#raylan givens the man you are

[mudkipper]

The old man yaoi yearn for the mines

[leona-florianova]

Hey... More Justified sketches...

[lolligaggin]

[marshal-raylan-givens]

@itookyoudown

JUSTIFIED 2.11

[undercovercannibal]

If you're raised with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house. You will find him even when he is not there. ― Catherine Lacey, Cut

RAYLAN GIVENS in JUSTIFIED SEASON 1

[bullet-prooflove]

The Only One: Raylan Givens x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989

There is no one in this world who leaves your sheets more messed up than Raylan Givens. The shit that man does to you would make the devil himself blush. He’s in your bed again tonight, his lips chasing all over your skin, his tongue licking over the love marks he left on your thighs the night before.

He’s gotten a little territorial. There had been another man touching you at the bar, tucking your hair back behind your ear and Raylan, he just couldn’t stand that, not even if it was to get a little information on one of his fugitives. You’d spent the rest of night with his face buried between your thighs as he made you holler out his name.

“Louder honey.” He’d demanded as he fucked you  into the mattress, his palm resting on your throat. “I want God himself to know who you belong to.”

Your whole goddamn neighbourhood knows by the time he was finished with you and that’s the way he likes it. It stops any of those other boys getting ideas about coming around when he’s away.

He’s gentler tonight, more tender. His hands roam all over your body, stroking, caressing, teasing you until there’s a pleading to your voice that needs sating.

“Oh baby, you don’t have to beg.” He mumbles against the corner of your mouth as he sinks into you. “I always take care of my girl, don’t I?”

And he does, he takes care of you in that way that only Raylan can. Rising you up until your cresting, cradling you close as you fall. He makes love to you until the sun comes up, until it cascades across your skin bathing it in a pretty warm glow as you hit that high for the third time tonight. You take him with you, his release spilling inside you as his mouth covers yours, drinking down your pleasure.

“You always know how to show me a good time don’t you Raylan?” You whisper as your fingertips ghost over the stubble on his jaw, his eyes meeting yours. “The only one who truly knows exactly how to love me.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs as his mouth captures yours once more. “I certainly am.”

Love Raylan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[the-marshals-wife]

Restless (Raylan Givens x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: More than a little inspired by the Lady A song "Need You Now", here's an impromptu Raylan fic because this gif also inspired me and it's past time I wrote something for my marshal man. ✪

Description: Raylan Givens x Fem!Reader, moody fluff | Warnings: kissing, guns and alcohol mentioned | Setting: before Primeval | Word count: 1,064 | Gif credit: user vincenzides

Imagine being unable to sleep and finding Raylan on your porch keeping watch

It was another sleepless night for you. There seemed to be million things to worry about lately, and not enough daylight hours to do it in. You'd spent the last two staring up at the ceiling before giving up hope for a restful night. You rub at your eyes as you make your way down the stairs, each creaking step ringing throughout the old farmhouse. If you were being honest, the house being paid off was the only thing not making you lose sleep.

You'd gone the route of warm milk and hot tea before, but you found the only thing that truly helped in times like these was curling up in your grandfather's rocking chair. Even just a few minutes there never failed to soothe your troubled mind and bring back the peace of simpler days.

You flip the lock on front door, pull it open as it squalls on the hinges, and switch on the flickering porch light.

"Still need to change that," you remind yourself, adding to your already exhaustive mental list.

With it well past midnight, it was almost unsettling how still and silent it was outside. You push open the screen door and step onto the weathered porch boards in your slippers. In the summer months, at least you had the comfort of the crickets chirping. But on a damp spring night like tonight, the abundant life of the hollows had yet to sing its song.

Having just crawled out of your warm bed, the cool air hits your face and sends chills right through you. You cross your arms and shuffle towards the end of the porch.

You freeze in place, however, when you see a dark silhouette sitting motionless in the rocker. Fight or flight already kicking in, you're counting the steps backward to the shotgun just inside the door when the shadowy figure speaks.

"Don't shoot me," calls a familiar voice.

"Raylan Givens, you just about gave me a heart attack," you exhale as you clutch your chest.

"We wouldn't want that," he replies, peering up in the dim light, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to scare you."

As your heart starts beating again, you begin to find your words. You pull your robe tighter around yourself and tentatively approach him. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," he says, as if that were an explanation.

"Well I can see that. But what are you doing on my porch?"

He leans back in the rocker and turns his head towards the pitch black yard. "Had a feeling."

"Bad?" you question, watching him survey the darkness.

"Yeah."

You sigh. That's the way it was with Raylan. The quickest draw in the county with a witty comeback or sarcastic comment, but never one to waste words on the hard days.

"Guessing you don't want to talk about it," you venture, sitting down in the wicker chair beside him.

"Not really," he answers.

You nod, frowning. "Can I at least get you a drink?"

"No, thank you. Had plenty already," he says, finally looking over at you, "I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he sighs, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair.

"Raylan, should I be worried here? Is something coming? Do I need to put on my 'shooting shoes'?" you laugh a bit, hoping to ease the tension.

"No, it's not like that," he chuckles, leaning forward on his knees and staring down at his boots, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm doing here. There's nothing wrong. Just the whiskey talking, I guess."

You scoff. "You're many things, Raylan Givens, and a good liar is not one of them."

He glances up at you and smirks.

"Why are you really on this porch tonight?" you ask.

He leans back again, eyes fixed on the hat still in his hands. "This job gets you a lot of enemies. That I wouldn't mind so much, except it never ends with me. People I care about tend to get caught in the crossfire."

He turns to you, and even in the dark, you see in his eyes a vulnerability you'd scarcely seen before.

"I can live with a lot of things, but I won't live with you getting hurt. Least of all because of me. I'm not gonna let that happen."

You pause as you realize that not only was Raylan being honest about his feelings, but that he has them for you. You half-expected a hallelujah chorus to follow, but there was only the peaceful quiet of the evening. Maybe you were asleep, you wonder, for surely this was a dream.

"There's only one thing for it then," you begin, standing up.

You take the hat from his hands and place it in the chair you'd just left. Before he can protest, you sit down on his lap, and he stares at you completely stunned. Tucking your legs up, you lay your head on his shoulder and rest your hand on his chest.

"You'll just have to stay here," you declare softly.

Hesitating only a moment, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.

"Guess I'll have to," he replies.

Several moments of him holding you in comforting silence go by before he speaks again, and you can hear him smile as he does.

"I should warn you, though. I've been told, by just a few people mind you, that I can be a pain in the ass."

You sit up, snickering, "Tell me something I don't know."

His gaze softens, weighing your challenging words.

"Alright, how about this. If I stay, I don't have plans to leave."

Just when you thought he couldn't surprise you any more, he goes and says a thing like that, looking at you the way he is.

"That's good. Because I don't have plans to let ya," you smirk.

You let your words and worries fall to the wayside as you lean in and kiss him. His hand slides up your neck and into your hair as he kisses you back hard, tasting like whiskey and longing. Many heartbeats of intoxicating embrace pass before you both remember to breathe.

He grins at you and chuckles.

"You're never getting rid of me now."

[its-in-the-woods]

Hi! I am Chris, 30s, they/them, pansexual, I am from the great white north eh! Minors are very much not welcome. Please exit or block.

I primarily write fanfic, I am down with any ship but I won't write every ship. Listen to variety of music and watch a variety of TV show/movies.

POLL FOR WHAT I WRITE NEXT

Find me here for AO3

Find me on twit-ter

*Last update Sept 18/2024

Lifes Too Short (complete)

Pairing: Cooper Howard/ The Ghoul x Lucy Maclean (Fallout tv show)

Rated: Mature - Canon typical violence and smut

Synopsis: Weeks of wandering the desert brings Lucy and the Ghoul closer. Takes place after the last episode for fallout tv show

Chapters one, two, three, four, five, six

Down The Rabbit Hole (wip)

Pairing: Walton Goggins x you (AU) (both are single)

Rating Mature: Romance, fluff, older man/younger women, eventual smut (read all tags in chapters)

Synopsis: Working as a Make-up Artist in film is hard enough. But when the lead actor, Walton Goggins, ask you to be his artist. It's easy to slip down the rabbit hole.,

Chapters one , two , three , four, five, six, seven ,eight , nine, Ten, Eleven, twelve , thirteen , fourteen , fifteen , sixteen, seventeen , eighteen here, nineteen here , twenty here , twenty-one here, twenty- two here <-new

The Woman Who Couldn't Die

Synopsis: Set a few years before Dom Pedro gets a hold of the Ghoul. The Ghoul is traveling back from the east coast, doing side quests for chems, after saving a girl from closet. She becomes an unlikely companion, that softens the Ghoul’s hardshell.

One , Two , Three, Four , Five, Six , Seven, Eight , Nine , Ten, Eleven , Twelve , Thirteen , fourteen <-new

An old farm set on a couple hundred acres of land, surrounded by forest and wildlands. Lucy Maclean is now the new owner of her childhood home, much to her family’s dismay and anger. The land doesn’t feel the same without her Granddaddy around, the woods seem darker and much vaster. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s alone in the middle of nowhere for the first time in her life. Her great uncle Harris has stepped up to help her learn the ropes of the business, which is bigger than Lucy ever imagined. Her neighbor Cooper Howard, is happy to meet a new face in the area. Bonding over their shared grief and strife to make ends meet as the world is changing. Their worlds are shaken when Lucy’s home is vandalized, and secrets that were supposed to be buried forever begin to emerge from the woods. Horror, mystery, and drama all rolled into one. There is something in the woods.

One, Two, Three , Four Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine , Ten , Eleven , Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen <- COMPLETE

Knife's edge ~ co-written by @dichromaniac

Pairing: Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens, Ava Crowder/Boyd Crowder

Warnings?: Dinking/alcohol, knife kink, Blood/injury, hand job, blow job, alternative universe, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Canon Divergence, Closeted,

Summary: Boyd punctuates his statement with the gun, bruising Raylan's torso with the thrusts of the weapon. “You're the same angry young man who left, only difference is you ain't so young anymore.”

Part 1 *~* Part 2

One-shot-wonders

Smokey Music walton x you

***

Short Stories

Smoke and shadows -> horror

Random poetry, very personal often deals w mental health

Empty houses

Crave

[boydcrowdr]

the amount of trauma we learn raylan givens endured before and during the first ep alone explains so much of why he is the way he is it’s actually crazy. like what do you mean he watched a man die by having dynamite shoved down his throat while tied up right beside him and what do you mean it’s never gonna be brought up again???? what do you mean he almost died in a mine collapse while holding the hand of the man he’s now returned to his hometown to kill but his bullet is going to coincidentally graze just past his heart???? what do you mean??????

[mickaltieri]

My favorite Timothy Olyphant characters (not in order)

Mickey Altieri

Scream 2 (1997)

first tim character I got to know and love <3

he may be a psychotic serial killer but he’s still a babe!!!!!!

if you don’t think he’s the best ghostface and character, you’re just lying to yourself

he is just a silly film student killing in his free time

maybe didn’t have much screen time but he served in every scene he was in (quality over quantity bitches)

considering that this was tim’s first big role, he did such an incredible job and i’ll always be intrigued by his performance as mickey

i’d let him murder me any time byeeeeeee

Nick Bennett

A Perfect Getaway (2009)

Nickoooo!!!!!

stole my heart the very first second i saw him (and he’s not giving it back)

sweet little angel who could still kick your ass with ease

if you say you love him more than i do, i’d start a fight with you

i want a sequel so badly just because i miss him daily and need him desperately back.

i could listen to this man all day long

like just let ME buy YOU an engagement ring from ebay

also a big fan of tim’s performance in this one, definitely so under appreciated

Raylan Givens

Justified (2010-2015) & Justified: City Primeval (2023)

he is the moment

i say this a lot but he’s the best protagonist ever, idc what anyone else says

i wanna steal his cowboy hat from him

the vibe of his character???? and love how unpredictable he is sometimes

if you look up the word ‘legend’ you’ll find a picture of raylan right next to it

it’d be an honor to be shot by him

his one liners are top notch

tim was just born to play raylan, no one could’ve been better. he was the perfect choice

Joel Hammond

Santa Clarita Diet (2017-2019)

owner of the baby community

literally the most comforting character to ever exist!!!!

joel is probably the most relatable tim character for me

the perfect husband!!!!! would kill to have myself a joel

just wanna protect him from anything bad. so if you dare to shit talk about him, i’ll end you

is SO different from most of his other characters which can be super refreshing

santa clarita diet was the best, we deserve another season and undead joel!!!! tim would’ve killed it

[freshydip]

this is so fucking funny to me. Raylan Givens, body count in the dozens, who has never recognized a single emotion he's ever had in his life other than annoyance, here to give a man a lecture on self-awareness and morality! i think the show is at its strongest when it leans into/emphasizes the theme of justification. and opening season 4 with this scene does exactly that in a great way. like oh wow Raylan you think this man's actions in killing two criminals are not Justified hm? got it. real quick how many criminals have you killed again? like forty? cool cool cool just making sure. quick follow up question. do you know of any good therapists in your area. just wondering

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 3- Stakeout to Takeout

Summary: After a victorious arrest, Tim weasels his way into another evening with you, this time at your apartment.

A/N: Tim Gutterson x Female!Deputy, Deputy Marshal Gutterson x Female!Deputy, She/Her Pronouns, Y/F/N, Y/L/N, U.S. Deputy Marshal Service, Justified T.V. show references, Raylan Givens, Rachel Brooks, Art Mullen (reader’s uncle), Dewey Crowe, Military/Law Enforcement terminology, Mentions weaponry and alcohol, sexual innuendos, a splash of sexism, FOREVER FLUFF, SMUT

Courtesan-(mainly in historical contexts) a prostitute, especially one with wealthy or upper-class clients.

@awaterfalls Tim Gutterson Smut just for you ❤️

~~~~~~~

“Get your fingers away from that dial.” Tim warned you as he gently slapped your hand.

“Tim, it’s just commercials.” You protest as you retract your hand from the radio.

You and Tim were only 3 hours into your stakeout and you were already bickering.

“Don’t underestimate the importance of commercials. Leave it.”

You release an exasperated sigh and look out the window. Tim looked over at you, most likely scheming another way to sass you. He redirects his attention out the windshield.

“So this guy, Dewey, is your C.I.?”

“Yep. Local redneck without a clue.” Tim replied.

You flip through the file your uncle gave you, and find Dewey Crowe’s picture.

“Cute. Is he single?” You joke.

Tim only responded with an unamused eye roll. You chuckle as you closed the file, and looked out the window again.

“And this bar that this Johnny Crowder owns has a whore house in the back?” You query.

“Yeah, a trailer. It’s one of Dewey’s favorite pit stops.” Tim confirmed.

You nod scanning the area around the bar you were parked up the block from.

Suddenly you see a rough looking little man exit his rickety pick up truck wearing a cut off shirt exposing his tattooed arms. You notice the signature neck tattoo as the one you just saw in the file.

“There’s your man.” Tim said as he intensely watched Dewey crossing the street.

“Ok, game on.” You announce tucking your badge into the inseam of your jeans.

As you open the car door Tim grabbed your forearm.

“Be careful.” He implored with concern behind his beautiful blue eyes.

You faintly smile at him, “I will. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll be right behind ya.” He assured.

You exit the vehicle and start walking towards Johnny’s Bar. As you breeze through the door, you unbutton the first few buttons of your sleeveless shirt. You see Dewey at the bar ordering shots of dark liquor.

You sashay at the far end of the bar opposite from the entrance so when Dewey sees you, he’ll turn his back to the only escape route where Tim is supposed to come through. You rest your elbows on the surface of the bar, slightly bent over accentuating your rear to get Dewey’s attention. Worked like a charm.

Dewey looked over at you with a stupid crooked grin. Too easy. You wink at him.

“Hey, darlin’ I ain’t seen your face around here before. You new in Harlan?” Dewey called over to you.

“I’m just passin’ through, honey. Just on a little roadtrip by my lonesome, working my way across state lines.” You say as you wiggle your hips side to side.

“What kinda work you do?” Dewey asked as he slinked his way over to your side of the bar with both glasses of liquor in each hand.

“I’m professionally what you’d call a courtesan, handsome.” You purr as you face him.

You take one of the shots from his hand and shoot it down, setting the shot glass open side down on the surface of the bar.

“Courtzan huh? You looking for work? I know a place that’s looking for pretty girls. What do they call ya?”

“Gracelyn. I mostly work alone, cowboy.” You lie as you play with his gator tooth necklace.

Dewey’s grin stretched from ear to ear, “Oh yeah?”

You nod, then took a quick glance over his shoulder.

“But today, I have someone I work with for special occasions.” You flirtatiously admit.

Dewey couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Yeah?? What’s her name? Maybe she could join us.” He insisted.

“Gutterson. Deputy Tim Gutterson.” You whisper to him as you show him your badge.

Dewey’s eyes widened with panic. He turned to make a break for it and ran right into Tim.

“Hey, what’s the rush, Dewey? Have a seat.” Tim said as he pushed him down onto the barstool.

Dewey looked over at you resentfully.

“When in the hell did you get this one?” He asked irritably.

“She’s a few days old.” Tim replied.

Dewey shook his head, “Well, ya got me good. What ya’ll want with me? I ain’t done nothin’.”

“That’s the problem, Dewey, you ain’t done nothin’. We’ve scheduled a few meetings with you to exchange information and you stood us up.” You explain.

“Well, I’ve been a little busy.” He retorted sarcastically as he crossed his arms.

“You’ve been MIA for a month now, buddy. No texts, no call backs, you ain’t been at your place. Didn’t even write. We missed ya.” Tim proclaimed mockingly.

“Raylan’s been dying to see you.” You added.

Dewey looked at you alarmed.

“No! Don’t take me to Givens!”

“Should’ve thought about that before you ghosted us.” Tim finalized as he grabbed Dewey’s arm to stand him up.

Dewey ducked and whirled away from him pulling out his Baby Browning .25 pistol alternating his aim between you and Tim.

Tim had already pulled his Glock and was locked onto Dewey. You only raised both hands to show you had no intentions of pulling your gun on him.

“Drop it!” Tim barked.

“You really wanna do this, cowboy?” You ask earnestly.

“I didn’t do nothin’ bad! Raylan’s gonna wallop me!” Dewey bellowed.

“You got that right.” Tim confirmed.

“I ain’t goin’!” Dewey yelled.

“Ok, ok, how about this,” you began, “I’ll be your point of contact from now on. We bring you in, and I question you. Only thing I require is a male deputy will have to be present at all times which could either be Givens, Gutterson, or the chief. But I’m going to be the lead for everything for you. Ok? Can we work with that?” You compromised.

Dewey’s eyes darted between you and Tim.

“I don’t know. How do I know I can trust you?”

“Well, you can’t know. But it’s better than the alternative.” You gesture with your head towards Tim who’s still zeroed in and ready to fire.

Dewey paused for a good minute or two.

“What do ya say, cowboy? Wanna be friends again?” You present.

Dewey slowly lowered his weapon.

“Just toss that little guy on the floor and kick it over here.” You instruct him tenderly.

Dewey complied.

Tim rushed Dewey then forced his arm behind his back.

“Ow, OW!” Dewey cried as Tim slammed cuffs down onto one of his wrists.

“Put your other hand behind your back.” Tim directed.

Tim was pissed.

“You said you were taking the lead!” Dewey whined looking at you.

“It starts when we get to the office.” You clarified.

Tim fisted the back of Dewey’s shirt and roughly guided him out the door. A backup squad had been waiting to transport Dewey to the courthouse.

“Make sure you release this man to Deputy Marshal Rachel Brooks.” You instruct to the police officer that Dewey was getting handed off to.

“Yes ma’am.”

Tim looked at you perplexed.

“What the hell are you doin’?”

You look at him, “What?”

“You can’t just take over C.I.’s.” Tim stated.

“Well, it was better to make promises I can’t keep than having you shoot him. Not very bright, is he?”

Tim scoffed, “Not at all.”

~~~~~~~

Back at the office with Dewey in temporary hold overnight after you’ve successfully questioned him, you sat at your desk completing the paperwork for the event that took place earlier.

“Y/F/N, what’s this about you being Dewey Crowe’s point of contact?” Your Uncle Art asked from the threshold of his office with his arms crossed.

“Chief, it was either feed the guy a white lie or let Gutterson drop him like a bag of dirt.” You justified.

Art looked at you then at Tim skeptically.

“Well, congratulations. You now have to work with Raylan whenever it comes to dealing with Dewey. We legally can’t make those changes without court order and documentation so now you’ve been added to the case to cover our asses. Don’t be doin’ that again.”

“Yes, sir.” You concur.

“Told ya.” Tim muttered from his desk.

You roll your eyes at him, “Whatever, Tim. It was better than killin’ him.”

“She ain’t wrong.” Raylan pointed out, “Art knows it, too.”

Tim smirked and shook his head. You continued typing away on the computer.

“What are you doin’ tonight?” Tim asked you.

“I’m staying in tonight. I’m exhausted.”

“I see. What should I bring for movie night?” Tim replied.

Rachel and Raylan looked over at you and Tim, intrigued by Tim’s response.

You look at Tim, “What should you bring? I don’t recall inviting you over.”

Tim laughed, “You didn’t, but the day went so well I figured I’d treat you to some take out.”

You’re rendered speechless as you gawk at him in disbelief.

“I can be there around 8…or 7?” He added.

You heard Rachel giggle from her desk. You shot her a stern look.

“Are you enjoying yourselves over there?” You ask Raylan and Rachel each leaning in to hear your conversation with Tim.

They looked back at their paperwork on each of their desks. You look back to Tim who was waiting patiently for your answer.

“You’re serious?” You press.

“Yeah! Whatchya want me to bring?”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him.

“Ugh ok, grab a pizza and some beer.”

Tim clapped his hands enthusiastically.

“Got it.”

~~~~~~~

As soon as you got home you scurried around your apartment to straighten up. You still had boxes all over from unpacking. You weren’t prepared to have any a guest over even if it was Tim. You light a few scented candles because you know how he feels about them.

You hear your doorbell sound off around 7:20p.m. You look in the peep hole and saw it was him, so you open the door for him.

“Good evening, ma’am, I got the essentials.” He held up a 24 pack of beers and a 18 inch pizza.

“Come on in.” You greet stepping aside to allow him in.

He went straight to your couch and sat down, setting the pizza on the coffee table. He opened the pack of beer and helped himself to a bottle while you grabbed some plates and paper towels.

“What do you want to watch?” You asked him.

“Whatchya got?” He replied.

You hummed as you squat in front of your little shelf of DVD’s.

“Lethal Weapon?” You suggest.

Tim grinned at you, “You still know me so well.”

You remove the disc and put it into the DVD player. You grab the remote and drop onto the couch next to Tim. You press play, then take a slice of pizza from the box.

“Nice place.” Tim complimented.

“Not bad, right?”

“Will I be getting the grand tour later?”

“Yeah, the bathroom is down the hall. That’s all you need to see.” You reply with a smile.

Tim laughed as he grabbed another beer, tapering the cap off and handing it to you.

~~~~~~~

As 11:00 starts to creep around, you and Tim had already drank all the beer and you had started Lethal Weapon 2 when Tim suggested a drinking game when you moved onto shots of straight whiskey. By Lethal Weapon 3 you were both pretty tanked.

Tim had you in tears with laughter telling you stories about his crazy experiences as a Marshal and the hard times he gives your Uncle Art, Raylan, and Rachel.

“Yeah, your uncle is convinced I’m a ticking time bomb.” He scoffed.

You take a deep breath, “No he doesn’t.”

“He does. Raylan told me he asked him if he should be worried about me.” Tim stated.

“Oh yeah?”

Tim nodded.

“Well, is there a reason he would have to ask?” You prod.

“Probably because I have a dark sense of humor and drink too much on my days off.” Tim guessed.

You nod, “Well, you have been through a lot of shit, well, your whole life.”

You remembered that Tim and his dad having had many squabbles that ended up in violent tussles. And who knows what he saw when he deployed to Afghanistan. The man has seen enough horrors to last three lifetimes.

Tim looked at you, “You think I’m something to worry about?”

You met his dazzling blue eyes, “Never.”

Tim’s eyes dropped to your lips, then looked back to your eyes with adoration behind his. Before you could gasp, Tim swooped in, kissing you hungrily as his hands tangled in your hair. You fist the front of his shirt as you pull yourself so close to him, you’re almost in his lap.

Your tongue entangled with his, neither of you cared to even catch your breath as you greedily make out in that living room. Tim pulled back and removed his shirt, tossing it behind him. You crawl onto him, guiding him backward onto his back while you begin to unfasten his belt buckle.

“Reminds me of the time under the bleachers at the homecoming game.” Tim muttered with a huge grin stretching across his face.

You smile devilishly, “This will be so much better.”

You yanked his pants off and straddle him, situating yourself right on the bulge in his briefs. Tim’s hands grasped your hips and guided your snake-like movements harder against his hard on. You sensually started grinding down on him and had him groaning and grunting as he pushed his hips upward against your core. The hot friction between your legs as Tim met your motions had you soaked through your panties.

You wrench off your top, and sat upon him in your bra and shorts. Tim sat up reaching around you to unhook the bra, allowing the garment slinked off your front, as he trailed kisses from your collar bone over the valleys of your chest then started to nip and lick as he approached your hardened nipples.

He groped one of your breasts, and slowly swirled his tongue around the mound before gently biting and sucking the sensitive peaks. As he repeated this to your opposite side, you instinctively grind onto him hoping to feel some relief from the friction of his dick. You whine when he stops.

“Don’t stop, Tim.”

A mischievous smirk appears on his face, “You want more?” He teased.

You feverishly lock your mouth onto his as you pull on his thick hair. He lifted you up from under your thighs and carried you through the hall where he assumed your bedroom was.

He guided your body down onto your bed as he hovered over you to kiss you. His hands danced down to your waist, find his way to your clothed core and slowly caressed circles over the panties right on your clit.

He watched you writhe and squirm under his touch, causing an almost purple hue to appear on the head of his dick from how hard he was getting. He pulled your panties aside and ran his perfect fingers up and down your slippery folds. The man was edging you, and you were enjoying every second of it…and so was he.

You grabbed the wrist of the hand fondling you.

“Tim, I need to feel you.” You whimper pathetically.

Tim’s eyes widened while the blue of his eyes began to glow. He took your panties and tore through it like paper to get them off you. He stood up and hastily removed his briefs immediately returning to you kneeling between your legs.

He palmed his throbbing member, lining himself up with your soaked entrance. He coated his dick with your wetness before pushing forward deliciously slow until he bottomed out.

You both released a satisfied sigh. Tim embraced you, pressing his chest flush against yours as he started to methodically thrust into you. Your moans in his ear spur him on and starts to pick up his pace.

“You feel like home.” He whispered into your ear.

“I am home.” You purr back.

~~~~~~~

Tim rocked your world that night. It wasn’t how you expected the evening to end, but you weren’t complaining. It was a long time coming and you’re actually shocked it hadn’t happened sooner.

He never slept well since returning from Afghanistan, so he spent most of the night holding you under the covers and watching you sleep peacefully. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before finally passing out around 4 am, getting the best sleep he’s had since he came to Kentucky.

~~~~~~~

[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.

[beebobeebo]

Title: Don't Feed Your Cat Mac and Cheese

Fandom: Justified

Pairing: Raylan x Tim (Givenson)

Characters: Raylan Givens & Tim Gutterson

Summary:

The kitten is now a cat.

The light gets in your eye.

Two ideas get stuck together.

Inspired by @boyd-clowder (who I should make some actual Boyd content for) and a tweet about girls and pasta. Images at end.

Raylan stares at the cat who matches him blink for blink. The creature has taken to lurking and offering a yowl at breaks in conversation.

"He's not a kitten anymore."

"You figured out the passage of time? I'll alert the Sorbonne." Tim pats idly at the roughly twenty pounds of cat curled up on his chest. He's effectively penned to the couch and not in the least bit troubled.

Raylan snorts. "Yeah, yeah. It's just it seems like a week ago he was nothin' more than a popcorn fart."

Tim raises up just enough to look over Ox, the feline formerly known as Oxy-kitten. "Popcorn…I would ask, but I don't want to know." His head lolls back. "I'm going to nap while I've got you to watch the door and Ox to watch you."

"You don't nap," Raylan says, but the only responses are a yowl and a rude gesture.

Hours later, Raylan starts awake in the chair in which he'd posted himself. Tim has disappeared from the couch leaving only the menacing scowl (?) of Ox in the dark. "Where's your-"

Tim is standing in the kitchen, his head tilted ever so slightly as he stirs a pot on the stove. The crummy, yellow bulb over the range is for damned sure working some kind of magic beyond its measly forty watts. There's a warm glow behind the man's face. It filters through his hair in a halo that brings out the last tinge of gold in his darkening curls. The cut of his jaw, the slope of his throat, and the line of his brow are sharpened in the dim backlight. You can see his goddamn eyelashes.

"Hey," Raylan says as he stands. "You… you look…" You look like a goddamn angel when a couple of hours ago you looked like a little shit.

"While you're workin' on that remark, do you want some blue box?"

"Some what?" Raylan feels the moment slipping away. Tim fades back into his normal self.

"Macaroni and cheese?" Tim tilts the pot so that Raylan can see the nuclear yellow contents. "You okay over there?" he asks as he goes to spoon a helping into Ox's bowl.

"Yeah, yeah." Raylan wipes a hand down his face. "I'm good. I'll take whatever you're offerin'."

Jesus Christ.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Bourbon Makes Everything Better

Raylan Givens x Reader

Words: 867

Summary: A long day for both of you ends with a quiet moment and a good drink. 

Notes: I wanted to do something short and sweet for Raylan because this man has taken over my life. I also started this after a really draining day, so I kind of needed a peaceful moment with my Kentucky man. Enjoy a little Timothy Olyphant drabble! 

More Raylan Imagines HERE

-

You were starting to wish you’d just driven together that morning. Even if it meant having to wait for him to finish all of his paperwork, at least you wouldn’t be sitting on the back porch alone, nursing a cheap beer and thoughts of the day. 

The assignment was supposed to be short. It was supposed to be simple. It turned out to be anything but. 

Turns out the inmate you and your partner were transporting had some buddies waiting for him on the outside. What ensued was you almost getting your brains blown out, Raylan having to shoot three people, including the inmate you were supposed to move. The only reason you weren’t at the office was because Art decided to saddle the one who didn’t get manhandled with the most paperwork for the night. 

But you were fine, really. 

Physically, anyway. 

The exhaustion ached in every limb. Your head swam with the feeling of a gun against your temple and the shooting pain up your arm when the bastard threw you against a dumpster. It wasn’t anything new, of course. You’d been knocked down before. You’d be knocked down again. 

And, you knew, you’d be this tired again, too. 

Inside, the kitchen light turned on, a cabinet opened, and the light turned off again. 

The back door swung open. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Raylan teased. Judging by the look in his eyes and the bottle in his hand, he was faring about as well as you. He kissed the top of your head. “How’s your arm?”

“Just a little sore, that’s all,” you said, reaching up to bring his lips to yours as proof. “Is Art pissed?” 

He shook his head. “Not at us anyway.”

“Think they’ll sniff around on account of… well, you know?” 

Raylan took the seat beside you, poured you both a glass of bourbon and laced his fingers through yours, shrugging. 

“AUSA shouldn’t know anything about it, so long as everyone in the office kept their mouth shut.” He chuckled, shaking his head again, “But the odds of that seem pretty slim, don’t they?” 

“It was a clean shooting,” you said. “Those sonsofbitches were going to do anything they had to.” 

“Plus, I saved your life,” he smirked. 

“Right. My knight in shining Stetson.” 

Raylan’s expression changed and it didn’t take words to know what he was thinking. What if he hadn’t been fast enough? What if that thug pulled the trigger first? What if, instead of sitting here, he was cleaning your brains out of his suit jacket. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder, taking in the quiet of the night. “Let’s not worry about it now,” you whispered. 

He didn’t say anything, just took a drink. You did the same. 

 Crickets sang through the night,  that sharp noise the only sound for what seemed like hours. The longer the two of you sat in that immense silence, the heavier your entire body felt, like you were being pulled down by a force stronger than gravity. It was like being underwater and allowing yourself to drown. 

You weren’t sure when the tears started. You were too numb to feel them. It wasn’t until you felt Raylan’s thumb brush them away that you realized you’d started crying. 

“Come here,” he said softly, urging you into his lap. You laid your head between his neck and collarbone, enveloped by his arms. 

You weren’t scared of them. Those hillbilly prisoners didn’t have that kind of hold on you. You’d faced worse and come out the other side before. It was the deep exhaustion you were afraid of. The kind of tired that seeped to the bone like a particularly nasty rain storm. The kind that made you want to stop trying. 

“I’m tired of being this damn tired,” you said against Raylan’s shirt. 

“I know,” he sighed. “I am too.” 

“But there’s nothing we can do about it, is there?” You pulled back, looking into golden eyes filled with the same tired frustration, but also, what you needed most- love.

“No,” he said. “There isn’t.” Raylan kissed your lips, slow and soft. “But that doesn’t mean we stop tryin’.” 

You wiped the rest of your tears with the back of your hand and downed the rest of your drink, letting the sweet burn cool your nerves. Raylan stood up, placing you on your feet in front of him. 

“Let’s not waste good bourbon on sitting here feeling sorry,” he said, holding out his hand. 

Your head tilted curiously. “But we don’t have any music.”

Raylan pulled you to him, one hand on your waist and the other holding yours up. “When has that ever stopped us before? Now come on.” He gave you a smile that reached those perfect eyes. “We’ll dance until we’re too tired. Then we can go inside and try something else.” 

You laughed, tucking your head under his chin as the two of you started to sway. 

“You’re lucky this is good bourbon, otherwise I’d be kicking you to the curb.” 

“Well gee, I love you too.” 

And so the two of you danced, slowly in the quiet night, before pouring another drink and heading off to bed.

[fangirleaconmigo]

Finished S5 of Justified and Raylan’s behavior with Boyd is just so unnecessarily dramatic. Like he’s a one man high school production of whatever the shit he’s got going on.

I mean. Whenever Raylan needs intel on the criminal element, he *could* just ASK Boyd for it. We all know that. He knows it. I know it. You know it.

He could literally fuckin walk into that godforsaken bar/site of more executions than I can count, and he could say:

Hey Boyd. There’s a kid in trouble. OR he could say Boyd, I’m in trouble. OR Boyd, I need your assistance.

And GUESS WHAT BOYD WOULD DO

He would flash his pearly whites. He would do his narrow hipped vest wearing gay little swagger. He would sit down next to him and something like

well, Raylan Givens, I do declare, like the philosophers say, it is my pleasure to assist the golden son of Harlan blahdeeblahblah. He would serve him some whiskey and scoot in close and he would help!! Because they dug coal together!!

Boyd is a criminal far beyond anything Raylan has ever contemplated. However, Boyd’s hometown, his community, and his former partner in coal extraction, MATTER to him. We all know that. Raylan knows that. All these people Raylan wants intel on are outsiders and as far as Boyd is concerned, fuck outsiders.

There’s a hierarchy of loyalty and Raylan, lawman though he is, is Harlan. Raylan is HIS. So his loyalty will be there first, fuck the US Marshall service this is Raylan Givens.

We. All. Know. This.

But can Raylan just be a normal goddamned person and ask for information?

Noooooooooo no of course Raylan Givens has to swagger in with his little hat cocked, his gun out, his dick loaded, and start threatening Boyd, punching his bar staff, giving him ultimatums and threats to “force” Boyd to give him intel he woulda given him if simply asked.

Why does he do that?

Because Raylan is HYPER AWARE of the fact that he treads that line between outlaw and lawman but he NEEDS that distinction between him and Boyd. He NEEDS it or he (in his mind) becomes his daddy or he becomes Boyd.

So he has to put on this big production every time. He has to go through these motions of harassing Boyd for no reason.

Because GOD FORBID he admit they have a bond. GOD FORBID he admit they could be friends in another life. Hell he could *be* Boyd in another life. GOD FORBID he admit that his obsession with Boyd outstrips every passion he has experienced in his romantic relationships. GOD FORBID he notice that he is prioritizing his obsession with Boyd over his own child.

He cannot cope with any of that! If he acts like a normal person with Boyd, it all comes tumbling down.

So he just goes through the motions and acts out his little high school production of a John Wayne movie every damn time. It’s this whole rigamarole he drags his colleagues along to witness and I’m embarrassed for him!

Raylan! Get your shit together! Get in therapy! (No, don’t. This is way more entertaining.)