Mai

drop a request, hear the dial tone I don't write for Malachi anymore

[kaliuchisangel]

Masterlist

Hi and welcome to my page my angels♡ I'm Mai!

About Me

I'm a music and movie lover

My favorite color is purple

My favorite artist is kali uchis

my request is always open !

I'm also a black writer.

Fandoms I write for

Keith powers

Mekonnen Knife

Mason thames

Miguel mora

Tyriq withers

Wednesday

Drew Starkey

Austin butler

Malachi Barton

Malachi Barton ²

Mekonnen Knife

Colby Madden

Mason Thames

Wednesday

Keith Powers

Tyriq Withers

Drew Starkey

Callum Turner

Austin Butler

[kaliuchisangel]

Can you pls write mk x black reader where the cast and dancers are looking at some edits and reader and cj gets edited to friends don’t look at friends that way and mk gets jealous

Friends Don’t Look at Friends That Way

MK x Black Reader

Wc: 490

Warnings: A little bit of angst and Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

The studio was buzzing with excitement as the cast and dancers gathered around the large screen to watch the latest edits of the music video.

You and CJ were sitting side by side, laughing at a few of the funny clips that had been added.

“And here’s the big reveal!” the director announced, hitting play.

The music started, and instantly, your eyes went wide. There you were—laughing, leaning into CJ a little too close, the editing making it look like something more than friendly. The song "friends don't look at friends that way" is was playing in the edit.

The room erupted in giggles and knowing looks, people whispering about how perfect the edit made you two look together. CJ nudged you, laughing. “Wow, we make a great team, huh?”

You laughed too, brushing it off. “Yeah, super convincing, huh?”

From the back of the room, MK leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes were fixed on the screen, and every laugh between you and CJ made his chest tighten.

“Why are they all touchy like that?” he muttered under his breath, unaware anyone could hear.

One of the dancers noticed his expression. “MK, you okay? You look pissed.”

Mekonnen forced a grin. “Yeah, yeah.. I’m good.”

But the truth was, he wasn’t. Seeing you edited to look close with CJ made him feel something he hadn’t quite felt before: jealousy. A tight knot formed in his stomach, and his eyes never left the screen.

You, oblivious to his reaction, leaned toward CJ again, whispering a joke. MM’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Walking over, he leaned casually against the edge of the table near you, voice low but teasing. “You two look really convincing.”

CJ blinked at him, smirking. “Oh? And you’re… jealous?”

You looked between the two of them, realizing instantly the tension in MK’s posture. “MK…” you began, soft but firm.

He gave a small, almost sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe a little. Just… you look really cute in this edit. With him.”

Your heart skipped. “Cute… in the edit?”

“Yeah,” he said, finally letting himself step closer, voice dropping. “But not as cute as when it’s just… you and me.”

Your chest warmed, and you reached up to squeeze his hand. CJ raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the moment, while the rest of the cast laughed quietly, sensing the playful tension.

Mekonnen leaned closer, his lips brushing your temple. “Next time… I want the edits to show us.”

You giggled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Deal. But maybe leave CJ out of your wrath?”

He smirked, holding you closer. “No promises.”

The video continued to play on the screen, but it took him a minute to remember he didn’t want anyone else touching that spark but him.

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@wbbloversblog

[kaliuchisangel]

Two Boys, Two Loves ²

Malachi Barton & Mason Thames x Reader

Wc: 2k+

Warnings: Fluff and Angst

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Yall asked and I delivered. Enjoy!

You sat at the small round table in the corner, staring down at your untouched latte. The foam heart had dissolved into a swirl of tan, just like your own heart messy and unraveling.

Mason sat across from you, stirring his coffee though he hadn’t taken a sip.

Beside you, Malachi leaned back in his chair like he was trying to appear casual, one arm draped over the backrest, his iced coffee sweating onto the wooden table. But his bouncing leg gave him away.

The silence was unbearable.

Finally, Malachi broke first, leaning forward, elbows on the table. His voice was low, rough with frustration. “This is ridiculous. You can’t keep stringing us along like this, Y/N. You need to choose.”

Mason’s spoon clinked gently as he set it down, his tone softer but no less pointed. “He’s right. This isn’t fair to any of us. Especially you.”

Your chest tightened, your pulse quick in your throat. The café sounds faded into nothing, every sense pulled toward the two boys staring at you. Two loves, so different it made you ache.

Mason, steady and safe. Malachi, fire and chaos. Both of them yours—and not yours.

Your hand trembled against the cup as you whispered, “I… I choose—”

Your gaze found Mason’s, and in that second, you knew.

The fire Malachi sparked was real, but it burned too hot, too wild. What you needed—the one who had always steadied you, always made you feel like home—was sitting quietly across from you.

“Mason.” The word broke out of you, fragile but sure. “I choose you.”

The café noise carried on, oblivious, but at your table the air shattered. Malachi went still beside you, then let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

“Figures,” he muttered, standing so fast his chair scraped against the tile. Heads turned, but he didn’t care. He raked a hand through his curls, his jaw tight. “Good guy Mason wins again.”

Your throat stung as you reached toward him. “Malachi, I—”

“Don’t.” His voice cracked. He glanced at you, eyes glistening despite the anger in his tone. “Don’t apologize. Just… love him the way you couldn’t love me.”

And then he was gone, the bell above the café door chiming as it slammed shut behind him.

The silence that followed pressed against your ribs.

Mason hadn’t moved. He was staring at you, lips parted, like he couldn’t believe it. “You mean that?” His voice was quiet, trembling in a way you’d never heard.

You nodded, tears spilling freely. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Slowly, carefully, he reached across the table, his hand covering yours. Warm. Steady. The anchor you’d been craving all along.

When he leaned forward, the kiss wasn’t desperate. It was soft, sweet, his lips lingering against yours like he was memorizing the shape of your promise.

And for the first time in months, you felt whole.

Ending 2: Malachi

Your heart lurched as your eyes snapped to Malachi’s. It had always been him.

Even when Mason offered you safety, even when you tried to imagine a calmer love—Malachi’s fire burned brighter. You couldn’t walk away from it.

“Malachi,” you whispered. “I choose you.”

The words dropped like a match into gasoline.

His whole body stilled, his breath caught. “You—what?” His voice cracked.

“I can’t let you go,” you said, tears catching in your throat. “It’s you, Mal.”

Across the table, Mason froze. His coffee sat forgotten, his hands curling slowly into fists. His eyes were glassy but his voice stayed low, controlled. “Guess that’s it then.”

“Mason, I—”

“Don’t.” His lips curved into a broken almost-smile. “You don’t have to explain. I get it. You wanted him, not me.”

He stood, gathering his jacket, and you felt your heart split even as Malachi’s hand slid into yours.

When Mason left, the bell above the door chimed once. The silence he left behind was unbearable.

But then Malachi was pulling you up, cupping your face with both hands, his forehead resting against yours as if he couldn’t breathe without you.

“You chose me,” he whispered, wonder laced with disbelief. “You actually chose me.”

And then his lips were on yours. The kiss was urgent, hungry, messy in the way only Malachi could be. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your cheek, your hair—like he couldn’t stand an inch of space between you.

Ending 3: BOAF (iykyk)

Your throat closed around their names, and the truth spilled out raw.

“I can’t choose.”

Both of them froze.

Mason’s brows knit, confusion flashing across his face. Malachi scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s not an option.”

“It has to be,” you whispered, tears brimming. “Because I love you both. And I can’t imagine my life without the both of you.”

Mason sat back slowly, his jaw tight, his eyes with disbelief. Malachi’s knee bounced faster, his lips curling like he was about to lash out—but then he saw the tears streaking down your cheeks.

“You’re serious?” Mason asked finally, voice trembling.

“I am.” Your hands shook as you reached across the small table, touching Mason’s first, then Malachi’s. “I don’t know how this would work. But I don’t want to lose either of you. Not when you both mean too much.”

Malachi swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Mason let out a shaky laugh, like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

But neither pulled their hand away.

It wasn’t a perfect solution. It wasn’t easy.

But for the first time, you weren’t breaking apart.

And maybe—just maybe—it could work.

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@wbbloversblog

[kaliuchisangel]

Taste Me

Isaac Night x black vampire reader

Wc: 3k

Warnings: Smut

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Hey, yall. How yall doing? Ik I've gone for a little bit. But now, im back and ready to write. Enjoy! And Happy Halloween!

You're on his lap in his dorm, listening to music and making out. Around The Way Girl is playing in the background.

"I need an around way girl (around the way girl) That's one for me (she's the only one for me) (to the bridge) I need an around the way girl (you got me shook up, shook down, shook out on your loving)

You pulled away after the song ended. You laid back on his bed. “Damn,” you said, catching your breath. “I can’t catch my breath.”

“You’re the one that wanted to make out,” he shrugged, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth. “That’s not my fault.”

You shot him a look, scoffing as you adjusted yourself on the sheets. “Yeah, that’s because I don’t see you. You’re always in your lab. Duh.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of guilt under the attitude. “I’m not always in there.”

“Yes, you are,” you fired back, propping yourself up on your elbows. “I swear it's like I have to book an appointment to spend time with you.”

He sighed, leaning back on his hands, eyes flicking over you. “Well, I’m here now. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You rolled your eyes, tipping your head back. “Just shut up and kiss me."

He didn’t hesitate. His lips found yours again, slower this time. Your nails tangled in his hair, fingers threading through soft strands, while his hands moved along your back, drawing you closer until there was barely any space between you.

The music faded into the background. You felt the tension of the room wrap around you both.

Without breaking the kiss, your hands grazed over the hem of his shirt. He caught your movement and smirked, brushing a thumb along your jaw. “Already?” he teased, voice low.

You just grinned and shrugged, tugging at the edge of his shirt. “Shut up and let me.”

Piece by piece, your clothes came off, his did too.

Even as your lips met his, a strange heat started coiling in your chest, tighter and sharper than before. Your heartbeat sped up, not from the kiss alone, but from something deep.

He noticed the shift immediately, pausing just long enough to look at you with curiosity and concern. “Hey, you don't look okay” he murmured, brushing a braid from your face. “Are you okay?”

You hesitated, swallowing hard. Your eyes flicked away for a second, embarrassed, unsure how to admit it. Finally, you whispered, almost to yourself, “I’m hungry.”

He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving yours, calm but steady. “Are you really hungry?” he asked softly.

You nodded, hesitant, unsure how to admit it. “Yeah , I am,” you whispered.

A small, confident smile flickered across his face. “Taste me,” he said simply, offering himself with complete trust.

The hunger snapped. Before either of you could think, your fangs sank into his wrist hard and starving.

He gasped—not in fear, but in pleasure—his body tensing beneath you as your mouth sealed over his skin.

Your thighs trembled. His free hand gripped your waist, not to stop you, but to keep you there, holding you closer as you fed like you needed to live.

A low, breathless groan slipped from his throat. “F–fuck… that’s it…” he whispered, voice unsteady, eyes half-lidded as he watched you take from him, watched your hunger break loose.

Blood smeared across your lips, down your chin, warm against your skin. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. You drank greedily, each pull sending a shiver through you while he lay back for you, chest rising and falling, letting you take everything you needed.

You were starving. And he let you feed like you were his.

You line up his dick with your pussy moving slowly and carefully, feeling every inch as you sink down onto him. His hands rest on your hips, steadying you, guiding you, but giving you control. You both breathe heavily.

You press your forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you adjust to the sensation. His grip tightens slightly on your hips, encouraging you to move, to take what you need.

And you do.

Rocking your hips with a slow, steady rhythm, feeling him stretch and fill you with each movement. Your bodies move together, the heat building as you lose yourselves in the sensation. His grip tightens on your hips, guiding you as you go, both of you breathing hard.

Suddenly, his eyes drift to your face, and he notices the blood smeared across your lips and chin. He pauses, gazing at you with a mix of admiration and desire. His voice is low and rough as he whispers, “You look good with blood on you. So fucking beautiful.”

He reaches out, gently brushing a finger across your cheek, tracing the streaks of red. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You look up at him, a small, breathless smile playing on your lips. "Thank you, baby,” you whispers softly.

Without hesitation, you leans in and presses her lips to his in a kiss. Your hands find his face, holding him gently as your mouths move together.

As you kiss, you murmured between breaths, “You taste so sweet,” and he responds with a moan.

Suddenly, both of you feel the waves of pleasure cresting—your body tensing, muscles tightening as you reach your peak. You gasp, “Isaac, I’m gonna cum,” your voice trembling with release.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes dark with desire. “Me too,” he whispers, voice strained.

And then, you both shudder together, riding the waves of your climax, your bodies trembling in unison, breathless and spent.

Afterward, he gently cradles you, his arms wrapped p around you. He reaches for a towel, then quietly gets up and fills a bathtub with warm water, adding soap and lighting candles around the bathroom.

He carefully carries you to the bathroom and helps you into the tub. You sink into the warm water, sighing in relief. He gently gathers your braid, twisting it into a soft bun, then starts washing you with a damp rag.

Once you’re clean, he dries you off with a plush towel and carefully tends to your skincare routine, applying gentle lotion to your skin. He helps you put on a cozy nightgown, then gently places your braids into a bonnet.

Finally, he carries you back to your bed, pulling the covers up around you. You nestle into the sheets, feeling safe and loved, as he wraps his arms around you, and you both drift off to sleep, in each other's arms.

Just before falling asleep, you softly whisper, “I love you, Isaac.”

He tightens his hold on you and replies softly, “I love you, too.”

TAGLIST:

@stormster111

@groundzerospitfire

@prettygalleria

@halleysbossanova

[kaliuchisangel]

Can you write where the reader (shes Malachi girlfriend) is like kinda alt/grunge and only really wears baggy jeans and some baggy band shirt, and one day the zombie cast goes to a restaurant ,sitting it a booth, and one of the girls is uncomfortable in a tank top they are wearing are her and reader are sitting in the corner together and reader sees she’s uncomfortable and like whispers to her if she wants to switch shirts, the girl says yes so they excuse themselves for a minute to switch shirts in the bathroom, when they come back the rest realise (it’s obvious and the reader doesn’t wear tank tops) and they both brush them off. After they ate at the restaurant they go to someone house or like a park and go live, people on live see reader in a tank top and is like hyping her up and saying she looks good/should dress like that more. You can add little cute Malachi moments throughout it, hope that all makes sense, thank you

𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐨

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Wc: 640

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

Dinner with the Zombies cast was always loud, messy, and way too much fun. The whole crew had squeezed into a booth, plates of fries and milkshakes scattered across the table.

You were tucked into the corner beside Malachi, wearing your usual: ripped baggy jeans, heavy belt chains, and an oversized Metallica shirt.

It was comfortable. It was you. And everyone knew it , you didn’t do tank tops, skirts, or anything remotely fitted.

But halfway through dinner, you noticed one of the girls shifting in her seat, tugging at the hem of her tank top like she wanted to disappear.

She laughed along with the group, but you caught the way her shoulders curled inward, how she avoided making eye contact whenever someone looked her way.

You leaned closer, your voice barely audible over the chatter. “Hey. Do you wanna switch shirts?”

She blinked at you, stunned. “Wait—what? No, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to ask.” You tugged on the hem of your tee. “Seriously. If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’ve got you.”

Her face softened, relief washing over her expression. “…Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Come on."

The two of you slipped out. A few minutes later, you walked back—her in your oversized Metallica shirt, and you in her fitted tank top.

The table went quiet.

“Hold on,” Milo said, pointing between the two of you. “Something’s… different.”

Trevor’s jaw dropped. “Y/N. Is wearing. A tank top.”

The entire table reacted at once—gasps, laughs, mock applause. Everyone knew you. Baggy shirts, layers, band tees. Never tanks.

Malachi was the only one who didn’t laugh. He just leaned back, a slow grin spreading across his face as his eyes swept over you. “You look good, babe. Like… really good.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you ducked your head. “Shut up,” you mumbled, but the corner of your lips twitched.

Later that night, everyone ended up piled on blankets in the park, phones out, going live. You were sitting cross-legged beside Malachi, trying not to think about how exposed your shoulders felt.

The comments came fast:

“WAIT Y/N IN A TANK TOP??” “She never dresses like this omg??” “WHY DOES SHE LOOK SO GOOD”

You groaned and buried your face in Malachi’s shoulder. “Nope. I’m never living this down.”

He laughed, scrolling through the flood of comments. “They’re not wrong though,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your hair. “You’re stunning no matter what you wear. But this? I think this is officially my new favorite look.”

You peeked up at him, rolling your eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

He smirked, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “Too late.”

The chat exploded with heart emojis, but in that moment, all you cared about was the way Malachi looked at you—like he’d never seen anyone more perfect, whether you were in ripped jeans or a borrowed tank top.

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@footballxbooks4life

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@hot-holland95

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@secretsteelzealot

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@therearenowhere

@wbbloversblog

@worldscollidedzfan

[kaliuchisangel]

malachi x famous pro volleyball reader, when malachi was away on tour she had a game where she was going hardcore because she felt pressured to be the best and to win and she also was going through alot + missing malachi, she took a really big dive and broke her arm, and when malachi was looking at her videos on the internet showing her off on his live after the show and when he saw that she hurt herself he forgot ab the live and quickly went to call her since he couldnt be with her atm and made sure she was okay and evb irl and cmts cracked on him for being so worrisome while she was otp reassuring him and he insisted on sleeping otp to make sure she didnt die in her sleep or something

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Wc: 2.3k

Warnings: Fluff and Angst

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

Everyone expected perfect. Every game, every serve, every point.

But tonight, something in you cracked.

The crowd was roaring, the pressure sitting heavily on your chest. You’d been pushing yourself harder than usual—running drills even after practice, ignoring the ache in your shoulder. And maybe it was because Malachi wasn’t there.

He was halfway across the country on the Worlds Collide tour, performing in front of thousands while you were here, diving after volleyballs and pretending you weren’t stressed.

You missed him.

Badly.

The game had started great—your team was winning by two sets—but as soon as the ball spiked your way, you dove too fast, too hard.

The sound of your body hitting the court was drowned out by the collective gasp of the audience.

You didn’t even realize what happened until the pain in your arm screamed through your body like ice cracking.

Meanwhile, On Tour

Malachi was back in his dressing room, sweat still down to his forehead; he was grinning, scrolling through his phone as he went live to talk to fans.

“Yo, that crowd tonight was crazy,” he said, still buzzing from the show. “Y’all were loud. Like, my ears are literally ringing right now.”

The comments were flying in:

“BEST SHOW EVER 😭”

“malachi where’s y/n???”

“show us the fit again pls 😭😭😭😭”

He laughed. “Y/N’s got her own thing tonight! She’s got a game—uh, quarterfinals, I think?”

He flipped the camera and pulled up a clip of you warming up that he’d found on Twitter earlier. “Look at her, bro. She’s so good. Like, I’m over here struggling with choreography, and she’s out here looking like she’s about to win the Olympics.”

He beamed proudly, reading more comments. “Yeah, she’s crazy talented. She’s been working her butt off for this match, man.”

He clicked another clip that had just popped up—a replay. You were mid-dive, moving faster than anyone else on court—

—and then he saw it.

You hit the floor hard. The sound of the impact echoed through the stadium. You clutched your arm, your expression twisting in pain.

The video froze, your teammates rushing over, the commentators’ voices tense.

Malachi’s smile vanished instantly.

“Wait… what—” He leaned closer to his phone. “What happened?”

The live chat exploded.

“she got hurt 😭😭😭”

“it looks bad malachi”

“omg she broke her arm”

His heart dropped. “What?”

His voice cracked, panic across his face. He froze for half a second, and then without saying another word—he ended the live.

Ten Minutes Later

You were in your hotel room, arm wrapped in a temporary brace, trying to stay calm. Your coach had made you promise to rest until the doctor saw you tomorrow.

You were scrolling through TikTok because of course your injury was already trending, when your phone buzzed with a FaceTime call.

Malachi 💕

You answered, your tired face lighting up just a little. “Hey, baby.”

His face appeared on screen, worried as hell. “What the hell happened, Y/N?”

You sighed softly. “I’m fine—”

“Fine? You broke your arm!”

You blinked. “Okay, maybe not fine fine…”

He ran a hand through his curls, pacing around his hotel room. “I saw the clip during my live. I didn’t even finish it, I just—God, I thought you hit your head or something—”

“Malie” you murmured (the nickname you always used for him when you wanted him to calm down), “it’s just a small fracture. I’ll be okay. I’ve already seen the medic, they said I’ll heal up quick.”

He sighed, trying to steady his breathing. “You shouldn’t have been diving that hard. You’ve been running yourself ragged for weeks.”

“I know,” you said softly. “I just… I wanted to win. I didn’t wanna disappoint anyone. And I missed you.”

That last part broke him a little.

He stopped pacing and sank onto the bed, his voice gentler now. “You could never disappoint anyone, Y/N. Especially not me.”

You smiled faintly. “You’re sweet.”

“I’m serious. You push yourself way too hard, babe. You don’t need to prove anything.”

Silence stretched between you for a moment, both of you just breathing. Then his voice softened even more.

“I wish I was there,” he said. “I hate that I’m not there to take care of you.”

You shifted, cradling your injured arm. “You’re here now, though. That’s enough for me.”

He sighed, running his hand over his face. “Still doesn’t feel like enough.”

Later That Night

You were tucked in bed, arm in a sling, your phone resting on the pillow beside you. Malachi was still on FaceTime, lying in his hotel bed, the glow of his phone lighting up his sleepy eyes.

“Malachi,” you murmured, fighting a yawn. “You don’t have to stay up.”

“Yes, I do.”

You smiled softly. “No, you don’t. I’m okay, promise.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “What if you roll over and hurt your arm again? Or, like, stop breathing or something?”

You laughed, even though it made your ribs ache. “I’m not gonna die in my sleep, Malie”

“I don’t care,” he mumbled. “I’m staying on the phone.”

You sighed, your heart melting. “You’re such a worrier.”

He smiled faintly. “You love it.”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted.

There was a quiet pause. You could hear him exhale through the mic, the sound soft and steady.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “You’ve worked so hard. Even if you can’t play for a bit, that doesn’t take away from everything you’ve done. You’re still amazing.”

Your throat tightened. “Don’t make me cry right now.”

He smiled lazily, his voice starting to fade with sleep. “Good. Then we’ll be matching. I cried like an idiot earlier.”

You gasped, laughing. “You did not.”

“I did,” he admitted, eyes closing. “You scared me so bad. Never doing that again.”

“I’ll try,” you whispered, smiling at your screen. “Sleep, Malie”

“I’m already halfway there,” he murmured. “Don’t hang up.”

“I won’t.”

The last thing you heard before drifting off was his soft voice, muffled by exhaustion.

“Love you, sunshine.”

“Love you too,” you whispered back.

The Next Morning

You woke up to hundreds of notifications.

Twitter:

“Malachi Barton ended his live SO FAST after seeing Y/N’s clip 😭😭😭😭” “the way he panicked… that’s real love fr 😭💔” “someone tell him she’s okay omggg he looked like he was about to book a flight mid-live”

Instagram:

Malachi had posted on his story — a picture of your game jersey with the caption:

“You’re still my MVP ❤️”

And underneath, in small letters:

“Heal fast, My love.”

That Night

You called him again, this time smiling for real.

"Guess who’s trending for being dramatic?” you teased.

He groaned. “Don’t remind me. Kylie already sent me, like, five TikToks of me looking stressed out of my mind.”

You laughed. “They love you for it.”

He looked at you through the screen, eyes soft. “I don’t care what they say. I’m gonna worry about you anyway.”

You smiled, eyes warm. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, you know that?”

He grinned. “Yeah. I know.”

You rolled your eyes, giggling. “Cocky.”

He smirked. “Confident.”

You realized that no matter how far apart you were, he’d always find a way to make you feel safe—even if that meant staying awake on FaceTime just to make sure you didn’t stop breathing.

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@wbbloversblog

[kaliuchisangel]

Could you make Miguel jealous? I don't really see him as possessive or anything, but he would like you to keep your distance from other guys, what do you say?

Movie Night Jealousy

Miguel Mora x Reader

Wc: 535

Warnings: Fluff and jealous Miguel

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

Everyone was scattered around Miguel’s living room, blankets everywhere and bowls of popcorn balancing on pillows. You were curled up on the couch, arms crossed like always, your “resting-angry-face” in full effect.

To most people, you looked like you were bored, irritated, and two seconds from fighting someone. In reality, you were perfectly fine — just tired and existing.

Miguel knew that. Your friends… still hadn’t figured it out.

Which is why Cesar (yall know i always use Cesar) the touchy, too friendly guy of the group — plopped down right beside you with zero hesitation.

“You want some?” Cesar offered, holding out a handful of popcorn.

You just stared at him with that natural intimidating face. You didn’t mean to scare anyone, but it still made Cesar gulp and laugh awkwardly before shifting even closer.

Miguel, from the other side of the couch, visibly twitched.

His jaw clenched. His brows went up. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes flicking between you and Cesar like he was watching a bomb get armed.

And when Cesar casually rested his arm behind you on the couch?

Yeah. That was it.

Miguel stood up, walked around the coffee table, and dropped right between you and Cesar— literally wedging himself in the gap.

Cesar stared. You stared. Miguel just smiled, overly sweet.

“This seat’s taken,” he said, snatching the blanket and pulling it over himself and you. “Hope you don’t mind, bro.”

Cesar blinked, clearly confused. “Dude, I was just—”

“Mhm. Scoot.” Miguel didn’t move, didn’t budge, didn’t even look at him.

Cesar, defeated, grabbed his popcorn and relocated to the floor.

You turned your head slowly. “Really?”

Miguel shrugged, pretending innocence. “What? I wanted to sit next to my girlfriend. Is that a crime?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You were sitting next to me.”

“That,” he pointed at the empty cushion, “was too much space. He was breathing in your direction. I didn’t like it.”

You tried not to smile, but it slipped out — just barely. And of course, Miguel caught it.

“There it is,” he grinned. “I knew you could smile. Everyone else thinks you want to punch them.”

“I can arrange that,” you deadpanned.

He laughed and nudged you with his shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re scary.”

Then, softer — with that warm Miguel voice of his — he added:

“But you’re mine. So if dudes could stop auditioning for the role of ‘guy who gets knocked out by me,’ that would be great.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned into him anyway. “Jealous.”

“Obviously.” He popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Now hush. I missed my favorite part.”

He wrapped his arm around you, smug and satisfied, while Eli avoided eye contact for the rest of the night. And you? You just stayed pressed into Miguel’s side, secretly loving every second of it.

[kaliuchisangel]

Miguel discovering your hidden tattoo? I just think

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐬

Miguel Mora x Reader

Wc: 725

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

You thought Miguel had already fallen asleep.

You went digging through your drawer for a sleep shirt, peeling off the hoodie you’d been in all day. Your shoulder relaxed as the fabric slipped down your arm — exposing the flower tattoo across your skin.

You didn’t hear him at first — not until his voice floated through the room, low and sleepy.

“…wait.”

You froze and turned. Miguel was no longer under the blanket. He was sitting up, his curls messy, eyes half-open but alert — like something about you had pulled him from a dream.

He blinked once.

Then again.

Then he stood, padding over quietly, like he didn’t want to break whatever moment he had just woken up into.

“You never told me you had tattoos,” he whispered, eyes tracing the small garden inked along your shoulder and neck. There wasn’t shock in his face — just this warm kind of wonder.

You lifted a shoulder, suddenly shy. “I didn’t hide them. It just… never came up.”

Miguel stopped in front of you, close enough that you felt the hush of his breath at your collarbone. His eyes softened.

“They’re beautiful.”

He lifted his hand but paused, giving you time to pull away. When you didn’t, he let his fingertips graze the petals on your shoulder — gentle, reverent, like he thought the tattoo might crumble if he pressed too hard.

“What about these?” he murmured, eyes moving down to your arm where delicate butterflies floated over your skin. “And your hand…”

You glanced at them — little wings, captured in ink. “I just like them. They make me feel… like art, I guess.” You laughed softly. “Not everything has a deep meaning. I just love pretty things.”

Miguel smiled — not the wide goofy one he gives your friends, but the quiet, genuine one reserved only for you.

“I like that,” he said. “You, choosing beauty just because you can.”

His thumb followed the curve of one butterfly, slow and careful. You expected questions. You expected teasing. Instead, he said something you weren’t ready for:

“They fit you.”

You looked up. “Fit me how?”

“You look intimidating most of the time,” he answered honestly, his voice still soft. “Like you could ruin someone with a single glare. But these…” his fingers brushed your shoulder again, “…they show the rest. The part only I get to see.”

The softness. The warmth. The person who loves art, and flowers, and quiet nights.

Your chest tightened.

You didn’t speak. You just stepped closer and rested your forehead against his. Miguel’s hands slipped around your waist, keeping you close, like you were something precious.

“Come to bed,” he whispered. “But leave the tattoos where I can see them.”

You hid a smile in his shoulder. “They’re permanent, Miguel.”

“Good,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek. “Then I get to admire them forever.”

He took your hand, guiding you back to the bed, pulling you into his arms as the moonlight painted your tattoos.

[kaliuchisangel]

So yk the trend where a girl pets her boyfriend but gets harder as they go on until they notice or do smt can you do that for Mason Thames

(I might rerequest this for malachi if that’s okay? tell me if not)

I love your writing, thank you

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝

Mason Thames x Reader

Wc: 417

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

It started as harmless fun. Mason was stretched out on the couch, his head in your lap as you scrolled on your phone. He was half-watching TV, half-playing with the string on your hoodie, completely relaxed.

You smirked to yourself, pulling up the camera on your phone. Time to test the trend.

Your hand slid through his hair, petting him softly. Mason hummed contently, eyes fluttering shut. “Mm. Keep doing that.”

You bit back a grin, letting your hand trail down to pat his cheek gently. He cracked one eye open, smiling up at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whispered back sweetly.

Then you patted his cheek again—slightly firmer. He blinked, confused. “Um… thanks?”

You patted him again. Harder this time.

Mason sat up a little, eyebrows raised. “Okay, what was that for?”

You smirked, pretending to be innocent. “What do you mean?” pat, pat, pat.

This time you aimed for his shoulder, each smack louder than the last. Mason’s jaw dropped. “Babe!” He laughed, grabbing your wrist before you could land another one. “Are you… are you hitting me right now?”

“It’s affection,” you said with a straight face, trying not to laugh.

“That is not affection,” he teased, tackling you back against the couch cushions. You burst into giggles as he pinned your hands above your head, his curls falling into his face. “You were literally assaulting me on camera.”

You laughed harder, and he peeked at your phone screen, realizing what was going on. “Wait… oh my god, you’re doing one of those TikTok trends, aren’t you?”

You grinned mischievously. “Maybe.”

Mason shook his head, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. “Unbelievable. Here I am thinking you’re being all sweet, and you’re just—” he mimicked your rapid-fire pats against the couch cushion, “—whack, whack, whack!”

You were crying from laughter now, and Mason finally flopped down beside you, still shaking his head with a smile. “You’re ridiculous. But you know what?” He slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Even when you’re smacking me, you’re still cute.”

“Glad you noticed,” you teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

TAGLIST

[kaliuchisangel]

Can you write Malachi x Ballroom Dancer!Fem!Reader, she’s a pro on dancing with the stars and he is paired up with her as the star and someone posts a behind the scenes picture where Malachi and Reader are kissing in the background?

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

The first time you met Malachi Barton, he nearly tripped walking into the rehearsal studio.

“Hey, trust I can walk better than I can dance,” he joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smiled. You’d been a Dancing with the Stars pro for three seasons now, partnered with everyone from soap actors to Olympic gymnasts.

“Good,” you teased, crossing your arms. “Because we’ve got a lot of walking and a lot of dancing to do.”

The 1st week, he was a nervous wreck.

Every step he missed was followed by an apologetic grin and an “I swear I’ll get it next time.” You’d pretend to be stern, but he was so sweet it was impossible to stay mad.

When he finally nailed a spin, you clapped excitedly. “That was it! You did it!”

He smiled at you—really smiled—and you felt your stomach do something unprofessional.

3rd week, Chemistry Week.

The dance was a Rumba — slow, emotional, too close for comfort.

“You have to trust me,” you told him softly, guiding his hand to your waist. “Ballroom isn’t about steps. It’s about connection.”

His gaze flickered down to you, eyes serious for once. “Then I trust you.”

You weren’t sure if it was the music, the tension, or the way his thumb brushed your hip, but your heart skipped in a way no choreographed step ever could.

5th week:Late-night rehearsals.

It was almost midnight when you called for a break. The studio lights glowed warm and soft, your reflection blurred in the mirror.

“You okay?” you asked as Malachi flopped dramatically onto the floor.

“Barely alive,” he groaned. “How do you make this look easy?”

“Years of practice,” you teased, sitting beside him. “And caffeine.”

He chuckled, eyes drifting toward you. “You ever get tired of it?”

“Of dancing?”

“Of… pretending it’s just dancing.”

The air stilled. You looked at him — really looked at him — and realized maybe you weren’t the only one feeling this shift.

“I try not to think about that,” you whispered.

“Maybe you should.”

You didn’t reply. But your silence said everything.

7th week: The First Kiss.

You were running the routine for the group number — a high-energy Latin piece — when the music cut out halfway through. You both stopped, breathless, laughing.

“Okay,” you panted, pushing hair from your face, “whoever made that cut needs to be fired.”

Malachi leaned against the mirror, catching his breath. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You tilted your head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” He hesitated, then smiled nervously. “You push me. You make me better. I… kinda like that.”

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, he stepped closer.

And suddenly, his hand was on your cheek, his breath warm, eyes soft.

The kiss was hesitant — brief, stolen, and absolutely perfect.

You pulled back first, heart hammering. “We can’t.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I wanted to.”

Two Weeks Later

Things hadn’t changed between you on the surface. You still trained hard, laughed between takes, filmed promos like nothing had happened. But everyone noticed something.

The chemistry was different now — heavier, real.

Fans were obsessed. #TeamY/Nachi trended weekly. Interviewers commented on your connection. Even the judges teased you.

You brushed it all off with a smile, but deep down, you knew: the line between partner and something more had already blurred beyond repair.

It happened

It was a Sunday afternoon. You and Malachi stayed late, running your routine for the next night’s live show.

It was a dance. He lifted you effortlessly, both of you lost in the moment.

When you landed, the music still echoing faintly, he didn’t let go right away.

Your faces were close. Too close.

And without overthinking, he kissed you again.

Soft, quick, hidden behind the shadows of the rehearsal mirror.

Neither of you noticed the production assistant across the room snapping behind-the-scenes photos for social media.

The Next Morning: The photo got Twitter first.

There you were. And Malachi. Kissing.

#Y/NandMalachi trended instantly.

Fans went feral

The comments flooded your notifications before you even saw the photo.

Your phone buzzed nonstop — friends, family, producers.

Then: Incoming call: Malachi ❤️

You answered, heart pounding. “Malachi—”

“I know,” he sighed. “I saw it.”

There was a pause.

Then he laughed softly. “Well… guess we’re not that good at hiding it.”

You covered your face. “We’re dead.”

“Hey,” he said, voice calm and warm. “Let them talk. They already love us. Maybe it’s time we stop pretending.”

“Malachi, if the producers—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted gently. “You make me happy. Isn’t that kinda the point?”

You blinked, eyes softening. “You’re really saying that while trending?”

“Guess I like making statements.”

That Night, After rehearsal

You walked out of the studio, hoodie up, hair tucked away, but Malachi was waiting by the door — hands in his pockets, same gentle smile.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, stepping closer. “We survived the internet.”

“Barely.” He chuckled, reaching for your hand. “But if I’m gonna get caught kissing someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

You smiled, finally intertwining your fingers. “ You do realize this is gonna be the only thing anyone talks about all week, right?”

“Good,” he said simply. “Maybe they’ll vote for us.”

You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder.

The world could make theories all they wanted

You didn’t care anymore.

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@wbbloversblog

[kaliuchisangel]

Hey I had this request can you do one where Malachi having constant anxiety attack ands not eating.

He tries to deal with it all alone but when the reader finds out he breaks down and the reader comforts him? (This happens a during the tour and his in the start of filming for Camp Rock 3 the reader finds out) just a bunch of angst and comfort.

Thanks ILY 🫶🏽

𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Wc: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst and Comfort

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

The world loved Malachi.

But lately… he couldn’t even breathe.

He’d been on tour for almost two months when it started. He told himself it was fine. That it was just stress. That he didn’t need to talk about it.

You noticed the changes first. The untouched food. The way his hoodie seemed to swallow him up more every week.

You’d been his best friend for years. So when he started dodging you, ignoring your texts, canceling coffee plans, forcing smiles that didn’t feel real.

And when Camp Rock 3 rehearsals started, it only got worse.

He was sitting in the corner, legs pulled up to his chest, hoodie drawn tight. Everyone else had gone for a break, but he stayed, frozen, eyes staring at the same lyric sheet for ten minutes straight.

You entered quietly, holding a smoothie and a small box of food you’d picked up.

“Hey,” you said softly. “Thought I’d bring lunch before the next scene.”

Malachi didn’t look up. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

You frowned. “You said that yesterday.”

He gave a small, fake smile. “Guess I’m just not feeling it.”

You sat beside him, close enough to touch, but careful not to crowd. The silence stretched — heavy, aching, real.

Then, softly, “Mal, talk to me.”

He flinched. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

You reached over and touched his wrist, and that’s when you felt it — the way he was shaking.

“Hey, hey… look at me,” you whispered.

When he finally did, his eyes were glassy. The mask cracked and behind it was exhaustion it broke your heart.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he breathed, voice trembling. “Everyone thinks I’m fine — but I’m not. I’m so tired, Y/N. Every day, it’s interviews and rehearsals and pretending I’m okay when I can barely breathe. I haven’t slept in days. I can’t eat. I—”

He broke off mid-sentence, chest heaving as panic clawed up his throat. His breathing came fast and shallow. You recognized it immediately.

Anxiety attack.

You dropped the food, grabbed his hands. “Okay, okay, hey, breathe with me.”

He shook his head, tears spilling over. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. In through your nose, okay? With me.” You breathed in slow and exaggerated, keeping your eyes on his. He mirrored you — uneven at first, then steadier.

It took minutes. Maybe ten. Long enough that you lost count.

By the end, his breathing slowed, the tremor in his hands easing slightly. He leaned forward until his forehead rested on your shoulder, body limp with exhaustion.

And then he just — broke. Quiet sobs shaking through him.

You wrapped your arms around him, running a hand through his curls, whispering every grounding word you could think of. “I’ve got you, Mal. You’re safe. You’re not alone. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

He clung to you like he’d drown if he let go.

Later, when his tears had run out, he stayed tucked against you, voice raw.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he whispered. “I’m supposed to be the guy who has it together. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” you said, brushing a tear from his cheek. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time. You’re allowed to fall apart. You’ve been carrying too much alone.”

He gave a watery laugh. “I didn’t even realize how bad it got until you walked in. It’s like… I forgot what it feels like to breathe around someone who doesn’t expect me to be Malachi Barton, the star.”

You smiled softly. “Then be Malachi, the person. The boy who drinks apple juice at 2 a.m. and makes dumb puns when he’s nervous. The one who doesn’t need to prove anything.”

His lips quirked up slightly. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do.”

You reached for the smoothie and held it out. “Small steps, yeah? You don’t have to eat everything. Just sip a little. For me.”

He hesitated — then took it. And when he drank, you could’ve sworn something in the air shifted.

Not fixed. But healing.

He was lying on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, half-asleep while you sat next to him scrolling through your phone.

For the first time in weeks, he looked peaceful. Before you could stand, his fingers found yours.

“Stay?” he mumbled.

You smiled. “Always.”

And when he whispered “thank you,” it wasn’t small. It was full of relief.

He still had bad days. You were there for those too.

But every time he stumbled, he’d reach for your hand. And every time, you’d hold it tighter.

It was raining — real, heavy rain after rehearsal. You stood under an awning with him, sharing a hoodie because of course he forgot his.

He looked at you, rain dripping down his curls, eyes soft.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “You know that day you found me? I think about it a lot.”

You tilted your head. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “You saved me, Y/N. Not like—” he hesitated, fumbling for words, “not like in a movie. Just… you made me want to try again.”

You felt your chest tighten, tears blurring your vision.

“I’ll always be here,” you whispered. “You don’t have to face anything alone.”

He took a shaky breath, rain running down his face. “Can I—” He didn’t finish the sentence. He just kissed you.

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@wbbloversblog

[kaliuchisangel]

Can you write to Miguel that he wants his girlfriend to be the protagonist of one of his short films, but she refuses (for whatever reason you choose), but ends up accepting and it's a super cute short film?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐈𝐧 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐦

Miguel Mora x Reader

Wc: 398

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

miguel’s been talking about this short film for weeks. scripts on his desk, random notes on his phone, voice memos at 3am. every time you hang out, he’s got that same spark in his eyes when he mentions it.

then one afternoon, he looks at you and says, “i want you to be in it.”

you blink at him. “me?”

“yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “you’d be perfect. it’s about this girl who feels invisible but finds someone who really sees her.”

you laugh a little. “miguel, i can’t act.”

“you don’t have to,” he says, grinning. “just be yourself.”

you shake your head. “no way. i’ll mess it up. get someone else to do it.”

he doesn’t push. just shrugs and says, “okay. but i think you’d be great.”

still, you keep thinking about it. about the way he said it gentle like he meant it.

a week later, you show up to his place and say, “fine. i’ll do it. but if it sucks, it’s your fault.”

he beams, eyes lighting up in that way that makes your heart trip a little. “deal."

filming ends up being easier than you thought. miguel’s camera follows you through scenes — walking barefoot in the grass, looking out a car window, laughing at something off-screen. he keeps telling you, “don’t act. just feel it.”

and you do. because every time he looks at you from behind the camera, you forget to be nervous.

when it’s done, he edits for days. one night, he shows you the final version. the screen glows in the dark room — music, moments, sunlight, you smiling at the end.

you look at him after, voice small. “it’s really pretty.”

he smiles, eyes soft. “you were the story, you know. i just filmed it.”

you roll your eyes but you’re smiling too. “you’re so corny.”

“yeah,” he says, grinning. “but you love me anyway.”

and you do.

TAGLIST

@prettygalleria

@wbbloversblog

@halleysbossanova

@lowkeyheckyeah

[kaliuchisangel]

Hi! Could you write something about Malachi for the reader? It's her birthday and her family is teasing her because she's never had a boyfriend (she's already an adult, she was about to turn 19). And she tells them that if she has a boyfriend, he's just late and her family laughs because they think she's lying and then Malachi shows up with a big bouquet of roses. you add something like the reader's cousins flirting with him in front of the reader, Malachi and the World Collide boys put a stop to it? Thank you, I love your writing!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐔𝐩

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Wc: 2.8k

Warnings: Fluff and drama

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

Your birthday cake sat untouched in the middle of the table, candles flickering while your family grinned at you with that look.

“So…” your aunt began, drawing out the word like she was on a talk show. “Nineteen, huh? Practically grown. And still no boyfriend?”

You forced a laugh, stabbing your fork into a piece of cake just to keep your hands busy. “I told you guys, I do have a boyfriend.”

Your cousin snorted, nearly choking on her soda. “Right. And let me guess — he goes to another school?”

Your mom tried to hide her smile behind her glass of water. Your younger cousins exchanged wide-eyed glances, already preparing to clock your tea.

You rolled your eyes. “No, seriously. He’s just… running late.”

“Late?” your uncle said with mock disbelief. “He’s been ‘late’ for three birthdays now.”

That sent everyone laughing again. You pressed your lips together, trying to fight back your smile because — okay, yeah, maybe it sounded bad. But if they only knew.

Because your boyfriend wasn’t just anyone.

He was Malachi Barton.

The Malachi Barton — actor, singer, tour performer. The guy who could make a million people smile with one Instagram live and still manage to text you, “good morning, pretty girl.”

You didn’t blame them for not believing you. It sounded like something straight out of a fanfiction comment section. But you’d kept your relationship private for the most part, only your closest friends knowing the truth.

“Sure, sure,” your cousin Brianna said. “Your celebrity boyfriend is on his way, right?”

You gave her a pointed look. “Actually… yeah. He is.”

The table erupted into giggles again, and you sighed, poking your cake while your phone buzzed beside you.

Malachi ❤️:

on my way beautiful. traffic’s insane but i’ve got something for u ;)

Your heart flipped. You typed back quickly, ignoring the teasing around you.

You:

hurry before my cousins bully me to death 😭

Malachi ❤️:

on it. save me a slice of cake.

You smiled down at your phone, warmth spreading through your chest.

And then — the doorbell rang.

Everyone quieted.

You froze mid-bite, fork hovering in the air as your cousin raised a brow. “Oh no way…”

“I’ll get it!” your mom said cheerfully, but you were already out of your seat, heart hammering as you sprinted for the door.

You opened it and there he was.

Malachi stood on your porch, in his hands was a massive bouquet of red roses.

“Hey, birthday girl,” he said softly, eyes lighting up the second he saw you.

You blinked, your breath catching. “You… actually came.”

He smirked. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

Before you could even respond, he leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, then held the bouquet out. The scent of roses filled the air, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he said, “Hope I’m not too late.”

Behind you, you heard a chorus of gasps, whispers, and one very loud, “WAIT, THAT’S MALACHI BARTON!”

You groaned. “Here we go…”

Malachi chuckled under his breath, giving your hand a squeeze before following you inside. The entire dining room went silent.

Your aunt blinked. Your uncle looked like he’d seen a ghost. Your cousins? They were whispering to each other so fast it sounded like static.

“Everyone,” you said awkwardly, gesturing to him. “This is Malachi. My boyfriend.”

He waved, all casual charm. “Hey, everyone. Happy birthday, babe.”

Cue the chaos.

“Oh my gosh, it’s really him!”

“Wait, he’s your boyfriend?!”

“He’s so much cuter in person.”

“Can we take a picture?”

You wanted to melt into the floor as your cousins immediately started fawning. Your cousin Brianna — the one who’d been teasing you the most — stood up, flipping her hair.

“So, Malachi,” she said, voice suddenly syrupy sweet. “What’s it like being famous? You must meet so many girls…”

You narrowed your eyes. Really?

Malachi smiled politely, still holding your hand under the table. “I meet a lot of people, yeah. But there’s only one girl I’m with.”

“Aw,” Brianna said, leaning on her hand. “That’s sweet. But, you know, if you ever want to hang out with someone else…” she paused, twirling her hair, “I’m free this weekend.”

You nearly choked on your drink.

Malachi blinked, clearly caught off guard, but before he could respond, another voice called from the living room — one you recognized instantly.

“Yo, bro, you got here before us?”

You turned to see MK, Joshua, and CJ walking in, grinning like idiots and holding party bags.

“Surprise!” Joshua laughed. “We brought backup!”

Your jaw dropped. “You guys too?!”

“Of course,” CJ said, hugging you. “You think we’d miss your birthday? Malachi wouldn’t stop talking about you the whole ride here.”

Malachi groaned. “Bro.”

MK smirked. “Nah, don’t ‘bro’ me. You were literally like, ‘I hope she likes the roses. Should I have gotten pink ones too?’”

Your family laughed but Brianna didn’t back off. She stood up again, moving toward the boys. “You guys are from the tour, right? You’re all so cute.”

CJ raised a brow. “She’s taken, you know.”

Joshua nodded toward you. “Yeah, and I don’t think her boyfriend appreciates that tone, either.”

Malachi shot them a grateful look, but your cousins kept giggling until your mom finally stepped in, clapping her hands. “Alright, alright! Let’s eat before the cake melts.”

You spent the rest of the evening surrounded by laughter, food, and the warm chaos that came with your family. Malachi helped you serve dessert, leaning close every now and then to whisper jokes in your ear that made you giggle under your breath.

When everyone was distracted, he leaned down to kiss your cheek and murmured, “You look really happy.”

You smiled softly. “I am. You being here made my whole day.”

He brushed his thumb over your hand. “You deserve that and more. I don’t care how far I have to drive. I’ll always show up for you.”

Your chest fluttered. “You really meant that, huh?”

“Always.”

And when he kissed you right there in front of the cake.

your family finally believed you.

Malachi just laughed into the kiss, pulling you a little closer. “Happy birthday, baby."

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@wbbloversblog

[kaliuchisangel]

Can you write Miguel Mora with a reader who always looks angry and like intimidating, thank you

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

Miguel Mora x Reader

Wc: 327

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

everyone always thinks you’re mad. maybe it’s your face, or how you don’t talk much, or how your voice stays flat no matter what you say. people move out of your way in hallways. some even whisper about it.

miguel just laughs about it. he says you have “black cat energy.”

you roll your eyes every time he says that, but secretly, you smile.

right now, you’re sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling through your phone, expression blank as usual. miguel walks in, sees you, and grins. “you look like you’re about to fight somebody.”

“hi to you too,” you mutter, not looking up.

he comes over and nudges your knee. “you know you scare people, right?”

you give him a look. “do i scare you?”

he leans in close, a teasing smile tugging at his mouth. “not even a little.”

you blink at him, and for a second your tough expression cracks. he always does that — disarms you like it’s nothing.

he sits beside you, shoulder brushing yours. “they don’t know you like i do,” he says, quieter now. “you’re soft. you just don’t show it.”

“i’m not soft,” you mumble, staring down at your hands.

“you are,” he says, smiling. “you just hide it behind the face.”

you roll your eyes again, but this time there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. “you’re annoying.”

he grins wider. “yeah, but you like me.”

you shake your head, but lean into him anyway. he wraps his arm around you like he’s done it a million times before.

TAGLIST

@lowkeyheckyeah

@wbbloversblog

@halleysbossanova

@prettygalleria

[kaliuchisangel]

Hello! Can I request fluff for Miguel Mora? Something like him and the reader cuddling with her on his lap, and her always telling him how happy she is to share her life with him? Please.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

Miguel Mora x Reader

Wc: 276

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

it’s late. the tv’s still on but neither of you are really paying attention. you’re sitting on his lap, legs tucked on either side of him, his arms loose around your waist.

you play with the strings on his hoodie and say, “i’m really happy, you know that?”

he hums, barely looking away from the screen. “yeah?”

“yeah,” you whisper. “i like my life with you. even the boring parts.”

he smiles a little, one of those small ones that reach his eyes. “you’re only saying that ‘cause i let you steal my hoodies.”

you laugh. “that too.”

there’s a pause — not awkward, just soft. you look at him, really look at him, and your chest feels warm. “i mean it, though. i’m happy i get to share all this with you.”

miguel’s hand moves up your back, slow and easy. “you’re stuck with me now,” he says, voice quiet against your shoulder.

“good,” you mumble, pressing your face into his neck. “that’s exactly what i want.”

he kisses your hair. you can feel his smile against you. and for a second, it’s like the world stops trying to be anything more than this. Just you and him.

TAGLIST

@lowkeyheckyeah

@prettygalleria

@halleysbossanova

@wbbloversblog

[kaliuchisangel]

This is really random but can you do a Malachi x reader? I saw the tiktok lives Malachi would do with his friends where they would hold a talent show with fans. Can you do one where the reader’s sister gets picked but instead of showing her talent she shows yours secretly. Like you’re a dancer or smth (doesn’t have to be dancer, it can be your pick) and she sneaks in to film you for the live and Malachi is mesmerized. You can go from there however you like. Tysm.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Wc: 2.2k

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

It started like any other TikTok Live.

Malachi was on his phone, ring light angled just right, sitting on the couch in a hoodie and backwards cap while his friends crowded around behind him.

“Alright, alright,” Malachi grinned at the screen, scrolling through the comments. “It’s time for another Talent Show Live! You already know the rules — we bring fans on, you show us your talent, and the winner gets bragging rights. Let’s gooo!”

They’d gone through a few guests already: a girl who sang Olivia Rodrigo, a guy who juggled apples until one exploded on his head, someone’s cat doing absolutely nothing.

Then he saw the next username pop up. @Jayna.Y/L/N — and her profile picture was two sisters, both smiling wide in the sun.

He clicked accept.

The screen split, and a teenage girl appeared, sitting in her bedroom, grinning so wide her cheeks looked sore.

“Hi!!!” she squealed. “Hey!” Malachi laughed. “What’s your name?” “I’m Jayna! My sister’s gonna freak out when she finds out I got picked, she’s literally obsessed with you guys.”

Everyone laughed in the background. “Aww, shoutout to your sister then!” Malachi said. “What’s her name?”

Jayna hesitated for a second, then smiled mischievously. “Y/N.”

“Y/N, if you’re watching this,” he said into the camera with a grin, “your sister’s a legend.”

Jayna giggled but stayed quiet for a second too long. Malachi squinted. “You got nervous, huh? You good?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, barely containing laughter. “I just… my talent is kinda… my sister’s.”

The comment section exploded. “WAIT WHAT 💀💀” “she’s exposing her sister??” “nah this gonna be good 👀”

Malachi raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You stealing her thunder?” Jayna shook her head, already turning her camera around. “Nope. Just proving a point.”

The screen spun, and suddenly it wasn’t Jayna’s face anymore — it was you.

You were in a sunlit room, totally unaware you were being streamed to tens of thousands of people. Music played softly from a speaker as you practiced — barefoot, headphones on, lost in motion.

You weren’t performing for anyone. You were just in it. The way your body moved — confident but fluid, emotion woven into every step — was mesmerizing. You weren’t just dancing; you were telling a story without words.

Malachi went completely still. The noise in the background from his friends faded out.

You hit a turn, hair swinging, then slowed into a graceful pause — breath catching, eyes glowing from the rush.

“Yo…” Malachi whispered. “She’s insane.”

“Bro she’s actually crazy good,” one of his friends murmured offscreen.

Jayna giggled. “Told you. She’s been dancing since she was like, five. She doesn’t post her stuff though, she’s all shy about it.”

“Wait,” Malachi said, still glued to the screen. “She doesn’t know she’s live right now?”

“Nope.”

The chat went wild. “LMFAO she gonna kill her sister 😭” “Malachi falling in love rn yall see that stare”

Malachi laughed softly under his breath, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “Nah, I’m not even kidding — she’s got it. Like, stage presence, emotion — all of it.”

When the song ended, you dropped into a stretch, smiling to yourself. Jayna quickly flipped the camera back before you noticed.

“Okay, Jayna,” Malachi said, trying to play it cool even though his face was still slightly pink. “That was low-key the best ‘talent’ of the night.”

She grinned proudly. “I’ll tell her you said that.”

“Do that,” he said, laughing. “And maybe tell her she should stop hiding that kind of talent. Like—wow.”

Later that night

Your sister burst into your room like the flash, phone in hand. “YOU’RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS.”

You looked up from your laptop. “What?” “I just went live with Malachi Barton—” You froze. “What?” “AND I SHOWED HIM YOUR DANCE.”

You dropped your pen. “You WHAT?!”

Before you could even react, she shoved her phone into your hands. The replay was already up — and there he was. Watching you.

You watched his face, his smile slowly fading into something quiet and focused. The way his voice softened when he said “She’s got it.”

Your heart thumped once. Then again, harder.

“Jayna,” you groaned, trying not to smile. “You’re so dead.” She just giggled. “You’re welcome.”

The Next Day

The clip blew up on tiktok. Someone had screen-recorded Malachi’s reaction and edited it with a slowed-down version of your dance. It hit a million views in less than 24 hours.

The comments were ruthless:

“The way he looked at her???” “This is his soft era.” “@Y/N pls go on live next time we need closure 😭😭😭”

Your DMs were chaos. People had found your account and flooded it with messages.

And then, as you scrolled, one notification stood out:

malachibarton started following you. malachibarton sent you a message.

You bit your lip, smiling as you type:

Thanks. And yeah, trust me, she’s grounded for life. …But also thank you. That actually means a lot coming from you.

A minute later:

For real. You’ve got something special. Maybe you could teach me sometime? I’ve got two left feet but I’m a fast learner.

Your stomach turned.

You? Dancing? Now that’s something I’d watch.

He sent a laughing emoji.

Okay, deal. I’ll hold you to that next tour break.

Few weeks later.

You didn’t expect to see him again so soon. But your sister somehow won another fan meet giveaway (you were 90% sure she had some deal with the universe), and when you walked into the place, Malachi recognized you immediately.

He froze mid-conversation, then grinned. “No way. It’s you.”

Jayna squealed quietly and nudged you forward.

“Guess I owe you that dance lesson,” you said nervously, trying to play it cool.

He smirked, eyes warm. “Guess you do.”

You talked, laughed, even taught him a few steps. He was terrible at them — but locked in.

And when one of the staff members said, “You two look good together,” Malachi didn’t deny it. He just shot you a quick, shy smile before glancing away.

Later that night, on his tiktok live

“Alright guys,” he said, holding back a grin. “You remember the ‘girl offscreen’ from a few weeks ago? Yeah… we met today.”

The chat exploded.

He laughed. “She’s such a chill person and passionate about what she does, by the way. And she still won’t admit she’s way cooler than I am.”

A pause. Then his smile softened.

“Crazy how something so crazy can lead to meeting someone you were meant to know, huh?”

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@wbbloversblog

[kaliuchisangel]

Stealing/or swapping drinks with Malachi

𝐌𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Wc: 360

Warnings: Fluff

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ● 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Requests: open

A/N: Enjoy!

The movie was halfway over when you reached for the cup on the coffee table without looking. One sip in, you realized it wasn’t yours.

You froze mid-sip.

Across the couch, Malachi turned his head with an exaggerated squint. “Did you just drink my coffee?”

You swallowed, trying to look innocent. “Maybe.”

He leaned closer, his eyebrow raising like he was trying not to laugh. “You have your own, y’know.”

“Yeah, but mine’s cold,” you said, tucking your knees under you. “Yours tastes better.”

Malachi rolled his eyes, but his smile was already giving him away. He reached for the cup in your hands, but you dodged, clutching it to your chest like a shield.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, laughing now. “You steal my hoodies, my fries, and now my drink?”

You grinned. “It’s called sharing.”

“Sharing implies consent.”

“Well,” you said, taking another sip, “sharing is caring.”

He shook his head, pretending to be exasperated, then handed you the rest of his drink with a little sigh. “Fine. Take it. You always do anyway.”

“Thanks, Mal,” you teased.

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning back and watching you with that soft smile that gave him away every time.

TAGLIST

@alexisunknownhere

@angstandkisses

@blushnboba

@butterballnut

@casey1-2007

@classiccherryblossomfan

@elleyaps

@halleysbossanova

@hppercyjacksonlover

@imnotjadaddy

@isabela-eulalia

@laylayschipzz

@lilshawtys-stuff

@lov3lylxvender

@lovinashlin

@lowkeyheckyeah

@luckylzclerc

@maylayisa-exe

@mischivana

@prettygalleria

@ssp33dyy

@superlegend216

@ts1mp0ne

@wbbloversblog