#raylan x reader

[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."

[grugruel]

I need to grind on a hot older man so bad rn

[bullet-prooflove]

Not That Kind of Night: Raylan Givens x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mckinleysbones

Companion piece to:

The Only One (NSFW)

You’re a stubborn little thing but then Raylan has always known that. He thinks that’s part of the attraction, you don’t let him get away with shit like the other women in his life. You take him to task, professionally/unprofessionally.

“Those other girls, they go too easy on you Raylan.” You murmur as you clench around his cock, holding him right on the cusp of release, moaning, arching, begging. “They let you do whatever you want.”

This is the way you punish him when he misbehaves. You start off all coy with gentle, teasing kisses and then you cuff him to the bed and have your way with him. It goes on for hours. You riding him until he’s at the pinnacle of release before you leave him hanging. It’s the sweetest of tortures, one that keeps Raylan coming back time and time again.

When you finally let him climax it’s never inside you. That’s the other part of his punishment. He treats you like shit, he doesn’t get the intimacy he craves, he just gets this. His own come splattered across his stomach and the neighbours banging on the wall because when you have him like this it’s loud, so loud that every single one of them know your fucking name. When you’re finished with him, you uncuff him from the headboard before redressing in the light from the lamp on the nightstand.

“You’re not gonna stay?” He asks, trying to catch his breath as his back comes to rest against the headboard.

“No.” You say frankly as you tug your jeans up your thighs. “It’s not that kinda night.”

“You’re still mad.” He states as he grasps a tissue from the nightstand and starts to clean himself up.

“No.” You say, your voice completely devoid of emotion. “I’m indifferent. The way that you are Raylan… I don’t think you know how to be with another person.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He says, tossing the tissue into the trash before his attention turns back to you. “Maybe I am just that fucked up.”

“I must be even more fucked up because I keep coming back.” You tell him as you raise to your feet and pull your jacket on over your shoulders.

“No.” He says quietly, his thumb tracing over the bruising on wrist. “You’re just trying to love me.”

“Maybe it’s time I stop.” You say softly as you open the motel room door and step outside into the nighttime air.

“Yea.” Raylan says as he watches you go. “Maybe you should.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[missmanlykink]

running away with cowboy!older!mickey x fem!reader (aka raylan givens but y’all don’t nothing bout him lol)

moodboard for my fantasy and maybe the fic i’ll be writing. (edit: this involves you loosing your virginity in the back of his truck :D)

[sirxlla]

Wear The Hat, Ride the Cowboy

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

Warnings: Spicy, Alcohol, Age Gap.

Prompt: Raylan's Stetson find's it's way to your head.

Notes: Female Reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

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

College didn't pay itself so bartending was clearly the go-to option, most of the men around here once you got a few drinks in them their wallets took to losing a few dollars pretty well. Even without a few drinks, you could also get them to tip pretty well with just a few sweet little words and make bending over a table or two as you 'dropped' a few dollars.

Raylan had recently been a regular in these past few months after the owner of the bar let him stay upstairs. He'd hit on almost every female bartender in here except you. It was always the same with him, always the same bourbon. He taps the cold whiskey glass with the thick horseshoe ring on his finger.

"You know, Sugar. You keep drinkin like that I outta get you a pitcher." You joked with a sweet smile and filled up his glass trying to get him to flirt back like you'd been doing all night since you were the only one on shift tonight.

Raylan's dark brown peaks up at you from under the brim of his Stetson with a smirk looking you up a down, you were not his usual type and a bit young to be lookin at a man his age he'd assume.

"Darlin, you smooth talk almost every man in here and I see how many tips get thrown your way, some attached to bodies." He remarked with a silver tongue and smoothness and in his voice, it was almost as smooth as the whiskey in his glass.

"Yeah, I might flirt with them but I definitely don't give them the top shelf alcohol like I do you...You know you get some of them drunk enough...They don't realize you put water in their alcohol." You joked completely unserious or were you?

"Oh, well I'll count myself lucky, Kid. Thsnkd for no water down whiskey." Gently tracing the rim of his glass with his pointer finger, his eyes still on yours.

"You say kid like it's a bad thing." You said with a flirty tone and a smile not really knowing if you should take offence or not to the word.

"S'not a bad thing, it's the truth. How old ya anyways?" He asked as his eyebrows furrowed with a bit of wonder.

"Old enough to ride a cowboy." You stated with that same flirty tone as you twirled some of your hair around your finger.

"Now, is that right?" Raylan's smile widened deeply at that response, he definitely admired how adamant and blunt you were being about this.

"Bar closes in about half an hour." You rock back and forth on your heels as your slender fingers gently traced the brim of his cowboy hat while biting your lip with a troublesome grin.

After a few shots on the house and free drinks in the pair of you...Before you knew it you were shovin him twords his bedroom above the bar with a grin on your face, his hands happyily resting on your hips as you did so.

He stopped you for a brief moment as he locked the door. You giggled as you swiftly pushed him onto the bed and he left out a bit of a huff his hat falling off slightly onto the pillow.

"You heard of the cowboy hat rule?" Laughing a bit as naughty idea filled your brain, you slipped his hat onto your head as you crawled up him, straddling him.

"I have no idea, You tell me." He feigned ignorance, he knew what it was you could tell by the look on his face.

"I know you know what it is." You teased, your hands nimbly running over the fabric of his flannel that he wore over his white tee.

"Oh Darlin', I know you know I know, but I want to know if you know..." He had such a cocky look in his eyes. Pulling off the stretchy white low-cut t-shirt you had put on for the night. The shirt found a home on his floor, a perfect spot for it for now.

"Wear the hat...ride the cowboy." You said a bit nervously but excitedly as you held the hat in your hand, returning it to your head as the shirt was discarded from his hands. The smell of bourbon wafted over his face as you kiss him.

"Look at you, Little Lady. There happens to be brains to go with that pretty little body." Raylan smirked as he admired the skin exposed to him, eyes flitting up and down. The Stetson still sat perfectly atop of your head, albiet crooked now after kissing him. He kicked off his boots, the sound of his footwear clunked onto the wood beneath them with a loud but quickly forgotten noise.

Your hands found themselves stuck between holding his face, playing with his hair and unbuckling his belt, your lips pressed against his with fervor as your brain and body had so much it wanted to dl to him.

"Uh huh." He laughs sitting up, appreciating your tipsy vigor, sitting up a bit and wrapping his arms around you. The breath of both of yours mingling together could be a fire hazard in itself.

You were impaitent and he could definitely tell as your hips slightly pressed your covered heat into the hardness in his Levi's. Raylan's shirt and flannel came off rather quickly, his hat fell off your head entirely, joining his boots on the ground.

Raylan's lips found your neck...This was all going so fast, you had been pretty pent up for a while and Raylan definitely wasn't getting much tail as most of the female bartenders had completely turned him down. The man's right hand expertly reached behind you and undid the clasp on your bra, his left pulled the bra free from your breasts.

He laid the both of you down again with you ontop of him, rough hands found your hips guiding you to futher down to grind those cheeky cutoff shorts into his denim jeans whilst his lips fight for dominance with yours.

You lips smirked against his as you finally undid his belt, The air already felt like it was beginning to turn to steam and the both of you were just getting started.

He felt the smirk against his lips and something about it just made him go feral as he quickly flipped the both of you over, almost tearing the shorts and thong down your legs followed by his jeans and white boxer briefs.

"You wear tidy white-" You began to tease with a cute giggle as his lips found yours again with a growl.

"Shut...up." He reached for the side table before tearing a condom open as he asked for your permission. (like a gentleman should, ladies. also wrap it before you tap it 😉)

"You sure you wanna do this, Darlin?" He asks just to make sure this is something you both want, your actions seem clear but he'll be damned if he isn't a gentleman like his Aunt Helen raised him to be.

"Yeah, I'm sure Raylan." You let him roll it onto himself not sure if you should watch or not cause you'd ran into few dudes who found it weird if you did. Raylan settled himself between your thighs kissing you deeply and lustfully to get the momentum going again before he even thought to slip into you.

Your arms slinked their way around his neck returning the same kind of passion and need he was giving. He pushed your knee up as the two of you kissed, he moved his mouth down to your neck. He guided himself into you, Raylan listened for any noises of discomfort before he started moving his hips.

'Holy mother of god is this amazing.' You thought to youdself, it had been a while and you had almost forgot how good the real thing felt compared to your vibrator. Manicured hands found their way around his back, holding onto him.

Raylan started slow and picked up the pace as needed listening to every moan and whine in your voice, His lips bit down on your neck as he groaned back. It wasnt long until....

"Fuck, Raylan!" You shouted with clear pleasure which earned another smirk from him even if you couldnt see it due to his face being burried into your neck. That noise is the only thing he wanted to hear tonight so he kept up the pace as you groaned and your nails dug into his back.

"God fuckin- Oh, fuck!" You started shouting even louder as he kept hitting that same spot over again over again. He picked up the pace just to hear those sounds again and again, addicting like a shot of whiskey on ice after a shitty day.

You'd've thought he'd forgotten about his own pleasure with the way he acted with purpose. In a way he did, of course he felt amazing but the sounds escaping those soft pillowy lips of yours was making him even more aroused.

The band in your abdomen was starting to stretch in such a wonderful way, your nails dug into his back as your head pushed itself into the pillow.

"Fuck! Raylan! God- Fuck!" You screamed. He had picked up the pace to such an incredible high as his hips slapped into yours as fucked like a jackhammer. In most cases you had found that wasnt a compliment...this wasnt even remotely said case.

The headboard was banging against the wall of the bedroom. Nails scratched into his back almost enough to draw blood as the rake down the length of his back which earned a growl from him.

"Are you-" Raylan questioned as he could feel you were nearing your climax and now thinking about it, he was too.

"Yeah." You interrupted him as you left deep nail marks down his back as you panted. With the confirmation he continued that brutal but blissful pace. He slowed as the both of you both moaned in such sweet ecstasy together, the band snapping as white washed over you both. The both of you panted for a few moments just coming down from such a high.

"I outta let you wear that hat more often." He panted out after he lifted his head frok your neck to look at you. Quick breaths left his lips causing hot air to brush across your cheek which the stray piece of hair you didnt even notice off your face.

"Uh huh..." You said a bit mindlessly due to how amazingly fucked out of your brain you were causing him to smile with pride at your expression.

Masterlist

[galactic-academia]

Hungry Hearts

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

Rating: E, minors DNI

Category: F/M

Fandom: Justified

Relationship: Raylan Givens x F!Reader

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

Words : 5K

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

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

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

Masterpost | Ask | Guidelines | Timothy Olyphant Masterlist

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

“Is it still your favorite?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you wanted to get there specifically because?”

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

“And?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s getting disturbing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello Tim, how are you?”

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

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

“Just needed to set the mood.”

The frown between the Marshal’s eyebrows deepens.

“No shit…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Sugar? Where are you?”

“Upstairs!”

Raylan calling for you erases all culpability from your mind.

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

So, so dramatic…

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

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

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

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

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

“No?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, sweetheart, tell me now.”

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

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

“You.”

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

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

“Ok.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Presumptuous, obnoxious, delicious asshole.

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

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

“Here we are.”

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

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

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

“Checking on? What is she looking for?”

“Microphones, cameras, explosives...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sc0rnocpia]

Justified fandom pls come back... (I was a year old when the show aired)

[pretendfan]

Timothy Olyphant (misc) FIC LIST

Scream 2

Cruel To Be Kind

Mickey & Readers infinite playlist

Where is my mind? (WIP)

Justified

I Need You

GO

Trick or Treat (WIP)

[fandom-imagines-stories]

This is Just the Beginning

Raylan Givens x Reader

Words: 2907

Summary: The reader’s husband finds out she’s been investigating a series of disappearances without telling him after she comes home with a dislocated shoulder and a concussion. 

Notes: I don’t really know where I was going with this one, but you know what, it was fun to write. I couldn't resist writing a good 'who hurt you' story with Raylan. I also might write more to this story, hence the cliffhanger, but I thought that starting off in the middle of the drama would be fun to experiment with. I love me a good in medias res. This man has taken full control of my brain, so be ready for possible other Timothy Olyphant appearances on this blog. 

Other Crime Drama imagines: HERE

-

You took a deep breath, braced yourself, and jerked your arm. Biting your lip, your muffled cry of pain still filled the bedroom as you popped your shoulder back into place. Your vision blurred even more, adding to your already dizzy state. You stumbled your way to the bathroom where the mirror revealed more carnage. 

A large gash on your forehead explained the pounding in your head and a massive mark on your left cheek showed the beginnings of a nasty bruise. As for the rest of you, it felt like you’d been trampled by all of the horses in the Kentucky Derby. 

All to get you to stop looking. To scare you into submission. To forget about all of those girls. 

Instead, it just pissed you off. 

But that would have to wait. For now, you were just grateful your husband would be out of town until tomorrow. It at least gave you some time to figure out how to hide your injuries so he didn’t have a goddamn heart attack. The last thing you needed was to have to explain what you’d been doing that led to you getting jumped in the parking lot of your work. 

What Raylan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Hoping to distract yourself from all the throbbing and aches throughout your body, you pulled out your computer to get some work done, maybe figure out who it was that attacked you. There were moments, between the swings and the yelling, that you thought you got a good enough look at the bastard. Skinny, white, teeth that hadn’t seen a brush in years, and you were pretty sure he had a tattoo on his hand. You should know from how many times it smacked you around. 

You flexed your jaw, wincing. “Son of a bitch,” you muttered, pulling up your search engine and typing in the Chamberlain Family Movers website. The cover image depicted all of the members of their little clan of criminals. You narrowed your eyes and leaned over your screen to get a better look. 

The front door opened. 

You slammed your laptop shut. 

“Shit,” you said. “Shit shit shit shit shit.” You scrambled to your dresser for your concealer. “Raylan, honey, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he called back, sounding tired. “Got the job done early so they sent me home.”

“That right?” In your hurry, your hand swept the tube of makeup you needed and you watched in panic as it rolled behind the dresser. “Goddamnit.” 

“Guess that means we can break open that wine you wanted to, huh?” 

“Yeah, that sounds nice!” 

There had to be something. You had to find something. You tried reaching behind the dresser, but it just made the screaming pain in your shoulder shoot up again and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from making any sound. 

Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs. 

You kept your back to the door and your arm behind the dresser. 

Raylan opened the door. 

“Whatcha doing?” He asked, clicking the door shut behind him. 

“Looking for my makeup,” you said, your bruised cheek pressed against the wooden surface. 

“In the dark?” He turned on the light. “Do you want some help?”

“No, no, I almost got it.” You stretched your fingers, accidentally bumping it further away. “Shit.” 

“Are you sure?” He chuckled. “Not that I’m complaining about the view here, sweetheart, but that cannot be comfortable.” 

“Almost…” You caught the tube of concealer between your middle finger and pointer. “There.” You stood up straight, careful to not be facing him. “Now I’m gonna go put it on. I want to look pretty if we’re having a date night.” You hurried to close the bathroom door, putting an inch and three-eighths between you and his gaze.

“Hold up,” he said before you could close it. “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah.” You kept your face turned away. “I just want to put on some makeup.” 

You almost had it. Just a few more inches…

Raylan put a foot in the door. “Why won’t you look at me?” He put a hand on your cheek.

“Raylan, wait,” you said. 

He turned your head to face him and, immediately his face changed. His mouth fell open and his hand fell to his side, but it was his eyes that got you. Oh, his eyes. They filled with worry, but with that, there was a fire. A fire that burned all the way through you. 

“What happened?” 

You held up a hand, motioning for him to calm down before that flame in his eyes turned into a wildfire. 

“Raylan,” you said calmly, sweetly. 

“Don’t Raylan me,” he snapped back. “What the hell happened?” He didn’t let you finish. “Somebody mug you? What have I told you, Y/N, you don’t fight ‘em, you give-”

“I know you are not blaming me right now when I’m standing in front of you with a bruise the size of Tennessee on my face,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as best you could. “God, Raylan, you always have to say ‘I told you so.’” Despite the bite in your words, you couldn’t stop the crack in your voice. 

His eyes softened. He brought his hand back to your face, gently grazing your cheek. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”  

Raylan pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. But when his embrace hit your shoulder, you cried out against his chest. He pushed back in a panic, eyeing you for the injury. 

“It’s, dis-” you took a sharp breath. “Dislocated. I popped it back just before you got here.” 

“You relocated your own shoulder? Why the hell would you do that?”

“I figured if I went to a hospital, you’d find out about it, or hell, maybe someone would think you did it.” You blinked back tears, looking up at the ceiling. 

Raylan saw marks on your neck. Like someone had put a boot there. 

The fire in his eyes returned. 

“Come here.” He led you to the bed, careful not to hurt your shoulder again. “Now, sweetheart, I need you to tell me what happened.” 

You swallowed. “You’re not gonna like it.” 

“I don’t like coming home to you beat to hell either,” he said. “So you’d better just tell me and I can figure this out.”

“You won’t be doing anything.” 

He tilted his head in warning. “Y/N, honey, just tell me who roughed you up. I’m not going to run off and shoot ‘em if that’s what you're worried about.”

That was exactly what you were worried about. 

That, and dragging him into the mess you’d found yourself in was the last thing you wanted. 

Lie. 

“A guy jumped me when I got to my car after work,” you said. If you kept things vague enough, maybe he wouldn't keep asking. Who were you kidding? You married a Marshal. So you added one more thing to throw him off the scent. “Took my purse.” 

Raylan’s eyes narrowed in confusion, darting between you and something behind you. 

“The mugger took your purse?” 

“Uhuh,” you lied. “And I did exactly what you told me to. I cooperated. I didn’t mouth off. And he still beat the shit out of me. Some people I guess.” 

Raylan leaned forward and pointed. “That purse?” 

You turned. Sure enough, that damn bag hung on the back of your chair. 

Shit. 

“N-no, my other purse.”

“You don’t have another purse, honey,” he sighed. “Unless you have another husband that bought you a different one.” Raylan moved so he was crouched in front of you, taking your hands in his. “Just tell me the truth, baby.” 

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and blurted it out. 

“I’ve been looking into some disappearances. I think it might trace back to a crime group outside of Lexington, but I wasn’t sure and I went down there to look around and someone must have seen me-”

Raylan held up a hand. 

“You started investigating organized crime and you didn’t think to tell me?” 

He spoke slowly and quietly. You would have preferred he yelled. 

“I was only looking into it because a friend of mine’s daughter was taken. I wasn’t sure it would lead back to anything big.”

His expression stayed the same. Eerily calm. “You started investigating organized crime and you didn’t think to tell me?” He repeated. 

“They’re taking girls, Raylan,” you exclaimed. “I had to do something.”

He stood up. 

You followed, moving to the chair to grab your purse. 

Raylan spoke from behind you. “Where are you going?”

“I’m not going to sit here and be lectured by you,” you said. “I need to go check on Beth, anyway. If they found me, they might have found her too.” 

“If you are going anywhere, it’s to a goddamn hospital.” There was the yelling you were looking for. “Do you have any idea what kind of shit you are in?” 

“No, Raylan, I really hadn’t thought about the possibility that the Chamberlains might have a problem with me looking into their human trafficking!” You clamped your mouth shut. Shit. You shouldn’t have said that. 

“You went after the Chamberlains alone?” 

“I think we’ve established the alone part, honey. You’ve made it very clear.” 

“Goddamnit, Y/N, this isn’t a joke!” He whirled you around to face him. “I’ve dealt with these people before. And this,” he motioned to your multiple injuries. “This is just the beginning.” He took your face in his hands, thumb running over the mark on your cheek. “It’s just the beginning.” 

Looking into your husband’s dark, worried eyes, you almost broke. 

How hard would it be for them to find him? To make him bleed, to break him. And it would be your fault. 

You had to catch them first. 

“Alright, I won’t go to Beth’s tonight,” you sighed. “But I’m not going to a hospital either.” You stopped him before he could argue. “It’ll draw too much attention.”

“Sweetheart, your head is bleeding, you probably have a concussion, and you relocated your own goddamn shoulder,” he said. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I have you here to keep an eye on me then, hm?” You put on your sweetest smile and pressed your lips against his to keep him from fighting about it. 

When he pulled away, there was a small smile, albeit a reluctant one, on his face. “I’ll go get something to clean that then,” he said, pointing to the gash on your head.

“I’ll surrender to that.” 

He kissed your forehead as he went. 

You waited until you heard his footsteps on the stairs to reopen your computer, peering at the picture until your head hurt. 

There, in the very center, was the sonofabitch who attacked you. 

-

You would have crossed your arms in frustration if your shoulder still didn’t hurt so damn bad. If he was going to treat you like a kid, you were very tempted to start acting like one. 

He led you into the office, pointed at you, then pointed at the chair across from his. 

“You. Sit.” 

“Yes. Sir.” You pronounced with the same agitated tone he presented. Despite your defiant eye, you did as he said and sat down, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the glass of a photograph. An ugly bruise sure enough covered the lower left half of your face and the cut Raylan cleaned the night before. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “You think about anything and everything you can tell me about what you found out. And I mean all of it, Y/N.” The sternness and frustration in his voice hid something else that only someone who knew him like you did could see. 

He was scared shitless. 

Art was already out of his office, watching the encounter between the two of you curiously. 

“Raylan, I didn’t know it was bring-your-wife-to-work-day,” he snarked. When you turned your head, revealing your injuries, his teasing smirk fell. “Good Lord, what happened?”

“I gotta talk to you,” Raylan sighed. “Now.” 

Art nodded and led him into his office, closing the door behind them. 

“Hi, Mrs. Givens,” Rachel greeted with a small smile and a questioning gaze. 

“Oh, it’s just Y/N today,” you said. “My husband’s a touch mad at me, so I think it’s best to leave his name out of it.” You watched her eyes widen. “Oh God, no this wasn’t him.” You laughed humorlessly. “This is my own mess, as I’m sure he’d love to point out.” 

“Looks like quite the mess,” she noted, motioning to your cheek. 

“Yeah well, even Marshalls can’t stop the world from happening, right? Despite what Raylan would like me to believe.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Good luck convincing him of that. Sometimes I think he must believe he’s Superman with the shit he gets himself into.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

The two of you laughed. You tried to get a look into Art’s office, but the blinds were drawn shut. You didn’t like being talked about behind closed doors. It made you feel like a kid waiting for your parents outside of the principal's office. And you didn’t even work here. 

Your leg bounced with a mix of impatience and anxiety. You were so high-strung that you nearly jumped out of the chair when your phone rang, your knee hitting the edge of Raylan’s desk. Everyone in the office looked up at you. You pretended like nothing happened as a string of whispered curses left your mouth. When you looked at the number, you sighed. It was just Beth.

“Hey, I can’t really talk right now, but I might have found something.” 

“Do anything to alert the pretty little Marshal next to you and we’ll shoot Mrs. McCaughly,” a voice you didn’t recognize said. 

You froze. 

They continued. “Go outside. There’s a car waiting to pick you up. We just want to talk.” 

“Hold on, I think you’re breaking up. Let me see if I can get a better signal.” You kept your tone as level as possible. Luckily, everyone in the office had returned to their mountains of work, including Rachel. 

“We appreciate your corroboration, Mrs. Givens,” the voice said slyly. “We’d rather not have to bring your husband into this. That wouldn’t end well for anyone.” 

You turned your head.

Raylan was still in Art’s office. 

“We promise to return you to him in one piece,” the man cleared his throat, “so long as you cooperate, of course.” 

“Let me just step outside. I’ll hear you better there.”

You stood up and walked out without causing any alarm. 

“Jesus, Raylan, what the hell was she thinking?” Art sighed, running a hand down his face. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Raylan’s leg bounced, fists clenching and unclenching around the arms of the chair. 

He could still see the blood in your hair, and hear your whimpers when you moved your injured shoulder. He wanted to find the sonofabitch who did it more than anything, but right now, he was more worried about what it could lead to. 

What had you gotten yourself into?

“I want to put her in protective custody,” Raylan said. 

Art shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Make it work like that.” Raylan stood up, pacing. “Did you see what they did to her, Art? They could have killed her. Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t. And I know her, she’s going to keep pursuing this and pushing and pushing until someone goes over the edge.”

“I guess you two are perfect for each other then,” Art muttered. 

Raylan closed his eyes. “I need help. I don’t know these people. I don’t know what they’ll do, but I know they’ve already gone after her once. Please, Art. I can’t…” He trailed off. 

The tone of his voice alone showed his supervisor just how afraid Raylan really was. Art hadn’t seen him this way before. The anger and frustration, sure. But never afraid. 

Art sighed. “I can’t do anything officially. We can’t confirm that this was anything more than a mugging.” He shot Raylan a look to keep him from arguing. “But why don’t you take a couple days off? Get Y/N and yourself away for a while. Let us look into it and see if we turn anything up.”

Raylan took a deep breath, nostrils flaring and that same fire in his eyes from the night before. He exhaled slowly and nodded. 

“Alright, fine, but if anything happens, I want to be the first to know.” 

“I’ll look into it,” Art said. “Now go take care of that pretty wife of yours.” 

He dismissed him with a wave of the hand. 

Raylan left the office feeling just as wired as he had when he walked in, but when he looked at his desk, his entire body went cold. 

“Rachel,” he started, “where’s my wife?”

The other Marshal looked up from her paperwork. “She had to take a phone call, why?”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“I think outside- hey, wait! What’s going on?”

Raylan was out the door in seconds. Waiting for the elevator would take too long so he sprinted down the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. 

But it didn’t matter how fast he ran. By the time he reached the sidewalk, you were gone. 

[lim-boe]

A Marshal's Talents Part 2

Pairing: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Warnings:

mentions of guns, shooting, and other typical canon violence

Chapter Text

Media: Justified

Word Count: 1294

Part 1

Part 2

That night you got a call from your Aunt Helen in the middle of the night. It was something about Arlo not taking his meds that night and he was yelling at Francis outside. You got up and called one of your old friends for a ride. You had left your car in Virginia and didn't want to rent a car since you didn’t know how long you would be here. Your friend, Maggie had gotten off her closing shift at 1 am and picked you up around 1:30. It was a 2 hour drive and you insisted on paying her for the gas since it was so far and so late. She took the money but waved you off saying her house is an hour away so it wasn't a big deal. As soon as you pulled into the drive of your childhood home you could hear Arlo screaming from the porch.

Maggie stopped you before you exited the car, “ Do you want me to wait?”

“No, I'll probably be needed for a few hours.” you gave her a soft smile.

Maggie’s face was colored with concern, “ Alright then, just text me if you need a ride back.”

“ It’s really alright Maggie,” you continued, “ Thanks a bunch, I really appreciate it.”

And with that you got out of the car and walked towards the porch. You stopped half way and turned to wave to maggie as she backed out. You breathed a sigh, “ Alright Arlo..”

…

Raylan had gone down to see Boyd. There was construction on his way there so that added an extra hour to his drive. He heard Boyd had been at his cousin’s bar more recently and ended up at Johnny's bar. As he walked up to the door he encountered patrons leaving in a slight panic. Raylan bypassed them to see an altercation between Johnny and another man. Johnny had a sawed off shotgun in hand as he sat in his wheelchair. Raylan saw the man pull first. Raylan pulled faster than both of them and shot the man. At the angle Raylan was at he hit him in the arm and within moments the man was out the door. Raylan chased after him, but the man hopped in a van. Raylan knew he would not be able to keep up and it was dark so he missed the plate. He called Art, knowing the man would still be in the office. It was around 9 when he called. The local police showed up in a few minutes, but it took the Marshall’s over 3 hours to arrive at the scene. The Marshals stayed to question the witnesses. 

“So Raylan,” Brooks said as they leaned against his town car, “ I didn’t know you had a sister?”

Before Raylan could speak Tim walked from around the trunk “, I didn't know you had a hot sister.”

Raylan looked at Tim from under the brim of his hat, “ Tim, shut up.”

Rachel huffed a laugh and shook her head as Tim backed off, hands raised, with a smirk on his lips.

It was so late when everything was wrapped up that they decided to get rooms at the closest motel. It was a shithole. Raylan and Tim took one room while Art and Rachel took the other. 

Raylan’s phone rang at 3:49. He groggily picked up, forgetting to check the caller ID.

“ Hello?,” he mumbled. On the other bed, Tim sat up looking at Raylan. He had been a light sleeper ever since his service. 

“Raylan, I need you to get over here right now.” You whispered into the phone, someone was yelling in the background. 

Raylan sat bolt upright, “ Y/n?, Where are you? What’s wrong?,” he spat out. Tim’s eyebrows furrowed at the mention of your name.

“I’m at Arlo’s,” you breathed, “ He’s off his meds and waving a gun around, I have Aunt Helen hiding in your old room and I’m in the kitchen.”

“ I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Stay away from him.” Raylan hung up and started putting in his shoes and coat. 

“ Where we going?” Tim asked, following in Raylan’s lead putting on his gear and grabbing his gun.

Raylan grabbed his keys, “ Arlo’s. My sister is there trying to get him to take his meds and he has a gun.”

They left the room and practically ran to the car. Raylan must have broken 12 laws careening down Harlan’s road to get to the house. They pulled into the drive. Jumping out of the car they could hear the yelling from inside the house. As they ran up the porch a gunshot rang out. 

…

You were trying to talk Arlo down. He had worked himself into a rage, talking about how Francis had run away to noble's holler again. You were trying to get him back to reality when you heard a car pull up. You turned back to Arlo hoping to distract him from Raylan when he came into the house, but when you looked up you say your daddy pointing his gun at you and yelling at you like you were Francis.

“ No Daddy! I’m not Franci-” You tried to say until you heard a loud !POP! And felt a burning pain in your right arm. 

The next thing you knew you were knelt down on the ground with a pretty blond man next to you. You blinked hard and your head started reeling from the pain and noises surrounding you. Tim recognized your quickened breathing and wide unfocused eyes as a panic attack. After taking a quick look at your arm he saw it was only a shallow graze and focused back on you. He said your name and rubbed the sides of your shoulders as he looked at your eyes and tried to get your attention. It took a second, but you finally made eye contact.

“ Okay good. Now I'm going to need you to breathe,” you heard yelling to your left and glanced in that direction, but Tim spoke your name again. “ Y/N. Not over there. Here. girl, breathe.” He grabbed your left hand and put it on his chest. “ Breathe with me, okay? In… out… good. In and out.” He  continued this rhythm until you looked a little more relaxed and your breath started to even out. 

Tim knew that Raylan and Arlo were still at a standstill but their voices were getting louder. He didn’t want you to start panicking again so he decided the best plan was to get you out of the situation. He looked you in the eyes and said, “ Okay, we are going to walk outside to the car, is that okay?”. 

He waited until you nodded then he grabbed your left hand and put his other hand on your waist, careful of your right arm. You were still facing each other and once you both stood up he pulled you to him so you could not see your dad or brother. He then walked you to the door while leaning his head towards your ear. “It’s okay, we are just going to walk to the car. Don’t mind them.”

As you reached the porch you tried to turn your head to see what was happening. Tim moved you to his side as he continued to hold your waist as he pressed you against his left side. He guided you down the drive and to the backseat of the car. He opened the door and had you scoot inside to the middle seat while he dropped into the seat you left empty and closed the door. He texted Art after pulling out his phone. From your new vantage point you could see the house, but not the people inside. 

Shit.

The people inside.

“My Aunt Helen,” you gasped and turned to Tim.

“She’ll be alright,” he whispered. He was looking you over when your breath started to become uneven. At that Tim pulled your face towards his chest as he pulled you into a hug, still wary of your arm.

“ Shhhh,” he cooed, “ You put her in a room upstairs right? Raylan won’t let your father out of his sight and he definitely won’t let him hurt her.” Tim continued to hug you and run his hand over your hair and back. He didn't want you to overthink yourself into another attack and you seemed to gravitate toward physical touch. As he soothed you he could hear you begin to take more substantial breaths. After about 10 minutes while he cuddled Raylan’s sister he saw Raylan exit the house with his Aunt and a few more guns than he entered with. He looked like he was on the phone as well. Tim decided that it would probably ease your anxiety to see them, but when he looked down to tell and realized you were asleep. He decided to let you be while Raylan and Helen walked to the car. Raylan opened the backseat door and peered in with a worried expression.

“ She alright?”, Raylan asked, noticing your position on Tim and his face morphed into a scowl.

“ She will be,” Tim hummed, “ but I think she is in shock and she will probably need stitches. Arlo?”

“ I called the local police to grab him, he is currently handcuffed to the stair rail. I didn’t want him in the car with either of them,” Raylan said while looking between his sleeping sister and Aunt who wore an indignant expression on her face. 

“ You can leave me here Raylan,” she huffed, “ it’s my job to take care of him.” 

Ralan sighed and pinched his brow, “ Just get in the damn car.”

[usmsgutterson]

I'm onto season three and finally logged into this account (aka the one I use for things that arent horror or horror adjacent) and REALLY want to write for raylan givens from Justified!! I've been watching the show for five or six days now bc y'know, binging stuff, and I just. is there much of an audience for him?? I feel like there should be bc timothy olyphant in justified is W O A H but idk, I felt like checking first lol

[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.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[awaterfalls]

Tim Gutterson

"Miami to The Holler"

Summary: Lia Martines transferred shortly after Raylan Givens from Miami to the Lexington U.S. Marshall courthouse only to be met with disdain from Tim Gutterson. After an undercover stakeout to catch a drug transport went south, feelings come to a head.

A/N: OC Intro: Lia Martines, Tim GuttersonX!FemaleUSMarshall, She/Her Pronouns, Angst, Enemies to Lovers.

• Hey guys! This is my first time ever posting something I write here. I hope you guys like it!! I want to thank my amazing, incredible, espetacular friend, Nat @she-wolf09231982.. thank you for helping me with these! ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How can I begin to explain the situation I find myself in? Well, I'll from the beginning. Before becoming a U.S. Marshall, I always thought it would be easy. Just like in the movies. You shoot people and make arrests. But it's totally different. I was a U.S. Marshall for the Miami department when I met Raylan Givens. He already had a reputation, but even a bigger one after he had his showdown with the big drug king, Tommy Bucks, shooting him down for not leaving the city like he had asked him.

Our superiors arranged for Raylan to be transferred away from high profile Miami to Eastern Lexington, Kentucky. I soon followed in his footsteps looking for a quieter life in the country. I transferred to Harlan, Kentucky and it was terrifying. Being a newbie in a place you know is bad enough, imagine being in a place you don't know... It was a nightmare. It was bad in some parts, in fact, but one person made the environment worse. Tim Gutterson is my partner at work. Basically, we're assigned to do everything together. All the missions... everything. In addition to Tim, I also have Rachel and Raylan, but Tim was the most annoying.

Since I arrived here, he has always picked flights with me and done everything to show that he didn't like me. And because of this, every time we had a mission together, Art would lecture us saying he would destroy us if we messed up and how much it would ruin our careers. I never thought this day would come, but it did. Art had gone over the details of our next undercover stakeout.

" Martines and Gutterson, you are going to stay at the hotel where the supposed drug dealers are lying in wait. Lucky for you, they're not very smart and probably don't know that we're after them. But it's still important that you be cautious and avoid any kind of confusion, ok? You guys know how important this is to us, so don't screw it up."

That's what Art told us before we were sent to this hotel. Basically, Tim and I were to pretend to be a couple and staying at the hotel where the suspected drug dealers were, so that we can collect as much evidence as possible and arrest them. It's something quite easy. After all, it's just a few days away from Harlan, watching two people. Easy... That's what I thought.

Tim and I arrived at the hotel on a Monday and settled in as best we could. We arrived the day of the mission, so we had to be quick.

"Are you ready? We don't all day." Tim said looking at me irritated while letting out a bored sigh.

" Are you that excited to be my husband?" I said smiling and he rolled his eyes.

"The day I get excited about doing anything with you, you can be sure that I was abducted... I'll wait for you in the car." He said, leaving without giving me the chance to respond.

He's an idiot. I wonder what I did to make him hate me so much. I met him in the car and we were soon on our way to where we believed a drug deal was going down. The journey was long and tedious. He didn't say anything and neither did I... It was irritating me.

"So what were you doing before all this?" I asked breaking the silence.

I've always been curious about him. I always asked about the lives of everyone around me. And I've also always been an open book to everyone. When I met Tim that all changed. Because of our relationship we never spoke, but something about him always intrigued me. People talked about him and what he did before, but I wanted to hear it from him. He looked at me sideways but didn't respond. It seems like he was thinking about whether or not to respond. His face had an expression of doubt mixed with anger. I don't know how to explain what I felt when I saw him like that.

" What does this have to do with what we're doing now?" He snapped before continuing. " Why are you so interested in knowing? All this time you've been here, the only thing you've done is insult me and now you're interested in my past? And let's be honest, right? As if you didn't know, I'm sure Rachel or Raylan told you about me. Please, let's stop pretending we care about each other. I want to do the work and go home, be at peace and not hear your annoying voice." Ok, that one hurt.

It was always like this with him. Every time I tried to talk to him or try to clear the air, he always verbally attacked me. He didn't give me a chance to get close to him.

"Why did I always react like this, Tim?" You thought to yourself before spoke up. " Every time I try to get closer to you, you always push me away. There's always something bad to say. I never did anything to make you treat me this way. I don't know anything about your life. I have nothing against you. But for some reason you seem to hate me. I don't understand. Why do you treat me like this? What did I do wrong? People around us speak very highly of you, they say you're a great guy. But you prove me wrong every day. The question I asked wasn't intended to provoke you, but you're right, I did already know what you did or what you were before here, but I wanted to hear from you. Because I like you. I know that despite everything, you are a good man. But I'm tired of proving myself every day to someone who doesn't care about me. I'm sorry for bothering you so much and I promise I will never talk to you about non-work topics again." You finalized. It really was very tiring. I always tried really hard to get closer to him, but he never let me. It's tiring to fight over something you don't know for what or why.

We continued the journey in silence. Everyone in their own thoughts. At least the landscape was beautiful. This is a beautiful place, the nature around everything leaves me at peace. I was taken out of my thoughts by an abrupt bang. A car just hit us from behind, causing us to be projected forward sharply. We didn't have time to think, as the passengers in the other car started shooting at us. Tim and I did what we could to defend ourselves taking ducking inside our vehicle. There were so many of them firing that I didn't even know where they were coming from anymore. As we returned the fire, we managed to hit one of them, because we had heard a scream as their car came to a screeching halt. As we cautiously approached their car, they opened fire again. Tim pulled me back behind our car to take cover. The fire fight didn't last very long, as they left when they saw that we were outnumbered. We definitely got one of them right.

Tim looked at me with concern.

"Are you okay? Your forehead is bleeding." I hadn't noticed. The adrenaline was so much that I went blind. It was probably when we were thrown sharply at the time of the crash. I remember hitting my head somewhere, but I couldn't quite see where.

"Oh, I'm fine." You said touching your forehead where it hurt. " It's no big deal. We need to let Art know they found us. We can leave it like this. " I said taking my cell phone when Tim snatched it out of my hand.

" Are you crazy? You're hurt and the only thing you care about is this shitty mission? We're going to the hospital. The work can wait and I'm sure Art can too." He said pulling me into the car.

The ride to the hospital was quiet. Tim didn't say a word to me, but I could tell he was worried. Obviously, it wasn't about me, it was about the mission and probably what Art was going to tell us. I was too, because ruining everything wasn't in the plans, but life isn't always the way we want it to be. We arrived at the hospital and while I was waiting to be seen, Tim went to call the office and explain what happened. The nurse called me and immediately started cleaning my wound. I had forgotten how much it hurt. It wasn't anything serious, but I had to get two stitches on my forehead. Another scar for the collection. Yay!

When we left the hospital, Tim informed me that Art was already aware of what had happened and that he was going to send us back up the next morning and that we were to stay at the hotel and wait for them. We got back to the room and I went straight to take a shower. Tim seemed weird, more than usual. It was as if he was bothered by something beyond himself. I don't know how to explain. But I won't dare to ask, the last time I asked him something, I almost got shot. I got out of the shower and left the bathroom, Tim wasn't in the room. I could've waited for him or even called, but I couldn't stay awake for long so I went straight to bed. I needed to lie down and rest. My head was hurting so much and these thoughts never left me alone. What do you need to do to have a little peace? To die? Perhaps yes. But it wasn't my time yet. I fell asleep like a rock.

Around down, I woke up scared. I had a nightmare.

"Damn it! I hate these kinds of dreams. I don't have any peace even when I sleep. " I thought to myself. I turned to the side and found Tim sleeping.

"Okay... He's sleeping with me... In the same bed as me... Wtf? It's the end of the world." I thought. I couldn't help but notice how serene he was. His mouth forming a pout, it looked like a baby. The messy hair... He's beautiful. Asleep and awake. "Stop staring at me and go back to sleep." Tim mumbled at me. It scared the shit out of me. How does he know I was looking at him if he had his eyes closed?

" How do you know I'm staring at you?" he smiled. A beautiful smile, I must say. " I know everything you do, Lia. " It was the first time he called me by my name. And it sounded so beautiful in his voice.

" Okay... You're weird! And I wasn't looking at you, I was just checking to see if you were breathing, that's all. " I said, trying not to seem so obvious, even though I had the impression that he already realized how stupid I was looking at him. And once again he smiled. What possessed him to keep smiling like that?

"Lia, you don't fool me. I know everything you do. I know what you like and don't like. I know how much you love chewing gum because it helps you stay calm throughout the day. I know you like to tease Raylan that the coffee he buys is horrible, even though it's from the same place that Rachel and I buy it. I know you twitch your lip when something bothers you. I know you wear the same leather boots to work because they bring you luck. I know the place you love most in the world is your home and yes, that's cliché. " He paused to take a breath before continuing. "But that's okay, I'm not judging. I know you. I've noticed you since the day you set foot in that office. It felt like an angel entering hell. I couldn't take my eyes off you, but I had to contain myself because I didn't want you to notice. Damn Lia, I always paid attention to you. The moment I understood that I like you, that I was in love with you, I panicked. What would a woman like you want with a guy like me? I thought you weren't a woman for me, because I always thought you deserved better than this... But today... Lia, today I almost had a heart attack. I thought I was going to lose you... I couldn't bear the thought of losing you. This makes me see how much time I wasted leaving you out of my life. Lia, I want to apologize for treating you so badly all this time. I was in a state of denial and the only way I found to keep you away from me was to treat you the way I did. I thought you would realize how stupid I am and leave me alone, but you always came back and I somehow, always came back to you. My thoughts most of the time, are you. Damn, I really hope you can forgive me. I really do." He explained.

Okay... He threw all this at me and I don't know what to say. I'm confused. This entire time I thought he hated me... But he actually likes me? My gosh! This is a lot for me.

"Tim, I don't know what to say... I'm confused. I mean, you like me? I really don't know what to say. And of course I forgive you. And I care about you too. I like you. I'm just puzzled because I always thought you hated me. Never in my life would I think of you telling me those things." I said as he looked at me relieved.

We stared at each other for a few seconds until he pulled me towards him and hugged me. It was a sincere and totally affectionate hug. It felt like home. I felt comfortable in his touch. He smells so good... Like heaven. A smell I could easily get used to. We held each other all night and I never felt so good. Tim wouldn't let me go, not even to go to the bathroom. He said he didn't want to waste any time with me ever again. And to be honest, neither do I. I can't wait to tell Rachel this.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Guys!!!! It's a very long one shot... I really hope you guys like it! Also, English is not my first language so please be nice, ok? Thank you!! ❤️

[sirxlla]

Hello! I love your Justified preferences so much! I was wondering if you would write one with the prompt Accidentally saying I Love You during sex, Boyd specifically please. If not I totally understand. Have a good day!!❤️

Accidentally Saying "I Love You." During S*x (Justified)

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

-> Raylan Givens: You and Raylan decided to hook up. It was only supposed to be casual sex between co-workers, but some nights, either you or he didn't leave before morning. You'd lay there on Raylan's chest, tracing absentmindedly on his chest until you two would get up for work. Separate cars so it would be less suspicious that you two are sleeping together. The whole office seems to know, but Art and it's not ideal, but you both wanna keep it that way.

You started to fall in love with him, no surprise there considering you also had a crush on him in high school, but with Winona suspected to be playing musical chairs with Raylan and her husband, you're worried about what might happen between you and Raylan.

You invited him over for a drink, and as par for the course, you two ended up getting handsy. Raylan laid you down on the bed, kneeling down at the side of it. You nearly feel like you're gonna fall as he pulls you to the edge of the bed, slipping your pants and underwear off swiftly.

Raylan very quickly swings your thighs over each shoulder and just starts to go at it. Kissing, licking, lapping, and rubbing just in the right spots to make you gasp or your thighs tighten around his head.

"Fuck, I love you, please don't stop!" You grabbed his hair and gently kept his head down, Raylan continued for a brief second before he smirked and looked up at you.

"No, no, no, no. Ray, that's not funny."

"You wanna repeat what you said?" He asked as he rested his chin on your lower abdomen, toying with you.

"That's not funny?" You asked because you had said it much without thinking.

"Darlin', you said you love me. You don't remember that?" His voice vibrated through his neck and onto your body causing your body and mind to go fuzzy again.

"Yeah, I did." You weren't even focusing on much of what you were saying until he moved up the bed and started kissing you, sliding two fingers in. You realize only briefly what you said before starting your journey to make him realize you are worth more than Winona.

-> Boyd Crowder: Boyd had just got out of prison, and of course, that meant he was horny; most men are when getting out of prison after a long time. It was only but a few months but it felt like forever and a goddamn day. You let him drive with his now regained freedom, and in the first quiet little spot he found, he was all over you.

Boyd knows Harlan better than the back of his hand, so he knows exactly where to stop so he can do a little lovin' on you. He smiled and pulled you into his lap, pushing your skirt up.

"Jesus must've spent a lot of time on you, Darlin, 'cause you're looking mighty fine." He doesn't even need to look down at what he's doing. He just keeps his eyes on yours. Boyd pushes into you without even a second glance down at you. He's missed your face even more than your body, and he's staring at it like he'd like to tattoo your face on the inside of his eyelids just to see you each time he blinks.

It had been a while since you went some, so before either of you knew it, you were riding him faster than the Kentucky Derby. The car rocks back and forth as you try to prove to him in each movement how much you miss him, your teeth clashing with his as you kiss him roughly.

"Jesus, Darlin. I sure do love you." He said while looking up at your now sweaty face. The words that left his mouth might not have been on purpose, you can't tell because he just got out of jail, but the words cause you to reach your already teadering climax. You continue on to make this the best you can for the both of you.

He taps your hip to give you the sign he's gonna finish; you get off him, partially sitting on the center console and half in his lap as he finishes off. You run your finger through a little bit of the substance,.licking it.

"I love you too." You smirk with a twinkle in your eye. Boyd doesn't know what just happened as he watched you do that, but he's pretty sure he did actually fall in love with the way his stomach flipped at that sight.

-> Tim Gutterson: Today was just awful for him, everything was triggering his PTSD. Usually, it wasn't so bad, and a loud noise was just a loud noise. Tim was jumpy and skittish today, so bad that Art sent him home.

Both you and Tim had served together; you had just gotten out of the military and needed a place to stay, and Tim was more than willing. Besides occasional sex when you two were deployed which was years ago, you two are just friends bonded by shared military trauma.

A distraction is exactly what he needed and exactly what you gave him. Tim had bent you over the back of the couch, just focusing on your ass watching between the two of you. The only noises in the room were you panting and screaming, him occasionally grunting, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

"Fuck, Tim! God- Yes!!!!" You reached behind yourself to grab at him, one of his hands on your neck to push you further and further over the couch, the other hand around your body to hold you in place. You couldn't see it, but he was smirking, any jumpiness and skittishness replaced by a need to make you scream. It's a good thing you don't have any really close neighbors because you've always been loud; he knows exactly what spot to hit to make you scream when you climax.

"God, I fucking love you." He growled out as he watched your ass slap against him, pulling you even closer as he finally reached his high.

It took a few minutes after coming down from your high for you to realize what he said. It wasn't that you didn't love him; it was just that neither of you was brave enough to tell one another.

"I love you too." You whisper back to him, standing up and pressing your back to his chest.

"What?" He asked as he buried his face in your neck, breathing in the scent of you, massaging your hips.

"You said I love you." You remind him before lacing your fingers with his. He hears you and remembers what he said in the moment, and it's not like it wasn't true, but he didn't expect to accidentally tell you now, and his face goes red, heat beating off his cheeks.

"I did...I- I did."

-> Clement Mansell: Clement didn't really tell you what he was doing because he learned a lot after Sandy. Plus, the police couldn't arrest you if you truly didn't know anything, so it's a win-win for him. You came home after a long work day to the apartment he was "borrowing from a friend." He was showering, and you could hear him singing, which he rarely did around you, even though you'd beg, Sandy fucked him up badly with how much she lied to him, but he'd never admit it.

Usually, when he'd listen to music around you, it was mostly rock, but that's not what's playing now; he's listening to "I Need You" by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw. You entered the bathroom and started singing with him. He jumped before realizing it was you, and then a smile filled his face as he continued singing with you.

You stripped down while you sang with him before slipping into the shower. The song ended, and he picked you up and wrapped your thighs around his waist, pressing your back to the back of the shower as he guided himself in. Your ankles locked behind his back to pull him even closer in.

His music continues to play slow love country, as he slowly moves his hips, kissing your neck. You massaged the back of his scalp as he slowly moved his hips so much more languid than ever before. Clement was doing his best to tell you he loves you without saying it after Sandy, it's hard for him to say anything deep, but you knew.

"I love you, Clem." You accidentally said as you raked your nails through his hair, moaning quietly. He was usually so much more fast and lustful than loving and languid; this time seemed special,, and the words came out without a second thought.

"I'd hope so, Darlin." He said as he continued his movements, gently biting at your neck, keeping you pressed to the tile wall.

As the two of you eventually came down from the highs you were both getting from one another, the water became cold all of a sudden, and he very quickly removed you both from the shower. Setting you down on the bath mat, He grabbed a towel and started to towel you off, kneeling at your feet to dry you completely.

-> Masterlist

-> Send me requests/prompts if you'd like

[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.

[kindlingandhawthorn]

beta reader? discord?

I'm looking for a beta reader for the first time in probably 20 years... or maybe a discord community to toss ideas back and forth with...

I'm currently writing explicit (bdsm/kink, abo, dub-con/non-con recovery) fic. This IS a new psued (not someone new to the internet/fandom/etc.) and that's because I don't really want to cross the streams as it were, between this fiction and the rest of my digital footprint.

I have a ton of momentum behind me right now in the form of 50k words of Justified kink (ha!) in one series (I already posted part 1), another ~50k of Justified ABO, as well as the start of four more Jacob Pitts-centric fics (fandoms include Justified, The Pacific, and one very bizarre Sinner-influenced prostitute AU- I don't even know, guys)

So... if you're interested in beta reading, know someone who is, know of a discord (and maybe don't mind coaching someone through joining a discord for the first time?) or are just willing to signal boost, I'd be grateful.

Tagging this with applicable fandoms and pairings. ALL of which I seem to be showing up to 10-15 years late with Starbucks.