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#Jack Dalton
ash5monster01 · 6 months
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Hi how are you? I don't know if you are accepting requests... but if so, I would like to ask Macgyver for something
I imagine something, where the reader is jealous of Mac with Desi or Riley, and to make matters worse for the reader, one of them ends up getting hurt, and then Mac gives her his full attention? (Riley, Desi) and the reader starts to feel super insecure and super bad...
Thankss!!
first of all the fact I have a MacGyver request right now is nothing short of amazing. with the show being over for a while now the fandom has died down quite a lot and I am happy to write for him whenever. I will also be choosing Desi for this considering I’m very anti-Desi, apologies to anyone who likes her. anyways I hope you enjoy xx
Wish It Was Me
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Pairing: Angus MacGyver x Fem!Reader
Warnings: jealousy, language, angst, heartache, unreciprocated feelings, fluff, happy ending (don’t worry)
Summary: After months of pretending that his behavior doesn’t bother you, you finally find yourself getting fed up and showing your heartbreak towards the boy. He uses this as an excuse to finally confront his feelings for you.
word count: 2.4k
Masterlist
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Harboring a crush on the man your job required you to protect was a great work ethic tactic. In fact it was the best one you had yet. Obviously you’d protect anyone of the team but if something ever actually happened to Mac, you’d be more than upset. Quite possibly crushed. It was also a great tactic considering you were very well trained at keeping your emotions intact which meant not once had you given up the fact you had any feelings for the blonde boy at all. It was simple actually, pine for him when you were alone and protect him when you were together. Always at his 6, gun pointed and loaded. A team always and forever.
That is until Desi Nguyen came along.
Not only is she just as good as you at combat but she was also getting closer to the team and you despised that. Feelings of replacement and jealousy filling you which made you angry for experiencing such emotions at all. It started to get worse when you noticed how close Mac was getting to her. Hell when she first showed up she had caught him leaving the shower and she hadn’t been shameless about it at all. You were the only one to successfully pass her test and she acted like because of that, the two of you were friends. That made it even worse.
It started with him laughing at her jokes, then it was grabbing a coffee after work, and pretty soon it was slight touches in passing, barely noticeable, but there. It was driving you up a wall, yet you’d never show it. Not only was Mac completely clueless but Riley and Bozer as well. So when you find yourself particularly angry for being sent in the field with Mac and Desi, no one seems to pay no mind because you are a shell of stoic. Untouched by silly and childish feelings of crushes and love. You wonder if there is possibly anything that could break your cool and calm structure.
“Y/N, I need you for a minute” your heart stutters, wishing he meant it in a different way, some other way. Yet you obey, not even a glimmer of hope shining as you look in his eyes. “Hold this wire for me please”
“Better hurry guys, we’re gonna have guests soon” Desi speaks, still on guard for any unwanted visitors. You slide your gun in the holster, allowing her to cover you both as you hold the wire like Mac asked.
“Please tell me this will only blow up the bad guys and not us” you tell Mac, a sly smile on your face and he chuckles, his hand twisting with his Swiss army knife as he works on something you can’t possibly comprehend.
“I’m not making any promises” he tells you and you fight the grin that wants to crawl across your face. You want to smile at him like he hung the stars but your job was to protect, not love. Even if you wanted to you’d be afraid of doing it for competition now, even if you didn’t know how Mac felt about Desi you knew she liked him.
That point is proven when you’re interrupted by the heavy footsteps of three men. A shot is let off in the air before you have time to register that the shot was heading for Mac. Desi does her job which is the same as yours, stepping in front of the bullet, and letting it knock her to the ground. You don’t have time to think about it, you move on command, years of skill practically motorized into your being. Your gun is out your holster in seconds and you’ve shot all three men to the ground before anyone can think about it. It’s what you were built for.
“Shit Desi, are you okay?” it’s Mac’s voice that pulls you from combat mode. You turn to find he has taken position over her fallen form, both her hands and his own holding her wound tightly as she bleeds from her torso.
“Been better Mac” she tells him, voice straining like she’s clearly in pain. You see it in his eyes though. It’s what keeps you from rushing to her side as well. It was there all along and maybe he was just as good at hiding it as you or you were denial. He’s looking at her the way you would’ve looked at him if he was the one laying on that ground.
“Matty, we’re gonna need an exfil location stat. Desi has been shot” you call over on your comm’s and the worried voices from the other team members seem to make you sadder. Feeling abandoned by your team and guilty for allowing such personal feelings to make you seem so cold towards a girl who had never done anything wrong to you.
“Alright, hang in there Des. We’ll get you out of here” it’s the nickname that comes from his mouth that makes bile rise to your throat but when he cradled the girl in his arms it’s something else entirely. Pain worse than you’ve faced in the field sears through you and when Mac looks up at you, you decide it’s time to accept that this is your life now. Him and her. The real team.
What you don’t know is that Mac see’s it. The pain, it’s written clear as day across your face. It startled him for a moment because you never give anything up. A statue of a person and to see you seem so dejected is heartbreaking in a way he can’t comprehend. He knows it’s not worry for Desi, he’s sure that is inside of you somewhere, but the pain written across your face is one of longing. After months of wishing you’d reciprocate any feelings for him at all he realizes they were always there, just under the surface.
Matty pulled off an emergency extract quickly, and thankfully the debrief was quick due to worry of Desi’s condition. Everyone can tell you’re defeated, more than likely thinking it was from an unsuccessful mission. You let them, and go to your rented room in Mac’s home. For the first time in months wishing you didn’t live there. Thankful Bozer and Mac stayed back you pour yourself a heavy glass of wine, find yourself in a warm shower, and then curled on your bed in some pajamas with a book. You’re four glasses of wine deep and halfway through the book when you hear the front door open and close.
“I’m home” is called out. Mac who had been with Desi all this time. Bozer had come home hours ago, and was more than likely asleep. For the first time in a while you wished you had shut your bedroom door to avoid him, have a good night sleep in before you had to deal.
“Hey, you’re up” he’s in your doorway in seconds. You feel yourself sitting up and removing the reading glasses from your face. Mac always finds it odd seeing you like this. Curled up in a mound of blankets and pillows, the smell of fresh wine and a vanilla candle, silk sleep sets laid across your skin, hair piled high on your head. You were so soft compared to the girl in the field. The same girl he watched take down three men in lightning speed today. Now somehow you were in bed with a book. Weird how the world worked.
“Not really tired, is um. Is Desi okay?” you feel bad for not showing much interest in her well being. You just needed some time to think, some time to regain your composure.
“Last I checked yeah, I haven’t seen her for a couple of hours” he admits as he walks in. As he sits at the end of your bed you realize this isn’t uncommon. You two are still friends. No matter what you realized today.
“I thought you were with her?” you give him a puzzled look and he shrugs.
“I was, yeah. Then once I knew she was stable I went back to the Phoenix to fill out a mission report. Then Matty took advantage and got me to catch up on paperwork I’d been avoiding for a while” you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes your lips. Mac was a professional at avoiding the paperwork part of his job but every once in a while Matty could get her way.
“That’s on you for going back” you tell him and he chuckles along with you, head nodding.
“Could I ask you something?” he says once the laughter has quieted down and you find yourself getting exceptionally nervous. He can’t tell.
“Always Mac, it’s kinda my job” you tease which is true. When you were hired at the Phoenix Foundation it was literally to protect Mac in the field. You were pretty sure his name is in your exact job description.
“You’re not on the clock” he says which in a way was true but not really. It wasn’t uncommon for threats to breach your shared home, the minute that happens you’ll be protecting him then too.
“MacGyver, get to the question” you tell him even though you’d rather he walk out and never ask you any questions ever.
“Today you looked, well you never usually look like anything. But today you looked hurt, dare I say heartbroken” and you feel all the air sucked out of the room because you had shown emotions past your exterior and Mac had seen them.
“I don’t know what you mean” but you couldn’t look him in the eyes and he knew. He knew it deep in his bones.
“Look Y/N, maybe I could be wrong. That it was all just concern but if you feel anything for me the way I feel for you than that look was so much more than that” his words almost didn’t register. Your heart caught them before your head did. It was ramming against your rib cage and your head was snapping towards him because MacGyver of all people just admitted to having feelings for you.
“Feel for me?” you questioned quietly, your eyes locking on his own blue ones. You had seen Mac serious about many things before but somehow this seemed like more.
“Are you kidding me Y/N? Of course I have feelings for you. I spend all of my time with you considering we work and live together. On top of that you are always taking care of me and are the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I was in love with you within a month of knowing you. Jack would always tease me about it” a small squeak left your throat at his confession. Wondering how you had never seen it before.
“Jack knew?” maybe it wasn’t the best question at the moment, but since Jack had passed it was hard to bring him up. Knowing he had passed away and there were things none of you guys got to tell him.
“Yeah, I always promised him I’d tell you how I felt one day and every day since he passed I’ve been breaking that promise more and more. So here I am not breaking it” he told you, a hand running wildly through his hair.
“What about Desi?” you wanted to make sure, needed to make sure.
“She’s just a friend. Most of the time I just flirted with her to get a reaction out of you” this was the most shocking of all. You’d expected him to say he had gained feelings for her too, but now as he sat at the end of your bed staring back at you with hopeful eyes you realized this was never the case.
“So it’s me?” you asked and a smile cracked across his face, a deep chuckle coming out as he dropped his head. His soft blonde locks dangling in front of his eyes.
“Yes Y/N. It’s always been you” he told you once he looked back up, and finally you allowed a real smile to cross your face.
“Well this is a first” you chuckled, hand reaching to grab your glass of wine. You gulped back the last sip and abandoned the empty glass, him watching you closely.
“What is?” he asked once you seemed to have your head straight.
“Having someone return the same feelings I have for them. I mean it usually never happens because I save face when it comes to emotions but here we are. You and me. In my room. Being adult and admitting things like attraction” you blabbered lightly and Mac laughed, a wide grin on his face. You suddenly had the urge to grab hold of the deep red shirt he had on, it matching the color of wine on your lips.
“So you’re admitting you like me too?” he asked and you just rolled your eyes before shoving your book out of your lap.
“Shut up and kiss me MacGyver” and he wasted no time, a devious grin crawling across his face as he moved to climb over to you. The anticipation of him getting closer seemed to take forever but finally he was face to face, arms locked on either side of you, and you took a moment to inspect every inch of him. “I have good taste”
“I do too” and then he was closing the gap between you both. Lips slotting gently against your own. His mouth was warm and soft, much different from his calloused hands. Your fingers tangled in his hair, mussing it around. Kissing him was like taking in a breath of fresh hair and pretty soon his tongue was dipping your mouth, tasting the wine left behind from your leisure afternoon. Tangling your tongue with his own you realize you could stay like this forever, just the two of you, in this room.
“It’s so not fair” you said once you broke apart, foreheads pressed together and heavy breaths panting out of both of you.
“What’s that doll?” he asked and you sighed.
“You’re good at everything else, you can’t be good at that too” and he was laughing, arms wrapping around you as he rolled over and pulled you on top of him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll show you what else I’m good at too”
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anguishmacgyver · 6 months
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gloryandthedream · 9 months
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The wildest ep of the Macgyver reboot
Sometimes I think fondly about Macgyver (2016) season 3 episode 13 Wilderness + Training + Survival....and how absolutely batshit this episode was. If the creators had decided to confidently maintain these chaos levels, I think the show would have been better and had a longer run in general (but that's just my opinion).
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Some random insane details that got fully brushed over but make me lose my mind every time:
Mac actively choosing to bring no emergency supplies out of pure god complex.
That time the bad guy leader tore Mac's beanie off and grabbed him by the hair sexual-style. Absolutely no other character has thought to grab Mac by the hair in the original show or the reboot like wtf
EDIT I've been reminded by some friendly reblogs that hair-pulling happens in a couple other episodes. Regardless, it cracks me up every single time. The guy seems to do it out of pure frustration and that is so funny to me.
Riley wearing acrylics into the wilderness
The bad guy just up and massacred his entire squad so he wouldn't have to share the money. Like he just shot them all in cold blood. That's some GOT shit.
Mac getting shot in the thigh from like two inches away and not having his entire femur shattered.
Riley and Bozer running into a clearing scattered with dead bodies?? With Mac bleeding out (?) in the middle?? No questions asked.
At least two of the bad guys were SEVERELY injured and they just got left to die in the absolute middle of nowhere after all that emphasis on how dangerous the wilderness is lmfao
RILEY WEARING ACRYLICS INTO THE WILDERNESS
Bozer being totally confused by the word yarrow implying that he did literally none of the reading.
That one guy who was blinded by burning poison oak and left to die in the woods
Mac doing math and science word problems outloud while a group of murdering criminals stare at him in confusion
Why did he have a random hillbilly friend in the mountains
Why did he suddenly have a pickup truck for the occasion
anyway i miss Macgyver and i wish it would come back RIP ok bye
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MacGyver 2x9 CD Rom + Hoagie Foil
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macgyverresearcher · 3 months
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• Angus MacGyver + Jack Dalton •
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improvidus · 10 months
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has this been done yet, or
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paperclipped-mongoose · 4 months
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Convincing Enough For You?
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Pairing: Angus Macgyver x F! Reader
Summary: An important mission came up, and during the briefing it became clear that Mac didn't think you were the right fit for the flirtatious role.
Word Count: 1.6k
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Use of Y/N (not excessive), First Person, Fight Flirting, Arguing, A malfunctioning MacGyver, A villain who likes to take advantage of women, Couple Arguments. Let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Hey Guys! This my first MacGyver Fanfiction, I love writing the series and characters so let me know if you guys like it! Comments and messages mean the world to me! If you've got any ideas for future fic's my idea box is open! ENJOY!
“I’m not sure if this is the best idea, Matty. You know how they feel about each other.” Riley trailed after her boss as they made their way down the hall to the war room. She had been let in on the game plan for the next mission early because Matty needed her input.
“They’re adults. They can put their feelings, undefined they are, away in order to do their job professionally.” Matty could hope. Ever since you joined the Phoenix Foundation there had been a certain animosity between you and a certain human encyclopedia. You were never sure if it was flirting or trying to get on each other’s nerves. 
Matty could hear the sounds of shouting from the war room down the hall. “Oh, get your head out of the clouds! You know all too well that if it wasn’t for Bozer and Jack you would have blown yourself up, gotten shot, or made some kinda poisonous gas to kill yourself. You think you’re way more aware than you are. But newsflash: you’re not!” You paused to take a breath, you had made sure to choose your words carefully, they were nothing if not the truth. Mac could make a plane out of a recycling bin and some potatoes, but he routinely got his ass saved by Jack in the field, and Bozer in his own home. 
Mac stood in front of the coffee table, his arms crossed tight across his chest. “At least I actually do things to save our asses on missions. Or were you the one who made infrared glasses so we could see the cameras when Riley couldn’t access the system?”
Something about Mac’s defensiveness made you want to egg him on continually. Maybe it was because you liked to hear him talk, even when it wasn’t in a positive way. There were days where the two of you were civil and even friendly, but those days were boring. No conversations would be had, and the day inevitably turned into awkward silence and stares. 
Neither you nor Mac liked it that way. 
So you picked on each other. It was clear there were never any ill intentions, but sometimes it rode the line and, you were sure, made your coworkers wonder if you and Mac were actually mad. To be fair, it was a question that rarely had a simple answer. But that was just the way the two of you were. Complicated. And you wouldn’t have taken it any other way. 
“Can we go one meeting without you two saying something distasteful to each other? One meeting. That’s all I’m asking.” Matty pulled up her screen on the wall before shooting a pointed look at those who stood around the room. Jack observed the screens as they came up, and Riley sat on one of the chairs doing her best to ignore you and Mac, knowing how this would go, and something told her Matty wouldn’t get her wish for peace.
“This is Bryan Snyder.” A rather unpleasant-looking man was pulled up on the full screen along with his Phoenix records. “Hacker extraordinaire with a rap sheet a mile long of gambling offenses.” Matty flashed a couple photos across the screen of Bryan surrounded by presumable winnings and women. 
Riley finally took a cue from Matty and spoke up. "He's had incidents filed with multiple casinos, all stemming from his pension for picking up women who've just fought with their partners, while the partner is around."
Jack scoffed as he found his way to the empty seat next to Riley. “Sounds like he's made a game out of picking up girls on the rebound."
Jack’s comment earned a grin from Riley, who added: "At least he looks like he tips well."
Your leg bounced involuntarily as you fiddled with the few paperclips in your hand—not bending them, just linking them together one after the other to make a chain. It drove Mac mad, and you knew it. He was one who did things with purpose, so idly fiddling with some paperclips without reshaping or bending them clawed at him internally. “So what is our position in this?” you finally spoke up. “I didn’t know the Phoenix Foundation did personal vendetta work for ex-girlfriends.” 
Matty shook her head watching Mac who silently but unsubtly stared you down as you wrapped the paperclip chain around your wrist to make a bracelet. “Not a vendetta. A prevention service for the Parisian government. Snyder holds a virus on his laptop that, if released onto the broadband servers of France, would cause nationwide blackouts and hold millions of people’s information hostage.”
Jack’s face soured at the thought. “Oooh, okay, yeah, so not an angry ex-girlfriend. Got it.”
“We’ve had Riley coding a USB drive that, once plugged in, can give her access to the computer’s system. That way she can corrupt the virus so that when he tries to open it, none of the code will be salvageable. The only thing our team needs to worry about is getting that drive plugged into Snyder’s computer for 8 minutes without him noticing.” 
Another scoff came from Jack. “No offense, Matty, but this guy seems like the kinda nerd to be obsessed with his computer. He’s probably one of those weirdos who treats it like his baby or something.” He immediately turned to Riley who had her computer in her lap. He pressed his lips together and stood up, walking towards the other wall to get as far away from Riley as possible. “I’m just gonna shut up now.”
“Yeah, smart choice.”
“The plan, if you guys will ever let me get to it, is this: Is to send in (Y/N) with a partner to pose as our unhappy couple, Bryan has a stay booked with a casino in Monaco this weekend. It’s his last stop on the way into France. A messy breakup in the middle of the casino should be enough to pique Snyder’s interest, and from there all (Y/N) has to do is get him to take her to his hotel room so she can connect the USB to his laptop, which shouldn’t be so hard given his M.O. After 8 minutes, once Riley’s USB has done its job, (Y/N) will take it out and destroy it so it’s not traceable.” Matty pressed her lips together firmly when she noticed Mac shifting his stance and uncrossing his arms, which normally meant that he had something to say. “Can I help you Blondie?”
Mac took the opportunity and stepped forward. “Why don’t we just send in Riley? If the USB doesn’t work, she’ll be able to disable the virus manually. Plus,” a strong look of disdain settled on his face, “I don’t think (Y/N) can flirt convincingly enough to get him to take her back to his room. It’s dangerous to put the weight of a mission on it without a backup.” 
That got you mad. You stood and eyed Mac in his stupid power stance. His hands on his hips while he stared at the screen as if he was avoiding eye contact with you. You wondered where all of his confidence had suddenly gone.
“Oh? You don’t think I can handle it?” You took a confident couple steps towards Mac. A well-placed hand on his forearm brought his big blue eyes back to you, somewhat confused as to what you were doing but it didn’t seem as if he was going to stop you. 
You took his silence as permission to continue and slid your hand down his arm, bringing your free hand up to play with the suede lapel of his jacket near his chest. You lifted your eyes to meet his for a single, shy moment and couldn’t help the way your cheeks flushed. Who thought it was a good idea to give a man with such a perfect face those baby blues? Fuck.
Mac was malfunctioning, his jaw slack as he tried to focus on anything other than how close you were to him. Or the fact he could feel your breath on his neck, or the way your hands held him. Tantalizing and unobtainable. He was sure if either of you did anything in the oncoming moments he’d find himself too deep to back out. 
You slid the fingers fiddling with his jacket past his chest to his abdomen, felt the shiver run up his spine even though he tried his best to hide it. Your fingers reached his beltline with more confidence than you felt, and…there was a undeniable tension. One that left you wondering if perhaps you should excuse yourself and drag Mac into some unoccupied office down the hall. 
A quick smack below the belt and Mac was half-keeled over, gasping for air as you stepped aside with a prideful smirk. “That convincing enough for you?” 
The rest of the team broke into laughter, the sexual and uncalled for tension that was in the room had gone.
“The Macbook needed to reboot there for a moment huh,” Jack said patting your shoulder. “You’ll do just fine, and your mission partner will be there as your backup, you can trust them 
Matty just pulled on that subtle smirk she wore when she knew something was bound to be entertaining. “Well, glad you’re working on your chemistry, because Mac is your mission partner. Try not to cause a scene before the target gets there, though. Wheels up in 2 hours.”
Mac had finally been able to gather himself and recover from the unexpected tap. “Let’s just hope you’re ready for 2 to be playing that game.”
A/N: Thank You guys for reading! I am thinking about making another part about the actual mission or what the aftermath would look like for your and Mac's relationship.
A/N: Remember I'm always open to talk to people (18+) about MacGyver! I love the fandom and want to interact as much as possible. If your interested don't be afraid to shoot me a message!
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nade2308 · 4 months
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The result of watching MacGyver reruns on TV and catching feelings (can you tell this happened after rewatching 5x05?)
@thethistlegirl
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sun-ni-day · 3 months
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~~ I never got over those blue eyes ~~ ~~ I see them everywhere ~~ ~~ I miss those arms that held me ~~ ~~ When all the love was there ~~
MacGyver 5x05 Jack + Kinematics + Safe Cracker + MgKNO3 + GTO
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groovybun-png · 4 months
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OOC lucky luke doodles
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mayfieldss · 4 days
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12 hours - Angus Macgyver
Synopsis: when you are taken hostage, Mac has to figure out a way to find you, though with feelings involved it's not like any other case.
Warnings: violence, kidnapping, mentions of blood, torture/drugging, angst, fem!reader
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You're front door flung wide open was Mac's first warning. The lack of your presence in the home was his second.
When he'd arrived with coffee in one hand, and his car keys in the other he hadn't expected it, and as a frown set deep into his features, the hairs rose on the back of his neck.
His voice rang out, oddly loud in the empty house, only to hear no answer back from you. Silence, from every room. Mac wouldn't have been so concerned had you been different people entirely, but you weren't, and what you did for work warranted a need to watch your back at every corner. Mac wasn't so good at watching his own back, but watching yours had always been his specialty, which is why the fact he didn't see this coming, cut so deep.
The broken lampshade in the living room, and the crimson that had long ago soaked into the carpet brought more fears to Mac's mind than he could count, and the speed at which he raced around the house looking for you was unmatched to any pace he'd set before. The first phone call he made was to your cell, which rang in the upstairs bedroom without you to answer it. The second was to Jack, who picked up after the third ring with an irritated groan.
"It's eight in the morning man, what d'you want?"
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"Listen, you gotta calm down. You can't think straight when you're like this, and we need that big brain of yours if we want any chance of finding her." Jack has a calloused hand placed firmly on Mac's shoulder as they stand in your empty bedroom. Mac doesn't need a reminder on the importance of staying calm. It's how he's survived his whole life, how he's managed to keep Jack alive to this day, and how he's managed to save you more times than he can count.
But he isn't calm, at least not now. Mac's gaze is locked on the top drawer of your dresser, where you'd allowed him to move in some of his things the month before. Some trinkets, a few shirts, though he can see one of them strewn on the floor in the corner after a rushed discard of it in this very room a few nights before.
"Did I ever tell you we were moving in together?" his voice comes quiet, distracted as his eyes scan over the room. Before he can spiral further Jack's hold on Mac's shoulder grows tighter and he spins the blonde around to face him
"Quit using that past tense bullshit." The man snaps his fingers, loud, in Mac's face, cutting through the harsh thoughts running rampant in his mind. "Y'all are moving in together whether you like it or not, and when we get her back, you better start packing your shit."
Mac can feel the pain welling in his chest, before he pulls himself out of Jack's hold. He takes one deep breath in and holds it for a moment, the air in his lungs one thing he can control. And then he's focused enough to think, and to plan. He's ready to find you.
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You can feel a dampness on your clothes, and while you're unsure if it's water or sweat, it brings a coolness to your skin. There's a sound akin to dripping somewhere to your left, and faint traffic in a direction you can't quite make out. It's dark, and it stays that way even after you open your eyes.
You're not at home anymore, that much is clear, but you're not alone either, and as your eyes adjust to the black you can make out the picture of a figure before you, leant against the wall in waiting.
"Tired?" it asks, voice full of enjoyment. A sharp plastic digs into your wrists, and if you were to hazard a guess, cable ties would be the closest you could get to what was restraining you.
You don't respond to whoever sits across from you, and despite the fear begging you not to, you close your eyes again.
Faking sleep is better than being forced into it by a harsh hit to the head, something you assume happened earlier by the aching you feel. And it's certainly better than torture or interrogation—something you can see coming from a mile off.
"No, no, I don't have the patience for games." The voice has come closer, though you hadn't heard the footsteps, but before you can even out your breathing, sell the lie, your nervous system forces you awake. Water, ice cold, covers every inch of your body, weighing you down as you gasp from its contact.
Your eyes are open again, and you can see your captor, which isn't any luck on your part. It's almost a definite that you'll be disposed of now, once all is said and done.
A singular light is on above you, a bright, irritating presence. And now, as you cast your gaze to your surroundings, you see the various tools displayed on a tray across the room. A scalpel winks at you, as do many other shiny metals.
You wish you'd never woken up.
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Mac sits in the war room alone, scanning through security the footage Riley had gathered hours ago. He can't see a thing—or rather, he can't see you—in any of the frames.
On the quiet Suburban street where you lived, cameras weren't needed. Which rendered almost every tape Riley had pulled from the systems closer to town useless. And the more Mac looked through each one, his eyesight began to blur. Perhaps the footage wasn't the problem. Maybe it was Mac himself.
Angus MacGyver had never not had an idea in his life. He was a quick thinker and always had been. Yet, here he was—trapped in the large expanse of a government owned building and surrounded by technology that should have been assisting him—with no plans worth speaking aloud.
Mac found himself standing from his chair, heart beating at a furious pace. It was as though he couldn't get air into his lungs, and the breaths he did take seemed to burn, his anxiety acid to his insides.
He can hear his own gasps for breath in his ears, frantic and rapid, and for a moment, he thinks he might be dying. He can see his phone light up on the rooms center table, next to the bowl of paperclips, now half empty. But the phone makes it all worse, as with the notification and the device lighting up, he can see you.
Trapped in the phone, you sit grinning on a couch, Mac beside you with your legs in his lap. The lock screen is a moment in time, yet he can still remember everything that happens after. He remembers Bozer snapping the picture, and can recall his own hands, pulling you into his lap moments later. Mac remembers you, laughing into his lips, tasting of beer, and the icing from Jack's birthday cake. It feels like his chest is shrinking now as he sinks into the memory, mind sucking him into it before pushing him back out into the now. He doesn't know where you are, if you're alive or dead, and the burn of panicked tears comes quickly. His gasps increase in volume as he slides down the wall to the floor, and with the blood pumping hard in his ears, he can hardly hear the door open.
"Woah, woah, Mac!" Jack is on the floor with him in moments, a firm grip on both his shoulders. "Breathe man, in and out."
Mac tries, he really does, but everything inside him spills over. He's an overflowing sink and it's so unlike him, as if grief has taken hold long before he can confirm he's lost you for good.
"I don't know where she is, Jack." There's anger in his words, fear forcing it out of him, and in his peripheral, he can see Riley and Maddy in the doorway.
"I know, man. It's tough, but we're gonna find her." Jack's support does nothing to soothe him, and Mac finds himself pushing the man back, scrambling to his feet.
"Really, Jack? Because it doesn't feel like it. We don't even know how long she's been missing. How long did it take before I even realized she was gone?" Mac has forced himself to face the window, as if he can hide himself—his pain, no matter how clear it is—from his coworkers. His friends.
"Mac, this isn't on you. There's no way you could have known what was about to happen." It's Maddy, though Mac still refuses to face her. He can hear someone step forward, and by the rustle of a leather jacket, he knows it's Riley.
"This was never your fault, Mac."
"I didn't know she was missing. I should have known." He can hear the crack in his own voice as he tortures himself from the inside out. And then he yells, an agonizing sound full of anger and resentment as he turns, swinging his hand out to knock the glass bowl of paperclips to the ground. It shatters, as does Mac, and his friends rush to hold him up before he can fall.
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Maddy sends him home after that, though that doesn't stop his racing train of thought. Bozer orders him take out that he can't bring himself to eat, and he waits for you, as if by pure will he can cause you to form in the doorway.
He tried to wrap his head around who would have taken you, but the list of suspects is too long. Was it revenge on you they were seeking, or was the plan to cause Mac pain in this very way? Was it something to do with the foundation as a whole or one singular person? Every mistake Mac has ever made forms in his mind, but none of them fit with the story he's put together.
The open door, the blood on the carpet, the broken household items. Your phone left behind, coffee pot empty as you waited for Mac to arrive. Your bed wasn't made, and Mac could picture the day you would've had had things gone right. It's dark out, but Mac can't sleep. he stands, and despite Maddy's orders, leaves the house.
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You're cold, shivering in a shirt that isn't yours. It's one of Mac's, checkered and blue, paired with pajama shorts that do nothing to conserve your body heat. But having something of his right now gives you comfort, a reminder that he will be looking for you.
The room has looked the same for all the hours you've spent within it, and you have no concept of time in its confines. Whether it's night or day, you can't tell, but no one told you that the scariest part of being held captive, sometimes is the fact that you don't know how long you have been.
When you see the man again, your vision is blurred and you can hardly bring yourself to speak. There's something in your bloodstream now, a drug given to you by the stranger, that keeps you weak. A hallucinogenic that makes it almost impossible to decipher what is real and what is not.
"Do you remember me?" the stranger calls. He's organizing his tools across the room, black gloves making gentle sounds with each movement.
It's hard to breathe, let alone to speak. "No."
You're sure that's not the answer the man wants, but it's the truthful one you can give to him. You can hear his footsteps now and they echo loud in your eardrums, increasing the headache you already have.
"Think a little harder. Look at me, go on."
You raise your head, though it feels too heavy for your neck, and do as he says.
"Do you remember now?" there's a lack of emotion in his features, like he's made of metal and wires beneath the skin that pulls him together. But you can't put his face into full focus. Maybe it's the drugs, or the tears of frustration that pull themselves to the front of your eyes, but you can't remember seeing a face like his.
"No." It's a struggle to keep eye contact, but you hold out. "I don't remember a single thing about you."
The man lets out a grunt—at least that's what you make it out to be—before wandering back to his cart of metal devices. They're all surprisingly clean, and in between the items, you can see a syringe. A fresh dose of whatever drug you're already pumped full of.
You think the man is going to reach for it, but instead he picks up one of the many other tools. It's sharp, and you can tell it's going to hurt.
"Here's someone we both remember. Angus MacGyver. Does that ring any bells for you?" he's brought the knife, if you can call it one, over to your side, but you flinch at Mac's name more than the cool touch of the metal.
"Who?" You can hardly keep your head up, but if there's one thing you won't do, it's betray the man you love the most.
The knife stings as it digs into your bicep, and burns further as it's dragged all the way down to your forearm. There are tears and screams that leave you along with it, but you doubt anyone can hear. The sleeve of Mac's shirt has been torn in the wake of the cut, and your blood will stain the fabric forevermore.
"Angus MacGyver," the man speaks the name again once your screams have subsided to mere whimpers. "now, a little birdy told me a secret about you and him. D'you wanna know what it is?"
"I don't know any man by that name." You're curled in on yourself as far as you can go with your hands restrained behind you, the pain unbearable as it courses through your arm.
"Forgive me if I'm overstepping here, but you don't look like the kind of woman to buy oversized men's plaid." He tugs at the fabric of your shirt, pulling you back to sit upright. "There is of course, this too."
Slowly, you peel your eyes open. The man has pulled his own chair up to sit in front of you. It's made of old, splintering wood, and you don't understand how you hadn't seen it before. In his gloved hand, he holds a picture. Printed on glossy paper is an image of you and Mac, and unhelpfully, the photo has captured him, kissing you as though his life depends on it. Which he did often.
You're stood in an alleyway, Mac's hands gripping you tight as your own are tangled to great lengths in his hair. Next, the man shows an image of Mac, seated on a barstool with you in his lap. You both hold half empty beers with grins wide on your faces. You are shown picture after picture of you and Mac together, holding hands, kissing, laughing, and even fighting, all taken from some unknown point of view. But the last photo is one you recognize. It's shows Mac in the same blue check shirt you wear now, holding you close. He's looking down at you in the picture with the utmost affection, whilst you send a toothy grin to the camera. The photo is aged, with fuzzy edges, well loved just like the people it holds. It's the photo that has sat on your bedside table for years, and now it lies in the hands of someone who doesn't deserve its memories.
"Now we're all caught up, let's talk about our mutual friend." He's picked up the knife again, your blood still dripping from the blade.
"I don't know that man." you don't know why you're persisting when all the evidence lies in front of you on hard concrete flooring. You're buying time at best.
"Well you know his tongue at least. What, with it having been down your throat and all."
You don't respond to that, and a laugh escapes the dimly lit figure in front of you. He's moved back to his cart, eyeing up each and every violent item he could use to pull the words he wants from you.
"MacGyver knows me, even if you don't." The man picks up a cloth and wipes your blood from his gloves. His pace is slow, teasing. "He's a hard man to hurt, with no mother, father, siblings. So how do I get my leverage?"
The silence presses down on the both of you, and he's waiting for something. His eyes cast over you expectantly in a way that makes your skin crawl.
"Do you wanna take a guess?" He asks finally, brandishing now a new weapon, this one worse than the last. You don't answer, head sinking down in defeat, the drugs are wearing off, but you're still tired, and the feeling of your own blood flooding out of you isn't easy to handle.
The man takes his seat again, with the new blade in one hand and syringe in the other. "Men like him are weak for the women they love."
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Mac had ducked under crime scene tape many times in his life, but doing so to enter your house was something he had never done before. It was dark in every room, Mac fumbling his way up the staircase in the black. He knew his way around the place by now, and he'd slammed into every door throughout his years of being your lover. He could probably recall how his back felt pressed to the wood of each one, whilst you kissed him fiercely, from memory.
When he makes it to your bedroom he reaches for the light switch, the bright yellow making everything clear. Your bedsheets, creased and pushed to the edge of the mattress, some of your clothes in a pile on the chair. Mac hadn't noticed before though, the empty picture frame on the bedside table. He can't remember a time when the frame wasn't taken up by his favorite picture of you, and now the lack of it jars him.
He's moves fast once it registers, and picks it up delicately. The frame is perfectly in tact, but it lacks the presence of your smile within it and it doesn't take long for Mac to race his newfound evidence to the phoenix foundation. When he arrives, what should be a dark, lifeless building, is lit up with people bustling about inside. The doors are unlocked and Mac isn't stopped on his way down to the lab like he thought he would have been.
"Hey, Mac!"
Jack. It's always Jack.
"Maddy sent you home amigo." He catches up fast, chasing Mac down the hall, though Mac can't stop. He slips into the elevator hoping to leave Jack behind, but the man pushes his way inside right after him. "What you got there?"
Mac has the lightest hold on the object in his grasp, afraid to damage what little information could save your life. "It's a picture frame, from Y/N's. Whoever took her could have taken the picture that was inside." It sounds so inconsequential when he says it out loud, the 'could have' in the sentence echoing out.
"So you're thinking you can check the thing for fingerprints." Jack confirms, nodding as the doors to the elevator open up to the lab floor. Bozer and Riley sit at one of the desks, scanning through what looks to be even more security footage.
"Mac," Riley's eyes are wide, and Mac can tell by the way she's scanning over him that he doesn't look well. His hair is disheveled from how many times his hands have anxiously raked through it, his eyes tired yet somehow wide awake. "We didn't think you'd be back till tomorrow."
Mac doesn't answer but instead places the frame down on the table. "We need to check the fingerprints on this, now."
But before any of them can make a move to do so, Bozer takes a sharp breath.
"Jack, you need to get Mac out of here." His eyes are fixed to the computer screen in front of him, and when Riley slides her wheeled chair over to peek at screen, she stands abruptly.
"What? What is it?" Mac pushes forward, but Riley blocks his view.
"Mac, I really don't think you should see this." She's placed her hands on his chest, trying to coax him backward, and without need for explanation, Jack grasps onto Mac's shoulders. He's trying to tug him out of the room, Mac realises.
"If you've found something, I deserve to know what."
Jack's fingers dig deep into Mac's shoulder blades, grounding him to the spot. "I don't know what they've found either, brother, but if they think you shouldn't see it, I stand by 'em." He tries to guide Mac away again, and the look on Riley's face tears him apart. Her brown eyes hold sympathy and a kind of fear he had yet to see from her.
"Riley," Mac's voice is surprisingly steady considering the waves he feels inside. "Just tell me one thing. Is she dead?".
She looks over at Jack, and they exchange silent words, though, Mac can't tell what exactly they are. "I don't know, Mac. I don't know."
There are tears that well in Bozer's eyes when Mac glances to him, and in a second, he's broken free from Jack's loosening grasp. He slips past Riley toward the computer, and he's choked for air the second he sees it.
It's a video file, sent to Bozer's email, currently paused. In the frozen image, you sit slumped in a chair, the rest of the room dark around you. There are cuts and bruises littered on every inch of skin that Mac can see in the dim light, and behind you, pinned to the wall is a collage of photos. Mac can just make it out from the blurry footage, the picture that had once been in the frame beside him stuck right in the center, above your limp body.
"Play the video, Bozer."
Mac can all but whisper it, his voice caught in the silence that lies between every pair of lungs in the room.
Bozer does as he's told despite hesitation and shaking heads from both Riley and Jack, and in moments, the footage is rolling.
Gravely words come from somewhere behind the camera, anger within them, and a kind of amusement too.
"She's not dead. I know that's what you're thinking. But she's not. Yet. Every cut was carefully placed, painful, yes, but not immediately fatal. She's losing blood, Macgyver. So it won't be long. 12 hours. Trace the email if you want. Take the easy way out. I won't be here either way. For what it's worth, I hope you don't make it in time. Then you'll know how I felt."
The audio cuts out, and the video comes to an abrupt end, the screen embraced in black.
Mac allows himself time to stand there, to think it over. His hands shake as he runs one through his hair, and he feels Jack's grasp on him once more. Mac flinches, a rage once unknown to him boiling in his stomach.
"You were right," he says finally, cutting through the quiet. "I shouldn't have seen it."
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Thanks to Riley, Mac knows exactly where you are in minutes. He doesn't give the others time to stop him once he knows, and he's never raced down the Phoenix halls quite so fast.
He's burning rubber on the drive over, and when he finally makes it to the abandoned subway station, he doesn't think about the danger he's in. It's clear whoever has you really wants him, and he has nothing but an army knife on his person. Not that that had ever stopped him before.
He runs down every passage and checks every maintenance room he can find, tripping his way down every staircase. The hallways echo and groan, and with every sound he flinches, wondering if it could be you.
When Mac reaches the end of the station, he's at a loss for words. You're not here, or maybe he's missed something. Maybe Riley was wrong. He crouches down in defeat at the end of the tunnels, head bowed and breathless. He doesn't know why he does it, but he shouts, voice hoarse and dry. He's done a lot of that over the past day, even though he doesn't have the time to. His own voice echoes back to him, bouncing off of every surrounding wall. It sings down the tunnels and into the darkness, and it's all Mac has left. He leaps off the platform and onto the tracks, daring to walk down with only the light of his phone to guide him. The subway no longer runs, the tracks dusty after years of no use, yet it still seems dangerous.
Mac scans his phone's torch light over every crumbling wall, more than one rat squealing as they run from his fast-paced steps. He dares to call your name into the darkness over and over, hoping the sound of you will be a guiding light. He's hopeful, and with that hope comes pain. He doesn't hear you shout back like he prayed you would, even when he does so again and again.
Silence. Other than his own steps and the sound of his desperate breaths. Silence. Other than the crunch of dirt and debris under his boots. Silence. Other than the scream. The scream that finally echoes down the tunnel, pounding Mac at full force. Silence. Other than the sound of you.
His name echoes out of the black, your voice pulling him into a sprint as Mac continues to call to you, begging for your answer. He's closer now, close enough to hear your sobs behind the stone. You're behind the walls, Mac realizes, and he can't find the way in.
He's pummeling the solid rock, as if with his fists alone, he can break it. There's nothing he can use to help him, unlike many missions before. He's improvising with himself and himself only.
There is blood on Mac's knuckles from each slam of his fists when he decides to try a different approach. The bones in his hands still ache as he slides his palms along the wall, pushing on every crack he can find in the dark. He calls to you again, just to make sure you're still with him. Still alive. But this time you don't answer. It feels as though his heart may be constricting in his chest, like the ribcage that holds every important part of him has shrunk two sizes. He calls out again and is met with another round of quiet.
When Mac feels air, cold against his hand he knows he's found it. The way to you. He pushes hard against the stone that blocks his path, and the weight on his chest decreases, if only for a moment. And then he's in yet another tunnel, though this time he can see a light at the end. It's dim and seems to fade in and out as he moves. And when the tunnel opens out into a room Mac has never seen, the light sits like a halo above your drooped head. You're covered in patches of red. Blood, some dry, and some still dripping from the open parts of you.
"Hey, baby, can you hear me?" Mac is now knelt at your feet, Swiss army knife slicing easily through the ties that bind you. He fears for the worst when he places three fingers against your neck, checking for a pulse that is there, but weak. With every touch Mac's hands become coated in a new layer of your blood, warm liquid coming from behind ice cold skin.
"That's it, open those eyes." His voice is soft as you begin to stir, fear layered beneath his quiet tone, and Mac is tearing up his shirt in seconds for fabric to bind your wounds.
For a moment, he allows his gaze shifts to the wall behind you, where hundreds of photos seem to be pasted to the wall. Along with the one from your bedroom, the pictures contain nothing but you and Mac together. Every date night, fight and hidden moment not so private anymore.
Your eyes are open now, though your gaze is foggy, and Mac watches the tears run silently down your cheeks. He's trying his best to stop the bleeding of every cut and gash in your skin, and forces himself to focus entirely on the movements of his hands.
"You know, it's not as bad as it looks."
Mac is moving frantically to preserve what should be inside of your body when you say it, and when he looks back up at you, your eyes have closed again.
"Eyes open baby," He squeezes your hand as he continues to work, "keep them open for me." It's occurring to Mac now that he can't possibly cover all of your wounds, and that soon, he's going to have to carry you out of the room, whether you're bleeding or not.
"When were you gonna tell me you have a bunch of holes in you, huh?" He tries to send you a smile with the joke, but his voice cracks midway through the words.
"oh, I didn't notice." your chest rises hard with what Mac hopes to be a laugh, though a pained one. "I'm sorry for getting blood on your shirt."
"Shirts', plural" Mac corrects, gesturing to the pieces of fabric he has now wrapped around your wounds. "But don't worry about that, c'mere."
He's up on his feet now, and reaches out to pull you into his arms.
It's hard, and the howl of agony that leaves you in your attempt to stand is piercing, even with all of your weight held up by Mac. You're panting heavily, even after the majority of the pain has subsided, and Mac feels guilty about the next step in his pitiful plan.
"Just keep breathing, honey." his grip on you is tight, despite the fact his fingers press down on your injuries. "I'm going to pick you up, okay? On the count of three, bridal style."
"I was hoping we could save that for the wedding." The joke doesn't quite land, considering the sobs you mutter it through, but Mac forces a chuckle anyway. He adjusts his hold on you, placing a kiss to your temple as he does.
"On three, ready?" Mac can feel you grip him tighter as he says it, and his own heart races at the thought of hurting you. "One, two—" The three is lost amongst your cries as Mac lifts you into his arms, and he doesn't flinch even as your teeth sink into his shoulder out of sheer pain. Sobs wrack your body as Mac takes the first few steps out of the room, trying to be as careful as he can.
"I know, I'm sorry, you're doing great. Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths." He knows he can't put you down now, not until you're safe and outside, but without torchlight to guide the way Mac is seeing blind. He walks with caution through the darkness, wasting time with the snails pace he takes, and just when he thinks he's going to have to re-evaluate this plan of his, go back and make a headlight from the scraps in the room, Mac hears something up ahead. The sound of many shuffling feet, conversation, and then finally the calling of Mac's name and yours. It's his friends, Jack, Riley and Bozer, with their own torches some way up the tunnel.
"We're over here!" Mac shouts, desperation breaking the notes he speaks. "I've got her, we're here!"
Mac can feel your cries of relief into his chest, and as the lights up ahead get closer, Mac can't help but shed tears too. He's relieved, and as the beams shine brighter, he spares a glance to downward. You're looking up at him when he does, gasping through your own sobs, with a smile on your lips. And he smiles back, genuinely this time.
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MACGYVER TAGLIST: @ash5monster01
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reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!
AN: I was supposed to post this two days ago for our boys birthday but that plan kinda went out the window when the doubts crept in.
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ash5monster01 · 1 year
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Scars of Our Past
Pairing: MacGyver x FemReader
Warnings: pure fluff, mentions of injury, mentions of nudity
Summary: You love every part of MacGyver, not a single part of him held an imperfection. You even find beauty in the things he thinks are the ugliest parts of himself.
word count: 563
Masterlist
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Normally you weren’t the first one up. It was usually Mac who had to pull you from the confines of your shared bed. Yet today, as the sun shone through the windows of the room, you found yourself admiring the blonde boy beside you as he continued to sleep. His hair fell messily onto the pillow, the hills of his cherry lips humming with sleep, the moles scattered like constellations across his body (including your favorite one on his neck), and the circular scar left across his pec.
Mac had told you the story connected with the wound many of times. Every time it brought up memories of heart break and betrayal and he absolutely hated that he had a constant reminder of it left on his skin. Yet to you, you viewed it as a badge a honor. Evidence that he experienced something so intense and in the end survived, and grew stronger from it. You wished he could see it that way too. Slowly you leaned over, pressing your lips to the edges scar, waking Mac in the process.
“Hey” he lazily smiled as he realized you were awake.
“Morning” you grinned back at him, lips finding his chest again.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, knowing he normally was the one to try and get you to wake up in the morning.
“Admiring your scar” you responded, not looking to lie. The flash of emotion across his face instantly showed he didn’t want to think of the imperfection.
“It’s nothing to admire doll” he began to sit up but you quickly pushed him back down. Sighing he allowed you to stop his movements, caving into your touch.
“Every piece of you is perfect Angus, including that scar” you only called Mac Angus when you were being serious. His eyes searched yours for any sense of falseness in your words.
“It just doesn’t carry any good memories” he muttered, not wanting to remind himself of one of the hundred heart breaks he’s ever experienced.
“No scar does Mac, but no matter what the good and the bad will leave an impact on us. You carry this scar to remind yourself how strong you are to move on from this” you told him, laying your head on his chest as you looked up at him.
“I will never understand how you can continue to see the good in everything considering our line of work” he smiled at you, his hand curling into you hair and brushing it out of your face.
“As long as I get to sleep in this bed with you every night, I’ll never stop seeing the good” you said before pressing one last kiss to his scar.
“Alright, give the scar a little less attention and these lips some more” he teased and you giggled as he gripped your arms and pulled you up to meet his face.
“Every part of you is beautiful MacGyver, don’t you forget it” you grinned before pressing your lips to his. His arms wrapped around you quickly, pushing your bare chest to his own. You felt like one being as you settled into the comfort of his arms and lips.
“Helps that I have someone just as beautiful by my side” he told you as you pulled away for air and you smiled softly.
“I love every part of you, I always will”
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anguishmacgyver · 8 months
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enfernalinferno · 5 months
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Drawing a duo for every day in October [Duotober] - 18/31
Click for better quality | my ask box is open for requests
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MacGyver 2x15 Murdoc + Handcuffs
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macgyverresearcher · 4 months
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Merry Christmas ~🎄
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