#raylan/boyd

[drjackabbots]

"He has had my back on two occasions. Once was the last day I was in the mine, and the other not so long ago." "My, sounds like a love story."

[pawpawholler]

Stifling a yawn, Raylan picked up the heavy plastic desk phone. “Deputy marshal Raylan Givens speaking.” “Raylan?” The voice was young and female, and Raylan scanned through his mental files, trying to remember when he’d contacted a young woman. Or from the sound of that one word, a child. “I’m Raylan.” Closing his eyes, Raylan tried to shut out the noise and bustle of the office, listening for clues. “This is Loretta McCready. You said to call if I ever needed anything, anything at all.” Well, shit.

On my sixth attempt, I finally nailed down my outline for this! I'm having so much fun!

[abbyholmes]

Yeah, so…I have become a liiiiittle obsessed with Justified over the last months.

Particularly with the mess of a ship that Raylan/Boyd is.

And uhm. I tried not to write about them.

I REALLY FUCKING TRIED.

But that idea stayed stuck in my head and uh, so…I wrote a thing.

The first 5 chapters are finished and I just uploaded the first one at AO3.

Enjoy, I guess? If anyone wants to read this.

You know I won‘t let you get away

SUMMARY:

When Raylan receives a letter from Boyd, everything changes.

Not because it‘s their first contact in years. Not because Boyd tells him he is being released from prison before the end of his sentence. But because Boyd gets out of prison on compassionate release. The coal dust has caught up with him for good, he claims. Raylan isn‘t sure what to believe.

So he has to make sure his favorite criminal really is a dead man walking and not planning one more coup. That‘s all. That‘s why he turns up on his day of release. No other reason.

Ok maybe there is, but neither Raylan nor Boyd want to admit it.

Until they both realize that a ticking clock in the background might just be their last and only chance at a window of togetherness.

(Takes place after the original series finale and ignores primeval)

CN: Cancer, mentions of past violence and murders, mentioned experiences with homophobia, major character death, signs of illness, mentions of medication

[gold--cloud]

Jesus christ

[acorrespondence]

❄️ if you’re still in the mood for the wip meme :)))

❄️Share a snippet from a WIP of your choosing.

Thank you so much for the ask; I’m always in the mood to share my writing, haha. It’s pretty rough and mostly just back-and-forth at the moment, but here’s a fun little bit from the upcoming chapter of heavy heart that doesn’t give too much away:

Boyd glares back. “How many times I got to tell you to answer your goddamn phone?”

“At least one more.”

Boyd rolls his eyes. “Well I do believe that’s self-evident.”

“How you even know about this, anyway? I thought we had it locked down pretty tight.”

“You know I listen to the police scanner.”

“You got to stop doin that. It’s, like, obsessive.”

“Well I can’t whistle more’n one note, so I gotta do somethin while I work. Though you callin me obsessive does bring to mind that old aphorism about pots and kettles.”

“I ain’t obsessive.”

“Ha. Don’t make me bring up your recent inquiries into the real estate sector.”

(Ask Game here)

[sepiawizarddetective]

Arlo Givens - "Only reason my son come to Harlan is because of your son!"

Said to Bo Crowder, season one episode eleven Veterans.

[mudkipper]

PSSPSPSPSPSPSPPS i wrote a fic for the first time in months come read it

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Justified Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, early season 2, Angst, Hurt/Minimal comfort, Arguing, implied PTSD, Friends to Lovers to Enemies, to whatever this is, Relationship Status: It's Complicated, Past Relationship(s) 

Summary:

Boyd's trying to clean up his act for the millionth time. Raylan doesn't believe him for the millionth time. Yet, that doesn't stop him from disregarding his already loose morals completely by falling into bed with the one and only man who can, and will, entirely uproot his life. Debatably, they've done equal damage on each other's lives, and not just in physical terms of Raylan having shot Boyd centimeters away from his heart.

Inevitably, Raylan and Boyd get into an argument.

[nokomiss]

Fic: and we will dance until they bury me

Justified; Raylan Givens/Boyd Crowder, 1180 words

Post-City Primeval. “Now, as I was saying,” Boyd continued, “You and me, Raylan, we've been dancing around this thing between us since we were kids. Eventually a man's got to stop dancing, and I've chosen today.”

[roseredfingers]

[lousolversons]

Raylan Givens + Boyd Crowder in Season 1 of JUSTIFIED

[doeeyedyelena]

JUSTIFIED 1.01 — Fire in the Hole 1.02 — Riverbrook

[drjackabbots]

boyd/raylan 19 :) :)

send me an ask with a ship/fandom + a number from 1 through 100 and i will write a small ficlet (100 words or more) based on the song at that ranking 

#19: Poor Thing from Sweeney Todd cw warnings for alcohol use, vomiting, and heavily implied non-consensual drugging

There ain’t a lot of parties around Harlan, or at least as far as Raylan’s concerned.

Parties are for the college kids who drink too much rum and cokes around town, who snort cocaine off their parents’ credit cards and drink whole bottles of vodka to get into their fraternities so they can wear letter jackets and act like they’re better than everyone else. Harlan boys are better than everyone else, in different ways than they’d have you believe. They throw parties with moonshine and weed and shotguns.

Raylan doesn’t care for it all that much, though he goes when he gets an invite. He’s college age, even if he isn’t actually in college, and it isn’t like he’s against the idea. It’s that going down into the hole when you’re hungover is a bad time, and Raylan’s not keen on having a mine come down on his head because he was too busy trying to remember how much he drank the night before. Arlo don’t seem to care either way whether Raylan comes home drunk, depends on his mood most days, but Aunt Helen’s definitely tanned his hide once or twice for being irresponsible.

He can handle his liquor, though, and when a few of the other boys from around town invite him over for a bonfire—which means something else entirely in their part of the country than most others—he figures aw, what the hell. It’s been a while since. He can have some fun, pace himself, and maybe even get laid if he’s really of the mind to do so.

It’s two drinks in, though, that he realizes something might be wrong. He can handle his liquor. He’s a Harlan boy, and a Givens on top of that, but the two beers and the shots of moonshine seem to be taking a quicker toll than they’re supposed to. His stomach is doing all sorts of somersaults when they ain’t supposed to for at least another hour. He looks at his near empty bottle and takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Everything alright, Givens?” It’s one of the boys that he’d gone to high school with. There’s a gleam in his eye that Raylan doesn’t like. He’s got good sense, and good instincts, and there’s something predatory in his expression. He looks like Raylan’s sudden intoxication isn’t a surprise to him in the slightest.

Raylan squints back down at his bottle, eyebrows coming together. Had it tasted off?

Ah, fuck.

“M’fine,” Raylan says, though it comes out almost as one word. He tries to move away, but stumbles over his own feet somehow. Raylan’s not a stumbling kind of person, he likes to keep a tight hold of his faculties as often as he can. Things are dangerous in Harlan, and Raylan doesn’t have a gun on him. He’s actually not sure he’d be able to shoot it, anyway.

“Whoa, Givens,” the other boy says easily, moving forward to grab him by the wrist. His hand is too big and too warm, and Raylan wrenches it away with a frown. “It’s alright, boy, relax. Just tryin’ to help. You look like you’ve had too much to drink. You want us to help you inside?”

“No,” Raylan says immediately, moving back again. A fucked up little dance. He moves back, the others move forward. “No, I don’t.”

That last little step ends up being too much for him. His knee buckles, head swooping hard with such a sudden wave of dizziness that he’s worried he may actually pass out. He makes a little grunting noise that he’s not sure is loud enough to scare off his pursuers, but at the last second someone snatches him hard around the waist, hoisting him back up onto his feet.

Raylan panics, throwing an arm out feebly to try and push the new person away, but they take his wrist as easily as if they were going to shake his hand and wrap it over their own shoulders instead.

“Easy now, Raylan.”

Oh.

He squints, the world still pulsing and squishing together.

“Boyd…?” Raylan slurs, staring up at him, but Boyd’s not returning the gaze. Instead he’s looking straight ahead, an easy smile on his face. His cheeks are a rosy red color, but his eyes are clear and his voice is steady and even. Boyd’s pretty good at holding his alcohol, but then that must come with being a Crowder.

That’s a bit mean, actually, Raylan thinks for some reason.

Upon closer inspection, though, he can see the way the skin has tightened around Boyd’s eyes, the way he flashes that beautiful smile at whoever he’s looking at like he’s actually baring his teeth. Back off, it says. I’m warning you. It’s a tiger circling its cage, knowing the keeper’s not paying proper attention. It’s a hawk sitting on a branch, waiting for the mouse to leave its den because it thinks everything’s safe.

“No one invited you to this conversation, Crowder,” one of the other boys says.

His tone is low and dangerous. As if that could somehow scare Boyd away. What a thought. Boyd ain’t scared of nothing, last Raylan checked. Except maybe his Daddy. Sometimes it’s hard to tell.

“Well,” Boyd says, his tone casual, “I reckon where the welfare of Raylan Givens is concerned, I am most unfortunately inclined to insert myself into the conversation regardless.”

Raylan’s stomach turns out of nowhere, and he very well thinks he may throw up if Boyd doesn’t get him somewhere to do so in the next few minutes. The world is spinning, a carousel of nausea and heaviness, and he mumbles Boyd’s name as loud as he’s able without burping up bile. He feels sick. Too sick. There really must’ve been something in his drink.

“We were just talking,” the boy says, and Raylan clutches at Boyd’s flannel, bending over as the weight of his nausea almost becomes too much to stand. “Ain’t gotta worry about it. We’ll take care of him if he needs.”

“Actually, I plan on returning Raylan to his house myself, where he’ll undoubtedly be sleeping off this eventful night,” Boyd says sweetly, hoisting Raylan more securely against his side like it’s nothing at all to do so. “But your good will is much appreciated, friend.”

Raylan can hear the undertone as clear as day. One of Boyd’s talents is acting a good Southern boy and using good Southern boy manners, while also making it entirely clear that he’s issuing a threat. And when Boyd issues a threat, he’ll make good on it if it’s not heeded.

Not waiting for an answer, Boyd huffs and settles Raylan once more against his side before starting to move him away. Boyd’s lean but he’s got plenty of muscle to spare for a nineteen year old, and he has to all but drag Raylan towards his truck. Raylan can’t really see or hear much of anything at the moment, but he has enough sense to smack the back of Boyd’s head a few times to warn him.

Without a word, Boyd drags him around the truck and carefully bends him over until Raylan’s head’s between his knees. At the soft, gentle rubbing between his shoulder blades, Raylan finally pukes. It tastes awful, beer and moonshine and the sooty aftertaste of standing too close to a fire. He throws one hand out against the truck to steady himself and manages to ride out a second wave of vomit. It makes an awful splashing noise against the dirt, and he’s almost afraid some of it got onto Boyd’s boots.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and burps. It nearly brings up more puke. “Dunno what happened.”

“I do,” Boyd says calmly, and takes Raylan’s hand to tug him towards the passenger side. “But we will be talking about it when you’re not standing on the precipice of vomiting the entire week’s worth of meals.”

“Why you always gotta talk so weird,” Raylan groans.

Boyd just chuckles quietly and helps him into the truck. Raylan doesn’t remember much of the ride, and he’s half convinced that he’s going to wake up in the Crowder house. That’s a nightmare in and of itself, and he’s not looking forward to it, but when Boyd slows the truck to a stop and puts it in park, Raylan can see the white siding of his own house instead.

“Aw, hell,” he whispers, his forehead against the cool glass of the window. “Arlo’s gonna kick my ass.”

“He ain’t here,” Boyd says, and gets out of the car. “Johnny said he was at the bar again.”

Well, that’s a relief, at least. He manages to drag himself off the door long enough for Boyd to get him back out of the truck without him toppling into the dirt driveway, but his legs don’t want to work. It takes him a minute to get himself steady, and once he’s not in danger of passing out, he nods.

Boyd just wraps an arm around his waist again, and Raylan’s too exhausted and sick to protest. It’s kind of nice, really, to have the added support.

Aunt Helen answers the door, and Raylan doesn’t have to be sober to know the look on her face could melt iron. She must be piss mad, because he can feel it coming off her. No doubt she can smell the smoke and alcohol. He didn’t tell her where he was going, but it must be clear enough. He’s so fucked.

“Sorry to impose, ma’am,” Boyd says politely, and his fingers tighten against Raylan’s side. Don’t say anything, the grip warns. “But Raylan and I were sampling some of my cousin Johnny’s wares— at his insistence—and I think he gave Raylan a bit more than he could tolerate. May I take him to bed?”

There’s a pause while Aunt Helen must be taking that in, and then there’s a soft sound as she moves aside.

“Thanks for getting him home in one piece, Boyd,” she says stiffly, and Raylan feels himself get hitched up again. He’s gonna hear it in the morning, no doubt.

Boyd somehow manages to coax Raylan up the stairs, which is a feat given that Raylan’s still not entirely sure his brain ain’t leaking out of his ears. But once he gets himself onto his bed, he realizes what a good idea it was. He could fall asleep right now, with the gentle pressure of Boyd tugging his boots off and working him under his Mama’s quilt.

“Boyd,” Raylan finally says, eyes fluttering and voice slow and stupid. “Thank you. Didn’t have to do all that.”

There’s a long pause, and then Raylan feels lips against his forehead. There’s a warm hand on the top of Raylan’s head, so soothing that he leans into it like a cat.

“Yes I did,” Boyd says quietly. “Now go to sleep, Raylan.”

He must’ve already been asleep, though, because that couldn’t have possibly been anything but a dream.

[pawpawholler]

Fates

Boyd Crowder/Raylan Givens || Boyd Crowder || Raylan Givens || Frances Givens || OC Connie Crowder (Boyd's mama) || Alternate Universe || buckle in we’re doing six alternate universes || all character deaths occur only in one universe || underage betrothals || arranged marriage || they’re dumbasses your honor || Arlo Givens A+ parenting || in every universe || canon-typical violence || which is to say || intimate partner violence || in one universe || off screen spousal murder || in one universe || the two-body problem || Boyd writes things || come for the sex scenes || stay for the Appalachian history || and environmental science lesson || sorry about the lack of footnotes || Boyd fastens a morality chain on Raylan that is so strong || the terror of being known || fix-it || 5+1 || Happily Ever After || Appalachia

updated: 2025-06-03

words: 6,520

chapters: 7/18 (~92% written)

Summary:

“Connie, our boys are having their birthdays this week,” began Frances, the scent of baby powder and cigarette smoke in her nose as Connie pulled back. Green eyes curious, Connie kept hold of Frances as she waited for the rest, their hands clutched tight. Frances took a deep breath. “Have you thought about keeping our boys together? Betrothing them?” “What, to sisters?” Frowning, Connie looked up, clearly scrolling through a mental list of all the sisters suitable for their boys. Get it out there, Frances. She cleared her throat. “No, to each other.”

Universe 3: Arlo Givens A+ Parenting || in every universe || Boyd fastens a morality chain on Raylan that is so unbreakable

[justifiedsource]

JUSTIFIED S05E04

[gold--cloud]

Eat with caution❗️

I drew them last year but I couldn't Tag them then……

[acorrespondence]

@freekicks Oh man I have lots; so many that I’m making this a new post so I don’t clog up that poor person’s replies with 50 messages, haha! Basically, it’s an expansion on the idea that everyone has headcanons/canon details that are absolutely integral to their enjoyment of the story and any transformative works based on it (hard), and headcanons/canon details that they’re fond of but could still get pretty much unaltered enjoyment out of a fic that contradicts them (soft). Obviously all these are just opinions and what I get out of the story isn’t and shouldn’t have to be the same as what anyone else gets out of it.

One thing that sort of falls in the middle of the headcanon/canon divide is Raylan’s age when his mother died. The show contradicts itself on this point several times, and so it’s sort of fungible. I personally find the idea that Raylan’s mother died when he was very young, like younger than Loretta, while it may serve the parallels between them, to be much less compelling than the idea that she died later. It’s just so much more… boring for a character whose mother died when he was ten or so to have a gross misrepresentation of who she was as a person in his mental image of her. It’s much more compelling to me if he held onto that despite direct evidence to the contrary that he was old enough to understand. Of course he’d forget the hatchet story if it happened when he was eight. If it happened when he was eighteen, that opens up a much realer possibility that he just straight up repressed it, which is fascinating. Also, I don’t think it makes sense if he grew up with Helen in the house for the second half of his life there. To me that doesn’t really jive with their current relationship. (And on a less story-driven note, I am fascinated by the idea that, if Raylan’s mother died when he was thirty, he might not have attended her funeral. Because part of him knew it would challenge the version of her he had to remember in order to maintain his black and white perception of the world.)

Obviously, the mine and what it represents is a necessary component (though the time and place less so��my Old Guard au places them in the miners’ strikes of the 30s, and I’ve read a wonderful fic where the mine in question was on a different planet entirely. However, it does have to be placed in Harlan, or whatever approximation of Harlan fits the broader setting). The boys and their relationships with their daddies is another nonnegotiable for me. Specifically, the way they grew up; different times and causes of death for Bo and Arlo can work just as well. If Raylan and Boyd don’t meet until they’re established adults, that immediately kills my interest. Their rich history is so integral to why I’m drawn to the ship in the first place. It’s a hard sell for me to have Boyd leave or Raylan stay directly after the mine, but I’ve been known to make an exception if the story is compelling enough and doesn’t sacrifice characterization.

I think Boyd’s criminal history is important, though the nature of it less so. And even more important is the fact that Boyd never really makes it big as a criminal—making him some kind of fief lord of crime makes him much less interesting to me. His plans only succeed inasmuch as he always manages to survive their unraveling. I think it’s important that he’s spent time incarcerated. I’m not a huge fan of stories where they meet again outside of Harlan and never go back, it takes away the central tension between them and the place that made them that Raylan so struggles with and Boyd embraces so wholly, which for me is a really interesting part of their relationship, this dichotomy. I also don’t care for stories that give them a ton of good friends outside each other, or casual friends who actually know them and hang out with them—they’re too big of assholes for that. Of course, this doesn’t include the characters they’re close with in canon; I love Raylan and Rachel’s friendship, in particular, and their understanding of each other despite their vast superficial differences is fascinating. I guess I should say instead that I don’t buy either of them having typical friendships, period. They’re just too weird and fucked up for that. They trauma bonded at nineteen and it continues to be one of the most important relationships in either of their lives. Winona puts up with Raylan’s relational weirdness for love; no one is doing that for their drinking buddy. So they may have close friendships, but they don’t look the way you’d expect.

I’d never make their relationship uncomplicatedly sweet and unfraught, or sand down the kind of feral edges of it, and I don’t think they’d be much for traditional PDA—I just love the way in canon the physical (and otherwise) manifestations of their intimacy are so outside of what’s expected from buddies OR lovers. In the same vein, I don’t love it when Raylan goes crazy with the terms of endearment, because he doesn’t use them much with his love interests in canon. I have him use them with the girls in heavy heart more as verbal tics he picked up after spending too much time around Boyd, who LOVES to use them, plus I think he models at least some of his displays of parental affection after Helen, who canonically calls him “honey”. I’m fine with Boyd throwing endearments around liberally; I just don’t do it in my own fics because I love the way in canon he twists Raylan’s name itself into almost an endearment. He just can’t stop saying it every other sentence, so why would he give up the chance to say it by replacing it with another word? Plus, it fits in with how weird they are about each other in general.

More broadly, I have never really enjoyed full aus (based on any story) that don’t try to approximate at least the broader beats of place and history from canon, but I really really love stories that manage it. I respect authors who can sort of map canon onto a completely different stage, like the space au mentioned above, so much. I hope that I manage that at least somewhat with catching bullets.

That’s all the big ones I can think of at the moment, though I’m sure there’s more I’ve forgotten (most of the rest fall more under ic-ness vs ooc-ness, which is harder to articulate; “what makes them themselves?” is a much more difficult question). Ultimately, I think probably a lot of these come across through cross-referencing both of my WIPs—basically, if it shows up in both, there’s a very good chance it’s a nonnegotiable for me, and if it changes between the two, then I can obviously live without it.