulled into the drive of your childhood home you could hear Arlo screaming from the porch.

Maggie stopped you before you exited the car, “ Do you want me to wait?”

“No, I'll probably be needed for a few hours.” you gave her a soft smile.

Maggie’s face was colored with concern, “ Alright then, just text me if you need a ride back.”

“ It’s really alright Maggie,” you continued, “ Thanks a bunch, I really appreciate it.”

And with that you got out of the car and walked towards the porch. You stopped half way and turned to wave to maggie as she backed out. You breathed a sigh, “ Alright Arlo..”

…

Raylan had gone down to see Boyd. There was construction on his way there so that added an extra hour to his drive. He heard Boyd had been at his cousin’s bar more recently and ended up at Johnny's bar. As he walked up to the door he encountered patrons leaving in a slight panic. Raylan bypassed them to see an altercation between Johnny and another man. Johnny had a sawed off shotgun in hand as he sat in his wheelchair. Raylan saw the man pull first. Raylan pulled faster than both of them and shot the man. At the angle Raylan was at he hit him in the arm and within moments the man was out the door. Raylan chased after him, but the man hopped in a van. Raylan knew he would not be able to keep up and it was dark so he missed the plate. He called Art, knowing the man would still be in the office. It was around 9 when he called. The local police showed up in a few minutes, but it took the Marshall’s over 3 hours to arrive at the scene. The Marshals stayed to question the witnesses. 

“So Raylan,” Brooks said as they leaned against his town car, “ I didn’t know you had a sister?”

Before Raylan could speak Tim walked from around the trunk “, I didn't know you had a hot sister.”

Raylan looked at Tim from under the brim of his hat, “ Tim, shut up.”

Rachel huffed a laugh and shook her head as Tim backed off, hands raised, with a smirk on his lips.

It was so late when everything was wrapped up that they decided to get rooms at the closest motel. It was a shithole. Raylan and Tim took one room while Art and Rachel took the other. 

Raylan’s phone rang at 3:49. He groggily picked up, forgetting to check the caller ID.

“ Hello?,” he mumbled. On the other bed, Tim sat up looking at Raylan. He had been a light sleeper ever since his service. 

“Raylan, I need you to get over here right now.” You whispered into the phone, someone was yelling in the background. 

Raylan sat bolt upright, “ Y/n?, Where are you? What’s wrong?,” he spat out. Tim’s eyebrows furrowed at the mention of your name.

“I’m at Arlo’s,” you breathed, “ He’s off his meds and waving a gun around, I have Aunt Helen hiding in your old room and I’m in the kitchen.”

“ I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Stay away from him.” Raylan hung up and started putting in his shoes and coat. 

“ Where we going?” Tim asked, following in Raylan’s lead putting on his gear and grabbing his gun.

Raylan grabbed his keys, “ Arlo’s. My sister is there trying to get him to take his meds and he has a gun.”

They left the room and practically ran to the car. Raylan must have broken 12 laws careening down Harlan’s road to get to the house. They pulled into the drive. Jumping out of the car they could hear the yelling from inside the house. As they ran up the porch a gunshot rang out. 

…

You were trying to talk Arlo down. He had worked himself into a rage, talking about how Francis had run away to noble's holler again. You were trying to get him back to reality when you heard a car pull up. You turned back to Arlo hoping to distract him from Raylan when he came into the house, but when you looked up you say your daddy pointing his gun at you and yelling at you like you were Francis.

“ No Daddy! I’m not Franci-” You tried to say until you heard a loud !POP! And felt a burning pain in your right arm. 

The next thing you knew you were knelt down on the ground with a pretty blond man next to you. You blinked hard and your head started reeling from the pain and noises surrounding you. Tim recognized your quickened breathing and wide unfocused eyes as a panic attack. After taking a quick look at your arm he saw it was only a shallow graze and focused back on you. He said your name and rubbed the sides of your shoulders as he looked at your eyes and tried to get your attention. It took a second, but you finally made eye contact.

“ Okay good. Now I'm going to need you to breathe,” you heard yelling to your left and glanced in that direction, but Tim spoke your name again. “ Y/N. Not over there. Here. girl, breathe.” He grabbed your left hand and put it on his chest. “ Breathe with me, okay? In… out… good. In and out.” He  continued this rhythm until you looked a little more relaxed and your breath started to even out. 

Tim knew that Raylan and Arlo were still at a standstill but their voices were getting louder. He didn’t want you to start panicking again so he decided the best plan was to get you out of the situation. He looked you in the eyes and said, “ Okay, we are going to walk outside to the car, is that okay?”. 

He waited until you nodded then he grabbed your left hand and put his other hand on your waist, careful of your right arm. You were still facing each other and once you both stood up he pulled you to him so you could not see your dad or brother. He then walked you to the door while leaning his head towards your ear. “It’s okay, we are just going to walk to the car. Don’t mind them.”

As you reached the porch you tried to turn your head to see what was happening. Tim moved you to his side as he continued to hold your waist as he pressed you against his left side. He guided you down the drive and to the backseat of the car. He opened the door and had you scoot inside to the middle seat while he dropped into the seat you left empty and closed the door. He texted Art after pulling out his phone. From your new vantage point you could see the house, but not the people inside. 

Shit.

The people inside.

“My Aunt Helen,” you gasped and turned to Tim.

“She’ll be alright,” he whispered. He was looking you over when your breath started to become uneven. At that Tim pulled your face towards his chest as he pulled you into a hug, still wary of your arm.

“ Shhhh,” he cooed, “ You put her in a room upstairs right? Raylan won’t let your father out of his sight and he definitely won’t let him hurt her.” Tim continued to hug you and run his hand over your hair and back. He didn't want you to overthink yourself into another attack and you seemed to gravitate toward physical touch. As he soothed you he could hear you begin to take more substantial breaths. After about 10 minutes while he cuddled Raylan’s sister he saw Raylan exit the house with his Aunt and a few more guns than he entered with. He looked like he was on the phone as well. Tim decided that it would probably ease your anxiety to see them, but when he looked down to tell and realized you were asleep. He decided to let you be while Raylan and Helen walked to the car. Raylan opened the backseat door and peered in with a worried expression.

“ She alright?”, Raylan asked, noticing your position on Tim and his face morphed into a scowl.

“ She will be,” Tim hummed, “ but I think she is in shock and she will probably need stitches. Arlo?”

“ I called the local police to grab him, he is currently handcuffed to the stair rail. I didn’t want him in the car with either of them,” Raylan said while looking between his sleeping sister and Aunt who wore an indignant expression on her face. 

“ You can leave me here Raylan,” she huffed, “ it’s my job to take care of him.” 

Ralan sighed and pinched his brow, “ Just get in the damn car.”

Shelby's Part 2

Part 1, Part 2

(not my gif^)

Tim Gutterson x afab reader

Justified

Warnings: cursing, references to vomit, drinking

Ch: 2

You and Tim had an eventful conversation about your differing career paths.

“ So is puke the only thing kids do?” Tim said before taking a sip of his fourth beer. 

You shrugged, “ It feels that way sometimes. Do you only point guns at people or is there more to being a Deputy Marshal?” You smirked, already knowing it wasn’t from your brother's short phone calls, but you didn’t like to talk about family. 

You noticed as the night went on Tim seemed to loosen up.

He chuckled and turned his body towards you, feet on your chair’s footrest, elbow on the counter, and a beer in hand, “ I wish, that's the part I’m best at, but there is a surprising amount of paperwork involved in chasing fugitives.”

You mirrored his body language but crossed your legs instead of the half manspread he was doing across from you, “ Yeah I guess that’s where I lucked out,” you chuckled, “ being an art teacher for kids involves almost no paperwork,” you hummed, “although,” and leaned towards him a bit, “ I might trade you for the parent teacher conferences.”

You were obviously more than a little tipsy because as you were sitting back up you muttered  “,but if the dads looked like you I might not mind so much.”

When your brain caught up with your mouth you felt your cheeks heat and you sincerely hoped he did not hear that.

You avoided his eyes by looking at the couple across the bar, but before you knew it Tim was leaning towards you and putting his foot next to yours on your stool. His voice was low when he spoke. “ I wouldn't mind a little one on one with you either.”

…

You ended up staying out much later than intended, talking or rather, flirting, with Tim. You couldn’t tell whether it was going to go anywhere, but looking at the time and your alcohol consumption and realized you would probably need to call a friend to take you home. You texted your friend and luckily enough Ava was a few minutes away. You thanked Tim for his company and you were off. Or at least you tried to be off. As soon as you stood up your head spun a bit and you felt a firm hand on your arm, “ Woah, be careful now. How’s about I walk you outside and we wait for your ride.”

You thought you had less to drink than Tim, so either he had a higher tolerance, or your muddled brain didn’t keep proper count. 

Giggling on your way out of the bar. Tim seemed to find your incoherent babbling and endless giggles quite amusing as he sat you down on a bench outside the establishment.

“ Maybe I shoulda grabbed you some water on our way out to sober you up a bit.”

At that you pouted, “ I am sober.” 

As Tim gave you a slight disapproving glare you burst into a fit of laughter again.

A few minutes later a car pulls up in front of the two of you. Tim was smirking at you as you folded over giggling at something he said when Ava rolled down her window. 

“ Alright yall, you coming or what?”

Tim looks up at her then back at you to confirm that thia was infact your ride. 

“Oh hi, Ava!” you yell a little too loudly for this late at night. 

She rolls her eyes while Tim smiles and helps you to your feet and around to the passengers side. 

“Am I giving you a ride too?” Ava asks as he helps you buckle your seatbelt while you ogle at him standing over you. 

“ No Ma’am, just her,” he says standing back up, “ I can’t leave my car here. Thank you though, and drive safe.”

Tim then directs his attention to you, “ Sleep Well  Darling, I had a good time tonight.”

You smile up at him, “ Me too, bye Tim.” 

You wave as Ava pulls out of the lot and towards your apartment.