#boyd crowder/jimmy tolan

[idembroiderthat]

An embroiderini of Boyd’s precious side piece, Jimmy Tolan. Worst lookout ever, and it sure would be nice if Boyd could learn to read his tone better over the phone.

[meriwetherwrites]

new Justified fic: come see about me

A three-years-later Jimmy epilogue to baby you're a bad idea and bad idea, baby. Jimmy/Boyd, with background Raylan/Tim.

“Your phone’s been makin’ noise,” Boyd tells him, and when he talks, it reminds Jimmy real clearly of all the ways and places Boyd touched him last night. Jimmy gropes around for his phone and looks at it. Jesus, it’s almost ten. Crowder spotted in PR, Tim texted an hour ago. Call me. Jimmy looks at Boyd, who’s watching him with sleepy eyes, and then calls Tim. “Gutterson,” Tim answers. “Yeah, I know, that’s why I called this number,” Jimmy says. “You get my message?” “Yeah, that’s why I called this number,” Jimmy says again.

[queercodedcowboy]

okay FINE 5x13 was a GOOD EPISODE!!!!!!!

[im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons]

Maybe they're born with it, maybe it's

perpetual annoyance

[maraskywalkers]

Jimmy shrugs again. “Trust you with my life, Boyd.” Boyd’s eyes close as he takes a deep breath. It’s maybe too honest, but he can’t help it. It might well be the truest thing he’s ever said. He ain’t ever really gone in for faith, much to his mamma’s chagrin. Never understood her unshakeable belief in God, not until he met Boyd. (quote from chapter 2 of where the pine trees grow and the world slows down by @holographiccs)

[dailyjustified]

[harlan4ever]

So JustTEAfied tea is the best tea on the planet.

Up first, my dear, dear curly-haired boys: Jimmy and Tim.

Jimmy tastes like Christmas. Christmas in Vermont. Christmas morning when you wake up and there’s fresh, undisturbed snow on the ground and sleigh bells inexplicably ringing in the distance. The orange zest pulls heavy along with the spice, and it is glorious.

Tim tastes like the warm air from your car heater when you have the window rolled down on a cold, rainy day. The currant carries a subtle fruity flavor that leans tart, and the gunpowder gives it a bold flavor that makes it a great morning tea.

Next up, the ‘they dug coal together’ husbands, Raylan and Boyd.

Raylan tastes like sitting against a Kentucky hill with your best boy, soaking in the sun and trading barbs, and then someone hands you some bourbon with a touch of sweetness. The Assam adds that sun-kissed earth taste, and the honey bush hazelnut keeps it from getting too bitter.

Boyd tastes like drinking afternoon tea and eating tiny vanilla-iced cookies in some posh bistro in the springtime. The bergamot flavor is balanced out beautifully by the subtly sweet vanilla. And that hint of lemon? A gorgeous aftertaste that lingers.

Last but not least, the place where all the magic happens and the beautiful woman who turns the heads of many Harlan folks, Harlan County and Ava.

Harlan tastes like southern hospitality delivered at a summertime picnic, everyone trying to hand you a slice of the pie they made. The maple creme and the butterscotch are light, sweet flavors that share the stage easily with each other. It is- truly- the perfect tea. Tea lovers and tea haters alike would adore it.

Ava tastes like that first strawberry you eat off your breakfast waffles, dipped in crème and perfectly ripe. The lemon is slightly sweet rather than tart, making this the most perfect summertime iced tea.

I tip my Stetson to you, @im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons.

[gaylanrivens]

I have to know about "jimmy enters slasher au with a steel chair" lolll

@holographiccs

ok so i have a slasher au which is my baby. (@willowmckinley has also contributed) it's currently raylan/boyd/tim but @im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons got me thinking raylan/boyd/tim/jimmy thoughts because of their brilliant kinktober fics. so now i'm throwing jimmy in :)

boyd takes an immediate liking to jimmy and raylan and tim are jealoussss but don't worry they work it out eventually :) i still need to decide why jimmy is in prison though (i do have plans for him in prison though ;))

"Timothy, who is that?" Boyd asks and Tim scowls. He's told him over and over it's just Tim. "That's my new cellmate. Jimmy." Tim doesn't understand why this is important. "You should introduce us." Tim scowls harder. He notices Raylan doesn't look too happy either but Boyd gives him a pointed look and he waves Jimmy over. "Boyd, Raylan this is Jimmy Tolan. Jimmy, this is Raylan Givens and Boyd Crowder." There's not even a flicker of recognition on Jimmy's face.

[panevanbuckley]

justified + the onion headlines [part 2] [1]

[oh2e]

Me: I don’t ship them, but for a bit of light reading...

Fic:

Me: perfect

[oldwestjustice]

[panevanbuckley]

okay but this scene tells a lot about what boyd considers a friend because we know jimmy is one of his closest/most trusted accomplices but he wouldn't ask to borrow his jacket? so he doesn't class him as a friend. yet he's adamant that raylan is a friend...

Justified. [S5.E2: The Kids Aren’t All Right.]

[gingerwerk]

yo kelly, so im in s4 of justified and i was jw who your favorite bad guy was? like doesnt even have to be any of the top ppl... im mainly asking cuz i luv johnny crowder

okay so like, when it comes to justified it’s kinda hard sometimes to have like a clear-cut bad guy. like they may be doing pretty awful things but sometimes they’re doing it for good reasons (like mags rying to save loretta and the community) a lot of the times the “good” guys are doing some really questionable shit (like half the shit raylan does on a given day) so this question is kind of hard to answer lol

but some of my fav “bad” guys are Mags, wynn duffy, daryl crowe jr., catherine hale, and of course boyd lol 

mags, again, not quite sure if she should be considered a bad guy? but like she was the head of a drug enterprise and her heart was in the right place but like, she killed a man (probably more) and honestly the way she did it was so fucked i love it

wynn duffy is my favorite human cockroach (literally my tag for him on here). he is indestructible and sassy as fuck and also goes from 0-100 real quick. he gets a bigger role in s5 and s6 so watch out. at first i absolutely hated him but he grew on me and now he’s not coming off

daryl crowe jr comes in s5 and i hate him a lot but he’s great? in an awful way? i think this is a case of me loving how the actor delivered him? if that makes sense? he’s got a sense of humor/is sarcastic in between being The Worst so i think thats how he’s wiggled into my heart

catherine hale is also another character who comes in in s5 but she’s also in s6 and honestly just the idea of an older woman whose just been the secret kingpin to this giant crime empire is great to me (lol everyone thought it was her husband but jk it was pretty lady pulling the strings surprise) we need more lady crime bosses tbh

boyd is boyd, what can you say. i love him. he’s great. walton’s great

honorable mention to jimmy tolan and dewey crowe for being sweet and dumb people who weren’t bad but got swept up in bad shit!!! 

but yeah i could go on and on about fav “bad” characters and write about their complexities but yeah, this response is long enough already 

hit me up whenever if you wanna talk about justified!!! hope you enjoy the rest of it!!!

[im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons]

Day 6: Orgasm Delay/Denial

Warnings: none

Rating: E

Pairings: Boyd x Raylan, Jimmy x Raylan, Raylan x Tim, Boyd x Jimmy x Raylan x Tim

“Room for one more?”

Raylan’s got his face under the stream of water in the shower, but he doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s Boyd doing the asking – or to know that the man didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door and joining him. He scrubs a hand over his face as familiar hands settle on his hips, turns just in time to catch Boyd’s mouth in a slow, easy kiss. 

“Good morning to you too,” Raylan murmurs, chuckling under his breath as Boyd gently urges him back against the wall, pressing their bodies together in a way that gets Raylan’s attention, immediately. “Extra good morning, actually.”

Boyd kisses him again, a little harder, a little deeper – with purpose – and Raylan melts a little, the full-on attention getting to him more than the feeling of Boyd’s skin against his own. He’s already half-hard, just from Boyd’s hands on his hips and a couple of kisses, and he’s got a feeling this little morning delight isn’t going to take very long at all.

Boyd nips at his lip, soothing the sting with his tongue and swallowing down the desperate little sound Raylan makes. Boyd kisses like he intends on claiming Raylan's mouth for his own - like every inch of Raylan hasn't belonged to him since they were 19 and covered in coal dust - and Raylan isn't keen on talking him out of the urge.

“Raylan,” Boyd says, pressed so close Raylan can feel the rumble of the words in his own chest. The tile is cold, but Boyd is warm, and that’s a tradeoff Raylan will take any day. "Raylan."

The sound of his name in Boyd's low growl of a voice has Raylan shuddering, gasping out a shaky little breath when Boyd wraps a hand around them both. Raylan’s head thunks back against the shower wall, his eyes fluttering shut as a groan works its way out of his throat. 

“You’re going to make me late," he says, more out of the need to be ornery than anything else, and he feels the way Boyd ducks his head to hide his grin against Raylan's shoulder, the little huff of laughter his words draw. 

“Then you might have considered leaving half-an-hour ago, with Tim.”

“You know I need my beauty sleep. I–” Raylan’s voice cracks when Boyd scrapes his teeth over his pulse, and for a moment he wishes for a mark so strongly he can almost taste it. It would show above his collar, be impossible to hide, but he wants it. Wants to wear the bruise, and then come home and have Boyd darken it with sucking kisses and sharp teeth.

Boyd’s grip tightens, and the rest of Raylan’s half-formed reply dies in his throat. "Fuck, Boyd," he manages. "Just like that." He bucks his hips up, chasing the tightening coil of pleasure he can feel beginning to build low in his gut. Boyd knows how to work him, how to wind him up just right, and Raylan's never quite figured out how not to fall apart at his touch.

Boyd gets him right there, right to the edge, and then-

"Goddammit," Raylan groans, as Boyd's hand falls away, leaving him aching and straining and so, so close. "Boyd, what the fuck."

Boyd presses a kiss to his collarbone, and Raylan would consider it apologetic except for the way Boyd nips at the skin, leaving a red, stinging mark behind, one that Raylan will feel even if it won’t show. “Not yet,” Boyd says, and the raspiness of his voice and the pleased little smile on his face is almost enough to make up for the fact that Raylan has to spend ten minutes thinking about coal dust and slurry to get his jeans to zip up.

Almost.

<hr>

Four hours later, Tim drags him out of the office for “lunch,” and Raylan doesn’t suspect a thing until Tim pulls into an empty parking lot and all but attacks his belt.

“Easy,” Raylan says, like he’s not primed and ready to go from the way Boyd left him hanging in the shower. "Christ, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, yet," Tim says, cheeky in a way that doesn't register immediately, and then those long, slender fingers slip into Raylan's underwear and wrap around his cock. And Raylan…

Well, Raylan fucking loves Tim's hands. Tim's got a habit of giving him the full length of them when he fingers Raylan open, and sometimes that's all Raylan can think about when he sees Tim twirling a pen around in the office, or pouring a cup of coffee at home. Even now, with Tim jerking him off rough and fast and perfect, that's where Raylan's mind goes: to Tim's fingers slipping a little lower, pressing into him, stretching him open just fast enough for it to burn in the best of ways.

"Might have to talk you into getting something into me," Raylan pants, and Tim rewards him with a devastating twist of his hand. Raylan whimpers, spreading his legs a little more, and pushes up into the touch best he can.

He's close, and he’s not even embarrassed about it. He's going to make a mess of his pants and probably his shirt, but he can taste the orgasm that's coming and he's not going to make Tim stop, not for anything. 

Tim, though, seems to have a different idea. 

“Whoops,” he says, far too cheery for the time and the place and Raylan’s own desperation. “Look at the time. We don’t want to be late getting back to the office.”

And then he takes his hand away, leaving Raylan aching and unsatisfied. 

“Are you fucking serious,” Raylan grits out, and Tim’s grin only widens, even though his pupils are so dark Raylan can only see a sliver of blue. The knowledge that Tim isn't unaffected should be a balm, but instead it just drives Raylan's frustration higher.

Tim makes a soft, sympathetic little sound, patting Raylan’s thigh in what he figures is supposed to be sympathy. “You want some ice for that?”

Raylan is going to kill him.

“Fuck you, Gutterson.”

<hr>

By the time Raylan gets home, he’s wired and on-edge and he's got a fucking plan. It's not a complicated one. Really all it involves is getting behind about locked door and fucking his own hand until he finally, finally, can come. 

But as soon as he walks through the door, Jimmy is there, grabbing his hand and leaning up for a kiss, and Raylan's not going to deny him that, not ever. And when Jimmy tugs him out to the living room, Raylan goes just as easily, because… well, because. The thought of help is infinitely more appealing than his existing plan.

Jimmy seems to have a plan of his own, judging from the way he all but shoves Raylan down onto the couch – and it's a plan Raylan is very much on board with. He raises his hips to help Jimmy tug his pants down, and then welcomes the younger man into his arms, leaning up to kiss the eager little smile right from his mouth.

"Lube," he breathes between kisses, but Jimmy just shakes his head, grabs Raylan's hand and guides it back so Raylan can feel where he's already wet and open, ready and waiting.

Raylan groans, deep in his chest, says, "You're my favorite," just to hear Jimmy's delighted little laugh. Then Jimmy sinks down onto him in one smooth, relentless motion, and Raylan feels it in his teeth. 

"All right, baby, all right," he manages, squeezing Jimmy's hips hard enough that he knows there will be bruises later. "Not wasting time, are you?"

"Want you," Jimmy says simply, and - well, how is Raylan supposed to argue with that?

He grits his teeth as Jimmy sets a pace that can only be described as desperate, sheer force of will the only thing stopping him from bucking up into Jimmy's tight heat and chasing his own orgasm. And even with that, it's only a handful of minutes later when he feels that telltale tightening, knows the point of no return is closer than he'd liked it to be. 

It takes every ounce of will he's got left to grab ahold of Jimmy’s hips and still him, to drag himself back from the edge. He’s figured out the game, now, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to disappoint – even if another denial might be enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

"Need a minute," he gasps out. "Just – don't move."

Raylan hears Boyd before he sees him, the measured sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Raylan sees him lean up against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, looking all the world like he just walked in on Sunday brunch, and not Raylan with his pants around his ankles and Jimmy in his lap.

“Now what did I tell you,” Boyd drawls, smooth as molasses, and it’s impossible to miss the way Jimmy tightens, how color starts to bleed down the back of his neck. “Raylan will behave, if he’s got the proper motivation.”

“You’re a bastard,” Raylan grits out, and then leans up to kiss the hinge of Jimmy’s jaw, just to make sure there’s no misunderstanding around who he meant. “I should have fucking known this was your idea.”

Tim appears on the other side of the doorway, and when Boyd lifts his arm, he ducks under easily, tucking himself in against Boyd's side. And even with irritation making his skin hot and his words sharp, Raylan can't help but love the sight of the two of them together. 

Can’t help but wish they were together just a little fucking closer.

Jimmy shifts a little, and Raylan groans, letting his head flop back against the back of the couch. "You can't," he begins, and then makes himself take a deep, steadying breath. "Jimmy, sweetheart, you have to let me catch my breath or I'm going to ruin your fun."

Jimmy grins crookedly, reaches up to run the fingers of one hand through Raylan's hair. "Nah," he says. "This is the fun. No more teasing, I promise. Boyd and Tim got to wind you up - I get to let you go."

"Well, in that case…" Raylan reaches between them, gets a hand on Jimmy's cock. They both groan – Jimmy at the friction, Raylan at how Jimmy bucks his hips to seek it out. "Fuck," he breathes, and Jimmy echoes him with a strangled little whimper.

"Raylan, please," Jimmy whines, like he's the one who's been teased all damn day, but it does the trick. Raylan thrusts once, twice, and comes with a strangled, choked-off gasp, biting his tongue as the pleasure hits him hard enough to make his ears ring and his vision go dangerously dark. And the way Jimmy keeps moving, chasing his own peak, means it doesn't fucking end. It feels like he can't even breathe, not until Jimmy cries out brokenly and comes all over Raylan's stomach.

Raylan bows his head, pressing his forehead to Jimmy’s shoulder, and tries to catch his fucking breath. After a moment, Jimmy’s fingers skim softly up his back. “You good?” he asks, and Raylan groans wordlessly.

“Just fucking peachy,” he croaks after a moment, but it’s worth it for the way Jimmy laughs and presses a kiss to the top of his head – for the way Boyd and Tim settle on either side of them, finally as close as Raylan wants them.

Find this fic on AO3 here:

[dailyjustified]

[im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons]

Day 21: Swapping/Sharing Clothes

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Pairing: Boyd/Raylan/Tim/Jimmy

“I need your shirt.”

Raylan looks up, his hands stilling halfway through doing up the buttons of the shirt he’s putting on – the shirt Boyd is now eyeing more than a little expectantly. It’s one of Raylan’s favorites, a broken-in red plaid that’s soft against his skin and comfortable to move in. 

It’s also a perennial favorite among his boys.

Raylan glances at the closet, where he can see at least four of Boyd’s own shirts hanging up, but he doesn’t point those out. If Boyd’s asking, it’s not the shirt part that’s important, it’s the it belongs to Raylan part. And if that’s the case…

“Your timing needs work,” he says, and starts undoing the buttons. It earns him a smile, a little softer than Boyd’s usual ones, but honest all the same. “You got plans today?”

“Not a one,” Boyd replies, and – well, Raylan figured. He shrugs out of the shirt and holds it out to Boyd, who ambles over to collect it, the smile on his face widening a little when he pulls it on and finds it still warm from Raylan’s body heat. 

“I expect that back in one piece,” Raylan says, like they haven’t done this a hundred times, like Boyd hasn’t always returned the shirt to him clean and folded, with a little more reverence than Raylan thinks that particular article of clothing deserves. He reaches out, batting Boyd’s hands away when he reaches for the buttons and doing them up himself instead, smoothing his palms over the fabric covering Boyd’s chest when he’s done. “There we go.”

“Thank you, Raylan.”

Boyd kisses him before he goes, a sweet brush of his lips and nothing more, but Raylan thinks that if he ever got around to charging for this particular service, that’s all he’d ask for, anyway.

~~~~

Raylan finds Tim on the couch, the dark circles under his eyes more than enough to tell Raylan exactly what kind of night he had. The nightmares don't strike often, not anymore, but when they hit they hit hard. Tim can't shake them, not for days.

He has his rituals, the things he does to soothe himself. He'll check the locks on all the doors and windows, or clean his weapons, or, if it's close enough to a reasonable time to wake up, he'll make breakfast in the kitchen with Boyd.

And, sometimes, he'll steal the soft red flannel out of Raylan's section of the closet.

It’s big on him, hitting him mid-thigh and loose in the shoulders, but he tends to roll the sleeves up and wrap it around himself, wearing it more like a robe than a shirt. And Raylan doesn’t tease, not about this. He’d defy anyone to call Tim vulnerable, at least to his face, but that’s what he is in these moments, and none of them have any desire to press and make it worse.

Still, Raylan leans down, brushing his lips over Tim’s hair. “Come shower with me?” he asks. Tim huffs a breath, like he always does, though Raylan hasn’t quite figured out if he’s more annoyed at being asked or because he knows he’s going to agree.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” Tim mutters. “Who waits until now to shower?”

“Some of us need our beauty sleep,” Raylan says with a grin Tim can’t see, and Tim huffs again, a little more amused and slightly less annoyed this time. He tilts his head back so he can meet Raylan’s gaze, and there’s not a smile on his face but Raylan can see it pulling at his eyes all the same.

“The last thing you need is to be prettier.” Tim tempers his words with a kiss pressed to the cut of Raylan’s jaw. “Yeah, all right. Fine. I get to control the temperature, though.”

Raylan grumbles, just because that’s what he does, but there’s no heat behind it. And he doesn’t say a word when Tim hangs his shirt on the hook on the back of the bathroom door, clearly intending on putting it right back on when they’re done. 

There are worse things than a little hot water and someone he loves wearing his clothes, after all.

~~~~

The bedside lamp is on when Raylan walks into the bedroom, illuminating the bed and its immediate surroundings with a pale gold glow. It's just enough light for Raylan to see who's curled up under the blankets, and that is just enough to make him smile.

Jimmy's only got the covers pulled up to his waist, and Raylan might expect to see bare skin above that, but Jimmy's wrapped himself in familiar red plaid, and the sight makes something twist in Raylan's chest.

The shirt is too big on Jimmy, like it is on Tim. The sleeves hang down far past his wrists, and the fabric is loose around his arms. There's no doubt the shirt isn't his, and maybe that's why he only ever wears it to bed, but Raylan can't find it in himself to be anything other than hopelessly endeared.

He sits down carefully on the edge of the bed, reaching out to run his fingers gently through Jimmy's hair. "Hey, baby," he says, when Jimmy's eyelashes flutter. "Sorry I’m so late coming home. You okay?"

Jimmy nods, but he also doesn't offer anything else up. He just scoots back, making more room on the mattress in front of him, and Raylan knows a request when he sees it. He kicks off his boots and slides under the covers, letting Jimmy curl into him, slipping his hand up under the shirt so he can rub his palm over Jimmy's back. Jimmy sighs, quietly happy, and Raylan smiles.

The shirt is a comfort, sure, but it’s a poor substitute for the real thing. 

"I've got you," he murmurs. "Go back to sleep, baby, I'm right here."

find this fic on AO3 here: