#macgyver fanfic

[mayfieldss]

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

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?"

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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."

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.

MACGYVER TAGLIST: @ash5monster01

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.

#macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #macgyver fanfic #macgyver 2016 fanfiction #angus macgyver fanfiction #macgyver x reader #macgyver imagines #macgyver one shot #angus macgyver fic #angus macgyver fanfic #angus macgyver x reader #angus macgyver imagine #lucas till #lucas till fanfiction #macgyver x you #angus macgyver x you #macgyver x yn #macriley #jack dalton #riley davis #macgyver 2016 fanfic #macgyver 2016 x reader #macgyver reboot #lucas till x reader #Tristan mays #the phoenix foundation

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tag list: @iobsessoverfictionalmen

Warnings: swearing

I leaned against the doorframe as I watched macgyver tinker with some project for Pete. He was mumbling to himself and seemed to be on the verge of passing out.

“Mac?” I called softly as I fully entered the room. He hummed in acknowledgment as I put my hand on his back. “How long have you been working on this?”

“Not sure. Pete needs it done by the end of the week.” MacGyver smiled over his shoulder at me. “I’m nearly done. Promise.”

“When was the last time you slept Mac?” He shrugged and reached for the screwdriver in front of him. I grabbed his hand and dragged him up. MacGyver looked at me sheepishly.

“I’m not sure.” He finally relented. I took his other hand and started to put him towards the bedroom. “It’s been a while.” I nodded and gently pushed him onto the bed.

“It’s alright. Just,” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair before stepping between his legs. “Please don’t let it go this long again. Mac it’s been two days.” His eyes widened and I started running my hand through his hair. “Yeah. Time for you to get some sleep.” He nodded and sighed at the repetitive motion. I helped him undress before getting into bed myself. MacGyver laid down next to me and I resumed running my fingers through his hair.

“going to put me to sleep…” he paused to yawn. “If you keep doing that.” I laughed and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“that’s the point.” I teased as he curled up against me. Within minutes he was asleep and I wrapped him up in my arms. Kissing his forehead again, I let myself drift off.

#Macgyver #macgyver imagine #macgyver x reader #macgyver fanfic #macgyver fanfiction #richard dean anderson x reader #richard dean anderson #richard Dean Anderson fanfic #Richard Dean Anderson fan fiction #Richard Dean Anderson imagine

[telltaleclerk]

New MacDalton Fic

It's been a while. But the responses to that post from the other day, and some chatting with @frozenmemories1987 got me on a MacDalton kick again. So I wrote a little get together fic. Nothing fancy or long, just something fun.

#macdalton #macgyver #macgyver fanfic #my writing #my fanficion

[tilliwriteapine]

was like "gonna finish this scene then go to bed"

and then Mac decided to word vomit ALL OVER the page - and now I'm stuck trying to dig myself out of this hole to get the scene over with.

Thank god for fanfic notes I wrote 4+ years ago!

#lmao the writers life I don't miss #but fuck if this isn't amazing #I am WRITING!!!! #MacGyver fanfic

[dinosaurswant2rule]

I saw the spiffing gif by the ever brilliant @levy-tran and they reminded me of MacDesi day 2023!!!

So therefore I've update a bunch of my Mac/Desi fics :D

Please comment, tell me what you think, these two will always have a place in my heart

For those who haven't read it, Mac wakes up in a world where he has become Murdoc, this is whump heavy so if not your bag, I suggest you skip!

@macdesiprompts

@macdesigifs

@lunar-beauty

@giallos

@swiftletinthecloud

#macgyver #angus macgyver #emotional whump #desi nguyen #desi and mac #whump #torture #body swap #murdoc being evil #broken bones and blood #bruises #evil medical staff #Mac being locked away #Desi bringing Mac home #teamphoenix #macdesi day 2023 #levy tran #lucas till #macgyver fanfic #macgyver fanfiction #although the latest is about desi #there's lot of team stuff too #being suffocated #Mac hates masks #Riley Davis #Wilt Bozer

[waitingforthestarstofall]

WIP Wednesday 9.7.22

From the fic that never ends…I started writing it not knowing what it was ☺️😆

His phone buzzed in his back pants pocket. Keeping his weapon in his grip, he blindly fished it out. Riley’s photo lit up the screen. He slid his thumb across to answer.

“Riley? What’s going on?” He asked, intentionally keeping his voice low despite the alarm. He shifted his grip on the phone to click the “up” volume button and hoped it would be enough.

“Bozer flipped a breaker plugging Sparky in and it tripped the entire system."

“That damn robot....” He drawled into the receiver, ready to go into a tirade about how they were probably only months away from the robot apocalypse starting, when he heard Riley sigh. “Can’t you boopity boop it?“

“Resetting the system now. It should be back —" the electric whirring sound of the power booting up interrupted. “Now. Sorry for the red alert. You know how funky this bunch is in the lab.”

Riley chuckled oddly, then abruptly cut the call.

“Riley?” His blood ran cold. She’d said their personal code word: funky bunch. This wasn’t a drill. It was real. The building and internal communication was compromised.

Tagging: @impossiblepluto @nativestarwrites @nade2308 @thethistlegirl @amandagaelic @disappearinginq and/or anyone who wants to play!

#wip wednesday #macgyver fanfic #writerly things

[system-of-cells-interlinked]

Found in my drafts of the last year an unfinished thing about Jack completing a mission in Sweden and then he has some free time and decides to go visit the memorial built for Cliff Burton there and that might have been the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written.

#macgyver #macgyver fanfic #jack dalton #it's a shame I'll never see it finished though

[ash5monster01]

It's Only Fair

Pairing: MacGyver x Reader

Warnings: nothing but fluff

Summary: There is a new mailman that keeps switching up you and your neighbor, Macgyver's mail.

word count: 600+

a/n: this is my very first, very short, Macgyver imagine I ever wrote. I’m in the process of moving some of them from my original wattpad to here, to find a broader audience. I hope you enjoy x I know it’s not very good, I was seventeen when I wrote it

Masterlist

The cool breeze from outside drifted in the house and gave it a light glow. The weather had been absolutely gorgeous the past few days, warm with a light breeze paired with it. It was what caused you to open all the windows and allow it to flood the home. With the day off from work you spent your time in the kitchen, enjoying the breeze, and baking for what felt like the first time in months. Just as you started pulling out some cookies from the oven the doorbell sounded throughout the house.

"Come in!" you called out as you shut the oven with your foot and started to walk towards the opposing counter to set the trays down.

"Wow it smells great in here" you looked up to spot your blonde neighbor standing in the entry way of the kitchen, holding up a stack of mail. "The new guy gave me your mail again"

"I think he's doing it on purpose now" you chuckled and he smiled and nodded as he walked further in and set it on the counter. You quickly removed the oven mitts and grabbed the stack.

"Well that or he really has no clue he's mixing it up" Mac suggested and you nodded as you shuffled through some bills which honestly could've stayed at his house.

"Well we can't totally complain. We've lived next to each other for years and I finally know your name from the amount of times I've received your letters" Mac laughed at the comment as you set the mail down.

"Yeah I definitely can't complain" Mac's gaze hardened on you and you struggled to keep your composure. The suggestive look in his ocean blue eyes made your skin crawl.

"Would you like some cookies. I've been bored baking all day and I think I should start offering before I gain five pounds" you moved over towards the cookies to distract yourself from the close proximity between you and the oddly handsome neighbor.

"Bored baking?" Mac questioned as he leaned against the counter. You shrugged as you started to cool one off to hand to him.

"It’s a thing, trust me. It keeps me occupied" you said handing the now cooled and gooey cookie to the boy, he rose his eyebrows as he grabbed it from your hand. Slowly he took a bite out of it and then smiled. "What?"

"Nothing it's just this cookie is really good. Better than Bozer's but don't tell him I said that" you chuckled and grabbed one for yourself as he finished his.

"Well then I guess I did something right?" Mac brushed his hands on his pants and stared at the gorgeous girl beside him and he wondered how he had never noticed you before. If he was being completely honest, two weeks ago he practically camped out on his front porch to corner the new mail man and tell him to keep mixing up your mail. It was the perfect excuse to keep coming over and seeing you.

"Well now that you've let me try one of your delicious cookies how about you try one of my delicious dinners?" your eyes widened as you looked up at the boy. He offered a small smile, the dimple in his left cheek catching your attention.

"And what makes them so delicious?" a smirk graced your lips as you looked up to him and he chuckled softly.

"I have a secret weapon named Bozer" a large laugh fell past your lips at his answer and when your laughter quieted down he looked at you just like he did before. "So what do you say?"

"Well, I mean it's only fair"

Taglist: @mayfieldss

if you want to be tagged in upcoming Macgyver fics please let me know <3

#macgyver imagine #macgyver imagines #angus macgyver x reader #macgyver x femreader #macgyver x reader #macgyver x you #angus macgyver #angus macgyver x femreader #macgyver 2016 fanfiction #macgyver 2016 #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver fic #macgyver requests #macgyver #macgyver smut #lucas till x reader #lucas till imagines #lucas till x femreader #lucas till imagine #lucas till fanfiction #lucas till #lucas till headcanons #lucas till fanfic #lucas till fic #jack dalton #matty webber #wilt bozer #riley davis #mac x reader #macgyver headcanons

[aceoflights]

Absolutely love when fanfic writers adapt the naming conventions of the media they're writing for

#And these are just some i found when i didn't even look for that long #if you got more examples please share #leverage #leverage: redemption #leverage redemption #macgyver #hannibal #ao3 #fanfic #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanfic titles

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: When Jack gets a call from an old friend, Matty Webber, telling him about a job opportunity with an organization called ‘DXS’, he isn’t sure what to expect. What he doesn't expect is being hired as the partner of the top agent - also the son of Director James MacGyver. Jack navigates getting to the bottom of what’s going on with his new partner when it seems like what looked like arrogance and nepotism might be something more dangerous. Along the way Riley and Bozer are brought in to Operation Investigate Our Boss to try and get to the bottom of what’s wrong and DXS and who is to blame.

Author: @altschmerzes

#official fic poll #haveyoureadthisfic #pollblr #fanfiction #internet culture #fandom culture #fanfic #tumblr polls #fandom poll #true north #macgyver

[mayfieldss]

Boyfriend!Mac x fem!reader

"We're supposed to be working." Your voice is muffled on Mac's lips, his kiss covering the words you speak like a blanket. He's a distracting man, and you a distracting woman.

"I know." He mumbles back, hand coming up to rest on your cheek. He also knows if Maddy caught you like this, bodies pressed together down in the phoenix lab, you'd probably be fired. But he can't help but take the risk. He hasn't had time alone with you in weeks, case after case coming through like wildfire. You're just as desperate to be with him, but you have a little more restraint.

"Okay, back to work." You sigh, pressing one final sharp kiss to the mans face. You can see the disappointment in his eyes, and he can probably catch the same in yours, but it's what needs to be done.

"I love you." He says, smile sweetening the words. You give his chest a gentle shove, and head back toward your computer, sliding into your chair.

"Don't try and butter me up MacGyver." He's moved up behind you, hands rubbing your shoulders with the softest affection and he can see your own grin in the reflection of the screen. "But I love you too."

"I knew it." He presses a kiss to the top your head before moving back to his own station, hard at work again. But he'll glance at you every few minutes, hoping to catch your eye. And when he does, he'll fall in love just a little bit more.

MACGYVER TAGLIST: @ash5monster01

#macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #macgyver fanfic #macgyver 2016 fanfiction #angus macgyver fanfiction #macgyver x reader #macgyver imagines #macgyver one shot #angus macgyver fic #angus macgyver fanfic #angus macgyver x reader #angus macgyver imagine #lucas till #lucas till fanfiction #macgyver x you #angus macgyver x you #macgyver x yn #macriley #jack dalton #riley davis #macgyver 2016 fanfic #macgyver 2016 x reader #macgyver reboot #lucas till x reader #Tristan mays #the phoenix foundation

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

YOU WILL BE BLOCKED AND REPORTED

warnings: objectification of Mac (he’s ok with it though)

AN: curse you SG-1! *shakes fist at sky* I could have done without being reminded of my crush on Richard Dean Anderson. But nooooo

I leaned against the porch railing as MacGyver worked on my car. I hadn’t asked him to but that was the kind of guy Mac was. He had heard it on the street the other day and offered to fix it, claiming he knew what was wrong with it just by the sound it was making. Who was I to turn him down?

”Everything ok?” I walked over to him and leaned against the side of my car, peering down into the intense maze that was the engine.

“Yeah.” Mac leaned back so he could look over at me. “Just taking a bit longer than I thought it would. I fixed the initial problem but there was an underlying problem that caused the actual problem.” He smiled at me as he pointed to two different spots on the engine.

“Like I know what any of that means.” I laughed. His smile grew.

“Thats why I didn’t bother explaining it in detail.” He teased. I rolled my eyes and pushed off the car.

“Jerk.” I muttered as I started to walk back to my porch. MacGyver laughed. “Did you want anything to drink?” I glanced over at the jacket MacGyver had worn over and striped off not long after he started working. I watched as he stood up and striped off his vest. I swallowed the lump in my throat as his biceps bulged briefly as he flexed unconsciously. I glanced away as he looked over at me.

“That sounds nice.” He smiled at me, wiping a hand across his forehead to get the sweat off. I nodded with a smile as he bent over the car again and got back to work.

Taking one last glance back as I reached the door, I bit my lip at the sight before me. MacGyver was fully bent over the car, one leg off the ground and shirt riding up. His pants hung low on his hips to begin with. The band of his underwear showing just above his belt. My eyes traveled a little lower before I shook myself out of it.

Walking through the kitchen, I mentally slapped myself. MacGyver was my best friend. I shouldn’t be thinking of him like that. I shouldn’t be looking at him like that. I glanced through my window to see him looking over his shoulder at me. He waved and I smiled back at him. Sometimes he reminded me of a golden retriever. Happy to be of service and be around people. Grabbing a can of soda from my fridge, I also grabbed a towel and bucket.

“Hey!” MacGyver smiled at me as I walked back out. “Was wondering what was taking you so long.” I smiled and held up the bucket.

“Figured when you were done we could wash it? That is if you aren’t too busy.” I handed him the can and watched as he leaned back to drink it.

“Not too busy.” He shook his head. “Didn’t have anything to do today.” I smiled at him. “Shouldn’t take much longer. Just a couple more things to tweak and you’ll be all set.” Nodding, I looked over at my engine.

“Just tell me there isn’t any duct tape and bubble gum holding it together.” MacGyver laughed as he shook his head.

“No. It’s all actual engine parts.” He patted my arm before setting the empty can aside. “Now if you step aside a second we can finish that up and get this thing washed.” I mock saluted and moved out of his way. Watching Mac work was amazing. I got lost in the fine movements of his fingers and couldn’t help but notice the small flexes he made as he worked. There was a small cough from next to me and I snapped out of it. “Everything ok?” I looked up at MacGyver’s face but he wasn’t looking at me. “You keep watching me and while I enjoy the attention, I can’t help but wonder why me.” Heat creeped up my neck and I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Why not you?” I shrugged as he finally looked over at me. There was a light pink across his cheeks. “I mean come on Mac! You’re you!” He gave me a small smile, his hair falling into his face. I reached over and brushed it away. “Anyone would be incredibly lucky to have you. Honestly.”

“Would you…” MacGyver bit his lip and fiddled with something in my engine before abruptly standing up. “Would you want to be that lucky person?” A big smile took over my face and I nodded before he hugged me. Then he pulled back quickly. “I’ve got grease on me.” I laughed as I tugged him back into the hug.

“So what Mac.” He laughed along with me.

“Im glad you like to look at me.” He whispered.

“Im glad you like me looking at you.”

#macgyver #macgyver x reader #macgyver fanfic #macgyver fanfiction #macgyver imagine #richard dean anderson #Richard Dean Anderson fanfic #Richard Dean Anderson fanfiction #Richard Dean Anderson x reader #Richard Dean Anderson imagine

[rosieblogstuff]

WIP Wednesday

“How about we worry about getting you patched up, first, buddy? Jack said. “Then maybe you can take a crack at ‘im after you’re able to hold yourself upright without support, huh? Your brain’s probably still all filled up with extra electricity and not thinking all right.”

“You can’t–” Mac paused as a tingling shiver ran through him. “You can’t get filled up with extra electricity. That's not a thing."

“Yeah, you sure about that? ‘Cause I know how it felt like when I played with electricity back in Shanghai and I don’t think I had nearly as much for as long.” Jack switched his firm gaze to Thronton as if determining his audience wasn’t receptive enough. “He needs a medic lookin’ at him asap, Patti.”

“I’m fine,” Mac tried, but his assertion was probably weakened by the involuntary shudder that shook through him. Thornton gave him an unamused look and waved over the tac team medic. Mac let out a huff. “I’m not the one who literally died,” he muttered. 

#macgyver 2016 #whump #fanfic #angus macgyver #jack dalton

[tilliwriteapine]

I just learned something new!

Hypoxia is a condition that results from low oxygen levels and/or inadequate oxygen delivery. Hypoxemia is neither a condition nor disease, but a sign of the problem (aka the hypoxia)

Knowing how to use either in a sentence - even more valuable!

#the shit i write #lmao #macgyver fanfic

[dinosaurswant2rule]

Mac and Desi talk as she grapples with the fact that he's reappeared after his 'death'

This is very Mac/Desi heavy - so skip if this isn't your scene

For my mac/desi peeps

#macgyver #emotional whump #whump #macgyver whump #riley davis #Wilt Bozer #Matty webber #macgyver fanfic #desi and mac #desi nguyen #mac and desi #references to torture #being blinded #being burned #grief #ghosts #mac as a ghost #dealing with grief #for my mac and desi lovers

[diamondpanter]

Macgyver fanfic idea that’s been living in my head is it worth writing?

#macgyver #jack dalton #fanfic ideas