#Y/n Whitly

[ficsofabotchedmind]

Family that slays together, stays together

Summary? Nope.

Warnings? Hell yeah!: Blood, murder, disposal, knives, sibling bonding over murder, just a lot.

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Every single person always overlooked Martin and Jessica Whitly’s youngest except Ainsley, their sister. 

You see while Ainsley had Malcolm, Y/n had Ainsley and while it had faltered as they got older, Ainsley and Y/n still protected one another no matter what, even helping cover up a murder. 

It was late when Y/n’s cellphone rung, looking at the phone it was Malcolm, “Ugh, what does he want? Hello?” 

Malcolm was out of breath, and he had a wild tinge to his tone, “Y/n, I need your help, it’s Ainsley.” 

Y/n’s breath caught in their throat at the thought of something happening to their big sister and as they shot up and flew around the house, they asked, “What happened?” 

Malcolm stopped for a second and then responded, “Not over the phone, just get here now.” 

With that, the siblings hung up and Y/n flew out of their house and over to their mothers. 

Letting themselves in, Y/n did a survey of everything as they walked through the house. 

Things didn’t look different, but they felt different something was off and as they walked into the dining/living area, it became clear. 

Nicholas Endicott lay on the floor with blood surrounding him and as Y/n got closer, they saw the deep slit on his throat and multiple stab wounds to his torso. 

While anyone else would balk at the sight of a dead body, especially one with so much blood and violence involved, Y/n did not. 

When you are a Whitly you’re not like others, and your father’s genetics made sure of that. 

Y/n took in every detail, and after what seemed like hours taking in every stab wound and the slit across his neck, Malcolm spoke, “We don’t have time, we need to get Endicott's body out of here before morning, hurry!” 

Y/n would ask what happened later but right now, the Surgeons children did what they do best, murder and disposal. 

Y/n went around gathering everything that was caught in the aftermath and set it aside so it could be taken care of later and once that was done, they focused on what their brother was doing, “Malcolm, let me get the next part while you finish the clean-up.” 

Malcolm was about to protest before Y/n made an obvious show of missing certain items, of course it was only a show though, Y/n was more of Martin than Malcolm or Ainsley ever would be and then you add Jessica’s issues on top and you have the perfect killing machine. 

Malcolm moved aside and gave Y/n the saw, and as the saw sunk into the flesh and worked its way through the bone all Y/n could do was smile. 

Just like their big sister, Y/n preferred a knife. It was more satisfying, anger dissipating as the knife would sink in repeatedly, blood casting into your face, spreading onto your hands, dripping. 

Malcolm observed Y/n, he saw the smile spread wide, the calm in their eyes, the precise cuts Y/n made along Endicott's body to dispose of him, he saw someone he would have to watch and make sure no one found out. Malcolm wasn’t stupid, he had a feeling this may not be Y/n’s first time, they’re a Whitly. 

Hurrying up and getting the body dissected, put into bags, and the bags into suitcases, Malcolm handed the rest of the clean-up off to Y/n, “I’m not stupid, finish the clean up, get yourself clean and then dispose of everything, we meet back here. Oh, if Ainsley asks, I did it. Go it?” 

Y/n cocked their brown along with their head, “Yeah, got it. And Malcolm, what did Ainsley do?” 

Taking a breath, Malcolm spoke, “I’ll explain when this is done, we just need to hurry up.” 

Y/n took the supplies once again and set to work, after a bit longer of scrubbing and missing a spot on a book for the hell of it because let’s be honest, it will be easier for all of them for their mother to learn that way. 

After getting everything cleaned up, Y/n went to go shower but decided to check in Ainsley first.  

Looking inside the room, Y/n could clearly see their big sister still sleeping and Y/n carefully made their way back out, into the hall and continued to their bathroom. 

Once in, they took a black trash bag, stripped, and shoved the clothes in the bag to burn with everything else. 

Setting the water to the hottest temperature, Y/n got in and took their time.  

Standing there with their head down, watching with a smile as the blood mixed with the water and swirled down the drain. 

After 15 minutes of standing there, Y/n heard the door open and rushed through the rest of the shower. 

Once done and dressed Y/n took everything and with Malcolm’s help, disposed of the other half of the evidence. 

Going back to their childhood home they finally were able to sit, and Y/n could finally get some answers, “Malcolm, what happened with Endicott?” 

Malcolm sighed and looked to Y/n debating on telling the truth or not, but he decided it would be best to tell them the truth, “I’ll tell you the condensed version. Endicott came over and Ainsley…I…Y/n, Ainsley blacked out and killed him.” 

Y/n suppressed the urge to roll their eyes at him, and asked, “Does she recall anything?” 

Malcolm grew quiet and thought back and the answered, “Not that I could tell, she asked what happened, I told her it was me, and then I sent her to clean up.” 

Y/n already knowing that Ainsley had a bit more of Martin in her than Malcolm did but less than them asked, “Is it possible she does but she’s lying about it?” 

Malcolm sighed and was about to answer when the two heard Ainsley get up and quickly rushed out, “Let’s hope not.” 

Making her way in the dining/living area, Ainsley did a once over of the area and asked in a slight whisper, “Is it all done?”  

Y/n took the initiative and stepped forward, “It’s all done and over, we don’t have to worry about Nicholas Endicott any longer.” 

Ainsley produced a small smile and collapsed in Y/n’s arms, “Thank God!” 

Staying there for a minute but then retreating, Ainsley looked Y/n in the eye and in that moment, they knew that Ainsley wasn’t lying. 

Malcolm motioned that he was going in the kitchen for food so they could all eat and after the night that was just had, they certainly needed it. 

Sitting on the couch, Ainsley patted the seat beside her motioning for the youngest out of the 3 to sit and once they did, she dropped her head on their shoulder, “Thank you for helping Malcolm, I know you two don’t necessarily get along but you did tonight to protect the family, so thank you.” 

Y/n took a breath and laid their head on top of Ainsley’s, “Of course. We need to stick together, or we will all fall. We are now all complicit in this, Ainsley and we must stick together.” 

After staying quiet for a few minutes, Ainsley spoke as Malcolm walked in the room, “I know, and we will.” 

Taking the food from Malcolm, they all ate in silence but after an hour, Y/n spoke calmly before taking a bite from their sandwich, “Just to be clear with both of you, if anyone gets too close to the truth and threatens this family in anyway, I am going to kill them with no hesitation.” 

Both Ainsley and Malcolm observed Y/n, they knew in that moment that their sibling was speaking the truth, they knew no matter who it was, Y/n would kill them to protect the family secrets. 

All three looked at each other and made a silent pact that if anyone gets close, they had to go. 

Most would think that this calm would seem eerie, but they are Whitly’s after all and murder is what they do best.  

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Bonus: After the reveal and learning that Ainsley knew 

“Sooooo, how many have you killed?” Ainsley asked with a side eye 

Malcolm gaped and Y/n laughed, “Enough.” 

Malcolm’s eyes got wider, “When??” 

Y/n casually asked, “Before or after Ainsley killed Endicott?” 

Malcolm had had it, they were going to drive him further up the wall than he already was, “Enough, I need sleep. You two clean, I’m going to my room.” 

The two youngest snickered, the murder had helped them grow closer once again but before Malcolm could leave the room, Y/n asked, “Does it help to know they were all bad?” 

Malcolm sighed and thought with a shake of his head as he left behind the giggling pair, “So that’s who’s been killing those people who have been released, not surprised.” 

Both Jessica and Malcolm could hear them cackling and Y/n shout, “The family that slays together, stays together.” 

Jessica groaned and downed her wine but smiled slightly at the fact they had at least bonded over something and went back to her writing; Malcolm shook his head with a soft smile and made his way up to his room. 

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Science Behind the Madness (Martin Whitly)

Martin Whitly x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: You're lucky to have a sexual partner so versed in the science behind the female orgasm.

CW: medical play (gloves, patients chair, medical talk), thigh slapping, daddy kink, overstimulation, dirty talk, verbal humiliation. vaginal fingering

Prodigal Sons tag list: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

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“Did you know,” Martin says as he slides one gloved, lubed-up finger across your soaked slit. “The behind-the-scenes of the female orgasm is really quite fascinating.” He’s grinning that killer shark grin that you love oh so much. It’s not cute, that’s for sure, in fact, it’s terrifying. A true darkness lay beneath that grin, those eyes. And yet, despite this, that darkness turned you on like nothing else. 

“I-is it?” You stutter, clit already pulsing despite the fact Martin hadn’t even done anything yet. 

“Oh, yes,” he said, absent-mindedly fingering at your slit. His eyes didn’t leave yours for a moment. “See, right now? Your sweet little cunt is lengthening, the cells in your vaginal walls lubricating you. That’s called the ‘excitement’ stage. Not an overly scientific name, I know.” 

You squirm in the stirrups of the patient's chair, cunt clenching on nothing. Martin laughs, and flicks at your clit teasingly. 

“Even that pretty clitoris of yours is starting to swell, isn’t it? How sweet, I’ve barely touched you and you’re so needy for me.” Martin’s tongue flicks across his front teeth, his eyes finally splitting from yours down to look at your pussy. He spreads two fingers across your slit now, splitting your labia apart. Your cheeks flush at the vague humiliation of the act. 

“Oh, but not just your clit, hmm? No, your nipples, too, they start to engorge. I’ll bet they’re starting to get perky, now, aren’t they?” 

You whimper, chewing on your lip. You’re going to start grinding on his fingers soon if he doesn’t finger fuck you to within an inch of your life in the next two seconds. Martin seems to understand this and tuts mockingly before sinking those two fingers to the knuckle inside you. You groan with relief, that deep ache inside easing. 

“Oh, there she is. Look at that. Looks like you’re entering the plateau stage, sweetness,” his fingers start to move, stroking your inner walls and stretching you out before beginning to thrust. You moan openly, to which Martin shushes you with a loving grin. “Now, during the plateau stage, all your other senses are washed away as your brain starts to focus on your orgasm.” 

His fingers start thrusting harder, and you struggle to keep your knees from closing. Martin wouldn’t appreciate that, and he’d have to punish you. You weren’t in the mood for a punishment just now. He chuckles. From his angle, he can almost see your clit twitching and pulsing with pleasure. 

“Oh I know, darling, you want Daddy to play with that pretty clit, don’t you? Can’t cum without it, I know. It’s very common, actually,” his fingers fuck into you harder as he continues. “I believe it’s something like eighty per cent of women can’t finish without clitoral stimulation.” 

Your head drops back into the headrest. You’re panting, chest heaving and sweat beginning to bead along your skin. God, you want to cum. Martin knows exactly how to keep you from doing so, however. He’s got your insides mapped out like a surgical textbook. He knows exactly what spots to hit to make you keen, which spots to avoid that hurt, or which spots to ruthlessly slam into you to make you cum harder than a fountain hose. 

Right now, though, he’s making you wait for it. 

“Where was I?” His fingers slow, and he rubs his thumb over your clit in soft, thoughtful motions. “Oh, yes, the plateau stage. Do you notice how you’re breathing harder now? That’s part of the plateau stage, darling.”

His fingers start stretching you out again, thrusting back and forth, aiming directly for that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Some of the outer parts of the vagina start to engorge with blood,” he continues, completely engrossed by the view of his fingers disappearing and reappearing from your sopping cunt. “Your heart rate, respiratory functions and blood pressure continue to increase as you get closer to that precious orgasm.” 

You bite back the moans threatening to slip loose, and your thighs shake with the effort of staying open. 

“And when you orgasm, and you will- fucking- orgasm for me, darling, that’ll be a whole bunch of vaginal and pelvic floor muscle contractions. Oh, look at that, so close for daddy, hmm? Such a good girl for me, come on.” 

You’re getting so close now, muscles starting to tense, your mouth opening in a silent plea.

“That’s it, oh, look at you. Such a prime example of the female form, hmm? So exquisite. My darling, come for me.”

 

When you can’t even utter a word, and you seem to just be leaning against that precipice, Martin scowls, flashing a murderously determined look towards you. 

“My dear,” he warns. “If you don’t cum for me, you’re going to regret it, I promise you.” He brings his other hand forward, slapping lightly at the inside of your thigh. Your whole body jumps, and Martin tuts. “Come on, little slut, cum for Daddy. Right. Now.” 

His words push you over the edge, orgasm ripping through you. Martin laughs, fucking you through the waves of pleasure. Fucking you through those contractions. You moan wantonly, muscles finally giving in and starting to relax.

“There we go, right there, sweet thing,” Martin says, all smiles once again. “That’s the resolution stage. Post-orgasm the blood pumps back through your system and away from your pretty little cunt.”

 

His fingers had started to slow as your orgasm drained out of you, your clit pulsing pleasurably. It was almost too much. 

“Another interesting fact for you, my dear. Males tend to need time to recuperate after orgasm,” he goes on. You whimper as his fingers start to speed back up again, abusing your, overstimulated G-spot. “But women? Oh, they can go over, and over, and over again. Essentially no recuperation time.”

He scrunches his cheeks up teasingly, standing up from his chair to lean over you, his arm pistons back and forth harder now and without mercy. He was going to make you cum whether you wanted to or not. 

“Isn’t that just- fascinating? I think so. You’re going to cum for me. One more time. Or two, if I feel like it. Daddy wants to watch you come undone on his fingers. And if you’re a good little whore, daddy will fuck you good and proper later, honey, hmm?” 

You nod, head dropping back onto the rest behind you. Your whole body is convulsing with the stimulation. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re reaching that peak again, much to Martin’s visible pleasure. 

“Oh, that’s it. Cum all over daddy’s fingers, darling.” 

You whine, legs twitching with the aftermath of your second orgasm. Martin pulls the glove from his fingers, tossing it into the bin in the corner of the room. 

“See? Now, wait until I tell you all about the benefits of toys, my dear.” 

Martin smirks deviously. 

“That will certainly be a night to remember.”

[noforkingclue]

By Any Means Chapter 16 (Malcolm Bright x reader)

Prodigal Son tag list: @queenoffandom08, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“I still can’t believe that Gil agreed to this?” you said, “What did you say to him that persuaded him?”

“Oh, just the truth.” Said Malcolm

“Which is?”

“My father won’t let this go until we see him.”

“Ah.”

You shifted uncomfortably as you looked around the prison. You knew that it wasn’t your regular prison but it still made you uneasy. Your position with the NYPD was still fragile and you knew that one false move would end up with you behind bars. Despite having Malcolm on your side (at least you hoped so) you couldn’t rely on anything.

Your breath hitch as you felt fingers graze against your own. You pulled your hand back sharply and gave Malcolm a wide eyed stare. Malcolm’s face fell for a second before he said,

“Sorry. That was… I was…”

“Yeah,” you muttered looking away, your cheeks hot, “I guessed.”

The two of you walked in awkward silence as you got closer and closer to the cell that held Malcolm’s father. You swallowed thickly as you stood in front of it and when Malcolm took your hand you didn’t shake it off. He gave it a reassuring squeeze which you returned. You had a feeling that he needed this much more than you ever would.

“Malcolm, my boy, how nice of you to visit! And how nice is for you to bring your friend.”

Your cheeks burned at the inflection on the word ‘friend’ and it was then you realised that your hand was still linked with Malcom’s. Martin’s gaze flicked to them and you quickly let go. He took a step towards you and you instinctively took a step back. You didn’t want to be any closer to him then was strictly necessary. You weren’t about to step over that line.

“My dear,” said Martin, “There’s no need to be so nervous. As you can see, I am unable to hurt you.”

“Don’t call me that, Mr Whitly.” You said

“Doctor,” he corrected, “And please, call me Martin. I must admit I am hurt that it’s taken Malcolm so long to introduce you to me, although I can also understand why. You’ve met Malcolm’s mother.”

“It’s not like that.” Malcolm said softly

“No? Jessica and I were exactly the same when we first started courting.”

“Courting,” you looked at Malcolm who looked like he wanted to ground to swallow him whole, “who even uses the word courting.”

“My apologises,” said Martin, “dating then. Is that the correct term?”

“Father,” Malcolm said sternly, “we’re not dating. We’re just…”

He trailed off and glanced over at you.

“Colleagues?” you said

“Friends?” Malcolm said at the same time

“Hmm,” Martin’s smirked widened at yours and Malcolm’s embarrassment, “Of course, my boy, you know your own feelings better. Now,” he moved to sit down and steepled his fingers, “Why don’t you update me on this case of yours. It’s a fascinating little puzzle.”

“You told him?” you asked Malcolm, shocked

“Not everything,” Malcolm said, not meeting your eyes, “But I thought we could use some… expert help.”

“It takes a serial killer to catch a serial killer. Very ‘Silence of the Lambs’.” You said dryly

Malcolm gave you a half smile as he stepped over the line. He looked back at you but you just folded your arms and leant against the wall. You said that you were going to meet his father but you didn’t have to get close to him.

“So,” Martin clapped his hands and smiled at the two of you, “You finally figured out that your girl- sorry- you colleague/friend’s life is in danger.”

You bristled at the sentence but didn’t say anything. Malcolm just ran a hand over his face and said,

“Yes. Y/n doesn’t think that there’s anything to worry about. I’m not too sure.”

“Y/n,” Martin said slowly, “what a lovely name. I am afraid that Malcolm is correct, there is a threat to your life. Now,” he gave you a bright smile that was probably meant to be charming but just sent chills down your spine, “this is going to be a difficult conversation. It would be much easier if you were to come a bit closer.”

Your eyes flicked to Malcolm who gave you a soft, reassuring smile. You took a deep breath and stepped over the line. Martin’s smile widened and he said,

“Good. Now then, let’s begin.”

[writethrough]

I've been waiting for this for so long ! Someone finally accepting Malcolm Bright fic requests ! I love this character so much for so many reasons. So, maybe you could do a Malcolm Bright x Reader or a Malcolm Bright x Original Female Character fic where reader / OC is either his girlfriend or best friend (whatever you decide ☺️) and she stays in at his loft for a few days to take care of him because he is homesick, and she comforts him when he has night terrors. He feels so loved and cherished and valued that he eventually tells her more about his intimate fears (he already told her about his disorders, Martin Whitly, the girl in the Box, Watkins, but he feared she will run away if she found out about his most obscure thoughts and fears because of so many past rejections) and then she reassures him and tells him that she loves him. - 😩 Eventually Malcolm opens up to her more and allows himself to show his vulnerability to her by crying on her shoulder while they hug. You get it. Just pure sweetness and care 🤍

Thanks ;) And please take care 🤍

So Be It

(Malcolm Bright x Gender-Neutral Reader)

Warnings: Language (one little f-word), sick Malcolm, softboi Malcolm, pining

Word Count: 1849

A/N: Soft Malcolm makes my heart briefly melt from its icy chamber. Sweetness and fluff are my guilty pleasures if you couldn't tell from my other fics! I don't think I used pronouns in this so I'm marking it as gender-neutral—hope that's okay! I'd like as many people to enjoy it as possible. Thank you for the request! And for being patient as I work through my ask box. I hope you enjoy!

“Malcolm, I say this with love, but you are the bane of my existence,” you said after opening every cabinet in his kitchen. Stale crackers and tea bags. That was it.

You had barged into his apartment after he hadn’t responded to any of your texts this morning. You knew his schedule by heart, and no matter what, he texted you back before he left for work. When an hour had passed without you hearing from him, you used your spare key and waltzed right in to find him bundled up on the couch, nose red and tissues littering the coffee table.

He groaned. “I’ve been busy with cases.”

“So busy you couldn’t have groceries delivered?” You crossed your arms even though he couldn’t see you over the back of the couch.

“I forgot,” he whined. One thing you knew about Malcolm Bright: he got whiny when sick. You imagined if you weren't so in love with him, you'd find it annoying.

You huffed, picking up his phone from the coffee table and placing a grocery order.

“There. It’ll be here in an hour,” you said, gently lifting his head so it could rest in your lap.

“Doesn’t that cost more?” His eyes were closed, and a blanket was pulled up to his chin.

“I’m sorry, which one of us actually owns their apartment?”

He peaked up at you through one eye. “Touché.”

You carded your fingers through his hair, and he let out a sigh of contentment.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know.” His voice was raspy from his sore throat.

“I kind of do. If not to help you get better than to keep you here. I’m afraid if I take my eyes off you for too long, you’ll sneak off to work.” You smiled warmly. Sometimes you thought Malcolm loved his job a tad too much. But it was endearing nonetheless.

“I don’t think I could move if I wanted to. My head’s killing me,” he said, squinting up at you.

“Get some rest. I’ll be here if you need me,” you said.

—

An hour later, there was a knock at the door, and you silently cursed as Malcolm stirred.

“(Y/N)?”

“It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.”

You carefully shifted him off your lap and grabbed the bags from the deliverer. It wasn’t much, just the basics, honey, and soup ingredients. He hadn’t eaten anything since you arrived, so you put a slice of bread in the toaster as you finished putting away the stuff you didn't need for the soup.

“(Y/N)?” Malcolm stood on the opposite side of the island, eyes rimmed red. He looked like a kicked puppy.

Striding toward him, you placed a hand on his forehead.

“Go lay back down. You’re burning up and need your rest,” you said.

He only groaned and leaned his head onto your shoulder. God, you hated seeing him like this.

You rubbed up and down his blanket-covered arms. “C’mon, honey, why don’t you go lay in your bed, and I’ll bring you some toast.”

He mumbled an “okay” in your neck and shuffled toward his room.

A few minutes later, you brought him his food and more tea.

“Thank you,” he said, his big, wet eyes gazing at you.

You brushed a stray hair out of his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but his shoulders shook ever so often.

“Do you want me to get you a hoodie?” you asked, watching as he took a small bite.

“No. I’m too hot,” he mumbled.

“Okay, finish that, and I’m gonna get your next dose.”

You returned, and he’d laid the half-eaten toast on his nightstand and sipped at the tea.

“Here.”

You switched the mug for the medicine and placed the cup down to hand him the glass of water. After swallowing, he didn’t say a word as he shuffled underneath the blankets.

“Get some sleep. I’ll work on some soup for later,” you said, using your hands to push off the bed.

But one of his stopped you from beneath the sheets.

“Please stay,” he whispered.

Taking in his current state, you couldn’t help the throbbing in your chest and the overwhelming urge to hold him. You wanted to take all of his pain away and keep him from ever feeling like this again.

He tried not to rely on people. The fact that he was asking you to stay and not pushing you out told you how terrible he felt. You’d do anything he’d ask.

“Of course.”

You slipped under the covers facing him as his eyes closed. It didn’t matter if he’d fall asleep right away you’d stay right here just so he wouldn’t wake up alone. Just so he’d have some comfort.

You and Malcolm had met when you were children. It was after his father's arrest. He had isolated himself from the other kids at the park, and you couldn't have that. So, you marched right up to him and told him you would be his best friend, and that's been true ever since.

An hour or so had passed as you admired his relaxed features. It wasn't until you were both well into your twenties that you developed feelings for him. He had swung by to drop off a book he told you about and ended up staying for three hours—you had only seen him two days prior. Once he left, your mom came into the kitchen with this little smile on her face. You nearly spit out your drink when she asked when Malcolm would ask you on a date.

You laid in bed that night when it hit you. You liked Malcolm.

A whimper broke you from your thoughts.

Malcolm shifted, still asleep, and this time, a whispered "no" slipped through his lips.

You'd seen how bad his nightmares could get. You knew it was important you didn't startle him, but you weren't about to lay there and let him relive whatever horror he conjured.

Slowly, you wiggled closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Laying on your back, you brought his head onto your chest and smoothed his hair.

"Shh, it's okay. It's not real," you whispered.

As your fingers threaded through his hair, his whimpers slowly quieted, and he inhaled softly. It was a few moments before he spoke.

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes still shut. He didn't need to pretend with you. And he was grateful for it. 

“For what?” You had told him he didn't need to thank you for this. The first night you witnessed his night-terrors, he wouldn't stop apologizing. He couldn't even look you in the eye. But you reassured him, even told him about the nightmare that haunted you. It was then you both promised one another that if you needed the other person, you'd call and be there—it didn't matter when.

“For taking care of me. For staying with me so I wouldn’t be alone. For…For making me feel like…like I’m worth being cared for.” He blinked, hoping you couldn’t hear in his voice that he was fighting tears.

You swallowed and moved until you were facing him.

“You are worth everything.” You made it a point to keep your eyes locked. “You never have to thank me for prioritizing you. You’re my…You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.”

You were walking a dangerous line. He had been a profiler for fuck’s sake. It was a miracle he hadn’t figured out you loved him already.

“It’s just…I know-I know you’re always here for me and will always be,” he sniffled, “I just can’t wrap my mind around why you’d want to stay. I keep,” he shakily inhaled, “I keep waiting for the day you leave and never come back.”

Your eyes were wide the entire time he spoke.

How could he think about all those things? No. You knew exactly why.

And it didn’t matter how long it took to prove to him otherwise—you’d do it—happily.

You cupped his cheek so he couldn't hide.

“I know you’ve been through so much, more than anyone should have to go through, but those things don’t scare me. They never have. You’re stuck with me, Malcolm. Even when you want me to leave you alone—especially when you want me to leave you alone. I’m gonna be here, no matter what. I promise.”

Tears were streaming down his face now, and he didn’t care. Not when you soothed his every insecurity. Not when you looked at him like he was important to you. Not when all he wanted to do was reach out and hold you and tell you how he’d fallen in love with you for those very reasons.

His arm wound around your back and slid you toward him. His head buried itself in your neck as he shook with a fresh wave of tears. You held him, running a steady hand up and down his back.

“I’m right here.” You placed soft kisses on whatever skin you could reach. “I promise. I’m right here.”

He quieted slowly, his body relaxing into yours as he was left sniffling, but he never let go of you. He wanted nothing more than to stay like this for the rest of his life. He wanted to feel your warmth. He wanted your hand on his back to become his new heartbeat. He wanted to never be without you.

He ever so carefully pulled away just enough to meet your searching gaze. And before he could say a word, you did.

“I love you.” It was the only thing that could settle his fears for sure. Even if it backfired, it’d be worth it to reassure him. He would believe you and know he was worth everything to you, and if you embarrassed yourself, so be it.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, the barest of smiles gracing his face.

You let out a breathy laugh, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes. He loved you, too. He loved you, too.

Your best friend. The person you told everything to and the only one who seemed to understand you loved you.

“I’d kiss you, but I don’t want to get you sick,” he said, squeezing your fingers.

“I think that ship has sailed. We’re nearly on top of each other.” It didn’t matter if you got sick. You were too happy to care.

He smiled, the first one you saw all day.

“I want our first kiss to be special. And I can’t breathe too well right now. Pretty sure that would ruin it.”

“How about this then.” You leaned forward and kissed his forehead, staying there a few seconds to try and push all the love you had into his skin.

You settled back, and his eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted. You weren’t sure if his flushed cheeks had darkened or not.

“I hope I get better soon.” He said upon opening his eyes. 

You giggled, pulling him back onto your chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Always.”

[fansformentalydistroyedmen]

Last Names

A Malcolm Bright x Reader

Beans get spilled, whoops

Chapter 4, Liars

Life sucks, make a new friend and boom you lie to him. Now you are being blackmailed, how great is this. Maybe his mom is right, he doesn't need all my bullshit. I run my hands through my hair frustrated. Should I even try to fix this, he doesn’t want me not if he found out the truth. The truth about my parents, my past, and maybe even these hidden and suppressed feelings I get only around him. I groan and stand up walking to my kitchen. I grab a glass and start to get some water so I can start taking some of my pills. After dowing the glass I lay down trying desperately to fall asleep. After countless hours of tossing and turning I finally fell asleep. 

“Don’t be a wimp just pull the trigger!” 

“I told you she’s too weak to do it.”

“Pull it or I swear I will kill Samuel!” *Gun shot* 

I sit up fast panting, sweat dripping down my face. I rest my head on my wall slowly trying to steady my breath. After a couple minutes I checked my phone, to my sadness no case for right now. That's when I heard my doorbell ring, I groaned but got up to open it. To my shock Malcolm smiles and holds two cups of coffee up, how perfect. I open the door for him and smile.

“Hi, umm what are you doing?” I ask

“Well last night my mom definitely said something to you so I figured I make it up to you.”

“Oh wow that's so sweet.” I rub my face.

“Please come in.” I smile as he hands me the coffee, I 

might need something stronger if I am going to tell him. We walk over to my kitchen island and he sits down. 

“So what did my mom say, I’m really sorry by the way.” He says sympathetically.

“Umm I- Malcolm I need to tell you something.” I bite my lip.

“Are you ok?” He asked, concerned. I stand up and run my hands through my hair and he follows me as I start to pace.

“I am but you're gonna be really mad and you have every right to be and I am really sorry.” I take a deep breath and see him staring at me trying very hard to profile me. 

“Malcom my parents aren't dead, I lied. My parents are actually in jail, I am a Scott, as in Maggie and Lenoard Scott. The serial killers and experimental child abusers. I am so sorry for lying.” He just stares at me, gears turning.

“Please say something.” I plead. 

“ Why would you lie if you just found out I'm a Whitly?” He questions.

“ I was scared but then your mom told me that she would tell you if I didn’t stay away from you.” Tears now streaming heavy and hot down my face

“Did you lie about your brother as well?” He asks

“No not at all, he drowned, they killed him. “Are you mad?” he bites his lip like he’s thinking then he starts choking? Laughing? He's laughing! My eyes widened in horror and my mouth opened as I taste the salty tears. 

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry.” He says while laughing.

“What the actual hell is happening?” I yell as he continues to laugh.

“Did you really think I didn’t know you were lying?” He laughs

“I- yeah.” I say exasperated.

“Please you are a terrible liar and this is literally my job. I knew as soon as you told me they died.” He smirked.

“Why didn’t you tell me!” I yelled, still having tears running down my face.

“Well you did lie to me also I am genuinely sorry about my prying mother.”

“You jackass!” I smack him and walk off. He grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. My eyes widen as they meet his bright blue eyes. I swallow hard and wait for anything to happen, it would be so easy to just. No! 

“Y/N I’m sorry I didn’t think it through. I didn't think it would upset you.” He said sincerely.

“I thought I ruined the only relationship with someone who gets me I have ever had, so sorry I got emotional.” I said roughly.

“Y/N I’m sorry I shouldn't have.” I was having a hard time focusing since we were so close to each other I could hear his heart beats. 

“I mean… you forgave me, I think I can forgive you.” I continue to stare at his eyes, he slowly lifts his free hand and wipes the tears that were resting on my cheeks. This is wrong. I work with him, emotions are messy, he’ll leave me. I cough and pull away quickly and start walking away. 

“Breakfast?” I ask, walking over towards my stove.

“Uh sure.” He says following 

“What do you want?” I ask

“Umm, I mean I’m not sure I don’t eat breakfast a lot.” He laughs 

“Makes two of us.” I laugh while grabbing some eggs.

[make-me-imagine]

Locked In

13 Days of Halloween: Day 7

Plot: When you and Malcolm agree to help Jessica prepare for her Halloween party, the two of you end up getting locked in the creepy attic together.

Pairing: Malcolm Bright x Gn!reader

Warnings: None~ (except for a somewhat heated kiss towards the end)

Words: 2.5k

A/N: I saw the prompt 'Person A and Person B get locked in a creepy attic together on Halloween.' on a list by @olicitytropes and it inspired this; hope you don't mind me using it~

-

You looked around the large familiar house, noting the change in curtains and flowers to match the holiday, and Jessica's upcoming Halloween fundraiser party.

"Y/n, Malcolm! I'm glad you could make it!" Jessica said cheerfully as she met you and Malcolm in the foyer.

"I didn't think I had a choice." Malcolm said with light sarcasm.

"You didn't dear. But Y/n did." She said with a big smile as she looped her arm through yours "Which makes them my favorite, because they chose to come anyway."

You smiled at Malcolm over your shoulder and stuck your tongue out at him, as you walked further into the house. Malcolm shook his head in amusement as he followed.

"Ainsley is already here, which means she gets to come with me to the store. You two are on attic duty."

"Attic duty?" Malcolm asked, a change in his tone obvious.

"Yes, that's where the boxes of Halloween decorations are."

You looked up "I guess it makes since this place has an attic, I just never thought about it." You said softly before looking over at Malcolm.

"I never go in there, it's creepy." He said motioning is hands.

"Well you have no choice now." Ainsley said as she walked into the room. She met your eyes "Though I do feel bad for you having to go up there."

"Attics don't bother me as much as basements" You commented casually.

"Good! Don't worry, the attic isn't that creepy, Malcolm just doesn't like it because he got locked in there once when he was a kid. Tried to blame it on a ghost."

You looked over at Malcolm who nodded "The door closed by itself. And I was left in there for seven hours."

"Seven hours?" You asked with widened eyes.

He walked up to you, lowering his voice "No one can hear you scream up there."

Jessica smacked him on the arm before she looked over at you "It's fine, just make sure you keep the door propped open!"

"Right. Just keep the door propped open."

"Exactly!"

You looked over at Malcolm who just smiled and shook his head softly. Not long later, the two of you made your way upstairs as Jessica and Ainsley left the house.

"Do I even want to know how many boxes we're gonna have to drag all the way down here?"

"Probably not." He replied as you stopped beneath the attic stairwell.

Looking up the small darkened staircase at the red door, you hummed. "Never mind, that is very creepy."

Slowly making your way into the attic, you let out a small breath of relief as you looked around the fairly clean room. There was only one small, tinted window that let in very little light, leaving most of the room in darkness.

Malcolm pushed a small doorstop underneath the door before he turned to look into the attic. "Smaller than I remember."

"Most things are after you grow up." You commented softly as you flipped the light switch on.

The old light-bulb buzzed on, and sent a yellow-orange glow throughout the room.

Walking over to some boxes that had 'HALLOWEEN' written on it, you patted them.

"At least we don't have to search for them."

Malcolm walked over to the other side of the attic, and tapped some more "There are at least twenty in here"

"Its a big house."

"And she insists every room must have some form of decoration for her parties."

Picking up a mildly heavy box you turned towards Malcolm "I better get an invite if I have to do all this."

He smirked "You want to attend a Halloween party with a bunch of rich lawyers, accountants and white-collar criminals?"

You paused for a moment "Will there be food?"

He chuckled "Yeah, a lot."

You hummed as you left the attic "Might be worth it then."

-----

Letting out a sigh as you stomped back up the stairs into the attic for the fifth time, you looked at the dozen boxes still left.

"Never mind, invite or not, this is not worth it."

Malcolm stopped beside you as he nodded his head and let out a breath. Making your way back towards the boxes, you stopped as you heard a scratching sound. Looking at each other, you heard a loud creaking, you both recognized to be the sound of a door.

Your eyes widened in sync as you both spun around, to see the attic door quickly sliding closed.

You and Malcolm both rushed as fast as you could to catch it. But it slammed closed, just before you reached it. From the other side, you heard the doorstop bounce down the steps.

Malcolm grabbed the door handle, twisting and turning the knob as he pushed and pulled. As the door refused the budge, he looked back at you and shook his head.

You let out a sigh "Your mom and Ainsely wont be gone long right?"

"They went shopping. They could be gone for days." He said with a deafeated tone.

"Well, I know something you probably didn't have when you got locked in here the first time." He rose his brow as you reached into your pocket. "A phone."

Malcolm nodded his head in realization as he also took his out. You frowned as you read 'no signal'. Trying to use your data, but failing, you looked over a Malcolm. Meeting your gaze he shook his head.

"What is the attic made out of, layers of steal? Even my data isn't working."

Malcolm sighed as he walked over to the widow, trying to open it, before attempting to use his phone again. "Nothing. There must be something up here interfering with it."

"Great...so what do we do now?"

"We could talk about the fact that the door should not have closed, and that this is the second time that has happened!"

"I thought you didn't believe in ghosts?"

He lifted his arms up in defeat "Well I might now."

You let out a chuckle as you sat down on an old chair. "Or it's an old, heavy door Malcolm."

Malcolm shrugged his head as he walked over and sat down in the chair beside you. "Old door or ghosts, we're stuck."

You sighed and nodded your head. "Yup."

As an hour turned into two, and longer, you rifled through another box of decorations out of boredom, you pulled out a large fake spider. Turning it over, you saw a switch. Getting an idea, you glanced over at Malcolm, who was staring down at his phone, and set the spider on the ground. Silently, you switched it on, and watched as the large spider ran towards Malcolm.

Hearing the noise, Malcolm glanced over, letting out a yelp of surprise as he almost fell out of his chair.

As you began to laugh, Malcolm let out a deep breath and shook his head as he attempted to repress his own smile. "Very funny."

"Thank you, thank you." You said with a soft chuckle and fake bow.

Malcolm picked up the spider and turned it off, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure this is the same thing Ainsley used to put in my bed to scare me."

You grinned at this as you began looking through the box some more.

Suddenly hearing a loud bang on the opposite wall, you flinched, as your head snapped towards the sound. Glancing at Malcolm, who looked alarmed as well, turned to meet your gaze.

"Rat?" You asked.

He shrugged his head "Maybe."

Hearing a scraping sound, following by a thud, the two of you stared at the part of the attic engulfed in darkness.

Slowly, Malcolm made his way over, shining his phone into the darkness. You watched in anticipation as he reached behind a box before lifting up an old photo frame.

"Yeah, that's not creepy at all."

Setting it back down he began walking over to you, but stopped when the attic light flickered off.

There was an almost deafening silence for a moment before you stood up. Turning on his phone again, Malcolm walked to the light switch, flicking it up and down, but the light stayed out.

"That's just a creepy coincidence right?"

Walking back over to you, you could just see Malcolm's expression as he nodded "Yeah. Just a creepy coincidence."

As he stopped in front of you, a loud clattered bang came from the dark side of the attic again, as a box toppled over. Gasping as you gripped onto Malcolm's arm, you turned towards the noise.

Malcolm, quickly turning on his phones flashlight, shined the light at the box, and then around the attic.

"Okay. Maybe the attic is haunted." You said in a whisper.

"Told you." He whispered back.

Walking over to the box, you stayed latched onto his arm. Attempting to push the box with his foot, he shook his head "That's way to heavy for a rat to knock over."

You tugged on his arm "Let's go sit by the window where there's some light."

Malcolm glanced over at you, just now realizing how close you were. "Alright." He said softly as you made your way to the window.

You both sat down in your chairs, eyes darting around the attic, both of you expecting something else to happen.

"Talk." You mumbled.

Malcolm looked over at you "What?"

"Talk, so I don't freak out."

"Oh. Okay, uhm....the first year I was allowed to pick my own costume, I wanted to dress as Seymour Krelborn."

You paused for a moment "The guy from Little Shop of Horrors?"

"Yeah. And I tried to convince my parents to dress Ainsley as Audrey II"

"Audrey....the giant plant monster?"

"Yeah.."

You let out a soft chuckle "Did they?"

He nodded and smiled "My mom refused at first, but I finally got my way."

You smiled at him and shook your head as you peered around the attic, still weary. Malcolm continued to watch you.

The two of you were seated next to each other, knee's touching. You were no longer holding onto him out of fear, but your hands were close. He was tempted to take yours in his.

As a car horn sounded outside on the street, you flinched lightly, barely enough to notice. But he did.

"How is such a bad-ass cop so afraid right now?" He asked with a hint of amusement.

You looked over at him "I don't do ghosts. Ghosts aren't tangible like people, I can't shoot them if they're trying to hurt me."

Malcolm chuckled "I'll protect you from the ghost."

You rolled your eye's lightly "Oh yeah, how would you do that?"

"Well. I believe that if ghosts are real, they only have power you give them through being afraid and wanting, or expecting them to show their presence."

"Sooo, you're saying, if I'm not afraid or don't think about them being real, they can't hurt me?"

"Right."

"Well. It was you who put the idea of ghosts in the attic in my head in the first place. So, really, this is your fault?"

Malcolm paused for a moment as a slow smile crossed his face "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Well then, the least you can do is distract me so I stop being afraid."

Your eyes were locked with his, as you smiled, he smiled in return, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a split second.

Hearing a loud thud, you let out a soft gasp. But before you could turn your head to investigate the sound of the noise, you felt Malcolm's hands grasp your face, before his lips pressed against yours.

The kiss seemed eager and rushed, before it became soft and gentle, and then it was over.

As Malcolm pulled away from you, you met his eyes. You were clearly still bewildered, as you muttered out.

"Why did you do that?"

"I was distracting you."

"From the ghosts?"

"Yes."

Malcolm's hands were still on your face as he spoke softly. He had a faint smile on his lips, and he couldn't seem to stop his eyes from flicking to your lips again.

"Sorry. I should have asked first." He said softly as he pulled his hands away.

Your heart was racing, and your ears were burning hot. You shook your head lightly.

"It's okay. It worked, you distracted me." You laughed lightly. "And besides, I- I would have said yes, if you'd asked." Your voice got a little quieter as you spoke, your ears burning.

Malcolm repressed a grin "You would have?"

You nodded and met his eyes "Yeah."

Leaning in a little closer, his eyes fell to your lips briefly. "Then, can I kiss you again?"

You smiled softly as you leaned in a bit as well "Yeah."

Meeting in a soft kiss, Malcolm's hand cupped your face again as you brought your own hand up to his face as well.

Suddenly, hearing a rough bang, as the attic door shook violently, you and Malcolm pulled away from each other with alarmed gasps.

Another bang against the door was followed by the door swinging opening with a loud creaking groan.

Seeing Gil stumble into the room, having forced the door open with his shoulder, you and Malcolm stared at him in confusion.

"Gil?" Malcolm asked with breathy bewilderment.

He nodded at the two of you as he looked around the attic "Hey."

"Hi." You and Malcolm said in unison, as Jessica came into the attic as well.

"Oh thank God, are you two alright? Why didn't you answer any of my messages or calls."

You and Malcolm lifted your phones up a the same time as he spoke "No signal up here."

"Oh. Well, what happened to keeping the door propped open?"

"I'm guessing they tried." Ainsley's voice cold be heard as she appeared a moment later behind Jessica, doorstop in hand.

"Heavy door." You said, glancing at Malcolm briefly.

"Well, I'm glad you two are okay. Once we got back, I saw the boxes down stairs, I thought you two must have finished and gone somewhere, then I couldn't get a hold of you."

"So you called Gil."

"Yes." They said in unison.

"Well, now that that's all over-" Jessica turned and patted Gil's shoulder "You can finish helping with the boxes."

"Wait, what? I'm on duty Jessica, I'm not here-" His voice was perplexed as he began to follow her and Ainsley out, their voices fading as they left.

As the door began to close, you and Malcolm both rushed forward, grabbing it before you got locked in again. Your eyes locked as you smiled in amusement.

After closing the attic door lightly, you left together, heading down the stairs. Halfway down, Malcolm slipped his hand into yours, looking over at him, you shared knowing looks and smiles.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard three loud knocks on the attic door. Your eyes locked before you turned and looked back up the stairs at the closed door.

Malcolm squeezed your hand lightly before you both raced away as fast as you could, knowing neither of you were going back in that room.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @imaginesfire, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Prodigal Son/Malcolm Taglists: @spuffyfan394, @locke-writes, @malindacath, @cosplayingwitch, @starship-argo

Requested Taglist: @le-green-lion

[syven-siren]

Stay

Summary: When you have ties to the Whitly family, moving on from your past is not easily accomplished. Against your better judgment, you follow your heart and decide that no matter how much you get hurt, you will always stay for Malcolm. 

Warnings: Slight Angst / Comfort / Fluff

Word Count: 1472

Loud banging lures your attention away from the blueprints scattered across your dining table and the glass of Merlot in your hand. Huffing, you trudge to the door, wondering if it is your creepy neighbor who is all too intrusive. Instead, you are greeted with an equally unpleasant situation.

“Mrs. Whitly, what are you doing here? How’d you get into my building? How do you even know where I live?” You inquire as she barges into your home. There’s no stopping her once she sets her mind to something.

“Money can provide you with a lot of answers.” She announces with a gloating smirk. Of course, it is easy for her to get what she wants when she has a huge bankroll. “One of your lovely neighbors let me in. And I’m here because Malcolm needs you.”

“What could he possibly need from me?”

“I’m really worried about him. God only knows how long it’s been since he’s slept,” she informs you, pouring herself a drink, “And he’s insisting on seeing his father. I need you to convince him--”

“He left me, remember? You can’t keep barging into my life and expect me to help you with whatever plan you’ve concocted to control him.”

“That doesn’t mean he stopped loving you. And, it does not mean that you stopped loving him, my dear. Also, I’m not trying to control him. More like nudge him in the direction I know would benefit him the most.”

“That’s called controlling. I think it’s time for you to go. If Malcolm is having a real crisis the best person for him to talk to is his therapist, not me,” You hold the door open for her, “Thanks for stopping by though.”

On her way out, she makes a last effort to get your help, reiterating how much Malcolm still loves you. Swiftly closing the door behind her, you sigh and rest your forehead on the dark maple wood. Somehow you always get sucked back into something you want to be far removed from. The agonizing pain that you repressed for so long has come bubbling back to the surface. Naively, you thought you could keep it tamped down and wait for it to be extinguished. It was on a slow simmer for so long. With her unexpected visit, Jessica turned up the heat and now has your emotions boiling over. Hot tears cascade down your cheeks, falling to the floor below you. It has been a long time since you have cried over him. Letting out a shaky breath, you move to your liquor cabinet where a much stiffer drink awaits you.

.

.

.

Vzz

Vzzz

Vzz

The incessant buzz of your apartment intercom causes you to stir from your partially intoxicated slumber. Glancing at the hands of your wristwatch, you can just make out that it is a little after midnight.

“Mrs. Whitly is this your way of torturing me?! It’s not going to work,” you grumble into the intercom speaker.

“(Y/N)…”

“Malcolm? What are you-”

“Please, (Y/N).” His words are steeped in exhaustion and laced with desperation. Your heart clenches at how broken he sounds.

Taking a deep breath, you allow him access through the door and wait for him to make the short climb to your apartment. Seeing him in person is no better. You can feel the facade you’ve carefully crafted beginning to slip.

“You look good.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he steps inside. Looking around your apartment, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. For all his well-dressed style, his appearance is unkempt. Stress lines crease his forehead and his once ever-mischievous blue eyes seem dull and lifeless now. They are deep-set and dark shadowed skin lay beneath them.

“Yeah, well you look like shit.”

Your blunt response forces a hearty chuckle to pass through his lips. It’s as if you both have picked up where you left off. He follows behind you as you move about the kitchen, serving a glass of water for each of you.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

“A few days but you know me, I’m good with little to no sleep.”

“You can lie to everyone else, but you know I can see right through that bullshit. Why are you here?”  

There is a heavy exhale and long pause before you receive an answer. “You’re the only one that gets it. You’re the one that I feel safe around. The one that makes everything bearable.”

Your fingers dig into the patterned glass in your hand. You focus on the ache it brings, hoping it will override your desire to reach out to him. If you do that, you’ll never want to let go. You’ll fall right back into the comfortableness of being with him.  

“I love you.”

“Malcolm, don’t do this. You broke off our engagement. You don’t get to walk out of my life without an explanation, then come back and say these things.”

“I need to tell you this. I need you to know that what I did was to protect you.”

“From who? All the criminals you chased with the FBI? Your mother? Your father?”

“From me!” His voice is piercing, fierce almost. He takes a step towards you, but you don’t back down. You stand anchored in your spot. Malcolm’s more erratic nature had never scared you. Even though you are aware it has clearly escalated, it still doesn’t. It has always petrified him, making him do things that he thought would result in the least damage for those around him. You witnessed it your entire relationship, and in the end, you were an unwilling recipient of it.

“Who the hell said you get to make that decision on your own?! You think I’m scared of you? Far from it. Are you scared you’ll hurt me? Well good job at trying to protect me.” You hope your words get through to him. That your tone sheds light on how deeply he scored your heart with pain. “Did you expect me to move on that quickly? I love yo—loved you.”

It takes all but a second for his eyes to meet yours. There is something akin to recognition there, and the corners of his mouth flicker upwards as he tries to suppress a smile. You curse yourself for the mistake.

“Just wait here.” You retreat quickly to gather a spare pillow and blanket, leaving Malcolm to ponder your comments. You return to find him glancing over your designs. His fingers trace the delicate outline with the same softness that they used to caress the lines of your body. You shudder as the memories flood your mind.

“It’s a beautiful design. This is for the new museum downtown, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I received the commission. I still can’t believe they actually want me to develop such a prominent building.”

“You’re a talented architect. It was only a matter of time before everyone realized it.”  

“You always were a charmer.” He grins at your jest as you signal him towards the living room, “Here. You can sleep on the couch for tonight, but you need to go see someone who can help you tomorrow.”

A thick silence hangs in the air as you help him settle onto the couch. In a moment of weakness, you thread your fingers through his hair and smooth out his rebellious strands. The frown etched on his face wanes with each stroke of your hand. With a long-drawn sigh, the tension that pinches his brows together disappears. Malcolm’s ice blues become hidden behind sleep-laden lids, and you take this as a cue to retire to your own bed.

Though as you move to leave, his fingers coil around your wrist and prevent you from escaping. “Please, don’t go.”

The skin beneath his hand burns and the sensation spreads like wildfire up your arm, bringing with it a flaming need for closeness. You are caught between the rational portion of your brain and the longing that has seeped into your chest. As if weighted by a heavy chain, your body gives way when he tugs you gently. You recline against him, and your limbs instinctively tangle with his own.

“Things are different now. We are both different.” Your tongue feels heavy as you force the words out.

“But maybe we can start over...”

“I’m scared to fall for you again, Malcolm.”

“I know.” His arms wrap around you, securing you to his chest. “For now, just lay here with me, please. I won't ask for anything else. Just stay here with me.”

The closeness of him douses the flames that engulf your battered heart. For the briefest of moments, you allow yourself to relish in the feeling before you speak again, “I’ll stay. For you, I’ll always stay.”

Please comment, reblog, and like if you enjoyed. Feedback is always appreciated!

[majwrites]

Designer Shades Part 2

Summary: (Y/N) Bateman has to deal with the police more often than they'd like to.

Trigger warnings : rats (mentioned), murder and corpses (mentioned), kidnapping (mentioned), mental illness, self destructive behavior, suicidal tendencies, nightmares, Patrick Bateman (mentioned), interrogation room, being arrested

A/N: I wrote this at midnight and mashed it together with something that sat in my documents for at least 4 months already. Enjoy.

"Would you mind telling me what this is about, Lieutenant", (Y/N) wasn't used to interrogation rooms, but not a stranger to them either and this had to happen at some point.

"We're investigating the kidnapping and murder of three girls who all worked for an Escort service. I'd just like to ask you a few questions. Now, how old are you?"

"I'm 27", almost 28 though.

"Alright, where did you go to school?"

"Harvard. I graduated Harvard Business school too"

"Do you know a girl called Leslie Smith?"

"No"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes…but may I ask why I would have to be interviewed for this case? It has nothing to do with me", oh (Y/N), you know the answer.

"One of the girls was murdered with a chainsaw that got dropped onto her"

"And just because my father insists that almost 30 years ago he did that to Christie you think that I did the same now?", (Y/N) got progressively angry. They started to repeatedly hit their index finger against the wooden table at a rapid speed.

"It's a common procedure", Gil got a bit irritated by their reaction. (Y/N) 's leg was now rapidly bouncing too.

"Listen, (Y/N). It's a fact that you inherited many of your fathers traits and you have a criminal record", Gil had an empathetic look on his face.

"It's true, Lieutenant. I have a lot in common with my father. I experience horrible mood swings, anxiety, I see things that are not there, I get overwhelmed and angry, I thought about throwing myself into the Hudson more than once and I wear Ray-Bans. However I also have a lot in common with my mother and this includes that I'm definitely not a murderer", (Y/N) hated the way they got treated, they weren't a criminal just because they were mentally ill.

"Alright, would you mind telling me where you work these days? You left Pierce & Pierce quite some time ago", Gil wasn't done here.

--------

"Gil, I don't know what to tell you. I don't know why I'm here", (Y/N) was no stranger to interrogation rooms and right now they would rather be anywhere else. The only positive aspect of this situation was that Gil was the one interrogating them.

"You're here because you're a suspect. We're interrogating the case of Katie Sanders. She's been killed with a chainsaw and afterwards left in her closet with a rat. The rat has been used to get rid of the corpse", Gil layed out a photo of the crime scene on the table. (Y/N) stared at the photo and started drumming their fingers on the edge of the table: "What makes me a suspect? I don't know her and I'm sure one rat isn't enough to get rid of a whole corpse. There is no perfect way to get rid of a corpse, something is always going to be found and then someone will try to find the killer and eventually arrest them. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that. I'm very sorry that she has been murdered but I don't understand why I'm being accused".

"I'm going to be honest here, there is no real evidence for you being the murderer, but the scene looks like something that your father could have done and the crime happened near your living area", Gil looked at (Y/N) apologetically, but (Y/N) started to get uncomfortable and angry at the situation. They were going to miss their date with Ainsley, forgot their coat at Jean's place and the interrogation room didn't help either.

"You know what, I'm done with this. Just lock me up already. Hand me over to whoever you want. If I'm just an exact copy of my dad just lock me up already. Restrain me, mess me up with more meds or just stop treating me for my multiple disorders and wait until I end this myself. I'm done", it had been the third time that this had happened this year and (Y/N) had enough. "Look, I'm sorry that this keeps happening to you, but I have to follow every lead", Gil was just doing his job, but sometimes he really hated it.

"This is getting ridiculous and you know it. Why do people like torturing me like this. Gil, I tried to understand why people act like this towards me and at some point in my life I thought I deserved this, but I don't. My father is a serial killer. That doesn't mean that I'm one. I see things that aren't there, I get flashbacks and every light constantly blinds me. I wear sunglasses the whole day, even at night. I used to take drugs and I recovered. I have enough trauma that it might as well be enough for ten people and I'm neurotic and I can't sleep. All of this doesn't mean that I go around murdering people", (Y/N) stopped talking and started excessively scratching their arm. Gil proceeded to grab (Y/N)s hands but they retreated to sitting on their hand instead before Gil could reach them.

"I know you're not a murderer but for your own sake I need you to tell me what you did last Thursday night between 3 and 4 in the morning", Gil looked at (Y/N) like a teacher who begs their student to say a sentence at least so they don't have to mark down an F in the oral exam.

"I don't remember, but I was with Ainsley. You can ask her", Ainsley would confirm this and get (Y/N) out of here. "Alright, I'll ask her. Why don't you remember?", Gil knew the reason, but he wanted to be sure. "Some days I barely remember my own breakfast, it's very bold of you to assume I remember what I did while having an episode".

So Gil called Ainsley to the station. They sat down in Gils office and Gil got straight to the point: "Ainsley, I need you to confirm that (Y/N) was with you last Thursday night". "And once I did, will they be allowed to go home with me?", (Y/N) had been held in the interrogation room far too long for Ainsleys liking. "I promise you can take them home afterwards, but you need to explain what happened that night in detail", Gil mentally prepared for a long story already. "(Y/N) spent the entirety of Thursday and Friday with me. They were having a rough time".

This Thursday had been particularly exhausting. (Y/N) was stressed out and extremely cautious of their surroundings. Ainsley had picked them up from the office after work. They both sat down and watched Shutter Island while eating toast with cream cheese. Afterwards (Y/N) told Ainsley that sometimes they felt like society would treat them the exact same way they treated the main character. They knew that Ainsley understood what they meant. After the movie had finished they got ready for bed. Ainsley woke up again at midnight and stayed awake until 6 am because (Y/N) was shaking in their sleep. (Y/N) kept waking up from nightmares and by 8 am Ainsley left for work, not without letting (Y/N)s boss know that they were sick and wouldn't come to the office. She called Jean. Jean came to pick up (Y/N) at 8:30 am.

"So (Y/N) was in no condition to murder someone that night", Gil regretted his choice of words the second they had left his mouth. "(Y/N) was with me the entire night, I didn't take my eyes off of them in case they needed help. Can we please go home now?", Ainsley started to get impatient.

[queenbrightwhitly]

Trust You (Pt 3)

A/n: I didn’t expect the sudden motivation for this part.

20 minutes, exactly how long it had been since Malcolm said anything to you. Your throat was still in a lot of pain but it started to come back. 

Malcolm still hadn’t said a word. You knew why this was a big deal for him. He hadn’t planned for you to meet his father anytime soon, if he had it his way he probably would never have you meet him.

You watched as he took off his jacket and set it down on his metal bar stool. He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed as he looked down at the floor. His right hand was shaking. 

“Malco-”

“What did he say?” He got up and walked over to the couch. “Did you tell him anything?” 

“No, Gil and I-”

“Gil? so Gil took you to him? Why would Gil- Does Gil know?” Malcolm asked, walking back over to the barstool. You realized he had been pacing back and forth between the couch and the bar stool. 

“Malcolm, you were missing, Gil asked for my help and I said yes. I know you’re not happy about me meeting Martin, but I didn’t give him any indication of who I was other than a coworker.” You walked over to him, taking his hand you stopped him from moving. “As for Gil, I didn’t have to say anything, he already knew.” 

“What? How did he-”

“You’re so smart, but you’re not the best liar.”

Malcolm sighed, “I know my father is going to mention something about you, he’s too smart to believe Gil would just ask anyone for help.” 

You stood there for a second, thinking about what Cholete had said. 

“Ask him.” Her voice kept repeating in your head. You wanted to know for sure, even if it was just a thought. However, you had a feeling you already knew the answer. 

“Y/n?”

You jumped slightly; you hadn’t realized Malcolm had been trying to talk to you, or that he moved from your side to the fridge. 

“Huh? Sorry, what did you say?” You asked, trying to clear your head from the previous thoughts. 

“I asked if you were hungry; a few times actually... Are you..?”

“Hungry? Yep! Sounds good!” You put up a smile real fast. “I’m going to go wash up.” 

Before Malcolm had a chance to say anything else you speed walked to the bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind you. Taking a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you walked over to the sink and started washing your hands. 

You didn’t know why you couldn’t just ask him, why was being straight forward with him so difficult, why couldn’t you bring yourself to ask him. Maybe because Cholete had said it; so you had this belief that it was just a way for her to come between you and Malcolm. You knew how much she hated him, so why? Why did you suddenly doubt him? Why did you start to just go through everything Malcolm has done since coming on the team? 

Taking a breath you dried your hands, opening the door and walking back to the stool to sit down. You watched as Malcolm pulled a glass from the cabinet, filling it with water and bringing it over to you. 

“Here, the doctor says to take two of these twice a day. I know your throat hurts right now, so keep from saying too much.” He placed the water down along with the pills, leaning over he placed a kiss on your head. 

You watched as he made his way back to the fridge, swallowing the pills you suddenly got this boost of confidence. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” He responded, not bothering to turn around. 

“Did you know he would come?” you asked again.

“What?”

“Did you know John Walkins would come?” You asked again, a bit more aggressive then you meant to sound. 

Most likely due to your tone of voice, Malcolm turned around; shutting the fridge he walked over to stand across the counter from you. “What are you talking about? Is this why your stance was off and you-”

“Stop profiling me, and answer the damn question?!” 

Malcolm looked taken back, he didn’t answer right away; he looked to be thinking about what he was going to say next. “I’m sorry, I’m just confused as to where this is coming from?” Malcolm suddenly stopped himself, he then sighed deeply to what you thought might have been an annoyance. “Cholete, she said something to you. I knew it. There was absolutely no way she had any good intentions visiting you.”

“Malcolm, you didn’t answer my question.”

“No! How could I possibly be able to know if Walkins was going to come back to his childhood home? What did Cholete say to you to make you doubt me so much?” Malcolm crossed his arms again, he had walked closer to you. 

“It’s not like she had to try that hard..” You muttered to yourself. Malcolm however caught it. 

“Y/n...” Malcolm didn’t say anything else, he just looked a bit sad at that point. He walked closer to you, right by your side this time. 

“How many times Malcolm? How many times have you done something stupid while still knowing what the possible outcome might be? You might not have known for certain if he was going to be there, but what was the chance you thought about it, the chance you actually played it out, and gave yourself a percentage of him possibly showing up?”

Malcolm looked down, you knew he had an answer but didn’t wanna admit it. 

“Malcolm.”

“76%.” 

You stopped yourself, waiting for him to continue.

“I played it out, and I thought there was a 76% chance Walkins would come back.” Malcolm looked back to you wondering if that was what you wanted.

You scoffed. “The time you went after him and got your ribs crushed?”

“88%, but the percent of him actually killing me? That was below 50.” Malcolm said it so casually, it just made you more frustrated. 

“Do you do this every-time you find yourself in these situations?”

“More often than not. Sometimes with normal things too.”

“What about right now?” You asked.

Malcolm shook his head. “I didn’t this time since you caught me off guard. I didn’t predict we would be having this conversation. It’s like a hypothesis, I can’t tell the future Y/n.” 

“Okay, so why didn’t you tell me what you and that detective were up too?”

Malcolm stayed silent at this point, he still hesitated to answer. “You’re not going to like what I say.”

You rolled your eyes this time. “Malcolm just say it. You not telling me is only going to make me madder.”

Malcolm sighed. “I knew you would try to help and that you would come and find me.” 

You were confused now until it suddenly dawned on you. “You- you ignored me on purpose? When I texted and called you? You saw that I was contacting you?”

“I knew the common theme of not answering my phone would persuade your decision on coming to find me, instead you would go to my mother's dinner. If you believe that I was just doing my normal thing of forgetting to check my phone, your stress levels would be low and brain would automatically create an idea in your head that I was acting normal.” He leaned against the counter. “I needed to make sure I wasn’t giving you the motive to try and look for me.” 

You nodded, not looking Malcolm in the eye you stared at the floor, contemplating what you were going to do next. “You don’t trust me.”

“Don’t turn it into me not trusting you, Y/n please.” 

“Isn’t that what this is? You continue to risk your life, time, and time again. When does it stop Malcolm? When will you start to realize you don’t have to do this alone?”

“Nobody else can get hurt when I’m alone! Look what happened to the detective! He got killed! that could’ve been Gil, JT, Dani, or even you! Do you want that Y/n?” Malcolm was slowly losing his patience. 

“You’re right Malcolm, you can’t tell the future, which is exactly why you could never know if that will happen. You say you didn’t want me to find you. Why? to keep me safe? What about you?”

“That doesn’t matter-”

“It does matter! Think how Gil will feel if something happens? Your sister and mother? How I-”

“It doesn’t matter how you’ll feel!”

Your mouth shut quickly, you were taken back and a bit hurt, to be honest. You knew he has been through a lot this week. he was stressed, tired, and almost lost his family. However, you couldn’t help the expression on your face. 

Malcolm sighed, he closed his eyes realizing exactly what he said. “Y/n-”

“I know.” You got up from your seat, grab your coat you put it on.

“Y/n, please, don’t leave.”

You sighed, turning around you cupped his face, leaning in you kissed him. Instantly he responded wrapping his arms around you, gripping your waist he pulled you against him. 

You pulled back, looking up at him you leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead, then going down to place one on the side of his cheek. You stepped back, “I love you.” You told him as you shut the door behind you.

[shinebrightlikeamalcolm]

Headcanon: Trying for a baby with Malcolm would include:

a LOT of discussion before hand. Seriously, so much discussion and planning. You’re pretty sure some major historical events occurred with less planning

Making sure you’re both ready for this. It won’t be easy, and life will never be normal in the Bright and Whitly family.

Let’s all be honest, Malcolm’s not even ready for a normal meal, but he says he wants this with you. What else can you do but trust him?

Defending your choice as a pair to anyone who questions his ability to be a father. Because you know he will be a wonderful father, even if he often questions it himself.

Malcolm working out more, getting to therapy more, and adjusting his medication to see if perhaps he could be doing even better.

He’s really trying to be healthy, and trying to calm down. Stress has a huge impact on conception....and Malcolm has been a lifetime of stress.

“Is it weird that I’m talking to my childhood therapist, who’s known me since I was a kid, about our sex life?”

Wait he’s tracking your cycles now isn’t he? Yes, yes he is. Because that’s just the way Malcolm is, and it helps him to plan and prepare by keeping track.

“You know you’re ovulating right now...”

Trying for you both isn’t a chore. Baby making sex has been the best sex of your relationship. He’s very....determined. Yea, determined, that’s the word, and it makes for a mind blowing experience for you.

Malcolm is completely focused on your pleasure and comfort.

He’s profiling you ALL THE TIME. But it’s pretty adorable. It shows he cares, but also how much he wants this

The team being all up in your business. Seriously. All the time. It seems like an anomaly to them. Bright having kids? This should be good.

Forget that, it’s nothing compared to Jessica freakin’ Whitly

She’s ready to buy you guys a new house, she wants to furnish the nursery. Baby Dior? YUPP IT’S HAPPENING

“Dr. Whitly can never know.”

Hell, he doesn’t even know you two are married! If Malcolm ever sees him (which you absolutely disapprove of, even more so now) he never wears his wedding ring to keep your existence hidden. He can never ever know he will be a grandfather. This baby has to remain a secret from him.

Beyond that drama and, well, sheer terror of the fact that the Surgeon is going to be your child’s grandfather, you try to focus more on Jessica and Ainsley. Jessica is thrilled for a baby in the family and to be a grandmother. Ainsley cannot wait to be the cool aunt.

The team is going to be a big part of this kid’s life, and be the little one’s rest of the family.

Gil tries not to cry when you ask him to be the godfather.

Knowing if it takes a few months or more, that Malcolm will blame himself, mope and be upset. He doesn’t want to disappoint you.

You promise him he could never let you down

Good thing then that it happened quickly for you both! Malcolm’s shocked and a little shaken at the news, despite how much he wants this with you

Night terrors shifting time him being worried that he will hurt you or the baby.

Constantly reassuring him that he is nothing like Martin, and that he’s going to be the best dad.

Everyone teasing the hell out of him and how that didn’t take long at all. You kids wasted no time at all!

“We should probably get a bigger place?” “Or maybe just less sharp objects?” “Hey those are mostly antiques!”

The look on that man’s face when he sees the sonogram.....those blue eyes lighting up with pride and joy makes everything worth it. And you know everything will be ok.

“Baby Bright”

[myownwutheringheights]

I really loved your prodigal son Malcolm x reader fic! Can I request a jealous Malcolm x reader where she is a detective on Gil’s team too and a new rookie cop keeps hitting on reader and he is like wtf and Gil is like “kid your jealous” and he’s all surprised Pikachu face

Super excited for this one! I went for the humor here, and then total fluff. There is absolutely a call back to my first posted fanfic with Malcolm x reader, and as far as I’m concerned this is the same girl and how they ended up getting together. Part of it is completely inspired by T Swift’s Daylight. Here you go! 

“Since when do you grab lunch with the new kid?!” People were starting to stare now in the precinct as Malcolm’s voice rose. 

“Dude, you don’t have a leg to stand on, you’re STILL the new kid,” JT shot back, even though Bright hadn’t been speaking to him. 

“I can grab lunch with whoever I want, Malcolm. He’s new and I wanted to welcome him!” You shot back, perfectly capable of speaking up for yourself. Malcolm was being unreasonable. “O’Neil is part of the team, you accept that or…” 

“Or what? There’s something about him…the way he was talking to you. He winked, (y/n). Killers wink. Creepy bad guys wink! He pretty much asked you out, having just met you… and his eyebrow did a thing.” 

“His eyebrow did a thing? You learn that at Quantico?” You roll your eyes. He was being ridiculous. Yes, Malcolm had his quirks and he could be possessive over the team, but this was taking it to a new low. Besides, you had been flirting gently for MONTHS and the man had picked up nothing. And you had seen and knew the worst of him by now; night terrors, the restraints, the trembling and the panic attacks. And still, you wanted to try with him. You thought you could handle Malcolm Bright. But he was blowing it. “I’m allowed to date whoever I want, Bright.” He flinched as she used his last name, and not his first. 

“Yes I DID learn about eyebrow movement in Quantico!” 

“This conversation is ridiculous,” JT said under his breath, watching beside Dani who just nodded, her eyebrows lifted in shock at it all, and kept drinking her tea. 

“I’m telling you,” Malcolm continued, his voice more desperate “he’s no good for you. And his behavior…just don’t do it (y/n)” 

“How the hell do you know what’s good for me?” You knew the words stung. He barely knew what was good for himself. But you’d had it with Malcolm Bright. If he wouldn’t date you, he sure as hell wasn’t going to keep you from seeing other men. “He’s an internal transfer, not an evil mastermind! And don’t make up profiles. And why do you care anyway? I’m meeting him for drinks, and that’s it!” This had gone far beyond the realm of professional office banter. Everyone is staring now. Gil comes out of his office, and you announce you’re leaving for the day. it’s just after lunch but you don’t care, you’re taking the rest of the day. And you promise yourself you’re not going to cry over Malcolm again. You don’t even want to meet O’Neil for drinks, but maybe it would make the idiot wake up. 

“What just happened?” Dani said under her breath.

“Malcolm, my office, now.” Gil’s words were final and left no room for debate. 

“Dude, you’re jealous,” JT said sitting down at one of the conference table seats. 

“I’m not….I’m not jealous.” Malcolm defended, adjusting his jacket as he headed to Gil’s open door. 

“Totally jealous,” Dani repeated as she took a sip of her Earl Grey. 

“We need to have a chat,” Gil said as Malcolm reached the door. 

“Gotta have a father son talk?” JT said, not even thinking about it, but it was enough to make Malcolm lunge back at him. Gil caught his arm in time in a firm hold. Malcolm was on edge, breathing heavy, jaw clenched and jutted out, ready for a fight.

“He didn’t mean it. I’m incredibly close to having to fill out a report on you, and I’m not a fan of the paper work. Don’t make me have to do the paper work, Malcolm.” Gil’s grip tightened, and his words were firm, but yet somehow also kind, trying to get him to relax. “JT?” Gil prompted an apology. A bunch of kids, his team. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I’m sorry…you know I didn’t mean it that way. Honestly…I’m sorry.” JT’s apology rang true and Malcolm straightened himself up and nodded before making his way into the office. Gil closed the door. 

“Take a seat…Kid, you’re jealous.” 

“What? Why is everyone saying that? I’m not jealous, certainly not of O’Neil…and (y/n)? No. I’m not jealous.” Malcolm said sitting back in the chair the opposite side of Gil’s desk, crossing his right ankle to his left knee in a show of relaxed posture, but truly he was anything but relaxed. “Besides, we’re on the same team, it’s not like we could date….or….anything.” 

“You’re not technically NYPD, you’re a consultant. And neither one of you is the superior of the other in job distinction. So technically, there’s no rules being broken. I just think you are looking for an excuse not to ask (y/n) out.” Gil said sitting back and relaxing in his chair, feeling like this was going to take awhile. 

Malcolms eyes narrowed in confusion. “Are you…trying to help my love life?” 

“Professionally? No. Absolutely not. As a fellow concerned friend? It seems in desperate need of some help so yes, yes I am. Malcolm, she’s been in here before asking about relationships with team consultants. She’s basically walked in here and asked for my permission to see you outside of work.” Malcolm’s eyes went wide, and then his mouth opened. 

“She….(y/n) really did that?” Gil’s heart went out to the boy. He was a man who couldn’t imagine anyone wanting him. 

“Yes, she really did. You’re both good people. You both have seen some shit, to put it bluntly. She’s a strong person, I honestly think you don’t give her enough credit. If you just don’t feel the same way, it’s a different story, But if you do…” 

“No I…oh god, I am jealous.” He lifted his hands up to cover his face and he groaned. “Can I have some whisky?”

“Yes, yes you are. Very jealous. Causing a scene in the NYPD and nearly attacking a cop jealous. And it’s 1 in the afternoon, you may absolutely not.”  

“Fair point.” Malcolm ran his hands through his hair. “I really like her, Gil.”

“Shocker.” He retorted. 

“No, Gil…I….I really, like her.” He stopped there but he was leaning in more, and Gil could tell there was more he wanted to say. Gil rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, go get the whisky, it’s 5′clock somewhere. Just a little bit for both of us! If I lose my job over this it’s all on you.” Gil was the one to stand and he brought the drinks over, pouring about half an ounce for them both. Malcolm leaned back in the chair, and his eyes grew wistful, and he looked out the window a bit, and then back to his mentor. 

“Have you ever seen just…an amazing sunrise?” He began. Gil quirked an eyebrow. Oh where in hell was this going? 

“I’m a cop Malcolm, I’ve seen plenty.” Get to the point Malcolm, Gil prayed. 

“No, I mean…an amazing sunrise. Look, I hate them. It means I’ve gone through another night not sleeping. It means I have to get up and struggle through another day. The light gets too bright, and the city can get too loud. But I mean…an incredible sunrise.” He paused, collected his thoughts for a moment. Took a sip. Continued. “It was right after I got back to New York. I was still staying with my mother. I got up about an hour before dawn…couldn’t sleep. Tossing, turning…the whole thing. I’d hit myself because my restraint bed wasn’t finished yet. I was in pain, tired…I went to Central Park. It was closed but…anyway. I walked around. The temperature was perfect, the leaves were just starting to change. It was quiet. I got to one of the small bridges and the sun started to come up. And I don’t know what made be stay but I did, and I just watched it…and it wasn’t too bright, or too harsh. The colors were really soft. Pastels. A painter would have really liked it. It was beautiful…and there was something…” he grasped for the right word, “gentle about it. It was soothing somehow. There were some birds there and they woke up with the sun and it…it felt healing. People say a sunrise means a new beginning, and I never believed that garbage till that morning. That morning felt like something special. I know, that all sounds crazy weird, and I don’t even really know why it came to me it’s just that….(y/n) feels like that for me. She’s like daylight….” He took a deep breath as he finished and Gil just gazed back at him. 

“Get out of my office right now, and go ask (y/n) out. That’s a direct order.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Malcolm got up and pretty much ran out of the precinct, tripping over almost  everyone, and leaving the rest of his whisky on the desk. Gil picked it up and chuckled to himself as he sat back at the desk. He lifted the glass to those two crazy kids, and he silently wished them luck. 

[sayhitoforever]

Burn Season - Malcolm Bright x Reader - (1/?)

For Fictober because this show is my new problem. Let me know if you like it??

PT 2 , PT 3, PT 4, PT 5

Malcolm Bright x Reader

Burn Season

Malcolm stepped over the carbonized remains of a warehouse door, holding the cordon aside as he slipped onto the scene. Ahead, huddled under the charred, skeletal remains of the actual warehouse were Dani, Gil, and JT. Rays of the setting sun were filtering in through the steel bones of the infrastructure that still stood, too strong to be broken by a fire. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of ash, as soft looking as a fresh snow. Already his dress shoes were dusted grey and he sighed in defeat as he put his heel into a particularly deep pocket of ash. He hadn't seen anything worth profiling as of yet, especially with no body to start with. The air stank of wet smoke, the cloyingly bitter smell of burnt metal and damp wood, and Malcolm wrinkled his nose as he reached the three cops.

"We're all getting tested for mesothelioma after this, right?" Malcolm quipped, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. Gil turned at the sound of his voice, but he didn't smile at Malcolm's twisted joke. The grim expression he wore stopped Malcolm from making another joke, especially as he stepped aside to reveal the bodies. At least, what was left of them. Three of them, their skeletons propped teeteringly in chairs which had burned down to their metal frames.

"That's brutal," Malcolm breathed, sniffing lightly at the air only to marvel at the fact that the bodies had been charred so badly that they didn't even wreak of burnt flesh. He circled them, eyes sharp.

"Edrisa is on her way, stuck in traffic, but the only thing we're going to get off these three is from their dental records," Gil grumbled.

"There's not much to work from here, I'm afraid. Though, I feel it goes without saying that whoever did this was probably feeling a measureless rage." Malcolm squatted down and stared at the way all six arms were folded behind the chairs they sat in, at the bits of burned rope that still clung to what was left of their wrists.

"Well," Gil sighed, running a hand tiredly down his face. "I've called in a favor for this one."

Malcolm looked up precisely in time to see both Dani and JT perk up. "A favor?" Malcolm asked hesitantly.

"Is she-" Dani began excitedly.

"I thought she was in Dordrecht doing-" JT tried to say.

Gil held up and hand to the two of them. "Yes, a favor. A former NAFI arson expert, since a scene of this scale is a little above our pay grade. She can't stay long though," Gil said and even Malcolm caught the slight dejected nature of his tone. Malcolm opened his mouth to ask just how all three of them knew an arson investigator when a voice called out across the dilapidated space.

"What, all work and no social calls?" In a long-sleeved, high-necked black dress that shimmered like an oil slick, a woman picked her way across the field of ash towards the four.

"Dani, darling, did you hear about 2 Dive 4, the new tapas bar in Long Island? You and I gotta go, it's ridiculous how good it is," Y/N kissed the tips of her fingers and Dani's face lit up as she moved in for a hug.

"I haven't yet. Your treat?" Dani joked but Y/N shot her a thumbs up as she maneuvered her way to JT.

"Hey, Justin Timberlake, a little birdy gave me a gift last week and you're the only one I thought of..."

Malcolm watched with sharp eyes as the Arson Investigator bounced from one colleague to another, studied the excruciatingly subtle way her body language changed, the flex of her jaw muscles as she gave JT a smile altogether different from the one she gave Dani. He watched as she reached into her bag and produced an unripped ticket stub for something and JT's face brightened as if all his Christmases has come at once and Y/N mimed tightening a bow tie at his neck with a laugh.

Even Gil was looking at her a little expectantly as she made her way full circle. "You know I would never forget about you, Gilly," Y/N crooned as she pulled a cylindrical container from her bag and handed it over. Gil's grin radiated warmth as he accepted it and Malcolm spotted some writing on the label that looked distinctly Dutch. A different smile, a different tone, a shift in the way she stood.

"I don't believe we've met before," Malcolm finally interrupted the reunion, extending his hand out to the woman.

She faced him and Malcolm tried not to let anything he was feeling show on his face. But she was the blank slate of the two of them, with a charming smile that couldn't be confused by Gil as being anything less than friendly. Her eyes were bright, and they didn't stray from Malcolm's face as she reached to grasp his outstretched hand. A firm grasp, she shook it thrice before releasing it.

"You must be the profiler," she stated, gaze still unwavering.

"How did-" Malcolm began, eyebrows shooting up.

"It's all in the eyes," she answered with the same, even smile. "Y/N L/N, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Malcolm Bright, the pleasure is all mine," he murmured, aware that he was staring.

Y/N pushed at the cuff of Gil's shirt to expose his watch. "I've got an hour and a half before I need to be somewhere," she said, gesturing at her gown. "And we're losing the daylight, so let's take a walk." Without further prompting and with only a glance at the three burned bodies, she meandered off in the direction of the remaining rubble of the warehouse.

"She's a chameleon," Malcolm exclaimed, eyes darting between his colleagues excitedly.

"She's got skin, not scales, Bright. You need a nap or something?" JT eyed him up and down the way he always did, trying to decide if Malcolm's usefulness outweighed the crazy he brought to every investigation.

"No, a social chameleon. One moment she was talking with Dani about some bar, the next she's flashing opera tickets at you that you made cow eyes at. It's so, so good, so careful, so cultivated, best I've ever seen. She's a different person to each one of you."

"What?" Dani said, expression growing defensive. "She knows us. We've all worked together before."

"Yes, but-" Malcolm began, cutting himself off as Dani turned her attention to Gil as he motioned for her and JT tsked as he patted Malcolm on the shoulder.

"Maybe you should try expanding your social circle, buddy. Y/N just gets along with everyone," he said before following after Y/N.

Malcolm stared after her, eyes wide, unable to pin down why she seemed so familiar. "No one gets along with everyone."

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Study Bunny (Prodigal Son One-Shot)

Martin Whitly x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: You ride Martin's thigh.

CW: daddy kink, medical talk, possessive behaviour(ish)

Prodigal Son: @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Martin was far too perceptive for his own good, you thought. He always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking even before you did. It was a little uncanny, to be completely honest. If this was the twenty-four hundreds or something, you would have been concerned that he’d implanted thought reader chips in your head or something. 

“Oh, my dear,” he’d said one day when you’d questioned him about his ability to know what you were thinking- not about the chips. “I’m just exceptionally good at reading people.” 

You weren’t really sure whether it was people in general, or just you. He did spend an awful lot of time with you, after all. It made sense he’d get used to you enough to read your face. 

Anyway, you were thinking about all this while perched in his lap in his study. Martin was peering over some anatomical diagrams in preparation for a surgery he had in the morning. You’d been planning to leave him alone to his study, but you had found yourself in his lap somehow anyway. That sort of thing had a tendency to happen, you’d noticed. 

What could you say? Martin was a convincing man. And quite cuddly. How could one resist such temptation? 

“Dear, you’re staring again,” Martin commented without looking at you. You blinked twice, clearing your brain from the fog that had been seeping through the corners. 

“Was I? Sorry,” you replied sheepishly, dropping your head onto his shoulder. Martin chuckled, and you saw his cheek muscles move with his smile. He sighed and put the paper down on the desk. He turned his attention towards you and placed both his hands on your hips. 

Your breath hitched ever so slightly, and the sharpening of Martin’s gaze let you know that he did not fail to notice it either. 

“Mm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting. You know, I’ve noticed you tend to have heightened feelings of arousal and hormone spiking around the mid-month mark.” 

You blinked. Did you? 

“Yes, my dear. Interesting, I know.” 

You felt his fingertips press a little harder into your hips, and the resulting whimper it pulled out of you was as embarrassing as it was telling. Martin chuckled- a wolf’s grin on his lips, and dragged your hips just slightly against his thigh. 

You bit your lip, taking the initiative and rocking yourself ever-so-slightly against his thigh. Martin grinned wider if that were possible, and leaned back in his chair so he could appreciate the sight in front of him. 

You rolled your hips harder, delighting in the jolt of pleasure ricocheting up your spine. Martin let out what could only be a possessive growl and pushed his knee up for you to rut against. 

“That’s it. Fuck, my love. Stunning,” he grunted, voice like gravel. “Watching you fuck yourself on my thigh like this? Fucking gorgeous, my dear.” 

You whimpered, pleasure shooting up your nerve endings and setting you alight. Your muscles were aching with strain, but the pleasure far outweighed the delicious stretch and burn. 

Martin started bouncing his knee, sending jolts of pleasure into the mix, giving you a different sensation to take your ecstasy from. 

“Mm, maybe I’ll have to conduct a little study on you- when do you reach your hormonal cycles? How do we measure when they’ll be coming up?” Martin leaned in to whisper darkly in your ear, saying, “when are you most pathetic for my cock? Hmm? Yes, I know, dear. Pathetic little thing just wants to cum.” 

You were getting close now, having him speak to you like this and with his hands on your hips rocking you against him- you would never have lasted long, anyway.

“Would you like that? Daddy’s little study bunny? Oh, look at you. Yes, I know,” he growled possessively, eyeing you hungrily, all thoughts of his upcoming surgery forgotten. “Fucking cum for me, my love.” 

And cum you did, whimpering and moaning as your hips jerked against him erratically, releasing with such vigour that your whole body shook atop him- much to his delight. 

“That’s it. Oh, my good little dove.” 

You panted, dropping your head back onto his shoulder and letting out a giggle as the endorphins flooded your system. 

“Fuck, I love you,” you panted. 

“I love you, too, my dear,” Martin replied, pressing a soft kiss to your sweaty forehead and turning back to pick his papers back up. 

“I’ll just finish these notes and we can retire for the night,” he said, already losing himself in the papers. You nodded, yawning tiredly. 

“Sounds good to me, beloved.”

[noforkingclue]

By Any Means Chapter 11 (Malcolm Bright x reader)

Prodigal Son tag list: @queenoffandom08, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

“Ah Malcolm what a pleasant surprise and y/n,” Jessica raised her eyebrows and smiled, “Good to see you again. And in daylight no less. Finally came over for that drink?”

Malcolm looked at you with a raised eyebrow and you just shook your head. He might’ve known about you breaking into his mother’s home but he didn’t need to know about that conversation. Malcolm gave you a look that told you that the subject hadn’t been forgotten and you looked at Jessica.

“Mrs Whitly-“

“Jessica, please.”

“Jessica,” you said, “This is important. We have something we need to ask.”

“To ask,” Jessica raised her eyebrows and smirked as she sat down on a sofa, “Must be important if you managed to drag Malcolm away from his work for a social call.”

“Social call?” you frowned, “Mrs- Jessica, this isn’t a social call.”

“Oh,” you felt bad about the way she deflated, “Work.”

“Sorry mother but this really is important.”

Jessica sighed and folded her arms, disappointed written all over her face. She glanced between you and Malcolm and you couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed. You coughed as you felt the heat creep up your neck but you said,

“Charity auctions.”

“Charity auctions,” Jessica frowned, “What do they have to do with anything.”

“When I first met Malcom, and yourself.” You added quickly

“Oh yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Did you see anyone hang around Joseph?” you asked

“Well,” Jessica frowned in concentration, “There were a lot of people around him, including myself.”

“But anyone that sticks out in particular?” you said

“Not really, oh it was a long time ago. What is this about?”

“It’s… complicated.” Said Malcolm

“Oh,” Jessica gave him a look that was a mixture of disappointed and knowing, “Another murder.”

“Just one.” You said

“And you dragged poor y/n into your investigation.” Said Jessica

“Well I didn’t really have much of a choice.” Malcolm said

“And I’m determined to prove that I’m not a murderer,“ you said, “And all if this seems to link back to Joseph.”

You sighed and ran a hand over your face. Once again you found yourself missing your old mentor. There was so much he hadn’t taught you. You had learnt so much from him in such a short time. Times spent in the classroom, just you, him and Richard. Evenings down the pub, just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. And yet, the more this case went on the less you seemed to know about him.

“- another auction.”

“Huh?”

You were dragged out of your thoughts and blinked at Jessica. Malcolm was pacing and Jessica said,

“I was just saying that it was funny that you brought this up now. Another auction is taking place soon."

“Another one,” you turned to face Malcolm, “We have to go.”

“We?” Jessica smiled at the word

“And the NYPD,” you said, exasperated, “Purely undercover.”

“Oh I’m sure.”

You didn’t like the look on Jessica’s face and you felt your face get hot.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Malcolm

“Good idea as any.” you jumped to your feet

“And I’m sure I can get you in.” said Jessica

“When is it?” you asked

“Oh,” Jessica pursed her lips and looked away, “Day after tomorrow. Plenty of time to find something to wear. Got to blend in.”

 *

 Wherever you go, make sure you blend in.

 Wise words that Joseph told in the early days. You still remember him taking you and Richard shopping to get suitable clothing for these sorts of events. You pulled the long black dress out of the closet and held it up to yourself as you admired yourself in the mirror. You had almost forget about this and you didn’t have the heart to get rid of it.

It was one of the most expensive items of clothing you owned and Joseph did buy it for you. You wondered if it still fit and you secretly hoped that it did. You hated going for shopping, especially for these types of clothes. Shop attendants always made you feel unwelcome.

Oh well, the show must go on.

[fancycakedragon]

Fictober 15/31

Thanksgiving– "That's what I'm talking about."

Malcolm Whitly x Reader

Warning(s): swearing

A/N: I've missed a bunch of fictober days but I'm back baby! Also this is the closest thing to romance with Malcolm I've written so far.

Masterlist

When you'd offered to host Thanksgiving dinner Malcolm had warned you. His mother was a perfectionist who usually had control over a professional cooking staff every year. Anything you did wasn't going to live up to her expectations. It was the sad and honest truth Malcolm felt you needed to know before facing his mother. 

But you were determined to make this Thanksgiving dinner great, or at the very least acceptable. You were the longest relationship Malcolm had been in so far but you knew Jessica didn't like you. All you wanted was an understanding between you and his mother. Another thing he told you was going to be difficult to attain. 

Everyone was supposed to arrive by 4 in the evening yet here was Jessica parading in your kitchen a two hours early.

"This is ridiculous when do you expect to even be finished with the rolls?" she asked as you were busy cooking.

"I like to bake them towards the end so they're fresh out of the oven," you answered. You just had to keep calm until Malcolm was back. She continued to criticize everything you were doing until you could feel your patience wearing thin. When she'd run out of things to point out you were happy to have a moment of peace.

Jessica roamed your kitchen sipping on her scotch when her eyes landed on the one of the pies you'd left of the counter to cool. Before you could react she grabbed a fork and took out a piece taking a bite. 

"What the hell, Jessica?!" you exclaimed leaving you potatoes in favor of protecting your pies.

She rolled her eyes as she chewed taking her time, "It's Mrs. Whitly and this is hardly something to get worked up about. It tastes nothing like what would be served in my house."

You tried to take a deep breathe but it was no use. Your breathing was becoming erratic and the anger inside you was bubbling up. In a moment of desperation you stormed out of the apartment running into Malcolm who'd been making a last minute run to the grocery store.

"Whoa! Hey, what's wrong?" he asked his concern for you taking over.

You looked at him agitated, "I can't deal with your mother, Malcolm! She's purposefuly being terrible just because she can. She, she—"

"What did she do?"

"She stuck a fork in the fucking middle of my pie and took a bite. She ruined it! And then she said it was bad. The family recipe that's been in my family for generations, that's won countless awards in contests and she just shits on it!" You began rambling getting lost in your anger, "You know that was the only thing I was looking foward to? All I wanted to do after everyone was gone was sit down with my pie, and whatever alcohol was left and eat til I couldn't anymore!"

"Scream," Malcolm said simply.

You narrowed you eyes in confusion, "What?"

"Screaming when you're angry is a great stress reliever. It tires you out and tells your brain that the danger has passed allowing you calm down," he explained taking his scarf and folding it neatly then handing it to you. "Try it out."

You sighed, what did you have to lose at this point. You pressed the fabric against your face and took a breathe inhaling the scent you had come to link with Malcolm. The primal scream you let out was partially absorbed by the scarf. Once you were done you felt a little better as Malcolm encouraged you.

"That's what I'm talking about! Why don't I go kick her out."

You chuckled, "I didn't think I'd ever say this but I'd appreciate that. I need to cool down for a bit though then I'll be back up."

Malcolm nodded taking the tote bags up with him. You came back after a bitter Mrs. Whitly brushed past you on her way out. Taking a peek at your pie you saw another bite taken out of it. Knowing it wasn't Malcolm a smile creeped onto your face, she'd never admit it but you knew.

-----

Requests are open.

[prodigal-imagines]

White Wedding - Malcolm Whitly/Bright -

I made a part 2!

Slovesmalcombrightwhitly asked: Can you do a imagine about the reader and Malcolm (prodigal son) getting married! Super cute fluff please I need it lol

Imagine: You and Malcolm get married

Malcolm was nervous. His hands were shaking, but for the first time he didn't try to stop the tremors. He was practically vibrating in his skin; if anyone looked close enough they could probably see it. He was excited. In a short amount of time, he would be marrying the love of his life, his soul mate, his other half, his better half, y/n.

His mother stands beside him, the pair observing themselves in the full length mirror in front of them. Jessica fusses with Malcolm's tie, eager for it to be perfect. She's just as excited as Malcolm is, if not more. She had fell in love with you before she even met you. When the pair had started dating, Malcolm had started getting better.

He wasn't fixed by any means, but he was sleeping longer. Having you in his bed made him feel safe, and was sleeping six to seven hours a night. Jessica saw an immediate change in his demeanor, his bags suddenly not so dark, his smile suddenly reaching his eyes.

Then he told her he found someone, and he was falling for them fast, and at first it scared him. He had never been so fast to fall for someone, because he was always so alone, but with you it was different. You were different. You understood him, and listened to his rambled completely, even asking questions while he was talking. You astounded him and even now thinking about you, his heart skips a beat and his breathing hitches. He still can't wrap his head around the fact someone as flawless as you wants to marry someone like him.

Jessica rests a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him softly in the mirror. She's swaying a little bit, and Malcolm can smell the wine on her. He smiles back, one that reaches his eyes, one that creating lines on his face, one he has to clench his teeth to from being so excited.

"it's time, Malcolm" his mother breaks the silence of the room, almost too loud to him. He's too excited to care. "Are you ready?" He, without hesitation, nods his head, rolling his shoulders back and standing up even straighter. In this moment, he can see how much he looks like his mother, and takes a brief moment to appreciate her being here with him, knowing Gil is waiting for him at the alter, his best man.

"I was born for this" he replies, taking a deep breath and calming himself down. In a couple of hours he will be dancing with the love of his life, y/n Whitly. He had practically begged you not to take Whitly when you two wed. He wanted to take your name, to rid himself of the family name once and for all.

But you disagreed. "you're a Whitly" you had replied, and kept talking when Malcolm opened his mouth to object. "You're also a Bright, but you are a Whitly. You are not your father, but you are your father's son. I was adopted. I'm not a y/l/n. I never was. But, I am a Whitly. I finally found a family where I belong. I want to show that off to the world."

Malcolm was too busy seeing figurative heart's at your speech to argue. So he pulled you close, buried his face in the crook of your neck, and spent the next six hours listing everything he loved about you.

Jessica takes his hand into hers, and he looks up to see her eyes shiny with unfallen tears, pride and happiness radiating off of her. "I am so happy for you." She smiles, pulling him into a hug. "You and y/n are everything Martin and I wasn't." She adds, "you two are perfect for each other."

Malcolm pulls back and he takes another deep breath. "let's go," he says. "I don't want to keep everyone waiting".

- should I do a part two from y/n's perspective? Send in more requests! -