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usmsgutterson · 2 months ago

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Achilles Heel - Givenson

one, two, three

Read Achilles Heel on AO3

okay!! this fic has lived in my stupid little worm brain for like, three weeks now, and here we are! This is the last chapter in the miniseries and mostly serves as the epilogue because I am simultaneously a lover of angst and a sucker for a happy or happyish ending.

Warnings - tim is in heart attack recovery so the heart attack is still biiiiiig time a focus here!! There's a few mentions of seizures (tim is mentioned to have had two more en route to the hospital) and a few mentions of cigarettes, a few mentions of tims time in the military, and even though I did edit this twice, if I missed anything, feel free to let me know!!

When Tim wakes up, the first thing he registers is the sound of his own heart beating through a monitor, the sound regular enough to be of little concern. The second thing he registers is the fact that his eyes are still closed and how heavy they feel, and the third?

The third thing he feels is Raylans hand clutching his own, his mouth close to Tims fingers.

“I need you to wake up,” Raylan says, his voice quiet. “Been a week, Tim. You need to be okay. I need you to be okay.”

“’M fine,” Tim rasps, exasperated. “My eyes are just heavy.”

It takes him a few seconds, but he does manage to open them. When he looks to his left, he sees Raylan looking at him with a smile. His eyes are glossed over but if Tim asks, he knows Raylan well enough to know he'll deny it, so he doesn't say a word.

“Boyd,” Tim starts, his tone anxious as bits and pieces of the two weeks spent in Boyds captivity start to flood his brain. “Is he--”

“Awaitin’ trial,” Raylan says. “Reardons the judge and Boyd did the surprising thing—waived his right to a jury. Vasquez tells me that Reardon is favoring the death sentence in Boyds case. He's bein' questioned further today, I think? Rachel mentioned wantin' me there, but I figured I'd be of better company here and can't stand to look much at the bastard anyway. Had I seen him in the office, I'd've killed him, no questions.”

“Oh,” Tim says. “I--”

“It’s fine,” Raylan responds, squeezing Tims hand. “You don’t need to talk. I have a lotta shit to say, actually.”

Tim nods.

“First and foremost, when Stevens and I had caught up with him, he admitted to all of it—everything,” Raylan start. “In order, too. First to stalkin’ you and the ones you love, then to abductin’ you outside’a Kingstons, then to two weeks of torture and finally, to triggerin' your second heart attack with intent to murder. Smiled and stared at me when he said that last one, though, and I just—I saw red. I wanted t' tackle him to the ground and punch the life outta him for it, but Stevens kept me from that. I wanted Boyd dead and almost killed him, but one thing kept me from actually doin' it."

“What?”

“Rachel and Dunlop had called, said that you were in an ambulance havin’ your third total seizure but your second in the space of fifteen minutes. Stevens told me to arrest Boyd so that we could bring him in and I could visit you once you were done with surgery, and that brought me back around,” Raylan says. “I hated it—the idea of losing you. I couldn’t risk that. Not again.”

“I’m right here,” Tim says. “You didn’t lose me.”

“No, but I did when I left for Miami,” Raylan says, tone sorrowful.

“You had a kid and Winona wanted to try again,” Tim shrugs. “I--I’d do the same if I were in similar circumstances. I don’t fault you for that, even though things were shit when you left.”

“Well--let me make my point,” Raylan snarks. He kisses the back of Tims hand and Tim grins softly, letting the gesture mean it’s full weight instead of pushing it away. “I talked to Rachel, and then I talked to Dan, and then I sat here every single day for a week straight waitin’ for you to wake up, and I thought.”

“About what?”

“About what Boyd called you when I asked him why he’d taken you, of everyone in my life for whom I would willingly step in front of a gun,” Raylan laughs a bit. “I told him he coulda taken Art, or Rachel or—shit, even Dunlop. I asked 'im why he’d chosen you if it wasn’t just a decision made for the sake of convenience.”

“You’d step in front of a gun for Dunlop?” Tim laughs a little. “And I thought you decidin’ to sleep with me was the worst decision you’d ever made. Guess I was wrong, then.”

“Not Dunlop,” Raylan presses his forehead against Tims hand. “And--not like I can anyway, not anymore. He quit as soon as Stevens’n I brought Boyd in, but you--stop keepin' me from makin' my point, dammnit.”

“Sorry,” Tim squeezes Raylans hand, shifts a bit as he finds his position mildly uncomfortable. His mouth is dry and he misses Rachel more than he’ll ever admit, but he’s okay otherwise. “You thought about what Boyd called me when you asked why it was me he’d abducted.”

“He called you my Achilles heel,” Raylan says, his voice just barely above a whisper. “I denied it at first—eleven years gone from when I left and there’s no way you qualify as much when we hadn’t spoken for all that time prior to when I first got down here. I told Rachel about it, told her I disagreed, and she laughed in my fuckin' face.”

Tim grins gently. “Yeah, she would.”

“Then I called Dan and talked to him, then I called Art,” Raylan says. “Dan told me there was space at the office if I wanted to stow you away in my suitcase, and Art pretty much did what Rachel did. Called me an oblivious idiot prior to, at least, and told me he’d be in Lexington this week if I wanted to chat. I came here, I grabbed your hand and I prayed to a God I haven’t had real cause to believe in since before my daddy hit me for the first time, and then I got to thinkin’ and I just couldn’t stop it.”

Tim takes a deep breath in, swallows thickly and reaches for the water that’s sitting on the table tucked to his right. He grabs the bottle and sits up, takes a sip while he waits for Raylan to continue.

Raylans watching him, he realizes, and when Tim meets his gaze, he continues.

“I realized Boyd was right,” he says. “Kills me a little to admit that, but—while you were gone, I was relentlessly pissed off. Even the smallest thing ticked me off into a rage. I screamed at Dunlop, for fucks sakes.”

Tim laughs, takes another sip of his water before he closes the lid and puts it in his lap, too tired to reach for the table for the time being.

“What are you sayin’?”

“I’m saying—shit, you really are gonna make me say it?”

“Yeah,” Tim nods. “I’m tired, Raylan. Real tired. Don’t make me ask twice, please.”

“Well--you had a massive heart attack, two seizures, and landed here, so I guess I’ll do the nice thing,” Raylan shrugs. “What I’m sayin’ iis that you are my Achilles heel and unfortunately, I love you more for it every fuckin’ day.”

Tim looks at Raylan, really looks at him, and sees that he means the words he says. The feeling it generates within him is bone deep, so deeply seated within him that when it roars back to life, it doesn’t come as anything close to a surprise.

“What are we gonna do about that, then?”

“Well--knowing whether or not the feeling is mutual seems a decent place to start,” Raylan laughs. “But that’s just my opinion, you don’t need to take that seriously.”

“Raylan Givens, you idiotic bastard,” Tim laughs. “It’s--it’s reciprocated. I reciprocate it so much that my chest has hurt when I’ve thought about you almost every single day for the last eleven years, and—of fucking course we’d have this moment while I’m in a damn hospital bed.”

Raylan laughs. “Okay--that’s good,” he says. “I’m gonna call Dan, I think. Do him a disservice by takin’ two months off so I can help you recover. Rachels already booked you in.”

“I was back at the office within the week last--”

“Your last heart attack was mild,” Raylan cuts. “This one was massive, and I’ll be damned if I let you do that. You’re takin’ two months.”

Tims lips form a line and he presses his head against the pillow. “Fine,” he grumbles. “I’m going to take a nap now.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Raylan laughs. “Likely reeling after Dans finished up yellin’ my ear off.”

Tim huffs, closes his eyes and squeezes Raylans hand, dimly registering that he wants Raylan closer than he is right at that moment but also registering that he’s unwilling to have Raylan as close as he wants while he’s sat up in a damn hospital bed.

A few hours later, when he wakes, he finds Raylan has kept his word and is still sitting to his left.

“You call Dan yet?” He hears, registering immediately that the voice is Arts. “Please tell me he threw a fit and please tell me you saved your laughter til the phone call got done with.”

“I did,” Raylan says. Tim looks at him through half open, exhausted eyes, sees a smile on his face. “He didn’t throw a fit—I explained it before he could throw one and while it stings, he says they’ve gotten used to the office without me.”

“I imagine it’s rather peaceful without you around,” Art laughs, and Raylan just happens to look over to see Tim watching him.

“Hey, sleepy,” he greets. “How ya doin’?”

“Been better,” Tim shrugs. “Also been worse, though, so I’m fine. Are they dopin' me up with pain meds?"

Raylan nods once, and Tim sighs. He can feel it--he's loopy, overtired, and just drowsy enough to be completely honest while completely unprompted in his honesty.

He turns to Rachel, who’s standing to his right. “I feel like I should’ve called Raylan after the first one,” he says. It prompts a laugh from Rachel and Tim mentally celebrates the small victory.

“No shit,” she says. “You’ve gotta stop scarin’ me like that, Tim. My heart can’t take it a third time.”

“Neither can his, I suspect,” Art rebuts. Tim takes a minute to look him up and down from where he stands beside Rachel, and he is pleasantly surprised at just how good retirement still looks on the likes of Art Mullen. He’s sixty-seven now, has been retired for a decade and his skin is still tan as it was last they saw each other. His smile is still the same kind of bright that only comes with freedom from working in law enforcement and his eyes are still very kind. “I mean—a third heart attack will put him in the grave, won’t it?”

“Yeah, which is why he’s retirin’ soon as he hits the damn 20 year mark,” Raylan snips. “Four more years and he’s home free.”

“I never agreed to that,” Tim says. “I’ll be retirin’ when I’m 57 and not a damn minute sooner.”

He turns to look at Raylan and sees his mouth form a line. “I can get behind that, if you transfer to Miami,"

"You're too fuckin' protective," Tim grumbles. "And too fuckin' stubborn. I had a damn heart attack, but just because it's my second ain't gonna mean I take kindly to bein' coddled. I'm a forty-five year old man, for fucks sake."

Raylan smiles. He mouths an apology as Rachel follows on the coattails of Tims words, and Tim doesn't respond.

“I also ain’t approvin’ that request,” Rachel says. “No way. You wanna keep an eye on him like he’s some damsel in distress, you transfer back down here. I’m keepin�� him til he either quits, retires, or dies in the damn field.”

Tim moves his eyes to the ceiling as he seeks out Raylans hand, flexing his fingers as he searches. The idea of being around Raylan and Rachels bickering has never bothered him much--he usually mediates when they're at work because damn it if they aren't so damn alike that they clash, but he has zero interest in mediating while he's sat up in the recovery unit. He decides to stare at the ceiling while he waits for them to quit it.

“I didn’t miss it, either,” Tim feels Art gently push his shoulder. “Their bickering. That was the best part about Raylan bein’ gone before I retired.”

Raylans hand finds Tims and Tim is quick to interlace their fingers. “We aren’t bickering,” Raylan says. “I’d request the transfer if I thought Dan’d approve it.”

“I’ll retire on my forty-nineth birthday if y’all just shut the fuck up,” Tim says, exasperated. “Or--partially retire, or some shit, or work less—just stop. Please, in the name of Christ, quit the fuckin’ bickering.”

Tim feels Raylans lips against the back of his hand in lieu of an actual apology, and Rachel gives his shoulder a sisterly squeeze.

“Sorry,” she says. “I talked to one of the nurses—you'll be discharged five days out, then you get to go home to Roulette and keep your ass there for the next two months. Once you come back, you’re gonna do desk duty for at least the first two weeks after, mkay? I don’t need you havin’ a third heart attack because your heart wasn’t ready for you to be in the field.”

Tim hates the idea of desk duty, hates the idea of two months off with only Raylan and Roulette the cat to keep him company, but he puts up with it because it’s better that he recover fully than go back to work when he’s not ready and risk further screwing up his heart.

“Fine,” he says. “That--that’s fine. I can live with that.”

He can, if just barely. He turns his gaze from the ceiling over to Art and Rachel, searches their faces and finds that the epicentre of their concern exists in their eyes, just like it does for Raylan.

“I’ll come and visit a few times,” Art says. “I’m down here for the next couple weeks before I head back to South Carolina--our trip has extended for reasons that aren't just related to you, I swear it-- and eight hours a day with Raylan drove the best of us crazy. I don’t even wanna think about how awful twenty four would be.”

“Eight of them will be spent asleep,” Raylan rebuts.

“More like ten,” Tim corrects. “I’m--ugh. I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”

Rachel smiles gently. “You tryin’ to kick us out and be nice about it?”

“No,” Tim says nonchalantly because he does want them there—Rachel and Raylan make it easier to sleep, and Arts presence is just kind of weirdly comforting. “I’d actually prefer it if you didn’t go anywhere, I’m just noting that I’m tired.”

He looks to Raylan, blinks tiredly. “Yeah,” he grumbles. “I really should’ve called the first time.”

Raylan smiles, eyes crinkling just so at the corners to tell Tim that it’s genuine. “Well, we all make mistakes,” he says. “Art--there’s a coffee machine just outside if you’re also gettin’ tired? I know I could use a cup.”

“I’m gonna go with him,” Rachel says. “Make sure he doesn’t get lost or anythin’.”

Rachel and Art head out, and Tims shoulders relax just slightly.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Raylan asks. “Like--how worried do I need to be?”

“Not at all,” Tim says. “I’m just tired, ‘n I hate hospitals, and I was so fuckin’ stupid about this stuff last time around—I just—the idea of fuckin’ up my heart for a third time is scarin’ me well past my damn limit.”

“Well then don’t,” Raylan says, laughing at himself a little. “I mean—don't push your heart past its limit. Stop smoking cigarettes, we’ve already covered the no-booze thing extensively. Start eating healthy and keep going for your runs in the morning. Rachel and I are too scared to lose you to let you go off track and I know you’ve scared Art at least close to shitless so he’ll help while he’s in Kentucky, and it’ll be fine. Plus, you only have five more days in here, then you’re home free. Roulette keeps falling asleep on your sweatshirts, by the way—it was real cute at first. Now it’s just real depressin'.”

Tim smiles, soft and gentle and so not like himself. “I miss her.”

“She misses you,” Raylan says. “She’s close to nine weeks old now and she still meows just as loud as she did when you brought her home, I suspect. Loves to sleep on your clothes and splayed out on the arm of the couch. I’ve been lookin’ after her in your absence—she's kept me calm.”

Tims smile somehow only gets softer. He watches Raylan take the center of his top lip between his teeth.

“Are you doin' okay?” Tim asks because he wants to focus on someone elses well being instead of his own for a few minutes.

“I thought I lost you there, for a sec,” Raylan confesses. “I was scared, and I’m just thinkin’--I’m glad I didn’t lose you, ‘s all.”

“Okay,” Tim says. “I’m--I--” he closes his eyes to illustrate the point he’s too tired to speak into existence, and when he hears Raylans snort he thinks he could die happily if he were to die right then.

“Yeah,” Raylan whispers. “Sleep, Tim. You look like you need it.”

He wants to open his eyes, to scoff and call Raylan an asshole, but he refrains, chooses to sleep instead.

Five days later, he’s discharged from the hospital and Raylan takes him home. He spends a lot of his first day being followed around by Roulette like she’s scared he’ll leave again, but when he moves from bed to kitchen to couch and inevitably sits to relax somewhere along that line, she curls up on his lap or in his chest and her purring is as loud as a freight train.

She keeps him calm, usually. Her purring is just barely less than enough to lull him into sleep, but the sound of Raylans breathing in quiet moments usually finishes the job.

The first day is spent sleeping, mostly, unless he’s hungry or has to take a piss—when either of those things occur he slips out of bed while Raylan tells him to take it easy and Roulette abandons her post tucked up against Tims side in favor of sticking to his right, her side pressed against his ankle as one step for him is a good two or three for her.

He grabs something quick—rips a little carton of yoghurt off of the pack he’s had in his fridge since before Boyd had abducted him, rips a banana off the stem and then peels and eats it, or even just grabs a granola bar to tide him over til either the next meal or when he inevitably gets hungry again.

When he’s not eating, he’s in bed with Raylan. Normally he curls in on himself just a little, tucks himself under Raylans chin and takes a deep breath to breathe him in before he’s finally able to settle. Sometimes, he doesn’t even sleep, just closes his eyes and slows his breathing down and tries to fight the anxiety that seems to linger relentlessly, never going away or fading no matter what Tim does.

Eventually, somewhere between nine o’clock on the first day home and midnight on the second, Raylans hands find Tims hair and start carding through it in a bid to get him to relax.

“You’ve been on edge all fuckin’ day,” Raylan says when Tim starts to retreat. “Relax for a second, Tim. It ain’t gonna kill ya.”

“All this time off might,” Tim rebuts. “I know I agreed to it, but—the off time is just more time to be anxious about my heart randomly giving out. I figured I wouldn’t make it to sixty, but fuck, facing that reality is a little scary.”

He stops retreating from the touch once it fully registers, and after a second it actually starts serving it’s purpose—it relaxes him bit by bit, starting in the slightest release of tension from his shoulders.

“You’re not gonna die at sixty,” Raylan says. “Or a minute before then. I have eleven years of time to make up with you so if you die a minute before your fifty-sixth birthday I’m going to lose my shit.”

Tim smiles gently, drapes an arm over Raylans waist. “Give me the next two months to actually think about this, but—I might ask Rachel to transfer me to Miami in the new year.”

“Funny,” Raylan laughs. “I was just thinkin’ about asking Dan to transfer me back to Kentucky.”

“You’d--you’d live here willingly?”

“For at least five or six years,” Raylan says. “Not permanently—I could never stand to live here as long as you have, and Miami is great, but I wanna be where you are.”

“Saying that to me while I’m just tired enough to only be half listening is so, so unfair,” Tim says. His shoulders relax further and the ease spreads down his back, through his legs to the balls of his feet. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow, when we’re actually fully awake. You, Raylan, are going to let me go for a run tomorrow if it kills you.”

“It’s not my death that I’m worried about,” Raylan rebuts.

Tim grumbles, settles further into the bed and closes his eyes, willing his mind to relax along with the rest of his body so that he can go to sleep.

“Running ain't gonna kill me.”

“It might.”

“I’ll--fine,” Tim sighs, presses himself closer against Raylan in spite of himself. “I’ll go for a jog, then, and I won’t touch coffee unless it’s decaf.”

Raylan sighs, content, and Tim decides to shut his mouth for the time being.

Eventually, he falls asleep. It’s the deepest sleep he’s slept in days and he’s all the more glad for it.

The first quarter of his eight weeks off is relatively uneventful—Kentucky is riding out the coattails of autumn and heading straight for winter in a manner that Tim loves more than usual that year, and Roulette just gets clingier everyday.

Art comes around a few times a week, as does Rachel, though they both tend to come around at different times of the day. Rachel usually checks in after she gets off work and then stays for a few hours, and Art is usually around from noon on the dot to four on the dot.

It’s a weird kind of nice to have Art around again—it reminds him of his first bit with the Marshals. Art had been a weird, fatherly-adjacent sort of constant in and around the office, one to scowl but not say a word otherwise when Tim would come in mildly hungover.

It’s odd to see him in a different kind of context that involves Tims shoddy little apartment and usually sitting on the couch or standing in the kitchen versus the one he’s used to in Arts post-retirement era, that being sat across from him at some restaurant with Michelin stars, drinking decent bourbon and making easy conversation.

Art is simultaneously exactly who Tim remembers and an entirely different person, but more in the way that he's a lot more relaxed than he used to be. Working as a LEO, let alone as Chief Deputy, used to have him sort of high strung, even though he was still more lax than even the most unbothered of Tims bosses while he worked in the military.

It’s only at the tail end of the second of eight weeks of off time that Tim is reminded of the fact that Art Mullen is a 67 year old man who had an upbringing entirely separate from Tims both in the general sense and also the generation.

“Were you and Raylan—like—was that--?” Art asks it within the first hour and a half of his four hour visit, and Tim just about spits out the decaf coffee he’s finally started to like on a consistent basis. “I mean, the signs were there and everythin’, but I didn’t ask at the time cause you two worked damn well together.”

“Art!” Tim laughs. “Oh my God—I know Rachel calls you the closest thing I’ve got to a dad for shits ‘n giggles, but what the fuck was that? I don’t think even my daddy woulda asked me about that like you did, and I doubt he'd've asked me about that at all if he were still kickin'.”

Arts eyes go wide, and Tim laughs into his coffee mug as he hears Raylans footsteps tredging out of the bedroom.

“Mornin’, Tim,” Raylan greets, still groggy and likely in that blissful post-cat nap headspace as he speaks.

“It’s the afternoon,” Art says in a pointed tone as Roulette, who’d been sticking with Raylan most of that day despite her usual clinginess with Tim, daringly leaps up onto the counter top to headbutt Tims arm until he gives in and scratches the spot she likes under her chin.

“Coffee?” Raylan asks.

“It’s decaf,” Tim says.

Raylan scowls but grabs a mug anyway, and starts making himself a cup.

“What were you guys talking about?” Raylan asks, one of his hands goes to Tims hip in a gesture that to Raylan is probably idle but to Tim means just a bit more than the world.

“Well, honey,” Tim laughs a bit. “Art just tried to ask me, very delicately, if we were bangin’ back in Boyds heyday.”

“We were,” Raylan says nonchalantly, and suddenly Tim is very grateful for the sheer amount of entertainment that can come from a groggy Raylan who’s woken up from a cat nap and is still not fully there yet. “Next question.”

Arts eyes go wider, somehow, and he chuckles. “You deal with this every single day?” Art asks. “Like--willingly? You know you don’t have to, right?”

“He loves me, asshole,” Raylan grumbles. Art looks at Tim again, quirks one gray eyebrow.

“And--you’re completely sure about that?”

“Unfortunately,” Tim nods, takes a sip of his coffee, applauds himself because the damn grinder Raylan had bought burnt the beans every single time without fail and the maker was old but beloved so automatically not at fault.

“Asshole,” Raylan grumbles. He accompanies the word with a kiss against Tims cheekbone, though, so Tim knows it’s halfhearted.

Tim finally gives in after Roulette does the passive aggressive thing and runs to the wall, only to sprint towards Tims forearm and put every ounce of her energy into headbutting it. He scratches the spot under her chin and when she decides she’s done and claws her way up his arm and to his shoulder, he lets her.

It used to bug him when she did that—the claws in his arms and up his shoulders generated tiny little dot-sized scabs that’d eventually turn into dot-sized scars, but he’s grown to love it as time has passed. She sits on his left shoulder, presses her tiny little head against the side of his neck and purrs herself asleep. It's a cute sight and sound, though somewhat of a nuisance in the mornings when she purrs so loud it wakes him up.

“You love me,” Tim says, narrowing his eyes in Raylans direction.

“Unfortunately,” Raylan echoes. Tim leans against the counter a little, glances at Art.

“We were,” he says nonchalantly. “Tried to keep it under wraps because we knew we wouldn’t be allowed to be partnered on cases and we worked too well together to risk that possibility. Plus—it wasn’t really serious either time.”

“Well, Raylans got a child with another woman so that much is obvious,” Art shrugs. “Is it that serious now?”

“We’re still workin’ out the majority of the details,” Tim shrugs again. “Like--livin’ arrangements and shit, but yeah.”

Art turns to look at Raylan now, and Tim follows his gaze only to see Raylan going for the freezer, grabbing for the frozen meat patties to make burgers in the oven. Tim decides he’s content with that—they have a surplus of those fuckin’ burgers because Raylan likes them that damn much, and Tim has no qualms about what he eats unless he's the one making his food.

“You hurt him,” Art says. “I mean—you do it again, and I will be livin’ out the rest of my days in a jail cell, you hear?”

“Loud’n clear,” Raylan nods. “I hear you.”

Tim smiles at Art, and Art returns the gesture.

It’s nice, Tim thinks—to have the illusion of family for even just a second.

The five weeks to follow go sort of slow in a way that Tim learns to cherish. He starts, gradually, going for runs again. They start as walks with Raylan at no earlier than 9:30 in the morning but gradually progress to jogging by himself at eight and then by the end of his seventh week off, he’s waking up at 6:30, getting dressed into a pair of sweatpants and an old military tee and is out the door and on his run by seven.

He settles back into routines of old even as the seasons continue to change and the month shifts from November into December. He spends Christmas with Raylan that season, orders the pair of them Chinese food and does the dishes while Raylan FaceTimes his daughter.

As December shifts into January and his sixth week off turns into his seventh, he and Raylan have a lot of discussions about their future—it's stuff they can’t avoid, really, not if they want to make it work like they wasted eleven years not doing.

Raylans plan had, initially, been to come back up to Kentucky, but they realized very quickly that that wouldn’t work—Raylan would be unhappy in Kentucky, for starters, and the only reason he was there at all had been for Tims sake anyway, and Dan would never approve of the transfer with them being stretched out that thin at the Miami office.

Tim had spent a lot of time considering it on his end—there was no time difference between Kentucky and Miami, and it was a fifteen hour drive versus two hours total spent in coach on alternating weekends.

In the end, the choice was clear enough, and that was what led him to walking into Rachels office, his shoulders wound up tight and his smile mostly not there.

“Hey,” he says. “I know I’m not due back at work for another week, but—we need to talk, if you’ve got a sec?”

“You’re gonna ask me for a transfer,” Rachel says accusatorily. “Where? Because I love you enough to know that if you go to Miami, it’ll be against the damn law for you and Raylan to be partnered up, which will make Raylan grumpy and then he’ll get angry and lash out, and I’d really rather save you and Dan from havin’ to deal with that. Come in and sit down, I’ve been anticipating this since fuckin’ Christmas.”

Tim laughs, does as she tells him without a second thought.

“Anywhere,” he says. “Look--I know we have our jokes about how we’re gonna leave this state, but--”

“You fell in love with somethin’ that ain’t your job for once,” Rachel cuts. “Look--I’m not mad. I know I said I wouldn’t approve a transfer when you were layin’ up in a hospital bed, but things have changed. I’ve seen how you are with him, with that stupid fuckin’ cat.”

“Roulette is not stupid,” Tim says, immediately jumping to her defense.

“She’s dumb as a box of rocks, Tim,” Rachel says. “She’s cute, and she’d die if you, specifically, went longer than maybe twelve hours without givin’ her attention, but she is damn stupid.”

“She has at least two braincells,” Tim rebuts. “They’ve just never been used—and that, Rachel Eloise Brooks, is entirely besides the point. What do you mean by that, that you’ve seen how I am with Raylan?”

“He softens you up like I’ve never seen anyone else capable,” she says. “You smile at him, and you mean it when you do it. It’s like when you smile at me except when you smile at me, it’s platonic. Whenever you smile at Raylan it’s all romance goin’ through your big, idiotic head. Swear to God, he makes you soft. Makes you comfortable with bein’ vulnerable even after eleven years no contact. I found it funny at first, if I’m honest, but now I appreciate it.”

“You notice too much,” Tim says.

“That’s probably true,” Rachel shrugs. “But the fact that I know you’ve got Raylan in your life again makes this easier—do you know the name Elliot Shephard?”

A brief image of a then 25-year-old Sergeant from his days in the infantry unit flashes across Tims mind.

“Fuck yeah I know that name,” Tim nods. “He was my boss while I worked infantry. Why do you ask?”

“He’s the Chief Deputy at the Newnan office down in Georgia, which is about a two and a half hour drive out from Miami. You cut out an hour of time if you fly down but honestly, I don’t think that’d be worth it. Lexington is father away from Harlan than Newnan is from Miami and there’s no difference in time zones.”

“Well,” Tim shrugs. “I am in my seventh week of off time and it’s January so my brain is foggy as all hell��spell it out for me, please.”

“He called and asked how well staffed we are up here in Lexington. I said we’ve got at least one to spare if you need, and he said that there’s a position he needs to fill come the end of March. Are you in?”

“You sure you can handle another two months with me?”

Rachel laughs. “I’m gonna miss the fuck outta you, Gutterson,” she says. “You best remember to call me once in a while after you’re gone, all right? I don’t got much in the way of family anymore, either, so I do expect an invite down to Georgia at Christmas.”

“You and I have spent Christmas together every fuckin’ year since you left your ex husband,” Tim laughs. “Yeah. You have an invite, and I’ll call you a few times a week.”

Rachel smiles, reaches out and gives his hand a squeeze. “I’ll tell Shephard that I’m sendin’ you down.”

Tim smiles back, tries to ignore the way that his chest aches at the thought of leaving Rachel behind even though he knows he’s going for good fuckin’ reason.

“I’m gonna miss you too, by the way,” he says. “I really do love you, y’know.”

Her smile brightens. “I know,” she says.

They sit in the silence for a while after, basking in it as they would at the end of a long, tough case. Tim cherishes the silence, cherishes who he's sitting in it with because he knows it's not the last time they'll sit in silence before he's gone off to Newnan, but it's the time that'll mean the most.

The last time that Tim goes to the VFW in Lexington, it feels kind of bittersweet. Alexander is leaving to go down to North Carolina and it’s their last session before Tim leaves for Newnan.

“You doin’ all right?” Alexander asks. It’s the end of March, Tim has packed his entire life up to that point into his truck and all he has to do yet is grab Roulette from the Lexington office, where Rachel had offered to watch her while Tim did his last appointment with Alexander, and then he can hit the road and spend the next six hours driving. He’ll be in Newnan for seven if the traffic is good, which he really hopes it is. “I know we haven’t really talked about it because it’s been so long, but you had a damn heart attack five months ago, and then another one what—a month later? How are you doin’ with that?”

That makes Tim laugh. “Good,” he says. “I mean—we’ve talked about it a bit in a few of the appointments we’ve had since my second, and I feel okay about it, I guess. I don’t think about it as obsessively as I used to, don’t think I’ll be dead by sixty anymore. I have a cat, for fucks sakes. If I die before she does, Hell hath no fury quite like mine.”

It makes Alexander laugh, and even though he knows he shouldn’t, Tim considers it a victory.

“You’n the—the guy,” Alexander says. “The Marshal, as I’ve dubbed him. What’s the what with that?”

“The what is that I’m transferrin’ to Georgia to be closer to the asshole,” Tim says nonchalantly. “He’s decided my heart is so gnarly I’m to retire once I hit twenty years with the service but I’m gonna see if I can coax him into twenty-five. We’re tryin’ to figure stuff out for the long term—I'm movin’ to be only two and a half hours out from Miami. We’re gonna make it last. I’m fuckin’ determined about that.”

“Have you guys been talking a lot about the long term?”

“It’s all we can talk about,” Tim laughs. “I dunno—Raylan retires in a bit. I retire in anywhere from four to ten years, and we’ve been talkin’ a lot about it.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Right now it’s lookin’ like he’ll retire come the end of the year, stay in Miami for the next bit til I retire. He’s got a kid he’s down there for and he’s gonna stay down there til she graduates high school in a while yet which makes me hopeful he won’t notice when I fail to retire at forty-nine and retire at fifty-four instead. Seven years out, he’s either going to come down to Georgia and join me in Newnan for the next two years til I retire or I’m gonna bite the bullet’n retire at fifty-two. We’re both winter lovers so we’re thinkin’ relocating to somewheres like Maine in the end. It’s all idyllic right now, none of it actualized, but he told me we either moved to Maine and stayed in the states or we moved to Nova Scotia way across the border because, in his words, they’re “basically the same.””

“Maine, huh? You don’t really seem like the type who’d enjoy that much snow in the winter.”

“I sure as hell won’t enjoy the blisterin’ sun all the damn time,” Tim laughs. “Plus--shovellin’ all that snow in the winter will give either Raylan or myself somethin’ to do for a season. Like I said—it's all idyllic, nothings for sure yet and I doubt it really will be til we cross the bridges we’re only talkin’ about as of now.”

“Everything works out in the end,” Alexander sighs. “That’s your philosophy for now, isn’t it?”

“Nothing worked out for eleven years,” Tim answers. “Right now, I’m in that headspace where I have to make sure it will. I dunno how long that’ll last, but I bet it’ll last for a while.”

Alexander laughs. “Yeah,” he says. “I get that—I've been there. Just try to remember that relationships are games of give and take. You’re not always going to be able to give it your everything and neither will Raylan, but that’s okay. It’s normal, even. You and Raylan will naturally find your footing in time and it’ll work out in the end, even if it doesn’t work out how you’re hoping it will.”

Tim smiles gently. “I’m doin’ everything I can to avoid screwin’ this up, I promise.”

“I know you are, Tim,” Alexander says. “Does he know a lot about your time with the military yet?”

“He knows a lot of it,” Tim shrugs. “All we’ve really had time to do in the past few months has been talk. He learned most of it while I was on leave after my second heart attack, but I’ve only been telling him when he’s been asking. He was like that when we first met—curious about my kills, the longest I’d ever stayed awake, the highest profile target I stuck a bullet into. I was closed off about it then.”

“Did you ever figure out why?”

Tim shrugs. “Something about the idea of being known that intimately scared me half to death,” he says. “And we’d known each other for all of like, a week or two when he first started asking those questions. I hadn’t even opened up that much with my boss of that time, no fuckin’ way was I gonna divulge that shit with some stranger. No matter how handsome said stranger may have been, I had standards then. Standards about who knew about what with regards to the time I served.”

“Standards are good,” Alexander says. “Whats changed?”

“Well--he’s not a stranger anymore. He has seen me naked, and his stupid, deft fuckin’ fingers have touched even the worst of the scars I’d garnered in that time.”

“You let him in.”

“I did,” Tim nods. “For the third time, mind you. Hopefully it doesn’t blow up in my face again.”

“I doubt it will, if it’s of any consolation,” Alexanders smile is bright, and meaningful, and warm. It almost kills Tim on the spot, just a little. “You’ve finally been dealt a good hand. Don’t let that go, Gutterson.”

Tim checks his watch, finds it’s quarter to one. “I promise you, Alexander, I won’t,” he says. “But I’ve gotta hit the road if I wanna make it to Newnan for seven.”

Alexander stands and Tim follows suit. Tim gears up to leave, has been mentally prepared for his exit for the past three months.

Alexander extends his hand. Tim shakes it without thinking.

“I’m real proud of you, man,” Alexander says. “You’re not as rough around the edges as you used to be.”

“That sounds like an insult.”

“It ain’t,” Alexander laughs heartily. “You’ve come a long fuckin’ way, and it’s good to see. That’s all I was sayin’.”

Tim smiles warmly, lets Alexanders hand go for a minute.

“Thank you,” he says. “For everything you’ve done these past six or so months.”

Alexander shakes his head. “Get on the road,” he says. “Get to the good part of life that awaits.”

Tim does as he’s told, heads out of the VFW with some part of the ache in his chest feeling lighter.

He climbs into his truck, stops off at the office to collect Roulette and hugs Rachel as tight as he can because they’ve both always sucked at proper goodbyes.

He gets on the road, knowing that he’s not the same guy he was sixteen years before, or the same guy he was a decade past or even so much as five years ago, but feeling glad for that.

Change, he decides, is not an inherently bad thing. Sometimes, in moments like that one, change can be for the better, and the change he’s making is decidedly so.

#tim gutterson #raylan givens #tim gutterson x raylan givens #givenson #justified #justified fx

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emma-m-black · 4 months ago

Text

The Daughter - Chapter Six

Tim Gutterson x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

This chapter contains an explicit sex scene

Tim Gutterson comes to the unconventional aid of one Elenora Crowder, ward of Art Mullen and daughter of Raylan Givens.

This will be a multi chapter story and will get spicy as it goes. This is a rough draft and only slightly edited for grammar and spelling. Just needed to finally get it out because Tim Gutterson is one of my favorite characters, and there is not nearly enough fanfic for him.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five

CHAPTER: SIX

“I can’t! I can’t anymore!” Elenora gasped out as she crumpled onto the damp green grass.

“Thought you said you could run?" Came the voice of Tim as he moved to stand over Elenora, hands on his hips and a smile on his face.

Throwing her arms and legs out in a starfish pose on the ground, Elenora took a few deep breaths. “I can, I just forgot you are a machine designed by our great country.”

“You are going to have to share the secrets of your girlish figure. You can’t run and you eat ice cream for breakfast. Are you lifting weights while I’m sleeping?”

Elenora swung her leg out to kick Tim, but she could not even get her leg off the ground because of her tight muscles. “You know what? I don’t like you anymore. I think I’m just going to live here now.”

Lowering himself to the ground, Tim laid next to her. Resting on his left side and propping his head up with a hand. Elenora side eyed him as he just stared at her with a smile. His t-shirt was wet with sweat around his armpits and upper chest. His cheeks were slightly rosy from the exertion, and Elenora thought it was a good look on him. She stared at him as he caught her gaze. “What you thinkin’ about Nell?”

“You know now that my daddy is back, my family is gonna start popping out of the woodwork. I’m just scared about what might happen when they find out I’ve been here the last four years. There was a lot of shit thrown around when my momma died. Even some kidnapping on her side of the family in order to keep me here.” Elenora turned her eyes up towards the sky and watched as the clouds slowly moved past.

“Even if, for some reason, you father couldn’t protect you from somethin’ you got me now, and I’m pretty hard set on nothing bad happing to you.”

“I’m more worried about somethin’ happening to you,” whispered Elenora. She kept her eyes up to the sky. She knew if she looked at Tim, she would not be able to keep herself collected and calm. “They wouldn’t think twice about hurting you.”

Elenora felt Tim’s fingers run across her bare stomach and then his palm rest against her side. “It’s a good thing I carry a gun, then.” He said with a laugh, his face coming in above her own and blocking out her view of the sky. “Can we please go back and shower now?”

A smile pulled up on Elenora’s lips. “No. I told you, this is where I live now.”

“Really? I can’t persuade you to get naked and shower with me?” Asked Tim before bringing his lips down on Elenora’s. Tim’s body fully covered Elenora’s in a matter of seconds and her hands pushed up under his t-shirt.

“Excuse me, but this is a public park,” came a voice from near where they were laying.

Tim quickly rolled off and Elenora looked for the owner of the voice. Expecting to see some park goer, Elenora was surprised when she saw a police officer.

“Deputy Marshal Gutterson?”

“Thompson?”

“As much as I love these little meetings, I really need you two to be doin’ this somewhere else. You’re scaring the park goers.” Tim got to his feet and helped Elenora back to standing. “It’s nice to see you again, Ma’am.”

“Sorry officer.” Said Elenora shyly. “We will be leavin’ now.” Looking around the park, Elenora spotted an elderly woman walking what could only be described as a rat on a leash glaring in Elenora’s direction.

“We’ll be heading straight home, Thompson.” Said Tim with a wink of his eye. “Come on Nell, I’ll race you back.” Then he was off, leaving Elenora and Thompson by themselves.

“Oh god, he is going to be the death of me, isn’t he?” Asked Elenora.

Thompson let out a laugh. “Probably, but Gutterson seems to be one of the good ones, congrats on gettin’ him off the market. Now maybe my wife will stop ogling him every time she sees him.”

“I did good, didn’t I.” Said Elenora as she watch Tim start jogging on the spot a little way ahead. He turned and pumped his arms in front of him as he looked at Elenora with a smile. “Well, Thompson, it was nice seeing you again. Perhaps next time, Tim and I won’t be trying to jump each other in public.”

“That would be much appreciated, Ma’am.” Said Thompson with a smile before he turned and began to walk in the opposite direction of Tim.

Working her way into a jog, Elenora caught up with Tim and, at a slightly slower pace than before, they made their way back to her apartment.

When they arrived back at the apartment, Elenora pounced on Tim. Quickly pulling his shirt over his head and off his body. Running her hands down his chest, she brought her lips to his. Their lips pushed against one another and Elenora soon she found the Tim was slowly guiding her towards the washroom.

Then his hands were attempting to pull at her sports bra, but with the combination of its tightness and her sweat, he was proving to be a second skin. “Fuck it.” Tim spoke against Elenora’s lips as he backed her into the standing shower and pushed her onto the tile. Now that his lips had left her, they began to attack her neck and his hands moved to pull down at both her shorts and underwear. Once they were discarded to the side of the shower, Tim ran a hand up her inner thigh and towards her core. His finger rubbing at her nub slowly and Elenora responded with a throaty moan.

“Tim...”

“I love that.” Whispered Tim against her skin, before he brought his head back up to look at her. He rubbed with a little more pressure, and Elenora let out another moan. “The sounds you make when I touch you.” He moved to press the tip of his finger inside her and Elenora found her body curl backwards against the tile and her hands wrapped themselves around his biceps. “I could listen to it all day.”

He cupped her with his hand as he pushed a second finger in and used the heel of his hand to press against her now sensitive nub. A loud moan erupted from Elenora’s lips this time and Tim held her there like that while his other hand moving up to the back of her head to provide her some relief from the tile.

Elenora stood there, her chest heaving in pleasure and anticipation, but Tim just held her gaze and did not move his hands. He just stared at her and the seconds ticked by and Elenora could feel herself clenching around his fingers as her body begged for the friction. “Tim?” Elenora whispered as she held his gaze.

“I’m savoring this, want to sear this image of you into my brain.” Then he started to pump into her. Curling his fingers inside her and pressing them against her inner walls. Elenora whimpered as the pressure began to build inside her.

“Tim...I can’t...” Her knees were starting to go weak, and she was sure in the next few seconds she would be a puddle of ecstasy on the floor of the shower.

Tim’s hand dropped from the back of her head and moved down to wrap around her waist, using his strength and the wall to keep her upright. “I got you. I won’t let you fall.” Tim whispered as he pushed up against her and put his head into the crook of her neck. He pumped his fingers faster, and he slammed the heel of his hand against her, before pulling back and doing it again.

She felt like puddy, being worked by Tim’s hands until, with a slam of his hand, she saw stars. “Ahhh!” Elenora screamed out, and she could feel her body convulse as Tim continued his movements, making her ride out the waves of pleasure. She tried to pull her legs together to try to get him to stop, but he had positioned himself in such a way that he held her one leg away from the other with his.

“Do it again for me.” Tim whispered against her neck and Elenora felt him pull out from her for only a second before reentering, this time with what must have been a third finger as she felt herself strain around the size. He moved at the same fast pace as he had previously and with little time, Elenora was screaming out again as her legs truly gave out and she felt her body tightening in on itself, with Tim being the only thing to keep her standing.

Elenora felt Tim pull himself out of her slowly and just held her as her breathing calmed down slightly. Extracting her hands from him, she noticed that the impression from her fingers lingered on his skin. “My turn.” Whispered Elenora, and Tim’s head came up from where it was still resting at her neck.

His eyes, she noticed, were slightly glazed over, like he was drunk with lust. With shaky steps, Elenora pulled at Tim and had him move to where she had just been, against the wall of the shower. He did not help her when she pulled his running shorts from him. They lay on the tile, still wrapped around his feet, as Elenora lowered herself to her knees in front of him. His cock, which was now free of its confines and standing to attention, was at the perfect height, and without hesitation, she placed her lips around it.

One of Tim’s hands slid across the side of her head as she slid her lips forward and took as much of him in her mouth as she could before sliding herself back. As she reached the tip, she felt Tim’s fingers flex against the back of her head, but he did not put any type of push on her as she took him slowly in once again. Then, when she pulled her way back again, she felt Tim’s finger curl into her hair band and pull in from her hair before she slid him across her tongue and to the back of her throat. It was at the point she felt Tim curl her locks between his fingers and hold her head in place for a moment before allowing her to move.

Thankfully, she never had much of a gag reflex. So she knew what to expect on the next mouthful and held herself in place as Tim pulled at her hair and let out a groan. Then he pulled harder and she let him control the rhythm. It only took a few thrusts before she felt his grip on her hair loosen as he attempted to pull himself from her lips, but she put her hands to his hips and pulled him in as far as she could. Within a second she could feel him shutter and taste him as he came inside her mouth, and she swallowed him down.

Slowly she allowed Tim to extract himself from her and when she looked up through her lashes at him. His eyes were closed, and he had his head leaned back against the tile wall. She watched as his bare chest rose and fell with his quick breaths. “Nell.” Tim whispered, as his chin tilted down and his eyes fluttered open. “That. I didn’t. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Tim, I ain’t gonna do nothin’ I don’t wanna.” Elenora rose to her feet, her knees sore and red from resting on the tile. She shed her bra and tossed it to the floor outside of the shower. Reaching for the tap, Elenora turned on the water, gave it a second to get warm before switching it to the rain faucet above their heads. It was then she looked back at Tim, who was still leaning against the wall and getting hit by the edge of the water, while she got drenched. There was a look in his eyes she was unsure about, and his shorts were still around his ankles. “Tim.” Elenora brought a hand up to his cheek and cupped her hand around it. “You didn’t hurt me. Do you need me to give you an encore to prove it?” She let the hand on his cheek slide down to his chest and rest on his heart.

Tim pushed off from the wall and kicked out of his shorts and put both his hands to the sides of her neck and leaned in, kissing her softly as the water rained down on them.

After their shower, once they had dressed, Elenora stood in her kitchen in a pair of black jeans and a flowy tank top as she tied a red tie around Tim’s neck. “try to keep my daddy out of trouble, please. It’s his first day, and I’m sure he’s gonna try to make an impression.”

“I would like to say how much trouble could he get into on his first day here, but he is your daddy.”

A sly smile rose on Tim’s lips and Elenora responded with a soft slap to his chest after finishing his tie. “You watch it now, or I’ll show you what real trouble is like.”

Tim slid his arms around Elenora’s waist and pulled her to him as he wrapped his fingers around each other. “I think I like your kind of trouble though, so not sure what kind of threat that is.” His lips quickly came down on hers and Elenora felt her toes curl as his lips moved against hers, and his tongue asked for entrance.

Elenora let her hands grip onto Tim’s shirt and her eyes closed in some attempt to hang on to something. The kiss was full and needy, like it would be the last one they would ever have. If he had not have been holding her to him, she was sure she may have fallen over from weak knees. Finally, Tim pulled away and rested his forehead on hers. “What was that for?” Elenora whispered before taking her bottom lip into her teeth and slowly opened her eyes.

“In case your daddy gets me shot today, or shoots me himself.”

“Don’t talk like that. I know what you do, and I know what could happen, but promise me no one is getting shot today, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.” Elenora put her lips back to Tim’s and kissed him with the same passion that he had just used, and then, before she knew it, Tim’s hands were around her ass, lifting her up and placing her on the countertop. His hands transferred from her butt to her thighs once she was sitting, and when she finally was out of breath, she pulled away. “I’m going to pick up my legal name change papers today. Once I sign I’m going to officially be a Givens.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wanted to do it before, but figured I would wait till after school was done. It was easier to wait, but I need to get it done right away for my license.”

Tim smiled. “Elenora Givens. Has a nice ring to it? You tell your daddy yet?”

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise. I was going to swing upstairs before you guys all headed out. Maybe I’ll even bring coffee.”

“Words that melt my heart. You working today?

“Yeah, I have to go into the shop at noon, but I’ll be done at eight if you wanted to come over?” Elenora raised an eyebrow and looked at Tim.

“Twist my rubber arm.”

With the thought of Tim coming over again tonight fresh in their minds, Tim backed himself away from the counter and helped Elenora put her feet back on the floor. “I’m gonna go do my makeup and then head over.” Said Elenora as she stepped away from Tim and towards the bathroom. “I’ll see you in a little bit, Marshal.”

“Looking forward to it, Ma’am.”

Elenora heard the apartment door open and then close, signaling that Tim must have left. Looking at herself in the mirror, she gave her reflection a smile. Tim made her happy, in a way that no one ever had. She felt like the center of his world when he was around her. His kisses, his touch, every word he said would set a fire inside her, and she loved it. Giving her head a small shake, she reached up and pulled at her hair, ensuring her pony tail was set tight, and then placed a little blush to her cheeks and mascara on her lashes. A hanging rack was by the mirror and Elenora took a pair of grey transparent plastic round glasses and placed them on her nose.

After grabbing her purse, phone and a dark green leather jacket, she threw a pair of slip on boots and headed out. As she waited in the elevator, she texted Rachel and asked for everyone’s coffee order. She only lived about six blocks away from the courthouse, so she walked the distance, stopping four blocks in to grab coffee for everyone. Now with a tray full of five strategically placed coffees and a box of doughnuts, Elenora sat on a bench at the door to certificates office waiting for it to open.

“Elenora?”

Turning her head, Elenora saw Wynona standing briefcase and purse in hand, staring down at her like a deer caught in headlights. “Hi Wynona.”

“What are you doing here? How’s school? You’re still in school, right?”

“School’s finished. I teach in the fall and I’m here cause I changed my name.”

“Did you get married?” Wynona’s eye went wide.

“No, I finally got around to taking my daddy’s last name.”

Wynona reached up and played with the collar of her shirt. “I’m sure he would like that. How is your father, by the way?”

“Seems to be good. Sounds like he isn’t completely pissed about being back out here.” Elenora choose her words carefully. She knew her daddy was unhappy at the end of his relationship with Wynona, but you could tell his feelings for her were still there, even after all the years.

“Here?”

Elenora smiled. “Yeah, didn’t you hear? He works upstairs now.” Elenora saw the woman in charge of the certificates department walking towards them, so she grabbed her coffees and doughnut box stood from her chair. “This will be me now. You have a good day Wynona. Hello, Mrs. Rider.”

“Hello Elenora, you got some mighty full hands there.”

“Daddy just got transferred upstairs, so I figured I’d bring him and his new friends some coffee and breakfast. I’m sure they would hardly notice if I let you steal one.” Elenora said with a wink.

“Well, come on in dear, then you can go up with an even better surprise for your daddy.”

“I’ll, umm, see you around Elenora.” Then, like there was a fire under her heels, Wynona was gone down the hall and around the corner.

It only took about ten minutes to get everything in order, and for Elenora to be on her way to the Marshal’s floor. As the doors opened, Elenora took a steadying breath and made her way out into the hall and towards the doors just a short distance away. Putting her back to the door, she pushed one side open and entered the room. When she entered, she looked around the small office and noticed Art in his office with Rachel and her father were seated on the couch and Tim was resting against the gun safe off to the side. They must have been having their welcome meeting.

She noticed Art’s eyes meet hers and then everyone turn their heads. Taking that as her invite she stepped towards Art’s office and Raylan jumped up to open the door for her. “What are you doin’ here, sunshine?”

“Thought I would bring breakfast for you and the team. Couldn’t very well leave them all out.”

Raylan took the tray from Elenora and she watched as he examined the cups, making note of the writing on each one. When his eyes came back up, he scanned the room and Elenora did not miss the fact that his eyes settled on Tim for longer than anyone else, as the younger man reached forward to find his coffee. “How’d you know what everyone drinks?”

“I told her,” Responded Rachel, and she noticed her father’s eyes narrow slightly as if he was thinking about something.

Smiling at her father, Elenora placed the box of doughnuts down on Art’s desk and took her coffee from her father. She then reached into her purse and pulled out the large brown envelope, then held all her new documents. “I also have something else I want to show you.” Holding out the package to him, she waited while he handed off the two remaining coffees to Art before he took the envelope from her.

“What’s this?” Raylan cautiously opened the envelope and pulled out a few of the papers that were in it. Elenora watched as his eyes scanned the first thing he saw, which was a copy of her birth certificate. A document that now read Elenora Emma Givens, instead of Crowder.

“You changed your name?” Raylan had a strange look on his face as he brought his eyes from the paper to her.

Elenora smiled wider. “I changed my name.”

“This means a lot, Sunshine. Thank you.”

“Worked out to be good timing too, because I am fairly certain now that you’re back, anyone with the name Crowder is gonna end up in cuffs.” Elenora saw a hint of smirk tug at Tim’s lips and he quickly took a sip of his coffee to cover it. “Well, I best be leaving you all to it. Gonna head to the DMV, and then gotta’ work at noon. Ya’ll have a good day. Tell Leslie high for me.”

“Will do.” Replied Art with a nod of the head.

Turning herself around, Elenora walked from the room and once she was about halfway into the pen, she could hear her father from behind her. “Eyes up, Gutterson.” Tipping her chin down and biting her lip, Elenora held back a laugh as she left the Marshal’s office.

Hours later, while Elenora was sitting at the counter of the city’s local bookstore, her phone buzzed.

Tim: Well, your daddy knows how to make a first impression...

Elenora: This doesn’t have to do with you staring at my ass this morning, does it?

Tim: Your uncle Boyd threatened his life. Gave him 24 hours to leave town. Apparently asked about you, too.

Elenora: Fan-fucking-tastic.

Tim: Also, it would have been weird if I didn’t stare at your ass. Any self respecting man would.

Elenora: he’s already suspicious ...

Tim: Of course he is. You’re his little girl.

Tim: And I’m an eligible bachelor as far as he knows.

Elenora: Well you are ...

Elenora: I know we didn’t really talk about that sort of thing, and really we’ve only been seeing each other for what a week?

Tim: Nell, you are the only girl for me.

Tim: Except for right now, where I guess the only girl for me is your father. I get to do protective duty on him, that’s a new one. Probably won’t be back anytime soon. If I get to shoot someone, though, I’ll get at least three days off, then I can help you finish unpacking all those boxes.

Elenora: Be careful, and don’t let anything happen to my daddy, please.

Tim: 10-4

Elenora’s hands shook and she could feel the heat boiling up from under her skin. The words she wanted to say were right there. They felt so natural in her head to think about them, like it was something she had said a thousand times before. So really, it was now or never. If her uncle was fixing to take her daddy out, she knew Tim would do everything in his power to ensure that didn’t happen, even if it meant he got hurt.

Elenora: Tim, I think I might be in love with you.

Elenora: So please come back to me.

Tim: Nell...

The next few seconds felt like hours to Elenora, and in that time every horrible possibly of what her words could have done flashed before her eyes. Like she had told Tim before, she had a habit of going to hard to fast. Elenora told herself this was different, that unlike the chances of getting in a car accident on the way home from work, there was a good possibility both her daddy and Tim would not make it through the night. What if she did not say it and she never got another chance?

Tim: I think I might be in love with you too.

Every emotion Elenora had ever felt flooded through her. She was angry at herself for thinkin’ of the worst. She was happy that he had said it back. Ecstatic that he had said more than just ‘love you too’. Sad that she could not say it to his face, hold him, kiss him or hear him respond in kind. The most powerful feeling coursing through her, though, was fear.

Fear that this would be the only time she got to say it. There had always been this fear that her daddy would never come home at the end of the day back when she lived in Florida, but this was different. A sob broke from her lips, and she was thankful that no one was in the store to witness it.

Chapter Seven

#Justifed #Tim Gutterson #Tim Gutterson FanFic #Tim Gutterson FanFiction #Tim Gutterson x OC #Tim Gutterson/OC #Raylan Givens #Jacob Pitts

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acorrespondence · 1 year ago

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plzzzzzzz do this one.

Raylan finds the bar and posts up in the parking lot. The memory hits him, sudden and clear, how he used to wait like this for Arlo, who drank away his afternoons at the Harlan VFW. His palm itches for a ball as he stares at the brickwork, that same old restlessness taking hold. Won’t be long now, and it’ll have somewhere to go.

It’s less than an hour before the man comes out, weaving with drink. When Raylan puts him on the ground, his hat rolls off across the pavement until it hits his truck tire. There, thinks Raylan savagely, almost nonsensically. Raylan takes the butt of his gun to the man’s face. He feels like he did when Boyd lit that match in the mine all those years ago. Like he’s burning up. He loses minutes to it.

When it’s over, the man is wheezing through a broken nose and a busted jaw, blood running down his temple and into his hair. Raylan opens his mouth to check that his airway’s clear, and the man whimpers against his fingers.

“Hurts, huh?” he asks, getting to his feet. He looks down upon the man, who stares up at him through one good eye. “Do you understand, now?” Raylan wonders if he looks older, in the dark. He puts his boot on the man’s neck. “If you ever hurt one of us again, I’ll come back. And I can’t promise our next meeting will be quite this pleasant.”

I’m really proud of this particular scene, so I’m really glad you chose to send this bit! I think there are obvious reasons as to why Raylan is thinking of Arlo in this moment. He’s outside of an establishment serving alcohol, waiting for a violent man: one who specifically targets people he believes to be weaker than himself for reasons they have no control over. Back then, though, the only way Raylan had to get the restlessness out of his hands (and, as it were, attempt to purge and channel his emotions) was by bouncing a baseball futilely off the wall of the building, perhaps imagining it flying straight through the wall and into Arlo’s head, but unable to actually realize that fantasy. Here, he has more recourse, and he takes it.

I think as soon as Tim mentioned the guy’s hat never coming off during the initial assault, Raylan’s complicated emotional reaction coalesced into the following thought: “I’ll make him lose his fucking hat.” This is why the majority of the description in this paragraph is afforded to the fate of the hat rather than the fate of the man. Once the man’s lost his hat, he’s not worth worrying about. The hat, in a sense, basically represents the power imbalance between them; Raylan taking the hat for himself is a symbolic gesture. And, of course, Raylan keeping the hat has broader symbolism outside this single encounter. Because the parallel was drawn between this man and Arlo, Raylan also symbolically wrested this power from his father. In a way, the violence itself is also impersonal. I purposefully refrained from describing any of the effects of Raylan’s actions in this paragraph, instead focusing on the way he felt. He remembers Boyd with the match after the mine collapse because, as touched on in the first chapter, Boyd lit that match in order to take control, in any small way he could, of a situation which they ultimately had no control over: being trapped in the mine. So once again this memory is intended to hint that this moment represents, for Raylan, taking control of a situation that, at least when it played out in his childhood with his father, he had no control over. “He loses minutes to it;” a literal regression of time.

Then, of course, reality reasserts itself, and he comes back to the present, where he’s confronted with the consequences of his actions. He makes sure the man isn’t dead, but not out of any real care for his life; if he’s not alive, he can’t carry this lesson on past this encounter, and ultimately this idea of “being taught a lesson,” so often used as a justification for abuse, is instead being used in retribution for abuse. It’s necessary for this guy to survive in order for Raylan to properly play out the situation (the one he grew up having no control over) in reverse. So, as much as all of this was for Tim, it’s also very much about Raylan and his own demons.

(Ask game here)

#justie2justie communication #skelingtonsderek #my fic #justified #catching bullets #raylan givens #tim gutterson #writing #thanks so much for sending something for this fic justie!#i loved getting a chance to delve back into this version of the character #long post #ask game #justie author commentary

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ckerouac · 1 year ago

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Good lord, Willa SO CLEARLY Raylan’s daughter, how much must confuse/irritate/endear him every time she says or does something and it’s 15 year old him staring him straight in the face?

#justified: city primeval #i love her so much #and god what it must be doing to him to compare him as a father to Arlo but that’s a whole separate post #because is he succeeding in keeping her safe or just letting her down in a different way?#fuck i love them

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ericsonclan · 2 years ago

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Jingle All The Way

Summary: Sophie and Marlon work to find the perfect Christmas toys for their kids.

Word Count: 1472

Read on AO3:

Sophie and Marlon weren’t sure how this had happened. They had been so caught up in all the holiday activities, festivities, and chaotic stress that came with it that they had forgotten something huge. They had forgotten to get the one toy that their two kids had been practically begging them for for months leading up to Christmas: the holiday edition Captain Commando action figure with built-in water jets in the toy’s wrists.

“We’re so screwed,” Marlon rested his head on the steering wheel while his wife sat in the seat beside him frantically scrolling through different stores' online catalogs.

“Maybe ooorrrrr this will just make it a special Christmas adventure!” Sophie spotted the annoyed look on her husband’s face. “Babe, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll both go searching all of today. You already called Louis, I called Vi and they both said they’d help us. Minnie and Ren are looking after Raylan and Marley who were practically bouncing off the walls to spend time with them and Timothy. It’s gonna be okay,” Sophie gently rubbed Malon’s back. The sensation helped anchor him in that moment, pulling him away from the anxiety and potential dread he was feeling.

With a shaky breath he lifted up his head and gave a smile. “You’re right. Okay, let’s find those toys!”

“Hell yeah!” Sophie stole a quick kiss then opened the car door and jumped outside.

“First one to find the action figures gets bragging rights!” Sophie called out then was off like a shot, haphazardly trying not to slip on the icy road as she made her way over to Violet who was waiting nearby.

“Be careful!”

“Yep!” Sophie gave another wave and then was off on her quest for the fabled Christmas toy. Marlon watched her in the car window for a minute then turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the street. He still had to pick up Louis before he could start the hunt.

“I’m still surprised that you and Sophie didn’t get the action figures like a month ago,” Louis caught Marlon’s annoyed glance. “What? All I’m saying is that I got toys for Maisy, Lee Kenny and Juliet in November and that was just the extra gifts.”

“You know what, Lou, if you’re gonna be sassy like that then I can go on my own.”

“No! Come on, Marlon, don’t be like that. Besides I have good intel that those special action figures are still available for sale at the Target right by Crawford Ave.”

Marlon felt a smile pull on his lips at that. He switched lanes to be able to turn on the right street as they approached their destination. He was gonna make Raylan and Marley’s Christmas perfect and beat Sophie at this Christmas toy hunt! He knew he would because he’d do anything to get those toys.

There were no Captain Commando limited Christmas edition action figures there. Instead, Marlon was staring at a completely barren toy aisle.

“Oh damn, well I guess this is why you shop early.” Louis gave an awkward grin when he saw his best friend’s scowl. “Okay, okay, let’s not worry. We’ll go get some hot cocoa then continue to look. This is just the first store after all.”

Marlon took a deep breath and sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just really fucking stressed and I don’t wanna seem like a bad dad because I couldn’t get Raylan or Marley what they wanted for Christmas.” He kept walking until he felt Louis’ hand grab his shoulder.

“Hey, they’re not gonna think that. You’re a great dad.”

Marlon still seemed down in the dumps but he cracked a smile. “Thanks, Lou.”

“No problem, buddy. Alright! To hot chocolate and then the perfect Christmas present!”

“So let me get this straight-”

“I don’t know, can you get it straight if you’re gay?” Sophie sent over a teasing smile to Violet who already looked tired of her best friend’s mediocre jokes. “Okay sorry, continue.”

“You didn’t get some action figures for Raylan and Marley so now you’re trying to find them just four days before Christmas?”

“Yep, that’s pretty much it,”

Violet sighed and shook her head. “You and Marlon are unbelievable.”

“Hey! We got all the other Christmas shopping done! What about you? I bet you haven’t gotten everything you need for Allison and your grandkids.”

“Prish and I got everything weeks ago. A new knife for Allison’s collection, some stones we found during our trip, superhero toys and marshmallow guns for Mitchie and Griffin and cute baby clothes for Wren. Plus a bunch of stuff we found for super cheap and bought on a whim for them too,”

Sophie was speechless. Her attempt to throw it back at Violet had failed. “Okay well, yeah. Whatever, I love my kids!”

“I never said you didn’t,” Violet grumbled, her back hunched and hands stuffed in her pockets. Sophie didn’t seem to pick up on that though and instead was laser focused on finding the action figures.

But it amounted to nothing. No matter what stores they went to, all the action figures of that kind were sold out. Even after a call to check in on the kids where Raylan and Marley went on and on and on about how much fun they were having building snow castles, Sophie’s mood didn’t brighten.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Just take a few deep breaths,” Violet instructed; Sophie listened to the best of her ability. “Feel any better?”

“Nope, I still feel like a bad mom. Okay! Back to hunting! I know that luck is gonna be on my side!” Sophie dashed off before Violet could say anything. With a long sigh she chased after Sophie. She could almost never catch up to her best friend when she was going full speed. Finally Sophie sat down near an escalator, her chest heaving. Violet stood beside her, doubled over in exhaustion.

“Let’s call it a day. You tried your best.”

“No! I’m not giving up yet! There has to be some kind of way to-” Sophie was interrupted when an announcement was made over the loudspeaker.

“It’s time to spread that holiday cheer and what better way than with a chance to win two Captain Commando action figures! Come to the center of the mall if you want a chance to bring home something special for your kids!”

“That’s it! Let’s go!” Sophie grabbed Violet’s hand and dragged her along until they reached the center of the mall where the rules were already being shared.

“...And so if you have the right number on your raffle ball, then you win!”

Sophie grinned. It seemed easy enough. She just needed luck. She bounced nervously on the balls of her feet as she reached into the Santa bag. Violet soon followed suit and the two waited until the numbers were called.

“Number twenty seven.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. Holy shit! She had it! Her excitement made her feel all jittery and she threw her arm up in the air to show off her winning number when suddenly she bumped into someone, causing the raffle ball to bounce on the ground.

“Shit!” Sophie dashed after the ping pong ball, running back and forth down the escalator to try and grab it as it fell but it was too quick. The ball kept bouncing and bouncing until it landed in a kids’ play pit.

“What the hell are you doing!’ Violet called out as she watched Sophie dive head first into the ball pit.

“Winning!” Sophie declared. She kept searching until finally she found it. Using all the strength of her lungs, she shouted, “I have the winning number!!!” She rushed back up and pushed her through the crowd, apologizing until she got to the front.

When she arrived she accepted the toy with an exhilarated grin and stared at it as though she was holding priceless treasure. She was so caught up in the moment. “This is great! Now all we need is for your number to win! Show me your ball, Vi!” Violet rolled her eyes at the wording then grumbled as she held up the lottery ball. Both of them waited with tense breaths.

“Number forty eight.”

Immediately Sophie’s optimism deflated. It wasn’t the right number.

“That’s my number!”

Moments later Marlon moved forward before he spotted Sophie and paused in shock. “Sophie?”

“Marlon?”

“What are you doing here?” The married couple asked at the same time.

“I’m winning an action figure,” Marlon explained as he accepted the prize. A happy laugh left Sophie’s lips at that and he looked over with slight confusion. “What?”

“Guess we didn’t screw up Christmas after all,” She held up her action figure and both of them shared a happy smile. Maybe they were pretty awesome parents after all.

#twdg #twdg marlon #twdg sophie #twdg raylan #twdg marley #twdg violet #twdg louis #twdg marlie #louis marlon brotp #sophie violet brotp #ericson's diner au #twdg christmas #ericsonclanchristmaschallenge #fanfic

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anneswritingnook · 6 months ago

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That Coal is Gonna Bury You

Summary: When Raylan heard the explosion, his first thought was that Boyd was dead. When he finds out what really happened, he needs to see things for himself to prove it. It takes a little more than seeing to believe it... Rating: Explicit Pairing: Boyd/Raylan Also on my AO3 AnneMcSommers https://archiveofourown.org/works/55845760

When Raylan heard the explosion, his first thought was of Boyd. Something had gone wrong with one of the blasts and Boyd was gone. It was something Raylan had thought he got over twenty years ago when he walked out of that mine alive and decided he was never going back, but here he was.

Then when Tom clarified it was a robbery, Raylan's second thought again was of Boyd, this one a little less generous, and he joined Tom to go check it out. Blowing shit up and making money, fuck, Boyd hadn't made it very long on the straight and narrow.

"They were fixing to rob it, and blew themselves up," Shelby was saying, and Raylan could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Fuck, Boyd was dead, Tom had said something about not having found his body, but that had clearly changed.

"Ya, Boyd Crowder, Kyle," Shelby was still talking but Raylan heard nothing because Boyd was dead. Fuck, Boyd was dead.

Boyd was a criminal. Boyd deserved what he got. Raylan tried desperately to rationalise it, to justify it, but the panic clawed at his throat, and he struggled to breathe. Boyd was dead.

"What do you think?" Tom asked, tapping on Raylan's arm, and Raylan shook his head, trying to clear it out and focus.

"Run that by me again," he asked, and Tom nodded.

"A few guys tried to rob the place, threatened Shelby. According to Shelby here, Crowder managed to stop them from killing him, and then the assholes blew themselves up. Crowder had to head home, some kind of emergency, but the timing it a bit suspicious, don't you think?" Tom asked again.

Raylan blinked, "Boyd had to go home AFTER the explosion, " he asked, because he had to make sure he wasn't just hearing what he wanted to hear.

"Yup straight after, mighty suspicious, right?"

Raylan nodded, and Tom kept talking, but Raylan heard nothing. Boyd had made it.

The image of Boyd, dead, wouldn't leave his mind though. "Tom, I gotta head out, I shoulda gone already."

Tom nodded, as if that made sense. "I'll call it in, let your office know that we'll send everything on up to them. Thanks for your help on the draw checks, really do appreciate it."

Raylan nodded, and it felt like he blinked, then he was pulling into Ava's driveway where Boyd's truck sat in the driveway. It was fine, Boyd was alive, he tried to tell himself, but he had to see it, had to see Boyd for himself.

Raylan knocked at the door, and when he got no answer, he pounded on it, prepared to break it down if he had to.

Ava opened the door, and her face went sour. "What do you want?"

"Where is he?" Raylan demanded. "Boyd!" Raylan pushed past Ava into the house.

"I didn't tell you, you were welcome here," Ava yelled, and Raylan whipped around.

"Where is he Ava," he demanded again, louder.

Ava's eyes widened, and she pulled her robe tight around her. Any other time Raylan would have apologized for scaring her, but he had to see Boyd.

"Ava," he started, and she pointed towards the stairs.

Raylan took them two at a time, and then he was whipping open the door to the second bedroom.

There was Boyd, alive, dressed in sweatpants and an undershirt, red and damp from a too hot shower, and alive.

"Boyd," Raylan said, and Boyd's eyebrows went together.

"Raylan, I am not sure what you heard, or what you may think happened,” Boyd started, and he was alive.

"Boyd," Raylan said again, and in two steps he had Boyd pinned against the wall under him, warm, alive.

"Raylan?" Boyd's voice was high, and Raylan didn't care what Boyd was thinking cause he was alive.

Raylan didn't think, couldn't think, he closed his eyes and Boyd was dead. Before he knew it, he was kissing Boyd, then pulling back.

Boyd was staring at him now, eyes wide, mouth open.

Raylan gasped for breath. "You were dead."

"What?"

"They said it was a robbery, you were there, and they blew themselves up, and you were dead. You died in the mine, and I," Raylan broke off, desperate, jamming his forehead into the crook of Boyd's neck. Boyd was here, alive.

"Oh Raylan." Boyd’s' arms were around him, squeezing him, and it wasn't enough.

"You were dead," Raylan said, looking up, and he could see Boyd was there, and yet.

"Com'ere," Boyd said, twisting out from under Raylan, pulling him along walking backwards. He watched as Boyd stopped and fell, pulling Raylan on top of him, then surged upwards crashing his lips into Raylan's. Between kisses Boyd whispered, "It's alright, I’m here. It's alright.”

Raylan pushed down against Boyd hard, and Boyd hissed under him. He pulled away, afraid he’d hurt the man, but Boyd grabbed at his back. "It's alright darlin, you do what you need. I'm here, okay, I'm alright, and I’m not dead."

It was like the word said out loud by Boyd's own lips set something off in Raylan because he was shoving back down onto Boyd, pinning him to the bed. He ground their hips together as he kissed away the noises Boyd was letting out, and Boyd didn't let him go, just held on for dear life.

Raylan knew that he'd have bruises tomorrow, and usually that would have pissed him off, but right now he wanted them, he wanted proof that Boy Crowder was alive. Raylan wanted bruises that would last for days, that he would feel each time he moved, that would let him know that Boyd was alive, because Boyd had left his mark.

Boyd started to buck under him, and Raylan knew the man was close, that this was going to end with both of them cumming in their pants, just like it had the last time. It should have been awkward, they should have been out of sync, it should have been bumped heads, and missed signals, but it was like the last twenty years hadn't happened and it had been only hours since they had last done this, desperate and needing to prove that they were alive.

Boyd bit at Raylan's clavicle, hitting just the right spot, and Raylan returned the favour at the base of Boyd's neck. The hands, the pressure, the friction, it was too much, and he could feel Boyd spasm under him, gasping, breathing, alive. That was all it took for Raylan to go over the edge himself, cumming harder than he had since he was that teenager, who was head over heels for one of the Crowder boys.

Raylan collapsed onto Boyd, knowing he weighed too much, that he was probably more suffocating the man than anything else, but he could hear Boyd's heartbeat under his ear, feel the rise and fall of the Boyd’s chest, alive. Raylan couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the warm embrace of Boyd's arms, because Boyd was alive.

He heard a gasp from the doorway, and Raylan remembered that they were not alone, the door was still open.

"Boyd," Ava sounded frantic.

"S'alright Ava, I'm taking care of him." Boyd slurred, and he could hear Ava sputtering.

"What, Boyd," she repeated, louder this time, and Raylan wished she would leave.

"He thought I’s dead," Boyd said, and Raylan finally summoned the energy to lift his head and turn it toward the open door.

He saw Ava's face go a little softer, the fear turning to confusion, and he wished he could explain, but he couldn't, not now.

"The explosion's on the radio, people are going to come looking for you soon. You," Ava paused, looking them both over. "You two should clean up."

Raylan frowned.

"You got a bag in your car?" Ava asked, sounding amused now, and Raylan nodded against Boyd's chest.

"Alright, I’ll go grab you some clothes, but fuck. You two need to clean up," Ava said, and he heard her walking away.

Ava was right, they should clean up, he couldn't get found like this, not in light of what had happened, but... "Five more minutes?" he asked.

"Ya darlin," Boyd said, and fingers started carding through his hair. Fuck, he loved when people played with his hair. "We can take five more minutes.'

Raylan let out a sigh and melted back into Boyd. Five more minutes would have to be enough, and maybe they wouldn't be the last, because Boyd was alive.

#justified #justified fx #justified fanfiction #fanfiction #boyd x raylan #not safe fw

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preacherboyd · 2 years ago

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Justified | 2x07 Save My Love

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apocalypseornaw · 3 years ago

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Hunters & Marshal Stars- Part Three

Your relationship with Raylan starts to develop. The question is can you keep your real life away from him?

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex

Why the hell had you thought it was a good idea to agree to go out with Raylan? You stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom staring at your reflection. At the moment you were only wearing your bra and panties which meant the view of your bruises from the last hunt you worked was unobstructed.

The headstone had left your left shoulder various shades of purple from the ghouls finding it hilarious to slam you into it. Thanks to some healing balm it didn't hurt anywhere as bad as it should but the fact still remained. If anything happened that resulted in your top slipping any at all the chances of Raylan seeing it was extremely high and you had no idea how to explain it.

You snapped a photo in the mirror and texted Helena "I should cancel shouldn't I?" You stood there poking hesitantly at the bruise for a few seconds before she texted back "Why? Cause of a bruise? You're telling me someone who's been a hunter as long as you can't come up with a cover story?"

"Like what? I got my ass kicked by undead scavengers right before I crispy crittered them?" You were wracking your brain to explain a line of work that could cause a bruise like that when she texted back to suggest "Well you know it was my fault. I thought I had a better grip on that hutch we were moving at Jess' shop"

You laughed and texted back "Good story. Bobby would be proud how fast you came up with that" you started to get dressed but stopped to read her text when your phone chimed. It simply read "Have fun"

You parked outside the restaurant Raylan had asked you to. He had wanted to pick you up but after you'd playfully teased him about the fact that while you appreciated him being a southern gentleman you wanted your car just in case the date didn't go well he'd relented.

You spotted him standing near the entrance as you climbed out the car, smoothing a hand over your borrowed outfit hoping it looked as good as Helena had said.

From the way Raylan's eyes were trailing over you Helena must have been right because it was easy to see he liked what he saw at least.

You stopped just in front of him "Well Marshal do I look presentable?" He smiled, his tongue flicking out to run across his teeth "Y/N you looked gorgeous cussing me out for running into you but lord I think everyone in there is gonna be jealous when I walk in with you" you rolled your eyes despite the smile that had worked its way onto your face or the fact that you could feel your cheeks warm from his words "Aren't you the sweet talker?" "Ain't sweet talking if it's true there darling" he replied offering his arm.

------

It didn't occur to you that you hadn't gone on what could be considered an actual date since Sam and Jess had set you with one of their friends.

Not only that but Raylan was genuinely attentive. He asked how you'd come to be in Miami since it was clear you weren't from there either. You decided to be as truthful as possible and simply told him you'd lost someone close and needed time to get your head on straight so a friend had offered you a job.

You even managed to slip into casual conversation how your shoulder was bruised from helping to move a large hutch.

------

Raylan, as it turned out, was from Kentucky. He was divorced. His wife had apparently cheated on him with their realtor when he'd been reassigned to Miami and they'd been tasked with selling the house they'd owned. You could see it had hurt him and wondered why it had even happened.

"Cheating shows not only weak morals but weak character as well. What would it have taken for her to simply tell you she was through before being with another man?" You didn't realize the edge your voice held until you glanced up to see Raylan was looking at you with a semi amused expression. "Sorry just cheating rubs me wrong" he laughed lightly "Me too but let's move to a different conversation than my ex wife. I know I can think of quite a few things I'd rather talk about with a gorgeous woman who's been a bit vague at best about where she hails from"

You smirked at him across the table "Gotta work for your answers cowboy. Show me you're worth the effort" the look in his eyes told you the unspoken challenge in your words had seeped through. "Oh well I take it you're not an open book so does that mean I may rate more than one date?" He asked and you shrugged despite the way your stomach had flipped under the intensity in those hazel eyes being focused solely on you "Maybe so. You're doing pretty well so far"

------

"Do you have all the local ice cream places mapped out or something?" You asked following Raylan to one of the tables just outside the ice cream shop where you sat atop it.

He stopped just in front of you before asking "Why. You don't like ice cream?" You motioned to the trash can where you both had thrown away the napkins that were the only things left of your cones. "I like ice cream well enough but hell the day you bout knocked me into traffic you were coming out the ice cream place"

He smiled "Well I consider that a bit of good luck meeting you" You shook your head "Still working on that second date?" He nodded "How am I doing?" You pretended to think about it for a moment then shrugged "Depends"

"On what exactly?" He asked so you shrugged nonchalantly "Depends on if you're a decent kisser or not" "Is that you giving me the ok to kiss you or for future reference?" You rolled your eyes before reaching out for his hand "Actually cowboy, that's me asking you to kiss me"

He smiled and reached up to take his hat off with his free hand lying it next to your hip on the table then leaned closer "Well in that case" one hand moved up to cup the side of your face while the other he laid flat against the table almost touching you.

The moment his lips brushed against yours you let your hands smooth across his chest then up around his shoulders to rest in his hair pulling him closer to you by the soft locks. He tasted like a mixture of the bourbon he'd had with dinner along with the vanilla ice cream and his lips were unbelievably soft.

You whimpered slightly when he pulled away only to have him shoot you a smirk before going back for another kiss rolling his tongue against yours in a way that had you biting back a moan as his hand that had been on the table moved to your hip pulling you closer to the edge of the table.

The sound of a throat being cleared made you both snatch away from each other. You hide your face in Raylan's chest enjoying the scent of his cologne as he apologized to the shop owner who was apparently named David and knew Raylan well enough to know the two of you hadn't meant to get carried away in the moment.

Raylan's hands moved across your back soothingly before a deep laugh rumbled through his chest causing you to look up at him. He looked almost proud of himself before asking "Since we nearly got public indecency charges had David not realized it was me I'm guessing I get a second date?" You laid your forehead back over against his shoulder before saying "Gonna have to say yes cause damn if the main course is anything like the appetizer I've got to say I fear for your ex wife's mental stability"

With two fingers under your chin you let him lift your face to meet his eyes and smiled at him before a rush of doubts flooded your mind. Yeah he was a Marshal, his job was dangerous but yours was worse. Could you allow yourself to get close to him? Was it worth the risk?

A flash of green eyes flickered through your mind along with the memory of a night spent drinking with the boys as a promise that the three of you would always have each other. Now Sam was gone, Dean was with Lisa and her son and here you were in Miami. You missed them both so much but you knew just as Sam had made Dean promise to keep living he'd want you to do the same.

You regretted leaving Bobby but he understood why you had. He'd also convinced Dean that while you were staying with Helena you weren't actively hunting most of the time so that kept Dean from using you as an excuse for walking away from the closest to normal he'd ever had. Lying to Dean the last couple times you'd spoken had felt wrong but it was for his own good.

The change in your thoughts must have shown on your face because he frowned "Did I do something wrong cause you went from smiling and flustered to looking a thousand miles away" you shook your head quickly "You did nothing wrong cowboy. Just the past comes creeping up when you least suspect it"

"I understand. You wanna do something else or you wanna call it a night?" You smiled earnestly at the concern clear in his eyes before saying "Might as well call it a night" he nodded before his eyes flicked down towards your lips. You laughed and pulled him back down for another quick kiss "Walk me to my car?"

He smiled then picked his hat up "Of course"

------

You stopped next to your nova and saw the way Raylan looked over the car in appreciation. "No wonder why you wanted your car"

You smiled proudly "One of my closest friends and the nearest thing I've ever had to a father got her road ready for me. Let's just say this car has been a lot to me over the years" he ran a hand over the hood "She's a beaut. Matches her owner perfectly"

-----

With a final kiss goodnight you pulled away with a promise to text Raylan when you got home. It was weird someone you hadn't known for long being concerned for your well being but it was a good weird.

"He's proven to have more staying power than I originally thought" you admitted to Helena as you helped her prepare herbs to be dried. She glanced up smiling through the crimson waves that had fallen forward over her amber eyes "Have you slept with him yet?"

You shook your head "No but hell I've had to avoid seeing him face to face for the last two weeks so my face could heal up!" You'd ended up running up to Georgia to back Emilia on a hunt and let's just say the arachne didn't like you any more than you liked it. You'd gotten caught up between Emilia trying to get the survivors out and the pissed off creature.

You had stayed at Helena's for two days so she and a few of the other witches she practiced with could keep an eye on you to ensure that none of the poison had infected you when you'd gotten slashed.

She motioned to your face "Well you're healed up. I say call him to go out again.." She trailed off then raised her eyebrows "Unless there's something else holding you back?" You shook your head but before you could open your mouth to say anything your phone started ringing.

One glance at the screen where it laid between the two of you caused her to laugh "Well speak of the devil" you picked up the phone to answer but not before saying "Bite your tongue. That asshole snapped my neck!"

She rolled her eyes playfully as you answered "Hey cowboy. Me and a friend were just talking about you" she winked at you before muttering "and the fact that you haven't given him a ride yet" "Will you stop woman!" You fussed which caused Raylan to laugh whether he'd heard her or not you weren't sure.

"Well you sound like you're feeling better" he spoke, getting your attention back on him instead of Helena's teasing. "I am. I was actually thinking about calling you to see if maybe we could finally reschedule the date we had planned when I got sick" "Sounds good to me darling. How about tomorrow night. If you're free?" You cut your eyes at Helena before saying "I'm free so I guess it's a date then?" You could practically see the smirk on his face when he replied "Guess so"

You walked next to Raylan out the restaurant letting a smile slip onto your face when you felt his hand resting at your lower back. "So what now?" You asked once the two of you made it outside into the warm night air.

He let his hand move from your lower back around to rest on your hip as he faced you "What did you have in mind?" He asked and you bit your bottom lip in thought before finally deciding to just bite the bullet "Well I haven't seen your place yet"

A slow smile crept onto his face "It's nothing too flashy" "I'm sure it's just fine" You replied pulling him down into a kiss.

------

The thought honestly hadn't occurred to you until you were partially underneath Raylan on his bed that you had a few scars.

When he helped you to pull your shirt off his mouth found its way to your neck. You bit back a moan when he hit your pulse point but it hadn't gone unnoticed by him because he smiled against your skin "Well darling if we're doing this I wanna hear you"

"Raylan.." you tried but trailed off when his mouth moved further down your chest. You knew the scar across your stomach was the worse so you tried again "Raylan..stop"

He froze leaning up to see your face "What's wrong?" You had to take a breath to keep your voice steady before saying "I um have a couple scars. A few are kinda bad so I didn't want it to be a shock" he raised an eyebrow and you could see where his mind went before he ever asked "Did someone hurt you?" You quickly shook your head "No"

He nodded, catching your lips in a passionate kiss when he pulled away the smile he had made your stomach do a flip "In that case can I get back to what I was doing?" You nodded "Please"

------

It had been longer than you cared to admit since you'd slept with someone and Raylan seemed to be an apology of sorts from the universe for that. The way his hands felt on your skin, calloused from use but still soft. The way his lips mapped their own path over your body determined to find every spot that would draw a breathy moan or a curse of his name from your lips.

------

The end of the night found you curled up to his chest completely spent. He ran a fingertip across your anti-possession tattoo that adorned your right shoulder blade "What's this mean anyways?" He asked sleepily.

You glanced up at him with a yawn before answering "Just a protection thing. Me and a few friends got it at the same time" it was pretty close to the truth actually "If it protects you then I'm all for it" He replied and you smiled "Still sweet talking huh cowboy?"

He glanced down to where your bare bodies were intertwined "Must work at least a little" you rolled your eyes but leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his lips "I guess so"

@guineapigcuddleparty @m-winchester-67 @universallyraylangivens

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #raylan givens x reader #raylan givens x female reader

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talesofphantombandits · 3 years ago

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Zero to Six ~ I’ll Fight to be Apart of this Family - Edited Version. Part 5.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC)

Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ��Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c, @angelic-demonss

“Are we just not going to discuss the stranger in the room? why is the bartender here?” Four smirked at Zero. She in turn just raised her eyebrow at the blonde haired beauty, daring him to continue. “And why is Five giving her first aid?”

The room went silent, everyone was looking at Zero like she was the enemy, and in a way she was. This group of people were the closest thing she had to family and yet she was an impostor, an outsider who’s voice was the only thing the team had ever heard that’s the only thing they knew her by. She hoped One would forgive her for what she was about to do.

Zero coughed away any last nervous about coming clean. "You know for what you guys do, you are all so dumb sometimes."

Zero in return heard a hiss, her head snapped to the direction it came from. She was faced with One, his face and neck had gone completely red with how angry he was. A look that told Zero to shut her gob if she knew what was good for her.

"What?!" Was she really that surprised? It was One after all, did she really think he’d just let her spill the beans right here, right now when he’d kept her away for so many years.

"She, she just stumbled in here after the bar fight, and the doctor couldn't resist helping her." Zero looked from One appalled, to Five who was just as taken a back as Zero was. Her eyebrows furrowed as she gave a concerning look between the both of them.

Zero couldn't help but clock onto the suspicious glare that Two was giving her. She definitely knew the truth, she was an incredibly smart woman and Zero wouldn’t be shocked if she didn’t know the moment she walked into the room. She looked back to One who she could tell was getting more and more worried over the glances everyone in the room was giving Zero.

"Your name was Lilly right?" One asked marching up to Zero and grabbing her hand, but Zero shrugged it off "Come on I'll take you home."

Everyone was looking at One like he'd lost his mind, the team was supposed to be a secret so why would he offer to take a stranger home? The air was so thick in the kitchen that even a knife wouldn’t cut it. To make matters worse Four was starring Zero down with such ferocity she thought those ocean blue eyes she’d only seen in photo’s would melt her to the ground. She just raised her eyebrows at the man again, more threatening this time. Zero was brought back by the tug on her arm, she hissed back at One but jumped down off the counter anyway. As she slowly made her way pasted Five she quietly thanked her for being there to help her as best she could for the night.

“Who is she One?” Three pressed on, One looked like he would explode any moment, the man who never seemed to make such stupid mistakes had nearly revealed one of his biggest secrets. “No one, she’s no one. Just a normal bartender.” Zero stopped abruptly which also dragged One to a stop as his hand was still around her arm. When he whipped around she took the opportunity to strike the man straight across his dumb face.

One looked at her shocked, she herself was in shock at what she had just done. Had she actually just assaulted him? The man that had saved her life all those years ago, gave her food and shelter, she owed him everything and she had just straight up assaulted him. She looked at her hand that now slightly stung in shock, as did everyone else in the room. One’s shock only lasted a couple of seconds before his face turned stony cold and once again he latched onto Zero’s arm and headed towards the door.

After everything that just happened Zero couldn’t help but still be memorised as she approached Four, he was breath taking, a beautiful sight to look at. It was almost like looking into the blinding sun that eventually you had to tear your sight away from, in case of damage to the eyes.

She felt a wave of sadness overcome her suddenly, she had been so close to Four actually knowing who she was, she’d been close to the whole team knowing it was her. God even one normal conversation with him probably wouldn't have satisfied her enough but it would have been a start at least. Yet One just had to take even that away from her, while she was grateful for everything One had done for her, he was still in turn hurting her. What she really needed was a real family and she had found that in these guys but One was always in the way. If her only way was to fight to be apart of this family, then so be it.

"Hurry up" One snapped out angrily, there was definitely going to be consequences for hitting him and she knew it. But she was done being alone.

Zero looked back at Five who was still in shock and what looked like awe, she seemed to blink back to a little normality when she caught Zeros eye again. She gave Zero a ‘You’ll be okay’ look and a little nod, Zero was happy to know that she at least had Five to rant to afterwards when everything with One had settled.

As Zero got closer and closer to the little blonde shit leaning on the door frame she swore she could see him smirking at her, she had to also fight the urge to slap him into next week as well, he’d just seen it first hand so he should be scared. But as she crossed the thresh hold of the hotel kitchen his hand that was hanging by his side brushed against hers and it felt like lightning shooting up her arm, across her shoulder and up the side of her neck. She tried not to show the shiver it sent down her spine but the urge was taking over her. She met his eyes again and to her surprise she saw the same reaction but he quickly hid it. A sudden desired to leave struck her so she decided to just keep walking after One, who had steamed ahead of her.

Once outside she felt like the mist in her mind had cleared a little, but as soon as she saw One angrily waiting beside his car she suddenly felt all the anger rush back. "What the actual fuck One?!" She screamed marching her way to the passenger door.

He opened up his side of the car. "Shut up and get in the car." He said calmly which scared her more than if he had shouted it at her, he got in the drivers seat but slammed the door shut which made her jump in turn. Zero just huffed, not wanting to get in more trouble than she was already in.

"Where are you taking me?" She sighed defeated.

"Home." He said shortly.

"Why?, why did you do that?"

"Do what? A better question is why did you hit me?!" He didn't look at her but she could tell with every word he spoke he was getting more angry.

"Okay in my defence, you were being a dick! you make me think I was finally becoming apart of the team, which then you revealed was just a ‘mistake’ I think you’d also feel like punching someone if you thought you were finally getting the family you deserved just to have them ripped away from you in the same moment!" I tried so hard to not to scream my lungs out at him but the more I spoke the harder it got.

"You knew that they weren't suppose to meet you! Why are you suddenly surprised. I told you when we first made the team that this was how it was going to be and you agreed!" One spat back.

"I did agree! but I was still in a bad place at that time and I wasn’t looking for friends let alone a whole family, I didn’t know that I was actually going to find a sense of security in these group of strangers did I!” The tears started to stream down Zeros face, she could taste the saltiness of her tears with every drop. “I want to go back! I want to complete the rest of the mission, I’ve come this far there is no way I’m bailing out now, just to go sit in that apartment manning the coms by myself for the rest of eternity."

"No." He deadpanned, which made Zero even more angry. Had he not listened to anything she had just said to him? Did he not see just how much this mattered to her.

"One I’m not afraid to knock you out and drive there myself, I think I just proved that back in the kitchen." He just raised his eyebrows at her, like it was a challenge. "Come on One! why are you doing this to me? Why are you keeping me hidden? What do you gain from it."

"Because your job is best done in a flat somewhere, anywhere. Where no one can trace you."

"Bullshit!" Zero screamed which made One forcefully pulled the car over to the side of the road, the suddenness of the stop made her surge forward a little but luckily her seat belt prevented her from travelling any further forward.

"Please just tell me the truth." She said quietly, by this point she was drained physically and emotionally. "Why do you keep me away? and I don't want any of your bullshit. You and I both know I can do my work in any environment."

"I just want to keep you safe." One kept his focus straight ahead, staring out of the windscreen into the darkness.

"What do you mean? Since when have you ever cared about anyone's safety on this team?" I asked confused.

One had few rules, but one of the main rules that One lived by was if anyone gets stuck on a mission they are to be left behind. The team can never be exposed, so if one of them gets left behind because of capture or injury then it's just the price the team has to unfortunately pay.

"You were the first person I found." He slowly turned his head to look at Zero, this was the first piece of real emotion she’d ever seen from the man. She just looked at him confused and rightly so.

"Why does it matter who came first? I thought you weren't meant to care about any of us?"

"I’m not." He shrugged now trying to seem like he wasn’t intrested in the conversation anymore, hoping she’d drop the subject. "But you were the first member of the team, You were in a very bad situation when I found you. I do actually have human feelings you know and I guess, In a way I grew fond of you."

Zero didn’t know what to feel, was she actually touched by this? She’d known One for a few years now and this was the most emotion she’d ever seen the man show, although she did think of him as closed off and cold he’d still saved her so in some way she rested him. "So why keep me away?"

"I didn't want you to ever get hurt, It would hurt too much to leave you behind if you got stuck. But it's a price i'd have to pay."

"Then don't, what you’re saying is that deep down, somewhere in that cold heart of yours you do actually care for this team you’ve created. So change the rule. We all need to be there for each other, especially now." I said reaching out to him.

"You know I can't do that. The mission comes first." His voice grew cold again and she knew she’d never see his vulnerable side again, shrugging off her hand he turned away to stare back out into the darkness.

"Then at least take me back to the team. I can work at the base, I don't want to be alone anymore One." He looked at her dead in the eye. "I’m starting to go stark raving mad staying in those apartments by myself not seeing anyone for years on end takes a toll on a person."

"You're hurting me more by keeping me away from them."

They both sat there for a moment in silence as Zero watched the cogs in One’s head turn, she thought if she pushed enough maybe, just maybe she’d get her way for once.

"Fine.” Did he just agree? “But I’m warning you now, if you get left behind on a mission, or injured I’m not coming back for you." He started up the car again, eerily calm It always annoyed her to no end that she could never figure this man out.

"I've known that since day one." He didn’t say another word as he turned the car around and sped off.

When they reached the base she was shocked to see just how many old and broken down planes One had collected over the years. "You’re still collecting them I see"

"Even got one or two that actually work." He mused.

It may have seem like a childish thought given the circumstances but Zero honestly couldn’t wait to explore every single aircraft in the graveyard. One had made it up the long dirt road by the time Zero came back to her senses, the car stopped and she could see a big crate in front of her and standing outside the only door was a great big dog.

"Hey boy it's fine, she's with me." The dog then ran to One’s side and he started to pet him affectionately.

I just scoffed, raising my eyebrows at him. “What?”

“So the dog gets your affection but we don’t?” Zero grabbed her chest, gasping pretending he’d hurt her heart but One just rolled his eyes at her and told her to stop being so dramatic. He then guided her up to an aeroplane that had a cartoon of a ghost with three lightning bolts shooting out of its hand near the entrance.

Zero laughed to herself. "I like that!" Pointing to the symbol.

"It’s in honour of you and your spooky shit." She looked at him shocked. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

She let him walk ahead of her so she could get her bearings, what came next was going to be a big shock to her system.

"One, you're back! I’m going to need you to spill, who was the bartender? Come on you’re never nice to anyone! Let alone giving a stranger a ride home." As soon as Zero heard that annoyingly sexy British accent she stopped dead in her tracks.

"I'll let her tell you herself."

Then there was silence. It finally hit her that she was about to meet the only family she’d ever known.

She was mostly scared because all she wanted was for them to like her, which she knew they already did but now, seeing and being with them in the flesh she didn’t want to mess their connection up. Especially with Four. She couldn’t deny that her and Fours connection even just through coms was a strong one, she just didn’t know what that connection meant yet but she was definitely excited to find out, she just hoped her feelings for him aren’t one sided.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, then rounded the corner.

"Hey guys." She smiled at all their awestruck faces, she gave a little awkward waving but internally scolded herself afterwards.

Everyone but Two looked at her in shock, she just had to laugh, that woman was too smart for her own good. "Well darling, the anticipation is killing us." Fours dark eyes were trained on Zero as he leaned on the table, she swore in that moment her legs turned to jelly.

"Well if you'd actually let me speak you'd find out sooner, wouldn’t you monkey boy." Her words seemed to snap something in him as he shot straight.

Everyone else just laughed as the realisation of who they were meeting struck them. She just smirked at them all, finally she could be in on jokes, eat with them and just get to be around the people she cares about most in this cruel world.

"Zero?!" Three said enthusiastically, bounding towards her and scooping her up into a bear hug.

She felt like all the air was being squeezed out of her but she didn’t mind one bit. "Glad to see there are actually some smart people around here.” She chocked out.

“Three can you please release Zero, you’re literally suffocating our only hacker.” One said annoyed while he was fiddling with some magnets.

Three let her down and she just smiled, patting him on the shoulder to let him know she was okay. "Sorry! Sorry, I’m just so excited to finally meet you mami!" He proceeded to kiss both of her cheeks.

She just laughed at how adorable he acted in person, Three had always been one of her favourite ghosts. He wasn’t the smartest and most of the time made the worst decisions but he was sweet and funny and wouldn’t waste a single second if you were in trouble, he’d be by your side.

"Well dam." Four was leaning with his back against the table, arms crossed and staring Zero down. Her eyes travelled to his and she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

Someone in the room, Zero couldn’t tell who coughed awkwardly which snapped both Zero and Four out of their intense staring competition.

“So, the new mission?”

#6 underground #6 underground four #6 underground fanfiction #6 underground billy #6 underground x reader #billy #billy x oc #billy x reader #billy x scout #four #four fanfiction #four x reader #four x zero #four x oc #zero to six edited version

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blackleatherjacketz · 3 years ago

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We Dug Coal Together: Title of Your Sex Tape: Chapter 6

Brooklyn 99 x Justified

Summary: Boyle and Diaz interrogate Crowder while Captain Holt bonds with Gutterson. Holt finally gets under Crowder’s skin.

Warnings: Talks of murder, heartbreak, bigotry, lots of eye contact, confessions.

Featuring: Captain Holt, Boyd Crowder, Tim Gutterson

Word Count: 2207

Read the rest of the story HERE!

Crowder relaxed in his chair as the door to the interrogation room opened, screeching against its hinges as Boyle entered the room just behind Diaz. Holt watched the suspect’s features drop from behind the glass, the hope of seeing Givens one more time evaporating before him like water on a hot stove as Boyle sat down across from him.

“Well, I know Raylan is here, he brought me into this very room. I suggest you get him back in here to interrogate me, or I’ll be on my way back to New Jersey.”

Detective Boyle opened the Manila folder in front of him, spreading the crime scene photos of Supposed Doug Judy’s murder out onto the table like a deck of cards. “You don’t get to make demands, Crowder,” he pushed one of the photos forward, “We do.”

“Why son, that is a terrible sight, do you show everyone these grotesque images?” He sang without even looking at them.

“We know you were working with Doug Judy, we know Elmore Asimov came to visit both of you in prison before the two of you escaped.” He pulled the photo of Asimov out of the file and pushed it in front of him. “He owned both of the properties we searched today, including the one we found you at this afternoon.”

“Is my DNA anywhere near this murder scene?” Crowder leaned forward, palming the photos as he stared Detective Boyle in the eye.

“We’re waiting for the samples to come back from the lab, but when they do, I’ll bet dollars to donuts it has your name written all over it.” Boyle dropped the octave off his voice, a sort of grit taking over that Holt recognized he did only when he and Peralta were practicing accents for undercover characters.

Holt held his breath as he watched him stare down this convict, crossing his arms as Marshal Gutterson leaned against the table behind them. “You know we can just take him back to prison, right? Interrogate him there?” Holt felt his deep azure eyes gloss over him, sizing him up methodically before he bothered turning his head.

“Yes, I know. I’m also aware that the man in those photos is most likely who Peralta fears it to be. We’re not bound by a timed hold here, we can keep him here as long as we need to.” He paused and took his time looking him over in return.

Marshal Gutterson was fit, dressed only in simple colors and patterns that served the purpose of comfort, concealment and efficiency. His boyish good looks were almost lost in his simple clothing choices, but Holt knew that if he were unwed and a younger man, Gutterson would be someone he might consider pursuing. “How long have you known Givens had a salacious past with Crowder?”

“Always had a hunch.” Gutterson placed his hands on his hips. “Raylan thinks he’s a good liar by telling half truths, but his eyes give him away every time.” He watched as Boyle and Crowder continued to banter back and forth, the names Gomer Pyle and Hannibal Lecter being thrown around carelessly.

“So, how long have you been out?” He made sure not to look at him directly when he asked, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared straight forward to hear his answer.

“Since I joined the force. It’s never been something I’ve tried to hide.” Holt stated matter of factly. He glanced over as Diaz came out from her perch on the corner wall, playing her usual role of Bad Cop.

“And that’s worked out for you in law enforcement?” Holt noticed the muscles in his shoulders relax with the question, his face still directed forward.

“It came with its challenges, as I’m sure you know.” Holt baited, watching for any tell to let him know if he was off base. He saw him eyeing the pride flag on his desk earlier, a look of relief coming over him that he knew all too well.

Gutterson sighed, crossing his arms over his chest to mirror Holt’s stance before opening his mouth to speak. “Kentucky isn’t New York, Sir.” He twisted his lips in a sad sort of smile, one he might use when giving someone bad news.

“I see.” He paused for effect, acknowledging that he understood his predicament. “Does Givens know?”

“He’s too self-involved to notice. I could have Vulcan ears and he’d never bother to ask if I was an alien.” He waved his hand as if to brush the idea off. “Hell, I’m surprised he even figured it out about himself.” That sad smile turned upwards, wrinkling the skin around his eyes and mouth before a small laugh escaped his lips.

“There’s a U.S. Marshal service here in New York,” Holt offered quickly. “If you ever needed a reference, I would be happy to write you a letter of…”

Diaz slammed her fist onto the crime scene photos between her and Crowder, nearly climbing on top of the table to get closer to him before Boyle attempted to pull her back.

“Excuse me.” Holt whispered to Gutterson. He took a step forward and knocked loudly on the glass, pressing the button to speak into the other room. “Detective Diaz! That’s enough!”

Captain Holt sent the rest of the squad out to lunch with Givens and Peralta, letting Crowder sit and stew in silence for an hour as he looked over his file for the tenth time today. He looked up at him every few minutes, wondering what Givens saw in him all those years ago, or perhaps even still. He understood the power and charm of a narcissist on a logical level, but couldn’t imagine being in a position himself to ever be vulnerable to his empty promises. Perhaps he should consider himself lucky not to have that on his list of obstacles to overcome.

“You must be Captain Raymond Holt!” That charm turned back on as soon as he entered the room.

How exhausting that must be for him.

“Do we know each other?” Holt eased himself through the doorway, taking his time to close it behind him as Gutterson finished his lunch in the adjacent room.

Crowder laughed, that maniacal look twisting his features into an almost jester-like appearance. “Well no, we do not, but I know plenty about you and your husband, Kevin Cozner, who looks after that little dog of yours, what’s his name again? Gouda? Swiss? Colby Jack?”

“Cheddar.” Captain Holt corrected, sitting down calmly.

“It’d be a shame if anything were to happen to them.”

“If you think that threatening me or my family will frighten me, you are gravely mistaken, Mr. Crowder.” He rearranged the crime scene photos in front of him, refusing to seem thrown off by his knowledge of his personal life.

“Who was Doug Judy to you?” He started in where Boyle and Diaz left off.

“Just a cellmate.” Crowder leaned back in his chair, picking at the skin around his fingernails.

“Just a cellmate?” He repeated, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully as he looked at the pictures again, Crowder’s silence filling every inch of the room. “He didn’t provide contact with Asimov to help facilitate your escape? Give you resources to get out of the country?” He paused, showing him a photo of Asimov. “We know that he visited both of you in prison.”

“Well, if you already know so much, Captain, why are you asking me? If I wanted to get out of the country, I’d already be eating crepes in Paris by now.” Crowder stopped fidgeting with his nails and looked up at him.

“Then what is all this for, Crowder? Why waste our time?” Killing Judy once he’d served his purpose made perfect sense on paper, it fit Crowder’s profile to a T, but something just wasn’t adding up. He was better than that, smarter than that, more patient than that. Something was off.

“Captain Holt, I’m serving five consecutive life sentences, what difference is one more dead body gonna make?” His hazel eyes burned into his as he closed the space between them, Givens’ cologne now a noticeable scent. “It makes no nevermind to me.”

“Why did you kill him, then?”

“Why did I kill anyone? They got in the way.” He avoided answering the question directly, eye contact still heavy.

“And Doug Judy got in your way because…”

“Because he’s a loud mouthed negro who slowed me down, is that what you want to hear, Raymond?” That jovial mask he wore melted away as he tilted his head to the side.

Holt nodded, remembering the look Peralta gave him in the other room when explaining that mark on his forehead. Crowder’s file said that he had distanced himself from the white supremacists in prison, focusing on religion and philosophy instead, but he wondered how much of that was a ruse. How much of it had all been leading up to this very moment?

“I’ve been called far worse than that. I’ve also been called a word I’m sure you’ve heard whenever Marshal Givens paid you a visit.”

“He told you about us, huh?” Crowder paused and looked completely through Captain Holt, projecting his voice into the next room. “You finally let it out, huh, Raylan? I knew it would only be a matter of time. Of course, I was hoping I wasn’t going to have to wait until I was in custody to hear it!” His smile widened, the chains around his wrists jingling as he lifted his hands.

“You would do anything for him, wouldn’t you?” Holt leaned forward, figuring he had nothing else to lose by pursuing this angle. “Anything to get him to notice you the way you noticed him. I mean, who could blame you? I’m a married man, but I even did a double take when he walked into the precinct.”

Crowder’s face changed as he sat up straight, eyes squinting to figure out what Holt was getting at.

“That mysterious gaze, those coy lips, the effortless confidence?” Holt smiled and closed his eyes, shaking his head before giggling like a schoolgirl.

Peralta walked into the other room as Gutterson finished throwing away his trash, looking over at Holt through the pane of glass. “Oh no, what’s he doing?”

“Let him talk.” Gutterson defended, looking like he was watching his favorite team play the Super Bowl.

“How long has he been in there?” Peralta asked, standing next to him. He knew that if Holt had already resorted to laughing, it wasn't going well.

“Not long enough.”

“He used to visit you in prison, did he not?” Captain Holt continued his line of questioning. “Every time you were locked up, the record shows that it was almost weekly you two had hour-long visitations, but now…” he trailed off, sifting through the papers in his file.

“Now what, old man?” Crowder swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat as he leered across the table at his captor.

“It’s been years since Marshal Givens has come to see you, or even given you a call. No letters, no contact, nothing; even before you were transferred out of Kentucky.” He took a breath, watching the veins in Crowder’s neck bulge as he got closer to the truth. “That eats you up inside more than anything else, doesn’t it?”

Crowder remained silent, biting his bottom lip as if that was enough to contain the words he wanted to hurl at him.

“He has a whole life without you now. He moved down to Florida to be with his wife and daughter, but you and I both know that was never going to work out. The question that runs through your mind every night now is ‘Why hasn't he come back? Not even once?’ Has he found another man down in Miami? Someone who can make him feel better than you ever could? I’m sure they’re just lining up around the block to get a taste of that tall, dark, handsome cowboy.”

“That’s enough!” Crowder shouted, pounding both fists onto the table. His eyes gleamed a bloody red as they dampened with tears, nearly burning a hole in Holt’s head.

Got him, Holt thought.

“Escaping and killing Judy was the only way to get him to drop everything and fly across the country to see you one last time without bars between you, wasn’t it?”

A silent static filled the room, Crowder’s indignant gaze scanning his chained hands before looking through the two-sided mirror he believed Givens to be standing on the other side of. He blinked a few times, the motion causing a single tear to fall down onto his cheek. “If I say yes, can you guarantee he’ll be the one transporting me back to prison?” He muttered through gritted teeth. “Can you at least give me that?”

“You have my word.” Holt nodded, holding his breath.

Crowder chewed on his lip, taking his time to weigh his options in his head before finally deciding to speak. “I killed him. I used Doug Judy to get out of prison and then I shot him in the head.”

“Oh, damn,” Peralta whispered in the other room.

#Justified #brooklyn 99 #captain raymond holt #boyd crowder #tim gutterson #jake peralta #justified fanfiction #brooklyn nine nine fanfiction

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tabbyrp · 4 years ago

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@goodlawman

Cont from here [x]

Investigating a homicide didn’t fall under the marshal jurisdiction but protection did. When news of the second murder of a bartender made it into the paper and a pattern emerged instead of a possible singular issue between the first victim and the one committing the murder, Raylan started to hover in the background of Tabby’s workplace, finding a booth or table to work at to stay out of the way but still keep an eye on her. Not only was she his CI but in the time they’d known each other, a bond had formed and like hell anyone would bring harm to her.

When the third murder occurred and the state police were still at a loss, Raylan insisted on seeing Tabby home every night she worked and wouldn’t hear otherwise. It was how he wound up putting chairs on top of tables that night after closing while Tabby finished up some tasks in the back. Momentarily distracted by a text from Beth, he wasn’t aware of another presence nearby until something forcefully twisted the outer doorknob and the mechanism fell to pieces. Raylan slid his gun from the holster, taking aim at the doorway about where the heart of a man of average height would be. Quicker to adjust that way.

The light night breeze brought the scent in before the arrivals appeared, most normal to his heightened sense of smell except the hard to describe scent underneath it all. While he couldn’t put it into words as well as he might other things, he still knew it immediately - death. A particular scent for a particular creature that woke with the sun’s setting, one that he shared enough commonality with and yet the unique circumstances of his resurrection made for some differences from. Raylan prayed Tabby stayed in the back a few more minutes while he dealt with the situation.

Four of them in all but only one familiar face. Raylan’s lip curled up in disgust as the other vampire threw open his arms with a laugh. “Well as I live and breathe, if it ain’t my old friend Sheriff Bullock. Guess that shot I got off wasn’t so lucky after all, huh?”

Lucky enough. If it hadn’t been for Beth - Rebecca - finding him in that alley and the choice of paths given to him in the afterlife, well, that may have been a different story. One in which he wasn’t standing there on this night between the door to Tabby and his murderer.

George tilted his head towards the door, the smile growing. “How ‘bout you join us for dinner and we all catch up?”

The door into the bar’s kitchen smashed open hard enough that later he was surprised it stayed on its hinges, the two tumbling across the floor until they smashed into the stainless steel counter, Raylan ending up on top. George snarled up at him, flashing fangs, and Raylan drew back his fist, promptly nailing the vampire hard enough across the face to leave a horseshoe imprint on his face.

He caught Tabby out of his peripheral vision just before he landed another hard jab, taking advantage of a stunned George to get up from the floor and grab the bartender’s arm, pushing her ahead of him towards the door that would lead out the back. “Go! I’m right behind.”

For perhaps the first time in their friendship, Tabby obeyed Raylan instantly. She did not argue, like she had when the marshal first commenced his nightly vigil. She did not bombard him with questions, even if a simple ‘what the hell is going on’ may have been justified considering the guy Raylan had body slammed possessed crazily sharp incisors and a remarkably high pain tolerance. Instead, she ran.

Long used to getting outside with hands full of weighty trash bags, Tabby slammed into the metal touch bar and the exit door swung open in turn. There was never enough light in the small car park to the rear, the need for a stepladder to replace broken bulbs enough of a reason for it to be relegated to the bottom of the task list. She was aiming for her car, a beaten old truck redeemed by a cherry-red paint job, when the painful awareness that her keys were in her backpack, which was sat safely in her employee locker.

Tabby faltered, a half-turn to her head as she thought to ask Raylan if they were taking his car. Maybe they should aim for the street. Or the fence to the rear. It had been a sizable number of years since she had been forced to scale a chain-link fence, and even Mr Long Legs behind her would need to climb rather than jump it, but there was a good range of alleyways to hide within on the other side.

In the pair of split seconds she debated, a loud metallic clang caused Tabby to startle. Then a figure rose from the bed of her truck, the noise suggesting that it… she… had somehow launched straight into it from the shadows. Running would only bring Tabby closer and she skidded to a halt. Stocky and weathered, with hair that dropped in waves to her shoulders, the woman curled up a lip, revealing even in the darkness another glistening fang.

“Take another step and I’ll break her legs.” Empty eyes stared part Tabby to aim at Raylan, each word carried a feral hiss and the cold certainty that not only did this lady mean it, but she had the capability to make good on the threat. Something what would have been ludicrous thirty seconds earlier, if Tabby had not witnessed Raylan leave an imprint of his ring in someone’s face. “I hate it when the heart is running like a jackrabbit. Makes the blood bitter.”

“Fuck you, psycho.” Tabby’s answer came before she could even question the wisdom of provoking an apparent serial killer. The mere existence of one within spitting distance was enough to turn her soul to ice. One of her deepest-set fears brought to life. But she hated being terrified, let alone confused about what was going on, and wilful defiance felt a better option than meek compliance. Plus, it did not matter the track records this woman and her pals inside had against bartenders. They hadn’t come up against Raylan Givens before and Tabby would always bet on him.

#goodlawman #verse: blue moon of kentucky (vampire au)#honorable mention #brooklynislandgirl

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 years ago

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@goodlawman In Bits and Pieces || Accepting

III. ~Father~

The glass crashes to the floor, sloshing apple juice everywhere.

She flinches before anything else can happen. Eyes too big for her face grow bigger still. Enlarged by fear and guilt and apology that only manage to crowd her tongue but not make themselves appear beyond her sharp, crooked little teeth.

“You clumsy little brat!” The Admiral’s face is suddenly barely an inch away from her own. She can see the veins distending around his eyes, his neck. His face turning red and his eyes burning and though there is terror like nothing else she’s known she can’t bring herself to look away.

“How stupid do you have to be, Elizabeth? How many times must I teach you how to pour a glass. You put it on the table! You unscrew the cap! You pour it in the glass ~CAREFULLY~ and you-” “Dad, please, it was an accid-” An about-face so sharp it cut everything into ribbons of silence. His gaze narrows on Andy, who at twelve is already tall but spindly, not-small-any-more fists at his sides, chin up. Staring down the much larger, much older man.

“Did I ask for your opinion, boy? Did I give you permission to speak? I do not believe I did. Drop and give me fifty.” Grudging animosity quivers through Andy and the way he slowly sinks to the floor. He stares straight ahead as he assumes the position. Knuckles on the linoleum. Shoulders tense. Anger swimming in his eyes, darker green than her own. Down and up. Down and Up. “Four.” Down and up. “Five.” The Admiral for just the briefest moment looks pleased with the situation, the hint of a tight lipped smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. A smile that will come to live on in both of his children when they get older. It doesn’t stay that way for long. Before she knows it his hand curls around the back of her neck in a grip like battle ship steel. In hindsight she never can say if he kneels down to her insignificant height or if he hauls her up off the floor to his lofty one. All she knows is they are once again eye to eye and his glow like embers.

“Clean this mess up before restricting yourself to quarters. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes, sir.”

~*~

“Daddy! I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t nothin’ but a thing, Willa.” But he’s not looking at his daughter. No, that steady gaze of Raylan’s fell directly on her the split second she flinched as the glass shattered on the hardwood floor. Normally stony with a stoicism she can only attribute to his upbringing and long years of law enforcement soften. Gleam with an understanding that cannot be spoken aloud even if either one could find the words for it. After all, a father casts a long shadow, and sometimes you learn to live in the dark without becoming it. “Why’on’t you go out into the back yard and play, while me an’ Miss Beth here clean this up and fix your lunch.” Upset melts right off her face and she smiles at the woman who is neither her step-mother nor a stranger. A part of Raylan’s life since he moved to Miami to be closer to his kin and letting her come along because that is just how they are. Love without definition, sharing rather than demanding.

“Okay.” She is an agreeable child. She slips through the sliding glass door and out past the lanai. Without looking, Beth know she’s going to end up on the swing, right near Beth’s garden.

Raylan shifts but it’s not for the paper towels or a broom. He stops at her side, they are facing opposite directions, and his hand ~warm and steady~ comes down onto her shoulder. She practically vibrates under it from how hard her heart is beating.

“...S’pose there’s no use sayin’ anythin’ about cryin’ and spilt juice, is there?” His tone is just as soft as his touch. She doesn’t answer. He gives her shoulder a squeeze and brushes his lips against her hair. “DC’s a long way from Miami.” That’s true enough, but is it far enough? She glances at him sideways.

“Ya one good man, Raylan Givens.” He smiles. Second time in ten years she’s ever said his proper name right. “Mop or Dino-nuggets?” “Don’ wan poison her, so...mop.” “Was hopin’ you’d say that.” He’s a good man, yes. But he’s a better father.

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writingblock101 · 6 years ago

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Stick Up (Frank Castle)

Request for @raylan-c: can you do 53. "I will always protect you" and 38. "listen to me, okay? we're getting out of here, together" with frank castle (platonic or romantic i dont mind) either in the same fic or separate ones whichever is easier. i loooved Safe btw ❤❤ you're sooo good at writing😍

Guess who’s back?? Hello my loves, I have missed you. Also @raylan-c you are so sweet!! Thank for the prompt and the kind words that got me crying in the club right now. I imagined this taking place during the beginning part of The Punisher so Frank goes by his fake name Pete. Without further ado!

Word Count: 1,700 (lol got a little carried away)

Warnings: Cursing, some gore, robbery, guns

The waitress job at a dinner was a pretty shitty gig, but it paid bills and college wasn’t cheap. Most of the time, you dealt with elderly people bitching about your generation or telling you random yet endearing stories. Other times, you met truck drivers passing through town. On occasion, you got a group of hungover students looking to order the greasiest thing on the menu. Your life was nothing glamorous or exciting, but like you said, it paid the bills.

The only remotely exciting thing about your week was visits from Pete.

Pete was an... interesting man. He came in once a week at various hours and ordered the same thing. Despite the varying time for his visits, Pete always came in when you were on shift. He was usually toting a large bag, sported multiple bruises, and wore a hat low on his face. His beard was grown out, his voice was gruff, and his hands were scared, but he was very friendly and always polite.

Your knowledge about Pete was limited. He worked in construction and used to be in the military. He always asked how classes were going and left disproportionately large tips. The first time, you thought the hundred-dollar bill paying for a nine-dollar check was a mistake, but Pete made it clear that it was intentional. While you knew he worked in construction, you were doubtful about construction paying Pete well enough to drop one hundred dollars every week at a dinner for a cup of coffee and a number seven special.

As you set a plate of scrambled eggs down in front of an elderly man, the door chimed. Pete strolled into the dinner and sat in the far back booth of your section. He looked over the menu provided on the table as if he were actually going to order anything different.

Once checking on your other tables, you grabbed a fresh pot of coffee and walked over to Pete.

“Good morning, Pete,” You smiled as you poured him a cup.

“Morning, Y/N,” He set the menu down and looked up at you, sporting a black eye this morning.

“You getting into fights again?” You teased, gesturing to your eye.

Pete chuckled then shrugged.

“Oh, you know me, always getting into trouble,” He paused to take a sip of his coffee then grinned up at you. “Besides, you should see the other guy.”

You rolled your eyes playfully.

“I’m sure.”

“You staying out of trouble?” He asked.

“Of course,” You promised.

“How are classes going?”

“They’re kicking my ass,” You admitted with a tired sigh.

“I’m sure you’re kicking their ass right back,” Pete took another sip of his drink.

“Trying to! I’ve got four papers due this week and no time to work on them.”

“Don’t overwork yourself, kid. Every time I come in here, you’re always working. You can’t burn the candle at both ends.”

“Guess you just can’t get rid of me,” You joked.

“Wouldn’t ever want to,” Pete lifted his mug with a grin. “You make the best coffee.”

“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume.”

“How did that test go last week?” Pete asked.

Last week, Pete came into the dinner late one night while you were studying for a media law test. He was on the only customer, so he sat at the bar and quizzed you.

“I got an A!” You responded proudly.

“Atta way!” Pete grinned.

The door chimed again as another group of customers walked in.

“I’ll go put your order in,” You promised. “Number seven special?” You checked.

“Yes, please” Pete nodded.

You smiled one last time at him then went to take drink orders for your new table.

“Good morning, and welcome to Bo’s Dinner,” You greeted the group of three. “My name is Y/N and I’ll be taking care of you this morning. Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

If you had to guess, the group of guys, probably in their twenties, were high on something. All of them had their hoods up, they were twitchy and fidgeting, and constantly looking over their shoulders. It was a little weird, but you’ve seen much weirder.

“Um...” One of them stared straight down at the menu. “Water,” He told the table.

“Coke,” Another muttered to their hands.

The last one with bright blue eyes actually looked up at you.

“A coffee would be great, please,” He requested politely.

“I’ll get those right out,” You walked toward the kitchen and began pouring drinks.

You give them their drinks then take their orders. A few minutes later, you delivered Pete’s food then brought the three stoners their food.

“How does everything look?” You asked.

“Looks great,” The blue-eyed boy reassured you.

“Alright, I’ll be back to check on you in a little while,” You promised then went to check on your other customers.

“How’s special?” You asked Pete, wandering back to his table.

“As delicious as always,” Pete grinned. “Say uh, is that boy in your econ class... Ah, what’s the little shit’s name again?”

You groaned.

“Ugh, you mean JoHo?”

Pete nodded.

“Yeah, that little shit. He still bothering you for a date?”

You shrugged.

“He’s trying to guilt me into a date. Sometimes he’s nice and backs off, other times, not so much.”

Pete grumbled at your response. One night, you came into work fired up over this annoying ass dude in your econ class. He managed to bait you into a date, which ended up being the worst date of your life. Pete lent an ear and offered for you to bring him into the dinner, so Pete could “have a chat”.

“My offer still stands,” Pete took a sip of his coffee. “Just let me have five minutes with him, he won’t bother you after that.”

You laughed, brushing Pete off.

“I only have a few weeks of the semester left. I can handle him. Besides, he doesn’t really need to be scared for life by you.”

“He’ll learn to stop trying to guilt pretty people into dates.”

You blushed at the compliment.

“Let me go grab your check.”

You rang up Pete’s check and dropped it off at his table then went back to your table of stoners, gathering up their plates.

“Will that be everything?” You asked, picking up their plates.

“Just the check please,” The blue-eyed boy requested.

You brought their check.

“Actually, can we get one more thing?” The boy asked then pointed a gun at you and cocked back the hammer. “Empty the register for us.”

You froze, your eyes widening and your heart pounding in your chest. The other two boys produced guns from their hoodies. One fired a shot at the ceiling, sending the dinner into panicked screams. The blue-eye blue climbed up on the table and fired another shot while one of the other boys pointed his gun at you. You shakily raised your hands in the air, feeling tears build in your eyes.

“Stay calm. We’re not here to hurt anybody,” The boy announced. “We just want a few things then we’ll be on our way.”

One of the other boys went to the kitchen while the other grabbed your arm and yanked you toward the register.

“Open it,” He demanded in a gruff voice, pointing the gun directly at your head.

You took a shuttering breath, your hands shaking as you opened the register. Once opened, the boy pointing the gun at you shoved you aside and stuffed the money from the register into his kangaroo pouch. When the register was empty, he shoved you out from behind the bar, back with the few customers in the dinner. The blue eye boy jumped down from the table in front of you. He smirked at your terrified face then heard the cock of a gun behind him.

He whipped around and yanked you in front of him, using you as a human shield with his gun against your head. Pete stared down the boy, holding a gun with steady hands.

“Let them go,” Pete growled.

“Looks like we got a hero!” The boy called sarcastically. “Sit back down, wannabe. You’re gonna get someone killed.”

He pressed the gun harder into your head. You whimpered at the pressure. Pete’s eyes flicked to yours for a moment.

“Let them go,” Pete demanded again.

“Not gonna happen, so why don’t you,” The boy gestured to him with the gun. “Sit your happy ass back down before we spray,” He glanced at your name tag. “Y/N’s brains all over this shitty dinner.”

Pete quirked an eyebrow then shot the gunman holding you. You screamed at his brain exploded then Pete tackled you before the other gunman, still behind the bar shot you. He used his body as a human shield over you until the firing stopped. While the gunman reloaded, Pete kicked over a table and pulled you behind it. Your heart was pounding, tears streaming down your face as you gasped for breath. Pete grabbed your shoulders.

“Y/N, look at me. Breath. You’re okay. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” He used his thumbs to wipe your face. “Listen to me, okay? We're getting out of here, together.”

You nodded, still scared out of your mind, but felt marginally better, knowing Pete was protecting you. He grabbed his gun again and poked his head over the table, waiting for the gunman to pop up. Right as he did, Pete took one shot. Two down, one left.

Pete stood up, but you grabbed his jacket.

“Where are you going?!” You asked nervously, your fingers curling into his jacket.

“I’ll be right back,” He promised. “Don’t worry.”

Pete hopped over the knocked down table then went into the kitchen where the last gunmen went. You curled your knees to your chest, your hands over your head. From the kitchen you heard another gunshot then someone walked back out. Your mind assumed the worse. Pete got shot. Oh my gosh, Pete was dead and now they are coming to kill you because they know it’s your fault. Pete was dead, Pete was dead, Pete was dead, Petewasdead--

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see Pete standing over you. Before you registered what you were doing, you leaped up and jumped on Pete, wrapping your arms around him. He tensed for a moment, then hugged you back.

“Is it over?” You asked.

“It’s over,” He promised, squeezing you tight. “I will always protect you.”

The ending felt a little rushed but I hope you enjoyed!

I have another request in my inbox and one request I started writing and seemed to have forgotten about. Once I answer the other request, I'll finish the Spiderman one I never finished.

Let me know what you think!

#did i write in a boy's name who i got a really shitty date from #pft #no #i would never #frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #kind of???#the punisher x reader #pete #i can't remember his fake last name #marvel imagines #marvel request #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher fanfiction #writing

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