lucy-literates

[lucy-literates]

250 posts!

Yikes!!! Thank you for all the love. I have many, MANY more coming 🫶🏻

[lucy-literates]

heyyy ok i LOVE ur malachi fics and i am so obsessed, idk if you’ve seen all of malachi’s new posts of him in the gym 😫😫 i desperately need a gym one-shot where the reader goes with malachi just to watch and sneak pictures and videos of him and malachi puts on a show for the reader. reader also puts on a really nice (tight) gym set to show off for him !! but yesss i love ur fics have an awesome sauce day 💗

A/N: Ahhhh thank you! I hope you like this one just as much!

For My Eyes Only: Gym Day

The gym smelled faintly of sweat and iron, but you barely noticed. Your mind—and your camera—were entirely focused on him. Malachi moved through the space like he owned it: lifting, stretching, and flexing in ways that made your heart pound. You perched on a bench, phone in hand, pretending to scroll while secretly capturing videos and photos.

You weren’t here to work out. Well, not really. You were here to watch him, and maybe… make him notice you.

“You’re quiet today,” he called over his shoulder, smirk tugging at his lips. His voice had that low, teasing edge that always made your stomach flip.

“Just… focusing,” you said, voice light. You tried to look casual, but the tight gym set you’d chosen didn’t exactly hide the way it hugged every curve.

Malachi’s eyes swept over you slowly, dark and molten. “Mm, focusing, huh? Looks more like showing off.”

You blushed and tilted your phone up a little higher, pretending to check something. “Maybe I am.”

“Good,” he murmured, setting down his weights and striding toward you. Every step was deliberate, measured, like he was performing just for you. “Because I’ve been saving all my best sets for your eyes only.”

You laughed, breathless, as he stopped in front of you. The gym noise seemed to fade. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” He leaned down, voice dropping into a low growl. “And I notice everything. Every glance. Every look. Every little sway of your hips in that… tight little outfit.” His hand grazed your thigh lightly, brushing just enough to make you shiver.

Your cheeks heated. “You’re ridiculous,” you breathed.

“Mm,” he hummed, smirking, “and you love it. Admit it.”

You tilted your head, giving him the perfect view, pretending to adjust your leggings slowly, deliberately. “Maybe I do…”

He growled softly, leaning closer until his chest pressed against yours. “Good. Because I plan on making this day… memorable.” His hands slid around your waist, thumbs brushing the waistband of your leggings, fingers pressing lightly against the side of your chest through the fabric. “Every inch of you is mine.”

You swallowed hard, letting your hands wander to his shoulders, tugging him closer. “What if everyone sees?”

He smirked, voice low, dangerous. “Then they’ll know you’re mine.” And with that, he kissed you — sharp, demanding, claiming — right there in the middle of the gym. You gasped, body pressing against his, his hands roaming possessively, thumbs brushing sensitive spots just enough to make you squirm.

Later, after a few more sets, he pulled you toward the stretching mats. “Come on,” he said, tugging you down beside him. “Let’s see how well you stretch for me.”

You laughed, falling onto the mat, glancing up at him. He laid beside you, pressing his head into the curve of your chest, arms wrapped possessively around you. “Perfect,” he murmured. “Soft. Warm. Mine.”

You traced fingers through his hair, teasing him. “You’re just using me as a pillow again, huh?”

“Mm. Maybe. But you love it,” he replied, nipping lightly at your collarbone. “And I love… everything about you.”

His hands slid under your sports bra lightly, cupping and squeezing possessively, thumbs brushing over sensitive spots. You moaned softly, pressing yourself closer, letting him take his time exploring, marking, claiming.

“You’re mine,” he whispered between kisses and nips along your chest. “All mine. Don’t forget it.”

You laughed breathlessly, tilting your head down to press a kiss to his temple. “I could never forget.”

By the time the gym emptied and you were finally leaving, Malachi was pressed against you, head buried between your breasts, arms holding you tight. Every teasing glance, every possessive touch, every hickey he’d left behind made it clear: he wasn’t just watching you, and you weren’t just watching him.

This day wasn’t about sets, reps, or calories. It was about claiming, teasing, and reminding each other that, no matter who else was around, you were his.

And he? He would spend every moment making sure you knew it.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

Could you pleaseee write a Malachi x gf reader with big chest in which he like loves to use them as a pillow when he sleeps, takes naps or just lays on top of her in seek of comfort, loves to mark them as his with hickeys while they makeout and sometimes even just slides his hand inside of her shirt to wrap his hands around them (readers is comfortable with him doing it) ??🤭 can be fluff but also a bit of smut if you don’t mind, please and thankyouuu😛

A/N: I, my dear, am the EXACT same!

Claimed and Comforted

The apartment was quiet, the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains. You were stretched out on the couch, a book in your hands, when Malachi padded in, bare feet making no sound at all. He leaned against the doorway, eyes roaming over you like a predator and a lover all at once.

“You’re just lying there… looking perfect,” he murmured, voice low, thick with want.

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “And you’re just standing there… looking dangerous.”

That was all the invitation he needed. In one swift movement, he was beside you, sliding down onto the couch until his head was resting squarely on your chest. His arms wrapped around your torso, warm and tight, pulling you slightly toward him. His cheek pressed into the curve of your breasts, breathing deep, and you could feel the unmistakable heat radiating from him.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered against your skin, lips brushing along the swell of your chest. “And warm. Perfect.”

You laughed softly, running your hands through his dark hair, the way he always loved. “You’re just using me as a pillow again, aren’t you?”

He hummed in response, a low, satisfied sound. “Mm. Maybe. But you’re perfect for it.” His fingers slid under your shirt without hesitation, wrapping around you fully. Your gasp was small, but unmistakable. “Feels good… I like this. I like you.”

“Malachi,” you breathed, tilting your head down to press your lips against his temple, “you’re going to leave marks again.”

He grinned against you, teeth grazing lightly along your skin before his lips found yours in a hard, desperate kiss. “Good. I want everyone to know you’re mine.” His hands tightened slightly, cupping and holding, thumb circling the sensitive swell of your breasts.

The next hour was a blur of soft moans, lazy kisses, and possessive touches. Sometimes he’d mark your chest with hickeys — gentle, bruising, possessive — while he murmured your name like it was a spell. Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, feeling the weight of his body on yours, the heat, the desire.

When he pulled back just slightly, forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and molten, he whispered, “You’re mine. Only mine. Got it?”

You nodded, breathless, lips brushing his. “Always yours.”

And he believed it.

Hours passed like that, some moments entirely soft, others edged with need. Malachi couldn’t resist sliding his hands under your shirt, over your chest, pressing, squeezing, memorizing every curve. You didn’t stop him — you leaned into him, into every touch, every possessive caress.

Later, after a shared dinner, he dragged you to the bedroom like he couldn’t wait another second. He was insatiable, pressing you onto the bed and straddling you, hands roaming over your chest, lips claiming every inch of exposed skin.

“God… you’re perfect,” he growled, sliding his hands fully around you, thumbs brushing over your sensitive spots, eliciting soft gasps and moans from you. “I want to mark you… make sure no one ever forgets who you belong to.”

He leaned down, nipping, sucking, leaving soft hickeys along your neck and chest, right over the curve of your breasts. You arched into him, fingers tangling in his hair, voice trembling as his hands gripped you possessively.

“Malachi… please,” you whispered, and he didn’t hesitate. Hands sliding beneath your bra, cupping you fully, kneading and pressing while he kissed you hard, claiming, marking, grounding you to him.

You gasped as his weight pressed against yours, lips trailing along your collarbone and down your chest. “So good… so mine,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your nipple, eliciting a shiver.

Even when he slowed, it was still intense. His head would find the perfect curve, nestling between your breasts like they were his personal pillows, hands resting possessively on you, sometimes marking, sometimes just holding, breathing you in. You’d run your fingers through his hair, whispering reassurances, feeling the deep, desperate need radiating from him — possessive, insatiable, yet tender and protective.

By the time the night ended, you were both flushed, tangled together, skin gleaming with sweat and love. He rested on you, cheek against your chest, hands holding and claiming, murmuring your name over and over, like a lullaby and a promise at once.

“You’re mine,” he whispered one last time before sleep claimed him.

“And I’m yours,” you breathed, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head, heart swelling.

Because in every kiss, every possessive touch, every lazy nap with his head resting on your chest, he showed you exactly what you already knew: Malachi didn’t just want you — he needed you, craved you, and would always claim you as his.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

Maybe a story where mk and reader are a couple but reader is not famous or anything so their relationship is a secret? Or maybe mk sees reader talking to someone and gets jealous? I'm not a writer so I don't really know but I would love to see you write something with him!!

A/N: Here's one for MK!! I'm combining this one and another request, pictured below. I hope anon sees this!

Only Mine

The night had quieted. The last guests had left, and the soft hum of the city outside filtered through the half-open windows. You leaned against the kitchen counter, still laughing at a story you’d just shared, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind MK’s calm exterior.

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes dark and sharp. Every laugh, every smile you directed at someone else made his chest tighten with a possessive heat he could no longer ignore. He had tried to stay cool earlier, but seeing you animated, open, unguarded… it was too much.

Without warning, he crossed the room in long, silent strides. His hand came down on your hip, gripping hard enough to make you flinch. “You were laughing with him,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous.

“I… it was nothing, MK,” you said, trying to calm him, but the way he was looking at you made your breath catch.

“Nothing?” he growled, his other hand tangling in your hair, tilting your head up to meet his glare. “You think I can just… watch? No. I can’t.”

His lips crashed onto yours, hard, demanding, and the tension that had been building all night exploded into fire. He kissed you with sharp, desperate need, hands roaming possessively over your body, claiming every inch he could reach.

You gasped when his fingers found the hem of your top, brushing against the skin beneath. He paused, just long enough to look down at you, eyes dark, teeth grazing your jaw. “You’re mine,” he whispered, almost a growl. “Only mine.”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him just as much as he needed you. His lips left a trail along your neck, biting lightly, sucking gently, each touch leaving fire in its wake.

He spun you toward the wall, pressing you against it, his body flush against yours. The heat between you was electric, tense, overwhelming. “I don’t care who’s around,” he said, voice husky. “I don’t care if anyone sees. You’re mine, and I need… I need you.”

You moaned softly, tilting your head to give him better access, your hands sliding down to grip his belt, tugging him impossibly close. He growled, pressing himself harder, his hands roaming possessively over your hips, thighs, and back.

Every brush of his lips, every sharp, demanding touch, was a reminder: you belonged to him, and he wouldn’t let anyone else even get close. The tension broke only when he finally slid his hands under your shirt, palms pressing against your bare skin, thumbs circling in slow, possessive patterns.

You shivered under his touch, knees weakening as he nipped and sucked along your neck, jawline, and collarbone. His own need was obvious, desperate — he wanted to mark you, claim you, make sure no one could ever doubt who you were with.

When he finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, you were both breathless. His dark eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but the hunger lingered. “Only mine,” he repeated, lips brushing yours one last time, slower now, more intimate, grounding the storm of desire into something that felt like home.

You smiled against his mouth, wrapping your arms around him. “Always,” you whispered.

And in that quiet, empty apartment, MK held you like no one else ever could: sharp, intense, and completely, undeniably yours.

Tag List:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

Can you do a smut based on this photo like malachis gf seeing it and like running to him ! Thanks queen

A/N: Oh my god, yes. I swear he would be such a tease with these!

One Photo, No Patience

Your phone buzzed, and you barely glanced at it before your breath hitched.

Malachi. A photo.

When you opened it, you swore you saw your soul leave your body. He was in the gym locker room, sweatpants hanging dangerously low, abs cut sharp and glistening, one hand tugging at his waistband like he wanted you to suffer. His curls were damp, his smirk cocky, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, heat flooding you instantly.

Your thumbs hovered over the screen, trying to come up with a reply—something flirty, maybe playful—but your body made the decision for you. You were on your feet, grabbing your keys, leaving everything behind as you rushed straight for him.

By the time you burst through his bedroom door, you were breathless, flushed from running, and absolutely wrecked with want. Malachi was just pulling his sweats back up when you shoved the door closed behind you.

“Baby—” he started, but you cut him off with a kiss so hard it stole both your air.

Your fingers clawed at the hem of his sweats, yanking them low again. “You think you can send me that picture,” you hissed against his lips, “and I’m just gonna sit at home like a good girl? No fucking way.”

His laugh was low, rough, full of pride. “Guess I knew what I was doing, huh?”

“You’re an asshole,” you snapped, but it came out as a whimper when his hands slid up your thighs and grabbed your ass, hauling you against him.

He pressed you back against the wall, his body pinning yours there, his abs hard under your hands. “Could’ve just texted me back, baby. But no—you come running in here, dripping for me already.”

“Shut up,” you gasped, arching into him as his mouth dragged hot down your throat. “Less talking. More proving.”

Malachi grinned against your skin before sinking his teeth in lightly, making you gasp. “Bet.”

In one fluid move, he had your shorts shoved down your legs and his hands gripping your thighs, lifting you effortlessly against the wall. You clung to him, nails raking over his shoulders as he rocked his hips up against you, the hard outline of him grinding exactly where you needed it.

“Fuck—Malachi,” you moaned, your head dropping back against the wall.

He groaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips, lining himself up before thrusting into you in one deep stroke that had your whole body shuddering.

“Jesus Christ,” you cried, clutching at him like he was the only thing holding you together.

“Shit, baby,” he rasped, burying his face in your neck as he set a brutal pace, slamming you into the wall with every thrust. “Running here like a desperate little slut for me—this what you wanted?”

“Yes—fuck—yes!” you moaned, every snap of his hips knocking the air from your lungs.

He groaned low in your ear, his abs flexing against your stomach as he drove into you harder. “All it takes is one picture and you’re dripping, huh? My needy girl.”

You could barely breathe, barely think, clinging to him as the pleasure built so sharp and fast it left you trembling.

“Malachi—I’m—”

“I know, baby, I feel it,” he growled, pressing his forehead to yours as his pace grew rougher, more frantic. “Cum for me. Right now. Make a mess all over me.”

Your vision went white as your climax ripped through you, your body convulsing around him, your cries muffled against his mouth as he swallowed every sound.

He didn’t last long after that—your tightness, your desperation, the sight of you undone in his arms sent him over the edge. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself deep, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you.

The two of you stayed there, clinging to each other against the wall, both panting, both wrecked.

Finally, he leaned back just enough to smirk at you, sweaty curls falling in his face. “So… should I send more pics like that?”

You narrowed your eyes, still trying to catch your breath. “You do, and I swear—you’ll never make it out of the gym alive.”

He laughed, kissing you lazily. “Worth the risk.”

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

hey, can I request one where while everyone’s hanging out reader does something (like it can be something very small like getting something right against someone else or whatever) and then she gets so excited and jumps into malachi’s arms? Like I love it when couples are so overdramatic. You did the simplest thing ever? YAY I LOVE YOU GOOD JOB. I just love it😍😍

A/N: Of course you can

Biggest Cheerleader

It had started off as one of those lazy afternoons where everyone piled into the living room—snacks everywhere, shoes kicked off at the door, half the group stretched across couches while the rest sat cross-legged on the floor.

Someone had pulled out a random party game with cards, and honestly, it wasn’t even that fun. Half the time, the rules were made up on the spot. Still, you were determined to win.

You had Malachi sitting behind you, his hand absentmindedly playing with your hair while you leaned against his legs, and it made you feel almost cocky, like you had extra brain power because he was there.

When your turn came around, you glanced at your clue card and instantly panicked. You weren’t sure of the answer at all, but you decided to just go for it.

“Uh… is it… blueberry pancakes?” you blurted.

The room went quiet for a second, everyone staring at you, and then one of Malachi’s friends let out a laugh. “Holy shit—yeah, that’s right.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Wait. WHAT?! I GOT IT RIGHT?!”

Before Malachi could even react, you jumped to your feet with a squeal and threw yourself at him. He barely had time to brace himself before you launched into his lap, arms flung around his neck and legs wrapping around his waist like he’d just come back from war.

“I DID IT! I’M A GENIUS!” you shouted dramatically, peppering kisses all over his cheek as if you’d just solved nuclear fusion instead of guessing breakfast food.

Malachi laughed so hard he nearly tipped backward, but his hands gripped your thighs to steady you. “You’re insane,” he said through his grin, eyes lighting up at your theatrics.

“INSANE WITH TALENT!” you corrected, smushing his cheeks between your palms. “Babe, did you see that? I’m unstoppable. Like, world-class genius level unstoppable. MIT is shaking. Einstein could NEVER.”

The entire room groaned, laughter echoing around you. One of his friends tossed a chip at you. “It was literally blueberry pancakes. Chill.”

You gasped as if they’d just insulted your entire family line. “Excuse me?! Do not minimize my achievement! This is historic. Life-changing. I deserve a parade.”

Malachi was laughing so hard tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He kissed your forehead, still bouncing you slightly in his arms like he couldn’t get enough. “She’s right. She deserves everything. Babe, you’re incredible. Blueberry pancakes? That was the hardest card in the whole deck.”

“THANK you,” you said, tossing your hair dramatically and leaning back in his arms like a queen on her throne. “Finally, someone gets it.”

His friends rolled their eyes, muttering about how “disgustingly cute” the two of you were, but you didn’t care. You were too busy basking in your fake glory, Malachi holding onto you like you were the only person in the world.

And the truth was, for him, you kind of were.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

Maybe the other drivers meeting Kimis gf for thr first time. And he is still a lil shy like they all go out to dinner they ask about their relationshop and in the end they are all like yeah you two are cute together!

Not a Secret, Just Ours

Kimi didn’t do group dinners. Too many people, too much noise, and far too many questions. But when you’d gently asked him if you could go—“just one dinner, it’ll be fun”—he sighed, kissed your forehead, and muttered, “Fine. For you.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, the whole table of drivers paused mid-conversation. Then Charles shot up from his seat, grinning like Christmas morning. “Finally! He brought her!”

You laughed nervously as Charles waved you both over. Kimi rested a steadying hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the table like a quiet shield.

“Y/N, right?” George asked politely as you sat down. “I’ve heard your name thrown around, but honestly, didn’t think you were real.”

“Real,” Kimi deadpanned, sliding his arm across the back of your chair in a possessive little gesture that made your heart flutter.

Lando leaned in, curiosity written all over him. “Okay, so, how long has this been going on?”

You glanced at Kimi, who was very pointedly focusing on his drink, and smiled. “A little over a year.”

The table collectively gasped.

“A year?!” Pierre leaned forward, grinning. “How the hell did you keep that quiet?”

“Not a secret,” Kimi said, shrugging. His thumb rubbed a slow circle into your shoulder, grounding himself. “Just ours.”

Carlos smirked, raising his glass. “Very romantic, amigo. I like it.”

The teasing rolled on as dinner was served. Every few minutes, someone circled back to you two.

“So how did you meet?” George asked with genuine curiosity.

“At a café,” you explained. “He was… quiet.”

“She did all the talking,” Kimi admitted softly, eyes on his plate.

“Still does,” Charles teased. The table burst into laughter, but Kimi only smirked faintly and stole one of your fries.

Halfway through the meal, Lando tilted his head at you, mischief sparking. “You do know what you’ve signed up for, right? He’s like… the king of one-word answers.”

Before you could reply, Kimi cut in, voice calm but firm. “Don’t need more words when she understands me.”

That shut Lando right up, though the smirk on his face betrayed his amusement.

Pierre leaned back, arms crossed. “Admit it, you’re soft now.”

“I’m not soft,” Kimi muttered instantly. His cheeks tinged pink when the whole table laughed.

You rested your head against his shoulder, whispering, “Maybe just with me.”

The chorus of groans and teasing “awws” that followed made Kimi’s ears burn red. Still, he didn’t let go of your hand once—not when you ate, not when the jokes came, not even when Carlos started listing off potential “couple names” for the two of you just to see Kimi glare.

By the time dessert arrived, everyone had settled into easy chatter, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected. When goodbyes came, Charles squeezed your hand warmly and whispered, “You’re good for him. Don’t let him scare you off.”

On the walk back to the car, Kimi laced his fingers with yours. His shoulders were relaxed, his voice low. “Didn’t hate that.”

You leaned into him, smiling. “See? Told you it’d be fun.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, almost shy. “As long as you’re there—it’s good.”

[lucy-literates]

Can you do a malachi x reader!gf where they go on holiday together and the reader gets major sunburn but malachi is cold so he lays on top of the reader because if how warm they are due to the sunburn but he doesn't realise he is hurting the reader until he wakes up and sees the reader with tear stains down their face and finds out it was his fault they were crying in pain

A/N: Hey, I hope enjoy this!

Ouch

You’d underestimated just how strong the sun was here.

Even though Malachi had teased you earlier that morning about “turning into a tomato,” you hadn’t listened. You wanted the perfect tan for your holiday photos, and after a couple of hours at the beach, your skin was glowing… but not in the way you’d hoped.

By the time you got back to the hotel room, every step made you wince. Your shoulders and back were on fire, and you couldn’t even let the bedsheets touch you without biting your lip to keep from crying out. Malachi noticed your discomfort, of course, but he chalked it up to the normal sting of a sunburn.

“Just means it’s working, babe,” he’d grinned, pressing a cold bottle of water to your arm before flopping down next to you.

The air-con blasted through the room, leaving him shivering, but you radiated heat like a furnace. So without thinking twice, he wrapped himself around you like a blanket, sighing in relief.

You froze at the first press of his weight. Your chest clenched, the pressure against your shoulders unbearable. Every second was agony, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment or wake him when he drifted off so content against you.

So you lay there in silence, blinking hard as tears streamed down your face. Your body trembled, not from the chill of the room but from the pain and the desperate need to not wake him. Eventually exhaustion took over, and you cried yourself to sleep.

—

When Malachi stirred awake a couple hours later, the first thing he noticed was the stiffness in your body. The second was the dried tear tracks on your cheeks.

“Baby?” His voice cracked, panic immediately settling in. He pushed himself up, careful now, and the second you whimpered at the movement his stomach dropped. “Oh my god… was it me? Did I—fuck—did I hurt you?”

Your silence said it all. He scrambled off the bed like it was on fire, running his hands through his hair, eyes wide and horrified.

“Shit, I thought—I just wanted to warm up, I didn’t even think. And you just… you let me? You didn’t tell me?”

You gave a small, pained laugh. “Didn’t want to wake you. You looked so happy.”

His chest ached. He crouched beside the bed, brushing your hair gently away from your damp cheeks. “No, don’t you dare put my comfort over your pain. You’re literally burning alive and I just—god, I’m so sorry.”

Before you could answer, he was already moving, digging through the mini-fridge for the coldest bottles of water, soaking a towel, and gently pressing it against your shoulders like you were made of glass. Every wince had his jaw tightening, guilt written across his face.

“I’m never letting this happen again,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Tomorrow, I’m covering you in sunscreen, head to toe. No arguments.”

Despite the sting, you managed to smile softly at him. “You’re gonna play sunscreen police?”

“Damn right,” he said, leaning down to kiss your temple carefully. “Because I can’t go through that again. Seeing you cry because of me? Never again.”

And for the rest of the night, he stayed awake beside you, fussing with cold towels, whispering apologies, and pressing feather-light kisses to the only spots of skin that didn’t hurt.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

I gave you a request yesterday I think that I didn’t mean to send it’s about Kehlanis song folded you don’t have to write it

I'm happy to right it, my request list is very long so im slowly working my way through them

[lucy-literates]

Could you write a fan fic about reader taking the place for freya on the world collide tour

I have done this one already, if you would like to check it out

[lucy-literates]

heyyy please write for Arthur again

Got any ideas? I'm focusing on my inbox right now

[lucy-literates]

ive read all of your malachi ficsand omg theyre so cute, do you think you could do one where he's on a live with mk or the others and he calls over the reader whos a stage hand person who he's been crushing on for a while or dating for a little and shes camera shy but he warms her up and makes the chat support her and he just makes her laugh (reader is a bit of an awkward person)

A/N: Awh, thank you so much! I really appreciate that! I hope you enjoy this :)

Live with Laughter

The backstage area buzzed with activity as you adjusted cables and checked sound levels, your headset slightly askew. You were a stagehand, skilled at keeping everything running smoothly, but when it came to cameras and social media, you were painfully camera-shy.

“Hey,” Malachi’s voice cut through the noise, playful and impossible to ignore. You looked up to see him waving from the livestream camera setup, MK already on mic, teasing him about something you didn’t catch.

“You’re live in three,” MK said, smirking at the camera. “And Malachi, we need your guest.”

“Guest?” Malachi’s grin was mischievous. He glanced at you, eyes sparkling. “Perfect. Y/N, come over here!”

You froze. “Me?”

“Yes! You’re coming on live. Everyone needs to see you,” he said, stepping closer, tugging lightly at your arm. “Don’t be shy. I’ll be right here.”

Your face flushed, nerves spiraling. “I… I don’t… I’m not good at this—”

He leaned in, lowering his voice just enough for you to hear, all teasing warmth. “Hey… no one’s gonna roast you. I promise. I’ve got you. You just… show up, smile a little, and we’ll have fun. I’ll make sure the chat loves you as much as I do.”

You gulped, but his hand lingered over yours, reassuring, grounding. Slowly, you let yourself follow him to the camera setup.

“Okay!” MK chimed, clearly excited. “Everyone, meet our stagehand superstar!”

You froze in front of the camera, awkwardly fumbling with your headset. The chat instantly exploded—hearts, fire emojis, everyone cheering your name. You squeaked, heat rising in your cheeks.

Malachi nudged you gently. “Breathe. Look at me. Just me for now.”

You glanced at him, and his grin softened, eyes warm. “See? You’re fine. You’ve got this. And hey… I’ll let you laugh at my jokes, okay? That way it’s easy.”

“Okay…” you whispered, still awkward but starting to relax slightly.

“Alright, chat,” Malachi said into the mic, “my friend Y/N here is going to tell us the most embarrassing stagehand moment ever. Go!”

You blinked. “I… uh…” You hesitated, but Malachi gave your hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging. “Okay, fine. One time I… tripped over a cable in front of like, the whole crew… and landed in a giant pile of props. And my face was… stuck like that for probably ten minutes while everyone laughed.”

The chat erupted, laughing emojis and hearts flooding the screen. You blinked, unsure whether to hide or laugh, but Malachi’s warm gaze caught yours.

“You see?” he said, leaning closer, whispering just for you, “They love it. They love you. And I… definitely do.”

Your lips twitched into a small, genuine smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he whispered, grinning, before turning back to the camera. “Ridiculous, yes. But also, isn’t she just hilarious?”

The chat exploded again, your username trending in the live comments. Your heart raced, but you felt lighter, warmer, like his presence had erased half the anxiety.

He leaned down and whispered, teasing, “See? You’re amazing. Now, let’s see if we can make them laugh even harder.”

For the next ten minutes, he kept you laughing—playful jokes, inside references, gentle teasing that only made you bolder. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by this electric, fun energy.

By the end of the live, you were practically doubled over in laughter, cheeks flushed, and Malachi’s grin never faded. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders as MK signed off, whispering, “Told you… you were perfect. And look at you, owning it.”

You shook your head, still laughing softly. “I… I can’t believe I did that.”

“You did it,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “And I got to watch it all. Best part? You looked incredible the entire time.”

You blushed, heart fluttering, still riding the high of being seen, celebrated, and loved—not just by him, but by everyone watching.

And for the first time, the camera didn’t scare you.

It had shown you exactly who you were—and Malachi loved every second of it.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

okay so in an interview Malachi mentioned that he is allergic to caffeine. Like he gets sick and gets spots in his vision, kind of goes blind. So, hear me out here, one of the members for the Worlds Collide tour showed Malachi a drink that they didn’t know was caffeinated, Malachi ends up drinking 2-4 of them and gets really sick, leaving reader to take care of him

A/N: Ahhh yes, I saw that one. Scary stuff. I hope this is what you were thinking of.

Caffeine Chaos

The backstage area was buzzing with energy—lights, music, fans, and crew moving in a well-oiled chaos that never seemed to stop. You were leaning against the wall, sipping your water and trying to soak in the calm before the next set, when you noticed Malachi approaching, carrying a handful of drinks with a big, curious grin.

“Hey!” he called, plopping a couple of the colorful bottles in front of you. “Someone gave me these. Have you tried them?”

You glanced at the bottles, reading the labels quickly. “Uh… wait, Malachi, are you sure you should—”

“Don’t worry! They’re just… energy drinks or something. Supposedly good for stamina. Want one?”

Your stomach sank. You remembered the interview, how he’d mentioned being allergic to caffeine—how even a little made him sick, how spots would cloud his vision, even making him temporarily blind. “Malachi… you can’t,” you warned, but it was too late.

He shrugged, grinning mischievously. “Eh, I’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Minutes later, he’d already downed one… then another… and by the fourth, his confident grin had started to falter. His steps became slower, unsteady. You caught him just as his knees buckled slightly.

“Malachi?” you said sharply, gripping his arm. His face was pale, eyes wide, pupils flickering strangely.

“I… I think… uh… my vision…” he stammered, reaching out blindly. Spots danced across his vision, black and bright, making it hard for him to focus.

“Okay, okay, slow down,” you said firmly, guiding him to a nearby couch. “Just sit. Breathe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

He slumped against you, shivering slightly. “I… I feel sick… everything’s spinning…”

“I know,” you murmured, pressing your palm to his forehead. He was burning up. “It’s the caffeine. You told me… we have to get you hydrated and calm. Just lean on me.”

For the next hour, you fussed over him like he was the most precious thing in the world. You fetched water, placed a cool cloth on his forehead, and rubbed circles into his back while he groaned softly, cheeks flushed, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“See? You’re going to be okay,” you whispered. “Just relax. I’m right here. No one else matters right now.”

He weakly tried to smile, but the nausea and dizziness were overwhelming. “I… I’m so stupid,” he muttered.

“Don’t,” you said sharply. “You didn’t know. And it’s not your fault. You’re allowed to make mistakes.” You brushed his hair from his face, tucking a strand behind his ear. “Right now, I just want you to rest. Let me take care of you.”

He let out a shaky breath, leaning further against you, the tremble in his limbs softening as your presence grounded him. “You always… save me,” he murmured.

“Always,” you said softly, brushing his hand against yours. “Even if it’s just holding your hair back while you puke.”

He laughed weakly, groaning at the motion. “Romantic…”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you teased gently.

As the night wore on, you stayed by his side, coaxing him to sip water, holding him steady when he felt dizzy, whispering encouragement when the nausea hit hardest. Eventually, the caffeine began to wear off, and the worst of it passed, leaving him pale but stable, slumped against your chest.

“You’re my hero,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded.

“You’re mine,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his temple. “And now… we’re both learning our lesson. No more mystery energy drinks.”

He groaned in agreement but didn’t argue, content to simply stay wrapped in your arms, safe and cared for, finally able to rest without the chaos of the day pressing down.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

Hi I’m back!

If it’s not too much trouble could you do one where the reader comes back from work and she is drained and upset but Malachi takes care of her and comforts her

A/N: Welcome back! Thank you for the request!

Home Is You

You trudged through the front door, shoulders slumped, bag hanging limply from your arm. The day had been relentless—emails, meetings, endless expectations—and somewhere along the way, it all just got too heavy. Your chest felt tight, your head pounding, and the second you shut the door behind you, the tears you’d been holding in threatened to spill.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called from the living room.

Malachi was sitting cross-legged on the couch, hoodie pulled up, laptop resting on his knees. The moment he saw you, his brows furrowed. “You okay?”

You tried to smile. “Yeah… just tired.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, lowering the laptop, the teasing in his tone gone. “That’s code for ‘my day sucked and I might cry if I sit down.’”

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you let the tears slip, warm and unbidden, as you sank to the floor against the couch, burying your face in your hands.

He was instantly beside you, kneeling down, hands gentle on your shoulders. “Shhh… hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You hiccupped, letting out a shaky breath. “Everything was… too much today. I feel like I can’t… I can’t do it sometimes.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your face. “Not ever. You’ve been holding it in all day, huh?”

You nodded, feeling the tight knot in your chest loosen slightly just from the comfort of his touch. “I just… I feel so drained.”

He wrapped you in his arms, pressing you against him. “Then let’s fix that. Come on, we’ll get you comfortable first.”

He guided you toward the bedroom, gently lifting your bag and setting it aside. Your hoodie was damp from the day’s sweat and stress, and he peeled it off for you, replacing it with one of his oversized shirts. “Much better,” he said softly.

You curled into him on the bed, exhausted, and he pulled the blankets over you both. He tucked you against his chest, fingers tracing lazy circles on your back, and you finally let yourself relax completely.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “You work so hard… you deserve to feel safe and cared for too.”

You sniffled, voice muffled against his shoulder. “I don’t even know why I get so upset sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” he said firmly. “It doesn’t matter why. What matters is that you let me be here for you. That’s enough.”

You nuzzled closer, finally letting yourself breathe, feel, and rest. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“No,” he corrected gently. “Thank you for letting me love you. For letting me take care of you. That’s my favorite thing to do.”

For the rest of the evening, he stayed with you—no distractions, no phones, no demands. He fetched water when you needed it, rubbed your temples, and whispered small, silly jokes to make you laugh through the tears.

By the time sleep finally found you, it was with Malachi’s arms wrapped securely around you, heartbeat steady beneath your ear. The world outside didn’t matter anymore; all that mattered was this—warmth, safety, and the quiet knowledge that you didn’t have to carry your burdens alone.

And with him, you never would.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

can you do a long distance malachi smut, where he buys reader a dildo that was molded to his cock and she has no idea that he did that. it arrived while they were on facetime and she opens it and malachi teases her for automatically being turned on. then she starts to play with herself while malachi watches on ft and joins in.(i hope this makes sense)

A/N: Oooooohh okayyyyy

A Little Surprise

You were sprawled on your bed, laptop perched on the edge, FaceTiming with him like you did every night. The screen lit up his grin, messy hair falling over his forehead, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey,” he said, voice low, teasing. “How’s my favorite girl tonight?”

“Pretty good,” you murmured, stretching, “but kinda bored.” You pouted playfully, pretending to scroll through your phone.

He raised a brow. “Bored? We can fix that.”

Before you could ask how, a knock at your door drew your attention. A small package sat on the floor—no return address, nothing. You picked it up, curious.

“What’s that?” he asked, noticing on the screen.

“I… don’t know,” you admitted. The tape cut easily, and inside was a sleek, smooth toy, far fancier than anything you’d ever bought yourself. You pulled it out, turning it over in your hands. “Uh… this is… really nice.”

His grin widened. “Nice, huh? Looks like someone’s excited already.”

You froze. “Excited?”

He leaned closer to the camera, voice low, teasing. “Yeah, the way you’re holding it, the way your cheeks just flushed. I can see it.”

Heat rushed to your face. “I—what? I’m not—”

“Shh.” He cut you off, smirking. “You’re adorable when you’re turned on. That’s all I’m saying.”

You felt a shiver run through you, the teasing just… too much. You couldn’t resist. One hand went to explore, testing the slick surface, and immediately your body responded, soft gasps escaping your lips.

“See?” he murmured, watching every move on the screen. “I knew you’d react. I know you so well.”

Your other hand drifted between your legs, and your back arched involuntarily as you whispered, “I can’t… I shouldn’t…”

“Mhm,” he murmured, eyes darkening, “but you can. You’re mine, even from a thousand miles away. I want to watch you.”

Your heart hammered, heat pooling low in your belly. The idea of him watching—knowing exactly what you were doing—was electric. You gave in, letting yourself explore further, your body moving in time with his smirk on the screen, your voice soft, shaky, leaking moans that made him grin wider.

“You like that, don’t you?” he whispered. “You like knowing I’m the reason you’re trembling.”

“Yes,” you gasped, eyes fluttering shut, “I… I want more.”

He leaned closer to the camera again, voice teasing, yet possessive. “Then show me. Make me see every inch of that gorgeous body of yours. I want to see how much you need me.”

Your fingers moved faster now, following every instruction, every hushed encouragement, every teasing comment. His voice wove through your thoughts, filling your head, and every word sent jolts of pleasure through you.

When you finally reached the edge, he leaned forward, almost as if he could feel it through the screen. “Cum for me,” he whispered. “I want to see it. I want it to be for me.”

And you did. Shaking, trembling, your cries muffled into your pillow as he grinned triumphantly on the other side of the screen.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, voice softer now, almost tender. “I can’t wait until I can do this in person.”

You leaned back, sweaty and flushed, breathing heavily, but the grin on your face mirrored his. Distance didn’t matter right now. For the first time in a long time, you felt utterly… his.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

Hiii I was wondering if you could do a part of just a fan?

-thatlovelygirlmaya

,lots of love!

❤🐾🎀💋🌹🌺🍒🍓🎱

A/N: Of course, lovely! Enjoy!

The click of camera shutters echoed faintly even as you and Malachi slipped into the quieter hallway, away from the chaos of the awards after-party. Your heart was still hammering, adrenaline mingling with a new, dizzying sense of freedom. No more pretending. No more hiding.

He turned to face you, his hands tucked casually in his pockets, but his eyes—dark, intent, impossibly warm—never left yours. “You okay?” he asked again, softer this time, almost as if he were checking if the world had left you unscathed.

You swallowed, letting the tension unwind from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you whispered, though your voice wavered slightly. “I’m… better than okay.”

He smiled, that crooked, infuriating grin of his, and stepped closer until the space between you was charged, like the moment itself had electricity in the air. “Better than okay, huh?” His tone teased, but his gaze was serious. “You know, we’ve got… options now. We don’t have to hide anymore. Do you want to?”

You hesitated, heart lurching at the thought. “Do you… I mean, are you ready for everyone to know?”

He shrugged, though the movement was almost playful. “I’ve been ready. You’re worth it.” His thumb brushed along your jawline, gentle, grounding. “I don’t care about the cameras. About the rumors. About anything but you.”

A shiver ran down your spine, not from cold but from the intensity of his words, from the raw honesty that had been simmering under the surface for months. And suddenly, it all felt… possible. Real.

“You’re ridiculous,” you breathed, letting a small laugh escape.

“I know,” he replied, leaning in until his forehead rested lightly against yours. “And you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “Maybe a little.”

He chuckled, a low, soft sound that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. “Then let’s make the most of it. No more pretending.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of soft music and laughter. You found an empty green room off the main hall, scattered with bean bags and blankets that had clearly been left by the crew. Malachi plopped onto one, stretching out with his legs crossed casually. “So… movies?” he asked, holding up a remote like it was a peace offering.

You nodded, settling beside him, legs curled under the oversized hoodie you’d slipped on. “I think we earned a movie night,” you said.

“Definitely earned.” He tossed you the popcorn bucket, grinning as you caught it with a practiced flick of your wrist. “Your choice.”

Rom-com it was. You settled into a corner of the beanbag, letting him drape an arm over your shoulders. The lights were low, the hum of the air conditioning soft, and for once, there were no cameras, no flashbulbs, no flashing notifications reminding you of the outside world.

He laughed at all the right parts, groaned at the bad lines, and leaned closer when you whispered commentary under your breath. You let yourself lean into him too, head resting lightly on his shoulder. The world outside could wait.

“You really don’t care if anyone sees us now?” he asked quietly, eyes tracking the screen but somehow still on you.

You tilted your head to look at him, grin soft and genuine. “Not anymore. I want them to know. I want you to know I’m… all yours.”

He swallowed, eyes catching the faint light of the TV. “You’re mine?” His tone was a mix of disbelief and awe, like he still couldn’t quite process that you’d finally let this be real.

You nodded. “All mine. No more pretending.”

He laughed softly, tugging you closer. “I’m not sure how I survived all those months waiting for this moment.”

“You survived fine,” you teased. “You’re still alive.”

“Barely,” he muttered, though the grin on his lips betrayed him.

The movie played on, but neither of you really watched. Instead, you talked about everything and nothing—concerts, songs you loved, ridiculous backstage stories, dreams you had when no one was listening. Time stretched and bent around you, the pressure of fame and expectation melting away, leaving just… this.

Eventually, you drifted against him, eyelids heavy. He draped a blanket over the two of you without a word, warm and protective. His hand rested on yours, fingers interlaced.

“You know,” he murmured, voice muffled against your hair, “this… this right here? Beats any award, any stage, any crowd.”

You smiled against his chest. “Yeah.”

Silence settled, not awkward but peaceful, the kind that comes with trust and safety.

And as the movie credits rolled and the world outside continued its glittering, chaotic dance, you realized something.

For the first time in forever, you didn’t have to hide.

You had him.

He had you.

And nothing—not fame, not rules, not expectations—could touch that.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[lucy-literates]

Could you write a fan fic where you take the place of freya on the collide tour and you have to sing with Malachi and everyone else and then after the concert you guys have a nice night and watch movies

A/N: Absolutely, enjoy!

After the Applause

The stage lights were blinding—warm beams of gold cutting through the haze, bouncing off the shimmering black outfit you’d chosen for the night. The roar of the crowd swelled, a living, breathing thing, and your heart pounded right along with it.

“Ready?” Malachi leaned in from your left, voice barely audible over the chant of thousands.

“As I’ll ever be,” you said, trying to hide the tremor in your voice.

It still didn’t feel real—how you’d stepped into Freya’s spot for the rest of the Collide tour, how you’d been thrown into rehearsals with Malachi, Will, and the rest of the crew, and how tonight was your first full show.

And now, here you were.

The music kicked in, the bass vibrating through your chest. Malachi shot you that boyish grin—the one that was equal parts mischief and reassurance—and you felt something in your nerves unravel.

Your first note came, and you hit it clean. The tension in your shoulders loosened as you moved in sync with him, voices blending like they’d been designed to. You could feel the crowd’s energy shift, leaning into the chemistry you and Malachi carried on stage.

Halfway through the song, he moved closer, stepping into your space with a playful smirk. You mirrored it, matching his energy, the two of you circling each other like you’d been doing this for years. His eyes never left yours through the harmonies, and it was electric.

When the final chorus hit, the crowd was on its feet—screaming, clapping, phones in the air. You and Malachi finished back-to-back, both breathing hard, adrenaline buzzing under your skin.

He glanced at you as the lights dimmed. “Told you you’d kill it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks was impossible to hide.

After the final set and the chaotic rush of backstage congratulations, the hotel room felt like a completely different planet. Quiet. Safe.

You’d changed into sweats and an oversized hoodie, hair damp from a quick shower. Malachi was sprawled across the bed in joggers and a T-shirt, flipping through movie options on the TV.

“Action or rom-com?” he asked, tossing you a bag of popcorn.

“Rom-com,” you said without hesitation. “I think my ears are still ringing from all that bass.”

He laughed, hitting play. The glow from the screen painted the room in soft light, the distant hum of the city outside fading into the background.

Halfway through the movie, you shifted to lean against him, and he didn’t hesitate—just draped an arm around you and pulled you closer. You could still smell the faint mix of his cologne and stage sweat, a strangely comforting combination.

“You were amazing tonight,” he murmured, almost like he was telling you a secret. “Better than amazing, actually.”

Your chest warmed. “I had a good partner.”

“Damn right you did.” He smirked, then softened. “Seriously though… I’m glad it’s you out here with us.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Me too.”

By the time the credits rolled, you’d both stopped watching entirely—just sitting in the quiet, the weight of the day melting away. Tomorrow there’d be another city, another crowd, another show. But tonight was yours.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Tag List:

@laylayschipzz

@purplerose291

@imnotnotgabrielle

@imnotjadaddy

@23swife

@mysticmarble222

@saphiraelise

@coffeeonvenus 

@casey1-2007

@h3artfili4

@mischivana

@strawberryshortcake143

@stellas1

@lov3lylxvender

@rylftv

@lovinashlin

@jmgrule

@hppercyjacksonlover

@avahossler

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing