midwestgal66

[midwestgal66]

need that

[midwestgal66]

this man. i'm entering a new phase: Alain Delon.

[midwestgal66]

anyone else have extremely vivid, cinematic, real, emotional, physically straining, complex, sometimes repetitive, story like dreams?

[midwestgal66]

"Christ forgive these bones I've been hiding and the bones I'm about to leave"

[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.

[midwestgal66]

hiiii!! so this is a little anonymous blog i’m starting to write down some little stories and imagines i’ve been coming up with on car rides or in the shower.

some characters/fandoms i love are true detective’s rust cohle, narcos’ javier peña, the last of us’ joel miller, the walking dead (daryl, rick), and star wars’ anakin.

hopefully someone will read!

xoxo