#rust cohle x reader fluff

[haveyouanytime]

omg im obsessed with your rust domestic blurbs pls anything with rust braiding reader's hair

not even going to lie... i took a month because i was stuck on a different ask just for it to barely click yesterday... i could answer asks out of order. i wish i was joking i'm very embarrassed ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) anyway more old dog rust !!! <333

Often, you felt like the Louisiana heat got to you like no other. It took a long while to get used to the sheen of sweat that seemed to linger on your skin like an unmoveable force. Hot and humid summers were foreign to you, and it was only then that you missed your cooler Alaskan summer. 

Swimming in the lake was an option, so was standing under the garden hose or the sprinklers. Any and all options led to a reasonable conclusion, a nice shower. The soap and water were like a baptism, washing away any stickiness from your overheated skin, leaving you feeling anew and smelling like lavender (or cedarwood, if you decided to use Rust’s soap). 

But more often than not, the best conclusion was being fresh out of the shower and walking to the living room, finding Rust nursing his usual beer, sitting with his legs in a dominating spread as a black and white movie played on your small TV. His hair was down, a rare sight only you were gifted. His dirty golden locks going a little ways past his shoulders, and it was only a matter of time before he asked you to give him a little trim. His hair tie sat on the wrist of his hand holding the beer, the other holding the back of the couch. He seemed so relaxed, and you hesitated moving to him in hopes of giving him a moment more of the relaxation he deserved but often rejected. 

The creak of the floor gave you away, making Rust turn his head to you. You stood in the doorway to the living room, only in in a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt that was stretched out at the collar, your hair still wet with a few droplets falling onto the shirt. He smirked at the sight, looking at you from over his left shoulder. 

“C’mere, baby,” He croons, his voice raspy from the cigarettes and dark liquor. He places his beer on the neighboring side table as you walk over, perching yourself in his lap. With your legs thrown across his, your arm moving around his back and his holding onto your hip, both of you fell into the familiar embrace. A weary smile pulled at his lips, and his hand moved off of the back of the couch to run through your damp hair, exposing the expanse of your neck. He took advantage of that, leaning in and placing a few soft kisses on the exposed skin. You couldn’t help but let out a small, airy giggle as the kisses traveled down to your collarbones the stretched shirt left bare. 

“Tsk, what’s so funny?” He asked, pulling away to look up at you. It might’ve been the fact that he was in a good mood, or it was the lighting of the room, or the ambiance of the old romantic movie on the TV, but you couldn’t help but admire Rust for a moment. His strong nose. How the warm light of the lamp turned his blue eyes the shade of an unnameable, alluring blue. His cheekbones, his lips, the loose strands of hair that fell in front of his face. 

“Your mustache’s tickly,” You smile, looking down at Rust. You run your own fingers through his hair to push it back, abandoning it at the nape of his neck to brush your pointer finger against his mustache, smoothing it out against the top of his lip. “Gonna need a trim soon, hm?” 

“We’ll worry about that later,” He answered, holding your wrist to give your fingertip a playful nip with his teeth. His hands move to hold your waist, lowly speaking, “C’mon, baby.” You moved with his gentle lead, him scooting back and letting you sit between his spread legs on the sparse space on the couch, your back facing his chest. You felt a smile pull at your lips again, already feeling his fingers moving through your hair. He gently pulled your hair back, forming it all it a small ponytail before his fingers spread it carefully into three parts. 

You remembered the first time he braided your hair, the surprise that you felt that a man so rugged and masculine as he could give you a nice, neat braid. He first gave an excuse of working on the fishing docs in Alaska and something about ropes. It was a few times later that he spoke of his daughter, about how he used to braid her hair. It struck a cord within you, an aching, twinging reminder in your chest of his life far, far before you. The man you loved was an enigma, his heart and mind a labyrinth you wanted to spend years inside of just to truly know him. 

“You’re awful quiet tonight,” Rust spoke up, his fingers moving languidly through your hair to dance it into a nice braid. “You’re normally chirpin’ my ear off, pretty girl.” 

“Just thinking,” You softly answer, adjusting the loose shirt on your shoulders as your eyes rise to the TV. The black and white movie showed a couple embracing at a train station, kissing the way they did in old movies. 

“Careful with that, now,” He playfully cautioned, reaching the end of your hair and carefully looping his dark hair tie around the ends to hold your braid in place. “Don’t get lost up there.” 

“I want to get lost up there,” You answer, turning on his lap again to sit sideways and placing a light tap on his forehead. 

“No, you don’t, pretty girl.” He answered, his voice losing it’s playful edge. He gently holds your wrist, carefully holding you on his lap. “I’ll give you a few peeks now and then, but I don’t want you to travel too far.” 

You couldn’t help but smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing a soft peck on his lips, his mustache tickling your upper lip again. “I’ll take those. Maybe I can convince you to give me a few more peeks.” 

“I know a way you can convince me,” He grinned, scooping you up in his arms. You can’t help but laugh, feeling his mustache tickle your jawline as he carried you through your small house, your arms holding into him just as tight as he held you. 

[midwestgal66]

far from any road (Rust Cohle x F!Reader)

(reader is 21 and rust is 35, takes place season 1)

song rec: train song by vashti bunyan :)

word count: 3.1k

*ding ding*

The sound came from the market door opening. You were sitting in your usual spot, on the stool behind the counter you came to know after the past few months working there. It smelled like rustic wood, cigarettes, and leather all around. 

You looked up from the crossword puzzle you had been working on since your usual morning shift started, 7am. Walking in with his eyes straight ahead, already looking done with his day at 9 in the morning, was your favorite customer: Detective Rust Cohle.

You sat up straight and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Goodmornin', Mr. Cohle," you say in a casual voice. 

His eyes shift over to you, eye bags present. "Hey. How's it goin'?" He responds, his body slightly turned toward you, not waiting for a response before approaching and looking at the cigarette options stocked behind you. 

"Goin' alright. What's it gonna be today, Camels again?" you say with a slight tinge of humor in your voice, trying to uplift his mood. All you wanted to do was to take his mind off of whatever was going on for him that day, the market being a place where you could offer him someone to talk to and feel comfortable around. You knew Rust was pretty closed off, but you were determined to win him over a little.

"Yeah, you know me," he says, eyes meeting yours, picking up on your friendliness. You could've sworn his eyes turned a shade lighter at recognizing how you'd paid attention to his usual purchases. 

"Comin' right up." You get up and turn around, jean shorts and tank top offering him a nice view of your tanned backside as you reach up to grab them off the shelf. You turn back around place them on the counter in front of you, standing before him. 

"Will that be all for today? Can I get you anything else? Cold beer?" you say, just wanting to hear his voice so he can stay a little bit longer. 

"Uh..." 

As you reach down into the cooler where you keep a few beers for yourself by your feet, you hand him one. "It's on the house," you say with a smile as it lands on the counter with a clunk. 

"Well. Thank you, I appreciate that." 

"Of course," you say with a sweet smile. "I know what you do for this town Mr. Cohle..." you look down. "It doesn't go unnoticed. Least not by me," you say, trying to engage him further. You look up at him and find his blue eyes boring into the counter below you.

"Yeah, well, pretty sure whoever's behind all this isn't noticing much. But thanks anyways," he answers, eyes flitting back up to meet your rosy cheeked face. Maybe you imagined it, but you could've sworn the blues of his eyes flicked down to your lips for a moment.

"I'm here if you need anyone to talk to, y'know. Just swing by. I'm here five days a week," you say, tilting your head, hands on the counter, offering him your best comforting smile.

He reaches for the cigarettes and the beer before saying, "Alright then sweetheart, I'll see you around. Stay safe." He turns and heads out.

"I will," you call out after him. "See you around, I hope," you say to yourself with a wide grin once he's out the door, proud of your little interaction with him. Did he just call me sweetheart...? You thought as you felt butterflies in your gut. Rust, the man you are.

..............................................................................................................................

The week went by quickly, and to your disappointment, Rust didn't exactly show up at the store. But as you thought about it further, and instead of taking it personally, you realized he was probably just swamped with work.

As your shift ended on a Thursday afternoon at 2:00pm, you gathered your purse and headed home on your bike. The warm, dry breeze flowed through your hair as you rode along the dirt road to your humble abode.

You lived with your roommate, Cassie. She wasn't home, and you knew she wouldn't be until late at night. You went to make yourself some iced lemon water and brought your little radio out to the back porch to listen to some music as you sat back and thought about Rust.

His hands grabbing the cigarette pack, the way his veins showed on his hand when he strained his arm to open the door when he left. His tanned skin, disheveled hair, tired eyes, and all you thought was: I could fix him. You giggled to yourself at that last thought. Rust didn't need fixing, he just needed someone who understood his complicated character and unpopular opinions. Or someone to hold him at night, you thought. That's when your thoughts traveled further...

Your hand caressing his cheek, a soft moonlit glow illuminating both your features in the early hours of the morning. Your fingers gripping his back muscles, his hot breath in your ear, the sweat trickling down his forehead as he collapses on you...

Okay. Calm down, you told yourself. You've had a couple interactions and you're fantasizing about him already.

After attempting to read a book and painting your toenails red, you needed to get out of the house again. It was around 5:00pm, and the temperature and lighting was begging you to take a walk outside.

You put on your ratty cowboy boots, color fading, and slipped on a simple linen white dress with straps. You liked the way the fabric came down and fluttered against your mid-thighs in the wind. You grabbed a brown bag to put your wallet in case you bought something and headed out, locking the door.

With nothing really on your mind, other than the smoking detective that for some reason you craved like nothing else, you head out by the side of the old road, fields on your left and right that went on forever.

After what seemed like 20 minutes, you came up to an old gas station you knew well. You went inside, nodding politely at the man working there whose eyes were already boring into your ass. You quickly went to the refrigerated drinks aisle and got your favorite: a peach Snapple iced tea. You walked up to the register and greeted him politely, trying your best to ignore his crooked smile and creepy comments.

"Thank you, have a nice day," you said as you grabbed your change and drink and turned toward the door.

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said with a grin that made you uncomfortable. The way he said it was nowhere near how Rust did. You just wished he was here.

You walked outside into the barren landscape toward the bench on the side of the building. You sat down and opened the drink, slurping down the sweet liquid. You reached into your purse and pulled out some vanilla lip balm, and that's when you saw it.

Coming down the road, a 1997 Ford F250HD XL pickup, red paint glistening in the evening sun rays. Rust's car.

You put away the lip balm in your purse and shuffled to smooth down your hair. Sipping your tea, your eyes glanced over at his truck approaching the station, watching his dark silhouette get out of the car in his work uniform, hair once again disheveled, eyes, once again looking exhausted. But your stomach ached for him. As he filled up the car, you wondered if he would notice you. Would it seem too desperate if you got up and went up to him?

Your leg bounced in indecisiveness. But before you could make a decision, the greasy man working at the register walked outside, side glancing Rust. Rust looked back, giving him a dirty look, almost like he could already tell what kind of man he was without even talking to him. You sat back in the bench, trying to look the other way and focus on your nails rather than looking his way.

"Hey there honey," the man's voice came out in a drawl. "You look pretty lonely out here by yourself... why don't ya come inside? We could have a good time together..." he said.

Heart now beating faster, you replied, "Um, I'm alright out here, but thank you." You immediately felt uneasy.

"C'mon now, don't be like that... It's real lonely in there," he said in return as his dirty, eager hand reached down to touch your hair. You jerked back and stood up off the bench, wide eyed and not sure how to tell him 'no' in a way he could comprehend.

But before you could formulate any sort of incoherent mumble, a tall figure appeared behind the stocky man. Your slightly scared eyes moved up to meet those unmistakable blue eyes.

"Everything ok over here?" said Rust. The man turned around and looked him up and down, recognizing the detective's uniform, grumbling out, "Yeah, everything's fine here. Why, is there a problem or somethin'? I ain't done anything wrong," he answered, a bit of sass in his voice.

You slowly took a step back but the grump noticed and whipped his head back around. "Now where do you think you're goin' doll?"

You opened your mouth to answer but Rust's response came first. "I think she's specified she does not want to talk to you anymore. How about you just head on back inside? Register's gettin' cold."

The man gaped at him and physically huffed before walking back inside. Rust eyes moved to you, seeing you looking a mix of concerned and relieved at his presence. You looked back up at him with a grateful expression.

"Hey, thanks for that. Sorry about him," you said with a sarcastic chuckle, your voice still slightly shaken as your eyes flitted down to the dirt you were playing with on the toe of your boot.

Rust could tell you were nervous to be talking to him, but he didn't understand why when it was just him. "Don't be sorry," he said with that deep southern accent you loved so much. "He needed to be told off. Not your fault."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words and looked back up at his face. His tanned skin looked too good bathed in sunlight.

"Well, thanks again. I should get home now anyway. Getting late," you said, fiddling with the ends of your white dress.

"You need a ride?" he asked.

Once again, you felt butterflies in your stomach at the thought of being in the passenger's seat with him driving, strong hands gripping the wheel as you fought the urge to grab his face and kiss him.

"Uh... I-I mean, it's not too far a walk from here," was all you could stutter out.

The corner of Rust's mouth twitched up for half a second, amused at your shyness. "C'mon, let me drive you home. It's no trouble."

"Alright. That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Cohle." You started walking forward and the two of you headed to his truck.

His frozen heart seemed to warm at your soft spoken voice, your politeness. So many nights he lay awake thinking of the horrors he encounters on the force, what a horrible man he must be for the things he has to do. He always thought of himself as too powerful, a cop, who could do terrible things to people, with immunity. But your presence brought him back down to earth. He wasn't sure why, but all of a sudden, he felt an urge to protect you from all the gas-station men of the world. From the evil that he knew lurked in the marshlands of Southern Louisiana. You didn't deserve to be exposed to the same things he did.

He wordlessly went and opened the passenger's side door for you. You caught his eye and smiled the sweetest smile he'd ever seen. His face remained hard as stone, but his eyes smiled for him. He shut the door and walked around to his side.

Wow. I'm in his car right now. He's driving me home. Is this real? You thought. You brought your knees together and put your hands in your lap, turning your head to look out the window as Rust drove away from the station you likely weren't coming back to.

After a few moments of silence, you asked, "Mind if I open the window?"

He glanced over at your soft skin, your long hair. "No, go ahead," he said.

You opened the window and felt the warm air hit your face, sticking your hand out to wave it around in the wind like you'd done since you were a kid.

"Y'know if you lay your hand flat against the wind and then slowly tilt it up, you feel how a plane takes off? Like, your hand is the plane, and it's lifting off 'cause the wind is pushing it up," you say with a soft giggle at the end at your childish comment.

Once again Rust felt that feeling of protectiveness. You were too sweet to let any harm get to you. For the first time in a long time, he smiled. At your words. "Yeah, I'd assume that's what the plane would feel at that time," his smile not yet fading.

You giggled again quietly before tilting your head toward him with a smile, hand still waving around outside. "C'mon, try it."

"You want me to try?" He said, still smiling softly at your innocence, eyes glancing between your face and the road.

"Yeah, c'mon Rust."

He rolled down his window and stuck his hand out. He waved it around, flat and then up, echoing your movements. "Yeah, I'm definitely feeling pretty aerodynamic right now." You laughed softly in response.

Both of your hands waving around in the wind, you felt better than you had in a while. Finally sitting with this gorgeous man next you, you felt like you'd manifested this moment.

You put your hand back inside and he brought his back over to the wheel, resting his right hand on the gear stick between the two of you. You tilted your body toward him, eyes raking over his form as he looked out at the road in front of you.

All of a sudden, in a rush of boldness, you reached your left hand over to his, your fingertips grazing over his rough hand on the gear stick. he flinched slightly at your movement, not used to the physical touch. But one look from his eyes at your delicate form, doe eyes looking back up at him sweetly, he didn't move his hand. He actually enjoyed the touch. Wanted more of it.

You continued to trace patterns up his hand, tracing the path of his veins. When you felt like he wouldn't resist, you gently picked up his strong, heavy hand and placed it on your left thigh, just above your knee. His hand hovered slightly in hesitation before relaxing it on your warm, smooth skin.

He looked over at you again to see you smiling up at him, reassuring him that it was okay, that you wanted his hand there. His grip tightened ever so slightly.

Then, he spoke words you never expected to come out of his reserved mouth. "I like that dress you're wearin'. You look... good."

You felt the heat rising up to your throat and cheeks again. "Thanks, Rust. I'm glad you like it." Then, feeling another surge of confidence, you said, "Might just have to wear it more often, just for you." You met his eyes and he smirked in response, looking down at his hand on your thigh.

"I wouldn't mind that at all." His hand then began to gently move up and down your thigh, making sure to not go past the hem of your dress, and you tilted your head slightly back in response.

The rest of the car ride stayed like that, and when you got closer to your house, you directed him on where to go. His hand didn't leave your thigh, and you were glad. I want to be his support system. Someone he can come home to and just lay out all his frustrations and feelings on. Someone he can touch wherever he wants. I want to comfort him, you thought. You were not gonna let him go after this car ride. You were going to stick by him.

As he approached your driveway, you said to him, "Thanks again for the car ride, Mr. Cohle. You didn't have to."

"Of course. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to someone like you," he said, eyes still looking at the road, but you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

"Not if you're here," you said back with a gentle smile.

He turned to you for a moment, your words settling in. So she wants me around, he thought. Yes, I want you around, you thought, as if you could read his mind.

He pulled up in front of your house, finally taking his hand off your thigh to turn the car off, leaving a cold spot where his warm skin had just enveloped.

You turned to him in this moment of silence, and leaned up to his heavenly face. His features took on a form of surprise as you kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll see you around, Rust. Don't be shy to stop in the store. Those Camels won't buy themselves," you said as you got out of the car. Standing outside on the curb, one hand on the door, dress and hair blowing in the wind, you said, "Thanks for the ride," for what seemed to be the tenth time.

"Only for you, sweetheart."

"Bye, Rust."

You closed the door and left him still following your form up into the house. I can't wait to tell Cassie about this, you thought.

As he drove back to his lonely house, he wished you would accompany him one of these cold nights. He realized that no matter how many times he told himself he was better off alone, you might actually be someone he wouldn't mind having around.

[morgandr]

Imagine:

Your co-worker, Rust calming you down as someone got under your skin causing you to lash out.

——————————————————————————-

(NOT MY GIF!)

(Rustin (Rust) Cohle X Reader)

——————————————————————————-

(TAGS)

[reds-writings]

sunday kind of love

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: finally a bit of pure fun and fluff! this kinda applies to the jealousy, jealousy universe but it can totally be read as a standalone! requests are open so hit my inbox if you so choose! enjoy!

word count: 1.3k ish (a lil treat)

warnings: light cursing but not much else! the ending felt kinda weak so i apologize for that lol (minors begone!)

“Y’know…today is supposed to be one of rest…given that it’s a Sunday n’ all. Just in case you might’ve forgotten.” You remarked in your half-drowsy state, your porch swing swaying idly as you lay draped across it like some lazy house cat. 

The day had you hotter than a sinner in church. The sun sat high and bright in the sky, certainly having no mercy on all the melting folk of Louisiana. Even the breeze that had the old wind chimes you’d hung up ages ago tinkling idly in its gusts was relentless in temperature, offering no aid to your sickeningly sticky skin. With the way you’d been running the AC and numerous plugged-in fans in your house over the past few days, you were sure to rack up one nasty-looking electric bill in due time. Even with all that operating nearly 24/7 it hadn’t made much of a difference in the old rickety house. You’d give just about anything right now if it meant not being so grossly miserable and sweaty in all the worst places. 

The only reason you weren’t inside the slightly cooler haven that was your home was because of a certain pigheaded man who decided today would be the day he busied himself with fixing up your lawn. How ridiculous. One offhand mention of the front yard being a little unruly and your flowers looking a bit lackluster had Rust up and working as if you were Pavlov and he the infamous dog. There was no fighting him when he set his mind on something so you assigned yourself the role of making sure he didn’t drop dead from heat exhaustion like a fool. 

“I’m serious, Rustin. We should head on inside. Ain’t no need to get all of this done today.” You called out again, tipping your head to the side and looking over your sunglasses to see that he had now moved on from getting all the lawn clippings into a trash bag to planting some new flowers he claimed would thrive during the season. The way the muscles under the tan skin of his arms moved and the look of utter focus painted on his handsome features had you smiling something horrendously lovesick. Despite his bullish nature, you knew this was just one of his many underlying ways of showing that he cared for you. Loved you even. You could say that now after certain admissions had been made some nights ago and you found yourself no less giddy after the fact as you thought on it what had to be a million times over at this point. 

Some Linda Rondstat tune played from the old radio that sat propped up on the porch’s railing, causing your bare feet to tap in tandem with the country star’s divine voice. Rust continued to work in silence as you started humming, sitting up to then swing your legs off the bench’s edge. 

You flipped your sunglasses to lay stationary at the top of your head, “I’m feelin’ awfully neglected right now, darlin’.”

That had him finally snorting, “I’m sure you’ll live.” 

“You don’t know that. If I were to keel over right this minute cause a certain cowboy won’t give me the time of day, I bet you there’d be some sorta scientific explanation behind it and it’d have you feelin’ just awful. Gutted even, I’m tellin’ you.” You wagged a finger at him as you went on your theatrical tangent. You saw him shaking his head, continuing to work as if that could hide his growing smile from you. 

“You find this funny but I’m bein’ dead serious. I’ve got one of the most handsomest men in Louisiana on my lawn and he’s too busy diggin’ holes in my garden. Those flowers are gettin’ more felt up than your poor girl over here and that don’t sit quite right with me-”

“Quit it, woman.” He cut in with feigned exasperation though you knew such outward declarations of flirting made by you had him more than a bit flustered. You could live out this whole scene forever if you could. It might’ve been hotter than hell but the landscape was lush and beautiful. The weeping willow taking up a good amount of space on the front of your property danced in the light afternoon wind. The sunlight was hitting everything just right and it had you grateful to call this all yours. The man opposing you only added to the fuzzy feeling dancing in your veins. Snapping out of your sappy thoughts of admiration you saw Rust finally get up from his position and make way towards the garden hose.

You huffed out a dramatic sigh as you forced yourself up and made your way down the weathered porch steps. He stood over the new thatch of colorful flora, thumb half over the hose’s nozzle to spray down his hard work of the day. 

“If I quit it then just how else am I supposed to bug you with my affections?”

“I couldn’t tell ya. Shame that is.” He drawled, seemingly amused with feeding into your impatient antics.

Eyes squinting at him, you tried to fight the quirking of your lips as you ambled on over closer to him. 

“You must got some hidden thing for the works of sadism, mister. Leavin’ me hangin’ for hours on end with no-” You nearly shrieked at the sudden cold of the hose’s stream being flicked at you. The offendant stood opposite of you, too smug for your liking as he took in your half-soaked form. The old tank top and denim cutoffs you had on already left little to the imagination prior to his attack, you could only imagine the form of indecency you found yourself in now. 

“Oh, that’s it. C’mere you little- HEY!” You screeched as the cold spray hit you again. The momentum with which you charged at him had water flying between you both when he got you again. You wrestled each other for the hose, causing more than enough of a mess in the process. The joy in your laughter had Rust’s chest squeezing almost painfully. The stretch of his grin felt foreign to him but he couldn’t manage to control himself. 

As you made numerous attempts to jump up and snatch the tubing from his grip you overestimated your step and slipped on the newly muddied grass, causing you both to topple over. Your belly ached from how hard you found yourself laughing. You almost felt like a child again, drenched beyond belief with streaks of mud and grass finding a new home on your body. A few deep rumbles sounded from the depths of Rust’s broad chest as he pushed some of the sopping-wet hair from your face, looking at you as if you were the only thing in the world that made sense to him. As if you were all the answers to his universe wrapped up into one person. The intensity had you knocking his chin with your knuckles softly and wiping some water from his face. 

“You’re an ass, y’know that?”

“And you’re one sore loser.” 

“Loser?! I’ll have you know I managed to take your lanky ass down in one fell swoop-” 

You were silenced by the sudden press of his kiss. It was hard to reciprocate as you felt yourself smiling harder but he persisted despite the clumsiness of it all. Moments like these were something you’d never take for granted. Any chance to see the man in front of you free of all of his persistent burdens, even if just for a moment, were times you could hold on to forever. You felt nothing short of lucky that he let you in. That you were able to cross paths and choose each other in this life. 

You had a feeling there were probably other lifetimes in which you danced this similar dance as different people or different beings. Destined to always find your way back to each other come hell or high water.  Damn. Rust's daily cosmic ramblings and otherworldy mumbo jumbo were starting to really get to you.

Though you couldn't help but wonder if he happened to feel it too.

a/n: late night post but we love silliness and laughter! as always feedback is greatly appreciated! hopefully, this wasn't too ooc!

[lucyswinter]

masterlist!

(i love this gif because it looks like roo is saying tampon hehe)

smut :❤️‍🔥

fluff : 💗

angst : 💔

unfinished : ❤️‍🩹

*all requests that i receive that i WILL do are confirmed below with the “❤️‍🩹” emoji. if you want to check if im working on your request, look for that!*

jonathan crane

onions tears and caring kisses (💗)

jonathan crane x sick!reader (💗)

jonathan crane baddie gf hcs (💗)

untitled jonathan crane oneshot (❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥)

cillian murphy

ocean blue eyes (💗)

cilly comforting you after a nightmare (💗)

spencer reid

spencer reid crush hcs (💗)

snow day (💗)

aaron hotchner

hotch dating hcs (💗)

untitled hotch oneshot (❤️‍🩹)

hotch dating hcs pt 2 (💗)

neil lewis

neil lewis with a girlfriend who likes horror movies (💗)

the sleepover (❤️‍🩹)

robert fischer

untitled robert fischer oneshot (❤️‍🩹)

rust cohle

untitled rust cohle oneshot (❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥)

neil perry

untitled neil perry oneshot (❤️‍🔥)

ian duncan

ian duncan dating hcs (💗)

[haveyouanytime]

If requests are still open anything rust cohle pls!!

finally free from the shackles of online college courses… failed my polisci class but its okay bc x readers exist LOL!!! i’m so so so obsessed with beat-up old dog rust and lounging around an apartment with him and smoking a cigarette and being ethel cain core lol!!! this is all heavily inspired by ethel cain’s look in crush lol also i imagined rust’s apartment to look pretty close to his '95 one

౨ৎ daily click to help palestine 🍉

You originally found Rust in Alaska. You were waitressing at a shitty diner, and he caught your eye after he ordered a beer at 10 in the morning. He came back that night, and you found yourself in the backseat of his car, moaning his name you had only learned an hour before. 

Rust.  

After that, you couldn’t help but form a relationship. He had expected quick fun, but he didn’t mind that he couldn’t shake you loose. That’s how you ended up going with him back to Louisiana, ditching your thick socks for tiny shorts to lounge around Rust���s apartment in. 

It was small, rustic, and hotter than hell. Rust was prone on having little to no decoration or furniture, but you had added your own personal touch here and there. You didn’t need silver and gold, but a shared space that reflected you and Rust added a sense of domesticity you had searched for for years. 

You had the window open, a cigarette between your lips as you took languid, slow drags. In a pair of tiny, denim shorts and a bikini top, you rested your forearms against the windowsill, watching the dry and bright horizon as you waited for Rust to come home. He had a bad habit of sleeping in his storage unit, and you often wondered just what was in there, but you knew better than to bug him too much. 

You were putting out your cigarette in the ashtray when you heard the familiar jingle of keys in the doorway. The door opened, and you heard Rust before you saw him. A quiet groan, the heavy shuffle of boots, the door closing with a notable slam behind him. You turned, smiling with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you approached Rust. 

“Hey, you old dog.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. He lazily grabs your waist, his large hands kneading your soft, exposed skin. 

“Where’s the rest of your clothes, baby?” He asks with his gruff, drawled voice, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He was tired, his body aching from sleeping in a twin-sized cot in a cement room, his head throbbing with the endless papers and images of the case that haunted him every day. 

You smiled, a faux innocent shrug pulling up one of your shoulders. “S’not like Alaska here. It’s too hot for too many clothes.” 

He huffed at your response, giving a playful pinch to your waist with a half-done grin. “I’m gonna shower,” He grunted, a small sigh slipping past his lips, “then how about we go for some drinks?” 

You knew what that meant. He had work, and he was inviting you to sit in that dark dive with him as faceless customers shifted in and out. You didn’t mind, it was nice quality time to talk his ear off and learn little cryptic things about him as he responded. It was just as nice to watch him roll up his sleeves and groan as he cracked his neck and watch as the occasional liquid dripped from his lips as he drank, slowly rolling down his neck. You nodded, placing a kiss on his lips, feeling the familiar tickle of his mustache against your upper lip. 

As he showered, the bedroom filled with the constant rush of the running water and the croon of a singer playing from your radio. The cross that represented the death of sins hung above your shared bed, watching as you replaced your bikini top for a blouse. You had brushed through your hair and lit a cigarette as Rust came out from the bathroom, a towel hanging low from his lips. 

You watched with a coquettish gaze as he put on his briefs and a pair of blue jeans, an angelic haze effecting your vision of him as your cigarette burned between your lips. He groaned as he sat on the edge of the bed, craning his head from side to side in an attempt to soothe the tension that formed. With a smile, you grabbed your hairbrush and a loose hairtie, moving to sit behind him on your bed. You placed down the brush, grabbing his towel to begin drying his hair. 

You were a bit careless with it, rubbing the towel against his head in an attempt to dry his brown hair that turned shades darker with its wetness. He chuckled, grabbing the towel from your hands and swatting your side with it. 

“Gonna yank me baldheaded if you keep that up, baby.” He chuckled, watching as you squeaked with the wet fabric smacking against your skin. He tossed it on the bed, and you replaced it with your hairbrush. You removed the cigarette from your lips, leaning down to place it between Rust’s, which he accepted with no complaints. With a noticeable gentleness, you began to brush through his hair, smoothing any forming knots and scratching against his scalp in a relieving way. He couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter shut, a small groan slipping past his lips. You tied his hair into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and tucked loose strands of hair behind his ears, and his left hand reached up, taking your wrist in a gentle hold. 

“You’re the only good thing in this fucked up world,” He grunted, taking your hand and placing kisses on your fingertips. His right hand held the cigarette, the smoke dancing beside the two of you. 

You smiled, your fingers moving to cup his jaw, letting him place kisses onto your palm as you began to place your own gentle kisses onto his broad shoulder. Your free hand abandoned the hairbrush, your fingertips dancing along the intricate ink of the tattoo on his forearm. Another groan slipped past his lips with the smoke of the cigarette as your kisses slowly traveled up the curve of his neck. 

“Keep kissing me like that, pretty girl,” He drawled out, his right hand traveling behind to knead at the soft of your thighs, “‘n’ I might have to call in sick to work.” 

You smiled, placing one last kiss on his neck before answering, “I charmed my way into free drinks, you old dog. I’d like to get them.” You left a playful, light bite on his shoulder before crawling off the bed and walking out of the bedroom. 

“Brat.” He huffed, shaking his head with a smile as he stood to finish getting ready. He’d make you pay later, and you both knew it.

[haveyouanytime]

obsessed with ur rust domestic blurb we need more of that vibe

another blurb for old dog rust :3 | cw: implied age gap (reader 18+), smoking cigarettes, literally all about cigarettes, very short :( and not proofread ... living life on the edge

Rust hated that you smoked. It was a social habit you formed back in high school from sneaking out during lunch, wanting to be cool with the other kids that dreamed of leaving Alaska right out of graduation. However, once you got into a relationship with Rust, smoking became almost a constant thing. 

It started off with sharing cigarettes. You’d go out with him for dinner, finding yourself outside and leaning against the brick wall with the Louisiana air murkily settling over you. You’d look up at Rust as he lit his cigarette, watching with a doe-eyed look as if he had put the moon in the sky. He took a deep puff, exhaling with a quiet groan and pushing the plume of smoke out into the muggy air. 

“Can I have some?” You softly ask, your smaller hand reaching out for it. With a chuckle and a small shrug, he hands you the cigarette. 

You take a drag like how your friends taught you in high school, but the accidental tolerance break made the tickle of the strong nicotine too much to handle. You coughed out, your eyes scrunching shut with the unfamiliar tickle in the back of your throat. 

You hear Rust chuckle, his hand moving to rub a circle onto your back. “Not too much now, baby.” You cough, still holding the cigarette as your other hand moves to push at his chest to wordlessly tell him not to laugh. 

Then, you started smoking by yourself. Rust had forgotten his cigarettes at home during one of his shifts at the bar, and your curiosity got the best of you. You coughed again but slowly worked past it, thinking of seventeen-year-old you who could smoke two without even coughing. As it finished, a strange sense of accomplishment came over you, and you didn’t mind it too bad. 

He noticed you’d started to smoke more often, and he felt like he had corrupted you in some way. That guilt had always been a small manifestation deep within him, starting just as your older boyfriend in Alaska. Now he had taken you all the way to Louisiana and got you fixed on cigarettes. 

“You should quit.” He grunts one night, watching as you roll over in bed. The covers hid your exposed body as you grabbed your pack from your nightstand. 

“You first.” You answer, lighting the cigarette with his own that dangled between his own lips. He could admit he hated that he got you to start smoking, but nothing sparked fire in his loins like when you’d lean in, kissing the tips of your cigarettes together to light them. 

After your own budding addiction, Rust became notorious for stealing your cigarettes. The pack in your purse would disappear, and you’d see Rust with a new pack despite never taking the time to stop by the store. Even if you tied your ribbons around them or hid them in your nightstand drawer, you’d find them in the pockets of Rust’s jeans. 

What frustrated you the most, however, was the one’s he’d steal straight from your lips. 

You’d be lounging at home, slowly and carefully applying a bold red to your fingernails. You were taking drags with the cigarette that sat between your lips, the TV playing an old sitcom as background noise. Suddenly, long fingers would appear in your eyesight, snatching the cigarette from between your lips.

“Hey!” You whine, turning to look at him as he stands behind the couch. With a smirk, he looks down at you, taking a long drag of the cigarette he thieved from your own mouth. 

“That has my lipstick on it.” You pout, pointing at the ring of red on the cigarette where Rust’s lips pursed. 

“Baby, I’ve had your lipstick on more parts of me than I can tell.” He drawled back with a raise of his brow. He took a drag of the cigarette, chuckling as he caught the pillow you threw at him.

[reds-writings]

red!! love your writing <3 may i request rust + 11 from the fluff prompts pt2?? whatever timeline you prefer :)

(pairing: rust cohle x jj!reader)

a/n: this is set somewhere in the late 90s in our pairing's journey! just a lil snapshot blurb! enjoy :)

warnings: none really! just some smoochin' and mentions of sucky family

“I gotta get up soon.” You hummed with eyes closed, it was barely morning outside but you’d forgone packing last night for your baby nephew’s christening a couple of hours away no thanks to the man taking up residence in your bed. Given the lengthy drive, you planned on staying at some hotel and venturing back the following morning. 

The family affair was due to start no later than 11 and with how grandiose your parents liked to make intimate matters such as these a thing for others to be envious of you know it was imperative to give them no reason to look down on their noses at you any more than they already did on the regular. You just needed to show up, shoot the shit, and hurry back home to your cowboy.

Speaking of, the lump by your side made no move to set you free so that you may bite the bullet that was this tedious family gathering. 

“M’serious. You hogged me all last night. Means I gotta get goin’ earlier today.”

A small hmph was grumbled but nothing else. Clear that he couldn’t care less.

You snorted and flipped over to hover above his lazing form. Sleep, or a telltale lack thereof, weighed heavy on his lids. Long lashes dusted sullen eyebags but now wasn’t the time to get lost in his fatigued beauty as much as it pained you to pull away. 

“I’ll be back before lunch tomorrow. Hopefully.” You mused as you brushed a finger across a sharp cheekbone. Bleary eyes willed themselves open to get a better look at you, and in the muted hues of the growing dawn, they looked more grey than usual. 

“They don’t deserve you.” His voice came out in a sleep-logged grumble. By now in your relationship, he’d had the displeasure of meeting them, a formality more than anything. It didn’t go unnoticed that he felt a deep-rooted resentment with how they treated you. Your sister was alright but he couldn’t find it in himself to be forgiving toward her blatant ignorance of being the stark beneficiary of your parents’ favoritism. His callousness and silent distaste were enough to have your parents in an uproar once they got you alone. Something about such unbelievable crassness and lack of basic respect for one’s superiors. 

It’s why he didn’t get invited to much. Not that he cared besides not being able to keep a close eye on you when you had to visit the wolves’ den every now and then.

If it were up to him he'd never let them have the chance of having their wretchedness touch you again.

Though, your selflessness could not often be stopped.

“They do not. But I love my nephew and he ain’t done a thing to me so I’ll buck up and endure the rest of them for however long.” You leaned down to capture his lips with yours briefly, his warm palm pressed at your lower back with silent greed. You let him have you for a few moments more before you begrudgingly moved away with a tense stretch, a pop or two sounding from your back. 

“No later than lunch. Cross my heart.” You made an ‘x’ motion with your index and got up. Rust just hummed again, moving his arm to shield his eyes from the sudden light of your ensuite bathroom. You peered cheekily from the doorway, 

“Don’t miss me too much, now.”

He didn’t have the energy to deny it.  

[haveyouanytime]

౨ৎ rules ―

⑅˚₊ i prefer suggestions or prompts, but i will take detailed requests! ⑅˚₊ i'm horrible with messages, but feel free to message me to become mutuals, or to ramble and brainrot-- as long as it's appropriate! ⑅˚₊ ageless blogs or minors please do not interact with my nsfw works! ⑅˚₊ please do not post my writings anywhere else or turn them into ai bots!

౨ৎ characters i will write for ―

⑅˚₊ rick grimes, daryl dixon (the walking dead) ⑅˚₊ jill valentine, leon kennedy (resident evil) ⑅˚₊ jonathan crane (nolanverse batman) ⑅˚₊ joel miller, tommy miller (the last of us, hbo series) ⑅˚₊ abby anderson (the last of us ii, game) ⑅˚₊ vincent renzi (anatomy of a fall) ⑅˚₊ joe kessler, billy butcher, frenchie (the boys) ⑅˚₊ rust cohle (hbo true detective)

౨ৎ what i'm comfortable writing ―

⑅˚₊ i'll only write reader-insert! no ocs, no ships, sorry! ⑅˚₊ fluff, angst, and comfort. i've never written smut, but i can try! ⑅˚₊ LEGAL age gaps, teacher-x-student only if college age, daddy/mommy kinks (not ddlg or age regression) ⑅˚₊ breeding, strap usage (wlw), spanking, manhandling, light biting ⑅˚₊ smoking (cigarettes/weed), drinking ⑅˚₊ some dacryphilia but in the lana del rey pretty when you cry way (if that makes sense) ⑅˚₊ alternate universes! feel free to pitch, but my personal faves are college au, bookstore au, and coffee shop au

౨ৎ what i'm not comfortable writing ―

⑅˚₊ p3dophilia, foot, scat, pee, dub/noncon, incest/stepcest, age play/age regression, ddlg, kidnapping, abuse of any kind, substance abuse or greater than ones stated in 'comfortable writing', anything with self harm or suicidal ideation ⑅˚₊ even if something in your prompt/request is not written above, if i am uncomfortable writing it, i will not post it.