#northside!reader

"nonsense!" fiona gasps when the newborn is placed delicately inside her hold, brown irises already twinkling with raptured delight. "oh look at her.." she croons, going so far as to trace a gentle forefinger over the bridge of her nose. "she's got the gallagher nose, don't she?"

bashful, lip casts his gaze down to his feet, where he kicks at a crack in the asphalt. "not gonna take all the credit here," he mumbles, the thumb of his left hand, which is shoved inside a dirty pocket, picks at the cart of cigarettes he's trying not to pull out. "she's got your eyes, princess. that's for sure."

an arm that's not lip's, swoops over your shoulders, tugging you into the owner's side before you're able to register the embrace. "did good, kid," mickey grumbles, motioning to the infant with a free hand. "doesn't look all fucked up. that's a win in my book."

your nose wrinkles with a surprised laugh, and you nudge away the brunet with a soft elbow to the gut. "thanks. i did my best."

fiona's noise of disappointment is quickly hushed when ian take your daughter from the female, assuring to cradle the weight of her head with stretched fingers. "so what, this mean we get to crash your pad more often now? i mean, for babysitting purposes or whatnot."

The southside wasn’t exactly what I expected. When we first moved to Riverdale, I had heard the warnings- the Southside was dangerous, crawling with gangs, and definitely not a place for a ‘Northsider’ like me to be wandering alone at night. But I wasn’t afraid. Not really. I had been around Jughead enough to know about the Serpents and Ghoulies, and I figured as long as I kept my head down and minded my own business, I’d be fine. 

That was my first mistake. 

I hadn’t realized I had wandered so far, too lost in my own thoughts as I walked down the dimly lit streets. It wasn’t until I caught sight of a few neon lights flickering from a rundown bar and the unmistakable sound of cars revving in the distance that I froze. My stomach twisted. 

Ghoulie territory. 

I turned around immediately, my heart pounding. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I should’ve paid more attention to where I was going. If Jughead knew I was here, he’d probably lecture me for an hour straight. But I wasn’t about to stick around and find out what happened to Northsiders who strayed too far from home. Just as I pivoted on my heel to leave, I collided with something- no someone- solid. 

I stumbled back, looking up, and my breath hitched. 

The guy standing in front of me was tall, built, and exuded pure intimidation. Dark eyes raked over me with interest, his sharp jawline accentuated by the smirk tugging at his lips. His hands were tucked into his jacket pockets, but there was no mistaking the power he carried just by standing there. 

Malachai. 

I didn't need an introduction to know who he was. I had heard Jughead talk about him- the ruthless Ghoulie leader, dangerous and unpredictable. The kind of guy you didn’t want to cross. And yet, the way he was looking at me sent a different kind of chill through my body. One I wasn’t expecting. 

“Well, well,” Malachai drawled, his voice smooth but edged with amusement. 

“What do we have here?” 

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm. “I was just leaving.” 

He chuckled, taking a step closer. “Leaving? But you just got here.” His dark eyes flicked over me again, slower this time, as if he was sizing me up. 

“You’re not a Serpent… And you’re definitely not a Ghoulie. So, what’s a Northside girl like you doing walking around my streets all alone?” 

I shifted on my feet, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened under his gaze. 

“I didn’t realize where I was.” 

“That much is obvious.” His smirk widened, but there was something else in his expression now- interest? 

“You got a name, Princess?” 

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “Y/N.” 

“Y/N.” He repeated as if testing how it sounded. Then, he leaned in slightly, and I help my breath. 

“You’re either real brave or real stupid for walking around here by yourself. Which one is it?” 

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze despite the way my heart hammered against my ribs. 

“Neither, I just made a mistake.” 

Malachai chuckled, clearly amused. “Cute. But mistakes like that? They can get you in trouble around here.” I didn’t doubt that. 

Before I could say anything else, I noticed movement behind him. A few Ghoulies had taken an interest in our conversation; their eyes locked onto me like I was fresh meat. My stomach twisted again. Malachai must have noticed too, because his smirk faded slightly as he turned his head toward them. 

“Back off.” His voice was calm, but there was a threat hidden beneath the surface, one that made the others hesitate before slowly drifting back into the shadows. 

I exhaled, realizing just how much worse this could’ve been if I had run into the wrong person. But Malachai… I wasn’t sure what to make of him yet. When he turned back to me, his smirk returned, but there was something else in his gaze this time. Curiosity. Amusement. And maybe something a little more dangerous. 

“You’re lucky I found you first, Princess.”

Somehow, I wasn’t sure if lucky was the right word. 

My heart raced as Malachai led me to his car. What the hell was I doing? One minute, I was lost and alone on the Southside; the next, I was being whisked away by the leader of the Ghoulies himself. I climbed into his car after him, and then we were off, flying down the dark streets of the Southside. We drove for what felt like hours, but was probably only minutes. I had no idea where we were going, but I trusted Malachai to keep me safe for some reason. There was just something about him, something dangerous and alluring all at once. I couldn’t help but be drawn to it. 

Eventually, we pulled up to an old warehouse on the outskirts of the Southside. Malachai parked the car and hopped out, coming to my side to help me out. I stumbled slightly, but Malachai caught me. 

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around at the dilapidated building. 

“My place.” Malachai replied, grabbing my hand and pulling me inside. 

“It’s safer here.” 

I followed him into the warehouse, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The interior was sparsely furnished, with a few couches and a kitchenette in the corner. But what caught my attention was the large bed in the center of the room, covered in soft blankets and pillows. Malachai must have noticed my staring because he chuckled low in his throat. 

“I like to be comfortable.” He said, shrugging off his vest and tossing it aside. I watched as he moved towards the bed, his movements graceful and predatory all at once. He turned to face me, his dark eyes roving over my body with a hunger that made my knees weak. 

“Come here, Y/N.” He said, his voice low and commanding. 

“Let me show you what happens when you come into Ghoulie territory.” 

I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew I shouldn’t trust him, shouldn’t let myself be drawn in by his dangerous charisma, but there was something about Malachai, something that made me want to take a chance. So I crossed the room, letting him pull me into his arms. His hands roamed over my body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he touched. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, his desire evident in every movement. 

“Malachai…” I breathed, my head falling back as he nipped at my neck. 

“Shhh…” He murmured, his hands sliding under my shirt. His hands eagerly explored my body as he slowly stripped me, savoring every inch of my exposed skin. I trembled beneath his touch, my breath coming in short gasps. 

“That’s it, baby. Let me take care of you.” He growls, his voice thick with desire. 

“You’re all mine now.” 

He laid me down on the bed, his eyes darkening at the sight of me splayed out on the bed. He admired me, the way my curves begged to be touched. He lowered himself on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. 

“Malachai…” I whispered, my fingers digging into my shoulders. 

“Please…” 

“Shhh… be a good girl and let me have my way with you.” He commanded, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. 

“I’m going to make you scream my name until you forget everything but the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you.” 

He tore away my panties, throwing them aside. His fingers found my slick folds, stroking through my wetness. I arched into his touch, moaning softly. 

“So wet for me already.” He chuckled. 

“I haven’t even started yet.” He positioned himself at my entrance, the head of his cock teasing my opening. 

“Beg for it, Princess. Beg me to fuck you like the dirty little Northside slut you are.” 

“Please, Malachai!” I cried out, my nails raking down his back. 

“I need you inside me. Fuck me hard!” 

“Such a good girl.” He praised, slamming his hips forward and burying himself balls-deep in my tight pussy. 

“Oh God, yes!” I screamed, my walls clamping down around him. 

“So big… so good…” 

He set a brutal pace, pounding into me with savage intensity. The bed frame slams against the wall with each thrust, and the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the air. I was moaning and writhing beneath him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure. 

“That’s it, take my cock like a good little fuck toy.” He growled, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot inside me. 

“Scream for me, baby. Let the whole Southside know who’s fucking you senseless.” 

“Malachai! Yes, yes, yes!” I cried out, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm. 

“I’m cumming Don’t stop!” 

“I won’t stop until I’m filling this sweet little pussy.” He snarls, his thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna pump you so full of my cum. You want that, don’t you, slut? Want me to mark you as mine?” 

“Please…” I beg, my eyes rolling back in ecstasy. 

“Give it to me, Malachai!” With a groan, he buried himself to the hilt and exploded inside me, his cock twitching as he painted my insides with his hot seed. 

“Fuck yes, take it all!” 

We collapsed together, both of us gasping for breath. He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead as I nestled into his chest. 

“That was amazing…” I murmured, my voice drowsy with exhaustion. 

“Just wait until I fuck you again.” He chuckled, his cock already hardening again. 

“We’re just getting started, Princess.” 

that's not particularly true, but they nod like it is, all of them anxious to leave their abode with frank and monica's presence too overwhelming. "i thought i'd bring some food, just in case."

carl immediately swoops in, taking the tray of food from your outstretched arms and immediately bustling it over behind the kash n' grab's counter. lip clunks the back of his head with four fingers. "say thank you, asshat."

the younger brother mumbles manners under his breath before sliding onto an unbalanced barstool, peeling back the saran wrap with eager fingers.

you smile fondly at the boy, disappearing behind an aisle after receiving a chaste kiss against your cheekbone from lip, voyaging for a beverage to accompany your snacks. you don't notice a woman, whoever, perusing through the shelves, until you nearly collide shoulders, to which you immediately apologize. "i'm sorry," you murmur kindly, going to move around her.

"didn't realize prissy bitches like you were allowed around here," the older woman scoffs, peeking back at you from over her shoulder. "do you always go out in public looking like that?"

if she's referring to the skirt you've got on, your cheeks are painting with uncomfortable heat, and you turn away, arms crossing over the pink blouse that showcases a newly-purchased necklace. "i'm sorry?"

ian finds his way into the aisle, munching on a recently-opened bag of sour cream and onion chips, head cocked to the side. "the fuck you think you're talking to?"

the woman makes a sound not unlike a gasp, hand flying to her chest. "is that the way you talk to all of your customers?"

carl comes in on the other end, brownie crumbs still sticking to the corner of his lips, his fingers sticky with the stuff. "we got a karen?"

"you boys go on." the female scoffs, turning her angry gaze to you. "my problem lies elsewhere."

"my problem lies elsewhere," ian mocks in a higher-pitched tone as you shrink into the shelf behind you. "get the fuck out of here, no one asked for your high-strung opinion. and while you're at it, bend over so i can remove the 10-foot pole stuck up your ass."

The first time I saw Malachai, he was standing under the broken streetlight outside the convenience store on the edge of the Southside. It flickered above his head, throwing his shadow long and distorted across cracked pavement. Everyone in Riverdale knew who he was. Ghoulie. Trouble. The kind of name parents lowered their voices over. 

I had only just transferred to Southside High from the Northside that semester, my family downsizing after my Dad’s business went under. Nothside girls weren’t supposed to wander too far after dark. But I had always been bad at staying where I was told. I noticed him noticing me. And instead of looking away like everyone else did, I held his gaze. That was the first mistake. Or maybe it was the best one. 

I didn’t belong to either side anymore. The Northside girls had quietly removed me from their group chats when my address changed. The Southside kids looked at my polished shoes and clean backpack like I was playing dress-up. I floated somewhere in between. And Malachai watched. 

He didn’t approach me at school. He didn’t corner me in the hallway. He just lingered, leaning against lockers, sitting two rows behind me in class, watching with an intensity that should’ve felt threatening. Instead, it made me feel seen. One afternoon after school, I found him sitting on the hood of his car, engine off, cigarette between his fingers. 

“You keep staring.” I said, crossing my arms. 

He smirked. “You keep noticing.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment.” 

“Didn’t say it was.” 

I stepped closer anyway. Up close, he looked less like a rumor and more like a boy carrying too much weight on his shoulders. 

“You don’t scare me.” I said casually. 

His eyebrow lifted. 

“Everyone says that until they get close.” 

I tilted my head. “Maybe they just don’t know you.” 

For a split second, something flickered in his expression. Surprise. 

Being seen with Malachai wasn’t subtle. Whispers followed me down hallways. 

“Does she have a death wish?” 

“Nothside princess slumming it.” 

I ignored them. Because the more I talked to him, the more the rumors felt ridiculous. Yes, he had a temper. Yes, he got in fights. Yes, he carried himself like the world had wronged him. But he also… Held doors open when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. Walked me home without asking, keeping a careful distance like he didn’t want to assume. Brought me a hot coffee on a freezing morning and shrugged like it was nothing. 

“You’re not what they think.” I said one evening as we sat on the curb outside school. 

He scoffed. “You don’t know what they think.” 

“They think you’re dangerous.” 

His jaw tightened. 

I nudged his knee with mine. “You’re just protective. 

“Of what?” 

“Of what’s yours.” 

His gaze snapped to mine. 

“I’m not yours.” I added quickly. 

A slow grin curved his lips. “Not yet.” 

My stomach flipped. 

It happened on a night when the rain rolled in fast. I stayed late at the library finishing a paper. By the time I stepped outside, the sky had opened up. And there he was. Leaning against the brick wall like he’d been there all along. 

“You stalking me?” I called over the rain. 

“Maybe.” 

“You know that’s illegal, right?” 

He pushed off the wall, stepping into the downpour. “You shouldn’t walk home alone in this.” 

“I’ve lived here three months.” 

“And?” 

“And I can handle myself.” 

“Sure, princess.” He smirked. 

I should’ve been offended, but I wasn’t. We walked side by side, rain soaking through my jacket within seconds. At one point, lightning cracked across the sky, and I flinched. His hand brushed mine instinctively. Neither of them pulled away. 

We started spending more time together after that. Late-night drives. Sitting on the hood of his car overlooking Sweetwater River. He told me things he didn’t tell anyone else. About his Mom working double shifts. About how he hated feeling like he had to be the villain just because his Dad was the Ghoulie leader. I listened. Really listened. One night, we were sitting under the overpass while rain poured above them. 

“You ever get tired?” I asked softly. 

“Of what?” 

“Of being the bad guy.” 

I let out a humorless laugh. “I stopped caring a long time ago.” 

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

He looked at me. 

“You don’t scare me.” I said again, more serious this time. 

He studied my face like he was trying to find the lie. 

“You comfort me.”

The words settled between us, warm despite the cold air. His expression shifted. Not cocky. Not amused. Something raw. 

“Careful, princess.” He murmured. “You say stuff like that, I might start believing you.” 

“Maybe you should.” 

The tension built slowly. Lingering touches. Longer stares. His hand at the small of my back when someone bumped into me at school. My fingers brushed his when I handed him a milkshake. Everyone else noticed before we did. 

“You two gonna just circle each other forever?” A classmate muttered once. 

I rolled my eyes. But that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What would it feel like? Would he be rough? Gentle? Hesitant? Would he pull away first?

It started with a storm. Riverdale never did anything halfway. The sky was black by eight. Thunder rolled in thick waves. I found him near Sweetwater River, pacing near his car, hair already damp. 

“You’re going to get struck by lightning!” I called. 

“Worth it!” 

“For what?” 

He turned. 

“For this!” 

He moved closer. The rain started to slow. Just a mist at first. 

“You keep looking at me like you’re about to say something.” I said, heart pounding. 

“Maybe I am.” 

“Then say it.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his face. 

“You’re not supposed to look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m something good.” 

My breath caught. 

“I don’t see what everyone else sees.” I said. 

“And what do you see?” 

I stepped into his space, the rain picking up around us. 

“I see someone who’s tired of fighting.” 

His jaw tightened. 

“I see someone who’s tired of fighting.” 

His jaw tightened. 

“I see someone who protects the people he cares about.” 

The rain poured harder now, soaking through my shirt, plastering his curls to his forehead. 

“I see someone who thinks he’s too broken to deserve anything soft.” 

Thunder cracked overhead. 

“And you don’t think I am?” He asked quietly. 

I reached up, fingers brushing his cheek. 

“You don’t scare me, you comfort me.”

The words were barely louder than the rain. 

His breath hitched. 

He looked at me like I’d just undone him. 

“Y/N.” He warned softly. 

“What?” 

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” 

“Then show me.” 

That was all it took. 

He closed the distance slowly. Like he was giving me time to change my mind. I didn’t. His hand slid to my waist, warm and firm. My fingers tangled in his damp hair. The rain poured down between them. Our foreheads touched first. Breaths mingling. 

“Last chance.” He murmured. 

“For what?” 

“To walk away.” 

I smiled softly. 

“I’m not scared of you.” 

And then his lips were on mine. It wasn’t rough. It wasn’t rushed. It was hesitant at first, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed. I leaned in, deepening it, and something in him gave way. His grip tightened slightly. Her heart pounded. The rain soaked us both, but neither of us moved. He kissed me like he’d been holding it back for months. Like he wasn’t sure it was real. When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless. 

“You sure about this?” He asked, voice rough. 

I rested my forehead against his. 

“I’ve been sure.” 

He laughed softly, disbelief and relief tangled together. 

“You’re gonna ruin my reputation.” 

I smiled. “Maybe I want to.” 

"what's what?" the wind sifts through your hair, and lip catches a whiff of the flowery perfume slathered on your collarbones, and he rolls a tongue over his teeth.

he motions to the jewelry tucked neatly below your top, its pendant hidden from his prying gaze. "oh," your fingers drift over the bulge of it under the fabric, and your eyes cast down to the pavement. "just a necklace. something my mom got me. is that your house at the end of the street?"

your attempt to divert the conversation falls on deaf ears as lip tosses an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his bustling side. your mary janes slide awkwardly against the ground, and your cheeks flame with the sudden contact. "lemme see it," he purls, reaching over with his free hand to pull at the golden chain, not quite tugging it free.

"if i show you, are you gonna show me your house? or did we already pass it?" you twist your head over your shoulder, craning to see the disappearing line of houses and the blocks they fall into. "we should probably get started on the project.."

lip releases his hold on you, and you tilt awkwardly in the opposite direction with the lack of pressure on your side. "sure, kid. here, want a smoke?" he offers you a cigarette from the half-full pack in his hand, one already tilted between his sly lips.

you shake your head, noise wrinkling. "that stuff kills, y'know."

he shrugs, indifferent by the stray fact already printed on the box he's shoving in his pocket. "so, necklace. let's see it."

you huff, pulling it free, and the golden cross thuds against your sternum when it clunks back down. "there, you happy?"

lip hums his affirmation, trying to wrestle the cash into the squirrel fund but finding himself struggling. "fuck, didn't realize fiona made that much in tips. we should think about starting a new can or something. it's all the damn one's in there that take up all the space." he grunts, pushing the makeshift piggy bank back up onto its high shelf.

you push the caffeinated beverage in his direction and toe off your shoes. "oh, no, i contributed a bit. it's only fair.. i took like 5 showers last week alone. you can thank yourself for that one."

his immediate expression is a discontent one, thick brows knitting and hands stilling in their counting of bills. "what are you talking about? i told you - we don't need your money. take it and keep it, please." he goes to reach for the can again, but you're winding your arms around his middle, nose pushing between his pinched shoulder blades so that you can press a kiss there.

"lip." you murmur firmly, smoothing your hands over the bumpy planes of his ribcage. "i live here more than i live at my own house. it's only fair that i pay rent, no? and besides.." you retract, allowing the eldest gallagher to turn around and properly accept your clingy embrace. "who am i to say no to stealing ol' daddy's money?"

one, two, and then three locks later, you're tugging at the silver handle, and the gallagher clan is spilling in despite the barking commands from fiona to not do so. "at least take off your shoes!" she's the last to enter, taking the door handle from you and gently swinging it shut behind her. "i'm sorry. i told them not to."

"hey, no worries at all," you preen with a gentle smile, watching as they shed their dirt-ridden winter coats, salted snow boots leaving tracks with each step that they take. "is everything okay?"

lip grunts from behind you, hooking his hat upon the coat rack beside the door, fingers already pinching at your chin for a kiss. "you don't wanna know. are you good if we stay here for a few days? sorry for the kids, they were cold."

"you know you don't have to ask," you remind him, squeezing at his bicep. "i actually made some brownies in the kitchen, if you want some? mom and dad are out of town for the week - some big business trip or whatnot. you know the drill."

he catches onto the despondent frown that pulls at your lips, matching your expression as he ruffle at your hair. "thanks, baby. we kinda brought our stuff already.."

you laugh, stalking over to carl, who's already curled up on the couch. video game controller clutched between his hands. "no problem at all. hey buddy." you cover his ears with your palms to keep his head still, leaning down to smear a kiss over his brow. "you want some brownies?"

fiona heaves liam over the couch, now, plopping him next to his elder brother. "they laced or what? because i've got some serious shit to blow off."