#malachi fluff

The halls of Riverdale High had always been loud. Too loud. Lockers slamming, gossip bouncing from corner to corner, Northside kids with their polished smiles, Southside kids with their guarded stares, and everyone pretending they knew exactly who everyone else was. And somehow… no one really knew me. Not really. 

Sure, people knew of me. I floated between groups- friendly with the Vixens, respectful with the Serpents, quiet in class, never causing problems. Teachers liked me. Students didn’t dislike me. But no one knew what I could do. Not even my boyfriend. 

Malachai was leaning against my locker, spinning my combination lock lazily like he owned the place. Which, honestly… he kinda did. Southside confidence. Effortless char. That dangerous edge that made people look twice and think twice before messing with him. 

“Rehersal again?” He asked, eyebrow raised. 

I shrugged, stuffing books into my bag. “Yeah, tech week.” 

“For what again?” He pressed, like he asked before, but never really listened. 

I smiled faintly. “The musical.” 

“Right.” He said, nodding like that explained everything. “You like… backstage or something?” 

I hesitated. I could tell him. I should tell him. But something stopped me. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was the way Riverdale had a habit of twisting things. Or maybe… I just wanted one thing that was mine before the whole town got their hands on it. 

“Something like that.” I said instead. 

He didn’t push. Malachai never pushed me. He just leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. 

“Don’t stay too late. Walk home safe, yeah?” 

“Always do.” 

But as I turned away, heart thudding, one thought echoed in my chest… He has no idea. 

The auditorium was packed. Nothside. Southside. Teachers. Parents. Even people who never showed up to school events were there. Because this wasn’t just any musical. This was Hadestown. And Riverdale High had gone all out. Backstage, my hands trembled. I smoothed down my costume, Eurydice’s worn dress, soft and haunting. The fabric felt like it carried a story of its own. 

“Places!” Someone called. 

My chest tightened. This was it. I peeked through the curtain and that's when I saw him. Malachai sat in the middle row, arms crossed, looking mildly bored- but present. He showed up, of course he did. He always did for me. He just didn’t know what he showed up for… yet. 

The lights dimmed. Music swelled. The story began. I stayed hidden for my first entrance, listening to the opening numbers, grounding myself. My breathing slowed. My fear softened into something else. Something stronger. Then… my cue. I stepped into the light. And the entire room shifted. At first, people didn’t react. They didn’t realize it was me.I was just… Eurydice. Until I opened my mouth. 

And sang. 

It wasn’t just good. It wasn’t ‘school musical good’. It was the kind of voice that silenced a room. Raw. Emotional. Powerful in a way that didn’t feel rehearsed, it felt lived in. Every note carried weight. Every word felt like it mattered. 

At first, he didn’t process it. He leaned forward slowly, brows knitting together. I turned slightly, light catching my face. And it hit him. Hard. I saw him mutter something under his breath. Around him, whispers started. 

“That’s Y/N?” 

“Since when can she sing like that?” 

“Oh my God…” 

“Is she serious right now?” 

Even the Northsiders-usually composed, polished, unimpressed- were staring. Because I didn’t just sing. I became Eurydice. 

By the time Flowers hit, the entire room was mine. My voice soared. Cracked. Broke. Rose again. And somewhere in the audience, Malachai’s entire world tilted. Because he realized something terrifying. He didn’t know everything about me. And somehow I knew that made him fall harder. 

After the final bow, the curtain dropped. The applause didn’t. It exploded. People stood, cheered, and whistled. The sound was overwhelming, like the entire town had just collectively realized they’d been underestimating me. I stood there, breathing hard, heart racing, trying not to cry. I did it. I finally showed them. 

Backstage was chaos. People rushing. Hugging me. Talking over each other. 

“That was insane!” 

“You’re literally Broadway-level!” 

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone??” 

I laughed nervously, overwhelmed. 

“I just… didn’t think it mattered.” 

“Didn’t matter!?” Someone repeated. “Are you kidding??” 

When I stepped out into the lobby, it got worse. Way worse. Northsiders I barely spoke to suddenly knew my name. Girls complimenting my voice. Guys- God. The guys. 

“Hey, you were incredible- can I get your number?” 

“That performance? Unreal.” 

“You ever thought about recording something?” 

I blinked, stunned, clutching my program like a lifeline. 

“Uh- thank you- I-” 

Another voice cut in. 

“Yo, seriously, that was-” 

I turned slightly, overwhelmed, trying to respond politely without committing to anything. But inside? My chest was tight. Because there was only one reaction I cared about. And I hadn’t seen him yet. 

Then, suddenly, a hand grabbed my wrist. Firm. Familiar. I barely had time to react before I was pulled away from the crowd. Spun. And there he was. Malachai. Eyes locked on mine. Dark, intense, and completely unreadable. For a second, neither of us spoke. The noise around us blurred into nothing. 

“You…” He started, voice low. 

I swallowed. “I was gonna tell you-” 

He cut me off. Not with words. With movement. 

He pulled me closer and spun me. A full turn, my dress flaring slightly as I let out a surprised laugh. When I faced him again, his hands were still on me. Tight. Grounding. 

“Where the hell have you been hiding that?” He asked, almost breathless. 

My cheeks flushed. “I- I didn’t hide it, I just… never really-” 

“Never really what?” He pressed. “Thought it was worth telling me?” 

There was no anger in his voice. Just… disbelief. And something softer. Something that made my chest ache. 

“I didn’t think it mattered.” I admitted quietly. 

He stared at me. 

Long. 

Hard. 

Like he was memorizing me all over again. 

“Didn’t matter?” He repeated, shaking his head slightly. “You just walked out there and had the entire room eating out of your hands.” 

I laughed softly, nervous. “That’s dramatic.” 

“I don’t do dramatic.” He shot back. “That was real.” 

Behind us, people were still watching. Still whispering. Still trying to get closer. But Malachai didn’t care. Didn’t even look. 

“You’re mine, right?” He asked suddenly. 

I blinked. “Mal-” 

“No.” He corrected, softer now. “Not like that, I just-” 

He hesitated. Which never happened. 

“I just need to know I didn’t imagine that you’re still the same girl who kisses me goodbye at her locker every morning.” 

My expression softened instantly. I stepped closer, slipping my hand into his. 

“I am.” I said gently. “I’m still me.” 

He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath all night. 

“Good.” he murmured. 

Then, after a beat. 

“Because I don’t think I could handle losing you to… whatever that was.” 

I laughed, heart swelling. “It was just singing.” 

“No.” He said firmly. “It wasn’t.” 

The crowd started inching closer again. I felt it. The attention. The shift. Everything was changing. Fast. But before it could overwhelm me, Malachai tilted my chin up. Pressed his forehead to mine. And kissed me. Right there. In front of everyone. The whispers got louder. Northside girls shocked. Southside guys smirking. Phones probably coming out. But neither of us cared. When he pulled back, he smirked slightly. 

“Now they can stop asking for your number.” 

I snorted. “That’s why you kissed me?” 

“Partly.” 

I raised a brow. “And the other part?” 

His expression softened. 

Just a little. 

“Because I’m proud of you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

He smirked. “You keep noticing.” 

“That wasn’t a compliment.” 

“Didn’t say it was.” 

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

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

His eyebrow lifted. 

“Everyone says that until they get close.” 

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

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

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

“Does she have a death wish?” 

“Nothside princess slumming it.” 

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

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

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

“They think you’re dangerous.” 

His jaw tightened. 

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

“Of what?” 

“Of what’s yours.” 

His gaze snapped to mine. 

“I’m not yours.” I added quickly. 

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

My stomach flipped. 

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

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

“Maybe.” 

“You know that’s illegal, right?” 

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

“I’ve lived here three months.” 

“And?” 

“And I can handle myself.” 

“Sure, princess.” He smirked. 

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

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

“You ever get tired?” I asked softly. 

“Of what?” 

“Of being the bad guy.” 

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

“I don’t think that’s true.” 

He looked at me. 

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

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

“You comfort me.”

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

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

“Maybe you should.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Worth it!” 

“For what?” 

He turned. 

“For this!” 

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

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

“Maybe I am.” 

“Then say it.” 

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

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

“Like what?” 

“Like I’m something good.” 

My breath caught. 

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

“And what do you see?” 

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

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

His jaw tightened. 

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

His jaw tightened. 

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

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

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

Thunder cracked overhead. 

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

I reached up, fingers brushing his cheek. 

“You don’t scare me, you comfort me.”

The words were barely louder than the rain. 

His breath hitched. 

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

“Y/N.” He warned softly. 

“What?” 

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

“Then show me.” 

That was all it took. 

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

“Last chance.” He murmured. 

“For what?” 

“To walk away.” 

I smiled softly. 

“I’m not scared of you.” 

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

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

I rested my forehead against his. 

“I’ve been sure.” 

He laughed softly, disbelief and relief tangled together. 

“You’re gonna ruin my reputation.” 

I smiled. “Maybe I want to.”