90's kid. she/her Hi, this is a sideblog for all my fanfics and whatever I write. If you prefer to read on AO3, find me under the handle, hiddndaydreams. This is just for me to compile all the things I've written. **Please don't repost any of my stories.
Between the Headlines - smallville!clark kent x reader {1.5}
smallville!clark kent x (she/her) reader
1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4 | 1.5
Summary: Reader sneaks into Marcus's lab and gets caught.
Clark finally flew the last worker to safety, dust and debris still clinging to his hair and jacket. He dropped back behind a row of fire trucks, heart hammering from adrenaline.
His phone buzzed again.
He finally reached for it.
11 missed calls. 4 voicemails. 5 texts from her.
His blood ran cold.
He opened the last messageâthe photos. The lab with the large meteor rock encased in glass. The manufacturing. The large seeds. They pulsed with a sickly, bio-luminescent green.
And then nothing.
No follow-up.
âGodânoââ
Clark didnât think.
His boots tore chunks out of the floorboards as he broke into a sprint that blurred the world into a smear of grey and brown. The wind roared in his ears, a physical wall he had to punch through, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Every mile of road was a second he was losingâfear pounding through him with every second he was late.Â
He reached the hidden facility at quiet speed, skidding to a halt at the back entrance, his heels furrowing deep trenches into the gravel.
He hooked his fingers into the gap of the heavy industrial door. With a guttural grunt, he curled the metal open. The metal screamed, bolts snapping, then tossed the reinforced slab aside.
He stepped into the darkened corridor and closed his eyes, forcing the world to go quiet.
Come on, come onâwhere are you?
He heard the high-pitched whine of the fluorescent lights. The mechanical pulse of a heavy duty system, the low hum of a server. He looked through the walls, his pupils dilating as the concrete became translucent, revealing the veins of copper wiring and the skeletal steel beams.
He heard multiple heartbeatsâa few frantic. He sprinted down the stairwell, heat vision flickering at the edges of his sight as fear and anger twined tight in his chest.
A heartbeat. Too slow. Too quiet.
Clark scanned the levels of floors with his x-ray vision.
A crash echoed from several floors below.
Clark froze, trying to hone in on the sound.
He was sprinted toward the sound, a blur of motion as he dove into the stairwell and dropped six flights in less than a second, landing hard on the industrial floor deep beneath the lobby.
The basement.Â
The corridor was a tomb of rusted iron and flickering mercury-vapor lights. A pipe overhead hissed, venting a plume of steam that smelled of oil and old copper. Clark slowed his pace, his boots ghosting over the concrete. He didn't want a fight. He wanted her safe. Violence was a last resort, but the air around him seemed to hum with the pressure of his restraint.
âShe got pictures,â a voice muttered from around the corner, sharp with nerves. âBoss is gonna lose his mind.â
âDid you wipe the phone?â a second voice asked.
âAlready did. But we gotta figure out what to do with her.â
Clarkâs jaw tightened. In the silence, the sound of his knuckles cracking like dry branches snapping.
He leaned out just enough to see. Three men. One in a security uniform, the other two in heavy work jacketsâhired muscle. And then, he saw her.
She was slumped against a rusted metal support post, her wrists cinched tight with rope. Her head rested against the post, a dark bruise blooming across her cheek and the cut above her eyebrow dripped blood.
Clarkâs vision flashed of crimson. The rage was a physical weight in his chest, but he forced it down. He stepped out from the shadows, his silhouette cutting through the darkness.
âYou need to step away from her.â
All three men spun around toward his voice.
Clark stepped forward, eyes dark, expression carved from steel.
âMove,â he said again.
The first man lunged. Clark sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and flipped him onto his back so hard with a thwack when his body hit the floor.
The second grabbed a crowbar and swung it toward him.
Clark caught it mid-air. Didnât even look bothered. Just stared at the man holding itâannoyed, almost.
He snapped the crowbar in half with one hand.
The man froze. Clarkâs fist connected with his chestâclean, controlled, sending him flying backward into the concrete wall, knocking him unconscious.
The third man, the guard, panicked. He reached for her, pulling his gun to use her as leverage. But Clark was in front of him before the man could even aim at her.
He lifted the guy by the collar and slammed him against the wall, pinning him with one forearm.
âYou donât get to touch her,â Clark growled, voice low and terrifying. âEver.â
The manâs breath choked in his throat.
Clark tossed him hard, his body slamming right into a bunch of pipes.
Clarkâs chest heaved. He closed his eyes for a second, fighting back the adrenaline that wanted him to keep swinging. When he opened them, the red was gone.
Clark kneeled right in front of her, hands hovered inches from her face. They trembled slightly, as if he were afraid his touch might break her. He began to untie the ropes, his fingers moving with a delicate, impossible grace.
âHey,â he whispered, his voice cracking with a sudden, raw tenderness. âHey⊠Iâve got you.â
She came to with the taste of copper in her mouth and the ache of concrete in her bones. She slowly became aware of how her body ached and screamed with pain.
âIâm okay,â she said immediately.
The words came too fast. They were too practiced, a reflex of someone used to standing on their own. But the lie faltered. Her head was thrumming with a rhythmic, sickening ache, and the world was a blurred smear of grey through an eye already beginning to swell shut.
The silence that followed was heavy. The words hung in the air between them.
She pushed herself upright before he could stop her, ignoring the way her hands shook, the way her muscles protested. Fear still clung to her skin, cold and suffocating, but she swallowed it down, shoved it somewhere deep.
This was exactly what Clark warned her about, but she was stubborn and head-strong. And the last thing she wanted right now was another lecture from him.
Clarkâs eyes swept over herâtaking in the bruising already blooming around her cheek, the split skin at her lip, the dust and grime smeared across her clothes where sheâd been dragged. His jaw tightened, breath coming a little too fast.
âYouâre hurt,â he said quietly.
She forced a grinâwide, exaggerated, bright enough to hurt. âOh, please. You always show up at the right time.â She tried to sound breezy, light. âI wouldâve kicked their asses myself.â
Clark didnât smile.
He stepped closer, hands finally finding her arms, gentle but firm. âTake it easy. You need to sit. You need to let me look at you.â He urged her.
âIâm fine,â she insisted, pulling one arm free.
âYou should go to the hospital,â Clark said, louder now, worry threading through every word. âYou could have a concussion. Youâre bleedingââ
She looked down thenâjust for a secondâsaw the tremor she hadnât quite managed to hide. Her smile faltered, then snapped back into place.
âI just need to clean up,â she said quickly, already reaching for the door. She forced a smile over her shoulder, brittle but determined. âI feel disgusting.â
Clark didnât look convinced.
She gave his chest a light, playful shove, the kind sheâd done a thousand times before. âDonât fuss.â
Before he could argue, she slipped past him, moving fastâtoo fastâdown the hallway and into the bathroom. Clark couldnât do much but follow after her. But before he could get her to slow down, she slipped into the bathroomâthe door clicked shut behind her.
Clark stood there for a moment, chest tight, the echo of her forced smile burned into his mind.
Inside, she turned the faucet on full blast.
The sound filled the small space immediately, drowning out everything else. She gripped the edge of the sink, stared at her reflectionâblood on her lip, dirt smeared along her jaw, eyes too misty with everything she was refusing to feel.
Her head dropped forward as the adrenaline finally drained out of her system.
Her breath hitched.
Once.
Twice.
Then the dam broke.
She sucked in a shaky breath, pressing her mouth shut to muffle the sound as tears spilled over, hot and unstoppable. Fear, relief, humiliationâeverything sheâd forced down came rushing back all at once. Her shoulders trembled as she fought to stay silent, gasping against the porcelain, letting the water swallow the sound of her breaking.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pull herself back together.
Clark stayed right outside the bathroom, in the empty hallwayâfluorescent lights humming overhead. He told himself to give her space. Told himself she needed a moment.Â
Then he heard it.
A sharp, broken inhale.
So soft he almost convinced himself he imagined itâuntil another followed. A hitching breath. A sniffle she tried and failed to swallow.Â
Every sound cut straight through him.
She was trying so hard to be quiet. To hide it. To protect him from seeing how badly it had shaken her.
Clarkâs chest clutched painfully.
The realization hollowed him out.
Every muffled gasp landed like a blow. His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
Thisâthis was what sheâd been holding back. The brave face. The jokes. The forced smile meant to keep him from worrying. And now hearing the quiet way she fell apart when she thought she was aloneâdestroyed him.
If I had been faster.
The guilt hit hard.
If heâd checked his phone sooner.
His jaw clenched.
This is on me.
He could see it all too clearlyâthe moment sheâd called, the missed vibrations in his pocket while he was saving lives across the city.Â
âIf Iâd just gone with you,â he whispered under his breath, voice cracking despite himself. âYou wouldnât have been alone.â
Another muffled sob slipped through the door.
Clark squeezed his eyes shut, forehead dropping against the cool tile wall beside the frame. His breath shook as guilt wrapped tight around his ribs, heavy and suffocating.
He hated that she thought she had to be strong for him.
Hated that she felt like she had to hide this pain.
Hated that the one time he wasnât there when she needed him most, she paid for it.
âI shouldâve protected you,â he murmured, barely louder than the water.
He stayed right thereârooted, listening, guarding the door like a silent promise.
The water shut off.
Clark straightened immediately, every sense sharpening.
A moment passed. Then the lock clicked.
The door opened and she stepped out, face freshly washed, hair damp at the temples. The grime was gone. The tears were gone. What remained was a carefully arranged version of herselfâshoulders squared, chin lifted, a smile fixed firmly in place.
âSee?â she said lightly, like nothing had happened at all. âGood as new.â
Clark didnât comment on how her eyes were still a little too red. Or how her smile didnât quite reach them.
Without a word, he slipped out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders.
She blinked, surprised. âClarkââ
âItâs cold,â he said simply, already adjusting it so it sat properly, careful not to brush the bruises he knew were there. His hands lingered for half a second, grounding. Protective.
She huffed a quiet laugh. âYouâre acting like Iâm made of glass.â
âNo,â he replied. âIâm acting like you went through something.â
She tugged the jacket closer, inhaling without thinking. âWell, if weâre done with the dramatic rescue portion of the night,â she said, trying for breezy, âIâm starving. A burger and fries might actually bring me back to life.â
He nodded once. âWeâll get food.â
She paused. âWe?â
âYes, we. We're getting food and then Iâm taking you home,â Clark continued, tone calm but immovable.Â
She rolled her eyes. âYou donât have to fuss over me. I canââ
âYouâre not going home alone,â he said, not raising his voice but not leaving room for debate either.Â
She opened her mouth to argue.
He met her gazeâsteady, unyielding, threaded with worry he wasnât even trying to hide anymore.
âIâm serious,â he said quietly. âJust⊠let me do this.â
Something in his voiceâsoft but firmâcut through her defenses. She hesitated, then sighed.
âFine,â she muttered. âBut if you start lecturing me, Iâm ordering onion rings too.â
The corner of his mouth twitched. âDeal.â
He gestured toward the exit, positioning himself just slightly to her side as they walkedâclose enough to steady her if she faltered, careful enough not to crowd her.
She leaned into the jacket without realizing it.
And for the first time since the night had gone wrong, Clark allowed himself to breatheâbecause at least now, she was with him.
Summary: Eddie is starting to feel emotions that stem from her, it's affecting him in a way he's never felt before.
Note: Sorry for the wait, I think I'm happy with where I landed. I hope this long chapter makes up for the wait!
Warnings: Supernatural, demons, SMUT MDNI
The days grew lighter between them. Mornings felt easier. There was a weightless, unspoken comfort in the way they inhabited the same space.
The couch had become their spot, a routine. Nights like this were easyâshe was curled up into his chest, legs folded under her. Eddie had his usual sprawl, long legs out across the coffee table. An arm slung along the back of the couch loosely it looked lazy⊠but it happened to rest just above her shoulders.
This time, the movie was a rom-com she had pickedâsomething she claimed was âcomfort food for the soul.â He grumbled when it started, muttering about âall this cheesy crap,â but now he was watching it without complaint, eyes occasionally snuck glances of her profile.Â
The two main characters on the screen are on a very romantic and tension-filled date. The big smiles, flushed cheeks, bashful gazes. They were magnetic. It was like seeing magic on the screen and it made her wonder if demons could even feel those emotions.Â
She turned to him, a curious glint in her eyes.
âDo you feel the same things humans do?â
Eddie tilted his head, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth as he leaned inâclose enough that his breath warmed her cheek, his dark eyes locked on hers.
âLike what?â he asked.
âLike⊠love. Or is that just a human thing?â
âLove?â His grin widened. âThat feels more like a human thing. Maybe desire. Thatâs baked into our greedy little nature.â He said, eyebrows wiggling slightly.
She nodded slowly, studying him. âAnd you? Can you feel either?â
He wasn't sure if he was ready to share that he had been feeling emotions that stemmed from her lately. He didn't have a reason why, he's never had this ability before her. And it felt more complicated than he was prepared to go into.
âWant to find out?â he murmured, voice lowâhalf a challenge, half tease.
Her pulse stuttered. For a moment, she held his gaze, something unspoken sparking in the air between them. Then she forced a shrug, turning her attention back to the screen, trying to smother the flutter in her stomach.
âIâd be shocked if you felt affection for anyone but yourself.â she joked.
He arched a brow, feigning offense, though he didnât miss the way her heartbeat had quickened. Letting the silence hang, he let his gaze linger on herâuntil a sly grin cut across his face.
âI can think of one person,â he muttered under his breath.
She caught it, but kept smiling at the screen, but Eddieâs eyes stayed fixed on her. He could feel itâthe soft swell of affection she carried, the lightness in her chest when she was near him. It made his stomach twistânot unpleasantly, but with a strange, restless flutter he didnât yet understand.
It sank into him and stirred in his chest. His arm tightened almost subtly behind her, fingers brushing the edge of her shoulder as if he was testing the boundary.
ââŠHuh,â he murmured, mostly to himself.
âWhat?â she asked, glancing at him.
âNothing.â He gave a small shake of his head, but the corner of his mouth tugged like he was suppressing something.Â
It was strangeâhow vividly he could feel her emotions, as if they had seeped beneath his skin. The weight in her chest pressed against his own.
Instinctively, his arm tightened around her, a steady, grounding pull until she was tucked even closer against his chest. He could feel the warmth of her cheek through his shirt, the soft sigh she gave as if she let herself lean into the comfort he offered.
He wasnât sure if it was just the proximityâher thigh brushing hisâor something else threading its way into him, slow and insistent. Whatever it was, it filled his chest like carbonation, tiny bursts under his ribs that made him restless in his own skin.
The happy music swelled. His own fingertips tingled like he had grabbed onto something electrifying, though all he touched was her. And yet, her happiness was loud enough in his senses that he could almost taste it.
The scene on the screen reached its climaxâthe long-awaited kiss. The coupleâs lips met in a slow, electric collision that seemed to pull every breath from the room. Eddieâs eyes locked on the screen, every muscle tense as he felt the current shift around him.
He could feel her beside himâa wave of heat rising from deep within her, pulsing beneath her skin like a fire awakening. It was the rush of her breath catching, the quickening beat of her heart that echoed faintly through the space between them.
As the lovers on the screen retreated to the privacy of their room, the passion intensified. Their bodies tangled, hands roaming, lips never breaking apart. The air thickened with desire and longing, every movement dripping with carnal hunger.
Heat lingered in the airâunspoken, thick. She felt a slow curl of warmth low in her stomach, spilling downward until it made her thighs press together. A tiny, betraying shift in her seat.
Eddie felt it instantly.
His shoulders went rigid, eyes locked on the screen in sudden alarm, like heâd been caught somewhere he wasnât meant to be. The sensation unraveled something inside himâsomething unguarded and unfamiliar. His chest tightened. A strange tension coiled low in him, sharp and insistent.
He could feel the ache building beneath her ribs, the heat spreading through her core.
It was raw and urgentâand utterly impossible to ignore.
He swallowed hard, his breath shallow, and yet he couldnât look away.
He wasnât used to thisâthis raw, aching pull that was something far more complicated. The way her emotions bled into him, made his skin tingle and his breath hitch.
He stole a quick glance at her, careful not to let his gaze linger. She was oblivious to the storm inside him, her eyes fixed on the screen, lips slightly parted as the scene played out. The rise and fall of her chest, the heat blooming on her cheeksâit all tightened the coil within him. It made his skin prickle and his pulse stutter.
Control, he told himself. Donât lose control.
Eddieâs body was wound tight, every muscle coiled like a spring ready to snap. The heat radiating from her, it felt like a simmering desire that flooded through her veins and seemed to course straight into him. It hummed beneath his skin, a fierce, relentless rhythm that filled the hollow inside him with wantâa yearning unlike anything heâd known before.Â
The tension inside him was electricâpart frustration, part aching craving. His fingers itched to trace the curves of her skin the way the couple on the screen did, to feel the softness beneath his touch and the tremble of need in her breath. Restraint was a fragile thread, and he was teetering dangerously close to losing his grip.
On the screen, the couple moved with hungerânaked bodies tangling together, rolling and shifting in perfect, aching sync. Every sigh and moan from the TV seemed to thrum in the air between them.
Eddieâs cheeks flushing hot, his hands curled into fists, knuckles white, fighting the urge to move them. He could feel the tightening in his pants grow with every sound, every movement on the screen.
The subtle heat of her skin beneath his arm, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath. It was both a balm and a torment. Her racing heartbeat seemed to set a new fire in his veins, demanding attention, demanding release.
Beside him, she shifted slightly again, her hands curled over her knees, trying to wipe the sweat from her palms.Â
The music swelled, notes quickening, the on-screen lovers caught in the push toward their breaking point, their moans and sighs getting louder and louderâ
Then she stood abruptly and shut off the tv with the remote, then stretched her arms high with a deliberately lazy yawn.
âIâm so tired,â she said, feigning exhaustion. âI should get ready for bed.â
Eddie caught her wrist before she could step away.
He tugged gently, drawing her back until she settled into his lap, the air between them snapping taut.
âLiar,â he murmured. âI can feel it radiating off you.â
Her breath caught.
Something charged flickered between themâheat in their eyes, unspoken and simmering. Her hands slid up his chest, and she found herself lost in his gaze. There was something there she hadnât seen before. Darker. Wanting. Unguarded.
Eddieâs hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of her mouth. When she leaned into his palm, his gaze dropped, fixed on the plush invitation of her lips. They parted, drawing his thumb inside. Eddieâs breath hitched at the sudden, wet heat, and a shaky exhale escaped him as the silk of her tongue lapped against the pad of his thumb.
She was lost in the depth of his brown eyes. This was a side of Eddie sheâd never seenâa look that sent a surge of excitement through her, making the ache between her thighs impossible to ignore.
âYouâre a troublemaker,â he murmured, leaning forward until their foreheads rested together. His eyes fluttered shut as his lips grazed the softness of her cheek, the hunger in his chest sharpening into a desperate need for relief.
âYour heart is racing,â he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.
She pulled back, her lips retreating from his thumb with a soft pop. The sound echoed straight to his groin, sparking a rhythmic twitch of excitement. He nuzzled into the curve of her neck, peppering her skin with slow, tender kisses that made the throb in his groin grow uncontrollable.
She shifted, settling more fully against him to close the remaining space. His hands slid from her thighs to her hips in a steady, possessive grip. A soft gasp broke from her at the sensation of his rough fingertips pressing into her skin.
âEddie,â she breathed, his name a ragged plea. The softness of his mouth made her melt; she instinctively tipped her head back, offering him more.
Her fingers tangled in his long curls, brushing the small, hidden horns at his crown. He shudderedâthe sensitivity there catching him off guard. In response, he rolled his hips, a deep and slow grind, his fingers digging into her hips to anchor her.
âGod, EddieâŠâ Her eyes squeezed shut, voice trembling as she lost herself in the friction of their bodies and the tenderness of his touch.
His lips traced the slope of her shoulder, his hand bunching the fabric of her shirt to claim more skin. She arched into him, hands anchoring him close, basking in the heat of his touch. Every kiss left a tingle in its wake, a slow-burn fuse that made the ache between her thighs sharpen into a demand.
She rocked against him, desperate for friction, but the layer of denim was a barrier. His hips bucked up against her, slow and delicious of a roll. He could feel the heat emitting from her core.Â
âEddie, pleaseâŠâ she whined, her body a trembling mess beneath him.
He hovered over her, watching the way her breath hitched. âPlease what, sweetheart?â He let a smirk tug at his mouth, enjoying the power of the moment.
Eddieâs hands slid beneath the hem of her shirt. She stripped it over her head in one fluid motion, her back sinking into the cushions as he pressed her down. He didn't stop, she was intoxicating. His mouth left a damp trail over her ribs, down the sensitive dip of her stomach.
Her jaw clenched, a challenge sparking in her eyes. His smirk vanished when her hand dived beneath the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers curled around himâhot, heavy, and straining against the zipper.
âNot so smug now, are ya?â
Eddie hissed, a low, guttural sound as he bucked into her palm. Her thumb circled the crown of him, smearing the slick heat of his arousal against his skin until he was blinded by it. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his groans loud and shameless in the quiet room.
âShit, that feelsââ
He didn't finish, he couldnât. All he wanted was to rid of any barrier between him and her. He worked the buttons with frantic hands, kicking the denim away as she leaned up to capture his mouth. The kiss was deep and uncoordinated, a tangle of tongues and teeth.
âI need you,â he rasped against her lips.
He didn't wait for an answer. His fingers hooked into the elastic of her shorts, stripping them away with an impatient tug. She arched her hips, shedding the last of her clothes in a feverish blur of movement. He kicked his own clothes aside, and then there was nothing left but the sudden, electric shock of skin meeting skin.
He didn't let her stay still. Catching her by the waist, he spun her around, pulling her back flush against his chest. She fit perfectly in the curve of himâthe heavy, pulsing heat of his length nestled against her ass.
His hand began a slow, possessive descent. It traveled the trembling span of her stomach, dipping lower until his fingers found the soft heat between her thighs. He didn't rush. Instead, he traced agonizingly slow circles, his fingertips just barely grazing her slick folds, dipping in only deep enough to tease, to torment, to find exactly where she craved him most.
Her head fell back against his shoulder, a broken breath escaping her as she watched the shadows of their bodies move in the dark.
âLook at yourself,â he whispered, his voice vibrating through her spine. He gestured with his free hand toward the blank TV screen across the room. âYou see how filthy you look?â
Her gaze drifted to the dark glass.
She saw the way his arms held her, the way she clung to him for balance as he worked his fingers through her. His fingertips coated with her arousal, glistening and slick. He slowly slid one finger into her, groaning at the sensation of her walls tight around his thick finger. Her teeth sunk into the plush of her bottom lip, muffling the moan back.
Her eyes could hardly leave his, the way his eyes caught the lightâa vibrant, glowing red that simmered with a predatorâs hunger. His finger curled into her, working her with patience, savoring the way her body responded to his touch. His finger pumped faster, matching the rhythm of the rock of her hips.Â
âI want to feel you, Eddie.â
She leaned back and lifted her hips, her weight shifting as she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his cock. The slick heat of her slid along his length, coating him, a silent invitation that broke his remaining resolve.
He lined his tip against her folds, and with a sharp, determined tilt of her hips, he pushed in. Her back arched at the sharp stretch, her nails carving crescents into his forearms. A breathless, broken gasp tore from her throat.
âO-oh f-fuck!â Her voice broke, the fullness of him punched the air out of her lungs.
Eddie felt her walls seize around himâtight, pulsing, and impossibly warm. Sensing her strain, he kept his fingers moving against her, tracing slow, grounding circles against her bundle of nerves to soothe away the tension.Â
The distraction worked.Â
One hand kneaded her breast and the other stroking her clit, Eddie felt every tremble of her hips, every time her breath hitched. The vibration shot straight to his cock. The sensations overwhelmed her in the best way, leaving her dizzy with want.
As the initial sting faded into a heavy, throbbing ache, she began to sink, taking him inch by inch.
His breath hitched, turning shaky and shallow. He fought for control, but her velvety grip was a vice, holding him so perfectly it felt as though they were made for this exact moment.
âOh God, Eddie!â she cried out, her entire frame shuddering as she finally bottomed out against his base.
The sensation was overwhelming. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his tongue flickering out to taste the salt of her skin, his hands cupping the swell of her breasts. She sighed into the touch, pushing her chest into his palms as he teased her nipples into hard, sensitive peaks.
âSâgood⊠so good for meâŠâ He mumbled against the side of her head.
She began to moveâa slow, experimental roll of her hips that tested his depth. The friction ignited a fire between them, their joined moans the only sound in the quiet room. Her body writhed, her legs splaying wider until he hooked a hand under her thigh, hoisting her leg up to change the angle, allowing him to drive upward with bruising force.
âLook at you,â Eddie panted, his voice a rough edge near her ear. âTaking all of me.â
Her gaze cracked open, finding their reflection once more. The image was raw, filthy, erotic. His hands holding her open, the glistening sight of him sliding in and out of her. The coiling heat in her gut tightened into a frantic, brewing storm.
Sweat slicked their skin, the rhythmic slap of their bodies a primal symphony. He snapped his hips up, meeting her descent with urgent, driving thrusts. She gripped his arms for an anchor, her eyes glazed and unfocused as he filled her completely, pounding into her with a desperate, controlled precision.
The air in the room grew heavy, thick with the scent of salt, sex and heat. Every thrust was deeper now, more rhythmic, a relentless drive that pushed her toward the edge. She was no longer just watching the reflection, she was lost in the sensation of himâthe way he filled her until there was no room left for breath.
âEddie, IâIâm clââ
Her voice broke, a frantic sob catching in her throat. She gripped his forearms so hard her knuckles turned pale, her head thrashing back against his shoulder. The coiling tension in her lower stomach snapped into a sharp, electric pulse.
âGive it to me, baby,â he growled, his own control fraying at the seams.
He increased the pace, his hips snapping forward with a raw, primal urgency. He watched her in the dark glass of the TVâthe way her eyes rolled back, the way her chest heaved as the first wave of her release crashed over her. Her walls began to ripple, a series of tight, rhythmic contractions that clamped down on him like a vice.
The sensation shattered him.
Eddie let out a low, guttural roar against the column of her neck, his body locking tight as he buried himself as deep as he could go. He surged into her, one last, desperate heave as his own climax tore through him, white-hot and blinding. He filled her to the brim, fucking his cum deep inside her.
She cried out his name, her body vibrating against his, the two of them anchored together with the evidence of their wreckage leaking down their legs. Their hips continued to rock slowly, riding out the high of their orgasm.
Slowly, the world bled back in. The sound of their jagged, synchronized breathing filled the silence. Eddie didnât pull away; he slumped forward, his forehead resting against the back of her head, his arms still wrapped fiercely around her as if he were afraid she might vanish if he let go.
In the reflection, the glowing red of his eyes began to dim, softening into a warm, exhausted darkness.
âYou okay?â he whispered, his voice still a gravelly wreck.
She turned slightly in the circle of his arms, looking up at him. The vibrant red in his eyes had faded to a soft, burnt umber, searching her face with an intensity that felt more intimate than the sex. She reached up, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw.
âYeah,â she breathed, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. âMore than okay. I didn't know you had that in you, Eddie.â
Eddie let out a short, self-deprecating huff of a laugh, resting his forehead against hers. âItâs your fault. You brought that out of me.â
He went quiet for a moment, his fingers idly tracing patterns over her skin, his expression softening into something dangerously close to devotion.
She simply tucked her head under his chin and gripped his arm tighter, the silence between them no longer charged with hunger, but with something much heavierâand much more permanent.
Between the Headlines - smallville!clark kent x reader {1.4}
smallville!clark kent x (she/her) reader
1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3 | 1.4
Summary: She failed to persuade Marcus to show her the lab he's building after another date with him. But when he reschedules a dinner date with her, she uses the opportunity to sneak into the lab.
The yacht cut smoothly through the dark waters, she looked up at the sky. Above, the night sky was clear of clouds and lit with endless stars, scattered like diamonds.
The deck was lit low with warm string lights and dinner laid out with effortless luxuryâlinen and crystal catching the moonlight.
Just the two of them.
And the captain, discreetly steering the yacht in the background.
Marcus leaned back in his seat, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, relaxed.Â
âRemind me to take you out to dinner like this more often,â he said easily, lifting his glass. âThis beats any restaurant in the city.â
She smiled, genuine this time. âHard to argue with this view.â
He followed her gaze upward, eyes reflecting stars. âYou know, the first time I saw a sky untouched by city lights was abroad.â
âYeah? Where?â she prompted, resting her chin in her palm, eyes fully focused on him.
âVietnam,â he said, amused. âI was twenty-one, completely convinced I knew everything. Took the wrong bus, ended up in a village where no one spoke English and I hadnât eaten in ten hours.â
She laughed softly. âThat sounds⊠ominous.â
âIt was,â he grinned. âUntil an old woman decided I looked pathetic enough to feed. She sat me down, handed me a bowl of rice. And I ate the whole bowl before she even brought out the other homemade dishes. Best meal of my life.â
He gestured with his fork as he continued. âLater, she taught me how they grow it, the rice and produce. Entire communities working in rhythmâflooded fields, timing, patience.â
Her smile softened, eyes intent on him now. âYou talk about it like it changed you.â
âIt did,â he said simply. âI realized thenâfood isnât just survival.â His gaze sharpened, then softened again. âI knew what I wanted to do after that.â
She studied him, genuinely impressed. âMost people donât find their calling that young.â
âI was lucky,â he replied. âAnd stubborn.â
She laughed, then tilted her head, playful curiosity returning. âWhich makes me wonderâŠâ
Here it was. Light. Casual. Coy.
âWhen are you finally going to show off your lab?â she asked, smiling teasingly. âIâm dying to see what youâve built.â
Marcus pausedâthen he smiled, smooth as glass. âSoon.â
She raised a brow, sporting a tiny pout. âThatâs what you said last time.â
âI know, Iâm sorry babe,â he said gently, reaching over to affectionately caress her cheek. âItâs just⊠not exactly safe. Experimental equipment and security protocols. With everything going on, Iâd never forgive myself if you got hurt.â
His hand brushed hers as he spokeâwarm, reassuring, disarming.
She let out a soft sigh, feigning disappointment. âFine... Youâre very protective.â
âI am of the people I care about,â he replied without hesitation.
She met his gaze, searching his eyes for any deception, but if there were, he hid it well. âThen Iâll be patient.â
His smile widened, clearly pleased.
Above them, the stars watched in silence as the yacht drifted onwardâhis trust building slowly, beneath the illusion of romance.
The next morning brought a drizzle across Metropolis, and with it, a text from Marcus, cancelling a dinner date they had scheduled.
Sorry, had to fly out unexpectedly. Wonât be in the city today. Letâs reschedule our dinner when I come back.
She stared at her phone, then slowly smiled.
Perfect.
No Marcus. No assistant hovering. No prying eyes.
Just her, her instincts, and an opportunity to sneak into the lab without his personal guards around.
She instantly called Clark.
It rang once⊠twiceâŠ
No answer.
âPick up, ClarkâŠâ
She tried again, pacing her living room with her bag half-open and her jacket thrown over one arm. This was the opportunity she was waiting for this entire time. Her source had given her the location of the lab, blueprints to the building. Now she just needed pictures, solid evidence.Â
Ring. Ring.
Still nothing.
On the other side of the world, Clark was currently holding the weight of a collapsing crane, shouting orders to terrified workers scrambling out from the wreckage. He didnât even feel his phone vibrating in his pocket.
She huffed, irritated and impatient. âUgh. Iâll justâleave a voicemail.â
The tone beeped.
âClark, itâs meâlisten, Marcus is out of town, his lab will be wide open. Iâm heading there now to check things out while I have the chance. Meet me when you get this, okay? Donât freak out, Iâll be fine.â
She hung up before she could talk herself out of it, slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed out the door.
When she got there, the building was too quiet. The kind of quiet that echoed and felt all too ominous.
The doors slid open to a world of sterile steel and glass. The air was unnaturally cold, smelling of something earthy, a ting of chemical and wet earth. Long, UV lights hung from the ceiling, casting deep, jagged shadows across rows of hydroponic vats.
She slipped inside, her boots silent on the polished floor. She moved past the vats, where pale, green glowing vines twisted around pipes.
In the center of the room sat a massive vessel that looked like intricate technology. Beside it, a glass containment unit pulsed with a rhythmic, sickly green light.
There it was. A jagged mound of raw meteor rock, humming with a low-frequency vibration that made her heart race.
She crouched by the central terminal, her fingers flying across the pristine glass. A hidden compartment hissed open, revealing a metal tray of what looked like seedsâbut they were shimmering, coated in a fine, iridescent green dust.
Meteor-infused seeds.
She pulled her phone out, the screenâs glow reflecting in her wide eyes. She began skimming the digital schematics displayed on the monitor. It was all there. The chemical process to turn the rock into "magic seeds," the maps of the local farms slated for the first "miracle" harvest, and the redacted medical reportsâhundreds of themâshowing cellular mutation in test subjects.
Her pulse spiked. She snapped photos of the glowing seeds, the flash of her camera reflecting off the glass containment units like a strobe light.
Flash. The green rock pulsed. Flash. The medical reports glared back.
Outside in the corridor, a security guardâs shadow lengthened against the frosted glass of the lab door. He stopped. The artificial flicker from inside wasn't part of the lab's idle cycle. He reached for his holster and stepped toward the light.
She didn't hear the hiss of the pressurized seal breaking. She was too busy hitting Send on the file dump to Clark.
I think I got it. The meteor rock made into seeds. Everything, Clark. Sending you pics. Get here asap.
The progress bar crawledâ98%... 99%...
The door swung inward with a heavy, silent vacuum pop.
âHey!â
She froze, turningâ
He grabbed her arm. Hard.
âYoure not a lab tech. You got no business here.â
âIâ Iâm justââ
He didnât buy it. Not for a second.
âCome on.â He dragged her out into the hallway.
Before she could protest, two men from the night crewâsketchy, not actualâstepped out of the storage room.
âBoss said no trespassers,â one of them muttered.
Her eyes widened. âI didnâtââ
A fist slammed into her stomach, knocking the air out of her. The security guard hissed, âIdiot, not hereâtake her downstairs.â
First, I have to apologize for taking forever to update. I ended up writing my last few chapters because I didn't like it. Secondly, my next chapter is a smut chapter. And I'm not really happy with what I have so far, so that's why it's taking so long.
This chapter is actually going to be quite long, so hopefully when I post it, you all will like it. Thanks for your patience!
By nightfall, the house felt like a command center.
Buckyâs team was still at workâscreens glowing, voices low, data threading itself into something sharp and undeniable. Rioâs name appeared again and again, tangled in delayed shipments, rerouted trucks, dock workers suddenly calling in sick. Patterns formed.Â
She watched it all from the doorway, arms folded, jaw set.
 âHeâs choking our supply. Heâs either selling to a new player or heâs trying to be the new player.â she said.
Bucky nodded. âI think heâs trying to pull rank and heâs sloppy. That makes him dangerous.â
He looked to her, it was her call to make the next move.
âLetâs get our families,â she said quietly. âTonight.â
Dinner was ready by the time the first cars arrived. Her family arrived first. Buckyâs family followed soon after. Handshakes and greetings were exchanged. Small talk floated politely across the table.Â
The table was set with careful precisionâpolished silver, heavy plates, wine breathing in crystal decanters. The food was plated, untouched, waiting.
Only when the doors were shut and the last phone placed face-down on the sideboard did the air change.
She rose from her seat.
âThanks for coming,â she began evenly, âafter my meeting with Browne this morning, something happened.â
Every gaze found her.
âAt the park.â
Bucky leaned forward beside her. âWe were followed,â he said. âClose. Intentional. Aggressive.â
A murmur rippled through the table.
âWe lost them,â he continued. âBut they wanted to be seen.â
She took over smoothly. âWe traced it back to Rio.â
âHeâs been interfering with shipments through the docks,â she said, turning slightly so everyone could see the screen Buckyâs team had prepared. âDelays. Labor disruptions. Products going missing.â
Her father frowned. âIâve never heard of this Rio.â
âHe works for Browne,â she replied. âOr did. And his recklessness has drawn too much attention. Especially with the shipment scheduled to arrive tomorrow night.â
A pause.
âSo this is Browneâs mess,â Buckyâs father said carefully. âAre we sure heâs not behind it?â
Bucky leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. âRio isnât acting with Browneâs blessing.â
A pause.
âHeâs counting on it,â Bucky continued. âOn the division. He wants us fighting Browne while he reroutes our product and moves it himself.â
Her father studied the screen. Then her. âSo,â he said, âwhatâs the play?â
She exchanged a glance with Buckyâone of those quiet, seamless moments of alignment that no longer needed words.
âWe isolate him,â she said. âQuietly. For now.â
Bucky picked up without missing a beat. âWe freeze his access to labor. Identify every contractor, every runner, every middleman tied to him.â
âAnd make it clear,â she added, âthat choosing him comes at a cost.â
âAnd Browne?â Her father asked.
âHeâs informed,â she said. âAnd embarrassed, but heâs willing to let us lead.â
A faint smile tugged at Buckyâs mouth. âWe give him room to save face. In return, he lets us handle his problem.â
Maps appeared on the screen. Dock routes. Timelines. Where people are stationed.
They spoke together nowâworking together, adjusting strategy in real time. She flagged vulnerabilities. Bucky countered with contingencies. Watching them, Buckyâs father leaned back slightly, studying the pair of them like a finished equation.
âTheyâre thinking three moves ahead,â he remarked over to her father, clearly impressed and proud.
She caught Buckyâs glance again, something warm flickering beneath the steel.
âItâs time we restore the balance.â she said finally.Â
âAnd remind everyone,â Bucky added, voice level, unmistakable, âthat stealing from us has consequences.â
The room slowly filled with nods.
Later, as the families filtered out after dinner and the house settled back into hush, she found herself standing beside Bucky near the window, city lights stretching below them like a living grid.
âWe handled that well,â he said softly.
âYeah, we did, didnât we?â She beamed.
He glanced down at her, something unguarded settling into his expression. The sharp edges he wore so easily around others softened, just a little.
âI think theyâre starting to see it now,â he said.
She tipped her chin up. âSee what?â
âThat this works,â he replied without hesitation. âThat we work.â
The certainty in his voice made her chest tighten in the best way.
âYeah,â she murmured, slipping her fingers into his hand. Her touch was deliberate, grounding. âI think they are.â
His blue eyes lingered on her like he was committing the moment to memoryâwarm, proud, quietly awed. Without a word, his arm slid around her waist and drew her closer until she fit against him perfectly, like this was always where she was meant to be.
âYou were incredible tonight,â he said softly, warm and reassuring. âThe way you command a room⊠the way you think.â
Her fingers curled into the front of his jacket as she looked up at him, really lookedâat the strength in his jaw, the sincerity in his eyes, the care he wasnât trying to hide anymore.
âWell Iâve got a great partner. And I trust you.â she said quietly.
That was all it took.
He leaned down slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didnât. Instead, she rose onto her toes, meeting him halfway. Their lips touched in a soft, unhurried kissâwarm and careful, like a promise being sealed rather than claimed. His hand tightened at her waist, steadying her, while hers slid up to his collar, holding him there just a moment longer.
It wasnât rushed. It was intentional. A moment that brought them closer together, a step towards the future awaiting them.
The city looked different at nightâflattened into grids of light and shadow, every street a vein, every intersection a choice.
The Escalade sat two blocks from the docks, engine idling low, windows tinted dark enough to turn the world outside into a muted film reel. Inside, the air was cool, calm, deliberate. The faint glow from a tablet lit the center console, surveillance feeds split into neat squaresâdock cameras, traffic cams, a drone angle drifting overhead like a patient bird of prey.
She sat in the passenger seat, legs crossed, posture relaxed enough to fool anyone who didnât know her. Bucky drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the console. His jaw was set, eyes steady, tracking movement without needing to lean closer.
On-screen, Rioâs men were right on time.
âTruck just crossed Pier Seven,â one of Buckyâs men murmured through the earpiece. âSame plates we flagged this morning.â
The plan unfolded exactly as theyâd designed it.
The labor shift they expected had been replaced with Buckyâs own men. It was an unexpected hiccup for Rio and his crew, and it stalled them. Now, they were boxed in by inconvenience that felt accidental.
On another feed, Rio appeared.
He stepped into frame with the kind of confidence that came from believing he still had room to maneuver. He barked sharply into his phone, pacing near the container yard, irritation etched into every line of his body.
She leaned closer to the screen. âThere he is.â
Headlights flared at the edge of the feedâblack SUVs rolling in, unmarked, surgical. Doors opened. Men moved fast and quiet, coordinated in a way Rioâs people never were. It was easy to sneak up on them through sharp precision.
Rio tried to run.
He made it three steps.
Hands slammed him against the side of a container, metal ringing out across the yard. His phone clattered to the ground. The fight drained out of him almost immediately.
âPackage secured,â the voice confirmed. âIncluding Rio and his crew.â
She shot Bucky a victorious smile and reached for the door handle. âThatâs our cue.â
Bucky killed the engine.
They stepped out together, the night air sharp with salt and oil and cold steel. The docks loomed around them, towering containers stacked like monuments to order and control. Floodlights cast harsh white across the concrete, illuminating Rio and his crew where they knelt, hands bound, faces tight with fury and fear.
Their presence shifted the space immediately. She walked beside him, heels clicking softly against the pavement, her expression unreadable.
Rio looked up first. His bravado cracked when he saw them.
âThis is a misunderstandingââ he started.
She stopped in front of him.
âPretty bold misunderstanding, Rio.â she said calmly.Â
Rio swallowed hard, eyes flicking between them. âY-you set me up.â
Bucky tilted his head slightly. âYou disrupted our supply and skimmed our product.â
âAnd followed us,â she added. âThatâs mistake after mistake.â
Rio scoffed weakly. âYou think Browneâs gonna let this stand? Youâll start a war.â
She crouched slightly, bringing herself eye level with him. Her voice never rose.
âHe sent us to clean up and take care of you.â
That did it.
Rioâs shoulders sagged, the reality settling in at last.
Bucky straightened, signaling his men. âTake them.â
As Rio and his crew were hauled to their feet and escorted away, she watched with resolve. When the yard finally quieted again, she let out a breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding.
Bucky turned to her.
âYou okay?â
She nodded. âYeah.â
They stood there for another beat, the city humming beyond the docks, the flow of power quietly corrected. Their incoming shipment arrived on time and was handled properly with their own group of trusted crew. Now that personnel had been cleaned up, they trusted Browne to follow through.
Bucky opened the car door for her, one hand resting briefly at the small of her backâgrounding, familiar, steady.
As they pulled away, the surveillance screens went dark one by one.
This time, everyone would think twice before moving against them again.
Between the Headlines - smallville!clark kent x reader {1.3}
smallville!clark kent x (she/her) reader
1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3
Summary: She returns home after a successful interview dinner with Marcus Hughes, but she finds Clark waiting for her at her front door.
Clark had been pacing his living room for the better part of an hour, his long strides eating up the space until the apartment felt like a cage. His arms were locked tight across his chestâa physical restraint to keep himself from grabbing his keys and heading toward Elleâs under the guise of "just passing by."
Every few minutes, his eyes would dart to his phone on the coffee table.
Silence.
He resumed his pacing, the floorboards creaking under the weight of a man who didn't know how to turn his brain off. He dragged a hand through his hair, his fingers catching in the dark strands as he let out a jagged breath. âItâs just an interview,â he muttered, the words sounding hollow even to him. âSheâs a professional. Sheâs fine. Sheâs always fine.â
He checked the clock. Then the phone. Then the clock again.Â
Clark stared at the phone with frustrated eyes. He couldn't stay here. Couldnât continue to stew in his own thoughts, thick with the scent of his own restless energy.Â
He shoved the phone into his pocket, snatched his keys off the counter and headed for the door. He told himself he just needed air, but his feet were already deciding on a direction.
The interview had been a successâbetter than expected, even if it ran late. Between the exclusive and a steak that cost more than her rent, sheâd managed to ignore Marcusâs flirtatious streaks. But she certainly put on her best charming smile and polite laughter and it helped pull some key information from Marcus.
She rounded the corner toward her building, purse dangling from two fingers, the cool night air brushing her face.Â
Although the night had been productive, it was utterly exhausting. All she wanted was a nice hot shower and a bed.
What she didnât expect was the tall, broad figure pacing slowly in front of her apartment door, hands shoved in his jean pockets, shoes kicking leaves across the sidewalk like a restless kid whoâd been left waiting after school.
She stopped, the sight of him sending a sudden, confusing tug through her chest.
âClark?â
He spun aroundâfar too quickly to look casual.
âHey,â he said, trying to be nonchalant and failing spectacularly.
She arched her brow. âWhat are you doing here, Kent?â
She walked right past him, key already in hand. He followed immediately, looming behind her like a shadow.
âI didnât hear anything from you,â he said, voice tight, âand it was getting late.â
She pushed the door open. âClark, itâs nine.â
He stepped inside after her. âYeah, and youâre normally in bed by nine with a remote in hand, watching reruns.â
She scoffedâeven though he was absolutely right. âThatâs notâokay, yes, but the interview went over time.â
Clarkâs eyes narrowed, and he made a soundâhalf scoff, half groan.
âRight,â he muttered. âDid he charm you with stories? Talk about his ambition and humble beginnings? Wowâno oneâs ever done that before.â
She dropped her heels and spun around. âClark, thatâs literally the point of an interviewâto get information out of him.â
âAnd did you?â
âYes.â
âAnd?â
âAnd what?â she tossed back.
Clark folded his arms, one brow lifting like he was calling out a bluff at the poker table.
âYouâve got that⊠you know⊠look in your eyes.â he insisted, his pacing energy still vibrating in his shoulders.Â
She rolled her eyes, kicking her heels off. âOh my god, Clark.â
âSo, whatâd he say?â He stepped closer, crowding her space. âWhat did he tell you that was worth three hours of your time?â
âA lead!â she revealed. âI got him talking, Clark. All that 'next level tech' heâs building in the factory by the farms? Itâs a lab. Theyâre harvesting a massive deposit of green meteor rock from the soil.â
Clark went still. Goosebumps surfaced among his skin. âMeteor rock?â
âHeâs engineering a seed from it. It grows crops even in a drought, without a drop of water. But my source says that the people eating it are getting sick, Clark. His team is burying the medical reports and paying off the local clinics just to keep the profit margins climbing. Heâs poisoning people and calling it a miracle.â
She looked at him, triumphant and breathless. Clark nodded slowly, the reporter in him processing the horror of itâbut the man in him was still stuck on the candlelit table where sheâd learned it.
âAnd he just⊠gave that to you?â Clarkâs voice dropped an octave, turning raw.
âClark, Iâm not stupid. I obviously had to flash my winning smile and flutter my eyelashes to get something out of him.â
âSo how do you plan on proving any of this?â
âI just have to continue to charm him and maybe I'll convince him to give me a tour."Â
âAnd how are you going to do that? Go on another date?â He said in a biting tone.Â
âIf thatâs what itâll take.â She shrugged, not even seeing how the idea bothered Clark.Â
Clarkâs eyes narrowed just slightly. He opened his mouth to say somethingâsomething frustrated and hovering dangerously close to honestâwhen her phone buzzed on the counter.
A message preview glowed up at both of them:
Did you get home alright? Had a good time tonight. Let me know you made it safely.
Clarkâs jaw tightened so hard. He looked away like the phone had physically offended him.
She didnât notice.
She was already tapping out a reply.
âSorry, give me a moment,â she murmured, thumbs moving quickly. âHe just wanted to check if I got home okay.â
Clark muttered something under his breath that suspiciously sounded like, âOf course he did.â
She didnât hear that either.
He just stared at herâdeeply conflicted, deeply worried.
He was concerned about Marcus.Â
And the idea of her smiling at Marcus in the way she sometimes smiled at him made something deep in his chest twist painfully.
And he didnât know what to do with that.
She hit send, placed the phone down, and turned back to him.Â
âOk, Clark. I am continuing the investigation, no matter what it takes.â
He exhaled through his nose, arms still crossed, expression carved in stone.
âI need to gather enough evidence to expose him, heâs putting this entire community in danger. And itâs my job to uncover it.â
âI know it is, but thereâs something really wrong about him. I have a gut feeling about this whole thing.â
She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs. The way his eyes gazed so intensely into hers, it caught her off-guard.
âHe's harmless, unless you have a sweet smile and breasts. I can handle him." She joked to ease some of the tension.
âThatâsâI donât know why he bothers me. But he just does.â Clark finishedâbarely above a whisper. He ran a hand through his hair. âI donât trust him.â
âWell, Iâm not asking you to,â she muttered. âJust trust me.â
Something in Clarkâs expression flickeredâwounded, confused, and fond all at once.
"Now help me out of this, I'm dying for a steamy hot shower.â
She turned away, fingers brushing the top of her zipper.
âCan youâ?â she asked, gesturing behind her, so ready to get into something comfortable.
Clark's eyes followed where she was pointing. Her zipper to her dress.
âUhââ Clark malfunctioned for a moment.Â
She glanced over her shoulder, unbothered. âI canât reach the zipper.â
He swallowed hard. âRight. Sure. Of course.â
He stepped closer, every muscle suddenly rigid.
Her perfume was soft, warm, still lingering with a hint of the wine from dinner. Her hair brushed to the side, exposing a part of her skin that he doesn't often see. The dress dipped low enough that he didnât dare let his eyes fall even an inch.
He lifted his hand. And gently pinched the zipper and pulled it down.
Just a few inches.
A safe distanceâa maddening distance.
His knuckles grazed the faintest edge of her upper backâwarm skin, soft, bareâand he exhaled sharply, throat working as he cleared it.
âIs⊠is that enough?â he asked, voice too quiet.
âYes,â she said, completely casual. âThanks.â
She didnât see his red ears.
Didnât see how he stepped back like heâd touched something burning.
Didnât see how he kept his eyes anywhere but her shoulders.
To her, he was just Clarkâhelpful, overprotective, cautious Clark.
But Clark Kent stood there, heart pounding so loud he swore she could hear it, realizing something he wasnât ready for.
He cared for her.
A lot. More than heâd ever admit.
âItâs been a long night. Iâm probably not gonna work on the article till tomorrow morning.âÂ
He followed her toward the door, steps slow, almost dragging. She didnât rush him. Clark reached the doorway and just⊠hovered there. One big hand braced on the doorframe, shoulders tight.
âOkay⊠uh.â He cleared his throat, like he was trying to say more but the words wouldnât come out.
That hesitation. That reluctant sag in his shoulders.
She couldnât help the smile tugging at her lips.
âClark.â
He blinked, immediately on alert. âYeah?â
âNext time I go sneaking aroundâŠâ She crossed her arms, leaning her shoulder into the wall in a way that made him swallow. ââŠyou should probably tag along.â
His brows shot up. Hopeful. Curious. Slightly terrified. âYeah? Really?â
âReally,â she said with a smirk. âBut your name is not going on the byline.â
Clark exhaled a laughâwarm, boyish, relieved. âDeal.â
His gaze finally dropped to hers. Something unspoken flickered thereâtoo quick, too soft, too startling for him to admit. He rubbed the back of his neck with that shy frustration he thought he hid well.
âOkay,â he murmured. âThen⊠I guess Iâll see you in the morning. Goodnight,â he said again, quieter, and finally forced himself to turn and walk outside.
She closed the door behind him, not hearing the way he stood on the other side for several long secondsâbreathing out, steadying himself, trying to make sense of the slow, unfamiliar tug in his chest.
Summary: At a lavish gathering of New Yorkâs most powerful crime families, James âBuckyâ Barnes is set to inherit the family empire. The night was meant to mark his fatherâs retirement and his rise to powerâbut it holds another surprise. In a calculated move to merge two dynasties and secure dominance, the fathers of both family plotted an alliance. A marriage between 2 families. This arrangement will alter the course of your lifeâand bind your fate to a man you barely know.
Warnings: This story will have violence, graphic injuries, swearing, smut. I'll flag the chapters that have smut.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16
Notes: I'm so sorry I took so long to add a new chapter. It's been crazy lately and just totally stuck in a writers block. Apologies for any mistakes, also I'm realizing how much I don't like writing in second person. I can't do it so hopefully it's not too jarring to switch over.
Chapter 11
Late morning sunlight filtered through the canopy of old trees, casting shifting patterns of colors across the quiet park. The path wound lazily past a pond where ducks drifted, the air carrying the distant sounds of traffic muffled by greenery.Â
A few early joggers kept to themselves, and the crisp breeze carried the smell of fall and fresh coffee. On a bench overlooking the water, Mr. Browne waitedâhis loyal greyhound sprawled at his feet, tail thumping languidly against the grass. This was his sanctuary, a place where deals could be masked as casual strolls.
He turned, surprise flickering across his features before he schooled it into a pleasant smile.
âYouâve done your homework,â he murmured, taking the coffee. He eyed it suspiciously, though his tone was warm. âShould I be worried about whatâs in here?â
She smirked. âOnly if youâre cutting back on sugar. Otherwise, youâre perfectly safe.â
Then, softer, âIâm flattered you would think Iâd be that bold.â
He chuckled, the sound low and knowing. âYouâre not someone I would underestimate.â He gestured for a walk, his dog lumbering to its feet with a yawn. âAfter all, your reputation precedes youâŠâ
âMm.â Her gaze flicked subtly over her shoulder, catching the movement of the men quietly and subtly trailing at a distance.
âI see youâve upped your security detail,â she said lightly. âFive today. A bit excessive for a stroll in the park, isnât it?â
âYou never know,â Browne replied, smoothing a hand over the dogâs head. âSomeone might try to crash the party.â
She hummed thoughtfully. âWouldnât want that. I heard the party on Pier 17 was⊠a bust.â
Something twitched along his jawâsmall, but impossible to miss. His expression didnât falter, but displeasure rippled under the surface.
âItâs done,â he said firmly. âI handled it. You have my word.â
âIs it?â She stopped at the railing overlooking the pond, resting her hand on the cool metal. âBecause it looks like you might have a black sheep in the family.â
Browne stiffened. âExplain.â
âWe saw Rio leading a couple of your boys around dawn,â she said gently, as if discussing the weather. âHe made a mess. And left it for others to clean up.â
He turned fully toward her now, face darkening. âYouâre certain it was him?â
âPositive.â She took a slow sip of her coffee. âI could have a chat with him, if you pass me his number.â
A humorless huff escaped him. âI don't have his contact infoâŠâ
She arched her brow. âOh? Then feel free to handle it yourself. Because I can promise youâthe other families wonât appreciate the extra attention heâs attracting.â
Her smile returned, polite but edged with steel. âIf you happen to find his number, though⊠my family would be grateful.â
Browne met her gaze, seeing the truth behind her softness.
This wasnât a request.
This was a warning delivered with a velvet touch.
They continued on together as though they were nothing more than two acquaintances enjoying a quiet morning strollâvoices light, steps unhurriedâwhile the greyhound padded along at their feet.Â
After a few more minutes, she slowed her pace and glanced at her watch.
âI have another appointment I canât miss,â she said smoothly.
Browne nodded, understanding passing between them without the need for elaboration. They exchanged polite goodbyes, and then she turned away, following the path that led toward the parking lot.
The park remained deceptively sereneâtoo serene. Leaves rustled softly overhead.
The black Escalade waited in the shade of an old oak, windows tinted to secrecy. The moment she reached for the handle, the locks clicked openâtimed, precise, protective.
She slipped inside, the cool air and faint scent of leather washing over her.
Bucky was in the driverâs seat.
One arm draped over the wheel, sleeves pushed up just enough. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but she felt his attention like heat on her skin the second she shut the door.
He pulled out of the lot without a word.
Only when they merged onto the main road did he speak.
âWell?â he asked, voice low, steadyâtoo calm for someone whoâd clearly been waiting on the outcome. His jaw flexed once, a tell that he wasnât as relaxed as he pretended. âHowâd it go?â
She watched the city blur past the window for a moment before answering.
Then she turned to him, pulling her sunglasses off and letting them hang loosely from her fingers.
âBrowne didn't know Rio made that mess,â she said softly. âAnd heâs scrambling.â
Bucky exhaled sharply through his noseâhalf laugh, half frustration.
âBut heâs taking care of it?â
âIâm sure he will,â she murmured. âHe knows what will happen if he doesnât.â
Buckyâs lips curved, not quite a smileâmore like satisfaction wrapped in danger.
âGood,â he said.
His hand shifted gears smoothly, knuckles brushing her knee for the briefest second.
His voice dropped a shade lower.
âYou did good.â
Her pulse kicked, surprising her.
âYeah?â she asked, trying to sound unaffected.
âYeah,â he said, glancing at her from behind the sunglasses. âBut tell me everything.â
She exhaled, letting her shoulders drop as she turned toward him. âBrowneâs nervous. Heâs posturing, but he knows somethingâs off. One of his own went rogueâleft a mess he canât fully erase.â
Bucky nodded once, absorbing it. âYou think Rio is working for someone else?â
âBrowne didn't say. It doesn't look like he's fully briefed. Rio could just be ambitious.â She paused, watching his reflection in the rearview mirror. âIf Browne doesnât get a handle on it, we will. Might be able to strike a deal after the clean up."
The Escalade rolled onto the main road, traffic and sun glinting off windshields. She continued, listing out the different scenarios Rio could mess up their operation at the docks.
Thatâs when Buckyâs jaw tightened.
His grip on the wheel shiftedâsubtle, but deliberate. The relaxed sprawl of him disappeared, replaced by something coiled and alert.
âHang on,â he said calmly.
She followed his gaze to the rearview mirror.
A black sedan had slipped in behind them. Too close. No attempt to pass. Matching their speed.
âIs thatââ she started.
âYeah,â Bucky cut in softly. His eyes flicked to the side mirror, then back again. âThatâs a tail.â
The air in the car changed. The warmth drained out, replaced by a sharp, focused stillness. Bucky straightened in his seat, every line of him going taut, controlled. Lethal in that quiet way that never needed volume.
He adjusted their speedâfive under the limit. The sedan stayed glued to them.
âSeatbelt,â he said.
âIâm wearing it,â she replied, pulse ticking up despite herself.
âGood, hold on.â His thumb brushed a button on the dash, locking the doors. âYou okay?â
She nodded. âI am. I trust you.â
That earned her a quick glanceâbrief, intense, something protective flaring behind his eyes before he looked back to the road.
âGood,â he murmured. âIâve got you.â
He took a sudden turn without signaling. The sedan followed.
Buckyâs mouth curved into something cold. âAlright,â he said under his breath. âLetâs see how committed they are.â
He guided the Escalade into a denser stretch of streetsânarrower lanes, tighter cornersâhis driving precise, controlled. Not reckless. Calculated. Every move was a test.
The sedan hesitated at a yellow light. Missed the turn.
Bucky didnât slow until they were three blocks out.
Only then did the tension ease from his shoulders. He exhaled, long and quiet.
She let out a breath she hadnât realized sheâd been holding. âThat wasnât part of the plan.â
âNo,â he agreed. His gaze flicked back to her, softer now, though the edge hadnât fully left him. âBut neither is anyone thinking they can touch you.â
The Escalade hummed steadily beneath them as he guided it back toward familiar streetsâsafe ones.
She reached over, resting her hand lightly on his arm.
âThank you,â she said quietly.
His fingers tightened around the wheel for a moment before relaxing. âAlways.â
Bucky didnât say much on the drive back.
The city blurred past the windows, traffic thickening as they crossed into familiar territory. The Escalade moved like it belonged everywhere it wentâunassuming, armored in more ways than one. Buckyâs focus never wavered, eyes scanning reflections, mirrors, patterns. Only when the gates slid shut behind them did the tension finally loosen its grip.
The engine cut. Before she could unbuckle, he was already movingâout of the car, phone in hand, voice low and clipped as he issued commands.
âCall everyone. I want eyes on this now.â He commanded, walking over to the other side of the car to her side.
Within minutes, the house shifted as they walked in.
They walked in with screens lighting up. The men Bucky trusted filtered in one by one. No questions. They knew the look in his eyes.
She hovered near the kitchen island at first, watching the transformation. One wall of the living room was already alive with feedsâtraffic cams, time stamps, scrolling code. Coffee appeared in her hand without her asking. Someone dimmed the lights.
Bucky stood at the center of it all, jacket off, sleeves rolled. Calm. Commanding.
âStart with the park perimeter,â he said. âAny black sedans within a five-block radius. Cross-reference with traffic cameras heading east.â
Screens split. Angles multiplied.
A man at the far console nodded. âGot three candidates.â
âFilter by tail behavior,â Bucky replied. âSpeed matching. No overt passing. Lane discipline.â
Another voice chimed in. âThat narrows it to one.â
The image froze on-screenâa black sedan idling at a light behind the Escalade. Grainy, but unmistakable.
Her stomach tightened. âThatâs it.â
Bucky leaned forward, eyes narrowing. âPull the plate.â
âAlready spoofed,â someone said. âBut the make checks out. Fleet vehicle.â
âRun the VIN pattern,â Bucky ordered. âSee who likes that model.â
Keys clacked. Lines of data streamed by.
She moved closer to him without thinking, drawn by the gravity of his focus. He didnât look away, but his hand found hersâbrief, groundingâbefore returning to the table.
âThere,â one of the men said. âSignal ping off a burner in the car. Low-grade encryption.â
âBreak it.â
A beat. Thenâ
âDone.â
The name appeared on-screen like a bruise.
Rio.
And beneath it, two familiar faces from Browneâs extended circle. Enforcers. Loyal to the wrong blood.
The room went quiet.
âSo he didnât clean his mess,â she murmured.
Buckyâs jaw flexed. âNo. He doubled down.â
He straightened, rolling his shoulders onceâresetting. âGet me everything. Financials. Movement. Who heâs been calling. Who he thinks heâs impressing.â
âAnd Browne?â someone asked.
Bucky glanced at her thenâreally looked at herâchecking in.
She met his gaze, steady. âBrowne was given a chance. What happens next is on Rod.â
Bucky nodded once. Decision made.
âThen we proceed,â he said evenly. âQuiet. Clean. No surprises.â
The team scattered back into motion, the house humming with controlled purpose.
She exhaled slowly, tension finally bleeding out of her. âThey werenât subtle.â
âNo,â Bucky agreed. He turned to her, voice lowering, the edge softening just for her. âBut they underestimated two things.â
âAnd those would be?â
His mouth curved faintly. âHow patient I am.â
He paused, then added, softerâ
âAnd how much I donât like anyone following you.â
She held his gaze, something warm and fierce blooming in her chest despite the danger circling them.
Summary: Theyâd been growing closer, it wasnât something they had put a label on. Days blurred together gentlyâshared meals, quiet mornings, Eddie lingering longer than he ever used to. He learned the rhythm of her moods the way one learns the weather, sensing the shift in their dynamic.Â
Warnings: Supernatural, demons.
Her laughter came easier as the days go by. Eddie's touch followed her instinctively everywhere she went. Whatever space had once existed between them had been worn down by proximity and timeâsoftening into something tender.
That afternoon had them tangled together on the couch, a thriller playing on the tv. Eddieâs arm draped around her shoulders, fingers tracing tiny shapes along the side of her neck. His other hand, thumb caressed the surface of her hand, his fingers gently holding hers.Â
Every few minutes, he leaned in to press a kiss to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Soft and indulgent. She giggled at first, shrinking away from him, then gave up trying to fend him off, warmth blooming beneath her skin until she felt light with it, giddy and loose-limbed.Â
Somehow along the way, they began to gravitate towards each other like magnets. Their bodies molding into each other like puzzle pieces that just belonged.
Her hand rested against his chest, thumb brushing his chest when she shifted, the silver ring catching from the light of the tv. Eddieâs gaze dropped. His fingers closed around her hand, thumb brushing the band absentmindedlyâuntil the contact sent something sharp and electric straight through him.
His mind lurched forward in a way that felt like he was being pushed forward but also backwards into a vision that looked fuzzy but felt familiar.
The cold metal felt heavy as if he could vividly feel it wrap around his finger. The scrape of metal against a guitar string. The press of silver warmed by skin that wasnât his now. Emotion he didn't recognize, yet it overcame him without context of why. The fuzz of the vision vanished just as fast as it came over him.
Eddie inhaled sharply, grip tightening for half a heartbeat before he forced himself still. The sensation faded, leaving behind a hollow ache and the unsettling certainty that whatever heâd felt.
She noticed the shift in Eddie and looked up at him, finding him looking a bit dazed and confused.Â
âYou okay?â she asked softly.
His gaze flicked down to her, quick and guarded, then he smiledâcrooked, familiar. âYeah. Iâm good.â
It didnât quite reach his eyes.
Her gaze lingered for a moment, searching his eyes for a clue, but she didnât press him. She just watched as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering longer than usual, like he was reassuring himself she was still there. His thumb brushed her knuckles again, careful, then retreated.
Whatever had happened, he folded it away.
When she settled back against him, he didnât relax the way he had before. His hold stayed firm, protective, as though he was bracing for something he couldnât yet nameâand afraid of what might surface if he let go.
Night crept in slowly. Lamps were switched on, the apartment settling into its softer version of itself. They had just finished dinner. She mostly ate and he indulged her, even though he didn't eat human food.
She stood at the sink, sleeves pushed up, rinsing the last plate. Eddie lingered close behind her, not touching at firstâjust there, close enough that she could feel his presence like warmth at her back.
Then his hands came to rest at her waist.
She leaned back into him without thinking, and he followed the motion instinctively, chin dipping to her shoulder. His breath brushed her skin as he pressed a kiss there, then anotherâslow, unhurried, spoiled with affection. His arms folded around her, fitting easily, like theyâd learned the shape of her over time.
She laughed softly. âYouâre distracting me.â
âMânot sorry,â he murmured, words lazily slurred from the surrender to her warmth. His lips grazed her neck. Another kiss. Then one just below her ear. âYouâre very distractingâ
A sunlight-like warmth bloomed in her chest, spread outward until she felt light with it, giddy in that quiet way that made her toes curl. She set the plate aside, hands coming to rest over his, fingers threading together easily.
They stayed like that longer than necessary. No rush. No reason to move.
When she finally turned in his arms, it was only to face himâclose enough that their foreheads brushed. Eddieâs hand slid up to cradle her jaw, thumb sweeping gentle and affectionate along her cheek before he kissed her.
Soft. Lingering.
The kind of kiss that felt like reassurance more than anything else.
He kissed her again. And again.
Each one indulgent. Devoted.
Something in his chest ached with itâsweet and dangerous all at once. This closeness. This ease. He wasn't sure if it was because of her. Of if this was from himself. But it pressed against a part of him that had never felt this full before.
Her thumb brushed his collarbone as she shifted, the silver ring catching against his skin.
His fingers closed around her hand automatically, grounding himself in the contactâand then the metal scraped faintly beneath his touch.
The world tilted.
Not a vision this time around.
A feeling.
The weight of a guitar slung low against his hip. Callused fingers biting into strings. A room thick with smoke and sound and thrill. The ring heavy on his handâthat handâknocking once against polished wood as laughter rang out around him.
It vanished as quickly as it came.
Eddie sucked in a breath, heart slamming hard against his ribs. His grip tightened for just a fraction of a second before he forced himself to loosen it, to smile, to tuck the moment away where she couldnât see the fracture it left behind.
She searched his face, brow faintly furrowed. âEddieâŠ?â
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lipsâgentle, disarming. âIâm fine,â he said easily, like it was the simplest truth in the world.
She didnât look convinced.
But she let him pull her back into his arms anyway.
And Eddie held on like letting go might unravel him completely.
Eddie swallowed the echo of that strange sensation and buried it where it couldnât reach him. Whatever it was, he didnât want it now. Not when she was warm in his arms, real and breathing and here.
âYou drive me bonkers, you know that?â he murmured into the curve of her neck.
His voice came out rougher than he meant it to.
Her breath hitched softly, and that sound alone sent something feral blooming in his chest. His arms tightened around her, drawing her flush against him as if he needed the contact to anchor himself.
His lips traced slow, indulgent paths along her neckâone kiss, then another, then anotherâsavoring the quiet little sounds she made when she tilted her head, giving him more room, more access.
He followed eagerly, unhurried and greedy all at once.
The warmth of her skin under his mouth was intoxicating. Not the sharp hunger heâd known before, but something deeperâfiery and soft, wrapping around him until it made his head spin. He breathed her in, the scent of her clinging to him, and it felt like losing himself in something sacred.
His hands splayed across her back, firm and hungry, pressing her closer until there was no space left to question anything. He kissed her again and again, like he was trying to memorize the feel of her.
It felt dangerous. It felt reckless.
It felt alive.
The way she made him feel possessed in the sweetest way, like warmth filling a void he had gotten used to.
She melted into him, surrendering to the way his affection wrapped around her. This was newâthis version of Eddie. Unguarded. Devoted. Touching her like she was something precious, as if he couldn't get enough.
Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest.
She knew that he was a creature of shadow and hunger. But thisâthis tenderness, the way he held her like he was afraid of losing herâcracked something open inside her.
But the more time she spent with him, the more he opened up, she realized there was more to him than the darkness he was made of. There was something achingly human beneath it.
She felt herself falling, not in a rush, but in a steady, breathless descent.
The way he touched her made it impossible to pretend this was just a distraction. It was a connection. It was him latching onto her heart with every kiss, every murmur, until she wasnât sure where she ended and he began.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, holding him there.
When she lifted her face to his, her voice was soft but certain, threaded with excitement and want. âEddieâŠâ
He stilled just enough to look at her, eyes dark and searching, like he was bracing for rejection he deserved.
But she didnât give it to him.
Instead, she leaned in, pressing her lips to his with quiet intentionâan invitation. Her heart pounded as she kissed him, not rushed, not hesitant. Just a honest answer to the fluttering spark of emotion she felt inside.
Whatever he wasâdemon or notâshe couldn't deny the way she felt around him anymore.
And Eddie held her like his whole existence, depended on being with her. And it became painfully clear to him, whatever came next, there was no going back.
Between the Headlines - smallville!clark kent x reader {1.2}
smallville!clark kent x (she/her) reader
1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3
Summary: She's on the tails of a hot story involving the newest millionaire, Marcus Hughes. After being caught, she is invited to dinner for an exclusive. But Clark doesn't like that idea.
The next day the newsroom hummed around them, but Clarkâs focus kept driftingâagain and againâto the woman sitting two desks away.
She was hunched over her notes, chewing on her pen, brows furrowed in that âdonât talk to me, Iâm focusedâ way. She got like that whenever a big story took over her whole brain.
Her leg bounced. Her pen scribbled. She muttered questions out loud under her breath.
And every time she did, Clark felt that strange, uneasy thrum in his chest.
He tried to work.
Tried to focus.
Tried to pretend his stomach wasnât twisting every time she smiled to herself in thought.
Marcus Hughes.
He couldnât shake the feeling. Something about the man, the timing, the charm. Too smooth. Too⊠interested.
And then there was her.
Reckless. Headstrong.
Would jump off a building if there was a story at the bottom, especially if it would prove she was right.
And it terrified him. Because he admired it almost as much as it scared him.
Clark exhaled sharply, tossed his pen down, and stood. Heâd been glancing over at her for the last twenty minutes. Enough was enough.
He walked over to her desk, arms crossed, voice carefully neutral.
ââŠHowâs the prep coming along?â
She didnât look up.
âItâs going.â
âThatâs vague.â
âItâs the only one youâre getting if you continue to hover like that.â
Clark blinked. âIâm not hovering.â
She snorted. âYouâre literally standing over me right now.â
He stepped back an inch. ââŠFair.â
She finally looked upâeyes sharp, focused, and more than a little irritated.Â
âYou donât think I could do this...â
Clark hesitated. âI didnât say thatââ
âYou didnât have to. Itâs all over your face. And your tone.â She flicked her pen at him. âThis is not my first interview, Clark. And itâs not my first slippery corporate shark.â
Clark ignored the jab, lowering his voice just a little.
âSo whatâs your plan?â
She huffed. âSee why heâs investing in the farms and how he supposedly revolutionizing farming for the community. Iâll dig into how he's planning to do that when farmers have been struggling to produce in this drought. Press him when he tries to distract me.â
Clark nodded slowly. âSo you're prepared?â
âYeah, more than prepared. Iâm heading out early.â
He blinked. âWhy?â
âTo get ready.â
The confusion on Clarkâs face was almost comical.
ââŠGet ready for what?â
âThe interview, Clark.â
He followed her as she strode toward the elevators, his long legs keeping pace easily. âBut you just said you were prepared.â
She jabbed the elevator button. âPrepared mentally, yes.â
âSoâŠ?â
The doors slid open with a soft chime. She stepped inside, the small space suddenly feeling much tighter as he followed her without thinking, his presence crowding her periphery.
âI have to change.â
âChange⊠why?â
She turned to him, weary. âBecause weâre having dinner at Elleâs. And thereâs a dress code.â
Clark stared, then scoffed.
âElleâs? Thatâsââ he lowered his voice, âthatâs a date restaurant.â
âItâs not a date,â she snapped.
âYouâre dressing up,â he countered, his eyes scanning her face.
âFor the restaurant. Not for him.âÂ
âThe restaurant that people use to go on dates,â he shot back, his jaw tightening.
She glared at him. She hated how easily he could slide under her skin, especially when he was being this stubborn. He didnât flinch. He just stood there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking at her with a strange, turbulent intensity. He looked... protective. He looked frustrated. But mostly, he just looked like he wasn't going to move until she gave him an answer that made sense or one that accepted.
âSo let me get this straight,â Clark continued, voice edging toward annoyed, âa man invites you to dinner, at a date restaurant, tells you he finds you impressive, and youâre dressing upââ
âClarkââ
ââand this is an interview?â
âYes!â she snapped, the word echoing in the small space.
The elevator descended, the air between them thick and static. He folded his arms, his broad frame suddenly making the elevator feel much smaller than it was. She huffed, a flare of heat rising in her cheeksâflickering from sharp irritation into a softer, more confused warmth.
âIâm a big girl, Clark,â she said, her voice steadier now but no less firm. âI know how to keep my head on straight, regardless of the lighting or the wine list or who happens to be sitting across from me.â
Clarkâs jaw clenched, a small muscle jumping in his cheek. He looked away, his gaze fixed intensely on the shifting floor numbers.
âThatâs not what Iâm worried about,â he said, his voice barely a murmur.
She blinked, the air leaving her lungs. âThen whatââ
The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open to the bustle of the lobby. The spell was broken. She stepped out, her heels clicking a sharp, hurried rhythm toward the exit.
Clark didn't follow. He stayed rooted inside the metal box, one hand catching the door to keep it from closing, his knuckles white against the steel. He was wrestling with a sudden, heavy acheâa tangle of words he wasn't ready to speak and feelings he hadn't yet named.
âJust⊠text me when you get home,â he called out. The command was there, but it was wrapped in a new, raw softness.
She hesitated, her stride breaking for just a fraction of a second. She didn't turn around, but she gave a single, sharp nod. âFine.â
She pushed through the glass doors and disappeared into the city crowd, never seeing the way he watched her go. It wasn't the look of a worried coworker checking on a friend. It was the look of a man watching something precious drift just out of reach, realizing too late that the distance between them wasn't just a lobbyâit was everything he hadn't said.
Between the Headlines - smallville!clark kent x reader {1.1}
smallville!clark kent x (she/her) reader
1.1 | 1.2 | 1.3
Summary: She's on the tails of a hot story involving the newest millionaire, Marcus Hughes. But she's headstrong and reckless, and it leaves Clark stir-crazy.
Clark stepped into the bullpen with his coffee in hand, steam curling lazily into the low morning hum of the Daily Planet. The room smelled like ink and crappy coffee. His eyes found her immediately.
He knew that look.Â
She looked far too pleased, like sheâd cracked open something dangerous and couldnât wait to pry it wider. Papers were spread everywhere, notes scrawled in her furious shorthand, strings of thought barely held together by paperclips.
She flashed him a grin before he could say a word, leaning back in her chair as if physically restraining herself.
âOh no,â Clark muttered as he slid into the chair beside her.
She crossed her arms across her chest, offended. âWhat do you mean oh no?â
âYouâve got that look,â he said, gesturing vaguely between her bright, gleaming eyes. âThe one that says youâre about to commit at least three misdemeanors.â
She gasped sharply, hand flying to her chest in mock outrage. âI would never,â she said, lifting her chin with theatrical dignity.
Clark shot her a long, deeply unimpressed look over the rim of his coffee.
She sighed dramatically, the act melting away. âFine. But Clarkââ she leaned forward, chair spinning just a fraction beneath her, âI think Iâve got something. This new guy? Marcus Hughes? Metropolis hedge-fund star turned sudden Smallville super-fan?â Her eyes sparkled. âHeâs up to something. I can feel it.â
âFeelings arenât evidence,â Clark said gently, already bracing himself.
âTheyâre the beginning of what could become evidence.â
He pinched the bridge of his nose. âYouâre going to do something reckless, arenât you?â
âReckless? Me?â She tried for offense, but the mischievous smile tugging at her lips betrayed her completely.
âAnd if I remind you not to do anything illegalââ
She smiled sweetly. Dangerously. âClark, my dear, I would neverââ
âYou broke into LuthorCorp that one time.â
âThat was different,â she shot back.
âHow?â
âI didnât get caught.â She smirked.
âThatâs notââ Clark started, but she was already standing, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
âWish me luck,â she said breezily, patting his chest as she passed him.
He caught her wrist before she could turn fully awayâgentle, grounding. His voice softened, the protective edge slipping through.
âJust⊠please be careful. Don't do anything silly. You tend to always run straight into danger without stopping and thinking first.â
She opened her mouth to joke, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Warm, worried, a little helpless.
âIâll be fine,â she said quietly. âPromise.â
Clark didnât look convincedâbut he let her goâleaving him staring after her, with a familiar knot of worry tightening in his chest.
The building stood just a few blocks from LuthorCorp Tower, close enough to feel intentional.
Where LuthorCorp rose like a monumentâornate, looming, and unapologetically domineeringâthis place was sleeker. Quieter. All glass and steel, reflective. Clearly trying to set themselves apart from the Luthors.
After hours, the building felt hollow, only left were a few people pulling an all-nighter. The lobby echoed with the faint hum of security systems under dimmed lights that never quite turned off. She blended in with her office suit, just as if it was a worker returning for a late night.Â
She slipped inside using a badge sheâd âborrowedâ from one of Hughesâs junior analysts. Borrowed was generous, heâd left it sitting out in the open, practically taunting her.Â
The elevator ride up was slow enough to make her skin prickle. Each floor chimed softly, counting down the seconds as adrenaline crept higher.Â
Top floor. Corner suite.
Millionaire rule number one⊠make sure everyone knows you the top dogâeven when youâre not in the room.
The hallway was silent, carpet muffling her steps as she approached Marcus Hughesâs office. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city beyond. Thankfully at this late hour, security was light.
She knelt and worked the lock with practiced ease. A quiet click answered her and she quickly slipped in.
Inside, the office was immaculate with shelves of books and expensive furniture.
Every surface was spotless, the monitor and laptop precisely where it was meant to be. It felt stagedâlike no one actually worked here. No clutter. No coffee stains. No personal photos.Â
That, more than anything, frustrated her.
She searched fast and thoroughâdrawers, cabinets, filesâfinding nothing that screamed corruption. Nothing overtly illegal. Nothing even slightly morally corrupt.
âSeriously?â she muttered under her breath. âNot one shady tax form? Not a single threatening email?â
She crouched lower, running her hand along the underside of the desk, checking for seams, edgesâanywhere something could be a hidden compartment.
She was so focused she didnât hear the door open.
Didnât feel the shift in the room.
âSo,â a deep voice drawled from in front of the desk, smooth as whiskey, âare you always this thorough when breaking into a manâs officeâor am I just special?â
Her first instinct was to duck beneath the desk, heart slamming into her ribs, but it was useless.
She was caught.
She closed her eyes for half a second, exhaled, then slowly peeked up from where she was crouched.
Marcus Hughes leaned casually against the doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets like heâd stumbled upon mild entertainment rather than an active crime scene.Â
Handsome. Polished.Â
Effortlessly confident. The kind of man who moved through the world having everything handed over to him.
Her stomach dropped.
Her throat went dry.
But she straightened anyway and put on a brave smile.
âHi,â she said, the word coming out thinner than she liked. âFunny storyââ
âPlease,â he interrupted, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside, âmake it interesting. If you tell me you were âlost,â Iâll be offended.â
Her mouth opened, but she couldnât find the words. She clamped her jaw shut, recalibrating.
Marcus laughedâlow, warm, and entertained.
âYou know,â he continued, circling her slowly, studying her like she was a riddle he was enjoying taking apart. âMost people in your profession send an email to request an interview. Or at least wait until business hours.â
âMost people have a messier office,â she shot back, rising fully to her feet. âNo personal items. Not even trash in the bin. A bit weird, isnât it?â She remarked, pointing at his bare desk. âNow why would this office look like itâs staged? ...unless thereâs something to hide.â
His brows liftedâclearly surprisedâand that only made his smile deepen.
âOh,â he said, amused, âI like you.â
She scoffed. âI wasnât trying to be likable.â
âAnd yet,â he replied smoothly, stopping in front of her, âyouâve charmed me.â
He was close now. Close enough that she caught the scent of expensive cologne layered with something sharper beneath itâsomething intentional. Calculated.
âTell you what,â he said, voice dropping. âSince youâre clearly determined to dig into my life, how about we do this the civilized way?â
She blinked. ââŠCivilized?â
âDinner.â His gaze dipped briefly to her lips, then returned to her eyes. âAn exclusive interview. My full attention. Any question you want. Nothing off-limits.â
Her brain stalled. Glitched.Â
âThatâsâwait.â She frowned. âYouâre not⊠mad?â
âMad?â He laughed again, shaking his head. âYou broke into my office. That takes guts. Ambition. Determination.â His eyes flicked over her, playful eyes admiring the brave front she was putting on. âTraits I happen to admire.â
He leaned in slightly, and smirked. âFrankly, Iâm flattered.â
Heat crept into her cheeks, which only irritated her further.
âSo, what do you say?â he asked softly. âDinner? You, me, and that very sharp curiosity of yours?â
Her pulse raced, every instinct screaming at onceâdanger, opportunity, adrenaline.
ââŠFine,â she said after a beat. âBut Iâm not going to go easy on you.â
His smile turned razor-bright. âGod, I hope not.â
She studied him, searching for the crack in the facade, the tell that would give him awayâbut he seemed genuinely unbothered, almost eager for the interview.
She left his office moments later after they exchanged numbers, her limbs felt like jello as she crossed the hallway. Still in disbelief.
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing her in with her thoughts.
He hadnât called security.
Heâd offered her dinner.
An interview.
An exclusive.
And her heart hadnât slowed all the way back to the office.
She pushed through the glass doors of the Daily Planet and stepped into the bullpen.
Even this late, the newsroom hummed with the persistent energy of people chasing deadlines through the nightâkeyboards clacking, printers whirring, half-empty coffee cups scattered like evidence of stubborn ambition. Not the daytime chaos, but enough life to keep the place awake.
She barely noticed any of it.
Her legs carried her through the bullpen on muscle memory alone, weaving through desks and chairs. Her mind was still in Hughesâs officeâreplaying every moment, every word, every smile he had given her.
Too smooth. Too confident. The kind of charm that lingered, refusing to be dismissed.
She didnât realize sheâd reached her desk until a warm hand closed gently around her forearm.
She joltedâspinning so fast her hair whipped across Clarkâs chest. He steadied her instinctively, brows drawn together in concern, mouth set tight like heâd been worried.
âHey,â he murmured. âWhatâs wrong? Youâre completely distracted. I called your name fifty times.â
âFifty?â she echoed faintly, still catching up to the moment.
âOkay, maybe five,â he admitted. âBut still.â His grip loosened, though his hand didnât drop away entirely. âWhatâs going on?â
âNothingâŠâ Her voice trailed off, thin and unconvincing.
Clarkâs expression flattened.
âTry again.â
She groaned, head tilting back in displeasure. ââŠFine. I might haveââ she sucked in a breath, bracing herself, ââbroke-into-Marcusâs-office-and-got-caught.â
She said it all in one rush, like tearing off a bandage and hoping it hurt less that way.
Clark closed his eyes. A long, patient exhale left himâthe kind that carried why do I even try written all over it.
âGreat,â he muttered. âCome with me.â He opened his eyes and gently but firmly took her by the elbow.Â
He guided her down the row and into an empty conference room. The lights were off, blinds drawn, the muffled noise of the bullpen fading the second the door clicked shut behind them.
He turned to face her.
Arms crossed. Jaw set.
Classic âyou are absolutely in troubleâ Clark Kent posture.
âThatâs exactly the opposite of what I told you to do,â he said quietly, but despite the calmness in his voice, there was steel under it. âLiterally today.â
She rolled her eyes. âOh, come onânothing happenedââ
âYou were caught breaking into a millionaireâs private office,â he snapped softly, careful not to raise his voice. âThat qualifies as something.â
âIâm standing here in one piece, arenât I?â she shot back with a shrug. âObviously I handled it.â
âHow did you handle it?â
Clark stared at her, her eyes immediately averted to the floor, as if it was fascinating.
âWhat did he say?â Clark pressed, voice lowering, more serious now. âBecause youâve been dazed since you walked in.â
Her shoulders sagged. She rubbed her forehead, the fight draining out of her.
âHe isnât going to press charges.âÂ
Clark breathed a sigh of relief, but there was something else she was hiding.
âIs that allâŠ?âÂ
âHe was⊠impressed? I think? Even offered to let me do an interview.â she explained, still sounding like she didnât quite believe it herself.Â
Clarkâs gaze sharpened, suspicion settling in.
âAnd?â he prompted slowly, already knowing there was more she hadnât said yet.
She shifted her weight, suddenly very interested in the carpet. âAnd⊠he suggested we do it over dinner.â
Silence.
Clarkâs head tilted.
âDinner. Like a date.â He said, slowly.Â
âItâs not a date,â she said quickly. âItâs an interview. Exclusive. Access to anything I want to ask.â
Clarkâs jaw tightened. He turned away, pacing a short line in front of the conference table. When he spoke again, his voice was carefully neutral.
âAnd you said yes.â
âOf course I said yes to the interview,â she corrected. âClark, come on. This is huge. An exclusive with a millionaire who just rolled into Smallville? You know how rare that is.â
He stopped pacing and looked at her again, eyes sharp with concernâand something else, something she didnât quite recognize yet.
âPeople like him donât offer full transparency over a candlelight dinner,â he said quietly. âThereâs gotta be a catch.â
She scoffed. âJeez Kent, you sound paranoid.â
âIâm serious.â
âSo am I.â She crossed her arms. âHe couldâve had me arrested. Instead, he gave me access. That tells me something.â
âIt tells me something too,â Clark replied. âAnd itâs not good.â
She studied him for a moment, irritation flaring. âWhy are you acting like I canât handle myself?â
âIâm notââ
âYou are,â she cut in. âYouâre acting like Iâm gonna walk into a lionâs den without a plan.â
Clark opened his mouth, then closed it again. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through the cracks of his calm.
âI just donât trust him,â he admitted. âAnd I donât like that he cornered you after you were already in a vulnerable position.â
Her expression softenedâjust a fraction. âClark. I was investigating.â
âAnd now he's coerced you into a date.â
She rolled her eyes. âItâs not a date.â
âThen why dinner?â he shot back, eyes wide with disbelief. âWhy not the office? Or the Planet?â
She sighed, rubbing her temples. âLook, I appreciate the concern. Really. But I can handle an interview, and I might as well get an overpriced plate of pasta while I'm at it.â
âJust⊠donât let him distract you,â Clark said finally, eyes gazing deep into hers with a look tangled up with something far more personal. âThatâs how guys like him operate.â
Her brow arched. âDistract me from what?â
âFrom seeing him clearly.â
She shook her head with a small, amused smile. âRelax, Kent. I see him just fine.â
His eyes brushed over her features, lingering with worry he couldnât disguise. âI donât want you walking into something you canât walk out of.â
She felt her chest tightenâbecause beneath the scolding, beneath the protective edge, there was something more. Something warm and unspoken and soft.
âIâll be fine, Clark. We're gonna be in public. Tons of people. Plus, I can handle myself.â she whispered.
He didnât look convinced.Â
And as she walked past him toward the door, already mentally planning her next move, he stayed rooted in placeâuneasy, alert, and deeply unsettled by the realization that the thought of Marcus Hughes sitting across from her at dinner bothered him far more than it should.
After the day on the yacht, and the kiss, something in her shiftedâsubtle, but unmistakable. The next time he reached to pour her wine or guided her hand as she stepped off the boat, she didnât resist or brush it off with her usual independence.Â
Instead, she let him.Â
Trusted him.Â
It was acceptance.Â
A shared understanding.Â
And Bucky noticedâhow her shoulders didnât tense around him as much, how she leaned in just a little closer when they spoke, how her laughter came easier in his presence. She was still sharp, still guarded with the worldâbut with him, the edges were starting to soften.
But the peace never lasted long in their line of work.
One of their newly brokered partnerships was showing signs of strainâleaks in shipments, irregularities in numbers, and whispers of someone within the organization playing both sides.
They were called inâtogetherâto handle it.
Now, seated at a long glass table across from a pair of sharp-suited men from the Browne family, the tension was as thick as the espresso in Buckyâs untouched cup. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against a folder of flagged documents, while Bucky sat beside herâstoic, composed, but tightly coiled.
She spoke with poise and precision, unshaken, laying out the inconsistencies in the ledgers. But Bucky watched the repâs eyes driftânot to the numbers, but to her.Â
Studying. Dismissing.
Like she was just an accessory to the man beside her.
Then the man leaned back in his chair, voice smug, tone patronizing.
âWith all due respect,â he said, âmaybe this would go faster if Mr. Barnes handled the numbers. No need to confuse things.â
That was the moment Bucky leaned forward, slow and dangerous. But before he could open his mouth, she spoke. And the ice in her voice couldâve cracked concrete.
âI assure you,â she said, her tone slicing through the room, âif I wanted to confuse things, Iâd let you handle the numbers.â
A beat of silence.
The man shifted, suddenly uncertain.
And Buckyâhe said nothing. Just glanced sideways at her, something sparking low in his chest.
Pride.
And something deeper.
Even under pressure, she didnât fold. But what struck him most was that when she passed him the next page of notes, she didnât hesitate. She let him speak next. Trusted him to back her up without stepping over her.
They were learning to move together.
Even in the fire.
And that, Bucky realized, was more powerful than any alliance theyâd ever sign on paper.
âIâm just saying, sweetheartâif something got misplaced, it wasnât our fault. Maybe your peopleââ
She stood.
Not abruptly, not in a showy wayâbut with a gracefulness that made the room still.
Even Bucky turned his head slightly to look at her, sensing the shift in temperature.
She sighed, stepping around the table with deliberate calm.
âI tried,â she said, voice low and silken. âTried to be patient. To be professional. But seeâmy family doesnât take kindly to those who have sticky fingers.â
And then, without hesitation, she reached down and snatched the manâs hand from the table.
Before anyone could react, she bent his fingers back with a brutal snap of motionâcontrolled, but merciless.
He howled, slamming his other fist against the table as the sound of tendons stretching filled the room.
âFuckâ!â
The Browneâs security surged forward, hands flying to their holsters.
Bucky was up in an instant, one hand raised, voice sharp but even.
âStand down.â
His tone left no room for argument.
The room froze.
Guns werenât drawn, but fingers remained close.
Her grip never wavered.
She leaned in closer to the writhing man, her expression stone-cold. Beautiful, but terrifying.
âYou want to skim off our deal, fine. But donât insult me by pretending youâre clean.â
She released his hand finally, letting it drop like dead weight to the table. His skin was flushed, sweat slicking his forehead as he cradled the injured fingers.
âYouâll return the stolen amount. With interest,â she said flatly. âAnd youâll do it quietly. Or Iâll make sure the next thing I break wonât be something you can tape back together.â
The man nodded frantically, eyes wide, pride forgotten.
And Buckyâhe just watched her.
With awe.
There was a wildness in her now. A ruthless streak that had no room for pleasantries. It was something heâd never seenâsomething unrefined and rawâand it stirred something deep in him.
Respect.
And something far more dangerous.
Desire.
As she moved back toward her seat, eyes still sharp but breathing even, he reached for her chair and pulled it out without a word.Â
She sat, collected as ever, brushing a wrinkle from her dress like she hadnât just bent a manâs fingers the wrong way.
Bucky leaned in slightly, low enough that only she could hear.
âI think Iâm in love,â he murmured.
Her lips twitched, just the barest hint of a smirk.
âHush, Barnes. Weâre not done.â She whispered back, giving his knee a squeeze.
God, he hoped they never would be.
After a moment of discussion and a new drafted contract to make sure Browne's rep honored the deal, the meeting was done.
Browne's men left stiff and silent, nursing bruised egos and the repâs fractured fingers, their tails tucked neatly between their legs. No one had to say whoâd wonâeveryone knew.
Back in the quiet of the secured hallway, the tension finally began to ease. Buckyâs right-hand menâstoic, loyal, armed to the teethâwalked just a pace behind, exchanging quiet glances.
It was one of them, Steve, who finally spoke up. Respectfully. Carefully.
âYou know,â he said, voice deep and even, ânext time⊠you donât have to do that yourself. Thatâs what weâre here for. You just give the word.â
She didnât turn around.
Just let out a soft, unapologetic laugh as she kept walking.
âAnd let you boys have all the fun?â she teased, tossing a glance over her shoulder, eyes gleaming.Â
The men chuckled, half in awe, half uneasy. No one knew how to respond to a woman who walked like fire and wielded power like a scalpel.
Bucky followed her, steps slow and eyes locked to her back.
Heâd seen her ruthless before. Smart. Calculated. But this? This was different. This was instinct.Â
And damn it, if it didnât make his blood run hot.
He barely heard the idle chatter behind him. Barely registered the glances.
All he could see was her.
The sway of her walk, the glint of satisfaction still flickering in her eyes. She hadnât just controlled the roomâshe commanded it. Owned it.
She was everything they said she was.
And so much more.
Standing there now, watching her wipe the floor with men twice her size and never blinkâ
Bucky Barnes wouldâve married her a hundred times over.
And heâd spend every damn day proving he was worthy of her.
He caught up to her as they reached the car, his hand brushing gently against the small of her back.
âYou didnât have to go that hard,â he said softly, voice rich with admiration.
âI know,â she replied with a mischievous grin, opening the car door. âBut I wanted to.â
He grinned, heart thudding in his chest like he was eighteen again.
And as she slid into the car, he made a quiet vow to himself.
Summary: Spike and her return to the office with the gem. A successful mission, but there's something that lingers and it's not something she is ready for Angel to know.
The office was quieter than usual when they returned, the weight of the successful heist still humming in the air. Angel sat stoically behind his desk, hands folded, posture tight. His leg bounced almost insistentlyâimpatient. He glanced at his watch. Again. Harmony lounged on the couch in a more office attire, filing her nails like they were the only thing that mattered.Â
She walked down the hallway first, still a little dizzy from the adrenaline of the mission and the even more dangerous rush of what had happened in the study room. Her dress was a little wrinkled from the little tryst from earlier. Spike followed a few paces behind her, bow tie loosened and hanging around his neck, looking far too pleased with himself.
She adjusted her dress before stepping inside, smoothing imagined wrinkles, trying desperately not to think about Spikeâs mouth on hers from earlier. Or how good it felt to be dancing in his arms.
Angelâs head snapped up the second they entered, eyes sweeping over them critically.
âWell?â Angel asked, voice clipped, gaze flicking between them.Â
âWe got it.â she said, placing the gem carefully on his desk.Â
âExcellent,â Angel said, thrilled.
Harmony, of course, chimed in first. âYou two looked really cozy at that gala.â
Angel froze. Not dramaticallyâjust a subtle, startled pause that said he was now absolutely focused. His pen hovered mid-air.
âExcuse me?â Angel asked, in the tone who knows the answer, but hopes heâs wrong.
Spike casually crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with a smug smirk pulling at his lipsâequal parts satisfaction and mischief.
She went stiff. Completely still. Eyes darting to the floor, heart thudding painfully against her ribs. Her cheeks warmed, and she hoped Angel wouldnât notice.
He did. Especially her racing heartbeat.
âHm?â she managed, barely audible.
Angel turned slowly toward Harmony, voice dangerously calm. âWhat did you just say?â
Harmony twirled her nail file. âJust saying they looked⊠close. Touchy. Very believable, if you know what I mean.â
Angelâs gaze snapped to Spike, and the full intensity of disapproval hit like a brick wall.
âSpike,â Angel said, voice low. âCare to explain?â
âWe were just playing the part well.â She chimed in, pulling Angelâs stare from Spike.
She felt Spike tense beside her. She could feel it without looking. But she couldnât lift her eyesâfear was twisting in her gut. Fear Angel would be disappointed. Fear heâd⊠meddle.
Spikeâs jaw clenched once, irritation flickering across his faceânot at Angel, but at her response.
âNothing happened,â Spike's voice gruff with irritation. âWe got the gem, didnât we?â
His eyes met hers for half a breathâa stingâand she looked away.
âMission complete. Thatâs all.â Her voice barely held together.Â
âI donât buy it,â Angel said flatly.
Spike bit his tongue, jaw tight, holding back a retort, pretending to be unbothered. He played along, letting the silence hang, a quiet, simmering tension between him and her. She was cautious, distant⊠and especially in front of Angel, it stung.
And she could feel it.
The shift in his posture.
The hurt.
Spike wasnât upset because Angel was interrogating them. Itâs what he does, Angel meddles and asks too many questions. He was upset because she denied him like it meant nothingâit made Spike feel like a mistake she didnât want exposed.
Like someone sheâd never choose him openly.
Like he wasnât good enough. Not for her.
And he knew that, but it didnât hurt any less.
Angel kept staring between them, trying to decode the tension. But Spike just stared at the floor now, arms crossed tightânot smug⊠just holding himself together.
The weight of her guilt settled into her chest, a heaviness that made it suddenly hard to breathe.
Angel sighed, leaning back in his chair with a low groan. âI swear⊠one day, the truth is going to hit me like a brick.â
âGet some rest. Youâve earned it.â Angel dismissed them both for the night, his tone clipped but firm.
Harmony practically flew toward the door, tossing a playful, âNight, lovebirds!â over her shoulder, before disappearing into the hallway with a wink that made both of them groan inwardly.
Angel locked the gem away safely, then reactivated the wards, spun the lock on the hidden safe, and gave a terse nod that dismissed them for the night.
She left first. Spike followed her out of the office, shoulders rigid, lips pressed into a thin line.
The building was mostly dark now, only a handful of late workers scattered like ghosts in the halls. Upon stepping out, the night air met them sharp and cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders curling inward against the bite of the breeze.
Spike noticed immediately. Without a word, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. âCome on then,â he muttered, voice low. âNightâs not over⊠least now we donât have an audience.â
But his jaw was clenched, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He paced a small line in front of her, as if the cold wasnât enough to cool whatever was burning under his skin.
She kept her eyes down, adjusting the hem of her dress. âIâm tired, think I should turn in for the nightâ she murmured, trying to deflect.
Spike stopped abruptly and turned toward her, eyes flashing. âAll that lying could be quite exhausting,â he snapped, the words sharp and cutting.
She winced, breath catching. âSpike, thatâs notââ
âDonât,â he snapped. The frustration in his voice was unmistakable, but there was something wounded threaded through it too.
Her shoulders dipped. âItâs complicated. Angel can get a littleââ Her voice trails off, trying to think of an excuse.
Spikeâs blue eyes blazed, and his voice dropped, raw with frustration. âI donât give a damn about what Angel bloody thinks!â He paused, taking a slow breath, then his tone softened, almost pleading. ââŠI care about what you think.â
âI didnât mean toâŠâ she whispered, that familiar stubborn armor she always wore began to crack at the edges.
âDidnât mean to what?â Spike murmured, stepping close enough that the cold didnât exist anymore.Â
His fingers grazed her jaw, his thumb nudging gently until she looked up at him. âDidnât mean to make me feel like Iâm your bloody shame? Like thereâs nothingââ He swallowed hard. âânothing between us?â
The nervousness churned inside her stomach from the look in his eyes. Her hands rose hesitantly, brushing against his chest. Not pushing. Holding. Touching him like she wasnât ready to admit she wanted to. Her voice came soft, fragile but genuine.
âYouâre not nothing to me, Spike. I just⊠didnât know how to say it. Not with him staring.â
Slowly, the tension in his jaw eased. His shoulders dropped a fraction, the hurt in his eyes melting into something warmer, deeperâsomething heâd been holding back for far too long.
He leaned in, letting his forehead touch hers, their breaths mixing in the cold night air. Like he was trying to decide if heâd actually heard her right or if the universe was playing another joke at his expense.
âI'm not ready for the team to stick their noses in,â she added, voice low. âNot when we havenât even had time for⊠us.â
Spike let out a small, humorless huffâmore hurt than amused.
âRight. Because nothing says âromanceâ like Angel looming over us like the bloody fun police.â
She tried to smile, but it wavered. âSpikeâŠâ
He breathed in, shaky. Then his voice droppedârough, earnest, stripped bare.
âLook, you want to go slow, Iâll go slow. You want privacy, youâll have it. You want the whole damn world kept out of it, Iâll build you a wall myself.â
He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes burning blue in the streetlight.
âBut Iâm done pretending thereâs nothing here.â His voice dipped, quieter, honest to the bone. âYou matter to me. More than I know what to do with. And Iâm not hiding thatâespecially not from Angel.â
Her breath hitched, and this time her smile came soft, fragile at the edges, but real.
âSpikeâŠâ
Spikeâs expression softened in a way he never let anyone see.
âSlowâs fine,â he murmured, brushing a thumb along her jaw in a touch that was far gentler than heâd admit to being capable of. âJust⊠donât shut me out again. Not like that.â
The lake shimmered under the late morning sun, vast and glassy, ringed by tall pines and private estates nestled in the hills. A soft breeze danced over the surface, gentle waves lapping against the sleek, charcoal-toned yacht that sliced quietly through the water.
It wasnât excessive, but it was undeniably luxurious. The mahogany trim, cushioned seating under a shaded canopy, a stocked mini bar, and a full catering setup packed in insulated coolers.
Buckyâs trusted security team stayed mostly near the back, keeping to themselves, armed but unintrusive. Their presence was expectedâbut barely noticed.
Because today wasnât about business.
It was about her.
She sat across from him on a cushioned bench, barefoot and relaxed, one leg folded under her as she sipped from a glass of crisp white wine. She gazed into the distance from behind her sunglasses, hair swept up from the light breeze, her dress fluttered with every blow of the breeze. It was the most at ease heâd ever seen her.
âYou sure you donât want to check your phone?â she teased, gesturing to the untouched phone on the table beside them.
Bucky shook his head, reclining against the cushions. âNot today.â
She smiled, tilting her head. âYouâre really committing to this whole ârelaxingâ thing.â
âI said I wanted to make the day ours,â he said. âI meant it.â
She hummed softly, clearly pleased. âSo⊠whatâs next?â she asked, tilting her head at him. âWe play twenty questions? You ask me my favorite color? My go-to movie?â
âBlue,â he said immediately.
She blinked. âWhat?â
âYour favorite color is blue.â
Her eyes widened, an eyebrow raisedâshe couldn't recall ever mentioning that to him. His grin deepened the moment he caught her surprise.
He lifted a shoulder, casual but smug. âYour phone case is blue.â
âThat doesnât mean anything,â she protested, but there was already a smile tugging at her lips.
âMm, sure it doesnât.â He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. âYou also stare a little longer at anything blue in the storefront window. And last week you bought a new blue clutch.â
âThatâs because I needed a new one,â she shot back.
âRight. Pure coincidence.â His tone made it very clear he didnât believe her for a second.
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying and failing to hide her flustered amusement. âOkay, fine. You get one point for observation skills.â
âJust one?â he asked, feigning outrage. âThat answer was worth at least three.â
âEarn the other two.â
âOh, Iâm planning to impress you,â he said, leaning back with that infuriatingly confident half-smile.
âOh yeah? With what?â
âA few observations. You chew the inside of your cheek when you're annoyed. You twist your ring when youâre scheming. And,â he added, eyes flicking down to her hands, âyou fidget when youâre pretending everythingâs fine.â
Her jaw dropped. âI do not fidget.â
One brow liftedâlazy, amused, absolutely calling her out. âSweetheart⊠you do,â he said softly.
âYouâve been watching me that closely?â she challenged, though her voice had gone a little breathier than sheâd intended.
He didnât even pretend to be embarrassed. âEvery chance I get.â
Something in the air tightenedâwarm, expectant. Her heart skipped, and she looked away for a moment, trying to steady herself.
âWell,â she finally said, swirling her wine, âyouâre not exactly easy to ignore either.â
Bucky leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. âYeah? Was it my dashing smile? My rugged charm?â
She triedâtruly triedânot to smile. Her lips betrayed her.
âCharm?â she echoed, laughing. âBold choice of word.â
âOw, you hurt me.â He placed a hand over his heart dramatically.
He held her gaze, blue eyes warming like sunlight against tropical water.
"You'll survive." She laughed.
The breeze shifted, brushing across her cheeks. For a moment, with only the quiet waves of the lake and the faint hum of the yacht beneath them. It felt like the world had grown smallâjust big enough for the two of them.
He stood slowly, offering a hand.
She looked at it, brows lifting. âWhat?â
âCome to the front with me. Best view.â
She slipped her hand into his and let him guide her to the bow of the boat. They leaned against the railing together, wind in their hair, sun warming their faces. Silence stretched between them againâbut it was comfortable now.
When he lifted the catering box, her brows rose in confusionâuntil he opened it and revealed a perfectly cut slice of rich chocolate cake.
âYou really liked this one during the wedding cake tasting,â he said softly.
Her lips parted, a small breath catching. âYou⊠remembered that?â
âHard to forget, you practically melted in your chair upon first bite.â
It came out simply. And it struck her, stirring something within her.Â
He offered her the fork.
She took it with a shy smile and lifted a bite to her lips, slow and thoughtful. The instant the flavor hit her tongue, a soft, delighted laugh slipped out of herâlight and unprotected.
âMmm. God, thatâs really good.â
He watched the way her eyes softened and her smile bloomed, and he couldnât stop the warmth that lifted in his chest. Moments like thisâunguarded, sweet, undeniably hersâwere rare. And the fact that he got to witness them felt like a quiet privilege.
"You continuously surprise me, Bucky."
Then, without thinking or maybe thinking too much, he reached out.
A single loose strand of her hair had blown across her cheek, and he brushed it back behind her ear with his fingertips. His touch was gentle, deliberateâwarm enough that she felt it long after his hand wouldâve fallen away.
But it didnât fall away.
His fingers lingered, barely there, as if he was memorizing the feel of her.
âI want more days like this,â he said, his voice softening into something earnestâsomething unguarded. âJust us. Not the families. Not the expectations. Not the empire. Just⊠this.â
This time, she didnât glance away or shield herself behind composure.
Her eyes lifted to his, steady and open, and whatever he found there eased something inside himâsomething old and tense that had been waiting, quietly hoping.
She reached for him, threading her fingers through his with a tenderness that felt deliberate.
âSo do I,â she whispered.
They stayed that way for a while, shoulder to shoulder at the bow of the boat, as if the world had slowed just for them. The sun drifted higher across the sky, casting gentle ribbons of gold over the water. A warm breeze tugged at her dress, brushed his sleeves.
In the hush between themâher hand warm in his, the last taste of chocolate sweet on her lips, the day stretching wide and unhurriedâsomething shifted.
Something quiet but undeniable.
Then, naturallyâbeautifullyâshe leaned into him, resting her head against his arm. He felt every subtle ounce of her trust in that simple movement. Instinctively, he drew her closer, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her into the solid warmth of his chest.
His chin found the top of her head, his breath brushing her hair. The wind softened, as if listening.
âI canât wait to marry you,â he murmured.
Her heart skippedâsharp, brightâbecause there was nothing strategic in the way he said it. No calculated edge, no family agenda, no empire-driven promise.
Just truth.
Just him.
She lifted her face then, studying him as if seeing a different man entirely.
The strong lines of his jaw.
The gentle warmth in his eyes.
She had prepared herself for a partnership of power and purpose. A man bred for command and survival.
But this?
This was tenderness.
This was hope for a softer future.
Her hand rose almost on its own, curling lightly around the collar of his shirt. And before doubt or old scars could steal the moment from herâshe kissed him.
Soft. Slow.
Barely more than a breath of contact, yet enough to stop his world.
He froze for half a heartbeatâsurprisedâbut then melted into it, answering her gentleness with his own. No rush, no grasping. Just presence. Just feeling.
The kiss was a brush of warmth.
Though short, it was enough to make his chest tighten.
Enough to leave his fingers trembling where they hovered, aching to touch but choosing restraint because she had been brave, and he would honor that.
When she pulled away, her lashes lifted, catching the glow of the sunlight.
He simply stared at her, struck silent, as if sheâd knocked the breath clean out of him in the most tender possible way.
ââŠYou said you wanted honesty,â she murmured.
His lips curved, âI did.â
And he knewâif she kept loving him in moments like this, in small but devastating gesturesâheâd fall so hard heâd never find the ground again.
For now, he savored the warmth of her hand still curled in his shirt, the lingering memory of her lips on his.
And for the first time in longer than he cared to admit, Bucky Barnes has a future he can trust will be more than what had been set for him.
Summary: It had taken her seven years to save enough for a down payment. Seven years of secondhand furniture, roommates who didnât understand boundaries, hand-washed dishes in sinks that never drained properly, and birthdays spent hunched over freelance deadlines. But now, she finally has a house.
However, strange occurrences start to happen around the house, and her nights are plagued with nightmares that somehow leave her with injuries she can't explain. There's something in the house, something ominous and dark.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11Â | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21
