#macgyver 2016 fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ash5monster01 · 10 months ago

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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

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sourszt · 10 months ago

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𝟕:𝟎𝟒 𝐚𝐦 | 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — murdoc (2016) x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 — nsfw, explicit, reader needs something, murdoc wants something in return, oral (fem!receiving) murdoc is an asshole, hair pulling, quickie (?), face fucking, panty stealing, murdoc uses readers panties, lowkey nose kink lol, clit sucking, tongue fucking, slight overstimulation

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — NOT PROOFREAD! literally stayed up til 7am to finish this bc i refused to not finish it. i had this idea when i watched like the second episode he was in and i couldnt get it out. also i need more david dastmalchian esp jack delroy, murdoc, johnny, and james lewis moots pleasepleaseplease

you were pissed. that much was obvious when you stormed into the prison with a slim folder between your tense fingers and a scowl etched into your typically stoic features.

you had demanded the guards get him into the interrogation room before you got there and told them to keep away from the door for the next hour. though they weren’t allowed to do so, they refused to fall into your vicious crosshairs.

they did as they were told, and the second you swung open the door to the stuffy, metal room you were met with a smug grin and taunting stare.

neither of which wavered even when you slammed the manilla folder onto the table in front of him and used that same hand to backhand him right across his cheek. your fingers closed around the collar of his plain white shirt before he could fully process the strike and you forced his body back upright. his handcuffs rattled with the motion. the proximity should have scared him.

“you sold us out?” your voice bounced off of the walls like a gunshot had rung out. but murdoc didn’t flinch. instead, his smile steadily grew until he was laughing in your hands.

honestly, you should have expected this. the consequences of trusting a sociopathic assassin like him. known for lying about any and everything, completely indifferent about who he hurts and the amount of chaos he creates.

you made the stupid mistake of placing what should have been the satisfying wrap-up to a very important mission in his hands and ended up getting double crossed, and your coworker and good friend almost killed. in whatever time murdoc had between your meeting with him and what was supposed to be a surprise confrontation, he gave away every last detail to whoever knew of your connections with him.

luckily, the phoenix foundation had never known a loss thanks to macgyver. he narrowly managed to flip the score and gain the upper hand in a heavily disadvantaged fight, giving your team just enough room to make just a few arrests. the rest were able to escape.

but despite the half victory, you knew it wouldn’t happen every time. so you had to remind your little informant who he belonged to.

your hold tightened on his shirt, and finally his cuffed wrists rose as a meek defense. “oh, come on sweetheart. i’m flattered you thought so highly of me, but i’ve told you before. my service only goes to the higher bidder now.” his voice was calm and condescending. it pisses you off.

you held him still for several seconds, debating on painting his cheekbone purple before shoving him back into his chair. it was so forceful, you heard the thin legs grit and scrape against the ground. murdoc chuckled lowly. “you’re strong for such a small thing, aren’t you?”

your eyes shot daggers into his own, but you control yourself. the team would only fall into deeper shit if you pushed him into a non-verbal state. they were relying on you, even if they had no idea you had come back here.

“you’re going to tell me who these people are, and where they might’ve gone.” you instructed, voice low and sharp. murdoc’s eyebrows twitched upwards as you flipped the folder open and spread several papers onto the table.

he glanced down at them, eyes shifting left and right like he was tracking a moving dot. “need i remind you? again?” his empty brown eyes came back up to you. his smile returned. “why should i?”

right. payment. in truth, you had shown up completely empty handed, boldly praying that you could get him to comply and the answers would merely fall out of him. maybe a punch or two. but this was murdoc. he felt nothing.

your jaw tightened when you came up with nothing. he seemed to sense that before you could say it and he scoffed out a laugh. “oh, then i’m afraid you came all this way for nothing, sweetheart.”

that was the second time he’d called you that. it felt almost dehumanizing coming from him, especially paired with the not-so-subtle observation he stole of your figure. though, it seemed to strike something in him, and the corner of his lips lifted.

“you know, i might be willing to settle for a second place offer.” murdoc held your gaze with a newfound intensity, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. dealing with many men in your profession, you knew that look all too well.

your stomach lurched. though you couldn’t tell if it was in a nauseating or interested way, seeing as your stomach suddenly tensed so badly it really could have been either. the man was attractive, there was no denying that. but still, you’d never pictured a situation like this with him before.

murdoc tsked at your shock. “i have needs.” he said matter-of-factly with a small shrug. his handcuffs clinked against his chair.

“i thought you had to be human for that.” you shot back.

every bone in your body told you to pack the file back up and leave him hanging. that was what your best judgment was screaming at you to do. not to entertain a maniac like him and put yourself at such a risk. but for some reason your feet were glued to the floor. you couldn’t move.

murdoc actually looked offended by your words, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “i can be as human as you need me to be. just say the word.” his voice dropped, suddenly teetering towards gravelly. “you need something, i want something. my prices really don’t get this low, you know.”

knowing murdoc, his idea of ‘needs’ was bound to put you in some compromising position. you shouldn’t. you really shouldn’t. but the way he was looking up at you with what could only be described as pleading eyes forced your refusal back down your throat.

then, his lips spread into a victorious grin. you noticed his sharp canine fangs for the first time. “good girl.” he breathed. he shifted to face you, reaching out to inch you closer to him with one hand. the distance between you two was already microscopic, but it got even thinner as he gently eased your legs in between his parted knees.

the chain that bound his wrists together granted him far too much leeway, you noticed when he planted his hands on either side of your waist.

your clammy palm pressed onto the table’s surface beside you to balance yourself, finding your guard was beginning to slip away. a heavy sigh escaped from your nostrils and your eyes squeezed shut while you took in your position.

you could back out now, you thought. there would be no shame in it. you’re only caught up in the moment now. he stunned you. that was all. you didn’t have to do this. you didn’t want to do this, you corrected, more loudly in your head this time.

murdoc’s fingers began to massage your hips over the skirt of your form fitting black dress, drawing you out of your meditative space. your eyes found his when they snapped open, and murdoc hummed.

“no need to worry, sweetheart. i know what i’m doing.” like that made you feel any better. he also knew what he was doing when he killed dozens of people.

you let a sigh slip past your lips when his hands traveled downward, inching towards the hem of your dress. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d say there were two guards behind that door. but there isn’t, is there?” he asked lowly and knowingly, shooting a glance over to the locked door you had come in from.

your response was reluctant. if you told him he was right, he could easily use his position to overpower you and get out. but if you let him believe the guards were there doing their job, would he stop? you looked down at him, then down where his hands were gently massaging your upper thighs.

“no, they’re not.” you replied truthfully.

“good.” murdoc quickly replied. he moved you so that you stood in front of the table. your expression shifted to one of curiosity. “you can be as loud as you’d like.”

your face flushed hot at his words. how he said them so casually and cockily despite being (almost) completely at your mercy.

his fingers hooked onto the bottom of your dress and pulled it up to your waist, sighing with admiration as he took in the sight of your black panties. you gasped at the abrupt exposure, wanting to pull the bunched up fabric back down your thighs. but the sudden sensation of murdoc’s fingers rubbing at the dampened crotch of your underwear caught you off guard and you let out a whine.

“that’s it,” murdoc groaned when your thighs instinctively parted wider for him. he traced up your wet folds through the thin fabric, stopping at your clit to circle it. your chest filled with a sharp gasp and you cried out, legs going near slack. “good girl.”

your hips bucked shamelessly into his fingers, desperately trying to match his steady rhythm. “shit, shit,” you gasped, fingers curling around the edge of the table. your head fell back between your shoulders, strained whines falling from your lips.

murdoc quickly stole your building-up orgasm when he took his hand away to slide your panties down your legs and plant himself onto his knees before you. he whisked the garment away but you didn’t entirely care. the sight of him made you blink, realizing what he was about to do.

this was what he meant by wanting something? honestly, you had expected him to bend you over the table or have you straddle him on the chair.

“go on.” he gently nods towards the table behind you. hesitantly, you pull your dress down to cover your ass before hoisting yourself up onto the edge. you wince at the cold that seeped through the thin fabric meant to protect you. the rest of it bunched up at your hips.

murdoc’s hand slipped behind your thigh, holding it in place, the chain lightly digging into your skin as he brought his other one up to rub at your inner thigh. you waited for him to tend to your aching cunt again, but it never came.

you looked down at him, growing irritated. “what do you need me to do?” he asked far too sweetly for your liking. you glowered at him, but he didn’t give in. “don’t forget, you’re the one who needs something.”

bastard. he was going to make you say it out loud. humiliate you for a little bit, even if he was painfully hard in his orange jumpsuit. he had patience like no other, so he would get his way.

you swallowed what was left of your pride and responded, “please, make me come.” your words held bite and lacked the lust that coursed through you. and although murdoc looked like he was going to make you answer correctly for a moment, he shrugged.

“since you asked so nicely.” he said sardonically before he planted his mouth onto your cunt. the response was immediate, a startled cry of his name falling from your lips and your thighs tensing around him.

his tongue delves into your cunt, working you slowly and skillfully. you press a shaky hand to your mouth to try to keep yourself relatively quiet, but it’s like he knows exactly how you touch yourself at home in bed. he’s hitting every spot, and the vibrations of each of his moans make your back arch.

“murdoc—” his name sounded so strange when you weren’t cursing it to hell and back. “—fuck, don’t stop,” your hips rolled against his mouth, the tip of his nose prodding at your clit. you risked it and carded a hand through his hair, taking a handful of dark locks and tugging. he moaned, louder this time, and his knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on your thigh.

you watched as his eyes fluttered shut, practically losing himself in your pussy. he shifted to sucking on and licking at your clit, reveling in the way your cries got higher and more frequent, and how your body writhed wildly against his face. then he’d move back to devouring you, messily and loudly.

your hold on his hair went icy and you pushed him deeper into your cunt, thighs spreading impossibly wider. murdoc whined at the assertion, peering up at you through hooded eyelids.

the sight was obscene, burning itself into your vision forever. the feeling would, too. you hadn’t received anything like this in years, especially not from your silicone and rubber replacements at home.

it’s then that you notice that he’s breathing too hard — or rather, moving far too much — and that he’s slowed down significantly. and that his hands have left both of your thighs and had gone back to his lap. one still loosely held your calf, you realized, but the other worked at his stiff cock. you couldn’t see it, only the rapid up-and-down of his fist.

it wasn’t because of his jumpsuit, which he had worked open at some point, but because also in his hand was your panties. it should’ve disgusted you. watching murdoc jerk himself off and using your panties to do it.

but instead your breathing went ragged and you moaned. “fuck, fuck, murdoc!” he groaned in response, his tongue delving into your pussy in slow, deep drags. he didn’t care that you’re fucking his face now, or that he can’t breathe. he was chasing his own high, fisting his dick with your panties and listening to your relentless cries.

you cursed and cried out as the coil tightened in your gut, feeling like your body was about to explode if he didn’t stop. you didn’t want him to. so you held his mouth against your cunt, hips jerking sporadically as you finally came on his tongue. you felt murdoc’s lips curve into a smirk against you, but you didn’t have the strength to care.

instead, you let him fuck you with his tongue through your blinding orgasm, gently rolling your hips in time with his languid thrusts. you tilted your head and peered down at him, watching him get himself off with your underwear.

you wished you’d worn a sexier pair, but the stirring in your stomach was still there. just knowing they were yours.

a weak moan slipped from you when the sensitivity started to catch up with you. murdoc kept going, still licking up your first orgasm. “holy shit, murdoc,” you slurred, a second orgasm quickly building.

your head fell back and your fingers ran through murdoc’s hair, tousling it even more. but he persisted now, shifting to messily work at your clit. the noises were obscene, and the shame was beginning to set in, but once you looked down and caught his gaze, it was gone.

his nose poked at your abdomen while he sucked on your sensitive nub, and spit and cum glistened around his mouth. you held the contact for only a moment before you came for a second time on his tongue, and telling from the trembling moan he let out right after, he did too.

he pulled away after a second, both of your heavy panting filled the room. you could barely hold yourself torso up, you couldn’t even imagine standing up yet. so you stayed propped against the edge of the table while murdoc cleaned himself as best as he could.

“you can keep them.” you mumbled before he could even try to give you your panties back. but the man only blinked at you.

“i know.”

the anger from before threatened to return. god, he was such an asshole.

“that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked with a smug smirk as he wiped your cum from his face with the back of his hand. the action made you gulp, and the way he was staring at you, still on the ground, forced you to your feet and to the other side of the table.

you had to put distance between you and him or you’d end up shoving his face right back between your legs again. and you would rather die than have murdoc know that you wanted him to tongue fuck you again.

“right, now, can you give me what i need?” you asked, hurrying to rearrange the shuffled papers on the table.

murdoc got back up into his chair, watching you compose yourself with amusement. “that depends, sweetheart.” he replied. “what do you need? names or another round?”

did this in one sitting ur welcome. god i love david dastmalchian. so much. also i might write a part 2 to this.

#macgyver #murdoc macgyver #murdoc smut #macgyver tv show #macgyver smut #david dastmalchian #smut #david dastmalchian murdoc #murdoc x reader #murdoc fic #macgyver 2016

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paperxcrowns · 7 months ago

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i am genuinely tweaking over the fact that macgyver (2016) practically glosses over the fact that Mac was straight up!!! Lying!!!! to bozer for YEARS.

this would have been such good material to use to explore Mac and Bozer's relationship, and how complex the situation was bc YES it feels like a betrayal but it's also Mac simply protecting Bozer from his dangerous life and still keeping him close despite the danger, despite the very real possibility of bozer accidentally finding out or simply using bozer to get to Mac.

NOT TO MENTION. Boze was Mac's only link to something not remotely related to his job!!! the only bit of normal in his chaotic life!!!!

both of them having to find their footing again after the reveal bc nothing can go back to normal. like. bozer thinking back to all the weird injuries mac returned home with from his think tank business trips, all the lies, all the secrecy, all the time. justified hurt on bozer's side as well as understanding bc if the roles were reversed wouldn't bozer also lie to keep his closest friend safe? understanding the reason doesn't make the years of lies hurt any less.

adhjfkglgl i have. so many thoughts about this. i am clawing at the walls.

#im so unwell #i am. god #fuck i am actually planning on writing a series of oneshots centered around mac and bozer #pre boze finding out abt phoenix and the whole spy stuff #bc. theres so much untapped potential macgyver show writers when i fucking GET YOU #the ramifications of falling back into an old fandom ahdjfk!&#macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #wilt bozer #its 2am if anyone cant tell lmao #as soon as ao3 is back trust i will IMMEDIATELY be posting the fic im currently finishing up

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lailuhhh · 5 months ago

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Mac - Father + Dad

His father had left when he was a child, and Mac had thought that would’ve been the end of it. When he got notified of a funeral, it should’ve been the end of it. Mac’s life was anything but linear

James fakes his death

Read it here!

#this is the ‘James faked his death au’ no one asked for #but I am having a blast writing it #so you have to look at it as well #lailuh speaks #macgyver #macgyver 2016 #lailuh writes #macgyver fic #ao3 link

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strange-relics · 11 months ago

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I'm trying my best to finish at least one fic for Cairo Day next month, and one scene involves needing to crack a safe, something I was trying to do in a way that was heavily improvised and very much on brand for our boy Mac.

Well I decided to bring it up to my grandfather (former EOD, named Jack) during our weekly coffee date today, and not only did he tell me exactly how to crack that safe (using explosives and a wine bottle, no less) he even sketched a diagram of the whole process for me.

Once again I am reminded why the show hits so close to home for me, whose irl nickname is Mac, and whose father-figure is named Jack. Role reversal with the EOD stuff, but this fic just became so, so special to me!

#macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #jack dalton #cairo day 2024 #macgyver cairo day #macgyver cairo day 2024 #macgyver #macgyver fic #macgyver fanfiction #mac and jack

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a-sin-to-be-rin · 3 months ago

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Murdoc + Bazooka

Mac wakes up with a runny nose, a dry mouth, and someone’s boot in his side.

“Oh. So you are alive. I thought I’d killed you for sure.”

Despite everything, this is possibly the worst case scenario. The middle of nowhere. Injured. Alone- well, actually, he’s not alone. God, Mac wishes he was. After all, it’s much easier to survive when Murdoc isn’t pointing a gun in your face.

---

“Damn. You’d think it'd be easier to find a pharmacy around here. Where are we? Do they have pharmacies?”

Mac lifts his head from the cool glass of the car window. “We're in Vermont,” he mutters, kneading his forehead with his knuckles. “Of course they have pharmacies.”

“Yeah, tell that to Google Maps,” Jack gripes, tossing his phone Mac’s way.

“You don't have reception. Google Maps thinks we've fallen off the face of the Earth.”

Jack groans. “We’ve been driving through the woods for ages. This is like, the perfect place for a serial killer to hide out.”

“We’re still pretty far out from the nearest city,” Mac says regretfully. “Just keep going.”

“Only you would get a cold after the mission is done. Why can't you be a normal person and get it before the mission? Then you can't go on the mission, which means I can't go on the mission. I would kill for a break, Mac.”

But Mac doesn't have the energy to argue. He waves Jack off, slumping against the window again.

“You better be grateful.” True to form, Jack continues the argument alone. “Nobody else on this team would drive your sick ass through serial killer woods to get you cough drops. I want you to remember this when you're picking out my birthday present-”

BAM!

There's fire. The Jeep rolls. Glass shatters everywhere, metal bending and screeching.

And then, there's nothing at all.

---

The world is hazy when Mac opens his eyes. Frost coats the frozen earth and tinges the underbrush. Cold, dry air fills his lungs and a wheeze escapes them.

“Oh. So you are alive.”

“What-?”

Dirt, too dry to be mud, but only barely, presses into the side of his face and brushes his ear. He tries to lift his head, but the effort it takes only makes his face plant that much harder when his head drops again.

“It’s okay,” the voice says. “It’s just me.”

Mac can’t place the voice. It’s familiar. Chillingly familiar. It makes Mac’s stomach clench. But he can’t recall why.

“I’ll be honest,” the voice continues. “At first, I really thought I killed you. I mean, you weren’t moving, and head wounds just bleed so damn much. You know how it is.” Footsteps circle around Mac, light and even.

Even surface distribution, Mac notes. Large surface area. Men’s size 10, maybe 11. Wide foot. And the dissonance from the toe means it’s a stiff shoe. Either new or rarely used.

And then a pair of black dress shoes, far too shiny for a dirt trail in the middle of the woods, steps into view. Mac rolls onto his back, shoulders and leg and head aching from the movement, and finds himself staring down the barrel of a hunting rifle.

“Stay right there, MacGyver,” the voice coos, and Mac doesn’t need to look past the gun to know who’s holding it.

“Murdoc.”

“Oh, good. I didn’t shake your brain up too bad then. That bazooka can be a real doozy on the noggin.”

Bazooka?

“What did you-? Why are you-?”

“Ah, ah.” Murdoc tuts reproachfully. He squats down, slinging the rifle onto his pack and aiming a pistol at Mac’s forehead. “I know your mind is inquisitive to its own detriment, but you’ll need to have a bit of patience today.”

Mac groans, wincing against a killer headache. He can’t be sure if it’s from the car crash or his cold. Or maybe it’s both.

“You're a tough man to track down, MacGyver,” Murdoc says, standing again and planting his boot on Mac’s chest, gun still at the ready. “Fortunately for me, I have this nifty little program. Lets me know any time the Phoenix assigns a case to one Angus MacGyver. And since you were in the remote edges of Vermont and I was in the remote edges of Vermont, I figured I’d stop by. Say hello.”

For a moment, Mac drowns out Murdoc, trying to assess his situation.

In the middle of the woods. Trees. Maple, birch, spruce, pine. Northeast US, maybe still Vermont, though all bets are off with Murdoc.

On his back. Hands bound. Rope and duct tape. Feet are free.

Injuries. Head wound, concussion probable. Arms are okay. Pain and swelling in his left leg. Suspected femur fracture. Right leg is normal. And something about the abdomen. Something’s wrong…

Wait. Where’s-

Mac coughs, trying and failing to push Murdoc’s foot off. “Where's Jack?”

“Hm… Jack? I don't know if we've met.”

“You-” Mac coughs again, this time succeeding to push Murdoc away. He sits up slowly, head pounding. “You blew him up.”

“Ugh, Mac, you know you need to be more specific. I’ve blown up so many people that they've started to blend together.”

“He was in the car with me,” Mac growls. “Where is he?”

“I imagine he's still in the car.” Murdoc studies his nails, gun still trained on Mac.

Mac swallows hard. Jack must have survived. There's no alternative.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, MacGyver! Come on! I’ve got some fun things planned today, so why don’t you-” He jerks his head to the side. “Up, on your feet! There’s a good soldier.”

But Mac doesn’t stay on his feet for long, falling with his first step.

“I will admit,” Murdoc sighs, squatting down beside Mac again. “I wasn’t sure the bazooka was the best idea. Too many variables. But I also couldn’t not take the risk. I mean, I’ve been trying to kill you for years. When would I get a better opportunity?”

Mac groans. Pushes himself up on his hands.

“It does increase the risk of leg injuries, which makes moving you around a real pain in the ass. But there are ways.”

Well, if Mac’s heart wasn’t racing before, it definitely is now.

“This will be easier if you don’t fight me. Trust me; this is a mercy.”

And then the pistol cracks against Mac’s head, and everything goes dark.

---

“Så flådde han kråka og lema ho sund, hei fara og lema ho sund- oh.”

Mac frowns against a stabbing headache and a leg burning in agony. He’s not as cold as before, and the ground is drier. Wood.

“Forgive me,” Murdoc says airily. “I was workshopping lullabies. Still new to this parenting thing.” He sighs. “My mother used to sing me to sleep with that one: kråkevisa. It’s about a man who thinks a crow is out to kill him, so he kills the crow first. Then he makes shoes out of its skin and hangs the crow’s neck in the church. I suppose it’s her own fault that I tried to emulate the man. And there were no crows near my home, so I made do. Mother did make a lovely pair of shoes.”

This is far too much information. Mac can’t even process it. All he can do is look around, searching for threats.

“Where are we?” he murmurs.

“This is where I come to get away from it all,” Murdoc explains. “Cozy place, isn’t it?”

Mac sits up slowly, hands (still tied together, regretfully) immediately going to the dark red drenching his shirt. “Wh-?” He lifts the hem, finding a metal shard sticking out of his side. The wound was clotted, but sitting up tears it open again, bright red flowing over deep maroon.

Murdoc hums. “Car accident, I suspect. Not important, really. Just don't pull it out.” He shrugs. “Really, MacGyver, we have bigger fish to fry here.”

“Like what?” Mac grits out, holding pressure against the wound.

“You really have no sense of drama. But that’s okay. I like that about you.” He paces to a table. Mac can’t see what he’s doing. “So I’ll throw you a bone, just this once.

“You, my friend, have been an insufferable presence in my life since the day I was hired to kill you. I planned everything perfectly. I was stronger than you, more prepared than you, faster than you.” He picks up a tray and returns to Mac’s side, kneeling to look at Mac properly. “But you still managed to-” He sets the tray down with a sharp clatter. “-slip through my fingers.” His voice remains even, rhythm never faltering. “You were the one who got away. And ever since, I’ve been chasing you like a dog, trying to rectify that.”

Murdoc hums. Puts on a pair of white rubber gloves. “I think enough is enough, don’t you?”

Mac can’t stand up. Not with his leg swollen and (most likely) broken to hell. There’s no getting out of here. He sees two options:

He stalls long enough for someone to find him. But this requires someone to realize he’s missing. Even if Jack survived (and he must have survived, because Mac can’t live in a world without him), he’s probably just as lost as Mac is. Their best bet is that Riley or Bozer notice they’re missing. That will take a minimum of three hours, maybe four.

Or,

2. He incapacitates Murdoc and uses the items at his disposal to contact help.

It’s not a difficult choice.

“Remember, back in LA? When we had that little chat over nightshade and handcuffs?” He smiles, and it’s scarier than when he’s angry. “That was a good day.” And then his voice hardens to steel. “But you cut it short. I never got to pry Cassian’s location out of you.” He sighs. “I don't need his location anymore - obviously - but wouldn't it be a treat to have you give it up anyway? A nice dose of humiliation before I kill you.”

Mac glares up. He's not sure how effective it is when he's on the ground and bleeding. “So what? If I don't talk, I get to live?”

“Of course not,” Murdoc scoffs, screwing a needle to a syringe and stabbing a vial with it. “Living was never on the table. You either talk and die or get tortured for nothing and die. Your call.”

Mac shifts backwards. He can't help it. With Murdoc leering over him, needle glinting and malice-driven eyes gleaming, Mac’s every cell is screaming at him to get away. But in his state, moving just jars his leg, pain choking the breath from his lungs.

Murdoc is less than enthused. “You should leave the torturing to the expert.” And then he stabs Mac in the arm with the needle and depresses the plunger.

At first, Mac feels nothing at all. Just that absent but nagging concern about the mystery drug in his body. And then, things start to sink. The pain doesn’t go away - if anything, it’s worse - but his awareness is fluttery. Sounds are muffled at first and then ring for eons in his ears. The world is filtered with a blurry blue haze. Murdoc’s face comes in and out of focus.

“The belladonna clearly wasn’t enough last time. So I made my own… adjustments. But I’m sure you figured that out by now.”

Yeah. Mac definitely does not remember the sewers being like this.

“So I’ll ask nicely. Once. Where were you hiding my son?”

Mac coughs. Maybe it’s his cold. Maybe he’s about to vomit. He can’t decide. “I didn’t… I never knew… I didn’t even know he-”

Murdoc’s ring cuts Mac’s face as he backhands him. “Liar! You knew, and you kept it from me! You took a son away from his father, all under the guise of ‘protecting’ him.”

“No one… ever told me,” Mac swears.

And Murdoc nods once, expression stony. “You made me do this.”

Shiny. Cool steel. Brand new. Long and sharp and strong. Clamping. Pulling. Pressure. And then-

Mac can’t help it. He screams.

“Oh, come now, MacGyver,” Murdoc chides. “What’s one fingernail between friends? A ring fingernail, no less. Hardly important. Though the index nail is looking awfully tempting.”

“I…” His voice shakes so badly, he can barely speak. “I told you all I… all I know.”

“I doubt that.”

And then the middle and index nails are gone.

“Okay, so fingernails aren’t your kryptonite,” Murdoc says, barely sparing the writhing figure on the floor a second glance. “That’s fine. We can move on.” He hums, scanning his tray of tools, and then sighs. “I’m not feeling it. Nothing’s speaking to me. I’m going to have to get creative.”

Mac thinks, for only a moment, that perhaps this will be his reprieve. Maybe he’ll have a few seconds to breathe. But then there’s a sharp, twisting, cutting agony, ripping his insides to shreds.

“Funny thing about the human body: it will do anything to stop the bleeding. Even if there’s a foreign object in the wound, the body will still try its damnedest to heal around the sucker. So before you know it, that thing is basically melded into the skin. And even the slightest movement-” and here he twists the metal shrapnel viciously “-will tear the skin open all over again. Hurts so good, huh?”

Mac is leaning more towards “hurts” than “good,” but Murdoc doesn’t really want Mac’s opinion. He just wants to hear himself talk.

“So what do you say? Want to tell me now? I already have him, so it’s not like you’re hurting anyone. Barring yourself, of course.”

Mac doesn’t have the air to defend himself. But Murdoc interprets this as defiance. And in his own act of defiance, he rips the shrapnel from Mac’s side.

“Ooo, that must’ve hurt.”

But Mac can’t hear him over his own screams.

Murdoc drops the metal, returning to his tray. “How’s that leg feeling?”

Oh god. Not his leg. The leg that’s still throbbing, even under the agony of his side. Mac has a plan - thinks he has a plan - but if he wants it to work, he needs to act now.

Murdoc grabs a hammer and turns it in his hands. Then he shakes his head and grabs a meat mallet instead.

Mac has his hands on the shrapnel now, cutting away at the ropes. Murdoc doesn’t notice, though it’s only a matter of time before he does.

“So, tongue feeling looser yet?” Murdoc hasn’t looked up yet. He hasn’t looked up yet. He hasn’t-

“What are you doing?” Murdoc hisses, reaching out to snatch the metal away. But Mac is in pain and drugged and still has his stupid head cold, and his survival instincts are far past active. With a sudden burst of adrenaline-powered strength, Mac rips the last of the ropes and tape away and swipes out with the shrapnel. He catches Murdoc in the hand, but this only seems to make him angry.

Murdoc holds his injured hand to his chest and pulls out his pistol.

Mac doesn’t waste another moment, kicking out with his good leg and hitting Murdoc’s head. As he jerks to the side, Murdoc hits his head against the corner of the table and falls still. Later, Mac will look back with horror at how ridiculously lucky he was, but in the moment, Mac is just desperate to escape.

As gently as he can manage, Mac drags himself across the floor, grabbing Murdoc’s gun and pocketing the cartridge. Best to keep Murdoc away from loaded weapons.

Then, Mac grabs the rope hanging from the table (excess from the rope used to tie him up, no doubt), and secures Murdoc’s wrists and ankles. It’s not foolproof, but it’s a temporary fix until Mac can find something stronger.

After a moment to brace himself, Mac slowly, painfully slides himself around the room, trying to get a lay of the land. There are a multitude of torture weapons on the tray, of course, though few look like promising supplies. (Mac does grab the meat tenderizer though. Just in case Murdoc gets loose.) There’s an alarm clock on the table, which Mac manages to knock to the floor. There’s probably more up there, but Mac can’t see much past the table’s edge. Mac himself has a few paperclips and a stick of chewing gum. (Something about that feels cliche, though he has no idea why.)

The best find, however, is a drawer in the kitchenette. The moment Mac opens it, despite it being above his line of view, he instantly knows what it is: a junk drawer. Lord bless the person who invented junk drawers. They’ve saved Mac’s life on more than one occasion.

Feeling around, Mac procures a few tubes of used lip balm, more bullets, a pair of scissors, and a small coil of wire.

And Mac has all the makings of a quick and dirty spark-gap transmitter.

With shaky hands (and three fewer fingernails than usual), Mac removes the battery from the alarm clock. Then he connects it with the wire, leaving the rest of the coil to act as an electromagnet. Then he adds a paperclip across from a nail in the floorboards, forming a spark gap. Now Mac just needs a second battery.

Mac searches the junk drawer and the lower cabinets, coming across a forgotten smoke detector. It’s perfect. Just one problem though:

Mac can’t get the smoke detector open. He tugs and pries at the battery door, injured fingers curled into his palm. He uses the wires and the tenderizer and everything he can find, but nothing will open it. He hangs his head before trying to pry it open with his fingers again. He’s so close. He can’t lose now. One more battery - just one thing to complete the circuit - and he’ll have his transmitter. He’ll be able to signal for help. He’ll get out of here alive.

There’s a crash. Mac jumps, sending shockwaves of pain up his leg and through his abdomen. There’s clattering around the room. Cursing and rustling. Yelling and breaking glass and gun safeties. And then, footsteps approach Mac. Someone is trying to talk to him.

“Get… get away…” he pants, refusing to look up. “Back off.”

“Whoa, hey,” the voice says, and it’s that awful Texan drawl that makes Mac’s spirit soar. “It’s just me, hoss. I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Jack,” Mac breathes, allowing Jack to help him sit up. “I thought you were…”

“Yeah. Well. I’m not.” He jerks his head to the side. “No thanks to Jerkwad von Bazookaface over there.”

Murdoc is still bleary-eyed, surrounded by at least four SWAT officers.

“How did you…?” Mac looks at the nail on the floor, then back at Jack. “I didn’t finish the radio.”

“I don’t need a radio to find you.” It’s almost sweet, in a weirdly them type of way. “You left blood all over the place. Followed it like breadcrumbs to the witch’s candy house.”

Mac blinks. “You and I remember that fairytale very differently.”

“No, you just lack imagination.”

Mac sighs, sagging against Jack’s steady hand. “I am too high for this.”

Jack pats him reassuringly. “Definitely, buddy. Now, let’s get you outta here. There’s a bag of cough drops with your name on it on the plane.”

Mac doesn’t reply right away. He’s overwhelmed by a strange sense of… safety. “Hey, uh, Jack?”

“Hey, uh, what?”

“Thanks.”

Jack just smiles. “S’what brothers are for.”

#whumptober2024 #no.19 #blood trail #abandoned cabin #macgyver 2016 #fic #blood #non con drugging #needles #broken bones #car accident #angus macgyver #murdoc #jack dalton #cross posted on ao3

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eeriefinn · 3 days ago

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mac knowing that somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, thats he’s utterly in love with jack.

mac not fully realizing those feelings until jack is declared dead. all he has left are the memories he carries, the dog tags and what remains of jacks possesions.

mac keeping those dog tags close to his heart at all times, constantly looking at all the photos of him and the others with jack, sleeping in jack’s favorite band tees and clothes, listening to his favorite music and getting caught off guard when hearing those songs in public.

bozer, riley, and matty watching him decend deeper into his depression, but not able to do much of anything to pull him out of it. even with bozer having known mac the longest, jack was always the only person with the power to pull mac out of a spiral.

mac eventually realizing that jack wouldn’t want him to rot in bed all day and make himself suffer. mac working on himself and healing, and eventually going back on missions with his team, now including desi, and moving forward with his life. even though the jack shaped hole in his chest can never be closed, he lives on, forms new friendships and bonds, and refuses to give in and give up.

matty revealing that jack has been found alive, and is in a hospital halfway across the world. and suddenly his world is crumbling down around him all over again. he has done all this moving forward and healing for what, just to leave jack behind? he shouldn’t have given up on him, he should have second guessed everything and searched harder. but now isn’t the time for regrets or sorrow, he has to go to jack.

mac walking into jacks hospital room just to break down in tears of pure joy and relief. to be able to see the face and smile of the man he’s loved so deeply all these years. finally getting to hug and feel that jack is truly here, truly alive.

jack slowly recovering and finally getting the okay to return home. mac offering to let jack stay with him for as long as he’d like, all his stuff is there anyways, mac couldn’t being himself to throw any of it away. mac worrying about not being able to hide his feelings while living with jack, but not being able to refuse the comfort of having jack nearby at all times.

mac never returning jacks dog tags, still keeping them close to his heart. theyve become too dear to him to let go of.

mac and jack having movie nights with take out and beers on the deck by the firepit, just like old times. talking about what they had gone through in the past few years. the grief, the pain, the trauma, everything but ache in his chest that mac so dearly wishes he could ignore.

mac and jack stargazing one summer night, leaning into each other and telling stories of growing up and lighter things. accidentally locking eyes during a lull of silence. mac breaking and deciding to let jack finally see the love and affection in his eyes that he’s always tried so hard to hide. jack knowing exactly what mac is trying to say with just his gaze; they’ve always been able to communicate with just a glance.

jack caressing macs face with a gun calloused hand and leaning in for a tender kiss. the kiss is salty from their mixed tears, but they’re too happy to truly care. jack pulling away first and wiping away macs tears. putting out the firepit and huddling into macs bed. being able to finally hold each other, and talk about the feelings they’ve both held onto for so long. a tender night of confessions and cuddling, one they’ll cherish forever.

mac waking up by the sunrise and turning in the arms holding him, and finally getting to see the man he loves so closely and intimately. seeing jacks sleeping face lit up by the gentle sunbeams of the early morning, and realizing that the night before wasn’t merely a dream.

mac finally feeling whole once again, the jack shaped hole in his heart finally filled.

#macdalton #jackgyver #angus macgyver #jack dalton #angus macgyver x jack dalton #mac x jack #macgyver 2016 #i love them.. so much #desperately need more macdalton content in my life #song inspired #Spotify #wishing i had the brain to write an actual fic #maybe someday…

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ariwritessometimes · 2 months ago

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Meet Me in the Middle (When the Hourglass Breaks)

Mac loses his memory, and Jack and Riley have to help him navigate his current life while his mind is reset back to the countdown days of the Sandbox.

Ari's Cairo Catch-Up: 2021 Prompt "Army Days"

#macgyver 2016 #macgyver 2016 fic #jack dalton #angus macgyver #macgyver #macgyver fic #ari's cairo catch-up #riley davis #im not like *back* back but #have this in the meantime

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boolger · 5 months ago

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Just like that movie - Macgyver

Macgyver 2016. MDNI. 18+. Look at me writing something for the Macgyver fandom for once, hm. This isn’t checked through for mistakes, so there will probably be some, sorry <‘3

Tags: Hint of Dennis Murdoc x Angus Macgyver, implied Jack Dalton x Angus Macgyver. References to the shining, axe, violence, shooting, fire, Murdoc is being Murdoc. Death threats. Joke about being queer. threat of non-con.

Don’t think to deeply over the details in this one. Also don’t play with fire.

🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓🪓

Mac rushed through the doors, turning to the right in a sharp movement, stopping for a moment, just to listen.

His whistling echoed throughout the old house, bouncing through the rooms, only to be interrupted by the occasional “oooh Anguuus~”. Everytime Murdoc almost sang his name, Mac wanted to punch him in the face. His eyes flickered around in the room he was currently hiding in.

The entire house was old, with water damage crawling down the walls, filled with dusty and damp furniture that was haunted by the memories and from being abandoned for years. Graffiti on the walls, things ripped from its places.

A crash echoed throughout the house.

“Booooy scooout.”

There was no electricity in the room, but Mac could work without it; he just had to find the right components to create chaos with. Preferably something that blew up; starting a fire would honestly work too.

Murdoc with a gun was one thing - but Murdoc, stalking him through an old house, with a fucking axe? Another kind of horror, pulled directly from The Shining. Except Murdoc was just Murdoc. His usual, crazy self.

It wouldn’t be long before the team found him, Mac knew that - he trusted Jack and the others to appear soon. Maybe he should have a damn tracker put in him, like Riley had suggested, so they could always find him.

As Murdoc chopped his way through a door nearby, a manic laughter leaving him, Mac snuck off to further down the hallway.

“This isn’t funny if you don’t come out soon, Macgyver,” Murdoc crooned, Mac turning into a smaller hallway before he saw him, “or well. You don’t need to ‘come out’ come out, we both know you’re not straight, don’t we Angus?”

Asshole.

Usually Mac would reply to Murdoc’s baiting, but he didn’t particularly feel like giving himself away. He dipped into a different room, picking up a radio on the way, as well as some discarded steel wool on the floor. Finally luck seemed to be on his side— a manic laughter was heard, closer than Mac particularly wanted it to be.

As he rushed from the room to the next, the door made a noise behind him, making him cringe - while he heard the sound of the axe being dragged along the floor.

“Ohoho,” Murdoc laughed loudly, smugly, “I can hear you Angus!”

Mac almost ran past a bathroom, but he made the detour inside - opening the little closet beneath the sink. A lot hadn’t been left untouched; but a rubbing alcohol was there. Mac almost cried with delight, muttering at himself to hurry up. The moment the dark blonde stepped out of the bathroom and looked down the hallway, his gaze met his enemy’s.

A small “Fuck,” left him, Murdoc grinning, all of his teeth showing, the axe in hand, slowly raising it.

“Only if you ask nicely,” the leather clad man promised darkly — but Mac didn’t stay behind to point out how fucking creepy that was; it was Murdoc. He knew it was. Instead Mac booked it down the opposite way, Murdoc laughing as he sprinted after him.

Mac only just managed to get inside a room - dropping his things before he pushed a desk in front of it. While it didn’t make pushing open the door easy, it was no help against the axe. As the weapon collided with the wooden door the first time, Angus pulled his SAK from his pants, hurryingly breaking open the back of the radio with it.

As he ripped the battery out, the axe hit the door once again, the tip of the metal peeping through the wood. Mac was almost proud his hands weren’t shaking as he picked up the steel wool, stretching it out a little.

For a short second, Mac looked over his shoulder, at the window; he was up high, third floor and the mere thought made him want to throw up. Why did Murdoc have to choose this giant place of all places?

As the axe once more connected with the door, Mac rubbed the battery and steel wool together; just as Murdoc peeked his head through, no doubt with plans of citing the famous line from the Shining, Mac blew on the wool, creating a few sparkles of fire — so Mac threw it, instantly turning around to the window.

He felt the blast from the fire behind him, a loud scream leaving Murdoc as the fire almost burned off his eyebrow no doubt. He opened the window, trying his best not to look down or look at the flames that grew even bigger with the new oxygen. Murdoc was screaming his name, not with fear of his death, but with the promise that he would get him back.

Mac looked to the side - he would almost be able to reach the window from the room next door - but the mere idea of falling was making him want to throw up. Instead he looked up.

With a quick decision he crawled up instead of to the side or attempting to jump down. The roof tiles were crumbling as he managed to pull himself up, moss covered and old. Mac hurried further off the roof, afraid of falling down.

It would be a matter of time before the fire licked its way up to him - and as he looked out, trying to keep his eyes on the horizontal line, as Jack always told him to do, he saw several cars approaching at high speed. Fucking finally. A tile slid out from beneath his hand, a whimper leaving him as he unintentionally looked down, as it scrambled down the roof and down to its death.

On to see the familiar, dark leather-clad monster that often haunted his dreams. The moment Mac saw him, it was almost too late. It was more luck than judgment than he managed to move in time, the bullet grazing his arm instead of his face. As Mac’s eyes flickered to Murdoc again, grabbing onto the unstable tiles, the pale man was grinning. His gun was gone - and he blew a kiss up at Mac instead, turning around and disappearing into the woods. Like a monster, retreating into the obscurity it came from.

The cars all stopped violently, Jack yelling his name as Murdoc’s figure disappeared in between the trees. He would be back to haunt Mac again, the blonde already knew that. He could feel the fire getting closer, his stomach becoming warm, smoke beginning to envelop him.

As he crawled towards a roof window, trying not to panic, his arm was pulsing with pain from the shot.

When he left the house, he saw the axe, stuck in the wall, next to his name, written in dark graffiti - a heart drawn around it.

Mac tried to forget the sight, as Jack drew him into his arms, instantly promising to kill the Murdoc.

#boolger #my writing #fanfiction #macgyver 2016 #jack dalton macgyver #dennis murdoc #murdoc macgyver #Macgyver 2016 fanfic #one shot #macgyver fic #angus macgyver #Angus mavgyver x Dennis Murdoc #Angus Macgyver x Jack Dalton

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whumpapalooza · 2 months ago

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@whumpcember '24 - Dec. 7 Prompt: Kidnapped

Preview:

Jack’s knees bent with relief. “Oh, it’s good to hear your voice.” He snapped his fingers to get everyone else’s attention. Riley and Bozer’s heads snapped up, and Matty crossed the room to stand beside Jack as he spoke. “Mac, are you okay? You safe?” he asked, and turned on the speakerphone.

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

The room visibly relaxed, but Jack repeated, “Are you safe?”

“I should be. Murdoc’s not stupid enough to come after me in public.”

#whumpcember24 #whumpcember24 day 7 #macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #episode tag fic #kidnapped whumptrope #drugged whumptrope #worried friends whumptrope

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ash5monster01 · 10 months ago

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Ground Rules

Pairing: Angus Macgyver x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, just two first time parents trying to figure it out

Summary: Much to your dismay your shared child seems to take after Mac and his curious ways. You had heard the stories about his unique childhood and if you didn’t get it under control soon, your daughter was bound to follow right in his foot steps.

word count: 1.5k

Masterlist

When you had first started dating Mac there had never really been any rules. It wasn’t until you moved in together you finally had to put some in place. You had tripped over one to many contraptions and been a little too close to some minor explosions that had you deciding on no experiments in the house. After a minor fight he finally agreed and Mac followed that rule to the best of his abilities and you appreciated him for it.

What you had never expected was having a kid just like him. You don’t know why it never crossed your mind that it was possible for your child to have Mac’s intelligence. To be honest you wished you would’ve and you could’ve prepared yourself for all that was to come with a curious mind desperate to learn. You had heard all those stories about Mac when he was a kid, blowing up football fields and smoking out labs, but none of it ever really felt real until now. They finally felt real because your daughter had now taken it upon herself to do science experiments anywhere she can.

You had left for only ten minutes. That was it. Ten peaceful minutes to go out and do some minor yard work. She was reading a Nancy Drew book on the couch when you left but when you had returned, the eight year old girl had covered the kitchen in what looked like some sort of green foam. It takes your mind only a second to go haywire, panic setting in, fear of chemicals, and misdirected anger at your husband.

“Jackie! What is going on?” you rush towards her, making quick work of pulling her away from the mess.

“Elephant toothpaste, I saw it on TV and Dad told me how to make it” you were sure smoke was steaming out of your ears by now. As proud as you were for how smart your daughter was, these actions could become hazardous.

“Honey, I need you to tell me what exactly is in elephant toothpaste?” you ask as calmly as you can, keeping your voice even as if to not scare her off.

“Hydrogen peroxide, yeast, dish soap, water, and food coloring for some fun!” she claps excitedly, eyeing that very mixture on the kitchen counter. Now calming over the harmless ingredients you look at where she has some foam now stuck in her curly blonde hair.

“All that made a huge mess in my kitchen?” you ask, reaching for a dish towel and wiping away as much as you can in her hair.

“Well I tripled the recipe for a bigger explosion” she says as if the sentence alone doesn’t make your heart stutter. Letting out a deep sigh you stand back up and start to guide her to the bathroom.

“You definitely are you father’s daughter” you mutter, hands squeezing her shoulders.

“You should’ve seen it Mom, it was huge!” she cheers excitedly as you start down the hallway.

“Let’s get you in the bath” you tell her and she just smiles wide, clearly content with what she had just accomplished and you now had to clean up.

Once filling the tub with warm water you help your daughter step out of her elephant toothpaste splattered dress and into the bath. Offering her a bath bomb she keeps her curious mind occupied as you step out and figure out how to prepare yourself for the cleaning you had ahead of you.

“What happened here?” you find your blonde husband with an amused smile on his face, eyes scanning the green foam.

“Someone decided to make elephant toothpaste, have any idea where she got that from?” you ask crossing your arms and Mac looks up to find you are not as amused as him in this situation.

“Shit baby I’m so sorry. I didn’t think she’d actually attempt it, much less inside the house” he says walking over to you and you sigh, trying your best to not place all the blame on him.

“It’s fine, I just have to figure out how to clean it now” you say, hands reaching up to push the hair out of your face. It had already been a long day and the last thing you needed was this.

“It’s okay, I got it. I’ve done elephant toothpaste a time or two” he says, hands reaching to squeeze each of your arms, and you offer a weak smile.

“She’s gonna be trouble, just like you” you say with an accusing finger and Mac smiles before pulling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Maybe, but at least I know how to handle it. When I was blowing things up I never had anyone who understood me” Mac says and you give him a panicked look.

“I didn’t say anything about blowing things up” you tell him, head beginning to shake and Mac quickly stops you.

“I know but I happened to remove an entire football field once in my life. Maybe I can keep hers contained to a small park or something” he teases but you give him a stern look that says you’re not ready to joke about this just quite yet.

“How about no explosions and no more experiments in our home?” you say and Mac clearly mulls it over. You know he wants to cater to his daughter’s curious mind, provide her with every opportunity he could to learn, but could that be done at the expense of your kitchen?

“One explosion and experiments in the yard?” he counter offers and you sigh.

“No explosions and experiments small enough to not alert neighbors in the yard” you finalize and he nods with a grin.

“I can accept that” he says before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Now where’s our little scientist, I want to applaud her”

“She’s taking a bath, you can say hi after you clean up this mess” you tell him, hands pressing against his chest and in the direction of the green foam.

“And what about you?” he asks, a small pout to his lips and you slowly press a kiss to them. The pout gone in seconds.

“I’m going to help her out of the bath and then we’re going to set some rules” you tell him and he nods, saluting you as you walk back to the bathroom to find Jackie hadn’t even washed her hair yet.

It’s only an hour later you finally have the small girl in fresh pajamas, damp hair combed, and sat between you and Mac on the couch. The Nancy Drew book from before is open on her lap and you finally give Mac a look to tell him it’s time to set some rules and create boundaries for her.

“Jackie honey?” you coo, fingers reaching to push away the book for a moment.

“Yeah Mom?” she says, half distracted and trying to chase the page as it moves away from her.

“We wanted to talk to you about your little experiment today” you tell her and Mac nodded, blue eyes finding his daughter’s matching ones.

“Yeah honey, just a quick chat” and at her father’s words she finally closes the book on her lap.

“We love that you enjoy learning new things. It’s amazing the things you already understand, but we need to set some rules” you tell her and a sad look flashes across her features in seconds.

“You made a big mess today, one that worried your Mom. So there can’t be anymore experiments in the house” Mac says and the girls is instantly defeated, a gasp leaving her mouth.

“But Dad, it was just elephant toothpaste. It wasn’t dangerous!” she whines and Mac shakes his head, staying firm and on your side.

“Yeah but your Mom didn’t know that. So there is going to be no more experiments in this house unless approved and supervised by one of us” he tells her and her lip instantly quivers as her arms cross over her chest.

“But you and Dad can do as many experiments in the yard as you want and he’s also agreed to bring you to his lab at work once a week to learn something new” you comfort the sad girl, arm wrapping around her.

“You promise?” she asks, hopeful eyes looking up at her Dad.

“Of course honey, pinky promise. We want you to grow and learn but science can be dangerous and it’s important we treat every experiment as that” he tells her and she nods even though you know she’s not entirely on board yet.

“Does that mean I have to tell you about the habitat I’m growing in my closet?” she whispers and you flash a worried look to Mac who is trying his best not to laugh.

“Well, why don’t we go find out” he says, standing and lifting the girl to dangle over his shoulder. The giggles and squeals she lets out are a stark contrast to the somber mood she was just in and you can’t help but smile as you watch them disappear down the hallway.

“Is that a toad?!” you hear Mac’s voice bellow down the hallway and you are quick to stand to your feet and rush down the hallway.

“Oh hell no”

Taglist: @mayfieldss

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