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writethrough · 1 year

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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.”

#prodigal son #prodigal son imagine #prodigal son fanfiction #prodigal son fanfic #prodigal son fluff #Malcolm bright x reader #Malcolm bright x gender neutral reader #Malcolm bright fluff #Malcolm bright x you #Malcolm bright x y/n #Malcolm bright imagine #Malcolm bright oneshot

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bi-bard · 1 year

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shout out to tumblr. for flagging one of my Malcolm Bright gif imagines from 2020 for... sexual themes...

what?

anyway, it was a gif imagine about Malcolm hallucinating and then getting hot chocolate after because I was 17 and was trying to show my fav some comfort.

#imagine #fanfiction #x reader #malcolm bright x reader #malcolm bright imagine #malcolm bright fanfiction #prodigal son x reader #prodigal son imagine #prodigal son fanfiction

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incorrectprodigalsonquotes · 1 year

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That feeling when you have all the plot points to your fic done but you can't post the fic updates because you have yet to connect the plot points 😭

#carved in the cradle #yes it actually will be finished #if anyone is still interested #should I post a sneak peek?#prodigal son fanfic #prodigal son fanfiction #prodigal son #malcolm bright #dani powell #brightwell #it's a brightwell fic #with a case and overarching story to wrap up ther series in my head in the background

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 1 year

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Jail Visit- Malcolm Bright x OC

Malcolm Bright x Elena Nadis

Description: There’s a break in the case that requires Malcolm’s attention, but he’s visiting his father. Elena offers to go get him, and it leads to feelings being shared afterwards.

Word Count: 2.4k

“Gil, I think we got a break in the case,” JT informed the captain as he and Dani walked inside. The man in question, along with Elena, turned away from the whiteboard they had been standing in front of and looked at the detectives.

“Well? What is it?” Gil questioned when neither of them spoke at first.

“Edrisa finally got the tox screens back from the coroner,” Dani started, holding up the files. Gil and Elena glanced at each other then looked over the papers.

“Heavy traces of liquidized cocaine found in all of the victims,” Elena mumbled aloud, making the connection immediately.

“An almost lethal amount,” Dani added, crossing her arms.

“Based on the coroner’s report, this isn’t the first time they’ve had drugs in their system,” JT continued. “We think that the connection between the vics is drugs.”

“Maybe that’s why they’re all divorced,” Elena suggested, looking around at her team. “Their spouses couldn’t deal with the drug abuse so they called it quits.”

“Maybe,” Gil repeated. “Just to be sure, Dani, JT, you go visit Ms. Knox, I’ll take Mr. Rohme. Elena, you and Malcolm go to Ms. Willis’ house and see if she knew about her ex-husbands hobbies,” he instructed before looking around. “Where is Malcolm by the way?” Elena shrugged, but Dani seemed to have an answer.

“Went to Claremont to visit his dad last I heard,” she responded. “More than likely he’s still there.” Gil sighed then shook his head. They were all thinking the same thing: that is the absolute last place he should be right now.

“I’ll just get him on my way to the Willis house,” Elena offered, resting a hand on Gil’s shoulder. He shot her a thankful look then told everyone to go.

The ride to Claremont Psychiatric Hospital was pretty short in Elena’s opinion. She was at the hospital within half an hour and walking inside. She greeted Mr. David, the security guard that usually stood outside of Martin Whitly’s room, who informed her that Malcolm was indeed there talking to his father. She offered him a quick thanks when he opened the door for her then stepped inside. Immediately the men’s conversation ceased and they were looking at her, Malcolm with shock and Martin with curiosity.

“Sorry to interrupt you two,” she started slowly, trying not to show much emotion in front of the serial killer. She didn’t get to finish her thought before Martin stood, still staring at her with the same look.

“Oh, you’re not interrupting anything, my dear,” he responded kindly. “We were just having a chat. Dr. Martin Whitly,” he held out one of his handcuffed hands, though it couldn’t go far without the other one of course. Every instinct inside Elena told her not to shake his hand. She remembered Malcolm telling her that on the very slim chance that she ever met Martin Whitly, do not engage in conversation for long with him, he’s a manipulator that’s been trying to break Malcolm since he was arrested. However, she figured that the best way to get Malcolm out of there quickly and efficiently was to just play along until either of them sensed manipulation. So, she shook his hand with a polite smile.

“Elena Nadis,” she introduced herself.

“She works with me,” Malcolm added before Martin could even begin to suggest otherwise. The man raised his eyebrows and hummed thoughtfully.

“Ah, another detective. How nice,” he grinned as their hands dropped. “Well please, have a seat. We were just discussing your latest case.” Elena furrowed her brows, then looked at Malcolm to see what he wanted to do. The man shrugged then gestured to the seat beside him.

“Go ahead,” he muttered.

“Do you know anything about the killer?” She inquired, sitting down.

“We’ve been sharing theories,” Martin explained, eyes shining. “It’s obvious that your killer is unorganized. They seem like blitz attacks simply because they frequent the same coffee shop.” Elena pursed her lips, wanting to laugh at how proud the man looked about his conclusion.

“Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know,” Martin corrected her.

“Well, it seems that your skills and understanding as a serial killer are a bit rusty, because that’s not their connection,” she said simply, crossing her arms.

“What?” He questioned, shocked by her response.

“That’s not their connection,” Elena repeated slowly so he could understand. “I guess your years at Claremont are blinding your serial killer skills.” She nearly jumped out of her seat when Martin slammed his hands on the desk that sat between them.

“Do not call me dumb,” he hissed.

“I didn’t-“

“I didn’t spend almost five years studying human anatomy and another eight making sure I knew everything just for some cop to tell me that I don’t understand three identical deaths,” Martins continued. “I won’t have it!” He stood abruptly then slammed his hands on the table again, which made Malcolm and Elena shoot up.

“Alright that’s enough,” Malcolm snapped, pushing the girl behind him to put distance between her and Martin. The men had a small showdown before straightening out his jacket.

“I think we’re done here,” he continued, much calmer now. “Come on Elena.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before he began leading her out.

“No, come on Malcolm,” Martin pleaded, also calm now as he began following them, but was stopped by Mr. David. Malcolm refused to look back as they left the building, so Elena took that as her cue to do the same. They only stopped once they were by her car.

“Are you okay?” Malcolm questioned seriously, looking her over. Elena was surprised by his question, but nodded quickly.

“Yeah, he just surprised me,” she answered while he looked her over. Logically, she knew that there was no point in him making sure she was physically okay, but she was also aware of Malcolm’s anxiety when it came to his dad, so she let him do what he needed to do in order to calm himself down. After a minute, he sighed softly then offered her a small grin.

“Good.” His words made her smile and she gestured to her car.

“Ready to go?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she tossed him her keys and got into the passenger side, knowing he preferred to be the one to drive when on a case.

“Where are we going?” He questioned as he walked around to the driver’s side and got in.

“Back to Melissa Willis’ house,” she answered. “I need to ask her a few more questions.” As she talked, Malcolm started the car and began driving. It was silent at first, but then Malcolm spoke.

“You lied,” he stated, which made Elena look at him. “About the connection between the victims. You don’t know if the coffee shop was their connection or not.” Elena shook her head with a small smile.

“I didn’t lie, I just don’t know if it’s the full truth. That’s why we’re going back to the Willis house. The victims tox screens came back and they showed an almost lethal amount of liquid coke in all three of their systems.”

“Coke?” Malcolm repeated confusedly.

“That’s not all though. After a close look at the bodies, the coroner found signs of past injections in the vics’ legs.”

“So they shoot up a lot,” Malcolm concluded, which earned a nod from Elena.

“Gil wants us to go to the Willis house to see if Melissa knew about her ex-husband’s drug problems,” she explained. The man beside her hummed thoughtfully then looked at her.

“Why do I have a feeling that that’s not all you want to say?” He inquired casually.

“Because you used to be a profiler for the FBI,” she retorted, which earned a laugh from him. “But, I am developing a theory.”

“Oh, pray tell?”

“Don’t you find it a bit coincidental that all three of the victims were drug users and all three of them often visited that specific cafe?” She inquired, hoping he understood what she was getting at. Malcolm hummed thoughtfully.

“So you think that the victims had the same supplier,” he finished her thought process.

“And said supplier makes them meet at the coffee shop,” she concluded. “The only way to truly tell is by checking with the victims’ families then asking around at that cafe.”

“It’s a sound theory,” Malcolm stated. “But then why would the unsub shoot the victims execution style?” Elena hummed in thought then laughed softly.

“I haven’t gotten that far.”

“It’s okay,” he brushed off, looking like he meant it. But there was an inflection in his voice that concerned Elena.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong, Lena.” She shot him an unimpressed look.

“You can’t fool me, Malcolm Bright. You know better than that,” she scolded gently. Malcolm sighed, but thankfully pulled into Melissa’s driveway so he could get out of the conversation.

“I’ll tell you later,” he brushed off as he turned off the car.

“I’m holding you to that,” she shot back as they got out. Malcolm shook his head with a small smile then led her to the front door.

Elena ended up being right. The killer, Joseph Straum, was targeting people specifically who had a drug problem that led to divorce because he had to deal with it as a child. His father was a heavy cocaine abuser and in turn, his mother divorced him. Not long after their divorce was finalized, Joseph’s father broke into his mother’s house and shot her execution style.

Surprisingly, Joseph was easily apprehended and sent away. Everyone was absolutely exhausted, despite being a satisfying arrest and conclusion, it had been a long week of attempting to solve the case. Everyone had gone home, Elena thought that she was the last one there. She was surprised to see Malcolm still at his desk. She glanced at her phone. 10:00 p.m.

“Having trouble with your report?” She joked as she leaned against his desk. The man chuckled and shook his head before turning off his computer.

“No, actually, I was just trying to figure out how to get home.” Elena’s brows furrowed in confusion before recognition struck her.

“Oh my god your car is still at Claremont,” she realized. Malcolm smiled awkwardly then nodded.

“Yep, you picked me up.” Elena mentally facepalmed then ran her hands through her hair.

“I am so sorry Malcolm,” she sighed. “The gate to the hospital is probably already closed, isn’t it?” The man nodded yet again. “I’ll just give you a ride home.”

“You don’t have to do that Lena,” he protested immediately, but she wasn’t having it.

“Come on, I pass by your place on the way home anyway.” She grabbed her jacket then walked out, grinning when she heard him follow.

The ride home was pretty quick. They made pleasant conversation about their weekend plans then laughed when they realized neither of them had any.

“So what was wrong earlier? After we left Claremont?” Elena finally questioned once they were near his apartment. Malcolm paused then chuckled.

“I see you weren’t kidding when you said you’d hold me to it,” he joked.

“Don’t avoid the question,” she laughed. “Seriously, does it have something to do with your dad?” At the mention of his father, Malcolm’s smile dropped and his gaze went out the window.

“Doesn’t matter. Just promise me you’ll never go near him again, understand?” Elena was taken aback but his sudden shift in mood.

“What? Why?” She questioned.

“Just don’t go back there Elena,” he repeated defensively.

“Hey, no need to get snappy, I’m just trying to help you,” she retorted in the same tone.

“Well I don’t need your help,” Malcolm exclaimed, getting out of the car when she stopped in front of his building. He slammed the door closed, which scared Elena but also made her mad. So, she turned off the car and ran to catch up with him as he reached the door.

“What is your problem!” She all but yelled, grabbing his hand.

“Just leave it alone,” Malcolm hissed, attempting to pull away from her.

“No! I want to know why you’re acting this way, I haven’t-”

“I love you!” Malcolm yelled, whipping around and yanking his hand away. Elenena froze, her mouth dropping open. She didn’t have a chance to say anything before he continued.

“I love you,” he repeated. “And I can’t stand the thought of you seeing my father again because I just know that he’ll drive you away from me because that’s what he’s done with everyone else!” He ran his hands through his hair frustratedly. Both of them were silent for a few minutes as Malcolm attempted to calm down.

“What about Gil?” Elena asked calmly. Malcolm’s brows knit together and he faced her once more.

“What?”

“Did your dad drive away Gil?” She clarified, crossing her arms. “Or what about Dani? Or Edrisa or JT? They’ve met your dad several times before and guess what? They haven’t run away from you. In fact, they’re the closest people you can call friends.” Malcolm attempted to respond, but she cut him off. “And how about me? I’ve met your dad now and I’m more than willing to stay with you. And do you know why that is? Because I care about you, probably way more than I should, but dammit Malcolm, I love you too much to leave you, especially now!”

Elena had to force herself not to yell by the end of her rather passionate speech, but her voice raised enough to emphasize her point. She barely had a second to breathe before Malcolm grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers. Instantly her arms went around him and was pulling him as close as physically possible as she kissed him back. They finally pulled away, though their noses still brushed against each other as they attempted to catch their breaths. Elena’s eyes opened just a bit and was met with Malcolm’s icy blue ones. A smile graced their faces in unison and they couldn’t help but laugh.

“I gotta say, that’s not what I was expecting out of this conversation,” she half joked, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck.

“Me neither,” he responded with a bright smile. “But I’m not complaining.”

“Me neither,” she repeated.

“Would you want to come in? I can make us dinner,” he offered, to which she nodded.

“I would like nothing more,” she responded, pressing another kiss to his lips before pulling away completely. Malcolm took her hand in his then led her inside, both with comically wide smiles on their faces.

#prodigal son #prodigal son imagine #prodigal son fanfiction #malcolm bright #malcolm bright imagine #malcolm bright x oc

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noravon · 1 year

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OH. SO I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED A FANFIC EXCERPT HERE

Oops.

... anyway, hi there.

If you liked Prodigal Son and would like to read fanfiction of that, I’m moving blogs and abandoning this one.

Just send me a message and let me know. I’ll give you the @

But uh

other than that, hope you are doing well.

#thanks to katt for reblogging it like a real g #that was very kind of you and it made me smile #also #uh #YOU WERE FAST #hot damn #prodigal son #prodigal son fx #prodigal son fanfiction #malcolm bright

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raz-writes-the-thing · 5 months

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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.”

#martin whitly #martin whitly imagine #martin whitly x reader #prodigal son #prodigal son imagine #michael sheen #martin whitly x you #dr whitly #dr. whitly x reader #prodigal son x reader #michael sheen x reader #x reader #martin whitly x yn #martin whitly x y/n #prodigal son fic #prodigal son fanfic #prodigal son fanfiction

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denaliwrites · 6 months

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But Then My Stupid Phone Beeps

Martin Whitly x GN!Reader

Summary: Dr. Whitly accidentally discovers the name you have him under in your contacts. He's... conflicted.

Soundtrack: Saddy Daddy-o by Artimus Wolz

Requests: Open!

Warnings: I dunno, it's Martin Whitly. Can be read as Daddy Kink but isn't necessarily intended that way.

You thought you could trust Martin with your phone. That was the whole reason you'd had the guard hand it off to him. You'd just needed to run to the restroom. That was it. How much trouble could he possibly get into in the, at maximum, two minutes it took you to run there and back?

Apparently, a lot.

Walking back into the room, you immediately knew something was... off. You weren't sure how, but there was a subtle difference in the air. When you turned to the guard, he gave you a look as he leaned forward to pass your phone back.

Martin was uncharacteristically quiet. Your attention turned to him, and you finally saw the expression he wore -- something caught between disgruntlement and bemusement.

"What's wrong?" you asked, and you wondered if maybe something had happened with Malcolm or Ainsley. Had they had another falling out? Could that much damage really have happened in the two minutes (max) that you were gone?

"Murder Daddy, huh?" Martin shot back, tone casual but eyes belying the emotions roiling away underneath his nonchalant act.

You stiffened, clutching the phone to your chest. "Wh... wheeeeere did you hear that?" you tried to cover, forcing a smile. "Did someone on Twitter call you that?"

"No..." he said, and he sounded remarkably like an admonishing parent, and you realized that this was literally the worst time to get turned on, but hey -- you'd been naughty, apparently. "You did."

The disappointment in his voice was palpable, and you whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, I know, little lamb," he chuckled darkly. "But I'm not interested in an apology."

"Y-you're not?"

"Oh, no," he told you, moving to a stand and pacing to the red line that separated you two. He was painfully close -- tauntingly within reach but unable to be touched. You could feel his breath ghosting across your skin, and you were dangerously close to drowning in his eyes. "I want to know how you're going to make it up to your Murder Daddy."

#martin whitly x reader #martin whitly x you #prodigal son fic #prodigal son fanfiction #michael sheen #unofficial name dumb ways to die part 2

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olives-and-sunshine · 1 month

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"Codependence" - Malcolm x GN!Reader

Summary: People say that codependency and needing someone is unhealthy, but what if it's mutual? Malcolm reflects on your relationship

Word Count: 508

Content and Warnings: No reader descriptions, 2nd person, talk of (mutual) codependence, talk of how codependency can be unhealthy (not in this case), could be read as queerplatonic, romantic, or ambiguous, let me know if I missed something!

A/N: elliot posting? it's a miracle! (this sat in my drafts for like 6 months lol)

Was it healthy? Who knows. Malcolm definitely didn't, nor did he really care. Because when he was holding you, or talking to you, or even just sitting in the same room as you, it calmed everything a bit. It silenced everything a little. While you were there, the voices were a little quieter. The need for a distraction was lessened, because you just being there distracted him. You took up all his thoughts till there was nothing else. Sometimes it was that way even when you weren't there. All he could think about was seeing you again and hearing about your day. Or it was seeing something that reminded him of you. You carved a space in his mind for yourself, similar to Martin, but in this case, it was welcome. Martin took apart his heart piece by piece, manipulating his way in, forcing Malcolm to care. But you just took his heart. Easily. And although he tried to make himself be bothered that he let someone close, to care about the fact that he let someone close enough that they could get hurt, but he couldn't. He didn't want you to get hurt, not when he cared about you so much, but when you held his hand, or smiled or laughed, every single thought of pushing you away disappeared.

He knew about codependency. He had studied it to graduate, after all. He knew all the signs, all the behaviors, all the different types. Depending on someone else to regulate your emotions. Using them to erase everything. Being willing to give away everything and let it all dissolve into nothing for the chance to stay by someone's side. Having the only things you want being what they want. Not wanting to leave them, to spend every second by their side. To want to crawl into their skin to just stay with them. To be close to them. To be one with them. He knew how harmful it could be. He knew how much it hurt when the other person didn't feel it too, when the codependency was one-sided. Or when it just turned abusive, or if one person or both people were unhealthy. How it could bring both people down.

But that wasn't the case with you. Because all you wanted was to be with him too. He knew that everything else dissolved for you when you saw him. You've said it before. That you'll never leave, and all you want is for him to let you stay, to just be by his side. How could he refuse? How could he refuse when all the negative thoughts, self-doubt, and fear of himself were gone? When that is all he wanted too?

Maybe, since you felt it too, it was ok. Sure it wasn't healthy, you could both see that, but maybe it didn't have to change. Maybe you could just leave things the way they are. Maybe infatuation wasn't so bad when it was equal. Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to be addicted to each other, together.

#malcolm bright x reader #malcolm bright x gn!reader #malcolm bright ficlet #malcolm bright x reader ficlet #malcolm bright fanfic #malcolm bright fic #malcolm bright #prodigal son #prodigal son fanfiction

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missshezz · 1 year

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Hey ;) How is life going for You ? I hope you're well and safe. Sending you hugs.

May I request a Malcolm Bright x Reader fic please ? Reader is Malcolm's closest friend so naturally he comes to visit her when she is sick so he can take care of her, just like she has been taking care of him through the hard times he has been going through.

You don't have to do it if you don't want to, really just do whatever makes you feel comfortable.

Please take care ;)

Hi there, anon! I am doing well .., survived Thanksgiving and Black Friday 🤣 sending you hugs, as well, and hoping you’re well!

I actually don’t normally do CC x Reader because of the complexity of the second person narrator POV. However, I had a thought for something while waiting for my brother to finish shopping. Hopefully, it fits what you wanted!

Title: The Air That You Breathe

Word Count: 750

Characters: Malcolm Bright and Reader

Tags: Sick!fic, friendship, Harvard years (pre-canon), humor, angst, fluff

…

It started out as the sniffles.

Nothing to worry about in your mind.

You had allergies. Sniffles tended to happen when they acted up. You had the other symptoms to further establish it was simply your allergies kicking you in the ass.

Then came the fever and chills.

A cough that left you short of breath.

“Bad cold,” your roommates said. “You’ll be fine in a few days.”

A bad cold became bronchopneumonia.

Landed you in the hospital three days before finals.

Definitely not how you wanted to finish the first half of your senior year but what could you do?

You tried to finish the mountain of papers and projects due but exhaustion dogged you at every turn.

Studying?

Yeah, there was a joke.

It took you four hours to read one page.

Even then you couldn’t remember one damn bit of what you read. After your twentieth attempt to read the page you tossed the offensive textbook across the room.

Luckily, it hit the wall and not the man who had slipped into your hospital room while you were arguing with said textbook.

“Uhm,” Malcolm said, instantly grabbing your attention. “I don’t think throwing your textbook is going to help the situation.”

“Like hell,” you wheezed as you shifted to look at him. “Throwing it made me feel better than I have in days.”

A nervous smile creased Malcolm’s lips. He ducked his head, strands of that gorgeous sable hair you longed to run your fingers through falling forward to conceal a face that should grace the covers of GQ, Esquire, and Men’s Vogue. You often wondered why he hid his smile like that that but you never asked him.

You weren’t one to pry and Malcolm Bright wasn’t one to cough up answers unless he chose to give them.

Not that it mattered really.

Everyone had their idiosyncrasies.

Malcolm’s were just a bit… odder than some.

They were what made him so adorkable.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked as you managed to finally catch your breath. “I figured you’d be up to your eyeballs with getting ready for finals.”

“I wanted to come see you,” he said. “Make sure you were getting better.”

“I’m getting better.” Much too slowly in your opinion. Not that you had any choice in the matter. Doctors and their medicine could only do so much. The rest was simply up to your body and whenever it decided to finally kick this shit. “Thanks for coming by,” you said. “Been hard being cooped up in here without my phone or computer.”

A frown creased Malcolm’s brow.

“I brought your phone and laptop when I brought your books.”

“And my mom confiscated them when she left.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’m here to get well.”

As if you couldn’t get better while using your phone and laptop.

Your mom was adamant, however.

No phone, no computer.

Not until you were released from the hospital. Blue-green eyes winked out from between the strands of hair begging you to brush them from his face.

“I’ve missed you.”

Your heart melted at his shyly uttered confession. That or the drugs they’ve got me on have made me loopy. Either way, those words filled you with the warm fuzzies.

You had had a crush on Malcolm since Freshman year but he seemed absolutely clueless to it.

Not much of a shock really.

Social situations weren’t Malcolm’s strong suit.

Making his missing you all the sweeter.

“Here.” Malcolm set a white paper bag on your hospital tray. “I brought you a container of minestrone and breadsticks from Luigi’s.” Another small smile curved his lips. “Figured it’d help you feel better.”

Like her Nonna’s chicken noodle soup made him feel better whenever his stomach was unable to keep anything but Twizzlers and sparkling water down.

You thought you were going to turn into a big pile of goo at his thoughtfulness.

He tended to do things like bringing you tea with lemon on a cold day or a blueberry bagel because you tended to forget to have breakfast.

And yeah he tended to always have an extra scantron because he knew you’d forget to pick up one before class.

Because Malcolm Bright sucked balls at reading social situations.

He was shit at expressing his feelings verbally.

And yeah, maybe he focused a bit too much on murder and murderers.

He was damn good at knowing just how to make a shitty day better.

That, in the end, was all that mattered.

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #malcolm x reader #prodigal son fanfiction #prodigal son gif #asked and answered #Scorp writes

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writethrough · 1 year

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Hi, how are you. Can I request a Malcolm Bright imagine. Reader is kinda like a female Sherlock Holmes or an member of behavioral analysis unit from criminal minds…… Angst to fluff….

thank you

Little Parts

(Malcolm Bright x Female Reader)

Warnings: Mentions of murder, kidnapping, abuse, death, violence (please let me know if I missed anything)

Word Count: 3315

A/N: Thank you for this request! I chose to go the BAU route. Though I didn't necessarily mention Criminal Minds, I do use the lingo. I had a lot of fun writing this one and I definitely did not expect my OC Nancy to have as big of a presence as she does. I do think I need to work on my angst. I love reading it, but writing it is a different story. I hope you enjoy it!

Nancy Whitmore had murdered six people: five women and the husband who came home early and found his wife mid-abduction. Two shots to the chest, the first time Nancy ever used the gun she held to force the women to come with her.

Those two gunshots were what started this all. Nancy had panicked and fled with the wife, not worrying about the scene she left behind.

When the NYPD connected this to the other missing women, they called you. As skillful as Gil and his team were, your expertise would be invaluable.

And it was. So invaluable, in fact, that Nancy Whitmore knew she had to do something.

—

The bullpen was abuzz with every available person preparing for tonight. Nancy had escalated since word got out that a profiler had joined the investigation. And if you were right, there would be another victim before midnight. You had to get her before then.

“We know she stays within this area,” Gil said, tapping a marker in the circle he drew. “And we’ve released a statement telling everyone to stay indoors when it’s dark.”

“Staying home isn’t going to prevent our unsub from kidnapping who she wants,” you said. “We’ve seen her murder outside of her preference when cornered. I doubt that’s changed.”

“Everyone else is just a means to an end,” Malcolm said.

You nodded.

It hadn’t taken long for you to figure out these women represented Nancy’s mother. From what you gathered, Mrs. Whitmore ruled her household with an iron fist. No one, her husband or her children, was safe from the abuse she inflicted.

Nancy’s father protected Nancy from his wife, but once he died, Nancy had to step up and protect her younger brother. The brother's death at the tragic age of twenty-five was the catalyst for all of Nancy’s crimes.

“As long as Nancy feels the need to protect others from her mother, it doesn’t matter who gets in her way. Nothing's going to stop her from reaching that goal,” you said, rubbing your temple.

“What I don’t understand is how she can’t remember that her mother is dead.” JT’s frustration was evident.

“She’s blocked so much out. Her brother’s passing triggered her, and the only explanation she could come up with was that her mother murdered him,” you explained. Nancy’s brother died in a freak accident at his job. A cable snapped at the construction zone, and that’s all it took for his life to be taken. Nancy’s trauma filled in the blanks and then some. She thought her mother had returned or that she didn't actually die, and Nancy had to do the one thing she’s been doing since she was thirteen—survive.

“We need to figure out where she is. We have patrol cars at every address of hers, but not one of them has seen her.” Gil dragged both hands down his face.

“It’s getting late. What if Nancy already has her next victim?” Dani asked.

“It’s possible,” you said. “But even with Nancy's escalations, she follows a pattern. She grabs them once it’s dark, not before, and she keeps them alive for three days. She has to follow that.”

“I hate to say this, but if worse comes to worst, we have seventy-two hours to find her and the vic,” JT said.

You nodded, stifling a yawn.

Gil gave you an empathetic look. “I know we still have a ways to go, but none of us will be any help if we don’t get some sleep.” He paused, scanning the four of you. “We’ll take shifts. Some of us should be here if anything happens.”

“I’ll stay,” Malcolm said.

You weren’t surprised. It didn’t take a profiler to know Malcolm Bright was an insomniac.

“Me too,” Dani said. “Go tuck your kid in.” She nodded to JT, who gave her a grateful smile.

“Alright, you two, go home. I’ll call you if we hear anything.” Gil gestured for you to leave.

You were about to protest when Malcolm cut in.

“We’ll be fine.” He leveled you with a look. “You’ve been going since you landed two weeks ago. A few hours of rest will only help us catch our suspect sooner.”

You sighed, knowing he and Gil were right.

“Fine,” you said. The clock read 8 PM. “But I’ll be back here by midnight.”

A bit more than three hours should be a good enough power nap.

Malcolm gave you a gentle smile. “Wouldn’t have expected anything different.”

—

You and Malcolm had taken to each other like fish to water.

You had arrived at the crime scene and met everyone except Malcolm, who had been running late.

Edrisa had finished her preliminary evaluation when he walked up to you, speaking to anyone who would listen about his theory on how the vic ended up here. Every part was pretty plausible, but one.

“Everything about our killer is tactful. She doesn’t let her anger get the best of her because she can’t afford to. There’s more at stake for her,” you said.

It was like you pulled him back to reality. His brow furrowed, and he finally registered that you were new.

“She?” he asked.

You nodded. “Like I said, I don’t see anger when I look at this woman’s wounds. I don’t even see pleasure. How many male serial killers do you know that you can say that about?”

Malcolm couldn’t help but think about his father. The person who took more pleasure in his work than anyone he knew.

“SSA (Y/N) (L/N).” You held out your hand.

He gave you his name. You didn’t bat an eye. It made him think—hope—you had no idea who he was. It was a day later that hope came crashing down.

“You know who my father is?” His eyes widened, a pang resounding in his heart.

You shrugged. “Course I do. Did you really think I wouldn’t read up on the team I’d be consulting with?”

“Well, no. I just thought maybe you’d focus on the case more.” Malcolm couldn’t look you in the eyes. And your heart went out to him. He’d probably been judged by his father’s actions his entire life.

“We’re not our parents, Malcolm,” you said gently. “If we were, I’d be a cheating accountant or a bitter middle school teacher.”

“Those are two very different professions from dear-old Dad,” he said.

“Yeah, they are, but the point is everyone has a shitty little part of themselves that they keep hidden. And some of us do a better job than others.”

“And what shitty little part are you hiding?” He tried to disguise it as a joke. However, he also desperately wanted to know the truth. He wanted to know if maybe, just maybe, you were a little like him.

A smirk tugged at your lips. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

—

The taxi to Dani’s apartment dropped you off a block away. Traffic in the city was no joke, and you weren’t about to pay to sit in line for who knows how long.

You and Dani had attended the academy together. When she found out you’d be consulting with them, she offered you a place to stay. The problem was she only had one key, and you’d typically carpool to and from the precinct.

Pulling out your phone, you clicked on her number.

“Everything okay?” She greeted you, concerned.

“Yeah, but I may have to pick the lock to your door,” you said, trying to remember if you had a bobby pin in your bag.

“Shit. I completely forgot.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve kinda been focusing on more important things,” you said.

“I can run it over to you. We haven’t gotten any calls yet, and it’s not like my place is far,” she said.

“That’d be great. It’s been a minute since I had to break in somewhere,” you joked.

“Okay, I’m on my way.” Her voice sounded like she was facing the other direction, but you still caught it. “Everything’s fine. She forgot to take my key.”

There was a brief silence as whoever responded, and then she was back.

“Your boyfriend’s concern is touching, but you should tell him to cool it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “My boyfriend?”

“Malcolm.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing.

Unconsciously, you caught the steps of someone jogging behind you and moved to the right out of their way.

“Malcolm and I are just friends,” you said, thankful to be alone as heat surfaced to your cheeks.

“Yeah, and what about the dumb smiles and little glances you give each other,” Dani asked. You could hear her smirk through the phone.

“I don’t give him dumb smi—”

—

The unmistakable crack of metal hitting something bounced through Dani’s head as she rushed back to the precinct. Everyone had returned and convened in the conference room after she had called them.

Malcolm paced as he ran through everything they knew about Nancy.

She abducts women from their homes, taking them away from the place they have power. Three days later, the women are found beside dumpsters, handcuffed. It was Nancy’s way of handing over her mother to the police. Deep down, she believed she was helping.

Malcolm shook his head. That didn’t make sense for you. There was no telling what Nancy would do now that she had you. The only hope Malcolm had was where you were abducted outside of Dani’s apartment—outside of your temporary home.

The clock was ticking, except they didn’t know how long the timer was set for.

They had to find you.

Malcolm had to find you.

—

Nancy paced in front of you. She hadn’t said a word. You weren’t entirely sure she knew you were awake.

By the looks of the beams of light pouring through the slats of wood, it was early morning. You’d been out for a few hours. Hopefully, the team had a decent start on finding you.

Your arms were cuffed behind your back, and the metal chair you sat on dug into your biceps. Nancy had even tied your ankles to the legs.

You had to find a way out. There was no telling what Nancy would do now that she had you—to you or to a potential victim.

She was unraveling, and you had to make it seem like you understood her. You had to stay calm. She had to think you were on her side. If at any point she felt threatened, you’d be done.

“Why did you have to get in the way?” She mumbled it as if to herself, then repeated it louder, frustration baring her teeth.

“I was asked to,” you said, trying to make yourself smaller.

She had to believe she was in control.

She rubbed her face roughly. “You could’ve said no. You should’ve stayed away! But you had to stick your nose into family business! She’s gonna hurt someone because of you!”

Angry tears lined her eyes. You made sure to look down in shame. You had to make her think you were submitting.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you whispered.

She stepped closer until you could smell her breath.

“I don’t believe you.”

You didn’t see her raise her hand, but you felt the searing heat of the bullet rip through you.

—

“What if she’s already dead, Gil!” Malcolm asked, staring at the man, willing him to see that they had to find you.

“You know you can’t think like that,” Gil responded. “(Y/N) is a seasoned agent. She’s been trained for this. You need to trust that she knows what she’s doing.”

“It’s not (Y/N) that I don’t trust. Nancy has deviated so far from her usual targets. There’s no telling what she’s done or will do to her.”

“Fine. You’re right, but panicking won't help (Y/N). You need to take a deep breath and work this case with the rest of us. Got it?” Gil was leaning forward, hands on his desk and eyes pleading with Malcolm.

He’d finally nodded after exhaling loudly through his nose.

“Good. Now tell me why Nancy is doing all this," Gil said slowly, urging Malcolm to do what he did best.

—

The pain in your shoulder made it harder to concentrate.

You weren’t sure if she meant to hit you there, and that thought didn’t comfort you. Nancy was spiraling, making your stomach churn at the possibility of not getting you or her out alive.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she had whispered as she wrapped your shoulder. She had said that so many times you were starting to repeat it in your mind. You had begun to believe it, and then she did this. She showed you a little light that maybe she wasn’t that far gone.

Maybe you could still help her.

—

They were so close.

They’d been able to piece together where Nancy was keeping her victims. And they were on their way, sirens off so as not to scare her.

You had to be alive. Malcolm didn’t know what he’d do if you weren’t.

The small shed they arrived at looked ready to collapse.

After Gil announced their presence, you appeared out the door. Nancy followed, gun pressed to your head.

“She needs to be stopped!” Nancy cried.

“Your mother is dead, Nancy! She’s gone. You’re safe,” Malcolm said, keeping his voice calm.

“No! She’s not! She keeps coming back!” Hysteria crept into her tone. You had to do something.

“Nancy,” you said. “I promise, if you let me go and go with them, they will get you help. You’ll never see your mother again.”

She let out a pitiful whine. “You can’t know that. She’s always there. She won’t leave us alone.”

“Nancy.” You tried to make your voice as soothing as possible. “Have I ever lied to you?”

This seemed to stump her. She was quiet for a few moments.

You looked around. Malcolm and the team watched you both, waiting for any sign that she’d take things too far.

Malcolm’s fists were clenched like he wanted nothing more than to rip you away from Nancy and shelter you in his arms. If only it could happen that easily.

“No,” Nancy finally whispered, letting the realization settle in her bones. “No.”

Her hold slowly loosened on you, and the gun lowered until it hit the ground.

You turned to her.

“It’s going to be alright,” you said as JT cuffed her and read her her rights.

You hadn’t noticed Malcolm had come up behind you until your arms were freed. You hissed, the wound in your shoulder flaring up and dizzying you.

He kept a hand on your back as Nancy was led away.

“Come on. We need to get you checked out,” he said, ushering you to the ambulance.

You nodded, his voice coming through fuzzy. Now that you were out of danger, everything hit you all at once. The kidnapping, the pain, the fact that you could’ve died.

Your body was heavy.

The last thing you remembered was Malcolm’s arms around you as you fell.

—

You opened your eyes to the darkness out your window. The smell of the hospital and the beeping of your heart monitor told you where you were.

Slowly, you turned your head to face the other direction and met Malcolm’s exhausted eyes.

“Hey.” He said it softly as if you were still sleeping. “How are you feeling?”

You missed the way his fingers twitched toward your hand.

“Tired,” you said.

He nodded. “Get some rest. I’ll let the doctors know you were up.”

He placed his hands on his thighs to push himself up, but you stopped him.

“Sit with me for a bit? While I’m still awake.” The sight of Malcolm comforted you the longer you were conscious and the more you remembered. You didn’t want to be alone.

“Okay,” he said.

You lifted your fingers as if reaching for him.

“I think you’re supposed to be holding my hand,” you hummed. You could blame your bravery on the morphine later.

He chuckled and ducked his head but pulled his chair closer to your bedside and slipped his hand into yours.

“Better?”

“Much,” you whispered. Your grip was weak, but Malcolm could still tell when you tried to squeeze his hand.

His under eyes seemed darker than usual, and instead of his hands trembling, his index finger grazed your inner wrist in a steady back and forth.

“When did you last sleep?” you asked. You wanted to stay awake. You wanted to live in this bubble with him before reality set in. It didn’t matter how long you’d been out or the questions you’d be asked. All that mattered was being here and having him close.

He shrugged. “A few days ago.” He paused. “I was preoccupied.”

With finding you.

You let out a slow breath. “Sorry to be such a bother.”

He heard the edge of teasing in your tone, but he couldn’t let even a smidge of you think that.

“You could never be a bother. Just don’t go getting kidnapped again, will you? I’d prefer it if you were out of harm's way,” he said.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe you should put out a statement. Make sure all the bad guys know.” This time the teasing was prevalent.

“I think I can put up a few billboards.” He tried to fight the smile forming. “I’ll even have Ainsley do a whole segment.”

You chuckled until the pain in your side made you stop.

“The doctor said you have a concussion,” Malcolm said, brow furrowing in concern.

“Nancy hit me with something.” You steadied your breathing.

“You don’t need to worry about her anymore. Just getting better.”

You weren’t sure if he noticed that he was squeezing your hand, but you didn’t mind. It grounded you. And the way Malcolm was staring at you set your heart fluttering. And the damn heart monitor was giving you away.

Malcolm looked at it, then you. “Are you okay? Should I get a nurse?”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m fine. Promise.”

“If something’s hurting, you need to tell me,” he insisted.

You bit the inside of your lip, debating whether or not what you were about to say was a good idea.

“That’s not why it did that,” you whispered, avoiding his eyes.

“...What do you mean?”

You glanced up at him through your lashes. “I mean…you make me nervous.”

He tilted his head, still not seeming to get it.

“I don’t understand. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He was about to pull his hand away, but you kept your hold.

“You make me nervous because I like you,” you said, giving him a shy smile. “And according to Dani, you like me, too?”

“I…well, of course, I do. I just figured nothing could come out of this since you’d be back to Quantico…” The blush was evident on his cheeks, and it made you all the more smitten.

“After this? A cushy 9-5 sounds incredible,” you said. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”

He grinned, leaning his elbows on the bed. “Where should our first date be?”

You answered him with a smile of your own. “Go find us some jello, and I’ll say yes to a second.”

He stood, still smiling, and was going to leave until he bent down to kiss your forehead.

“Be right back,” he whispered, thumb coming up to brush your cheek.

For a moment, you leaned into his hand with closed eyes. The subtle motion of his finger lulled you into a sense of peace.

You hummed, sinking further into the bed.

By the time Malcolm returned, you were fast asleep. He took up his position by your side again and started making a mental list of where he should take you for your second date.

#prodigal son fanfic #prodigal son #prodigal son fanfiction #prodigal son imagine #malcolm bright x reader #Malcolm bright x you #Malcolm bright fluff #Malcolm bright angst #abuse #violence #kidnapping #mentions of murder #death #fanfic #fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds crossover

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bi-bard · 2 years

Text

I'll Love You When the Oceans Dry - Malcolm Bright Imagine (Prodigal Son)

Title: I'll Love You When the Oceans Dry

Pairing: Malcolm Bright X Reader

Based On: She Calls Me Back

Word Count: 653 words

Warning(s): subtle reference to insecurities

Summary: Malcolm wasn't one to go out looking for love. When he met (Y/n), it simply hit him like a train. He felt like he was balancing on the line between healthy and obsessive. Maybe that balancing act wasn't as scary as he originally thought it was.

Author's Note: It has been a while since I've written for this character. I hope people still like how I write him because I've missed him.

STICK SEASON - NOAH KAHAN WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

**Written in third person**

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It would be reckless to claim that one person could repair any problem that one had with their sleep cycle.

However, Malcolm would be lying if he tried to claim that having (Y/n) next to him didn't help him a little bit.

Maybe it was because being able to wake up and see them was very comforting.

Now... it was thoughts like that that worried him about his feelings for them.

He couldn't help but feel obsessive at times. He would find himself awake far earlier than he should've been and let himself relax next to (Y/n) like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His hand would cup the side of (Y/n)'s face as he scanned every part of their face.

Malcolm knew that they loved him, but he couldn't help but wonder if it felt like it did for him. If it felt like one touch could calm them in a moment. If it felt like being away from them made it just a little bit harder to breathe. If their mind couldn't help but wander to him and wonder about what he was doing when he wasn't with them.

He wanted to know how much of their mind he occupied.

(Y/n)'s eyes would slowly open a little while after Malcolm's. They would grin at him, tilting toward the palm of his hand. The skin offered them a sense of comfort and safety.

"Morning," (Y/n) muttered before looking over Malcolm's shoulder to the window. "Well... almost."

It was still dark outside. The best light source at the time was the streetlight outside of the window. It barely managed to graze part of Malcolm's arm.

"How'd you sleep," they asked.

"Fine," Malcolm said. (Y/n), through tired glances and a yawn, raised an eyebrow at him. 'Fine' was rarely a good answer from Malcolm. "Better."

(Y/n) chuckled. They reached up and grabbed his hand, moving it enough so they could press a kiss to his palm. He took a deep breath as they did. How could one small motion bring him so much comfort?

(Y/n) kept Malcolm's hand in theirs. Their lips rested against the side, a small grin forming as they watched his eyes study them.

"What's on your mind?"

Malcolm almost didn't hear the question. He was just so focused on committing every detail of them to memory.

"Malcolm?"

He blinked a few times, feeling like he was tuning back into the moment in front of him. (Y/n) had leaned back a bit, their thumb still running over the skin of his hand.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You," he replied. He was well aware of how sappy that sounded. He saw it in the amused look on (Y/n)'s face. "Sometimes I think I'm too in love with you."

(Y/n) furrowed their eyebrows.

"When does it become obsessive," he asked. "When does you constantly being on my mind go from sweet to creepy?"

He leaned forward, his forehead pressing against theirs. (Y/n) wasn't sure if he wanted a real answer or not.

In all honesty, Malcolm wasn't quite sure either. He just felt like his heart was being pulled to them. A constant state of longing that he grew to adore. He couldn't imagine his life without that feeling at this point.

(Y/n) pressed their lips to his.

It was a gentle kiss. Gentle and slow. Malcolm felt like he couldn't kiss them back fast enough before they pulled away again.

"I love you," they mumbled to him, face mere inches from his. "I love you so much. I couldn't see you loving me as 'creepy'. I just want to love and be loved by you."

Malcolm's smile grew again. "I love you too."

(Y/n) leaned forward and kissed him again.

He could live his entire life with that longing feeling in his chest as long as he knew that he could always come back to moments like this.

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Author's Note: Not gonna lie, I really like this. It's just so gentle and loving.

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#malcolm bright imagine #malcolm bright x reader #malcolm bright fanfiction #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #prodigal son imagine #prodigal son fanfiction #prodigal son x reader

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