#raylan givens the man you are

[meep-meep-richie]

that's a love confession right there

[mudkipper]

The old man yaoi yearn for the mines

[leona-florianova]

Hey... More Justified sketches...

[lolligaggin]

[bleedingcoffee42]

Dick's Letters to DeEtta , OCS era.

From Hang Tough

[marshal-raylan-givens]

@itookyoudown

JUSTIFIED 2.11

[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.”

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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."

[pastlivesandpurplepuppets]

It was the way he was raised, to have good manners. Though a situation one time in particular had set it in his mind as something more than etiquette, back when they were living in a coal camp and the miners struck Duke Power: Raylan walking a picket line most of the year, his dad in the house dying of black lung, and company gun thugs came looking for Raylan’s uncle, his mom’s younger brother, living with them at the time. They came across the street, five of them, a couple with pick handles, and up the walk to where his mother stood on the porch. He remembered she was having trouble with her teeth and they ached her that day. The gun thugs said they wanted to speak to her brother the agitator, set his thinking cap on straight for him. She told them he wasn’t home. They said they intended to look in the house, and if she didn’t move out of the way they would help her. Raylan came out the screen door to stand with his mother and remembered her eyes, the way she looked at him like she’d given up hope. Though it was not in her voice when she told them, “You don’t walk in a person’s home ‘less you’re invited. Even you people must believe that. You have homes, don’t you? Wives and mothers keeping house? This is our home and I’m not inviting you in.” They shoved her aside and hit Raylan with the pick handles to put him down; they went through the house and out the back, empty-handed.

Her words hadn’t stopped them. No, what they did was stick in Raylan’s mind— her words, her quiet tone of voice—and stop him, more than twenty years later, from breaking into this man’s house.

~ Elmore Leonard, 'Riding The Rap'

[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

*Last update Jan 7/2025

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 , Fifteen , Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen <-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

[sirxlla]

Drunk Text Me

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Mostly Angst, some Fluff, Throwing up.

Prompt: Raylan cheated but miss him and really want him back. ( Idea from this song -> drunk text me )

Notes: italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Your best friend sent you a picture of Raylan smiling and chatting up a bartender at the local bar which caused your face to drop. "He said he was distraught" "I cant believe it" "He's gotta be drunk." "I miss him." "I shouldn't." "Please text me, Ray." So many thoughts and needs went through your head as well as those feelings. He'd cheated, you know that but nothing stopped you from wanting him. You wanted his sleepless nights, his early morning, from the sound of his boots hitting the wood floor as he took them off to his cowboy hat on it's rightful spot near your bedpost. Just overall all you wanted was him.

Raylan had went back to Winona for a night or two after he promised he was done with her, you knew his type that everyone warned you about when you met him...that "Cowboy Casanova" shit. Those chocolate brown eyes just pulled you in, you were done for as soon as he but only glanced in your direction.

You were moreso mad at yourself for thingking he'd be any different then the stories you were told. Every woman knew the stories of Raylan Givens and how much of a womanizer he could be but it never stopped any of them from falling into that trap.

Goddamn it, Winona was a pain in the ass. She just wanted a knight in shining armor whenever she did something stupid and fucker herself over on purpose. Raylan was always ready to put on his damn cape and go save her, it was always so exhausting and you always felt like an afterthought on days like that.

You understand that the both of them were married and he still loved her in a way but it's still stung every single time.

Whilst you were with Raylan you had swallowed the bitterness and resentment you had for her down like stomach acid that had came up but you had nowhere to spit it. "Thats his child's mother, I have to be nice." You'd repeat that to yourself over and over again and you made it a point to never talk shit about her in front of their kid.

Well, nice went out the fuckin window when you found out he cheated. Winona had knowingly pulled him back in knowing he was with you.

'Somehow and someway' her entire vehicle was spray painted and so was her house. Nothing was broken, just spray painted and a few eggs were thrown and some toilet paper, harmless shit.

Of course he wasn't an idiot, Raylan knew it was you or your friends. Naturally, he was pissed maybe it was more so out of the concern for his kid or overly concern for his ex-wife, you couldn't tell.... The only thing that you were certain of is that both of you were pissed.

As soon as you saw that picture, you were reminded of the man you love all of got anger and resentment went out the window...All you wanted from him now was a text, maybe a "I fucked this up, I dont know why I did it. She isnt you you. I love you, not her." or something similar.

You'd still pick the phone up the second he called. It didnt matter that it feels like he'd shot in the chest by cheating or the way your heart bleeds whenever you think of him.

Alcohol was a bad coping mechanism but you and him clearly were using it tonight. You opened the bottle of bourbon you had over here for him, holding it by the neck; Taking those big swigs as you to try to forget the fact that the last time you tasted this was in his mouth.

Sobs filled the air as you laid on the ground and got drunker by the moment, a bit of time passed and you blacked out.

You woke up just as drunk, if not moreso. You were about to take another drink when you heard a voice through the speaker of your phone and he was definitely holding his liquor better than you.

"Darlin'? You still there? You okay?" Raylan asked before mumbling out more apologies. Of course you didn't know what to say cause you'd didnt even know you called him.

"I'm coming over." He said cause he was concerned by the lack of response from you. He didnt want you getting alcohol poisoning and he knew you were pretty sloshed, that bourbon wasnt anything soft.

"Nooooo, 'mmmm fi...." You slurred out but before he even fully heard you he had hung up and planned on making his way over there.

"Shit, the bartender has my keys." "Fuck it, I'll walk." Raylan had thought to himself, So thats what the sorry drunk dumbass did, he regretted cheating on you and he didnt wanna leave after he cheated but he felt unworthy and didnt wanna keep pulling you through the ringer.

He knew Winona always had an angle or favor she needed when she called. He was played for a fool time and time again, same cards hoping for a different outcome.

By the time he got to your apartment it was clear he scuffed his face on something but of course to Raylan a scratch on his face was nothing but a pinch ftom a piss-ant.

He opened your door with his key and immediately went to drag you to the shower to wake you up since you were in a bad way. The cold water hit your body and you jolted awaked as the temperture difference caused a shock to the system.

Immediately you got up out of the tub and just vomit as you sat up and perched your hands against that toilet bowl and you groan in pain and disgust. The taste of bourbon was entirely different coming up; Of course Raylan would probably know that well.

"Damn, Darlin', that bottle was full when I was here last. You drank nearly the whole thing. Youre lucky you're not headin' to the E.R. What the hell were you thinking?" He was pissed but mostly concerned as the woman he left was puking her guts out into the toilet.

"Go ahead and laugh, I'm pathetic." You felt so shitty and the alcohol just made you feel shitter.

"Why would I laugh? It seems you and I were doing the same thing." Raylan's hands massaged the back of your neck and made sure you wouldnt puke on your hair.

"You were flirting with....the...the bartender." You sounded hurt and drunk considering the slightly slurred speech.

"No, she called me an idiot cause she knows you and me were together. She called me an idiot for breaking up with you and I agreed, Sweetheart."

"I miss you so much but youre such an asshole." You sniffled as you lifted your head from the toilet.

"I can't disagree with you there." Of course you felt like you look like shit but to him you look like the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. The regret grew in his chest as he asks himself why he would ever do that to you, Saying no to Winona felt impossible but he needed to put on his big boy pants cause he was hurting himself and hurting you.

You washed your mouth out with mouthwash to get rid of the taste of bourbon filled vomit before standing up slowly. His hands found your hips to make sure you didnt fall again, he guides you to your bedroom and go you laid down. As soon as you noticed he was about to leave you spoke...

"Stop doing that self-pity bullshit... you're not walking to some shitty hotel or something, you're going to stay here with me where I know you won't get hit by a fucking car or something." You spoke with a seriousness in your voice, you were sincere and straight-faced. You weren't going to let him walk out that door, of course he wasn't even remotely as inebriated as you were but you weren't going to take the chance.

Every single time he walked out of that door, every single day...every call you answered with excitement and worry. You weren't going to let him take any other stupid chances to add on top of that already high probability of something bad happening.

Normally that's not a tone you would take with him, therefore, knew you were absolutely and positively serious. He kicked off his boots with that familiar sound of them clunking against your wood floor and that hat found his rightful place next to your bedpost.

Hopefully tomorrow you two could talk everything out and those boots and that hat would always be in their normal places again.

Masterlist

(Send me prompts if you'd like)

[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

[fandom-imagines-stories]

From Here on Out

Raylan Givens x Reader

Words: 3750

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Things finally come to a head as the reader turns to an unlikely source to take down Chamberlain. Raylan opposes Art’s new plan. 

Notes: I have had so much fun writing this trilogy. Raylan is such an interesting character to work with and I’ve had a blast. Let me know what you think, as always! 

Other Raylan imagines and more: HERE 

Warnings: Mentions of trafficking, violence, etc.

-

You could have used a shot of good bourbon, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, you were in enough trouble as it is, and adding alcohol to the mix was probably not the best idea. Even if you made it out of this alive, your husband was going to lock you in your bedroom and never let you leave again. Not that you didn’t deserve it, at least a little bit, for the hell you’d put him through in the past few days. 

But that was only if this worked. 

You took a deep breath and opened the car door. 

They stood at the end of the street. Silent and waiting. 

“Raylan, I love you,” you whispered and started walking. “Evenin’ boys.” 

“Mrs. Givens,” Derek greeted. “Long time, no see, huh?” 

The image of him aiming a gun at you while you laid in bed flashed through your mind like the light of his cigarette. You crinkled your nose and smirked. 

“Cute.” You threw the file to the ground in front of him. “There. That's all I could find at the Marshal’s office. I guess you guys aren’t as popular as you thought you were.” 

Derek crouched down, flipping through the file with a satisfied smile. “I thought your husband said we didn’t have a file at all,” he tsked. “I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

“I’m sure with you holding a gun to his head and all, it probably just slipped his mind,” you returned his cockiness with a tight smile. “Happens to the best of us, right?” 

Derek nodded at the man next to him and handed him the file. 

“You know that me giving that to you doesn’t let you off the hook?” You snarked. “That only works in the movies.” 

Derek chuckled, taking a step toward you. “We just like to know what we’re up against. That’s all.” 

“Always a step ahead. I imagine that’s useful for a sex trafficker.” As much as you tried, you couldn’t hide the disgust in your voice. 

“That brings us to the other matter we discussed,” he said. “The replacement girl.” 

Your breathing hitched, heart leaping into your throat. 

This was it. 

You held your arms out to the side, shrugging your shoulders. 

“You’re looking at her, Chamberlain.” 

His Cheshire cat grin made you shudder. “I was hoping you’d say that.” 

-

Two Days Earlier

Somewhere out there, you could feel your good, southern mama scolding you for not playing a better hostess and offering these people something to drink. Footsteps scuffled all around as Raylan and the others tried to figure out how Derek Chamberlain had gotten into your house in the middle of the night without making a sound. You focused elsewhere, hands gripping the kitchen counter as the coffee brewed. 

The sharp, warming smell filled the room. You watched it drip into the glass pot, letting it hypnotize you so you didn’t have to think about what was going on. 

He was in your house. 

He held a gun at Raylan’s forehead.

He smiled at you like he’d already won. 

Maybe he had. 

“Mrs. Givens?” Rachel stood in the doorway, brows knitted with concern. “Are you okay?” 

You blinked out of your trance and put on a smile. “Do you want some coffee? I made some for all of you. Thank you again for coming out. Raylan wanted to deal with it himself, but I made him call Art so we could get this figured out.”

“It’s no problem,” she said, taking a cautious step towards you. “We want to make sure you both are safe.” 

“I think it’s a little late for that, thanks to me.” You turned away and busied yourself with pouring more mugs of coffee than you needed. 

Rachel took one with a small smile. She wanted to tell you that it wasn’t your fault. That everything was going to be fine. But she knew it wasn’t her place, nor would it help ease your clearly growing panic. So she just took the coffee and for now, that was enough for you. 

You took a cup of your own and grabbed another for your husband who was storming back inside with Art and Tim behind him. 

“If I see that sonofabitch, I’m gonna kill him,” Raylan growled. 

Art sighed. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” 

“I made coffee.” 

Tim took a cup with a thankful nod. Art kept glancing at you with a mix of remorse and concern. Raylan looked anywhere but you and you pretended that it didn’t hurt. 

“Well,” Art blew out a breath, “I’m gonna have someone sit on the house at all hours and we will track down Chamberlain. If he sneezes, we’ll know about it.”

“I appreciate that, Chief Deputy Mullen,” you said, “but I only called you guys here to keep Raylan from hunting this guy down. I don’t think any further involvement with the Marshals is wise.”

“That ship has sailed, sweetheart,” Raylan scoffed, still not looking at you. 

“Says the one who wanted to turn John Wayne not half an hour ago,” you snapped back. 

Art held up his hands. “Alright, listen, both of you. I’m only gonna say this once.” He watched both of you closely. “Both of you need to get your heads out of your asses. You,” he looked at Raylan, “are not going to lone gunman this and make it out alive. And you,” he turned to you, “need to stop thinking you can handle this on your own because it has been proven that you can’t. Now I am going to have someone sit outside this house and you two are going to stay here until I can figure out what the hell to do next!” 

The chief deputy huffed out of the room, taking Tim with him. Rachel cast you one last glance before following. 

“I see why you like him so much.” You put your coffee down and ran a hand down your face. 

Raylan didn’t say another word and went upstairs. 

You wanted to throw something. You wanted to watch the ceramic pieces of every mug shatter against the tile. But that wasn’t going to help anybody. 

Instead, you took out your cell phone, checked to make sure Raylan wasn’t coming back down, and hit a name in your contacts you never thought you’d speak to again. 

Ava Crowder.

-

A car had followed you. Whether it was your marshal guard or someone from the Chamberlains you couldn’t tell, but either way, you were gonna be in a world of hurt when- or if- you made it back home. 

You downed the bourbon with a single gulp. 

Ava poured you another. 

“I take it your husband doesn’t know you’re here, hm?” 

“What do you think?” 

She shrugged with a smirk. “Alright.” Ava sat down across from you. “What brings you here, then?” 

Luckily, Johnny’s bar was empty this time of day, so you didn’t have to worry about anyone overhearing. But the possibility of the bar’s real owner returning made you a touch uncomfortable, so you figured you’d get straight to the point. 

“What do you know about the Chamberlain family trafficking ring?”

She raised a brow. “What makes you think I know anything?” 

“Because I know what circles you run in. I just want to know if Derek Chamberlain is in any of them.” 

“The name rings a bell, but I don’t think I’m the one you want to talk to.” 

The door to the backroom swung open. 

You stood up. 

“Mrs. Givens,” Boyd smiled. “This is a pleasant surprise.” 

You swallowed. “Boyd.”

“Baby, she wants to know about Derek Chamberlain,” Ava said, pouring him a drink. 

Boyd took a seat and motioned to your chair. “Please.” 

You sat back down.

He took a drink. 

“Now, from what I hear, the Chamberlains are a nasty bunch.” Boyd narrowed his eyes at you. “What business could a sweet and innocent marshal’s wife, like yourself, possibly have with a man like Derek?” 

“He took a friend of mine’s daughter.” You picked up your glass and watched the contents swirl around. “Then he killed that friend of mine.” 

“Well now, that sounds very serious. I’m sorry for your loss,” Boyd sighed. He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. “Seeing as we’ve known each other a long while now, Mrs. Givens, I would be more than happy to step in as a favor to you.”

As appealing as the thought of having Derek Chamberlain wiped from this earth was, you shook your head. 

“I just came to get some information. That’s all.” 

His lip quirked up in another smile. “I would still consider that a favor. One I may or may not ask to be returned at some point.” 

You leaned forward, holding his gaze. “If I wasn’t desperate, do you think I’d be here?” 

A spark lit in his eyes and you forced your regret to be a later issue. Boyd leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head while a cunning smile spread across his face. 

“Well, then, Y/N, what exactly do you need to know?” 

The door to the bar burst open before you got the chance to speak. You didn’t have to turn around to see who it was, thanks to the self-satisfied smirk on Boyd’s face. 

“Raylan,” he exclaimed. “Now it really is a party.” 

Your stomach sank. 

You were so, so dead. 

“This your idea?” Raylan growled. “Dragging her out here when I’m sure you’ve heard all about the trouble she’s dug up?”

Boyd held up his hands innocently. “I came home to find her gracing my bar with her presence, a total, but welcome, surprise.” 

“I called Ava,” you said. 

“I was thinking we could maybe go on a double date after all this,” Boyd mocked. “Doesn’t that sound fun?” 

“Believe it or not, I am nowhere near the neighborhood of being in the mood to deal with you today.” Raylan’s hand locked on your arm, pulling you up out of the chair. “We’re leaving.” 

“I couldn’t just sit in the house and do nothing,” you whispered angrily. 

His eyes flashed to yours, fuming. You didn’t say anything else. 

“Y/N, honey, you call if you need anything else, okay?” Ava said, actually sounding genuine. 

Raylan started to lead you out of the bar when Boyd called after you. 

“Alright, wait! Raylan, wait.” Boyd rolled his eyes at himself and hurried to catch you at the door. His smarminess had faded, replaced by something resembling real. “Chamberlain has a notebook where he keeps everything. Abduction plans, times of moves, locations of the girls, the works. You ask me, I think it’s pretty stupid to have everything in one place, but he always has it on his person. Always.” 

Plans started clicking in your head. You gave him a nod. 

“Thank you, Boyd.” 

His sly grin returned. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.” 

Raylan pulled you outside. The sunlight stung your eyes compared to the neon of the bar. You squinted at your husband’s furious face. It was an expression you were growing increasingly familiar with. 

“Raylan-”

“Don’t,” he snapped. “Don’t say a goddamn thing.” He let go of your arm. “Just get in the car.” 

You opened your mouth. He cut you off. 

“Get. In. The. Car.” 

You got in the car. 

-

Art was waiting when you got home, sitting on your front porch with a look of frustration that almost matched your husband’s. 

Raylan hadn’t said a word the entire drive. It was suffocating. 

“Art, long time no see,” you greeted snarkily. 

“I take it you’re responsible for this little field trip then?” You were right. He was pissed. “What the hell did I just tell you, Raylan? All you had to do was stay in the damn house.” 

“Raylan was just coming to get me,” you defended. 

But your husband pushed past you both without a word, slamming the door behind him. 

Now was probably a bad time to mention that your car was still at the bar. 

“What was so important that you had to leave?” Art asked, ignoring his brooding agent. 

You swallowed. “Boyd Crowder had some valuable information.” 

Art froze. 

He blinked. 

He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “You Givens’ are going to be the death of me.” 

The two of you followed your husband inside. Raylan had already poured the drinks. His eyes bore into yours as he downed his bourbon in one gulp. 

“Art,” you took a deep breath, “I think I need a moment alone with my husband.” 

“If it means figuring this shit out, then by all means,” he huffed, going back out onto the porch with his drink. 

You kept your voice as calm as you could. “I went to see Ava. Boyd happened to be there.” 

He didn’t say anything, just kept… staring. 

“That detail about the notebook could mean everything,” you said. “I mean, if we get our hands on that, we not only take out Chamberlain, but we can find and help the rest of those girls.”

Raylan remained silent. 

Your hands started to shake. 

“I couldn’t stay in the house, Raylan.” 

Nothing.

Something inside you broke. Your lip trembled. Your eyes watered. You tried blinking away the tears. 

“I can’t stay here,” you cried. “All I hear are those bastard’s footsteps on our stairs. In our home. I see him pointing that gun at you with that goddamn smirk on his face everywhere I turn. When I close my eyes, I imagine him shooting you in the heart. So I’m sorry if I had to get out of here and do something about it!” 

Raylan closed his eyes.

You crossed the kitchen and grabbed his flannel shirt by the collar with still shaking hands. 

“I want to finish this, Raylan,” you said, voice heavy and broken. “But I will finish it my way.” Your words cracked in your throat. “Without having to watch you die.” 

His honey-colored eyes gazed deeply into yours, but he still didn’t say a word. 

You started to step away. 

His hand grabbed your hand and pulled you back into his arms. Raylan locked around you like he could shield you with his body from the whole world. You melted into him, pretending that he really could protect you from everything and that you could protect him. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he sighed against your neck. “I can’t keep running after you, wondering if you're lyin’ cold somewhere.” He pulled back with a raised brow. “And, I gotta admit, it hurt a little that you went to the Crowders instead of me.” 

“I’m sorry, do you have connections with Kentucky crime enterprises that I don’t know about? Any inside secrets that you care to share?” 

“Fair point.” He leaned his forehead against yours. “But you should have come to me first anyway.” 

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have been able to bust into the bar all angry like,” you teased. “It was kinda sexy.” 

Raylan chuckled, shaking his head and pressing his lips to yours. “What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

“I can think of a couple things, deputy, but we, unfortunately, don’t have time for any of them.” 

Raylan’s eyes returned to yours, narrowing. “Why do you got that look in your eye?” He asked. “You know, the one I don’t like because it usually means me getting in trouble.” 

“Because I,” you smiled, straightening his shirt, “have a plan.”

-

“I can’t believe we agreed to this shit,” Raylan said through gritted teeth, hunched down behind a crate between Art and Rachel. Tim was on the roof, setting up in case anything went sideways. 

“Well, the way I figure, we could either go along with her for this one, or she was gonna keep running off on her own, eventually getting herself killed,” Art fired back. “Is that what you wanted?”

Raylan scoffed. 

“That’s what I thought. Now pipe down.” He looked at Rachel. 

She nodded and spoke into her headpiece. “You got a view up there?”

Tim’s voice came from over the com. “If Little-Miss-Plan would get her head out of the way, I’ve got a clear shot on Chamberlain.” 

“Do not shoot my wife,” Raylan said. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, asshole.” 

“Will you be quiet?” Art snapped. ��If they see us, Tim’ll be the last of Y/N’s worries, alright?” 

Raylan blew out a breath. “I really hate this plan.” 

This was it. 

You held your arms out to the side, shrugging your shoulders. 

“You’re looking at her, Chamberlain.” 

His Cheshire cat grin made you shudder. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black notebook. 

Thank you, Boyd Crowder.

“My only condition, of course, is that you leave my husband out of this,” you added. “I won’t drag him into any more of this shit.” 

He put the notebook back.

“You must think I’m an idiot, sweetheart. The wife of a U.S. Marshal as one of my girls?” Derek chuckled. “Tempting, but no.” He clicked his tongue. “I will enjoy gutting that cowboy husband of yours, even if you won’t be around to see it.” 

Derek took his hand from his jacket and aimed the pistol in his hand at your chest. 

“Tim!” Raylan exclaimed.

The two shots rang out together, echoing through the darkened street. 

Marshalls and thugs alike descended upon the scene. Chaos of gunshots and running feet filled the air, but none were louder than the sound of Raylan’s pounding heart in his ears. Everything was laser-focused and a blur all at once. But with it all going on around him, he could only see you. 

With Derek Chamberlain lying across from you in a growing pool of blood. 

As more deputies joined the fray, more and more of Chamberlain’s men started dropping their weapons, smart enough to recognize that this was a fight they weren’t winning. 

Raylan fell to his knees at your side. 

“Y/N,” he gasped, pulling you into his lap, “Y/N, baby, talk to me.” 

Your hand slowly moved, unbuttoning the top few buttons on your shirt, revealing the kevlar underneath, along with the shiny, smashed bullet stuck right where it should have pierced your heart.

“That wasn’t as cool as I thought it was going to be,” you coughed. He tried to help you sit up, but you groaned, the pain of the hit still radiating through your chest. Raylan’s worried eyes stayed glued to yours. “I’m fine, honey, I’m fine,” you said. “Get the notebook.”  

Raylan nodded and set you down gently. 

You turned, saw one of Derek’s creeps dead eyes staring back at you, and turned back, watching your husband approach the man who’d just shot you. 

Raylan reached into Derek’s pocket and, sure enough, pulled out that little black notebook. He flicked through the pages and chuckled. 

“I thought he’d at least have it in code.” With notebook in hand, he started back towards you. 

Derek sat up.

“Raylan!” You shouted. 

With the gun of Chamberlain’s goon in your hand, you fired. Blood and brains burst out of the back of Derek’s head. 

He didn’t sit up again. 

Raylan rushed back to you and lifted you up in his arms. You winced. 

“Sorry,” he muttered. He kissed the top of your head. “Nice shot.” 

-

Turns out, Tim had been attacked by one of Chamberlain’s men who were patrolling the warehouses, otherwise, it would have been his bullet in Derek’s brain. 

The rest of the raid went rather well. The notebook pointed to other warehouses where girls were being kept and the Chamberlain’s were brought in by the FBI and the Marshalls, who claimed to have been working together all along to hide the fact that they used the civilian wife of a deputy as bait. They even found Beth’s daughter. She was alive. Derek was just trying to get you to do something stupid- which, of course, you did. But it was worth it. 

After a check up in the hospital for your bruised ribs, you got to go home. And Raylan didn’t leave your side for a second. It would have been entirely sweet if it weren’t for the occasional suspicious look in his eye. 

“I’m not planning on flying the coop any time soon if that’s what you’re worried about,” you snarked, wincing as you shifted your position on the couch. The bullet may not have killed you, but it sure left a mark that hurt like hell. 

“Considering your record the past week, you’ll forgive my paranoia.” Raylan plopped down beside you, moving your legs into his lap. Despite his smarmy expression, you could see the mix of guilt and relief and fear in his eyes. No matter how many times he saw the bruise on your chest, all he could see was a big, bloody wound where your heart should be. 

If you hadn’t been wearing that vest…

“Hey.” You took his hand. “I’m okay.” 

“You just got shot in the chest almost point blank.” He didn’t look at your face. “You are not okay.” 

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” 

He gave you a dark look. With a little pained effort, you sat up.

“Raylan, honey,” you took a breath and let your tone change from teasing to genuine. “I’m okay.” You kissed him long and deeply to prove your point. 

Raylan sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. You could feel every ounce of panic he’d felt for the past few days. Panic you’d caused. 

You gave him a small smile. “Baby, if we agreed not to scare each other, you’d have to stop walking out that door with your badge and gun every day.”

He opened his mouth to argue. 

“But-” You cut him off. “I will promise that if I come across another case like the Chamberlains and find myself in a similar type of trouble…” You kissed him again. “I will shoot you a text.” 

“At least have the decency to call,” he pouted playfully. 

“Hey, a text is more than you give me half the time,” you fired back. 

He held up his hands. “Alright. Fair enough.”

Raylan wrapped his arms around you, kissed your forehead, and held you until the exhaustion overtook you both. 

You weren’t a simple couple, sure. But you liked it that way.

[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.