1nsan3

[1nsan3]

deceased 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

[1nsan3]

right so some of you may be wondering where the river cartwright x reader fic is. i promise i’m working on it, it’s just that the word count has ballooned to 10k+ so that’s why it’s taking forever. i apologize but prepare for an absolute behemoth.

[1nsan3]

are you living or are you just jumping from one obsession to the other to run away from yourself

[1nsan3]

Cuddle Buddies

Summary: Spencer misinterprets the meaning of the term friends with benefits – but having a friend who will cuddle with him is, in fact, highly beneficial

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: suggestiveness (referenced/implied sex), embarrassment, awkwardness

Word count: 1k

Author's Note: I wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins FWB writing challenge!

Masterlist

“Tell me, pretty boy. What’s going on with you and her?” Derek teased his coworker while motioning towards your desk.  

Acting like you didn't hear him, you kept your eyes focussed on the paperwork in front of you. But of course you were interested in Spencer’s answer too. For weeks you had been trying to figure out the nature of your relationship (or friendship?) with him. 

“We’re friends,” Spencer said and thought about his own response before adding, “With benefits.” 

Spencer, oblivious as ever, had heard that term before but didn't know its true meaning. The two of you were friends who occasionally cuddled with each other – something Spencer would consider as highly beneficial to the wellbeing for the both of you. 

His words caught the attention of everyone in the room. The snickering and whispering followed the second he finished his sentence. You could no longer pretend you weren't listening as you felt your cheeks heating up.  

“Excuse me?” You squeaked, clearly embarrassed by what he had just stated. 

It was not like you hadn’t thought about it before. In fact, most nights when you ended up cuddled up with Spencer under a blanket while continuing your Doctor Who rewatch, it had crossed your mind. But it had never happened and you weren’t sure why Spencer would lie about it. 

Spencer found your eyes, immediately noticing the horror written all over your face. “Did I say something wrong?”

“We’re not friends with benefits,” you mumbled, still in disbelief about what was happening. 

Derek couldn't hold back his chuckles anymore but JJ seemed to feel sorry for you and chimed in on the conversation. “Spence, I’m not sure you know the actual meaning of that term.”

She stepped closer to him before whispering what you assumed was the correct definition of friends with benefits. Once he realized his mistake, his facial features changed and could only be described as panicked. 

“That's not what I meant,” he stated what already was obvious. To deflect from the awkwardness, he started doing what he was most comfortable with - rambling. “I’m sorry, I just assumed that's what it meant. Our friendship does have benefits though, specifically the cuddling aspect. Did you know that nonsexual physical contact is very common among social animals? There are many health benefits to it, like lowering blood pressure, the release of oxytocin and –”

Your unit chief stepped into the room to interrupt Spencer and finally end your misery. “Guys, we have a new case.”

Spencer had to hold back a sigh of relief that this painfully awkward situation had come to an end. Both of you tried your best to not let it affect your workday, keeping up your professional demeanor in front of your coworkers. But neither of you could hold back the occasional glance at the other. 

It was hard to interpret Spencer’s expression when his eyes met yours. He had an apologetic look but there was also something else. Almost as if he had trouble holding back his thoughts from wandering to places that were completely inappropriate at work. 

You were very familiar with those struggles. 

It didn’t surprise you to hear him knocking on your hotel room door once your workday had come to an end. Spencer was predictable and you knew that he was about to apologize for embarrassing you earlier. 

When you opened the door, you immediately stepped aside to let him into your room. He had already shed his work attire and changed into sweatpants and an old Caltech t-shirt – a look not many people beside you got to see on him. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Spencer finally found the courage to talk. 

“I’m sorry about what I said,” he mumbled. 

You showed him a soft smile and responded, “Yeah, I know.” 

“Are you mad at me?”

The question amused you. To you it was almost impossible to be mad at Spencer. You were aware that he never had any intention of hurting you. In fact, looking back you almost found his innocence and lack of discretion endearing. 

You shook your head. “Of course not.” 

Spencer sighed when you reached out your arms to hug him. He reciprocated the contact, immediately pulling you into his arms and holding you closely against his chest. There were many things left unsaid but talking about your feelings wasn’t really one of your strong suits. So you decided to suggest what the two of you seemed to be most comfortable with. 

You motioned over to your bed and said, “Do you maybe want to stay and watch a movie with me?” 

His smile was genuine when he responded, “Yes, I would love that.”

It was almost like the two of you followed muscle memory when you slipped under the duvet and turned on the TV. You found your place inside Spencer’s arms, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady thumps of his heart. His fingertips gently brushed over your arm, leaving goosebumps on their path. 

Despite the positive effects Spencer explained about cuddling earlier, it was impossible for you to fully relax that night. He noticed it, too. 

“You okay?” He breathed as he turned down the volume of the TV. 

Before you could think about it too long, you heard your mouth spill out the question that had been nagging you all day. “Do you sometimes think about those other, more exciting benefits?” 

Spencer audibly gulped before clearing his throat. Instead of answering your question, he retorted, “Do you?” 

You shifted your position until you sat beside him and said, “Would it be weird if I said yes?” 

It seemed like your confession took him by surprise. Spencer took a moment to think about his response. First his eyebrows furrowed, then his facial features softened again. “It’s not weird. I think about it, too, sometimes.” 

That was all the confirmation you needed to boost your confidence for once. With your hand gently placed on his jaw, you leaned closer to him until you could feel the heat of his breath against your mouth. Spencer didn’t hesitate to close the gap between the two of you, finding your lips in a tender kiss. 

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

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[1nsan3]

River Cartwright x Reader

I wrote this scene to go into the long River x Reader fic I'm writing but it ended up not fitting so I'm just going to post it on it's own!

Rating: G

Words: 405

River shows up at your door absolutely battered and bruised.

“God not again,” you gesture him in and out of the rain.

He smiles at you, but it’s obvious he’s in pain.

“I hope you’ll still sleep with me when I’m covered in blood.” You laugh, handing him an ice pack.

“I think I actually find you more attractive when you’re beaten to a pulp.” A brief glint shines in his eyes as he laughs before wincing in pain.

“I don’t know if that bodes well for me.” You smile and shake your head before grabbing the rubbing alcohol. “This is, um, going to hurt a bit.”

“Yeah I know. Just get it over with,” River winces when you tap the alcohol to his temple, but stays quiet otherwise.

“How’d this happen anyways?” you ask, grabbing a bandage. Tenderly you hold his face still as you bandage his wounds.

“Oh you know, the usual,” he says as he fiddles with the bandages.

“Oi! Leave ‘em alone. I might not be a good agent but I am a decent nurse. Now take this and go lie down.” You hand him some nondescript pills and point him to your couch, settling next to him.

“You’re a good agent,” 

“What?” You’re unsure if you’ve heard him correctly, his speech is mumbled by the fact that he’s clearly been punched in the mouth. 

“I said, you’re a good agent.” This time his message is clear, and it makes you blush but you resist the urge to hide your face.

“Thanks. Not sure what it means coming from you, but thanks.” 

“Oh fuck off,” River laughs. It ends in a wheeze from his bruised ribs but your smile is worth it. The meds must be kicking in because he reaches out to grab your hand, pulling you closer to him. You go willingly, the action spurring a warm feeling in your chest. River is almost never this affectionate with you. You settle your other hand on his stomach, one of the only places he’s not injured. Moving his hand up your arm he settles it at the base of your skull, pulling you to rest in the crook of his neck. You rest your forehead on his collarbone, breathing in the smell of disinfectant and his aftershave. Mostly you’re just glad that River is okay, but you can’t lie and say you aren’t reveling in the attention he’s showing you.

[1nsan3]

For a fluffy River fic maybe have an OC fix him up when he gets back to Slough House a bit worse for the wear. You know he’d hate the fuss of it.

I looooove this!! Just for you lovely, hope you enjoy! 🥰

Stitches

The last horse had bolted at exactly 5.03pm - Standish - she’d at least called out a goodbye on her way past but you were still eyeball deep in the files you’d been working on all day. You assumed that somewhere in the upper echelons of the building Lamb was asleep with his feet up on his desk. You didn’t mind, he didn’t bother you and you didn’t bother him - there was a mutual ignoring which was working well. Head down, get the work done, don’t cause trouble. No one else seemed remotely capable of abiding by that though. Your officemate, River, hadn’t been seen since god knows when (11.06am). You weren’t particularly on speaking terms since the thing you liked to call the incident. Some idiot had suggested drinks after work one night and you’d managed to make a total fool of yourself and were hereby serving a vow of silence. You were one step away from a nunnery. Maybe in the Alps… you could do a great Maria Von Trapp. You absentmindedly hum ‘Climb every Mountain’ while you work. You don’t know when it got dark but the glare of your computer screen is starting to hurt your eyes. You take a break, pressing your palms into your eye sockets. There’s shuffling on the other side of the door and you assume it’s just Lamb. Until the swearing starts. 

“Ow shit fuck shit,” River hisses. You stay rooted to your chair. The vow of silence must be maintained. There’s a clatter of what you think is the first aid kit so you cautiously get to your feet and peer around the door to the kitchen. “You’re still here?” He asks, surprise evident in his face.

“Finishing some files.”

“They don’t pay overtime, you know.” There’s an awkward silence when you don’t respond until you can’t ignore the blood he’s dripping onto the floor any longer.

“What have you done?”

“Ahh, s’nothing. I’ll ermm, get that cleaned up. Don’t let me keep you.” You consider leaving but if he really died in this kitchen, it’d make a hell of a mess so you step further into the room and take the half unwrapped bandage from him.

“Show me?” He lifts his shirt and there’s a three inch gash on his side, just below his ribs. He wobbles just a little on his feet so you turn him just slightly and push him to lean on the table in the middle of the room.

“You don’t have to-” he starts. You shush him with a wave of your hand.

“I know I don’t. Take off your shirt.” There’s a pause while you both process the words you’d just spoken. As a gesture, you turn your back on him but it’s mostly to compose yourself rather than give him privacy. You find a fresh out of the packet j-cloth from under the sink and soak it in warm water, glancing into the poor excuse for a first aid kit to work out what - if anything - is usable.

“Honestly, I can manage this, it’s just a scratch.” You turn back to look at him, really look at him. As well as the gash on his side, he’s got a split lip, a cut above one of his eyes and bloody knuckles.

“You’re a mess.” You say, matter of factly. He has the grace to look sheepish. “This might sting.” You careful place the cloth over the cut, stemming the blood flow and cleaning the surrounding area. 

“That’s enough now, I’m fine.” He tries again, his large hand covering your smaller one. You stop what you’re doing to look at him and you realise that even though you’ve barely looked at him since the incident, you know every freckle.

Roddy has an arm slung over your shoulders, making you both sway very ungracefully and not at all in time to the music that blares out of the speakers across the room. He’s saying something to you but you’ll be damned if you know what. It’s so unbelievably loud, your ears ring. Louisa and River are deep in conversation and you catch them looking over at you before looking back to their drinks. They probably think you’re desperate if you’re letting Roddy put his arm around you, but you think, you think, he’s trying to tell you about a girl he’s into.

“I’m sure she likes you too Ho, maybe just be a bit less… incelly?” You hope you say it kindly but honestly, you’re about 4 double g&ts in so who knows.

“You think I’m incelly?” He asks, a little hurt.

“Well… a bit. Lay off the Andrew Tate podcasts, yeah?” You suggest, patting his hand while he looks glumly into his sickly Smirnoff Ice. Time for a break from ‘the Ho’, you tell yourself, following the signs for the loos. There’s a couple of steps and you’re not quite sure where you’re going so you nearly lose your footing until someone catches you. River.

“You ok? Is Ho bothering you?”

“Nah, just lamenting his love life. I told him he needs to be a bit less incelly.”

“Huh, that’d be a good start.” River says with a grin. He still has a hand on your waist and yours is still resting on his chest. Emboldened by the confidence only several strong gins can provide, you reach up on tiptoes and kiss him lightly. You’ve fancied him since the second you walked into Slough House but you’re sure he’s never even noticed you. Meek and quiet, you keep to yourself and endure the punishment of being a Slow Horse just like everyone else. It takes half a second, but he responds. He definitely responds, holding your waist a little tighter and kissing you a little more deeply until suddenly there’s fresh air between you both and your waist is cold. “Sorry, shouldn’t have done that. Sorry.” He says, and then he’s gone. Back down the steps and across the room where Louisa is watching with curiosity. Your cheeks flame, you don’t bother with the loos. You have your bag so you head straight for the exit before anyone else sees you.

“You’re not bleeding to death all over this kitchen.” You tell him, sternly, banishing the memory of the incident to the back of your mind. “Hold his tight, please.” You move your hand from under his and put his back down more firmly onto the wound. 

“S’not that bad.” He replies gruffly.

“It needs stitches.”

“Does not.”

“Yes River, it does. Back in a sec.” You leave him alone under the harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen and retrieve your own first aid kit from your bottom desk drawer along with a bottle of vodka. Slightly more generously packed than the one in the kitchen, you have surgical needles and thread and proper dressings. You wash your hands thoroughly, though you’re not sure it matters given the state of the kitchen.

“Where’d you get all that?” He asks.

“The vodka?”

“The first aid kid.”

“Old job. I’m going to stitch that up.” You tell him. He laughs but quickly realises it hurts too much and it makes the wound bleed again.

“Fuck, shit-” he curses as you move his hand and replace it with your own. “Thank you.” He mumbles gratefully. You gesture to the vodka with a nod of your head.

“Have a bit of that, and try to hold this without moving this time.”

“Yes boss.” You blush, looking into the first aid kit to set up what you need.

“Ready?”

“Am I going to have a horrible scar?”

“Not if you sit still.” You warn him. He stops shuffling, suitably admonished. “Might hurt a bit. I’ll try not to.”

“I know you will.” He uncovers the wound again and you quickly apply a few steri-strips to hold it closed while you work. “That looks fine? We could just leave it like that?” He tries, though he can already see the blood pooling in the wound again.

“I’ll be quick.” You assure him. “Drink.” You're not sure if the grimace is from the neat vodka or your first incision with the needle, but he takes the pain well. You hear him breathing heavily through gritted teeth and it’s going well until he holds your left hand, the one you’ve got resting just above the wound while you stitch with your right hand. He grips your fingers tightly. “You’re doing really well, keep breathing through the pain,” you soothe him softly, your breath on his stomach raising goosebumps. 

“You’re good at this,” he says, surprised.

“I know I am.” His grip is less tight on your hand as you get closer to the end of the wound. “Nearly done.” You finish up and carefully clear the dried blood from around the wound before covering it with a large self adhesive gauze pad. Your cool hands brush over his skin as you press the edges of the adhesive down. “You could do with keeping it dry for a day or two.” You tell him, clearing your throat. Now you’re not concentrating on the stitches, the proximity is intoxicating. Searching for purpose, you turn your attention to his face. “You’re a mess.” You say.

“I know.” You turn away and wash the blood from your hands and then check the tiny freezer compartment of the fridge. “What you looking for?” You turn, victorious, with an ancient ice lolly. You wrap it in a clean cloth and place it against his swollen split lip. “I’m fine now, really, no more blood. You don’t need to do this.” He protests.

“I know.” You reply and instead begin cleaning the cut above his eye. To get close enough, you have to stand between his knees and you wonder if he can tell your heart is pounding. The cut just needs a couple of steri-strips so you apply them and step out of his orbit, happy to put some space between you both. 

“About before?” He starts awkwardly, messing with the wrapper of the ice lolly he’s moved away from his mouth. You feel your stomach drop to your knees.

“Please don’t-” you don’t care if your voice is pleading.

“I wanted to tell you,” he tries to catch your eye but you’re determined to look anywhere except at him until he takes your hand and pulls you back to him. “I wanted to tell you I was sorry.” He explains.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all. I made a horrible mistake. I just want to forget it ever happened.”

“That’s why you’ve been ignoring me?”

“I wouldn’t say ignoring exactly-”

“I would.” 

“Fine,” you huff. “Yes, that’s why I’ve been ignoring you. Please, River, can we just forget it?” His eyes drop to your lips.

“Is that really what you want?” He asks. You nod unconvincingly. Very unconvincingly. He raises his good eyebrow in disbelief, a sure sign he’s about to argue with you. “Really?” He asks again, quietly, almost pleading with you to change your mind. This time, your head shakes ever so slightly from side to side.

“No.” You whisper.

“No. So can I kiss you now?” 

“I’m not sure,” you begin, your fingertips lightly brushing his swollen lip, “I don’t want to hurt you?”

“I don’t think you could.” He smiled, leaning in to claim a long awaited real kiss.

********

[1nsan3]

Guilty as Sin

Yes, I know I'm supposed to be doing the last (? maybe? Not sure...) chapter of First Impressions but first I couldn't get this out of my brain because I swear I literally think about this man every minute of the day. Did you know he can sing? Sweet jesus, no one show me proof, I guarantee it will finish me off. Anyway, here's a little quickie (hehe 😏) cos gawd knows this fandom needs a lot a lot a lot more River and I will happily carry that burden 😂

River Cartwright/OFC (you/reader insert, no use of Y/N, L/N). Lots of smutty smut and jealousy, River feeling feelings, language warning. Mature rating.

You're undercover and it turns out River is incredibly jealous.

Without further adooooo...

********

You take another long drink, watching him as he watches you. His eyes haven't left you for what feels like hours. It has been hours, this back and forth, push and pull. It's a game you both so enjoy. The noise of the bar is growing as the night goes on, colleagues leaving and being replaced by the early doors club, then those replaced by students and the few in it for the night. You're not sure where you fall just yet, though it's clear enough that he’s struggling to keep his hands off you, so the night will not go on forever. Your knees bump together under the table, and he takes the opportunity to put a hand at the hem of your dress, lightly stroking your thigh. It's not your usual get-up. You've made an effort, and it's paying off beautifully. His eyes track down your throat and to the very deep neckline of the dress, held precariously in place with the best tit tape Boots had to offer. They look pretty fantastic if you said so yourself. A good handful for someone with good hands, which he had. With your empty glass on the table, you put a firm hand on his thigh. 

“Shall we move somewhere… quieter?” You suggest, your voice low and leading. He lights up like a Christmas tree, trying (and failing) to hide his eagerness. 

“Yeah, yeah, we should. My place?” He asks. You laugh - not unkindly or at him.

“No, not just yet. We're having so much fun, aren't we?” 

“Hmm, hard to argue that point. I'm sure I can wait a little longer. Some privacy wouldn't go amiss, though.” You slip from the stool, giving him a perfect glimpse down the front of your dress, and reach for his hand. If you remember correctly, this lovely bar has a small snug. A handful of more intimate tables with high booth walls and table service. Drinks are on him, after all, it'd be rude not to. His hand is possessive on the small of your back while he talks with the waitress. She tells him it's just a short wait, and that's fine. The wine has made you a little flushed and giddy, so you lean into him and let his warm body wrap around you. His hands shamelessly roam your body, groping and squeezing your bum and hips. He leans down to place a hot, wet kiss on your neck. His body crowds you against the hostess table, and you're not sure he actually will wait any longer.

“I'm just going to the bathroom while they get us a table,” you tell him quietly, your hand deliberately brushing across the front of his chinos. Away from the drinks and his heady aftershave, you can take a breath in the corridor to the bathrooms. 

In the dark, a body pulls you against their chest, a tight grip on your hip. 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

“I've got him right where we want him, River, what the hell are you doing?!” You wrestle from his grasp and pull him to the very end of the corridor and away from potential passers-by. 

“He's all over you like a rash!”

“Which is exactly my plan,” you tell him. He's got you backed against the wall, and you've gone from being in complete control of the mark you've been flirting with all night to being utterly at River's mercy instead. He's never like this. Petulant? Always. Occasionally irrational and more often than not, sarcastic, but whatever this is, it's new. 

“Is it turning you on?” He demands to know. 

“Him? Or this?” You snap. You're half wondering if he can tell the difference between you faking it in the bar and whatever you're feeling now. Can he feel your heart pounding? Does he know your thighs are clenching desperately at nothing, aching for his touch? This attraction has been brewing between you for a while, glances that linger just long enough to suggest there could be more between you, but he's never made a move, and so neither have you. 

“Do you think you're turning him on?” He asks quietly, his eyes on your lips, you couldn’t resist the deep luxurious red lipstick you spotted in Boots while hunting for the tit tape.

“I know I am. I could have him on his knees for me before the night's out.” At that, he bites back a groan, bruising your hip with his tight hold. He’s holding you so closely it’s like he’s breathing life into you. And then just as it dawns on you, you also realise that you've been gone too long and you’re actually supposed to be working. “Are you jealous, Cartwright?”

“No.” Came the strained reply in the crook of your neck. You place a gentle hand on his chest and push him back a little, his lips graze the corner of your mouth as he moves. 

“I need to get back out there and finish this.” His hand catches yours as you leave, fingertips holding on until the last moment. It's knocked you for six, the intensity of his gaze and the meaning behind his sudden temper. He may have denied it, but surely you can't have imagined it all?

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

“Thought you'd gotten lost,” the mark said as you approached the table. 

“Just needed a few moments alone.” You tease. His eyes light up, and sure, if it's going to make your life easier, then he can go ahead and believe that you've just been touching yourself in the bathroom. 

“That so?” You're momentarily distracted by River passing your table to sit at the one behind. “You couldn't resist a little early playtime, huh?” You smile coyly, letting him do most of the talking - and draw his own assumptions - rather than confirming anything. “Gonna be lucky if we make it to mine,” he was saying, “I bet you love the thought of getting caught.” From this distance you could see the muscle in River’s jaw clench. The mark leaned forward but did nothing to lower his voice, “I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget your own name.” Holding his gaze, you leaned in as well, 

“Dare you.” At the table behind, you're sure you heard knuckles cracking. “Let's get out of here,” you tell the mark suddenly. It's cold outside as you lead the mark to the alley beside the bar. He presses you against the wall and it feels completely alien compared to when River did the same thing barely an hour before. He kisses you and you play along. While he's distracted and trying to grope your breasts over the top of the dress, you're in his pocket doing your job. A key card and the slip of paper you watched an aide pass him hours ago. Bingo. You push him off you quickly and turn away, faking a sudden bout of drunken sickness. You retch and moan, a hand out behind you to stop him getting closer. As if he would.

“Oh gross, forget it love, you're not that fit.” He leaves, disgusted and you count to twenty before standing straight and putting the loot in your bag. You hadn't seen River follow you out of the bar, it makes you wonder if your backup has deserted you. Just as you reach the street, a body blocks your path. “I knew you were too fuckin’ good to be true.” The mark sneered, forcing you to take a couple of steps back and away from the people leaving the bar. 

“You came back!” You coo, reaching for his lapel. “I’m feeling loads better.”

“Games up, bitch. Give it back, or I beat the shit out of you.”

“But we were getting along so nicely,” you pout, pushing the boat out in one last opportunity to win him back over. He's not keen to play along this time and his hand painfully grabs the top of your arm. His other hand reaches for the split in your dress and his rough fingers find the top of your thigh. You try to scream out but your voice catches in your throat in fear.

“I knew you were all fuckin’ talk, filthy slut.” He slaps you across the cheek and the stinging pain is immediate, it makes you feral with anger. You wriggle and wrestle and try to stamp on his feet, just to get a bit of movement away from him, and finally you're able to get out of his grip far enough to knee him in the balls. He crumples forward in pain. His arm stretches out to pull you back but behind you, another arm pulls you away from him and shoves you into the front seat of a car. River's car. It seems to take an age to get the car into gear and moving but luckily the mark is still bent over in agony. A few bystanders checking on him. Once you’re a safe enough distance away, you feel River watching you. The skirt of your dress has twisted and ridden up in the hurry to get into the car, exposing more of your legs and from the gritted teeth and deep swallow, you can tell he’s noticed. You straighten out in the seat and pop down the sun visor, your cheek is still a little pink but it’s hard to tell from the streetlights. The lipstick is still perfectly in place though.

“Where'd you go? I thought you’d left.”

“I wouldn’t have left. I saw him wink at one of his drongo mates as you left so I got out just ahead of you to get the car. Figured you’d need to act fast.”

“If you hadn’t turned up when you did-” Your previous bravado has all but abandoned you, leaving you underdressed and vulnerable.

“I know.” He replies quickly, his mouth set in a hard, angry line. “Did he hit you?”

“Slapped me.” You find a bottle of water between your two seats and wonder how long it’s been there before deciding you really don’t care and taking it anyway. He stops for a red light and takes a hand from the wheel to turn your face so he can see. His thumb caresses your cheek for a brief second until the car behind alerts him to the green light. He pulls up at your apartment and you sit in silence watching next door’s cat. You can feel the anger radiating from him, his shoulders tense and his hands white knuckled on the steering wheel at ten and two. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You tell him softly, “thanks for being there tonight.”

“Just doing my job.” 

These fatal fantasies

Giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me

We've already done it in my head

Once you’re alone, you kick your shoes off with such ferocity that the heel dents the cupboard door. You stand in the dark in your small kitchen and pour a nightcap. The window overlooks the small car park and you can see that River’s car hasn’t moved yet. As you move through the flat and pass the front door, you can hear shuffling just outside so you pull the door open.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” You ask, an exact replica of his earlier question. He doesn’t speak, he takes the glass from your hand and finishes the contents. He does attempt to put the glass on the table by the door but it’s too close to the edge and falls, glass shattering. Neither of you takes a scrap of notice, he’s on you before you can say another word, lips claiming yours in a messy kiss. Your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders while his arms wrap around your waist and lift you enough off the floor that your bare feet are nowhere near the broken glass. He walks you forwards until he can press you into the doorframe. His kiss moves down your neck and he pulls the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders.

“You were right.” He mutters kissing along your collarbone.

“Was I?” You’re not sure how you can be expected to hold a conversation while he’s cupping your breast over your dress and running his thumb over your hardening nipple.

“I am fucking jealous.” Your back arches, pressing your chest to his, silently begging for more. “No one else touches you like that again.”

“Says who?” You challenge him. He kisses you again, a clash of teeth and tongue, a silent reply - a silent promise. His hands run down your body, but unlike the mark who groped aimlessly, River clearly has intention. He pulls at the lightly tied belt holding your dress closed until it’s barely clinging on. He pulls back to see your face, your firm nod of approval and kisses you more softly than he had previously. You can feel the anger and tension evaporating from him. With a final tug, the belt is undone and the dress begins to fall open. When his warm hands are at long last on your bare skin it’s like a green light. You scramble to pull his jacket off, throwing it to the floor closely followed by his shirt. He takes his time peeling the dress from your skin where it’s been held down by the tape and kisses the skin as it’s exposed to him bit by bit. When the dress is pooled at your feet your hands tangle in his hair. He nips at the curve of your breast, your ‘good handful’ dwarfed by his large hands. 

“You were wrong about one thing.” He says suddenly from the valley of your breasts.

“Enlighten me?” You lean back against the doorframe, grateful for the pause but still very distracted by his hands. 

“He wasn’t going to get on his knees for you.” Your eyes widen a little as he disappears from view. You can feel his hot breath against the cotton of your knickers. “Say now, and I’ll stop, and we can forget this ever happened?" 

"I don't want you to stop," you whisper. 

"Good." He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your soaked underwear and pulls them down your legs, then he nudges your legs apart and lifts one to drape it over his shoulder. "So wet," he teases, peppering her inner thighs with kisses. “Is this from him?” He licks a broad stroke through your folds, his nose nestling up against your clit. 

“You, only you-” you manage to reply. You can feel your knees shaking so he puts a firm hand on the hip of your raised leg to hold you steady. His other hand moves to join his determined mouth, he replaces his tongue and fucks you with his fingers, turning his attention to suck your clit.

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh

Only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh what a way to die

"Oh f-fucking fuck, Riv," You tangle a hand in his hair, partly to stop him from moving, and partly to keep yourself upright. His fingers, knuckle deep inside you, pump lazily in and out while he savours your taste, wanting to drag out your pleasure for as long as possible. Your dripping cunt aches for release but he doesn’t let up.

"You wanna come for me, love?" He murmurs as you whimper at the loss of his tongue.

"Yes, god yes -" your hips cant towards him, changing the angle so his fingers brush against your g-spot.

“You’re mine?” He asks so quietly you can hardly hear him over the pounding of your heart, he flicks his tongue over your clit, demanding an answer before he continues. 

“Yours, River, please-, fucking arrogant-” Your sentences go half finished once he’s happy with your answer, finally bringing you right to the edge and eagerly letting your cunt contract around his fingers. You’re not sure you can breathe any longer, let alone stand. He rests his head against your thigh as you lean limply into the doorframe. 

“I’m what now?” He asks smugly. He reappears in front of you, an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“Arrogant. Jealous. Annoying as fuck.” 

“Surely I’m not that bad?” He teases, kissing you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you melt against him. He lifts you with ease, “bedroom?” 

“Down the hall.” You’re about to chastise him for chucking you on the bed so unceremoniously but he’s already making himself very comfortable between your thighs again. 

“River?”

“Not done yet.” You're in pieces again even before you feel the wet slide of his tongue against your clit. He holds you down with one hand as you cant your hips towards him. 

"Fuckkk," you whine, hands desperately gripping the bed sheets. He gives your thigh a bite.

"Hold still," you can feel him smirk against you. It doesn't take much for him to have your legs shaking and you’re grateful to at least be lying down this time. You practically wail his name as you come, he's watching you come down, letting you think he's done with you before he goes back for more. By the time he's crawling up the bed to you, the need to have his skin against yours is sinful. You can barely form full sentences.

"Clothes, more, now". He laughs, a low rumble that you feel against your ribs.

“Hang on.” He rolls off you and grabs something from your bedside. You feel a weird sensation on your inner thigh, and sit up to see exactly what he’s up to now. He looks up with a satisfied smile having literally written mine on your skin. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Green eyed monster really got hold of you, didn’t it? Y’know if you wanted to ask me out, you could have?” You ask.

“I don’t think I realised how strongly I felt til I saw him all over you. Then when we were outside the bathroom, it felt like something changed?”

“C’mere,” You pull him on top of you and after hastily kicking off his jeans, he pushes into you in long, slow strokes, his whole body weighted against yours. After his earlier anger and jealousy, it’s surprisingly intimate and gentle. Your desperate pleas and praise ignites him and he holds you tightly, pressing you into the mattress as he fucks into you deliriously slowly, lewd noises filling the air. Your legs wrap around him, holding him against you. Your walls flutter around him as he makes you come again, sighing his name.

What if the way you hold me

Is actually what's holy?

“Had I known your jealousy was going to lead to this, I probably would have offered to go undercover a long time ago.” You mutter in the dark. You’re fairly sure he’s asleep, his nose is nestled into the crook of your neck, his long body curled around yours. It’s not until his snigger jostles you both that you realise he’s still awake. 

“Maybe I’ll go undercover next time.”

“I’m not sure you’d make a good honeytrap.”

“Rude, I can be pretty.”

“I know. I will rip the eyes out of any woman who so much as looks at you.” You tell him sleepily.

“Oh now I’m definitely signing up next time. Can’t wait to see you get all jealous.” He kisses your neck again as you drift off.

********

[1nsan3]

Spider/River/Reader

I am writing the River/Reader fic I promise, but the idea for this fic came to me today and wouldn't leave me alone. So here you have it.

Contains a drowning mention.

1460 words.

Rating: G

When River approached you about having an open relationship you were surprised, but not insulted. He explained it over kisses in bed, shared breakfasts, and nights in front of the TV. It was an ongoing discussion and you finally came to the conclusion that it wasn’t that you weren’t enough for him, but that his overflowing love could extend even further. So you agreed, while you weren’t interested in having another partner River was free to explore. Never in a million years did you think this is who he would pick.

—

The pub is crowded and noisy when you and River show up and it’s almost immediately overwhelming. Leading you outside River scans the beer garden for his boyfriend whom he’s introducing you to. When he spots him his eyes light up, and it warms you to see the joy clear on his face. This was the right decision, you think, he’s happy. As you walk through the crowd you spot Spider and your mood instantly falls. Spider was your nemesis back in training, and the only reason you earned the name Spout is because you were so prone to chewing him out for his selfish behavior. You knew Spider and River were friends back in the day, but that was a long time ago and the bad blood has been boiling between the two of them for years since. At least that’s what you thought. 

As River leads you notice that you’re getting closer and closer to Spider’s table and a dread creeps into the back of your mind. Glancing at Spider once more he doesn’t seem to even notice you approaching. He’s on his phone, clearly trying to ignore his surroundings. It’s only when River sits down across from him, pulling out a seat for you, that you let yourself feel the distress you’ve been suppressing. There’s no way Spider is River’s boyfriend, you think, increasingly frantic. I mean that’d be ridiculous, surely he has better taste than that, your thoughts spiral. It seems insane that not only would River date Spider, but that Spider would date River. Of course they have their growing antagonism, and sure maybe they do complain about each other more than is normal, and okay from what you’ve seen River does really like to get in Spider’s face and vice versa but… Oh my god, you think as it hits you, they’ve been attracted to each other the entire time.

“You’re finally here. I can’t believe you had me wait at this pub by myself, you know I hate these kinds of places.” Spider’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. God, you think, I have to be nice to Spider. “And who is this,” Spider asks, body turned towards you with judgment clear on his face.

“This is my girlfriend,” River answers. “Play nice.” 

“Darling, when have I ever done that?” It’s odd to hear Spider use a pet name, but not as odd as watching his and River’s strange form of flirting.

“You should remember me Spider, after all it’s not like we don’t have history.” The feeling in the air is strained almost immediately as you see Spider recognize you. At your side, you feel River tense and hold his breath in anticipation. 

“Spout.” It comes out terse, through clenched teeth.

“Spider” you respond, eyebrow cocked in challenge. 

“Okay… I’m going to get us some drinks.” River announces, before hurriedly making his exit. You and Spider stare at each other for another moment until he finally sneers. “I thought River would have better taste in women.” It’s so obvious that Spider is trying to get under your skin. You won’t let him. “Well clearly his taste in men leaves much to be desired.” There’s a flush that’s creeping up Spider’s neck, red and angry like he is. “He’s too good for you,” you continue, “You put him through hell. He may have forgotten that but I certainly won’t.” There’s a flash of hurt on Spider’s face, there and gone before being replaced by sheer rage.

“I will always be better than you, a pathetic woman who couldn’t even finish her training. How does it feel to know that I live your dream?” His words hit you deep, and just like that you remember why you never went to MI:5.

“At least I don’t work for a sanctimonious bitch like Taverner. I hear you sit at her side like a lap dog. Is it true that she doesn’t even know your name? You’re not important enough to be remembered I suppose.” Spider’s face is scarlet now, his knuckles white as he grips the table, clearly wanting to throw something at you like the child he is. 

“At least I didn’t let River drown!” He yells, standing over you. The rage that fills you is indescribable. It makes you see red and courses white hot through your veins. 

In hindsight, maybe River wanted you both to meet in a public place to avoid exactly this. 

You and Spider get kicked out of the bar just as River comes back with your drinks. His face is disappointed but not surprised. It feels worse than if he were angry.

—

The next week is spent cooling off at your flat and wondering how to apologize to River while also making it very clear that you will not apologize to Spider. The idea comes to you on a Friday afternoon. You get off of work at four on a Friday and so you pick up flowers and an “I’m sorry” cake from that bakery River likes and head over to his flat. Pulling out your key you open his door, only to find Spider already inside.

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out more of an accusation than anything, but you’re still feeling a little raw from your last meeting. 

Spider glares at you before saying, “I’m here to apologize, you twat. Why else would I be in this hideous place?” 

Now, River’s home leaves much to be desired, that’s certain. The walls are bare and the furniture is ancient. You’d been trying to get him to redecorate for months. So it’s not that Spider is wrong when he calls the flat hideous, but it still angers you anyways.

“Incredible way to start an apology. ‘I broke into your flat and I think that it’s hideous. Hope you forgive me oh-wonderful boyfriend.’ You should put that on a card, it’d sell out.” You fix Spider with a glare of your own. 

“I didn’t break in,” he says, “River gave me a key.” 

And doesn’t that just hit you like a ton of bricks. Spider has a key, because River trusts him. Because he’s River’s boyfriend. River gave you a key too, because River trusts you, the same way he trusts Spider.

You feel, suddenly, like an absolute ponce. 

Spider has given up awaiting your response and goes back to doing whatever he was doing before you interrupted him. A quick glance at the table shows two places set, and a fancy bottle of wine in the middle. Spider is making River an apology dinner, and you’re still holding your apology cake and flowers. Setting the cake down in the kitchen you navigate around Spider to find a vase for the flowers. It’s a strange sort of domestic. Clearly you both know your way around River’s kitchen, and you operate around one another with ease. There’s no talking, but the tension in the room comes down slowly, transitioning quickly into awkward silence. 

“I still think River has bad taste in men.” you blurt out. Spider doesn’t even give you a response, he just raises his eyebrow judgmentally. “But,” you continue, “I think you care about him. And we can’t help who we’re attracted to. So…”

“He does have bad taste in men.” Spider responds, “But he’s River, he has bad taste in everything. He can’t help it.” You laugh, and the tightness in your chest loosens just a bit. 

When River comes home he finds you and Spider sheepishly standing behind the dining table. There’s cake and wine and a wonderful meal shared as you both apologize profusely to him. The flowers are the centerpiece for your shared dinner and River smiles as he reaches out to hold hands with both of you, his fingers slipping in between yours, his rough hand tangled with Spider’s spindly one. 

You and Spider don’t apologize to each other that night, the apologies come later; after late nights spent talking about the past, about the future. And when River comes home from a long day at work to find you and Spider curled up around each other in his bed, he knows everything is going to be okay. 

[1nsan3]

hey!!

hope you’re doing well:) just wanted to ask if your river content was coming along — the start of season 4 has reignited my love for him & you’re little excerpt was so. good.

can’t wait for it to drop!! 💗

Thank you so much!! It's coming along nicely! The goal is to have it finished before I go back to college so it should be done in a couple weeks. In the meantime, here's another snippet.

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

River is clearly nervous as you drive, despite the alcohol in him. His directions come late and he won't stop fidgeting. 

“River, I'm sure he’s fine.” You get a hum of recognition and nothing else. Sighing you pull off on the exit he tells you, cutting across a truly dangerous amount of lanes. Thank god there’s almost no one else on the road. After you leave the motorway the streets get even quieter, the sounds of the country surrounding you. River gets quieter too, his worry palpable. The silence isn’t awkward, but tense. You try to stay calm, for River’s sake. He won’t tell you what’s wrong with his grandfather, but experience with your own grandmother can give you an idea of what he’s up against. You pull into the driveway and River almost jumps out of the car, slamming the door just a bit too hard. The front door has been left open and clearly it’s commonplace because River doesn’t even stop to acknowledge it, just walks in and calls out.

“Granddad?” His voice rings out in the house and you step beside him, looking around concerned.

“In here.” A voice calls from further inside. You can see River’s shoulders sag with relief and he removes his shoes, motioning for you to do the same.

It’s awkward, being in the house of your fuck-buddy’s grandfather, but River is almost a friend of yours and it’s clearly been a stressful night for him so you’re willing to stay. You follow him into the kitchen where an older man is standing over the stove looking puzzled. 

“Who’s this you’ve brought with you? Didn’t I tell you to come alone?” River freezes, seemingly forgetting that you’re a stranger to his grandfather. “She’s a colleague of mine, and you didn’t say to come alone. You just told me to come. Is everything alright?” You and his grandfather share introductions – David, he says – and he’s clearly enjoying making his grandson squirm which you think is a bit mean but it’s not like you don’t do a fair bit of tormenting River yourself. 

“Has he dragged you all the way out here to meet me?” he asks you, and without stopping turns to River, “I thought you weren’t with anyone?” You and River share a twin flush which is so embarrassing you try immediately to forget that it happened. “Ah, I see. Well, come, sit down. I had only called to ask you to drive me to M&S, I can’t seem to find my car.” You move to sit, ignoring River’s exasperated expression that he’s doing an awful job hiding. “We sold your car, don’t you remember? We decided it’d be best if you don’t drive anymore.” 

“Bollocks. I would never say that. I’m an excellent driver.” David says indignantly. You find it hard to believe that a man this full of life is having trouble remembering things as big as a car. River sighs again and after several attempts, gives up trying to explain the situation to his grandfather any further. 

“What do you need from M&S Granddad? I’ll just run and grab it.”

“Lemons, and milk. If it’s not too much of a hassle.” River nods and then realizes that you drove him. Holding his hand out he wordlessly asks for your keys, his eyes giving away his nerves. You’d put up more of a fight but you can see the stress working its way into River’s shoulders and your heart clutches with sympathy. 

“Go,” you wave him off, “I’ll stay here and have a drink with David.” River’s posture relaxes imperceptibly, your easy agreement giving him a modicum of comfort. It’s only when he leaves that you realize his relief calmed you as well.

[1nsan3]

writing smut is just the constant battle between the thoughts of "this is gross, you are so gross 😣" and "could be grosser 😏"

[1nsan3]

i did this instead of writing

[1nsan3]

cartwebb + tumblr text posts

[1nsan3]

Slow Horses / Peaky Blinders crossover

EDIT: I decided to make this into a series because the Jack/River brainrot is real and i’m obsessed. And then I had an idea how to combine my two fav shows and here we are! Enjoy 😘

I live and die by your feedback so as much as a ♥️ is nice, if you can I’d love to know what you actually think. If you want more of these two, please interact.

Tagged and not sure why? See note at the end.

Summary: Slow horses, Hattie Larkin and River Cartwright, are on an op where Larkin is posing as a honeytrap distraction. When things go wrong, as they always do for the inhabitants of Slough House, Cartwright helps her pick up the pieces.

Warnings: 🔞 Smut. Violence typical with the show - blood and minor character death. Bad language.

Word count: 3897 MASTERLIST

Part 1: Distraction Techniques

She perched on the high barstool, trying not to fidget too much. In the mirror behind the bar, Cartwright caught her eye, a teasing glint reflected back at her as she shuffled delicately, the footrest not in quite the right place for her to sit comfortably. Fighting the urge to retaliate, she sipped her martini - the same one she’d had for the last hour - and pretended to check her phone.

“Is this seat taken?”

A tall, handsome man in what appeared to be a very expensive suit stood next to her, hand on the back of the stool beside hers.

Why were so many high ranking criminals so bloody attractive, she pondered as she smiled and encouraged him to sit.

He didn’t speak again, though the appreciative skim of his eyes up and down her form as he sat didn’t pass her by, and the hum of the hotel bar wrapped itself around her once more.

Subtly - or not so - she checked her phone again, sighing quietly.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

Slipping it back into her little clutch bag, she glanced at the ‘stranger’ - known to her as Dimitri Kalugin - and smiled wryly.

“Apparently not.”

He chuckled slightly, lips curved against the rim of his glass, dark eyes holding hers. “He’s a fool.”

Even though this was an op, and she knew enough about his war crimes to make her skin crawl just being this close to him, she felt heat creep to her cheeks at the compliment.

Fucking hell, she really needed to get laid if this was working on her.

Almost tentatively, he struck up conversation, offered to buy her a drink which, after demurring a few times, was hard to say no to without seeming rude. And since the plan was based on him thinking he had a shot, she eventually accepted. After all, she needed to keep him distracted long enough for Cartwright to break into his hotel suite and get the intel they’d been sent there to steal.

No, not steal… acquire.. on behalf of His Majesty’s Secret Service.

Another drink arrived in front of her and she spotted Cartwright’s blonde head reappearing near the far end of the bar. He ordered a whiskey and she breathed a short sigh of relief.

Mission accomplished.

But she couldn’t just leave - it had to appear natural and she had another full cocktail in front of her. So she stayed put, managing not to flinch when Kalugin’s hand brushed her knee under the bar. Without looking, she could feel Cartwright watching her in the mirror as she laughed at something Dimitri said; he really was rather funny for a mass murderer.

“I really should go up,” she said finally as she drained the final drops from her glass. “Thank you for the drinks.”

He caught her hand as she tried to push herself away from the bar.

“It’s still early. Perhaps we could continue this conversation somewhere… quieter..?”

She smiled, in what she hoped looked like resigned disappointment. “That would be lovely but I’m afraid I really can’t. I have an early start tomorrow and one more drink and I’ll be in trouble.”

He smiled wolfishly and discomfort trickled down her spine as he pulled a card from inside his jacket, scribbling a room number at the top.

“Well you know where to find me.” His grin broadened as she took the little rectangle of heavy card. “If a little trouble is what you’d enjoy.”

Making as quick an exit as she could manage without actually running from the room, she breathed a sigh of relief as the lift doors closed, the little car carrying her up and away from Kalguin.

Letting herself into the room that was booked under her alias, it wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door. Casting around for something to protect herself, she grabbed a sharp looking letter opener from the desk (truly, did rich people really still use those?) and looked carefully through the peephole, pulling it open when she saw it was only Cartwright.

Slipping through he paused as he saw the silver stationary weapon in her hand.

“Seriously?”

“Well Lamb wouldn’t let me have a gun, so I had to improvise.”

“Not surprised after last time.” She fumed slightly, wielding the letter opener threateningly and he raised his hands. “Woah, I was only kidding.”

She muttered something about misunderstandings and dropped the heavy item back on the desk.

“Did you get it then?”

He grinned, pulling out his camera, showing her the photos. “Yep. Everything - they might even let us back in the Park for this one.”

She doubted that but it was nice to dream that some day her time in Slough House might come to an end. And not as a result of being kicked out of the Service altogether. She didn’t want to die there in ignominy like their boss, Jackson Lamb, was so clearly determined to.

The door knocked again and they shared a startled look.

“Bathroom!” she hissed, shoving him away with the camera, grabbing the letter opener again and hiding it in the handy pocket of her skirt.

A quick glance through the peephole confirmed her fears.

Kalugin.

She opened the door carefully, just enough to peer out into the hallway, the letter opener reassuringly heavy against her thigh.

“Hello again..” she smiled falsely, but his own easy grin immediately fell away as he shouldered his way into the room, knocking her back against the wall.

“Oi! What the fuck do you think—”

He grabbed her by the throat, pinning her and cutting off her airway. “You think I don’t know who you are, Agent Larkin?” he hissed, no trace of the affable, attractive man from the bar.

“Get the fuck off her!” shouted Cartwright, bursting out of the bathroom, launching himself at Kalugin. Except all he succeeded in doing was getting smacked in the jaw with the butt of his gun and he stumbled back, dazed. Rallying, he found himself staring down the barrel.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you, Agent Cartwright.”

The grip around her throat tightened again as she struggled, black dots dancing in her vision.

“Y’know,” Kalugin continued, as though making idle chit chat at a cocktail party. “I can’t decide if I should be offended or not that Taverner sent a couple of Slough House slow horses after me. Are you really the best she could do..?”

She could feel her head beginning to swim, his fist like a vice around her neck. Carefully she fumbled in her skirt. Over his shoulder she could see Cartwright weighing his chances but if he moved, Kalguin would shoot him, of that she had no doubt. Out of options and running on pure survival instinct, her fingers closed around the cool metal and without hesitating, she plunged the letter opener into his neck.

Kalguin dropped her immediately, clutching at his throat as blood pumped thickly from the wound, the weapon still protruding grotesquely from where she’d stabbed him. She fell sideways, sliding down the wall, coughing and gasping for air. He reached to grab at her but she kicked him away and he slumped sideways, whatever he was trying to say simply coming out as gargled gasps, blood bubbling between his lips.

In a horrifically short amount of time he was motionless, a dark sticky pool growing around him.

“You fucking killed him.”

She looked up to find Cartwright staring in horror at Kalguin’s lifeless body.

“He was going to kill us,” she whispered hoarsely. “He knew who we were the whole time.”

Her hands were beginning to shake.

“Fuck… River…”

He looked up sharply. Hattie Larkin never called him by his first name.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. You’re right - it was him or you. Us. Everyone will understand.” He crouched down, pulling her into a hug, one large hand resting on the back of her head, as her fingers curled into his shirt, face buried in his shoulder. He smelled of fabric softener and cologne, and she inhaled the soothing, slightly spicy combination as she tried to steady her breathing.

There was no way either of them were going back to the Park now.

*****

It took hours to clean up her mess. Once he’d ascertained neither of them were particularly injured, Lamb was his usual offensive and indifferent self. On the other hand, Diana Taverner - MI5’s second-in-command - was furious. Unsurprisingly she was not as understanding about their predicament as Cartwright had suggested she might be.

No, she most definitely wouldn’t be getting her old job back any time soon.

She expected him to have gone by the time she finished her humiliating debriefing, but he was waiting for her, scrolling his phone and avoiding eye contact with anyone who happened to be milling around. Of which there were many, keen to get a glimpse of the slow horses fucking it up again.

Mortification burned through her veins as she tried to keep her head up. She’d like to see any of them do better. A painful ring of bruises were starting to form around her neck.

“You’re still here.”

He pushed himself to his feet, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.

“Thought you might need a drink.”

She sighed. “I just want to go home.”

He followed her out of the building, through the security check, catching her arm as she scanned the infuriatingly quiet late night streets for a taxi.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Shrugging him off, she dug in her bag for her phone to order an Uber.

“I’m fine. You didn’t have to wait.” His hand closed over the one holding her phone, blocking her view. “Cartwright..c’mon, I just want to go to bed.”

She just wanted a whiskey and to forget but that was something to be done alone.

“Hattie, you just killed a man..”

“Shout it a bit louder, why don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes and put his hands on her shoulders. “You shouldn’t be on your own.”

She looked up at him, his eyes surprisingly serious.

“Fine. You can come with me if you want. But you’re sleeping on the sofa. And it’s small and uncomfortable.” She held a finger up, pointing in his face. “And no funny business.”

He smiled and let her go back to ordering a taxi.

“Weirdo,” she muttered under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’ll be three minutes.”

*****

At her direction he poured whiskey whilst she changed out of the black dress she’d chosen for her ill-fated role as Mysterious Temptress - which was now probably ruined, covered as it was in splashes of Kalugin’s blood. With a sigh of relief she pulled on a pair of leggings and a loose fitting jumper over a vest, padding back out to the living room.

“Better?” he asked as he handed her the glass and she curled into the corner of the sofa, nursing it. Taking a long sip, she allowed the warmth to slowly flow through her limbs.

“Hmmm..”

“Do you wanna talk about it..?” She flashed him a withering look. “Alright, no then.”

Silence fell, but not uncomfortably so - after six months of sharing an office they were used to being quiet in each other’s presence - and he fiddled with one of her cushions.

“Cartwright..”

“What you need is a distraction.”

She sank the rest of the not inconsiderable measure, hissing at the burn and climbed to her feet.

“You really don’t have to be here, Cartwright. I’m fine. A bad dude is dead. The end.”

He stood, a little too close from the smallness of her sofa, and she smelled it again, that soft spiciness of his cologne. His bright blue eyes were very clear and close to her. Traces of dried blood still clung to his skin, a dark bruise blooming on his cheek.

He had tried to save her.

He’d do that for anyone though, she knew that well enough by now, argued the little voice in the back of her head.

“I’ll go if you want me too.” His voice was quiet and it was like the air was slowly being sucked from the room, the atmosphere thickening in the small space between them. She caught herself glancing at his lips and forced her eyes back to his.

He moved, almost imperceptibly but now he was fully in her personal space and instinctively her hands landed on his chest. Not to push him away, just resting against his pale blue shirt. Following their movement, she saw the now rusty smears of blood from where her fingers had curled into him as he held her in the immediate aftermath.

“Larkin…?”

She looked up, finding him staring down at her, uncertainty written all over his obnoxiously handsome face as he tentatively pushed her hair back behind her ear, his fingertips running lightly across her cheek.

“What kind of a distraction..?”

He frowned for a second and recovered himself. She shifted slightly closer, his breath ghosting over her face.

“I can think of a few things,” he murmured, her eyes darting between holding his stare and watching the quick flick of his tongue across his lips.

“Is that so..?” Her nose brushed lightly against his, his hand curled further into her hair, drawing her closer.

“Y’know, like scrabble or something,” he mumbled, and she drew back slightly, seeing his face close in as he cringed internally.

“Scrabble?”

“I mean, if you have it..?” he said weakly.

“River…” His eyes fluttered open again at the sound of his name on her lips and she hooked her finger through the buttons of his shirt, gently pulling him back to her.

His lips touched hers, no more than a gentle brush but it sparked something inside her. Pushing up on her toes a little, she tugged his collar, his surprisingly soft mouth moving against hers more firmly. His arm slipped around her waist, pulling her finally flush against him and a small noise left her throat.

“This is a terrible idea,” she mumbled against his mouth.

“Probably.”

She caught his lips again, wrapping her arms around his neck, fingers curling up into his hair. His tongue swiped across her lower lip and she let him lick into her mouth, tasting whiskey on his tongue as it danced with hers.

In slow motion she pushed him back down onto the sofa, straddling his hips, lips barely parting. His hands snuck under her jumper, warm through the thin material of her vest. Hesitantly, he ran a thumb over her breast, swallowing her moan when he brushed her already firm nipple.

“Hattie…we don’t…” he murmured as he drew back, hands reappearing to cup her face. She ground gently against his lap and his bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as she rocked against his already growing erection.

“Distract me, Cartwright,” she teased, popping the top few buttons on his shirt. She stopped abruptly. “Unless you don’t..?”

Tangling a hand in her dark hair, he pulled her mouth back to his, hips jerking up against her core making her whine and rub herself against him, chasing delicious friction.

“Fuck.. this is such a terrible idea…” she muttered again, pulling her jumper over her head and chucking it away as he wriggled out of his shirt, wrapping his arms around her body, lips trailing down her neck, his perpetual stubble scratching pleasantly as he pressed hot kisses across her chest.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” he mumbled, pulling her vest down, warm mouth closing around one stiff bud.

“Shit…” she hissed, fingers knotted in his hair. “Stop and I’ll use that letter opener on you. I’ve got a taste for it now.”

She felt him smile against her breast, tugging the material down to bare her other to him, tongue teasing against the sensitive peak until her breath was coming in small gasps.

Slowly his fingers trailed along her thigh, caressing the apex with her hip. She was about to take matters into her own hands and move him where she needed, when he dragged his thumb over her clothed slit, pressing against her clit.

“Fuck..” she choked, body arching to meet his touch.

“God, I can feel how wet you are through these,” he groaned, sucking lightly on her nipple and she felt her face redden. He was never going to let her live this down.

With a jolt of surprise, he hooked his arm around her, tipping her onto her back. As she struggled out of her vest, he moved to settle between her legs - awkwardly half on the floor, given his size and the smallness of the sofa.

But any fleeting concern she might have had for his own comfort was forgotten as he peeled her bottom layers from her body, large palms pushing her thighs wide, licking a hot stripe through her folds.

“Holy fucking shit,” she gasped, as he gently lapped at her swollen clit, rolling it softly before sucking it between his lips. “River…”

Her whine of his name seemed to only spur him on, a thick finger toying with her tight entrance, pressing lightly against it until she was practically grinding against his face, desperate for more. Glancing down, she saw him watching her through hooded eyes, mouth devouring her as he eased one, then two fingers into her drooling cunt.

In the brief moment before her eyes fell shut of their own accord and her back arched, she saw him smirk as, with an entirely infuriating casual ease, he found the sweet spot inside her that made her see stars.

A stream of curses left her lips as he fucked her, tongue lazily working against the little bundle, until the room was filled with the lewd sounds of her arousal.

“Oh my.. fuck.. River… m’gonna…” she stuttered, words failing her as he sucked hard on her clit. In a rush she toppled over the edge of her climax, lights bursting behind her tightly closed eyes, electricity crackling beneath her skin, quickly chased by a blissful sense of weightlessness.

Her release flooded into his mouth and he lapped it up, one arm wrapped around her quaking thigh to stop her from crushing his head.

Gasping for air, she weakly pulled at his hair, encouraging him up until he was hovering awkwardly above her, enough that she could pull him into a kiss. The feeling of his firm chest pressed against hers, skin to skin, ignited the burn of desire in her again, her taste coating his tongue making her moan into his mouth.

“Think you can give me another?” he murmured against her mouth, a cheeky glint in his eye as he rolled his thumb over her clit and her whole body jerked beneath him.

“Cocky little shit,” she grumbled, pushing him off her enough so she could sit up. With the biggest grin she had ever seen from him, he took the hint and settled back down where he had been earlier, helping her drag down his trousers and boxers until his cock sprang thickly and proudly against his stomach.

“Christ, no wonder you’re such a cocky little shit…” she mumbled, slightly taken aback as he kicked his clothes away, one fist wrapped around his girth, pumping lightly.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he grinned, pulling her back onto his lap, hissing as her dripping pussy swiped along his length.

Foreheads pressed together, she slipped a hand between their bodies, stroking him gently. As she rolled her thumb over the tip, smoothing the pearls of precum across it, his head fell back against the cushion, a low groan rumbling in his chest.

Without giving him a moment to recover, she lifted her hips and pressed him against her core, sliding slowly down until his full length was nestled inside her tight heat.

“Holy fuck,” she gasped shakily, the stretch of him almost overwhelming. His grip on her hips tightened, clearly not wanting to rush her into moving but being really fucking desperate that she might. Slowly, she rolled her hips, both of them groaning as he dragged against her slick, sensitive walls.

“Fuck.. you feel…” His eyes slid closed as she rocked a little faster, fingertips pressing bruisingly into her skin.

“River… fucking hell…” she moaned, gripping the back of the sofa to give her more leverage as she slid up and down his thick length. Looking down, he was watching her, his pink lips swollen and parted, cheeks flushed, sending a shiver of arousal through her. He leaned forward to catch her nipple with his mouth, tongue teasing against it as she rode him, hands drifting down to squeeze her bum, helping lift her off and onto him.

Bright bolts of pleasure coursed through her, blinding her, robbing her of breath. Her thighs burned with the effort but every nudge of his cock against her gspot kept her going, chasing the high she could feel building again, glimmering up her spine. As her movements began to grow sloppier, he took over, holding her in place as he fucked up into her tight wet cunt until she was practically wailing, burying her face in his neck.

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” he gasped in her ear, hips snapping up into her at an almost vicious pace. Slightly embarrassingly, at his command she lost control as the coil inside her unraveled, and she came with a voiceless cry, teeth scraping against his skin.

With a loud grunt he chased her over the edge, cock driving hard into her, painting her insides white, his arms wrapped tightly around her shaking body.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. As the rushing in her ears died down, she could feel his heart banging against her chest, certain he could feel hers too. A wave of quiet contentment washed over her, locked in his arms, skin to slightly sweaty skin, the soft spicy scent of him in her nose.

And then slowly her brain kicked back in.

Oh god. She’d just had sex with Cartwright.

She groaned quietly against his shoulder.

“Thanks. That’s exactly the kind of post-coital reaction I aim for.”

Uncurling, she found herself nose to nose with him, his clear blue eyes very close to hers.

“That was a really stupid idea.”

He shrugged, cupping the back of her head, bringing her lips to his. Against her better judgement she sank into his kiss, oddly chaste considering he was still seated deep inside her.

“Thank you for staying,” she mumbled against his mouth, pecking his lips again.

He stroked his hands over her cheeks, holding her head between his palms.

“Told you I could distract you. Bet you’re not even thinking about the fact you stabbed a man in the jugular earlier tonight.”

She sat up, both hissing as it moved his softening cock within her.

“Fucking hell, Cartwright. I wasn’t until just now!”

Pushing off his lap, she grabbed her jumper, pulling it back over her head, shuffling awkwardly trying not to make a mess from where she could feel him leaking out of her.

“Larkin,” he called as she headed for the bathroom. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

She stuck her head out before she could fully close the door.

“Yeah well, joke’s on you ‘cause now you’re going to have to distract me all over again,” she grinned, shutting the door in his face.

Part 2

Edit: so I’ve changed this from a Reader to an OC because I have a few ideas for follow ups and I just prefer writing original characters these days. Hope that won’t put off the 6 people who are reading this 🤭🙈

Until then, I’d love to know what you think - please do get in touch in all the usual ways 🤍

Masterlists: SLOW HORSES | MAIN

☕️ Enjoyed this story? Why not by me a coffee - Ko-Fi

Tagging people on my ‘everything’ list but obvs no worries if you’re not into this! If anyone wants to be added to a Slow Horses tag list, let me know in the comments or my DMs.

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @garrison-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @elliotshelbyjones , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4-deactivated20231226 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @blondie-22 , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @emotionalcadaver , @brummiereader , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @majesticcmey (unable to tag) , @rangerelik , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @camilleholland89 , @woofgocows , @cilliansangel (unable to tag) , @ayomurphys , @elenavampire21 , @elk96 , @scorpiussage , @cillixn , @esposadomd , @grapejuiceblues , @throughgoeshamilton , @polishcrazyone , @shjjpm , @duckybird101 , @maeleeme , @cillmeslowly , @kmc1989 , @nela-cutie , @magicalmushroom0 (unable to tag) , @86luvrs (unable to tag) , @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky (unable to tag)

[1nsan3]

snippet from the River Cartwright x Reader story i'm writing

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

You’re with Louisa at the pub when you spill to her about your and Rivers’...athletic excursions and subsequent blow out. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do Louisa,” you groan, head on the sticky pub bar.

“Don’t do anything. River’s a big boy, he’ll either come ‘round or he won’t.” Louisa finishes her pint before poking you unceremoniously in the arm. Getting no response she flags the bartender down for another drink. After a moment’s silence you respond, voice muffled by your refusal to lift your head, “I don’t know if I can keep fucking him if he’s going to keep pretending it’s not happening.”

“So don’t fuck him.” Louisa is the queen of pragmatism, which is often appreciated, even if this particular suggestion makes a pit settle in your stomach.

“Yeah but the sex is so good.” Louisa snorts and pushes her pint towards you, making you finally unstick yourself from the bar and take a drink. Raising a toast to her generosity you down the rest of the drink almost instantly. It’s only your second pint and you don’t feel anywhere near drunk enough to have the conversation you can feel coming.

“Sex with a coworker always ends badly, especially in our line of work,” Louisa explains, making you feel supremely guilty for a fleeting moment before she continues, “And River Cartwright always manages to fuck things up, sometimes more than the rest of us. So my advice is to leave him alone. Well and truly alone. Don’t text him, don’t go out with him, and especially don’t sleep with him.” While you didn’t specifically come to Louisa for guidance, it’d probably do you well to heed her warning. Unfortunately, not heeding warnings is a bit what you were known for. You’d ended up in Slough House after all. 

Most likely seeing on your face that you were reluctant to listen to her advice, Louisa simply sighed and ordered you both a round of shots. “If we drink more you’ll at least have a reason to not follow my advice, no point following something you can’t remember.” You share a grin with her, this is why Louisa was your favorite.

[1nsan3]

Imposing Figure

River Cartwright x GN!Reader

Summary: "You're stupid. I like that in a man."

Requests: Tentatively open-ish. I'll try to get to them.

Warnings: The world's himboiest himbo to ever live himboing around himboingly.

It was still before sunrise when you stepped into the dark, dusty halls of Slough House. Lamb didn't care one way or another whether his agents got an early start -- however, you enjoyed the nice bit of quiet the office offered before everyone else arrived. The setting was professional enough that you didn't feel tempted to slack off, but it was quiet and lonely enough that you could relax and take your time with tasks.

You settled into your chair, opened your work playlist on your phone, popped your laptop open, and got to work. An hour went by uninterrupted. The sun rose, you made yourself tea, and all was well.

At first, you didn't realize that a mysterious rattling that had picked up was coming from the door. You noticed it, of course, but thought nothing of it -- Slough House had recently encountered a problem with a persistent little rat. You thought it was surely just the little critter trying to get into a filing cabinet or something.

It was when you got up to get more tea that you finally saw the shadow lurking in the door and realized that what you'd heard before was what should've been the unmistakable clattering of someone trying to brute force the door open.

Without thinking, you immediately pulled out your firearm and aimed it at what you assumed was the figure's head, though the way they were hunched over made it hard to tell.

You were just beginning to wonder why they hadn't busted the glass in when the pathetic voice of your coworker piped up quietly from the other side of the door.

"Hey -- I know -- I know someone's in there! I can hear your music. Can you... could you let me in please?"

You rolled your eyes as you holstered your weapon. "Why can't you let yourself in?" you asked.

"I... lost my keys..."

"Again?" you said in disbelief as you approached the door, unlocking it and opening it to reveal River, shifting embarrassedly at the jamb.

You sized him up with a quirked brow as you joined him in leaning against the doorframe. "You really cut an imposing figure, y'know?"

"I must've dropped them after -- sorry, what?"

"Like, just now, when I didn't know it was you at the door. It was kind of scary."

"Oh. Thank you?" He was visibly confused, but simultaneously seemed uplifted by your words.

"But then you opened your mouth, and I thought, 'oh, never mind, it's just River.'"

You watched as he deflated. "Oh."

"It's just that, y'know, physically you're quite intimidating, but when you speak I can just tell you've only got one brain cell in that pretty head of yours."

"I like to think I've got at least three still working."

"Aw, stupid and funny. I appreciate those qualities in a man."

He looked thoughtful for a moment -- eyes visibly taking their turn at sizing you up, now. "Why the hell would you be into idiots?"

"River, do you know what a himbo is?"

[1nsan3]

Masterlist: SLOW HORSES

Not sure if this is going to be one fic or many but I need somewhere to keep them so here we are. Primarily stories here are going to be River Cartwright focussed.

Stories marked with 🔞 contain smut or adult themes. Respectfully, minors DNI.

SERIES

All The King’s Horses - River x Charlie Faraday OC 🔞

See How They Fall - River x Hattie Larkin OC 🔞

Fear of Falling - River x Eve Carter OC 🔞

Pay For It - River x Mia ‘Amelie’ Conti OC 🔞

ONE SHOTS

Punishment 🔞

Marigold 🔞

Close Protection 🔞

Dirty Thirty 🔞

MOODBOARDS & OTHER BITS

River gets his fiancee!OC a dog

Credit: dividers by the ever talented @/firefly-graphics

[1nsan3]

River Cartwright Masterlist

Fractures- James 'Spider' Webb x Rebecca Blake (OC) x River Cartwright

Her Blood Soaked Hands- River Cartwright x Naomi Heart (OC)

Love to Hate and Hate to Love- River Cartwright x Olivia Moher (OC)

Dark

Looking After You

Hurt/Comfort

Patching Up

Requests

NSFW

Beg

I Need You

Wanting