#just Mac or Macriley?
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every four months i get the most intense surge of anger over how we were robbed of macriley. robbed blind i am so MAD
#watching tilltheworldendsx3 look after you macriley edit just to feel something#i think responsible for half the views on that video#it is so important to me#mac x riley#macgyver#riley davis#still not over the way he goes riles? when he opens the door#GET OUT OF MY HEAD
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okay so I was tagged by @lailuhhh and @rosieblogstuff and I think one other person (i am so sorry i forgor) many days ago and i am finally doing the first sentence of ten works thing. I guess the general consensus is no one knows whether or not this is for WIPs or posted things so like many others I'll just do a combo of both :D
From a wip that is uhhhh 22k and counting long, titled in my google docs as simply "fuck it desi lore," starting off strong with a sentence that I don't think is actually grammatically correct but you know what sometimes the vibes matter more than grammar and you can quote me on that:
Later, Desi will feel guilty for it.
From chapter one of Remittent Distress, we have a line that sounds like it's going to be macriley WHICH IT IS NOT- (PS she's just out on a little mini mission she's not dead or anything)
During the three days that Riley has been gone, Mac's been coping poorly.
Another chapter one first sentence, we have the first line of what's shaping up to be my next book! Cue the school intercom noise...
"Good morning Ravens, happy Tuesday, and happy first day of school!"
Next we have chapter one (not the prologue) of False Dawn, which is a WIP that keeps me up at night and makes me feel far too many emotions at once:
Bozer has a strange affinity for sending physical letters.
We have a bit of a secret fic that's up next- set in Tender Mercies universe, except this is set approximately 10 years in the future from Aground, the most recent fic in the series.
Mac makes it a single step into the visitation cell before freezing on the spot.
Next up we have the first line of one of my favorite fics of mine, where we get some Sam Cage! (sam my beloved). Get ready for the first sentence of Episteme!
Samantha Cage, despite her evergrowing want to be out of the life she threw herself into, isn’t exactly sure how to stay out of it.
Okay so this is the first line at the moment, but might not be if/when I finally get around to writing the vast majority of this fic. After drafting out an entire fic on a plane ride about a year ago, I only actually fully wrote out a few paragraphs. Here's the beginning of it as of right now:
“Arriving in forty-five minutes,” comes the eventual answer through Mac’s earpiece.
Now we have the first line from Past + Fire + Present, purely because I think it's a fabulous addition to the whole point of this post (and also this does happen to be a fic that i am quite happy about how it came out). The first sentence is a little bit lack-luster though...
Hands.
Changing things up a bit, this next sentence is from my 95% finished The Martian fic that has been 95% finished for over a year at this point. I really just need to write two more paragraphs and post it at this point, but here's the start!
Sneaking out of Beck's quarters as soon as he stepped out to talk to the rest of the crew was probably not the brightest of plans, but I can’t take it back now.
And to end things off, we're going to hop back to Remittent Distress, but this time in the form of the first sentence for chapter three! (Currently working on it, fear not)
It’s to be expected.
I'm fairly certain that at this point everyone that I know has been tagged in this (and I'm also like a week or two late at this point), so if you see this, assume you're being tagged! (and also if you write your own please tag me somewhere in it so I can read your sentences :D)
#in which vi actually writes#macgyver#the martian#original fiction#in which vi thinks about writing#tag games#writing games#looking at how i start my pieces and going. ''damn girl you [write] like this?'' (derogatory)#idk man at some point i'll learn how to start pieces. that point is clearly not today though#''Hands.'' WHERE'S MY FUCKING PULITZER
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Looking Through A Window (22)
macriley married undercover au
masterlist.
*****
Mac can’t wait to go home.
He falters a step when he realizes in this instance home means the safe-house apartment, not his house back in L.A. After more than a month of living there, it has begun to feel sort of home-y, in a way, although he chalks it up to Riley’s presence more than anything else. She feels like home. And after the day he’s had, he wants nothing more than to see just how close to home he can get. Preferably naked and in their bed.
Although he did promise her a date first.
But before that happens, he needs to rescue Riley from the Patriots’ warehouse. In what might be the dumbest idea she’s ever had, Riley suggested they divide and conquer—Mac buddy up with Conrad in an attempt to get closer to Cody, Riley with Ethan to plan the current governor’s (fake) assassination. So today while Riley was stuck with a man who loathes her very existence, Mac played golf with one of the biggest pieces of shit he’s ever met. And also Conrad.
(If Conrad hated her less, they would’ve switched roles. She’s actually decent at golf. Mac is terrible.)
Lengthening his stride as he navigates the nondescript hallways toward Ethan’s office, Mac finds himself driven less by the need to rescue Riley and more by genuine excitement to see her after a day apart. Call him co-dependent, but he missed her.
The route to Ethan’s office is one of the cleanest parts of the warehouse. The concrete floors have been swept, and there aren’t crates of ammo blocking the way like there are by the closet Conrad calls his office. But “out of sight, out of mind” doesn’t apply here, and the sheer number of guns in the building makes Mac’s skin crawl with desperation to get out of there as soon as possible. At least he himself isn’t armed today. Small mercies do exist.
Hopefully the universe will have mercy on him, and Riley will be ready to leave in the next thirty seconds. Mac slides his hands into his pockets to hide his crossed fingers—a gesture he learned from Jack but only became habit after the man was gone.
Voices echo down the hall; Mac can’t yet make out what they’re saying, but an insistent tone that makes him pause just out of sight.
“You’re an exciting woman, Genevieve. I’ve never been with a woman like you,” Ethan croons. “Your husband seems like a nice guy, but I see you. I see your ambition, your drive. I’m sure you wear the pants in your relationship.”
Riley says nothing.
“I thought so.” There’s another pause, and then— “Let me show you the big leagues.”
Mac grits his teeth, hands curling into fists at his sides. He’s ready to barge in there, show Ethan just what league he belongs in, but Riley says, “I like the league I’m in, and I love my husband. And if you want my help, you’ll respect that. Goodnight, Ethan.”
She walks out of his office, eyes widening when she sees Mac, but she signals for him to follow her down the hallway without so much as a hitch in her step.
When they’re clear, Mac mutters, “Unbelievable.”
“So you heard that.”
“I heard that you love me.”
Riley slips her hand into his, interlacing their fingers. Kisses him entirely too deeply considering where they are. “That I do.” She tugs him after her.
“I can’t believe he hit on you.” Mac would love to turn around and punch that asshole, but he has no business stepping in when Riley already handled it herself.
Riley scoffs, “That’s not even the worst thing he said today.”
Mac raises his brow. “Tell me.”
“Some racist shit I’m not going to repeat.”
There’s a weight on her shoulders, in her eyes, that Mac hasn’t seen since they confessed their feelings to one another. He’ll be the first to admit he’s been hiding behind those feelings and their shiny new relationship in order to avoid the reality of the Patriots. What they’re doing. What they believe in. Because the reality is that this is a group of white men who have turned their racism into a political agenda, backed by the kind of artillery no civilian has any business having. Artillery they have no issue using in order to get their way.
It’s not lost on Mac that this assignment is far worse for Riley than for him.
“I know we talked about going out tonight,” Riley says, “but can we just go home?”
Mac is learning the best thing he can do for her is create and maintain spaces she feels safe. So that’s what he’s going to do.
Outside, he opens the car door for her. “I’ll drive,” he offers, not because it’s the man’s job to drive but because she’s been on high alert all day and deserves a chance to zone out. The least he can do is get them home safe.
Let me carry this weight with you.
She lets him.
*****
When Desi arrives on their doorstep, Mac is struck with such a wave of homesickness that he pays little mind to the smug expression on her face. Or her goading, “I see once again nothing gets done around here without my help.”
And then their overwatch waltzes in like she owns the place.
Harley comes barrelling out of the bedroom, barking at the intruder in her space. Unfazed, Desi crosses her arms and tilts her head and says to the dog, “Honestly I’m offended you forgot me.” Harley quiets almost instantly and mirrors Desi’s head tilt as she decides whether Desi should be allowed to stay. Only after giving Desi’s shoes and pants a thorough sniff does Harley return to her usual observation spot on the end of the couch. She’s allowed, then.
Riley yanks her in for a tight hug, which Desi happily returns, leaving Mac to awkwardly watch. He and Desi don’t really do hugs anymore due to the whole ex thing. Even if he missed her.
“So,” Desi says, eyes sweeping the whole apartment before fixating on Mac and Riley. How close they’re standing. The wedding rings they’ve gotten in the habit of wearing even when alone. She definitely smelled that they used the same soap when showering (unfortunately separately) this morning; Riley isn’t wearing any perfume to cover it up. He sees the gears in Desi’s mind turning and wishes he couldn’t. The grin dawning on her face is downright diabolical. “Are you two fucking yet?”
Nevermind. She is a terror, and he didn’t miss her at all.
Riley chokes. “Excuse me, I have to go change my tampon.” After she all but runs from the room, Desi turns that smug expression on Mac. “Last I checked, a little blood doesn’t faze you.”
“Last I checked, you were all about keeping things professional.”
She shrugs and proceeds to give herself a tour of the apartment. Desi eyes the plants Mac keeps forgetting to water and lets loose a surprised huh at the lack of clothes (specifically Mac’s) on the floor before turning her focus on the bed. Pillows for two, sheets pulled back on both sides. In hindsight, they probably should have made it less obvious. “You’re not fucking,” she says slowly, “but you are sleeping together.” Not a question.
“We’ve been here for over a month. No one’s back can handle that long on a couch. Besides, it’s not like Riley and I haven’t slept together a hundred times before.”
Desi smirks.
He walked right into that one.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
Desi doesn’t need to know about the condoms in the nightstand drawer. Although there’s a definite possibility she’ll go through all their stuff the moment he and Riley leave her alone in the apartment.
Or maybe not, considering Desi’s reaction after Harley sniffs through her bag and pulls out the small bottle of pain meds she has stashed. Harley brings Mac the bottle, and Desi frowns and says, “Your dog’s a narc.”
Out of habit, Mac quickly glances at the label, noticing that she’s taking the strong stuff again. He needs to keep an eye on that. When Desi isn’t looking, he gives Harley a treat.
They get straight to work planning the governor’s fake assassination once Desi settles in, mostly to prevent her from asking any more nosy questions.
Desi is much better at this than they are. In fact, one of the first things she does is tell them their plan leaves way too much room for error. That they need to account for every route the governor might take so that the sniper (her) won’t end up out of position. Sharing a look behind her back, Mac and Riley sigh as Desi proceeds to redo most of their work.
As the day passes, Harley becomes instant BFFs with Desi and, that night, even sleeps on the couch with her. Mac thinks their dog is a traitor. Especially when he catches her as the little spoon tucked snugly into Desi’s chest. He supposes they get along so well because they’re both so stubborn and bossy.
On the bright side, with Harley sleeping on the couch instead of her usual spot—in the middle of the bed, head on Riley’s stomach, ass in Mac’s face—he and Riley can actually have some alone time for the first time in, well, ever.
Of course, Riley wants to waste it by talking.
Talking.
“Do you think she knows?” Riley asks quietly, not wanting Desi to overhear. They’re both lying on their backs, not touching, which Mac thinks is ridiculous despite not being brave enough to grab her and pull her close.
“I don’t think we were that obvious, no.”
“She’s not stupid.”
“No she is not.” Believe me, Mac wants to say. I know.
“I know we agreed not to tell anyone until after this is all over, but now that Desi is here. . .” Riley trails off. “Should we tell her? It feels wrong to lie to her, of all people.”
It does feel wrong. They should be upfront about it. But no matter that the three of them are in a great place now, telling Desi will still be awkward. Mac isn’t wild about having to tell his ex that the thing she once confronted him about, years ago, did come to fruition after all. After Mac swore on his life that it wouldn’t.
Not to mention. . .
“Bozer’s feelings will be hurt if he’s not the first to know.”
Riley swears. “I don’t want to tell him over the phone. This is—” she reaches across the bed, grabs his chest— “too big for that.” Mac’s pulse skyrockets under her touch, even with his shirt between them.
“I agree.”
He needs more; her hand on his chest isn’t enough. He wants her under his skin. But since that isn’t physically possible, he settles for the next best thing: nestling her against his chest.
Her breath warm against his neck, Riley says, “If we don’t tell her, then we can’t do any PDA or anything else couple-y in front of her. Even if she figures it out, we still shouldn’t do it. It’s not fair to make her watch all that. Not when she’s stuck with us, not when she can’t leave.”
Mac recalls the time when their roles were reversed and Riley was the third-wheel roommate watching him and Desi be a gross couple. A time during which he now knows Riley harbored feelings for him. He kisses her forehead. “Are you thinking about when you were in her shoes?”
He almost misses her quiet, “Yeah.”
He holds her tighter. “I’m sorry I put you through that. If I had known. . . I wouldn’t’ve.”
“I didn’t want you to know.”
“And now?”
“Now,” Riley interrupts herself by kissing him. “I’m going to tell you I love you every day for the rest of our lives.” She checks to make sure the bedroom door is shut before straddling him, and he grips the backs of her thighs.
Good thing Desi sleeps like the dead.
*****
Electric heat runs through his veins. Her back is to his chest like it so often is, but they aren’t sleeping.
Far from it.
It’s the best dream he’s had in a long time.
His hand slips under her shirt, teasingly brushing his thumb across the underside of her breast. Only when she whimpers does he touch her with more purpose. Intent. The heady scent of her fills his nose. He can’t usually smell things in a dream, but Mac certainly isn’t complaining about it. Wanting her for so long has made him desperate to have her in any way he can. He nips at the sensitive skin below her ear, and her hips rock back into his.
He feels every inch of her against him, that tantalizing mix of soft curves and hard muscle. God, what a dream.
Fingers circle his wrist, and then she’s moving his hand down, down the smooth plane of her stomach, down to the elastic waistband of her shorts. She’s not wearing any underwear. Only the shorts.
He hears her breathless cry, then feels the very real pain of her nails digging into his forearm.
Mac’s not dreaming anymore.
He’s wide awake now, and when he opens his eyes Mac realizes his dream was not, in fact, a dream. Riley has a hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her cries as she guides his fingers over her body. Her hips grind into his, harder now. Encouraging him.
He has never in his entire life wanted something more than he wants her right now.
In the back of his consciousness, he registers nails clicking on the floor, followed by the soft sound of the front door shutting. Desi is awake and letting out the dog. They have just minutes before she'll barge in to use the apartment’s sole bathroom. Shit.
“Riles,” he murmurs, lips brushing her ear. He kisses her neck. “We can’t.”
“Just get a towel and it’ll be fine. There won’t be that much blood.”
“No, not because of that.” He removes his hands from beneath her clothes, resigning himself to finish this in the shower, alone. “I’m not fucking you when we have an audience.”
The front door again. Harley barks, demanding to be fed. Faintly, he hears Desi telling the dog to have some damn patience.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Riley groans into her pillow, and Mac strokes his fingers down her back in apology.
He scrambles to find something to say to make this better, ultimately landing on, “I could wake up every day like this.” She shivers, and he continues, “Do you know how badly I want you? Want this?”
Riley’s fist clenches around the sheets.
There’s a swift knock at the bedroom door, but before either of them have a chance to respond, it opens and Desi pokes her head in. Mac rolls away from Riley too late; there’s no way Desi didn’t see how close they were. And Riley—damn her—pretends to be asleep, leaving Mac to deal with their nosy overwatch on his own.
Desi walks in dressed for a run. She doesn’t say a word, although the look on her face says plenty, as she quickly uses the bathroom. When she emerges, she announces, “I’m going on a run and will be gone for exactly one hour. While I am cool with this—” she gestures between them, and her approval is odd to come to terms with— “I do not want to see either of your naked asses when I return. Got it?”
In translation: Do not waste this opportunity because if I catch you I swear to god I will kill you myself.
Mac bites his tongue to hold in an irreverent Yes, ma’am, fearing he’d get punched if it slips.
Something softens in Desi’s eyes as she observes the way the pillows are only squished in the middle of the bed, proof that Mac and Riley slept mere inches apart. She asks, “Do you love her?”
She asked him that question once before, but where that time was spiteful, this time is in earnest.
“I do,” he replies. “Please don’t. . . We haven’t told anyone yet.”
Desi smiles sadly. “Your secret is safe with me. That’s never changed.”
.
~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.
@annmariestuff
@bluedrew12
@dreambelievergeek
@emilyscotson
@erika-amber
@fangirlfreak08
@g3svv
@hellishrose
@holbytlanna
@ijamaica5535
@likeit-or-leaveit
@macs-paperclips
@multi-fandomshipper101
@mylifequotesshowallofthem
@nikki-1607
@orange-cat-vet
@penny114
@redjedistarfighter
@sxrein
@tall-tanned-tattoo
@thecarrieonokay
@tom-hunter-summah
@whatsabex
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I get why Mac wasn't checkin for Riley in season 1. He was still in love with Nikki. But they really tried put them in the siblings box in season 2 while Cage was "the girl next door" 🤔 Glad the writers course-corrected to make Mac and Riley endgame. I like the theory that he and Samantha are actually siblings. I know I shipped macriley before I started watching 🤭 But I do change my mind about ships. For the record I do like Cage, I just don't think she and Mac fit romantically.
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Been a while since I spoke on it, but I've been rewatching MacGyver 2016 a hell of a lot more than is really healthy, and I have to say that my mind's changed on a couple of things.
1.) Pretty sure Jack's my favorite character now, and a lot of it has to do with how much the show Flanderized the character, but besides Riley, he seemed like the most well-rounded characters.
2.) A while back on Twitter, there was a poll about the most popular characters on the show, and if I remember correctly, Mac came in third behind Jack and Riley. I fought it at the time, but after enough rewatches, I get it now, because Jack and Riley seem to be the most balanced and human characters, even with their skills.
Bozer gets an honorable mention, too.
Maybe I'm imagining things, but there are moments when Mac just comes off as really condescending, especially to Jack. I don't know if it's the writing or Till's delivery, but the more I watched it, the less I liked Mac.
That said, he still didn't deserve to be as emasculated as he was in his relationship, such as it was, with Desi in the last season.
Which brings me to the things that I HAVEN'T changed my mind on...
1.) Billy Colton's character derailment. Never gonna sit well with me, and honestly, despite the chemistry between Till and Mays, I could never get completely onboard with MacRiley, though it's still a thousand times better than MacDesi.
2.) Desi Nguyen remains one of the most unlikeable characters I've ever seen. Simple as that.
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i was tagged (technically, bc she said anyone who wants to do it lol) by the lovely @mistmarauder
Tag Game: Fandom Edition
Current Hyperfixation: 9-1-1....the hyperfixation didn't really go away during the long hiatus, it was just a bit quieter 😂 also chicago pd…i haven't started watching it but the seeds of hyperfixation that eventually get me to watch a show have started
Previous Hyperfixation: macgyver (2016)
Top 5 Ships of All Time: peter x olivia (fringe), sharon x andy (major crimes), buddie (9-1-1), auggie x annie (covert affairs), and booth x brennan (bones)
Top 5 Ships at the Moment: buddie (9-1-1), chenford (the rookie), and macriley (macgyver 2016). i don't really have any other current ships at the moment bc i haven't really been watching any new shows or actively rewatching something like fringe to really reawaken my love for polivia etc
Top 5 Fandoms of All Time: fringe, orphan black, leverage, merlin, and 9-1-1 (or at least my small corner of the 911 fandom i follow lol)
Favorite Female Character of All Time: olivia dunham (fringe)
Favorite Minor Character of All Time: dr. morales (major crimes) and maggie collins (leverage)
A Rarepair that you love: mac and frankie (macgyver 2016) i guess? is that a rarepair? i'm counting it
An OT3+ that you love: none 🤷🏻♀️
Favorite Movie: stardust
Favorite TV Series: fringe...that show imprinted on my entire being
Favorite Book: here and now and then by mike chen
First Site you Ever Read Fanfiction on: FF.net
Where You Find Most of your Fanfiction Today: Ao3
Favorite Social Media Site for Fandom: tumblr
tagging @mayasdeluca @livvydunham @captain-mayabishop @whythursdaynext and anyone else who wants to do this :)
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murdoc. pronouns. faggot. commie. blessed! :)
19, jewish, pagan, indigenous american 🪶
xenic, shifter, otherkin, syshost, autistic
i do and say whatever i want. i spread joy.
no dni, no byf, i just block if i see fit.
ao3 twt discord server
wow, you really wanna know more? ok.
summary: i kin murdoc. i am in love with macgyver. i will be annoying about how i love him, and also annoying about cassian, and also annoying about myself (murdoc!) my fav ships are macdoc and macriley. (yes, if i can't have him, then riley deserves him for sure! not to say i'd give him over willingly, lol.) i don't like desi or macdesi. dni if you are conservative, radfem, hate my favs.
i'm here to make friends !! 𓌹（ ´ཀ` ）𓌺 more
BYF i may need tone indicators. i don't like desi. i'm a macdoctor before i'm a macrilist, ok? /lh i love my comfort characters so don't shit on them. i'm also vampire kin, so if that's a trigger, feel free to block! i rb and post nsfw but i will always tag it correctly! i sometimes use emoticons and complicated formatting, but if you request it, i'll be happy to provide whatever translations or simplifications you need.
DNI ship incest or minor/adult. kin amber or nicholas helman. 🖕🏼 hardcore macdesi shippers. hate mac, riley, jack, bozer, cassian, or murdoc. OBVIOUSLY. BASIC CRITERIA — anti #free palestine, #blm or #landback. transphobic, transmed, don't believe in neopronouns or xenogenders. any radfems at all; idc if you're "trans-inclusive."
TAGS TO MUTE #🦇.txt posts by me #vent venting, ranting, etc (infrequent) #politics important politics related posts #not safe for wendy my n$fw tag, i tag it this way so that tumblr doesn't get me for it.
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Hi guys! I’ve made two different versions of a gifset: one simple and another one involving a parallel. They are quite similar, except that the second one has 2 more gifs. Should I post both or just one of them?
#MacGyver#gifs#just Mac or Macriley?#not an existential question but still haha#want to know what you guys prefer :)
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#macriley#macgyver s5#macgyver spoilers#riley davis#lucas till#tristin mays#macgyver#macrileyedit#Nope the door is still open bro#You're just so obvious with your feelings Mac.#just kiss already
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“It’s all in the wrist.”
#Just gonna…gif my favorite scenes#Don’t mind me#This is less expensive than therapy#macgyver#riley davis#macgyver cbs#macgyver 2016#macriley#angus macgyver#mac and riley#tristin mays#lucas till#4x02
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okay but important question which s4 episode gives you the strongest wtf reaction
kfdjkjkfdjkdf time to stir up drama!!!!! no other bestie i'd rather do it with though <3
s4e7 and s4e12, just off the top of my head, but i'm not 100% sure bc it's been a hot second since i've done a season 4 rewatch haha
but i mean even the title of e12: Loyalty + Family + Rouge + Hellfire pisses me off. the entire first three seasons was about how blood family is full of shit (except the daltons we love the daltons) and found family is closer and more wholesome and just generally a safer and better place to be.
and then B A M. random fucking aunt comes outta nowhere and mac is like "herherheruhfhfsfdj she's my family :)" like wtf who wrote thisssssss
#and then everyone immediately turned on him instead of just having a goddamn conversation#they're like second graders who refuse to use their words#mac if u would just fucking tell someone what you're doing#and desi and russ if you'd just stop for one second and let him talk#UGH#asks#refinedbuffoonery#we love refinedbuffoonery very much#macgyver#macriley fans please im begging u do not come for my bones they are FRAGILE!!!!!
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Looking Through A Window (20)
macriley married undercover au
masterlist.
Happy New Year! Truly, I cannot imagine posting this chapter on any other day. There's a certain hopeful joy on New Year's Day, is there not? Fitting for this chapter, I think.
Please excuse the horrific number of metaphors in this chapter. In the first draft, there were more. So. Many. More.
I know it's hard to stay connected to a story that updates as infrequently as this one, so I dedicate this chapter to those of you who have been here since the beginning and are still here. Thank you for hanging on. I love you.
*****
Despite his exhaustion, sleep doesn’t find Mac easily. He tosses and turns, not bothering to conceal his restlessness from Riley since she’s tossing and turning too. The gray morning light peeking through the bedroom window isn’t helping either. When all else fails, Mac finally just throws an arm and a leg over Riley and pulls her close, wanting the comfort of her in his arms.
He nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in, fighting the urge to press his lips into her warm skin. It feels so good to have her with him, despite not quite having her the way he wants. But he could. Have her, that is. They just need to cross that final bridge, but he’ll be damned if they don’t cross it together. They’ve come too far for him to rush and blow it at the finish line.
Between the precarious mission and the even more precarious state of their relationship, it’s a lot to worry about, all at once. But even though his anxious brain is keeping him awake, his body craves rest.
Mac tries one of the grounding exercises a Phoenix therapist taught him. He starts by noticing his breath, slow and deep. On his next inhale, he shifts his awareness to his feet; on the exhale, he lets them get heavy and sink into the mattress. Mac repeats the exercise moving up his body—legs, hips, torso, shoulders, arms, head. Another breath and his whole body sinks even deeper into the mattress.
Giving up on the hope of sleep, he does his best to ignore the fact that Riley’s laptop is currently open at the foot of the bed, programmed to alert them as soon as someone makes the first 911 call about the bomb.
Even though he’s waiting for it, the notification comes entirely too soon.
Live satellite imagery shows first responders from all over the city converging on the capitol. Or rather, what’s left of it. Mac’s chain of bombs worked a little too well—leveling not only the building, but the landscaping and a chunk of the parking lot as well.
Mac’s stomach drops as his mind immediately jumps to the very real scenario of a bomb having not gone off with all the rest. He can only watch the screen in horror as he pleads with the universe that some unlucky firefighter doesn’t stumble across an intact device. He wants to scour the place himself.
There’s no way Matty would let him do that. There’s no way Riley would let him do that.
It doesn’t take long before the news coverage begins, and Mac streams the live video on his phone while Riley keeps them tapped into the first responders’ radio network. They’re desperately listening for one thing, and one thing only: whether there were any casualties.
An hour passes. No bodies, yet.
Matty calls, confirming no one was in the building. She had analysts monitoring the security cameras all night long to be sure. She also assures Mac and Riley that they were not caught on camera. No one in the intelligence community has a clue who did this.
After Matty hangs up, a long time passes before Mac feels like he can breathe again. No one died. I didn’t kill anyone, he thinks.
But the anxiety kicks in, like it always does, questioning, But what if you did?
It’s taken a lot of time and therapy over the years to learn how to shut down thoughts like that, but Mac still struggles. He needs something to do with his hands, to give him something else to think about. Even though he’s not hungry, he says, “I’m going to make breakfast.”
Riley looks just as lost as Mac feels as she nods. There are dark circles beneath her eyes that he hadn’t noticed before. “I need to lay back down for a minute,” she says. Riley closes her computer and flops onto the pillows, eyes closing. “I’ll help you in a bit.”
Mac squeezes her shoulder before heading to the kitchen and making himself a cup of coffee.
Working with his hands has always quieted his mind. Since he was a kid, Mac would turn to building something—or taking something apart—when he had something to work through in his head. There was a calm, focused order to his actions, which translated to a calm, focused mind.
It was only well into adulthood that Mac realized his strategy applied to cooking. Granted, he doesn’t have the instincts to make a good chef, not like Bozer, and often the results leave much to be desired where taste is concerned, but there’s an organization to cooking and baking that Mac’s brain likes. His pancake batter comes together quickly, and Mac is grateful that the agents who set up the safe house thought to stock the kitchen with nice cooking tools.
They don’t, however, have a griddle, so he heats up a large skillet and ladles batter into neat circles.
Step by step, he works through his stress about the bombing, through his anxiety over what the Patriots might ask for next, through his terror last night when Riley didn’t respond over comms. Mac’s heart races as the memory replays in his mind, first as it happened, then in a warped worst-case scenario. He sees Riley getting dragged across the grounds by those cops and roughly thrown into the back of their car. The powerlessness he feels is hard to swallow.
Mac takes a deep breath. That didn’t happen. He found her. He was there to help her.
He wants to be there for her for the rest of his life.
More than half the pancakes have been cooked by the time Mac hears the soft sound of feet on carpet, and then a bleary-eyed Riley turns the corner into the kitchen, still wearing those damn pajamas that make his brain cease to function. He’d really like to run his fingers along the gap between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her shorts, just to hear what sound she’d make when his fingers graze her skin. Seemingly unaware of his staring, Riley makes a beeline for the coffee pot, and Mac has to stifle a laugh when she overfills her mug and has to bend over to slurp some before even lifting it from the counter. His own half-drank cup is over there too, forgotten, and she refills it and brings it to him by way of greeting. Mac thanks her.
“You fell back asleep, didn’t you?”
“Yeah until Harley kicked me right in the stomach. She’s having another one of her weird dreams.” Mac sympathy-winces into his coffee. This new cup tastes better than the one he made himself.
“Breakfast is almost ready.” He checks the pancakes—still too pale.
“How can I help?”
Unable to help himself, Mac smiles at her. “Can you please wash the strawberries?” Riley nods into her coffee.
Mac loves how easy this is—still in their pajamas, seamlessly cooking together. His anxiety doesn’t feel so overwhelming when she’s around. Just being near her makes him feel warm and safe and at peace. It’s everything he wants.
Wants with Riley, no one else.
Her back is to him while she rinses the berries, but Mac can’t help smiling at her. He’s so in love with her that it hurts; his heart squeezes as those three little words rise in his throat.
“I love you,” he says.
Riley turns to him, lips parted.
“I am undeniably, irreversibly, in love with you,” Mac repeats. It’s exhilarating to finally say it. He takes the two steps across the kitchen to stand before her, cradling her face in his hands. “I love us. I love the trust we’ve built and how I feel safest with you by my side. I love that you continually push me to be the best version of myself. I love your determination and patience and compassion. And I love the way you ruined the possibility of ever loving anyone else the way I love you.”
Eyes lined with silver, Riley tugs him closer until their bodies are pressed together. “I love you too, you know.”
His heart squeezes. Shatters and re-forms with her inside it. Years of friendship and partnership and loving her crashes over him, surrounding him, filling him. “I do,” he says hoarsely.
A tear escapes her eye, then another, and Mac gently kisses them away, tasting salt on his lips.
Riley sniffs. “Mac.”
“You,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against hers, “are so beautiful.” He traces a fingertip around the outline of her lips, marking exactly where he plans on kissing her next, then tilts her chin upward. Deep in his chest, he feels this tugging sensation toward her, the atoms in his body desperate to intertwine with the atoms in hers. She’s close enough that he feels her breath on his face. She’s so close. She’s so damn close, but even after everything he still needs her to be the one to finally close the gap between them. To step through that door.
“Mac, the pancakes.”
“Fuck the pancakes.”
“Mac, they’re burning.” She pushes his chest for emphasis.
Mac groans, but he gives in, flipping the slightly burnt pancakes as fast as humanly possible. Setting the spatula down, he puts both hands back on Riley’s face. “Now, can I kiss you?” Riley smiles, and it’s like the sun shining in the kitchen, just for him.
“Yes.”
The first kiss is soft but sure, just as Mac has never been more sure of anything in his life than telling Riley he loves her. Riley parts her lips, but Mac doesn’t speed up as he tastes her. He just continues to kiss her slowly, deeply, thoroughly. And Riley kisses him back, each press of her lips like a puzzle piece finally sliding into place.
“I love you,” he whispers into her mouth, just because he can.
The second kiss takes a different turn, heated and desperate. It feels like the culmination of all the years of waiting and wondering and hoping. The burn of the surety of her lips against his proves that it was all worth it.
They only pause to take the pancakes off the stove.
By the third kiss, Mac has found the confidence to move his hands freely along her body, tugging at her waist, stroking his thumb across her ribs. Meanwhile her fingers have found the spot at the base of his skull that makes him want to melt in a puddle on the floor. Nails scratching lightly, she grips his hair and tugs, and the resulting surge of want is so strong it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to lay her out on the floor. Or over the counter. Or against the wall.
No. The first time will happen in a bed. Nowhere else.
Mac is so absorbed in Riley that he almost doesn’t hear the knock at the door. Chest heaving, he rests his forehead against hers as he tries to catch his breath. The knocking only grows more insistent.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Riley mutters.
Sneaking in one more kiss on the cheek, Mac offers, “I’ll get it.”
It’s Carrie Ann at the door. Because somehow she always finds a way to insert herself in the middle of their major relationship milestones.
But his annoyance at her interruption is curbed by the look of genuine worry on her face. Before he can ask what she’s doing here, she asks in that intrusive but well-meaning way of hers, “Is everything alright? Last night I heard Harley barking, so I came over to check on y’all, and your car was gone. I kept a lookout and you were gone all night and have been real worried ‘bout you.” She crosses her arms.
They’d heard Harley whining when they returned early this morning, but learning she’d done that all night makes an acidic sort of guilt burn a hole in Mac’s stomach. The look on Carrie Ann’s face makes it clear she wants an explanation, so he scrambles to come up with a decent lie.
“Thank you for checking on her,” Mac begins, glancing over his shoulder to where Harley dozes on the couch. “We spent last night in the ER. Gen had some nasty vertigo that wouldn’t go away, but she’s fine now.” He’s surprised at how easily the lie rolls off his tongue.
Relief washes over Carrie Ann’s face, although the neighborly concern remains. “I’m glad she’s alright. Why don’t I bring you two dinner tonight so you don’t have to cook? You look like you could use some rest.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I insist.”
Mac glances at the floor, embarrassed to be taking advantage of her generosity after lying to her face. But he looks her in the eye when he says, “Thank you. We would really appreciate that.”
“That’s what neighbors do. They take care of each other.” Carrie Ann smiles. “I’ll be back around six with your dinner, that work for you?”
Mac can only nod, a lump forming in his throat.
“Tell your wife to call me when she’s feeling better.”
The word wife hits Mac square in the chest. His lungs seize, halting as he tries to reconcile the roles they’re playing with the roles they’re choosing. They went into this as coworkers and friends and partners, pretending to be married. If they stay on their current path, they’ll be coming out of this still as partners, but of a different, deeper sort. Perhaps even on the road to getting married for real.
It’s too early to think that. But it’s not, because now he’s lived it and it’s everything he wants.
Wants with her. For real.
His eyes water as he returns to the kitchen, which Riley notices immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He wraps her in a tight hug, letting her anchor him amidst the current of thoughts and feelings flowing around them. “Just feeling a little emotional at the moment.” She laughs into his shoulder, sounding a little choked up herself.
After breakfast, Mac has every intention of kissing Riley for as long as she’ll let him. She tastes like coffee and maple syrup and peace, and his hands fit around her hips like they were carved from the same chunk of universe as he backs her against the cabinets.
His hands aren’t shy as they relearn her body in this new context. She feels warm and familiar, yet wholly new and different at the same time. He moves freely between parts of her he’s never touched and parts he’s touched a thousand times.
What he doesn’t do is rush. Not when this moment is years in the making. No matter how much he wants to, he resists the temptation to let his fingers tease the strip of exposed skin between the hem of her shirt and the waistband of her shorts. Instead he keeps her clothes as a barrier—one that he’ll only cross with her express permission.
Riley pulls back, giving him that look that says she knows what he’s thinking. “You don’t have to be so careful, you know.”
“I do. Have to be careful, that is,” he clarifies. Kissing her is just as terrifying as it is exciting, and most of his fear is that he’ll do something to make her end this before it even begins. They’ve come too far, crossed too many lines—especially now that he knows how she tastes—to go back to being friends. And Mac doesn’t plan on losing her.
“I want this,” she reassures him, kissing him as if she’s trying to breathe confidence into his lungs. “And everything that comes with it.”
“Everything, huh?” Mac smirks.
Of its own accord, his thumb slips beneath the hem of her shirt, stroking soft skin. She gasps at the brush of contact—a sound that will ring in Mac’s eardrums until the day he dies.
Riley nods desperately, confidence reduced to speechlessness with one small gesture. Pride swells in Mac’s chest. He did that to her. He caused that reaction.
He wants to do it again.
Mac lowers his lips to her ear. “Tell me, exactly, what you want.”
She shivers.
“This?” He presses a kiss below her ear. “Or this?” He nips at the skin over her pulse. “Or maybe this?” He grazes his fingertips up her bare thigh.
The whine that escapes Riley’s throat is a straight shot to his ego.
“Do you even know all the ways I’ve imagined seducing you?”
Too much. He’s gone too far with that one, based on the way Riley stiffens. Mac backpedals, the beginning of a jumbled apology tumbling from his lips. But then Riley grabs his face with both hands and forces him to meet her gaze.
“I want you to show me what you’ve imagined.” She swallows. “And then I’ll show you mine.”
*****
Mac has never hated Conrad more than when the bastard blows up his phone while he’s got his mouth on Riley’s collarbone and his fingers undoing the drawstring of her shorts. He’s no murderer, but he might make an exception just this once.
There’s an emergency Patriots council meeting in an hour, and James and Genevieve are expected to be there.
Goddamnit.
They scramble to shower—one at a time, unfortunately—and drive over, pulling up to the Patriots’ warehouse with only a couple minutes to spare. They bring Harley with them, feeling guilty for leaving her home alone so much.
Predictably, they’re the last to arrive, and Conrad glowers at them as they take their seats. Harley sniffs the room before dutifully laying at Riley’s feet.
A perfect foil to Conrad’s foul mood, Ethan sits at the head of the conference table wearing a practiced neutral expression that even Matty would admire. Hands folded in his lap, he looks the picture of calm and at ease. If Mac were a fool, he’d think this was just a regular Wednesday council meeting.
But Mac’s no fool, and nearly a decade of black ops has taught him that that level of calm on a powerful person’s face should only elicit one emotion: fear.
Conrad snaps, “We have a rat problem.”
Mac stiffens. Almost immediately, Riley’s knee bumps his under the table, a silent reminder to control his reactions. He reaches down to scratch Harley’s head, forcing his lips into an irreverent smirk. A smug mask to hide the fear of getting caught too soon. “Need to borrow my dog, Conrad?” Mac goads.
Months from now, the glare Conrad levels at him will be laughable. No doubt spectacularly reenacted by Riley as they tell this story around Mac’s fire pit. Even now, a few snickers break out around the table until Ethan holds up a hand, silencing them.
“What he means to say,” Ethan begins, “is that there is a wrinkle in an otherwise perfectly executed demolition of the capitol.” The temperature in the room plummets. Mac wishes he could ask Riley if she feels it too, that it’s not just his imagination. Ethan continues, “There wasn’t a single injury or casualty this morning. You know why? The capitol was empty.”
A few murmurs break out, but the air in the room remains tense, frozen as they wait for the hammer to drop.
“It has come to my attention that capitol employees were given an impromptu day off. And since the only people who knew about this plan are in this room. . .” Ethan pauses, taking time to look each council member in the eye. “There is obviously a mole in our organization, and it’s one of you.”
Well. That’s inconvenient.
“We’re giving you twenty-four hours to come forward as the mole. If you come forward during that time, we’ll release you from service without repercussions.” A blatant lie if Mac ever heard one. “If you do not come forward, when we find you, there will be consequences for your actions.”
No doubt those consequences will be swift and bloody. A fate he’d like to avoid.
“James. A word.” Ethan rises from the table, and Mac and Riley exchange a brief look before following. No need to piss him off even more.
In his office, Ethan elects to stand, fingertips pressed into the lacquered wood of this desk. On instinct Mac positions his body slightly in front of Riley like he can shield her from the verbal lashing they’re about to receive. But she bumps him with her elbow—a move so subtle anyone else would think it an accident—and steps forward so she’s even with him. Equal partners, always.
It’s nice to have someone to share the burdens of this job.
“My first instinct is to blame the two of you for this mishap,” Ethan says, his too-casual tone making Mac internally cringe. “Care to share your thoughts on that?”
Without missing a beat, Mac replies, “It only makes sense. We’re new and thus the least trusted. You’ve looked into us, I’m sure, but we’re the outliers in this equation. New features to an already well-oiled machine. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust us either.” If Riley was in his ear rather than at his side, no doubt she’d be yelling, What the fuck are you saying? But she’s trapped in a position where she has no choice but to show a united front, and Mac continues his misdirection without interruption. “Because of this fragile trust, we did not take certain creative liberties we might’ve otherwise. Our planning was exactly to Conrad’s specifications, from the number of bombs to their placement to the time of detonation. So if you’re looking to point fingers, I wouldn’t aim at us.”
Mac didn’t lie. Every word of that speech is true. It’s just carefully crafted to avoid any mention of evacuating the building.
“That doesn’t change the fact that the governor is still alive. We’ll have to do this again.”
In the last few days, Mac had honestly forgotten the point of all this was murder, not just making a statement. Now the conversation they overheard between Ethan and Cody at the gala comes roaring back, drowning out whatever Ethan says next.
“Perhaps,” Riley says, coming to his rescue, “our next attempt should be done with more finesse.” It’s like she knew Mac was lost in his thoughts, knew she needed to shift Ethan’s attention off him and onto herself. All without looking at Mac. She knows him.
Ethan slowly repeats the word finesse, turning it over in his mouth as he considers Riley’s statement. “Mrs. Turner—”
“You can call me Genevieve.”
“Genevieve,” Ethan amends, wearing an expression Mac can’t quite place. “And what would this finesse look like?”
It’s a test, obviously. A challenge to contribute without undermining Ethan’s authority.
“With all due respect, a big bombing is messy. Too many variables to ensure such a precise desired outcome.” Her voice is cold and unfeeling in a way Mac hasn’t heard in a long time. Like she locked her humanity in a box so all that’s left is that wicked brain of hers, solving a puzzle like a machine would, without the influence of morality. “If you want to assassinate the governor, it needs to be simple and precise. His security will be heightened after this, but no person is invulnerable. Getting out of their car is a good time to catch a man off guard, then all you need is a sniper on a nearby roof.”
“Public or in private?”
“You can do it in his own front yard for all I care.”
Later tonight, that sentence will haunt Riley’s nightmares and put her on her knees in front of the toilet. Keep her on the bathroom floor as she processes what she said. She’ll let Mac tie back her hair, let him hold her while she cries, but they won’t talk. He knows her.
“And are you my sniper?”
Mac swallows. Riley replies, “No, I am not. But I can put you in contact with someone I trust.”
“Is he discreet?”
“She is.”
Something flickers in Ethan’s eye at the pronoun correction, but he doesn’t respond right away. He makes a show of thinking it over, although Mac doesn’t pay him much attention as he’s too busy trying to keep up with Riley’s scheming himself. Obviously the sniper is Desi; they’ll have to get her on board. And if she gets involved. . . perhaps they could fake the governor’s death, at least temporarily.
“I won’t tolerate being disappointed again,” Ethan warns.
It feels like damning himself as Mac promises, “We won’t.”
*****
Back at the apartment, the rest of the day passes as planned. They sleep on the couch until Carrie Ann drops off dinner, which is surprisingly good. And when the nightmare of her own words drags Riley from bed, Mac brings a pillow and blanket to the bathroom. He doesn’t get to press a litany of I love you-s into her skin the way he imagined doing this morning. Instead it’s just one, whispered into her hair amid gentle shushing noises as he rocks her to sleep.
.
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#beth writes#macriley#angus macgyver#riley davis#macgyver#macgyver fanfiction#looking through a window au#this is THE chapter. you know the one
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Reminder that MacGyver as a show is much more than the ships.
It's about a man who is brilliant, imaginative and unique who uses his beautiful mind to fight for the good.
If MacGyver can save the world with something as small as paperclip, alongside with something as big as his conviction on his ideals, then why can't I do it too?
Let's not forget what the show really is about!
#MacGyver#Just a thought#Mac is a leader#and he was the one that got me into science when I was a child#(just as Indiana Jones got me into history lol)#But hey the point is that this is much bigger than MacRiley or MacDesi or MacDalton#It's about inspiring generations
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that interview saying that mac and riley were always endgame and they were going to explore macriley in season 6 if they got renewed because desi would’ve found her ex-fiance bitch i am not even spiraling i am just sitting here
#like this is a WIN for everyone can't y'all see! because evan and desi were in LOVE and she even questions if mac is just a stand-in for him#and everything in that show between mac and riley y'all macriley truthers we know we were endgame how does it feel to win#the way we won but didn't get a prize smdh#unless
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