#Raylan Givens Fanfiction

[galactic-academia]

Hungry Hearts

Everybody needs a place to rest Everybody wants to have a home Don't make no difference what nobody says Ain't nobody like to be alone Everybody's got a hungry heart Bruce Springsteen - Hungry Heart

Rating: E, minors DNI

Category: F/M

Fandom: Justified

Relationship: Raylan Givens x F!Reader

Tags for this part: Language, fluff, pining, age gap (10 years), making out, tons of self-doubt and miscommunication, idiots in love, fear of abandonment, also tons of overthinking, SMUT, fingering (F!receiving), oral sex (F!receiving), dirty talk, Reader and Raylan are both whipped, Reader has hair (no length description), Reader wear a nightgown and mascara, Tim Gutterson isn’t paid enough for this shit.

Words : 5K

Summary: Whatever’s going on between Raylan and you is working, but it’s not to everyone’s taste. And your life is still at stake. Will you be able to overcome your own demons or will you make a tragedy out of your love story? If only you were the only one making this decision…

Notes : This is a continuation to “Through the Door”; if you haven’t read it, know that Raylan refers to Reader as “Little One” or “Lil’” for there are 10 years between them (but that doesn’t exclude other pet names). Not canon compliant: Raylan left Kentucky later than in the show and his favorite ice cream flavor is now Ben & Jerry’s Cookies & Cream Cheesecake Core. I know nothing about how the Marshal’s Office functions and whatever I read on the Internet didn’t help me so much, it’s pretty inaccurate, let’s happily suspend your disbelief. 

I've been working on this for two years, time for me to share <3

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Through the Door | Part I | Part II | Part III

“Is it still your favorite?”

A few steps ahead of you, his handsome face shielded from the harsh lights of the store by the stetson ever sitting on his head, Raylan turns around and comes back to you.

“What?” Smiling, you hold an ice cream tub to his face. “Ben & Jerry’s Cookies & Cream Cheesecake Core?” He reads, before looking at you, half smiling, half dumbfounded. “You remember that?”

You smirk, not-so-secretly proud of yourself as you put the treat in your tote bag. “I remember a lot of things, Givens.”

“Yeah, so do I, and if I recall correctly, you don’t like Cheesecake Core at all.”

Your heart misses a beat. It happens a lot, lately. Everytime you find yourself doing something so… domestic with Raylan, it sends a giddy feeling fizzling into your stomach, and he always proves to be attentive; ever has been. And those tiny marks of intimacy? Yeah, they make your heart capsize like you’re sixteen again.

“Nope.”

Still in your space, he pointedly looks at your bag. “Why are you puttin’ it in there, then?”, he asks with a wince. The tub has started to sweat in the heat of the afternoon and it’s going to stain your bag. He can hear you fuss about it already. it’s far too late in September to be this hot, and your bag is far too pretty to be used as a grocery bag.

“‘S not for me,” you sing-song. You’re grinning so big and so often that, sometimes, your cheeks hurt.

“Who’s it for, then?” He’s grinning too, looking at you down his nose and tugging you by your waist out of the line of prying eyes and ears.

That cashier, he’s a junkie. It’s written all over his face. This is the last time you go shopping there. He will have to tell the team about it. Too dangerous.

“For my favorite cowboy,” you laugh, ‘I want him to have something nice to nibble on when he gets peckish. Where are we going?”, you finally wonder.

“Right… here.” You stand, entangled with Raylan, in the middle of an empty aisle you don’t need anything from.

“And you wanted to get there specifically because?”

“Because of this security camera - just over there.” He points the dead appliance to you. “It’s out.”

“And?” You ask.

He’s still smiling - more of a smirk than a grin now - both hands crossed and resting on your lower back, applying gentle pressure to keep you near, always nearer.

“And nobody can see us”, Raylan mumbled, “So I can do this without getting my ass kicked by Art.” He isn’t lying. Not entirely. While Raylan has no problem with kissing you whenever, wherever, he doesn’t need to give his chief another reason to regret letting him stay around you. You don’t need to know about the cashier. He looks anxious as shit. Probably craving his fix. Tapping his fingers on the counter and constantly switching between the camera's monitor and the clock sitting above the door. He may be waiting for someone. His dealer? Maybe. Or someone up the ladder, seeing the state he’s putting himself in. Raylan needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. He still takes the time to kiss the living lights out of you in the middle of the grocery store.

And what won’t you let that man do to you? You even chase his lips when he comes up for air. When it comes to Raylan, too much is never enough; and he doesn’t need to be told as much.

“What a shame that would be, that ass is too cute to be kicked by anyone”, you claim with sparkling eyes.

He snorts more than he laughs, but it’s still a win; you will do anything for that blinding smile to never go away. “Is that so? I don’t deprive myself of remindin’ you as much next time you give me shit.”

He says that, acts like you’re mean to him, but between the two of you, things are… peculiar. When it’s just Raylan and you, it’s like you’re fused to each other; all other each other. Like there isn’t anyone else in the world. He eagerly makes out with you, for hours, and you feel him hard as steel underneath you, and there’s nothing you want more than for him to lay you down and take what he so overtly wants. But he won’t. Raylan hasn’t been adventurous with you, at all.

It’s getting disturbing.

You’ve reasoned with yourself that he needs to be ready to fight if - somehow - your cover is busted and someone tries to assault you. And maybe there is a level of fraternization that would get him in real trouble if his chief came to know about it? You have no idea. Sure, you could simply ask him, but… No. That would just be awkward. He must have a good reason obvious enough for him to not need to talk about it. Anyway, you’re almost sure Marshals aren’t supposed to… date? No, you’re not dating, unless grocery shopping together during office hours counts as dating. ‘Fuck’ is not the right word either, since there hasn’t been any fucking of any kind yet, but ‘making out’ just seems ridiculous, when you think about it. And ‘fraternizing’ is sad. Nevertheless, what’s going on between Raylan and yourself shouldn’t happen, but it does; and you’re too afraid to lose it - to lose him again - to say anything about it.

So you don’t say anything while he loads your groceries in the trunk of his car. You don’t say anything when he does happily munch on his Cheesecake Core on your back porch later that evening. And you certainly don’t say anything when, after pretending to watch the movie you choose for about twenty minutes, he hauls you on his lap to devour your mouth.

Things will sort themselves out, won’t they? There’s nothing to overthink, no need to see oddities where there isn’t any. Everything is ok and one thing at a time; and, who knows, maybe Raylan is waiting for you to make a move?

When you finally fall asleep that night, entangled with him in the soft blankets you keep thrown over the back of your couch for nights like this, you’re smiling to yourself with the beginning of a plan in mind. Maybe it’s time to show Raylan Givens that you’re ready to throw at least as much as he does in it. Whatever ‘it’ may be.

You’re, unfortunately, starting to get well acquainted with the Marshals’ Office time table. For three to four days in a row, depending on the workload back at the office, you spend your day with either Tim Gutterson or Raylan, and the night with the other. After a maximum of four nights in a row, Marshal Rachel Brooks comes to take the night shift, so the two others can rest before swifting shift for another couple of days.

You love it when Raylan works the night shift, even if it means you spend all of them on the couch and your back is screaming at you. You know it’s also his favorite time to be on duty for several reasons, including that he doesn’t like Gutterson spending time with you while you’re in your night attire. He never truly told you so, but his prickly attitude towards his coworker and possessive one towards you the few times he arrived at 8 to find you in your gown, having breakfast with Tim, was enough. And unbearably hot. And it gave you an idea.

You don’t live in a movie, so you don’t sleep every night in lingerie, far from it. Therefore, it would be an understatement to say Marshal Gutterson is quite baffled when you enter the kitchen, five minutes before 8 in the morning, wearing a gown that suggests everything it doesn’t show. You immediately go for the pantry, bringing the coffee machine to life on your way.

“Hello Tim, how are you?”

“Hell-o? Uh… Is there something I missed?”

It doesn’t sit right with you to throw Gutterson under the bus like this to get what you want. The bag of pastries you toss into his hands doesn’t help to alleviate the guilt as much as you wish it would.

“Just needed to set the mood.”

The frown between the Marshal’s eyebrows deepens.

“No shit…”

You hear the key turning in the lock and the door opening, then the sound of boots clattering softly on the wooden floor; you know Gutterson hears it too, for he’s straight as a rod with his eyes screwed shut already. 

And here he is, barely awake and pissed off already, Raylan Givens in all his glory.

“Eh. Good morning, Lil’. Marshal, one word?”

Opening one eye to glare at you, Tim growls something suspiciously sounding like “Pastries don’t cut it off”, before following his coworker into the living room.

You only have time enough to gulp down your coffee and rush to your bedroom before you hear the front door slamming shut and Gutterson muttering to himself while he crosses your alley to his car; He’s right, though, pastries don’t cut it off, you’ll have to find something nice to make it up to him.

“Sugar? Where are you?”

“Upstairs!”

Raylan calling for you erases all culpability from your mind.

He enters the room, his hat low on his eyes, softly grumbling: “What the Hell, Woman? Are you tryin’ to send me to an early grave?”

So, so dramatic…

You start rummaging into your dresser to busy yourself, to pretend to have a semblance of naturalness in your behavior; “Me? Why? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You feel him coming nearer and nearer more than you hear him, and the furnace only a breath away from your bare back just gives you the confirmation you needed.

“Really, sweetheart?” And you don’t let the tender pet name fool you, because the hands on your hips are definitely leaving bruises behind them, you can feel it already. “You, who’re, somehow, always cold at night, don’t understand why I’m surprised to see you almost naked, chilling with Marshal fucking Gutterson?”

Maybe you bit more than you can chew, this time. His breath is tickling your nape, and you’re almost sure the butterfly-light caresses you can feel at the base of your hair are from his nose. You can hear the fire in his tone, but also the morbid playfulness. It makes your skin crawl and your pussy throb.

“To be entirely honest, Marshal, you don’t seem so surprised to me.” You don’t know who’s in charge of your being, but it’s certainly not your brain anymore.

“No?”

“No.”

“That’s right, Little One, I ain’t surprised.” Raylan softly nuzzles his way from the nape of your neck up to your  ear, which he gently starts nipping at, while his large, warm hands are lovingly petting your belly and your vertebrae and what the fuck is happening right now? His voice is reduced to a breath in your ear. “I’m livid.”

You gasp. His hands haven’t been near anywhere you truly want them and he hasn’t said anything even a little bit thrilling, but you’re positively dripping and your lack of panties isn’t helping. Ok, maybe you know what part of your body is in charge, now.

“Let me make it up to you, then.” He lets you turn in his arms and, getting on your tiptoes, you kiss him. But he doesn’t kiss you back. you settle back on your heels, looking at him like a hurt doe, your heart in your throat already.

For a fraction of second, you’re certain you fucked everything up. But then, Raylan lets out a growling breath in the shape of a “Oh, baby…” and he’s on you.

He manhandles you so efficiently that you don’t know what’s happening until you’re bouncing on your own bed, Raylan’s left hand under your head to make sure you don’t get hurt. You flick the hat off his head as your hands come to run in his hair;  you’re already panting when he leaves your lips to trail little half-kisses half-nips down your throat and your exposed chest.

“That’s what you wanted?”, he rumbles against your skin, “That’s why you gave good ol’ Tim an eyeful? Just wanted some attention, uh?”

Instead of answering, you start squirming under your Marshal and push on the back of his head to get his lips back on yours. Raylan humors you by devouring your mouth to the point of making your head spin. You understand the real goal of the plan when it’s too late already, and both your wrists are secure above your head in one of his big, strong hands. And you know he knows that you know, because he breaks that toe-curling kiss, tutting right into your mouth.

“Now, baby, do you really think you deserve to get what you want? You really think turning on the Marshals who must keep an eye on you is a game, don’t ya? Answer me…”

“Ray…” God, it shouldn’t be thrilling like this. You’re almost sure he’s truly a little pissed and that he wants to make a point, to a certain extent. But being at his mercy like this, it’s really scratching an itch you didn’t even know was there.

“Come on, sweetheart, tell me now.”

He’s smirking down at you, all smug and oozing confidence; he could demand anything from you right now, anything, there’s nothing you could deny him, nothing you wouldn’t do to please him. You can feel the fingertips of the hand that’s not holding you down delicately brushing the inside of your tight and a fresh wave of wetness leaking slowly to meet them.

“What was all this about?”, he coaxes, “What is it that you want so bad?”

“You.”

It’s nothing but a whisper and you say it like a fucking prayer, a supplication full of adoration, full of desperation for what you’re so ardently desiring. And Raylan looks like it hits him like a rocket; like, somehow, he wasn’t expecting that answer. Gone is the cocky Marshal so self-satisfied to have you wriggling under his form, only remains Raylan, forever surprised that someone could truly feel something so deep for him.

“Little one”, his voice cracks as he closes his eyes and touches his forehead to yours, “When there is something you want, to tell it to d- fuck… You tell me, alright? Whatever it is, you tell me, ok?”

“Ok.”

And you know he’s going to drown himself in a tidal wave of feelings - both good and bad - if you don’t defuse the situation right now. He needs to digest the implications of what you confessed. Maybe you need it too.

“I want you to kiss me.” He obeys. Two minutes ago, you were the one under his command, now the tables have turned. “And I want you to touch me.”

Raylan’s hand, that has been resting on your thigh, resumes its slow ascent to your core. He’s taking his time and no amount of wriggling around will decide him to hurry. You will get exactly what you want, all in good time. But when the very tip of his fingers connects - at last - with your wet lips, the Marshal’s eyes, which were hooded from desire, round with surprise as he sucks a breath in. This is it.

Once more, Raylan closes his eyes and, through his teeth, like the words are hurting him somehow, he chokes “Baby, tell me you weren’t completely naked under that nightgown all this time…”. You gulp, praying for that ballsy initiative to be a lucky one.

“And what if I were?” Your voice is a little squeaky, far from the bold tone you were aiming for.

“What if you did strut around, pussy bare, in the same room as Gutterson? What if its warmth was so near he could almost feel it?” He’s getting mad again, and a little delirious, but so are you.

As he’s busy glaring you down his perfect nose, you manage to sneak your legs from between Raylan’s one to around his hips and draw them into yours, his fingertips breaching your entrance in the move.

“And what if I wore this just to thrill you? What if I stayed in the same room as Tim just the two seconds it takes to launch the coffee maker? What if I took my panties off just before I got down the stairs, hoping for you to get mad enough to do something about it?”

He’s going to eat you alive. If eyes could kill, you would be dead. Just one more push.

“I’m asking you, Raylan, please, do something about it. Or maybe I’ll ask Marshal Gutterson to lend me a hand. ‘Service’ does figure in the Marshals’ motto, right?”

The snarky quality of your little soliloquy gets interrupted by two delightfully long and thick digits pushing and curling into your pussy. Oh yes, finally… You moan, biting on your lips, the fire that has been steadily burning in your abdomen suddenly flaring.

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat”, Raylan spits through his teeth, “What am I gonna do with ya’ uh?”

His fingers keep fucking into you, hitting a spot that makes the pressure into your belly grow and grow. You had wanted this for so long, it’s like all the waiting is now increasing the pleasure you’re experiencing. And maybe it truly does. 

Somehow, you manage to stutter “You - ah! - you like it that way!”

“I do.”

His pupils are so blown up you almost can’t see the warm, deep brown of his irises anymore; but, upon his confession, his furious gaze melts in pure adoration. It hits you square in the chest, and your heart skips a beat, but before you have any time to dwell on that feeling, Raylan’s lips are back on yours and his thumb has found your clit. Your back arches from the mattress, your hips grinding onto his fingers.

“Yeah, I love it when you have an attitude”.

You had lovers before, and the wisest of them did stick their fingers into your pussy too, to get you ready for what was coming next. Truth be told, there wasn’t a lot to get ready for, but point to them for the will. Raylan, this, wasn’t the first one to finger fuck you, but he might be the first to pull an orgasm out of you that way.

“But what I love the most is when you lose that attitude and melt. Oh, baby, I can feel ya clenchin’ around my fingers…”

“Gonna come!”, you squeak, a little mad at yourself for giving into him that easily.

“Yeah? That’s alright babygirl, drench my fingers. Can’t figure how you’re gonna get tighter that you already are, can’t wait to find out…”

The heat in your lower belly finally erupts and you pulse around Raylan’s digits, still prodding that delightful spot inside you. He makes you ride your bliss til’ the very last spasming aftershock, toeing the line of overstimulation.

“Ray...”, you whimper between two wretched gulps of air. You want to say something, something bratty and sexy, something that will throw you back again in the game you two are always playing. Something that will rile him up some more, that might give you the upper hand, but you lay, trembling, in his arms, only able to mewl his name.

With a chuckle, Raylan pulls his fingers out of you, eliciting some more whining on your part. The bastard is cocky, as always, but damn if he didn’t win the right to be!

“Hold on tight, honey, I ain’t done with you”.

Mustering what seems to be a gigantic effort, you slightly lift your head from the comforter only to see your favorite Marshal sliding off the bed to kneel on the floor, right in front of you; his hand smoothly gliding along from your hips to your knees, keeping your legs from closing.

“W-what are you doing?”, you croak, not believing your own eyes.

“Got thirsty over here, with all that talking. Didn’t even have a cup of coffee, it all went into Gutterson’s vacuum bottle, ain’t it?” His hands start caressing your thighs, from outer to inner, so softly that your skin erupts in goosebumps. “Gonna taste you”, he stops to lay tiny, wet kisses on your inner thigh, “Gonna drink you down”, some to your other leg, “Gonna make you feel so good”.

As he picks your legs up to place them on his shoulders - pulling you toward him on the same move - he looks up at you with those big brown eyes of his and you feel it. Something constricts into your chest, breathtaking. Your heart is pounding, your stomach flustering. It’s there. You can taste it. But then he leans forward to press a feather-light kiss to your clit. Your hips buck instantly as you throw your head back on the mattress.

“Jesus...”

That makes Raylan laughs, sending scrumptious vibrations up your pussy, making you gush some more.

“No Jesus here, baby, just ol’, plain Raylan”, the fucker doesn’t even bother to lift his head, just makes fun of you while nosing your curls, “And if you want to call me other than by my name, I’m sure you can do better than that...”

Oh that... That bastard, he- he’s licking a stripe up your folds, a long, sultry one, before coming back to your clit to suck on it.

You’re a writhing mess under him and only his two big hands holding your hips forcefully down stop your body from arching completely from the bed. You also had lovers going down on you. Not a lot, and not often, but you never complained, wondering what the Hell they were trying to do as they awkwardly slurp at your heat, maybe thinking a lick of two would have you begging for mercy. Well, you did beg for mercy, but for them to stop their fuckery.

A high, blissful moan escapes your lips as Raylan lazily drag his mouth downward and pushes his tongue inside your hole to fuck you with it. You’re going to come for the second time in a matter of minutes, you’re going to come from being eaten out; both for the first time. Then you feel it, the mattress is slightly rocking back and forth. The mattress is rocking back and forth because Raylan is unconsciously humping it while he has his tongue buried as deep as possible inside of you. It makes you go feral, you grab a hold on Raylan’s head, tugging at his hair which makes his nose bump your clit. You yelp, thighs clamping around his head as he goes for the kill; pointing his tongue to circle your clit a few times before giving it a firm, sharp suck.

You lose it, without any warning. Your hips buck as wildly as they can into Raylan’s grip as you cry out his name, coming all over his mouth. He’s moaning too, lapping madly at you, not letting you go until little zaps of overstimulation make you... Yeah, beg for mercy.

“C-can’t... Ray! Can’t anymore! So good, so, so good...”

He pulls away, at last, chin glistening with your juices, “Alright, baby, alright”, he says gruffly, “Can’t help myself, you’re so sweet, so good to me.”

He crawls back on the mattress as you pull him toward you by his head, crushing your lips together and tasting yourself on his tongue. You stay like this, making out like crazy, fighting him for dominance with the maddening want to return as good as you were given. Hell, the very thought of Raylan squirming and groaning under your ministrations, of him losing himself into you, losing composure, is enough to make you throb. But just as you start to fumble with his belt, a hand tugging on it while the other is cupping his length over the denim, his own hand comes down to stop you.

“Oh babygirl”, he keeps on kissing you, all tongue and teeth, unable to pull away for more than a couple of words at a time, “There’s nothing I would like more- ah!”, he may have stop the hand tugging at his belt, but not the one fondling him, after all; and you were right; there’s nothing more satisfying than Raylan tripping over his words and clinging to his crumbling composure.

The delicious feeling is short-lived, though, as Raylan - shifting his weight from his forearm to his knees - takes a hold of both your wrists in one of his hands before lifting them above your head.

He’s unbearably sexy like this, dishevelled, pupils blown and eyes half-lidded, flushed from arousal and chin fucking dripping with your come. God helps you.

“Baby”, he pants, “There’s nothing I would like more than to keep rolling around in your bed - and don’t get me started on what I know you were going to do or I’ll cream my pants like a goddamn teenager - but I have to take you to court”.

“What?!”, you whine, “What fucking for?”

He huffs, letting you understand you’re not the only one dying of frustration here, “Preliminary hearing”.

Forty-five minutes later, you’re finally seated in Raylan’s Lincoln and on your way to court. You may have been quicker if your favorite Marshal had kept his hands to himself for more than two minutes at a time; the only reprieve you’ve had have been when he went downstairs to pour you both a cup of coffee. Try to focus on something as mundane as putting on some mascara when Raylan Givens is lovingly nipping at your ear, his hands slipping under your blouse...

Even now, as he drives, he still has his right hand sitting firmly on your thigh. And, can you believe it? A few weeks ago, the two of you hadn’t spoken in fifteen years and now you can’t bear to be apart for more than the few seconds it takes for Raylan to swift gears. Staring at his profile, golden in the morning sun, you can’t help but to ask yourself: how did you get so lucky?

“Do I have dirt on my face or somethin’?”, he asks, pulling you out of your reverie, eyes still on the road.

“Uh? Hm, no, just the usual scratchy beard; why?”

“Can feel you staring”, he mumbles almost absent-mindedly, and then, much more preoccupied, “Ya think my beard is scratchy?”

“Well”, you chuckle, “All beards are, ain’t they?”

You can see the troubles as they’re passing on his face, can see them in the quick side glance he gives you as he negotiates his way into the traffic.

“Didn’t hear any complaints when I had my face buried into that glorious pussy, though...”

Presumptuous, obnoxious, delicious asshole.

“Let’s say I didn’t hear you saying that, yeah? Let’s handle only one penance at a time.”

It makes him laugh, and his features lighten up. Raylan always looks so much younger when he laughs, almost carefree. There is no sight you love more.

“Here we are.”

Lexington’s court resembles the county: old, industrial and poorly kept. You’re almost relieved when the edifice leaves your sight as Raylan makes for the underground parking.

“Thank you for driving me”, you say, as you get up from your seat and shut your door, “Are you escorting me to the courtroom?”

“I sure do”, he replied, quickly shutting his own door and hurrying around the car to join you and snake an arm around your waist, “You’re not leaving the Marshal Services’ sight before we’re sure you ain’t in danger anymore. Brooks in currently checkin’ on the courtroom”.

“Checking on? What is she looking for?”

“Microphones, cameras, explosives...”

“Explosives?!” You know you’re in danger. You know that they’re searching for you, that’s how you ended up in Harlan to begin with, but thinking a whole building could blow up and everyone in with it, just because of you...

“It’s part of the securing procedure, doesn’t mean there’ll be any. Hey... Hey!” Raylan slows down, then stops in his tracks.

He kept you so entertained these past weeks that you almost forgot your life was at risk. It was there, in a corner of your head, but you pushed it aside. Now it’s coming back and the anxiety is threatening to drown you.

“Baby”, he called, softly pushing you against a stone pillar, “Hey, baby, look at me”. Raylan takes hold of your cheeks like you’re the most precious treasure in the world and searches for your eyes. You look into the deep, reassuring brown of his irises. He’s here.

“You’re safe with us, ok? You’re safe with me. Rachel is just applying the procedure, just making sure, yeah? They can’t hurt you, not when one of us is with you and certainly not when I’m holding you in my arms, alright? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You could cry. You’ve never felt safer than in Ray’s arms. And he’s... And now, he... Oh.

“Kiss me.”

It’s desperate, and feral, and probably more than a little horny; it’s a kiss worthy of a soap opera, the ones that leave you a little breathless behind your screen. Truly, it’s a promise.

“I don’t want to go”, you whisper as you finally part.

“I know. I don’t want you to go either, but you have to. Your testimony is the best weapon we have. it’s your duty, as a hero.”

That statement baffles you enough for you to mostly forget your uneasiness; even if just for a moment.

“I thought you were the hero here, Marshal”, you giggle.

Grinning, Raylan bumps his nose against yours and breathes “In this story, baby, I’m merely your side-kick”.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: It’s on one such night, a hot one, when Raylan gets drunk enough to take his clothes off and go swimming. The lake’s not much more than a mud wallow, but he’s bound and determined, even gets his arms caught a little as he struggles to get his undershirt over his head. He catches Boyd looking and says, “What’s the matter, Boyd? Afraid of a little water?” “Of the very little water in that lake, Raylan, yes I am.” It’s a full moon tonight, and Boyd would like to blame his attention to Raylan’s body on that. The moon throws strange light across his skin, like the bruises that dapple his body are nothing more than shadows. Everybody knows what Arlo’s like, when he’s in one of his moods. Tornado weather, Raylan calls it sometimes. When you've got to find someplace safe but there's nowhere safe to find. --- Raylan and Boyd dug coal together when they were younger.

Author: @meriwetherwrites

Submitter: @undercovercannibal

[darkness-follows]

Here we are !!

My Raylan/Boyd fanfiction the first Chapter:

Enjoy!

[emma-m-black]

The Daughter - Chapter Five

Tim Gutterson x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

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

Elenora was placing a box in her bathroom while Tim leaned on the door frame, watching her. “You know, this place ain’t half bad.”

“See, I told you it was worth it.” Whispered Elenora as she set the box down on the counter.

“Oh, it was worth it.” Said Tim with a sly smirk. “Just make sure you leave that top drawer open for me. Also, I’ll be wanting the side of the bed with the view of the door, and I figure I should warn you I like to drink my juice straight from the carton.”

“Shh, now. There are others around, and I would really rather not have my second dad hear you. I would like once this is all said and done for you to leave in one piece, so you can circle the block and come back up.” Elenora said as she walked past Tim and into the main area of the apartment, just as footsteps could be heard coming through the front door.

“Guess who Art found wandering around on the street?” Announced Rachel as she entered the room carrying a box.

“New guy? Bout time he showed up.” Asked Tim as he walked across the room to take the box from Rachel.

Rachel confirmed his suspicions with a nod and a look of displeasure. “He’s that gun happy cowboy from Florida we heard about.”

Tim let out a laugh. “No shit? He must have really pissed off Florida if they sent him out here.”

“Wait? Cowboy from Florida?” Elenora questioned as her eyes went wide. “Cowboy hat? Lean? Looks like an asshole?”

“Yeah?” Began Rachel in response, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Elenora. “How’d you know?”

“Guys, I want you to meet the new guy,” Came Art’s voice as he walked into the room. “Old buddy of mine from Glynco. One of the fastest draws in the Marshal’s service.”

As Art said this, a man fitting the description Elenora had just given entered the room. His eyes landing straight on Elenora and a smile raised on his lips. “Hello, sunshine.” The man greeted as he scanned her over.

“Daddy?” Elenora questioned. Her hands shook, and she felt the sweat forming. Her mind was racing, and she could not seem to form a proper thought.

“There it is.” Said Tim under his breath, and Elenora could only think back to the previous night’s conversation about Tim waiting for the ball to drop on their relationship. Because this was a big fucking ball. She noticed her father seemed to eye Tim and look him over as though he was trying to piece together a puzzle.

Elenora stepped forward as she looked her father over. “What are you doing here?”

“I was transferred. Told Art to keep it a surprise. So, surprise.” Raylan approached Elenora and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Elenora followed suit, but it was more of an automatic response than anything out of love.

“You’re Elenora’s father?” Asked Rachel, as the father and daughter pulled apart.

“Yup.” Raylan popped his ‘p’ as he replied and shoved a hand out towards Rachel. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens, pleasure to meet you.”

Rachel took his offered hand and gave it a shake with a smile on her face. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Rachel Brooks.”

When Raylan released Rachel’s hand, he turned to look at Tim. “That must make you the man that saved my little girl. Deputy U.S. Marshal Tim Gutterson, if I’m not mistaken?” Raylan stuck out his hand and Elenora noticed the way his eyes narrowed. Tim, who was still holding the box he took from Rachel, finally moved to set it down.

“I didn’t do much savin’, mainly I just threw a set of cuffs on the guy,” Said Tim as he took Raylan’s hand in a shake. “I’m sure she has you to thank for the skills I saw that night.”

Raylan had not released Tim’s hand. “I taught my baby girl how to protect herself against any unwanted male advances.”

“Daddy!” Elenora narrowed her eyes at her father and he finally released Tim’s hand. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you I was transferred.”

“You were the one that gave that perp twenty-four hours to leave town.” Tim said with realization. “Then shot him dead at the table, when he didn’t comply. I’m guessing it wasn’t a transfer so much as Art was the only one that would take you in?” Tim’s voice held a slight harshness to it, and Elenora could tell that Tim was making sure her father knew he was not the type to back down.

“Apparently, this is my punishment for takin’ out the bad guy.”

“Or mine.” Voiced Art as he walked over and placed a hand on Raylan’s shoulder. “Rachel and Tim will be your best friends here. Rachel will keep you out of trouble and Tim, well, Tim will watch your back and take out anyone before they have a chance to draw.”

Raylan looked between Elenora and Tim once again. “Army?”

“Rangers.”

“I thank you for your service. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with my daughter, in private.”

Nodding her head, Elenora looked from her father to Art. “Did you wanna order that pizza? Beers are cold and in the fridge.”

“Will do.” Replied Art.

Leading Raylan out of the apartment and into the hall, she walked a few more steps before leaning on the plastered wall. The only closed off rooms in the apartment were a washroom and a walk-in pantry. It left little privacy, but because the whole top floor was hers, the hallway was out of the way. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I didn’t wanna worry you.”

“Worry me?”

Raylan leaned against the wall and took his hat off. Holding it in his hand, he turned the hat over and ran his fingers along the brim. “With what happened to you down here, and what I did back there. I just wanted you to finish your school with nothing distractin’ ya.”

“You shot someone and got yourself shipped off back to your home state. This is after you shipped me off cause it wasn’t safe for me in the same state you were working. Please tell me you don’t expect me to up and leave again.”

“I mean it wouldn’t...”

“You have got to be fuckin kidding me, daddy! I have a home here, a job, friends, a life.”

“And I got people that will eventually want to use you to get to me.”

Elenora pushed off from the wall. “That ain’t anything new, daddy. I defended myself then and I will do it again. I love you, but I can take care of myself.” Moving past her father, Elenora walked back into the apartment, where it was apparent that everyone had been listening to their conversation. She paused and looked around the room as both Rachel and Art attempted to make themselves busy with opening some boxes. Tim, on the other hand, was leaning against the counter, next to the fridge in the kitchen, beer bottle in hand. His eyes were watching her from the second she entered and while she walked across the room to the fridge.

Pulling the door open, Elenora then reached in and grabbed a beer. Throwing the door to the fridge closed, Elenora twisted the cap to her bottle off and tossed it on the counter before bringing the bottle to her lips. Taking a large swallow, she let out a sigh as her father entered back into the apartment. She watched as he made his way to Art and, as the two of them started to converse, Elenora felt herself relax.

Taking a few steps, Elenora put herself at the counter next to Tim. “My daddy’s here.” Whispered Elenora.

“And he’s got a gun,” Replied Tim before taking another drink from his bottle.

Keeping her gaze on her father, Elenora took another large drink from her beer. “I understand if you wanna start runnin’.”

“Ah, you’ve had a long day and I don’t feel like it’s much fair to make you run after me. So I think I’ll just stay right where I am.”

A buzz sounded through the apartment and everyone turned their heads toward Elenora and she just responded with a shrug of her shoulders. “Hey Art, said he was on pizza. I assume that means he’s payin?”

“Oh, alright. Wanna give me a hand, Rachel?”

“Fine old man, I’ll carry your pizza’s,” Said Rachel as she followed Art out the door with a laugh.

Once it was just the three of them, Raylan made his way towards the kitchen and looked between Elenora and Tim and when he reached the fridge, he held a hand to the door handle in question. “May I?”

“What’s mine is yours.” Said Elenora, before downing the last of her bottle. Once she was done, she placed the bottle on the counter and then reached forward for the bottle her father had just taken for himself. She cracked it open and took a drink.

“Good, because I’m gonna need a couch.” Elenora nearly spit out the mouth full of beer as she looked at her father. “Good to know that would have been your reaction. Don’t worry, the Marshal’s Service is paying for a motel until I get the living arrangements sorted. Besides, I don’t wanna get in the way of whatever boy it is you’re shaking up with.”

Eleanor just rolled her eyes at her father. “There is no boy.”

“Sure there is. Art told me you haven’t slept in your bed much this last week. With finals, I tend to find that a little odd given your study habits.” Said Raylan as he pulled another beer from the fridge.

“I’ve been staying with Mandy, and if I wasn’t studyin’, I was drinkin’.”

“Sure, sure. You keep him a secret for now, unless.” Raylan began as he closed the fridge and cracked a beer. “You two seem awfully chummy. Deputy Gutterson, you wouldn’t be the one preoccupying my daughter’s evenin’ time now, would you?” Raylan asked, starting down Tim. The tip of his bottle pointed at the man.

Tim responded with a cock of his head and a laugh, and when Raylan did not negate his hard stare, Tim straightened up. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not dating anyone, daddy.” Said Elenora with a smirk.

“Well, you best be tellin’ this non existent boyfriend of yours that at some point in the near future, him and I are going to be having a talk. Most likely at the firing range or a dark, empty alley.”

“If I was seeing someone, why couldn’t you just be happy for me? Why do you need to threaten him? I’m not a little girl anymore, daddy.”

“Sunshine. No man will ever be good enough for you and you will always be my little girl.”

Soon Art and Rachel were back, pizza in hand, and the discussion of Elenora’s love life came to a close. After eating some pizza and drinking a few more beers, the group helped Elenora build up about a dozen bookcases and a few large cube storage units that she had situated as a divider between her living area and her sleeping area. When you entered the apartment, you were put into the middle of the living space. To the right of that was a large open kitchen area with a makeshift island that Elenora had created out of some rolling wooden workbenches, and to the left was the sleeping area, with the bathroom and a sliding glass door out to a small balcony. The balcony was just big enough for one chair but there was a small six step staircase that let you on to the roof, and a private area. There, Elenora had been gifted a patio set that had been left from a tenant five moves earlier. It was easier than actually trying to get anything back up or down.

“Nell, you know, you have the entire Harry Potter collection in five different languages right?” Tim ran a finger along the spine of each one as he inspected them. Everyone had left hours ago and Tim, too. He went home, gathered a bag of overnight items and a fresh set of clothes for tomorrow. Making sure that he took the long way back and that Elenora’s trigger happy father did not follow him. He even parked two blocks away and Elenora helped Tim enter through a back service door, just to be safe. “How did you afford all these? Didn’t realize being a student paid so well.” Elenora watched from the floor, where she was unpacking another box of books.

“I worked in the library at the university, and at a bookstore both before and after coming out here. I got to save up most of it. Got a little money from the government when my momma died. Daddy and a scholarship helped with the school. I like books. It’s nice to get lost in a good one.”

Elenora watched as Tim plucked Storm Front by Jim Butcher from the shelf and flipped it over in his palm. “This is a good series.”

“You, read fantasy?”

“Between the sandbox and my ass-hole of a father, it was an escape.” Tim placed the book back on the shelf and walked over to Elenora. “Speaking of fathers, yours is interesting.” Tim held out a hand and pulled Elenora to her feet. “Almost had to change my pants.” Tim had a sly smile on his lips as he spoke, and it made Elenora laugh.

“Well, you aren’t running, so that must be a good sign?” Elenora placed her arms on top of Tim’s shoulders and put her hands on the back of her neck.

Tim placed his hands on her hips and smiled down at her. “I said almost, and something tells me you might be worth staring down the barrel of your daddy’s gun.”

Pushing forward, Elenora brought her lips to Tim’s. She kissed him softly, and he responded in kind, his hands tightening on her hips but his pace matching her own. Tim was patient in many things Elenora had noticed, but with her, she noticed he would give off signs he was restraining himself. Trying to let her take the lead, let her be the one in control of the moment. It all made her toes tingle and her stomach tighten. It was one of the many reasons she was falling hard for Deputy United States Marshal Tim Gutterson.

Chapter Six

[eternalgoldfish]

raised on little light

Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens | M | 6.6k

Boyd leaned his forehead against the glass partition, his eyes dancing with something slow and mischievous, the phone held between loose fingers. "In some ways we are old gods, Raylan. You ever think that? Lawmen and outlaws, both above the law, just on different sides." “Is that what you're preaching in there now?” Raylan squinted. “The conman’s bible? May cause some difficulties with your future parole.” “The only difficulty to my parole visits on Wednesdays, and he's neglected to attend my congregation.”

Read on AO3

[pawpawholler]

“Home is the place where, when you have to go there, / They have to take you in.”

“What about ‘em?” asked Raylan, following Art’s gaze. Part of the marshal’s remit was finding missing children, and Raylan figured they were part of someone’s investigation. Scrubbing his hand across his face, Raylan stifled a yawn. Face solemn, Art leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his paunch. “They’re Boyd’s. And you’re their legal guardian while he’s incapacitated.”

[parisian-nicole]

Justified: City Primeval Raylan & Carolyn (Rayolyn) moments from episode 4: Kokomo. I love their chemistry and playfulness so much! 😍

[anneswritingnook]

Broken, But Still Good

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tim was saved by Raylan’s phone ringing.

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I still killed your plant,” he argued.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[galactic-academia]

Dancing in the dark

Rating: G

Category: F/M

Fandom: Justified

Relationship: Raylan Givens x F!Reader

Tags: language, angst, pining, very, very lightly implied age gap (Raylan was a newbie long before the reader became a Marshal), pining, Tim and Rachel are the best, Raylan is kind of an asshole, oblivious Raylan.

Words count: 2,5K

Summary: Raylan hurt your feelings (in a stupid, stupid way). No happy ending.

Notes: There, enjoy this piece of fanfiction I totally didn't write out of spite and to cope with my own feelings 🙃 I'm not a native, please forgive my mistakes. Title from Bruce Springsteen "Dancing in the dark", obviously.

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Timothy Olyphant Masterlist

"Hi there!"

You smile and feel stupid as Rachel greets you before sitting at her desk. You're so obvious it hurts.

"You ok?"

She seems genuinely worried about you. Rachel's tough, but, deep down, she's a sweetheart.

"Yup, just fine", you try another smile, one you know won't reach your eyes and make you look even more awkward, it's that even possible, "What about you?"

"She's lying", yes, deep down, Rachel is a sweetheart, but, on the surface, she is pretty insufferabe, just like all the other Marshals; maybe that's a sine qua non condition to get enrolled in the Services, "Gutterson, why is she lying?"

Wearifully tearing his eyes away from his computer screen, Tim sights and mutters "Just let it go, Brooks, alright?", before going back to what he's reading.

Tim was there, yesterday, he witnessed the whole debacle and he didn't even laugh. You love him for it.

Rachel is taking a big inspiration before - no doubt about this - pushing to know what happened in her absence when he enters the bullpen.

"Hi."

He's barely audible. For a man of his stature and a nasty little shit like him, it never stops surprising you.

Rachel looks at you as you don't smile. You don't even answer.

As she's turning to Raylan, ready to chew his head off without preamble, Tim steps in, without looking away from his screen this time, "Don't".

Rachel stays quiet, this is no fun if neither Tim, nor you are ready to harrass Raylan about whatever he did to piss you off. And if you don't want to laugh it off, it must be pretty bad.

It's not. It's so stupid it's embarrassing. And you're not pissed off. You're sad.

You're definitely not Marshal's material. Too kind. Too sweet. Too soft. But you do the job and you do it well. You're a little ray of sunshine, always smiling, babbling, putting on silly voices and making faces to make your coworkers laugh. It works. You know Chief Mullen would like it better if you were more serious, but you can't help it. With all the shit you have to put with everyday, if you don't blow off some steam from time to time, you're going to get crazy. And you know "serious" and "fun" are no opposite. You're the spoonful of sugar. You try to. And most of your coworkers likes you for it.

And then, there is Raylan, who doesn't give a shit. Except for the outlaws he tracks, Raylan doesn't give a shit about anything.

When you arrived in Harlan's Office, you first thought he was especially reserved with you because you were the newbie, and because your sweet dispositions maybe unsettled him a little. And maybe you were right, for he never was mean to you, quite the contrary. But you never managed to befriend him either. You were so impressed, so... enamored with whatever he did and said that you never could breach his shell, while you were very good friend with Tim and Rachel, and even something like a daughter to Chief Mullen.

This lack of proximity, of intimacy, it was eating you alive. All the acts of service you trip over yourself to offer him went unseen. All the little attentions you try to give him went either disregarded or kindly rejected. But you would have put yourself on fire to keep him warm. God...

Until one day, out of the blue, he did something sweet. something totally irrelevant. As the newbie, you were tasked with labelling the sealed proofs. It was no mystery, even an perfect moron could have done it, but it was tedious. You discovered that Raylan had had to do that job long before you and jumped on the occasion to have little conversations about it. Mostly about how a pain in the ass it was to wait for the machine to painfully engrave what you had typed out.

"Sweetie" he had said, "You shoulda' seen the fuckin' device I had to work with. Believe me or not, but the machine I used was even more tedious than yours."

Delighted, you had jumped on the occasion and asked more details about it, which he had willingly unveiled. As tiny and fragile as it was, it still was a bond. And when, at the end of the week, you had found the machine he used to engrave with just next to "yours", butterflies had bursted into your stomach. He had thought about you. He had thought about you, searched for the machine, moved it to put it next to the one you use and just... Waited for you to discover it. And it has absolutely no meaning, it held zero interest, but you rushed to his desk to thank him all the same. Since this day, you had convinced yourself Raylan somewhat liked you, in his own way. Why would he have showed you his old machine, otherwise?

But you were wrong. Raylan just... Doesn't care.

You manage to keep your eyes down for most of the morning, quietly typing away at your computer. Contrary to all of your coworkers, you have no problem with reports; so you agreed to review all of the ones Chief Mullen threws your way before someone hits the "send" button. You can do that all day, all week if you have to. The best strategy to avoid having to interact with Raylan is simple: just wait for him to leave in search of some action. Once he cleared the office, you can go about your own business in peace. But as Chief Mullen opens the glass door of his office to bark something to another Marshal in the bullpen, you instincively raise your head to see what the ruckus is about and you meet Raylan's gaze. He truly has the most entrancing eyes you ever saw. Before knowing him, you used to roll your eyes when you read about a character fussing other how deep and beautiful someone's eyes were, until you met Raylan and his gaze pinned you down. Until you found yourself staring into his eyes and smiling while he did the same. Until you found that, just when he's about to start some stupid shit, his eyes sort of gleams. You can't explain it, but you always know when he's up to no good before everyone.

Upon meeting his gaze, you force yourself to stay put. No smile. No tears. Then you go back to your screen. A few seconds later, you look again to see if he seems upset, but he's unfazed; annoyed with whatever he's working on, if anything. You can pout to your heart content, Raylan won't - ever - ask you what your problem is. He doesn't care.

You don't know Raylan very well; you really barely know him, to say the truth, but still enough to know he won't stay seated at his desk all morning. The man couldn't stay put, even if he wanted to. You don't have to wait for too long before his phone starts ringing and he's out the door in a heartbeat. Keeping your gaze focused on what you're working on is a true trial - no catching his eyes as he passes you by, no big smile, no little joke which always, always manages to make him laugh - but you pull it off. It seems deeply stupid, but avoiding his gaze as much as you can is very important. He could wink at you, and, by now - even if he can prove to be a true dumbass - you're almost sure he caught throwing you a wink probably is the easiest way to make you melt. Just like a goddamn schoolgirl, it makes you blush and fucking giggle, and smile to the void for the rest of the day... Hell, it's been so long since the last wink you got, you can't even remember when it was.

"So", Rachel starts once more when she's sure Raylan is out of the building and won't come back in the middle of the conversation, "What the fuck happened here?"

For the nth time that morning, Gutterson sighs, "Our coworker, here, is discovering how much Givens can be an asshole without meaning to; that's it."

"Well, that's old news, ain't it?"

"Not for her"

Brooks turns towards you, determined to set it clear; "So, what did he do, this time?"

But you definitely don't want to talk about it. This is so childish, so pathetic... You can feel the ball sitting in your sternum growing heavier each time you try to turn it into words. So Tim - hoping to get on with his goddamn report before the end of the day or before his sanity runs out, whatever comes first - takes the matter in his own hands.

"Remember the cinnamon rolls she baked that week-end?"

"Uhuh, they were delicious."

You smile to Rachel, happy that your little treats brang some joy into your office.

"Yeah, well, Raylan declines to even taste them."

Gutterson says it matter of factly. Almost sternly, like some tough truth everybody needs to take on. But Brook's loud reaction brings you some validation, "What?!"

"She went to him with the fluffiest pastry she had and, without even looking at them, he said 'no thanks' and went back to his business."

Tears come instantly to your eyes. Yes. Your crush declined to taste the treats you brang to the office and it made you sad to the point of crying; of still crying about it a whole day after the incident. Pathetic.

Eyes so round it would be comical if you didn't feel like shit, Rachel, with the hope to find some believable excuse to Givens' behavior - not to absolve him (God above, certainly not), but to soothe you - cautiously asks: "Did you tell him this was for your birthday?"

"Yes..." But he probably didn't even listen.

Rachel is fed up, now; her arms crossed on her chest and blowing air trough her nose.

"Goddamn it, girl... Why did you have to choose this moron, uh?"

"Didn't choose him."

"No, you were lightstrucked, right?", she scoffs; opening her arms wide and looking to the sky, "You saw him and you knew. I know he looks so good he could be a chippendale, but seriously-"

Rachel cuts herself in the middle of her rambling when she beholds you sob a laugh. She's right, Raylan is so, so pretty. It's not what lured you in, though. Nope. But that quiet confidence, that experience, all that knowledge coupled to that charming, disarming nonchalance... The bad temper and will for what's right are fucking sexy too. And, yes, those soulful eyes paired to that lightening smile are a true sight to behold, saying otherwise would be a lie. The imagery of the chippendale is hilarious, though; you're sure women would pay a pretty penny to look at Raylan disrobing himself, but you wouldn't. You want him to want it. You don't want a night, or a few of them, you want it all. And you know he can't give you what you want. Meh. Doesn't sound so hilarious, in the end.

You smile to Rachel, tired and wry. "Nonsense, all of it. I feel like I'm fifteen again and I hate every seconds of it, could we go back to work?"

She seems to get the memo, but not Tim.

"You should keep on givin' him the cold shoulder", he says, his brows furrowed.

"What?", you try to play it down, "Aw, please, we're not in the kindergarten anymore-"

"Come on", he insists, "You didn't even greet him back! Stop tripping over yourself to try and please him, let him mind his own business. Run away from him, and he will chase after you."

Now, you're laughing in disblief; "How in Hell can you think such a stupid plan could work?!"

"Not so stupid", of course, Rachel is going to side with Tim on this one, "If you stop being your... sugar-sweet self to him, he could scratch his stupid head and ask himself why".

You don't believe it, not even for an instant, but what other option do you have? You can do that, or you can just let it go.

You definitely should let it go.

"You know... You should keep on trying." You look at Rachel like she sprouts a second head. You would never have bet on such a piece of advice coming out of her mouth. "If you feel like it", she adds as a second thought.

"You never can tell", Tim sums up as he goes back to his own report.

You could ask to be relocated in another office, you could ignore that coworker you could easily work with without having to talk to more than once every other week, or you could simply grow up and stop all that shit altogether. But you don't want to. You want your stomach to flip when Raylans enters the room, the warmth and the butterflies, the mad blush and the feeling of your heart racing in your chest. So you decide to follow your friends' advice: no more sugar for Raylan Givens.

Ah!

A few hours later, you're tasked to tell him that someone up the ladder forgot to tell him he will have to transfer a dangerous inmate all by himself. You do it sternly, but not enough to hide your indignation about the situation from him, it seems, since it makes him laugh and just tells you everything will be alright. And you smile.

And when he almost rams into you, as he's rushing without looking where he steps and you're daydreaming and not paying attention to your surroundings, he stops a hair away from you, surprised to find you there. And you smile.

And when you have to discuss the problems in the file about the coming transfer of the dangerous inmate, he cracks jokes to you, and he laughs, throwing that 20 000 watts smile right into your face and goddamn it... How could you not laugh with him? In what parallel universe are you supposed to restist him? Is there a version on you, in the realm of infinite possibilities, who can even do that?

No.

Because, deep down, you know. You know he's not happy, that there's something broken in him, something that made him build up walls to never be breached ever again. Because you feel that loneliness and the disappointment that comes when everything he does to fill his empty heart backfires. Because you feel he's not ready for it, or only not ready to embrace it, but also that he knows he can't go on like this forever.

You know you should just give up on him; or, at the very least, listen to your coworkers, but you can't. You know you need to be there for when he'll be tired of dancing in the dark.

The end.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: “I ain’t fucking queer,” he says after the fourth time, the blood from Boyd’s split lip smeared across his own, Boyd’s hair sticking up every which way from where Raylan’s hands had been in it. Okay, Raylan, Boyd says every time, each time just as earnest and sincere as the last. That’s okay, Raylan. And every time Raylan still ends up in the cab of a truck or out in the woods or down some backroad in the holler with his hands all over Boyd Crowder and Boyd’s mouth on his, making him forget all reason.

Author: noctiphany

Submitter: @undercovercannibal

[darkness-follows]

Man I love writing Boyd and Raylan.

I love it when characters are easy to write, makes that whole thing so much more fun.

(I'm always open for RP btw)

[letthewhumpbegin]

State of My Head - a Justified fanfiction

Title: State of My Head Fandom: Justified Genre: hurt/comfort, angst Characters: Raylan Givens, Tim Gutterson, Art Mullen

Summary: Raylan had taken only two strides, before the gunshot resonated through the house. The bullet hit him with the force of a sledgehammer.

A case does not go according to plan... 

Word count: 9696 (so far) No. of chapters: 5 (so far) Warnings: contains descriptions and mentions of blood, gunshot wound, panic attack, passing out, hospital, medical procedures and PTSD. Original post date: 3 February 2021 Completed: no (looking to finish this sometime soon, though, but suffering a bit of a writer's block on how to finish it.)

POSTED ON: AO3: click here FF.net: click here

Any and all feedback on my writing is highly appreciated 😇🥰. You can find my full writing masterlist here.

[emma-m-black]

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

[beatrixyagri]

Answering the phone.

"Hello! You've reached Will Graham with the police astrology unit, convicting innocent people since the beginning of police as a concept… oh hey Raylan, nah I'm not busy. Just at a crime scene. Kill anybody lately?"

---

"I'm trying to reach Raylan Givens, you might know him through his career as a professional asshole?" "Ain't he a Marshall?" "Sir, that does not negate my statement. ---

"This is Will Graham, atheist, nay sayer and general buzzkil for local killers."

"No daddy, I was just kidding about the atheist part. Yes. Yes, yes. Daddy I understand, but I'm working. … Yes daddy. This Sunday, I'll see you there. … love you to."

--- "Hello! You've reached Will Graham, supporter of mean dogs and meaner women. Leave a message."

---

"This is Will Graham, legally insane."

"You had me committed Jack."

--- "Harris residence? … Jack. … Stop calling." "The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected."

[eternalgoldfish]

and it's you i'll come for

Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens | E | 1/2 Chapters | 8.3k

Boyd Crowder is out of prison.

For three days, Raylan’s been getting phone calls from Rachel, and Tim, and even goddamn Vasquez, like he thinks Raylan will dump his brains out for quarters and lint and use them to pay for the next flight out to Lexington with his gun already in hand.

He’s retiring. He already filled out the paperwork. He made promises.

But it itches, burns all the way up his spine like fire ants or a carving knife.

Boyd Crowder is out of prison.He cannot, will not, refuses to pick up the phone.

-

Or, Boyd sends Raylan a present. Raylan picks up the phone.

Read On AO3.

[skelingtonsderek]

Saw a meme that asked people to share first and last lines from their last five completed fics and I wanna do it but I'm just going to do the five completed with the highest word count instead because I like the results better.

Rinse Cycle- Teen Wolf - Stiles Stilinski / Chris Argent

First: Saint Louis is home to a myriad of things: City Museum, the River Front, Forest Park, The Arch, high crime rates, low minimum wages, right to work laws, and the award for 7th place in worst driver’s in the U.S. The city is bisected by a loping road that truncates streets and is the bane in the existence of every county kid who’s come into the city to crawl themselves into oblivion from bar to bar.

Last: Maybe he’s not there yet but he’ll get there, he knows. He has faith. If not in himself than in the man his family and friends see when they look at him. He’ll get there.

We Have Worn Out the Meaning of Our Clothes - Teen Wolf - Stiles Stilinski / Chris Argent

First: Some days it’s like it just happened all over again Last: Chris kisses the smooth skin in front of his face and closes his eyes. He should make waffles in the morning. Allison and Stiles love waffles.

Remembrance. - Justified - Boyd Crowder / Raylan Givens

First: He’s got black hair that sticks up everywhere and looks like it's trying to run away from his forehead. Last: “Oh, you know me, Boyd,” Raylan responds, smile breaking out all lopsided and goofy and brighter than the sun above on his face. “I don’t play well with others.” 

The Killing Type - Teen Wolf - Stiles Stilinski / Chris Argent ; Stiles Stilinski / Derek Hale First: ”You're killing me!" Scott shouts over the phone. Last: “Happy anniversary, Stiles.”

When You Are No Longer Useful - Teen Wolf - Stiles Stilinski / Chris Argent ; Allison Argent / Scott McCall ; Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski First: [June] With a flash and a tone, the doorbell goes off. Last: Both of them better come back in one piece or he’ll turn the Virgin Islands into the next lost city of Atlantis single handedly.