#Riley davis

[bug4932]

@heyitschartic how delightful!

#screenshot bc i wanted to answer from my worm blog #parahumans #wormblr #parart #ask #riley davis #ashley stillons

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

two of the transfems youre friends with have been talking to you about the clinic they got their bottom surgery done at. apparently its dirt cheap, and the surgeon - despite some oddities and, your friends admit, poor hygiene - is incredibly talented. theyre more than happy to give you her phone number when you ask, and while it sounds simultaneously incredibly sketchy and way too good to be true, at this point youre just so broke, desperate, and tired of gatekeepers that you're willing to give it a shot.

you call on a thursday afternoon, and the call is picked up on the fourth ring, when youre just gearing up to hear an answering machine. the voice on the other end sounds like a middle-aged woman with a smoking habit trying to sound like a cheery, bubbly young girl, and mostly succeeding. hiiiii! what can i do for you? she asks. you say er im looking for a surgical clinic is this the right number? she says mhm! thats me. you say okay, i just have a few questions. she says shoot. you say do you take patients who arent referred to you? she says nobody refers patients to me so yes. then she giggles. youve never heard somebody pull off a giggle in real life. you ask okay, so ive been looking for a place to get my metoidoplasty done, can you do that here? she says i dont know what that is give me like five seconds. then the line goes silent. you can hear her typing on a mechanical keyboard and humming to herself as she reads. youre now convinced that this is not in any way a legitimate medical institution.

youre about to hang up when she comes back on the line. OH you need a dick she says. sure i can do that! does tuesday afternoon work for you? i have that morning free too but i HATE getting up in the mornings so id rather not schedule it if i have to. you say tuesday afternoon is fine, how long should i expect the visit to be? she says i dont know like seven hours? you say seven hours? she says yeah give or take a few, every person is different so i dont know what itll be like until ive got your cunt opened up. honestly probably best to take the whole day off just in case it turns out to be a tough operation. you dont respond to that immediately. she says oh shoot should i not use the word cunt, is that too gendered? sorry. you say no its fine. you say i thought i was just going in for a consult? she says i mean yeah if youd rather. i dont mind doing same-day but some people like having more time to think about their options. do you have somewhere to be tuesday night or something? you say no its just... no tuesday afternoon should be fine. she says okay great!

she gives you her address. she says knock three times so i know its you and not my parole officer. parole officer you ask? she says im being good i promise but i still hate talking to him hes boring. you say if you dont mind me asking what were you imprisoned for? she says the ones i plead guilty to at the trial were a hundred and ninety-two counts of first-degree murder with a parahuman ability, two hundred and fifty-six counts of physical and emotional torture with a parahuman ability, five hundred and six counts of intentional infliction of emotional distress with a parahuman ability, four hundred ninety-eight counts of aggravated assault and battery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty five counts of domestic terrorism with a parahuman ability and two hundred and twelve counts without, three counts of arson, two hundred forty two counts of burglary with a parahuman ability, three hundred eight four counts of robbery with a parahuman ability, four hundred twenty seven counts of abduction with a parahuman ability, a hundred eighty six counts of human trafficking with a parahuman ability, three hundred ninety counts of destruction of public property with a parahuman ability, eighty counts of possession of a controlled substance, more than three thousand conspiracy and complicity charges in various felonies, eighteen violations of the Geneva Conventions, and the unauthorized practice of medicine. i plead not guilty to the larceny, sexual assault, contempt of court, corporate espionage, and identity theft charges and the prosecutor didnt really try to fight it since i had already earned seventy life sentences from the other stuff so im technically innocent of those.

you dont say anything to that.

after three seconds of silence she says sooooooooo i'll see you tuesday? you say tuesday, yeah. what was your name again? Riley, she says. Riley Grace Davis. you say thanks again and then hang up.

you debate constantly during the intervening days whether you should go on tuesday. youre grateful your friend group is so slutty; it means youve already seen with your own eyes that this surgery is real and not just a lure to murder you. still, you have some reservations, which you think is perfectly understandable.

you call one of your friends whos been there already. she picks up and you say if this is a joke its only sort of funny. she says if whats a joke? you say the clinic. you say you DID give me the actual number to the place where you actually had your bottom surgery done right? she says yeah, dont worry the surgeons so sweet. you say she admitted to doing two hundred murders when she was on the phone. she says i dont know anything about that but i trust her. you say if i end up dead, kidnapped, or mutilated, its your fault. she says dont worry about it.

tuesday comes. you never agreed to an exact time so you show up as early as you can and still have it be "afternoon" in your mind - 12:30. you climb the rusted fire escape to the third floor door and knock three times. the door is answered by a woman six feet tall in casual but very nice clothes with frizzy brown hair and an expression you cant read. you say er, riley? she says nope. another girl pushes past her, exasperated. she's maybe five foot two and her wavy blonde hair is worn down, with a red bow in it. she's wearing torn jeans - naturally torn, not the sort that you buy with holes in them that youve always hated but the kind that were once normal jeans and now have worn through much of the fabric on the knees. her tshirt is faded and has stains that you cant quite place on it, but youre pretty sure it was once Eidolon merchandise.

she says damnit amy let me answer the door next time. the taller woman, amy apparently, shrugs and steps aside to let you in riley claps her hands together once youre inside and the door is shut. introductions! she shouts. amy, this is, er... I never actually got your name? you tell them your name. she says right! hes one of my clients. and this is Amy, my sister. dont worry about her, shes just a little awkward. amy says can you PLEASE not introduce me as your sister. riley says make me. then she grabs amys shirt and pulls her down, standing on her tiptoes at the same time. they kiss in a very un-sisterly way. you clear your throat politely.

riley breaks away and says right, yeah, sorry! i get distracted easy. youre here to get a dick right. you splutter a bit, both at the bluntness of the question and the fact that amy is still standing right there. riley follows your gaze. she says oh dont worry about her! sorry, i wouldve run her off earlier, i thought you wouldnt come by for another few hours. you say sorry. she says dont worry, its her fault. amy says you didnt tell me you had a client. riley says you didnt ASK. you clear your throat politely again. you say er yes, i did come in for metoidoplasty. she bites her lip and furrows her brow. she says metoido... oh right. well i dont really do that here but i can give you a dick. you say uh im not really interested in phalloplasty. she says whats phalloplasty? amy says its the construction of a penis, usually via tissue flap taken from another part of the body, often followed by the insertion of prosthetics to allow the constructed penis to achieve erection. riley says oh, huh. yeah i dont do that either. i can give you a dick though. she takes a second then puts on an exaggerated scowl. who would want that she asks? amy says lots of people prefer it to metoido for aesthetic reasons or because they dont think theyll be large enough for penetrative sex with metoido. riley says but it wouldnt feel like a dick! man, some surgeons are talentless hacks.

you clear your throat again. you say so if youre- riley says youre clearing your throat a lot, are you okay? you say im fine, its just- she says oh duh were being so rude! why are we all standing around here. come sit down in the living room, do you want anything to drink? she leads you into the living room. it has the unmistakable air of a room thats been cleaned recently, with vacuuming marks present in the carpet and the unmistakable scent of air freshener. the sofa that you're gestured to sit on is, by contrast, unbelievably filthy. stains of every sort are visible on it - some of them are obvious, like the patches of blood and vomit or the ring of a coffee mug. others take you a second to place, like the crusty streak along one cushion that you realize all at once is semen, or the sticky yellow parts that you hope to god are honey. some of them, like the muddy green handprint along one arm of the sofa or the deep black smudge along a seat, are completely foreign to you. you can smell it from several feet away.

amy notices your hesitancy. she says i keep telling her to throw that thing out. riley says and i keep telling HER that its a relic from earth bet! its an antique and itll be worth millions soon. it just needs a good deep cleaning. amy says what that sofa needs is a bullet, not a deep clean. you sit down. drink? riley asks. you say er what do you have? she says water, diet coke, vodka, coffee. no more beer though, SOMEBODY drank the last one. amy says you never said they were off limits! riley says they arent, im just teasing. you say waters fine. riley says aaaaaaaaaamyyyyyyy, could you pleeeeeeaaaaaaaase go get our guest a glass of water and me a diet coke? oh and can you grab the pill bottle on the second shelf of the spice cabinet. amy says sure, i'll be right back.

riley sits down next to you. she says sooooooo what do you want for your dick? you say sorry, if youre not doing phallo or metoido then what exactly are you offering? she says no offense but it would take like literally eight years to give you enough background info for you to understand my explanation, and i dont have that kind of time. im not getting any younger. except for when i am. she laughs louder than you thought a human could. you have no idea how to describe the sound of her laughter. she says just tell me about your dream dick and ill give it to you. trust me, im a doctor.

except that youre not, amy says, returning with glasses and pills in hand. she sets the water down in front of you and you immediately take large gulps, feeling very much lost right now. riley says am TOO, accepting the pill bottle and diet coke from amy. she frowns. why is it can diet coke, she asks? she says glass bottle is so much better. she says why did i even BUY can. amy says they are literally the same liquid, what do you mean its better. riley says theyre not the same, stop deluding yourself. amy says which of us is the REAL doctor? riley says both of us! the PRT finally issued me an equivalency. youre talking to doctor riley davis, MED. amy says oh really? congrats she says. riley beams. then she unscrews the lid of the unlabeled, dark brown glass bottle, grabs three pills, and pops them into her mouth.

what is that you ask. ectasy she says. you want some? you say no thanks. she says you sure? you say i probably shouldnt take drugs before an operation, what if it interacts with the anesthetic? riley says dont worry, i made my own anesthetic that has zero drug-drug interactions. amy says except with sudafed. riley says ok YEAH except with sudafed, how was i supposed to know? she glances at you. you dont take sudafed do you she asks. you say no. she says good. it was such a bitch cleaning the pus off the ceiling she says. you say huh? she says dont worry about it, you dont take sudafed. she says are you sure you dont want any ecstasy? i promise its pure. you say i dont want to get addicted. she says i can surgically remove the addiction pathway from your brain if that would help. amy says riley, no means no. riley says fine. do you want any ecstasy babe? she says no thanks. riley frowns. she says you guys are a bunch of squares. she pops a fourth one and starts chugging diet coke.

she slams the can down after drinking what must be half of it, wipes her mouth with her arm and grins. sorry, we keep getting distracted! she says. she says im getting into the start of a manic episode and that always makes me roll right over people in conversation. what do you want for your dick? you say um. i hadnt really thought about it. its not normally a choice beyond the type of surgery, you sort of just end up with whatever the doctors are able to make work? thats lame she says. why are normal doctors all so lame she says. ok, rude amy says. OBVIOUSLY im not talking about you babe riley says. and stop distracting me from my client! amy holds up her hands in mock surrender, an easy smile on her face.

you didnt bring a toy with you did you, riley asks. you say huh. she says sometimes people bring a toy that they want me to model it after and that makes everything a lot easier. you say no you didn't. you say i hadn't really thought about my preferences, can we go dealer's choice on this? amy pipes up. she says you REALLY dont want riley to go dealers choice. riley says shut up and get me another diet coke, i just finished this one. amy says yes princess. you honestly cant read whether it was meant to be mocking or endearing. riley turns back to you. ok, she says, lets start with basics. primate? canid? equine? suine? dolphin? i could give you a hyena pseudopenis but i dont know if that would be offensive. you say human is fine. she says please dont tell me you're gonna just be boring this whole time. you say define boring. she sighs deeply and starts massaging her temples. amy, having stepped into the room in time to hear the last bit of conversation, tousles rileys hair. she says sorry babe, customer's always right.

you work out the appearance of your soon-to-exist cock this way. riley asks questions about length, girth, hair, amount of semen generated, percentage growth when erect, and you try to give what you think are average answers every time. amy watches, bemused, the whole time. halfway through she leaves to get the bottle of vodka. she drinks five shots in fifteen minutes. you say i didnt think the human body had that much capacity for alcohol resistance. she says it doesnt. riley swats playfully at her arm.

eventually, riley grabs a set of crayons and a cocktail napkin. she says ok, i think we got it, scribbling furiously. she shows you a crayon drawing of a dick. this look good she asks? you squint at it. there are no measurements given and the medium does not allow you to make out any fine detail. you say yeah thats fine. amy tries and fails to hide a smile. riley chucks the napkin aside and rubs her hands together. boring parts done! she says. time to get messy she says. amy pours a sixth shot of vodka. she says dont forget the anesthetic first. riley rolls her eyes. she says OBVIOUSLY i didnt forget the anesthetic. she says ill be right back. as soon as she leaves the room, amy knocks back her shot. she turns to you. she says you mind if i stay and watch? she says i dont want to make you uncomfortable, but i like watching her work. shes cute when shes working. you say at this point youre not sure you would mind anything at all. you say at this point you dont think you would be fazed if she came back with a fully-formed dick wriggling around in her hand like a fish and sewed it onto me. she says dont tempt fate.

riley comes back with a black bag the size of her head, which she sets on the coffee table with a thunk. she points at you and says okay, clothes off. or pants off i guess. you can leave the shirt on. or take it off. i dont care. you take it off. she tells you to lie down and starts pulling things out of the bag. amy stands up from the sofa to give you the space to stretch out and sits on the coffee table instead, one leg pulled up to her chest with her chin resting on her knee.

riley pulls out a syringe from the bag, filled with pitch-black fluid. she says okay this will hurt for a second but only for a second. you say huh? she flips you over onto your belly and jabs the needle against your lower back, into your spinal column. it hurts like a bitch for all of two seconds and then you stop feeling anything at all in your lower body. you also cant move your legs, you realize. what just happened you ask, as she flips you onto your back again. she says i just killed all the cells in the nerves in your lower spine. she says its the easiest way to make sure none of the pain signals slip through, and she'll just replace them with living ones when she's done. you don't know how to respond to that.

she pulls more things out of the bag. a cartoonish array of different cutting implements come out. most of them are various sizes of medical scalpel, ring cutter, or saw, but you also see a pair of chunky pink safety scissors, a pizza cutter, a serrated bread knife, an x-acto, a drill with a comically long bit, a pair of wire cutters, gardening shears, and an awl. she says okay im gonna start operating so look away if you dont wanna see how your crotch looks while its being rearranged. especially if you think you might puke, i hate having to stop to clean up puke in the middle of surgery. you look away. you notice amy is watching transfixed.

for a couple of hours things go on like that. amy and riley make light conversation, with riley filling any silence by humming a wordless tune you dont know. the sounds and smells youre getting are enough to make you slightly sick; you continue not looking.

in the middle of hour two, riley stops. oh goddamnit, she says. what amy asks? riley says she forgot that shed need extra meat. amy says you started a surgery to give somebody a whole new organ and forgot youd need more tissue to do it? riley says shut up, im dumb. amy says no youre not babe. riley says ughhhhh now what. amy says just get his stem cells to grow the tissue you need. riley says nooooooo thatll take forever, and i have places to BE tomorrow, and if i stop putting pressure on him here hes going to bleed out through his cunt. you say wait, what? amy says well i dont know what you want me to do about this situation, i gave you my solution. riley says baaaaaaaaaaabe. amy says whaaaaaaaaaaaat. riley says i think we have some bacon in the fridge, will you pretty please with sprinkles on top go get it? amy says and what do i get in return? riley says a kiss. amy says id get that anyway. riley says my undying love and affection. amy says i have that already. riley says not making me angry at you so you can sleep under my roof without having to worry that ill turn your sweat glands into acid glands in the middle of the night. amy says that, plus i get to top tonight. riley says fiiiiiiiiine, just go get the bacon. amy gets up.

you say look uh i know you said not to question what youre doing but i kind of dont want a dick made of bacon, not to sound ungrateful. also did you say something about me bleeding out? riley says dont worry, if you bleed out ill put the blood back in, im a professional. you say thats not as reassuring as she thinks it is. riley says whos the doctor, mister? you say technically both of us. i have a phd in social sciences you say. she says wow, theyre just giving out doctorates for anything these days, huh? you say hey, rude. she says only teasing. you say anyway, uh, you didnt address the bacon dick thing? she says oh dont worry about it, my amys amazing, youll see.

amy comes back in with the package of bacon. do you need this in any particular shape she asks. riley says nah just give me a good amount of it. and make sure its spongy, so when he gets hard the blood can- amy cuts her off. she says dont worry, ive given you enough penises at this point that i think i know what penile tissue is like at this point. you say given her enough penises? what the hell does that mean? riley says hey, dont kinkshame! she sounds legitimately offended. you say sorry. amy pulls the bacon out of the package, holding it aloft in her left hand. you watch as the familiar look of a half-pound of bacon shifts and warps into a strange lump of fatty, spongy tissue of a waxy color. she hands it to riley. riley says thanks sis youre the best, love you! amy says no problem. riley says id kiss you if i wasnt elbow deep in this guys cunt right now. amy says kiss me after the surgerys done.

another two hours go by. the sounds of flesh being chopped, sawed, and stitched underscore riley and amys meaningless conversation about whether they HAVE to attend their acquaintance lisa's birthday party. riley says lisa probably wouldn't throw a birthday party if there wasn't some sort of scheme going on. amy agrees but says that doesnt indicate whether they should get involved with the scheme or not. you wonder dimly if you will ever feel your lower body again. you wonder if this is purgatory, an endless afternoon of lesbians bickering affectionately while one of them does surgery on you. you turn your head enough to look at the clock. its 5:26pm. where the fuck did the time go?

another hour passes. riley stands up. she is soaked up to her elbow in various bodily fluids - mostly blood, but youre not looking too closely. she says finally! she says just need to regrow your nerve cells now. you say is that going to take long? she says like twenty minutes maybe as she flips you over. you say ok. she jams a different needle into the same spot, injecting a strange yellow paste into your spine. she then flips you onto your back again. you feel brave enough to finally look at your crotch.

there is a completely normal human penis of average size there. you reach a hand down and touch it. you dont have any sensation in it yet since your nerves are all still dead, but it feels warm and soft under your hands. you smile, feeling tears come to your eyes. its over.

rileys talking. she says i followed your specifications except i had to cheat a bit on the nerves, you actually didnt have very many in your clit for whatever reason so your glans has maybe eight thousand fewer nerves than you wanted, sorry about that. she says i gave you balls in your scrotum for shape but since you said you didnt want kids they dont produce sperm. let me know if you want that changed she says. she says it should be fully functional in every respect, but if you notice any erectile dysfunction, incontinence, discoloration in urine or semen, priapism, or any other issue come back and we'll sort it out. if you notice it bleeding in ANY capacity, call me immediately. if im not answering call Amy, ill give you her number. if SHES not answering either then you can start seeing normal doctors, not that those idiots will know how to help you probably. if you want any changes to it call me and ill pencil you in to get it adjusted. get all that she asks. you nod. she says cool. she says itll be like $200, no rush if youre not able to pay right now. you say it might be a bit since youre still trying to pay interest on your student loan debt. wait, she says, they have student loans again? you nod. she says the world ended like thirty years ago, when did they set up student loans again? fuck, how much do you owe? you say a little under eighty thousand. she says jesus fuck, nevermind, its free. goddamn. you say thank you so much. she says yeah of course. do you want us to dress you or do you want to wait until you can move and do it yourself?

#wormblr #parahumans #worm spoilers #riley davis #riley grace davis #bonesaw #nsft #amy dallon #panacea #MY BELOVED GIRL. IS BACK #our writing #dr riley davis mde

[mayfieldss]

12 hours - Angus Macgyver

Synopsis: when you are taken hostage, Mac has to figure out a way to find you, though with feelings involved it's not like any other case.

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, mentions of blood, torture/drugging, angst, fem!reader

You're front door flung wide open was Mac's first warning. The lack of your presence in the home was his second.

When he'd arrived with coffee in one hand, and his car keys in the other he hadn't expected it, and as a frown set deep into his features, the hairs rose on the back of his neck.

His voice rang out, oddly loud in the empty house, only to hear no answer back from you. Silence, from every room. Mac wouldn't have been so concerned had you been different people entirely, but you weren't, and what you did for work warranted a need to watch your back at every corner. Mac wasn't so good at watching his own back, but watching yours had always been his specialty, which is why the fact he didn't see this coming, cut so deep.

The broken lampshade in the living room, and the crimson that had long ago soaked into the carpet brought more fears to Mac's mind than he could count, and the speed at which he raced around the house looking for you was unmatched to any pace he'd set before. The first phone call he made was to your cell, which rang in the upstairs bedroom without you to answer it. The second was to Jack, who picked up after the third ring with an irritated groan.

"It's eight in the morning man, what d'you want?"

"Listen, you gotta calm down. You can't think straight when you're like this, and we need that big brain of yours if we want any chance of finding her." Jack has a calloused hand placed firmly on Mac's shoulder as they stand in your empty bedroom. Mac doesn't need a reminder on the importance of staying calm. It's how he's survived his whole life, how he's managed to keep Jack alive to this day, and how he's managed to save you more times than he can count.

But he isn't calm, at least not now. Mac's gaze is locked on the top drawer of your dresser, where you'd allowed him to move in some of his things the month before. Some trinkets, a few shirts, though he can see one of them strewn on the floor in the corner after a rushed discard of it in this very room a few nights before.

"Did I ever tell you we were moving in together?" his voice comes quiet, distracted as his eyes scan over the room. Before he can spiral further Jack's hold on Mac's shoulder grows tighter and he spins the blonde around to face him

"Quit using that past tense bullshit." The man snaps his fingers, loud, in Mac's face, cutting through the harsh thoughts running rampant in his mind. "Y'all are moving in together whether you like it or not, and when we get her back, you better start packing your shit."

Mac can feel the pain welling in his chest, before he pulls himself out of Jack's hold. He takes one deep breath in and holds it for a moment, the air in his lungs one thing he can control. And then he's focused enough to think, and to plan. He's ready to find you.

You can feel a dampness on your clothes, and while you're unsure if it's water or sweat, it brings a coolness to your skin. There's a sound akin to dripping somewhere to your left, and faint traffic in a direction you can't quite make out. It's dark, and it stays that way even after you open your eyes.

You're not at home anymore, that much is clear, but you're not alone either, and as your eyes adjust to the black you can make out the picture of a figure before you, leant against the wall in waiting.

"Tired?" it asks, voice full of enjoyment. A sharp plastic digs into your wrists, and if you were to hazard a guess, cable ties would be the closest you could get to what was restraining you.

You don't respond to whoever sits across from you, and despite the fear begging you not to, you close your eyes again.

Faking sleep is better than being forced into it by a harsh hit to the head, something you assume happened earlier by the aching you feel. And it's certainly better than torture or interrogation—something you can see coming from a mile off.

"No, no, I don't have the patience for games." The voice has come closer, though you hadn't heard the footsteps, but before you can even out your breathing, sell the lie, your nervous system forces you awake. Water, ice cold, covers every inch of your body, weighing you down as you gasp from its contact.

Your eyes are open again, and you can see your captor, which isn't any luck on your part. It's almost a definite that you'll be disposed of now, once all is said and done.

A singular light is on above you, a bright, irritating presence. And now, as you cast your gaze to your surroundings, you see the various tools displayed on a tray across the room. A scalpel winks at you, as do many other shiny metals.

You wish you'd never woken up.

Mac sits in the war room alone, scanning through security the footage Riley had gathered hours ago. He can't see a thing—or rather, he can't see you—in any of the frames.

On the quiet Suburban street where you lived, cameras weren't needed. Which rendered almost every tape Riley had pulled from the systems closer to town useless. And the more Mac looked through each one, his eyesight began to blur. Perhaps the footage wasn't the problem. Maybe it was Mac himself.

Angus MacGyver had never not had an idea in his life. He was a quick thinker and always had been. Yet, here he was—trapped in the large expanse of a government owned building and surrounded by technology that should have been assisting him—with no plans worth speaking aloud.

Mac found himself standing from his chair, heart beating at a furious pace. It was as though he couldn't get air into his lungs, and the breaths he did take seemed to burn, his anxiety acid to his insides.

He can hear his own gasps for breath in his ears, frantic and rapid, and for a moment, he thinks he might be dying. He can see his phone light up on the rooms center table, next to the bowl of paperclips, now half empty. But the phone makes it all worse, as with the notification and the device lighting up, he can see you.

Trapped in the phone, you sit grinning on a couch, Mac beside you with your legs in his lap. The lock screen is a moment in time, yet he can still remember everything that happens after. He remembers Bozer snapping the picture, and can recall his own hands, pulling you into his lap moments later. Mac remembers you, laughing into his lips, tasting of beer, and the icing from Jack's birthday cake. It feels like his chest is shrinking now as he sinks into the memory, mind sucking him into it before pushing him back out into the now. He doesn't know where you are, if you're alive or dead, and the burn of panicked tears comes quickly. His gasps increase in volume as he slides down the wall to the floor, and with the blood pumping hard in his ears, he can hardly hear the door open.

"Woah, woah, Mac!" Jack is on the floor with him in moments, a firm grip on both his shoulders. "Breathe man, in and out."

Mac tries, he really does, but everything inside him spills over. He's an overflowing sink and it's so unlike him, as if grief has taken hold long before he can confirm he's lost you for good.

"I don't know where she is, Jack." There's anger in his words, fear forcing it out of him, and in his peripheral, he can see Riley and Maddy in the doorway.

"I know, man. It's tough, but we're gonna find her." Jack's support does nothing to soothe him, and Mac finds himself pushing the man back, scrambling to his feet.

"Really, Jack? Because it doesn't feel like it. We don't even know how long she's been missing. How long did it take before I even realized she was gone?" Mac has forced himself to face the window, as if he can hide himself—his pain, no matter how clear it is—from his coworkers. His friends.

"Mac, this isn't on you. There's no way you could have known what was about to happen." It's Maddy, though Mac still refuses to face her. He can hear someone step forward, and by the rustle of a leather jacket, he knows it's Riley.

"This was never your fault, Mac."

"I didn't know she was missing. I should have known." He can hear the crack in his own voice as he tortures himself from the inside out. And then he yells, an agonizing sound full of anger and resentment as he turns, swinging his hand out to knock the glass bowl of paperclips to the ground. It shatters, as does Mac, and his friends rush to hold him up before he can fall.

Maddy sends him home after that, though that doesn't stop his racing train of thought. Bozer orders him take out that he can't bring himself to eat, and he waits for you, as if by pure will he can cause you to form in the doorway.

He tried to wrap his head around who would have taken you, but the list of suspects is too long. Was it revenge on you they were seeking, or was the plan to cause Mac pain in this very way? Was it something to do with the foundation as a whole or one singular person? Every mistake Mac has ever made forms in his mind, but none of them fit with the story he's put together.

The open door, the blood on the carpet, the broken household items. Your phone left behind, coffee pot empty as you waited for Mac to arrive. Your bed wasn't made, and Mac could picture the day you would've had had things gone right. It's dark out, but Mac can't sleep. he stands, and despite Maddy's orders, leaves the house.

You're cold, shivering in a shirt that isn't yours. It's one of Mac's, checkered and blue, paired with pajama shorts that do nothing to conserve your body heat. But having something of his right now gives you comfort, a reminder that he will be looking for you.

The room has looked the same for all the hours you've spent within it, and you have no concept of time in its confines. Whether it's night or day, you can't tell, but no one told you that the scariest part of being held captive, sometimes is the fact that you don't know how long you have been.

When you see the man again, your vision is blurred and you can hardly bring yourself to speak. There's something in your bloodstream now, a drug given to you by the stranger, that keeps you weak. A hallucinogenic that makes it almost impossible to decipher what is real and what is not.

"Do you remember me?" the stranger calls. He's organizing his tools across the room, black gloves making gentle sounds with each movement.

It's hard to breathe, let alone to speak. "No."

You're sure that's not the answer the man wants, but it's the truthful one you can give to him. You can hear his footsteps now and they echo loud in your eardrums, increasing the headache you already have.

"Think a little harder. Look at me, go on."

You raise your head, though it feels too heavy for your neck, and do as he says.

"Do you remember now?" there's a lack of emotion in his features, like he's made of metal and wires beneath the skin that pulls him together. But you can't put his face into full focus. Maybe it's the drugs, or the tears of frustration that pull themselves to the front of your eyes, but you can't remember seeing a face like his.

"No." It's a struggle to keep eye contact, but you hold out. "I don't remember a single thing about you."

The man lets out a grunt—at least that's what you make it out to be—before wandering back to his cart of metal devices. They're all surprisingly clean, and in between the items, you can see a syringe. A fresh dose of whatever drug you're already pumped full of.

You think the man is going to reach for it, but instead he picks up one of the many other tools. It's sharp, and you can tell it's going to hurt.

"Here's someone we both remember. Angus MacGyver. Does that ring any bells for you?" he's brought the knife, if you can call it one, over to your side, but you flinch at Mac's name more than the cool touch of the metal.

"Who?" You can hardly keep your head up, but if there's one thing you won't do, it's betray the man you love the most.

The knife stings as it digs into your bicep, and burns further as it's dragged all the way down to your forearm. There are tears and screams that leave you along with it, but you doubt anyone can hear. The sleeve of Mac's shirt has been torn in the wake of the cut, and your blood will stain the fabric forevermore.

"Angus MacGyver," the man speaks the name again once your screams have subsided to mere whimpers. "now, a little birdy told me a secret about you and him. D'you wanna know what it is?"

"I don't know any man by that name." You're curled in on yourself as far as you can go with your hands restrained behind you, the pain unbearable as it courses through your arm.

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping here, but you don't look like the kind of woman to buy oversized men's plaid." He tugs at the fabric of your shirt, pulling you back to sit upright. "There is of course, this too."

Slowly, you peel your eyes open. The man has pulled his own chair up to sit in front of you. It's made of old, splintering wood, and you don't understand how you hadn't seen it before. In his gloved hand, he holds a picture. Printed on glossy paper is an image of you and Mac, and unhelpfully, the photo has captured him, kissing you as though his life depends on it. Which he did often.

You're stood in an alleyway, Mac's hands gripping you tight as your own are tangled to great lengths in his hair. Next, the man shows an image of Mac, seated on a barstool with you in his lap. You both hold half empty beers with grins wide on your faces. You are shown picture after picture of you and Mac together, holding hands, kissing, laughing, and even fighting, all taken from some unknown point of view. But the last photo is one you recognize. It's shows Mac in the same blue check shirt you wear now, holding you close. He's looking down at you in the picture with the utmost affection, whilst you send a toothy grin to the camera. The photo is aged, with fuzzy edges, well loved just like the people it holds. It's the photo that has sat on your bedside table for years, and now it lies in the hands of someone who doesn't deserve its memories.

"Now we're all caught up, let's talk about our mutual friend." He's picked up the knife again, your blood still dripping from the blade.

"I don't know that man." you don't know why you're persisting when all the evidence lies in front of you on hard concrete flooring. You're buying time at best.

"Well you know his tongue at least. What, with it having been down your throat and all."

You don't respond to that, and a laugh escapes the dimly lit figure in front of you. He's moved back to his cart, eyeing up each and every violent item he could use to pull the words he wants from you.

"MacGyver knows me, even if you don't." The man picks up a cloth and wipes your blood from his gloves. His pace is slow, teasing. "He's a hard man to hurt, with no mother, father, siblings. So how do I get my leverage?"

The silence presses down on the both of you, and he's waiting for something. His eyes cast over you expectantly in a way that makes your skin crawl.

"Do you wanna take a guess?" He asks finally, brandishing now a new weapon, this one worse than the last. You don't answer, head sinking down in defeat, the drugs are wearing off, but you're still tired, and the feeling of your own blood flooding out of you isn't easy to handle.

The man takes his seat again, with the new blade in one hand and syringe in the other. "Men like him are weak for the women they love."

Mac had ducked under crime scene tape many times in his life, but doing so to enter your house was something he had never done before. It was dark in every room, Mac fumbling his way up the staircase in the black. He knew his way around the place by now, and he'd slammed into every door throughout his years of being your lover. He could probably recall how his back felt pressed to the wood of each one, whilst you kissed him fiercely, from memory.

When he makes it to your bedroom he reaches for the light switch, the bright yellow making everything clear. Your bedsheets, creased and pushed to the edge of the mattress, some of your clothes in a pile on the chair. Mac hadn't noticed before though, the empty picture frame on the bedside table. He can't remember a time when the frame wasn't taken up by his favorite picture of you, and now the lack of it jars him.

He's moves fast once it registers, and picks it up delicately. The frame is perfectly in tact, but it lacks the presence of your smile within it and it doesn't take long for Mac to race his newfound evidence to the phoenix foundation. When he arrives, what should be a dark, lifeless building, is lit up with people bustling about inside. The doors are unlocked and Mac isn't stopped on his way down to the lab like he thought he would have been.

"Hey, Mac!"

Jack. It's always Jack.

"Maddy sent you home amigo." He catches up fast, chasing Mac down the hall, though Mac can't stop. He slips into the elevator hoping to leave Jack behind, but the man pushes his way inside right after him. "What you got there?"

Mac has the lightest hold on the object in his grasp, afraid to damage what little information could save your life. "It's a picture frame, from Y/N's. Whoever took her could have taken the picture that was inside." It sounds so inconsequential when he says it out loud, the 'could have' in the sentence echoing out.

"So you're thinking you can check the thing for fingerprints." Jack confirms, nodding as the doors to the elevator open up to the lab floor. Bozer and Riley sit at one of the desks, scanning through what looks to be even more security footage.

"Mac," Riley's eyes are wide, and Mac can tell by the way she's scanning over him that he doesn't look well. His hair is disheveled from how many times his hands have anxiously raked through it, his eyes tired yet somehow wide awake. "We didn't think you'd be back till tomorrow."

Mac doesn't answer but instead places the frame down on the table. "We need to check the fingerprints on this, now."

But before any of them can make a move to do so, Bozer takes a sharp breath.

"Jack, you need to get Mac out of here." His eyes are fixed to the computer screen in front of him, and when Riley slides her wheeled chair over to peek at screen, she stands abruptly.

"What? What is it?" Mac pushes forward, but Riley blocks his view.

"Mac, I really don't think you should see this." She's placed her hands on his chest, trying to coax him backward, and without need for explanation, Jack grasps onto Mac's shoulders. He's trying to tug him out of the room, Mac realises.

"If you've found something, I deserve to know what."

Jack's fingers dig deep into Mac's shoulder blades, grounding him to the spot. "I don't know what they've found either, brother, but if they think you shouldn't see it, I stand by 'em." He tries to guide Mac away again, and the look on Riley's face tears him apart. Her brown eyes hold sympathy and a kind of fear he had yet to see from her.

"Riley," Mac's voice is surprisingly steady considering the waves he feels inside. "Just tell me one thing. Is she dead?".

She looks over at Jack, and they exchange silent words, though, Mac can't tell what exactly they are. "I don't know, Mac. I don't know."

There are tears that well in Bozer's eyes when Mac glances to him, and in a second, he's broken free from Jack's loosening grasp. He slips past Riley toward the computer, and he's choked for air the second he sees it.

It's a video file, sent to Bozer's email, currently paused. In the frozen image, you sit slumped in a chair, the rest of the room dark around you. There are cuts and bruises littered on every inch of skin that Mac can see in the dim light, and behind you, pinned to the wall is a collage of photos. Mac can just make it out from the blurry footage, the picture that had once been in the frame beside him stuck right in the center, above your limp body.

"Play the video, Bozer."

Mac can all but whisper it, his voice caught in the silence that lies between every pair of lungs in the room.

Bozer does as he's told despite hesitation and shaking heads from both Riley and Jack, and in moments, the footage is rolling.

Gravely words come from somewhere behind the camera, anger within them, and a kind of amusement too.

"She's not dead. I know that's what you're thinking. But she's not. Yet. Every cut was carefully placed, painful, yes, but not immediately fatal. She's losing blood, Macgyver. So it won't be long. 12 hours. Trace the email if you want. Take the easy way out. I won't be here either way. For what it's worth, I hope you don't make it in time. Then you'll know how I felt."

The audio cuts out, and the video comes to an abrupt end, the screen embraced in black.

Mac allows himself time to stand there, to think it over. His hands shake as he runs one through his hair, and he feels Jack's grasp on him once more. Mac flinches, a rage once unknown to him boiling in his stomach.

"You were right," he says finally, cutting through the quiet. "I shouldn't have seen it."

Thanks to Riley, Mac knows exactly where you are in minutes. He doesn't give the others time to stop him once he knows, and he's never raced down the Phoenix halls quite so fast.

He's burning rubber on the drive over, and when he finally makes it to the abandoned subway station, he doesn't think about the danger he's in. It's clear whoever has you really wants him, and he has nothing but an army knife on his person. Not that that had ever stopped him before.

He runs down every passage and checks every maintenance room he can find, tripping his way down every staircase. The hallways echo and groan, and with every sound he flinches, wondering if it could be you.

When Mac reaches the end of the station, he's at a loss for words. You're not here, or maybe he's missed something. Maybe Riley was wrong. He crouches down in defeat at the end of the tunnels, head bowed and breathless. He doesn't know why he does it, but he shouts, voice hoarse and dry. He's done a lot of that over the past day, even though he doesn't have the time to. His own voice echoes back to him, bouncing off of every surrounding wall. It sings down the tunnels and into the darkness, and it's all Mac has left. He leaps off the platform and onto the tracks, daring to walk down with only the light of his phone to guide him. The subway no longer runs, the tracks dusty after years of no use, yet it still seems dangerous.

Mac scans his phone's torch light over every crumbling wall, more than one rat squealing as they run from his fast-paced steps. He dares to call your name into the darkness over and over, hoping the sound of you will be a guiding light. He's hopeful, and with that hope comes pain. He doesn't hear you shout back like he prayed you would, even when he does so again and again.

Silence. Other than his own steps and the sound of his desperate breaths. Silence. Other than the crunch of dirt and debris under his boots. Silence. Other than the scream. The scream that finally echoes down the tunnel, pounding Mac at full force. Silence. Other than the sound of you.

His name echoes out of the black, your voice pulling him into a sprint as Mac continues to call to you, begging for your answer. He's closer now, close enough to hear your sobs behind the stone. You're behind the walls, Mac realizes, and he can't find the way in.

He's pummeling the solid rock, as if with his fists alone, he can break it. There's nothing he can use to help him, unlike many missions before. He's improvising with himself and himself only.

There is blood on Mac's knuckles from each slam of his fists when he decides to try a different approach. The bones in his hands still ache as he slides his palms along the wall, pushing on every crack he can find in the dark. He calls to you again, just to make sure you're still with him. Still alive. But this time you don't answer. It feels as though his heart may be constricting in his chest, like the ribcage that holds every important part of him has shrunk two sizes. He calls out again and is met with another round of quiet.

When Mac feels air, cold against his hand he knows he's found it. The way to you. He pushes hard against the stone that blocks his path, and the weight on his chest decreases, if only for a moment. And then he's in yet another tunnel, though this time he can see a light at the end. It's dim and seems to fade in and out as he moves. And when the tunnel opens out into a room Mac has never seen, the light sits like a halo above your drooped head. You're covered in patches of red. Blood, some dry, and some still dripping from the open parts of you.

"Hey, baby, can you hear me?" Mac is now knelt at your feet, Swiss army knife slicing easily through the ties that bind you. He fears for the worst when he places three fingers against your neck, checking for a pulse that is there, but weak. With every touch Mac's hands become coated in a new layer of your blood, warm liquid coming from behind ice cold skin.

"That's it, open those eyes." His voice is soft as you begin to stir, fear layered beneath his quiet tone, and Mac is tearing up his shirt in seconds for fabric to bind your wounds.

For a moment, he allows his gaze shifts to the wall behind you, where hundreds of photos seem to be pasted to the wall. Along with the one from your bedroom, the pictures contain nothing but you and Mac together. Every date night, fight and hidden moment not so private anymore.

Your eyes are open now, though your gaze is foggy, and Mac watches the tears run silently down your cheeks. He's trying his best to stop the bleeding of every cut and gash in your skin, and forces himself to focus entirely on the movements of his hands.

"You know, it's not as bad as it looks."

Mac is moving frantically to preserve what should be inside of your body when you say it, and when he looks back up at you, your eyes have closed again.

"Eyes open baby," He squeezes your hand as he continues to work, "keep them open for me." It's occurring to Mac now that he can't possibly cover all of your wounds, and that soon, he's going to have to carry you out of the room, whether you're bleeding or not.

"When were you gonna tell me you have a bunch of holes in you, huh?" He tries to send you a smile with the joke, but his voice cracks midway through the words.

"oh, I didn't notice." your chest rises hard with what Mac hopes to be a laugh, though a pained one. "I'm sorry for getting blood on your shirt."

"Shirts', plural" Mac corrects, gesturing to the pieces of fabric he has now wrapped around your wounds. "But don't worry about that, c'mere."

He's up on his feet now, and reaches out to pull you into his arms.

It's hard, and the howl of agony that leaves you in your attempt to stand is piercing, even with all of your weight held up by Mac. You're panting heavily, even after the majority of the pain has subsided, and Mac feels guilty about the next step in his pitiful plan.

"Just keep breathing, honey." his grip on you is tight, despite the fact his fingers press down on your injuries. "I'm going to pick you up, okay? On the count of three, bridal style."

"I was hoping we could save that for the wedding." The joke doesn't quite land, considering the sobs you mutter it through, but Mac forces a chuckle anyway. He adjusts his hold on you, placing a kiss to your temple as he does.

"On three, ready?" Mac can feel you grip him tighter as he says it, and his own heart races at the thought of hurting you. "One, two—" The three is lost amongst your cries as Mac lifts you into his arms, and he doesn't flinch even as your teeth sink into his shoulder out of sheer pain. Sobs wrack your body as Mac takes the first few steps out of the room, trying to be as careful as he can.

"I know, I'm sorry, you're doing great. Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths." He knows he can't put you down now, not until you're safe and outside, but without torchlight to guide the way Mac is seeing blind. He walks with caution through the darkness, wasting time with the snails pace he takes, and just when he thinks he's going to have to re-evaluate this plan of his, go back and make a headlight from the scraps in the room, Mac hears something up ahead. The sound of many shuffling feet, conversation, and then finally the calling of Mac's name and yours. It's his friends, Jack, Riley and Bozer, with their own torches some way up the tunnel.

"We're over here!" Mac shouts, desperation breaking the notes he speaks. "I've got her, we're here!"

Mac can feel your cries of relief into his chest, and as the lights up ahead get closer, Mac can't help but shed tears too. He's relieved, and as the beams shine brighter, he spares a glance to downward. You're looking up at him when he does, gasping through your own sobs, with a smile on your lips. And he smiles back, genuinely this time.

MACGYVER TAGLIST: @ash5monster01

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

AN: I was supposed to post this two days ago for our boys birthday but that plan kinda went out the window when the doubts crept in.

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

[graffic17]

Bonesaw!

I ended up liking this character way more than I ever expected I would after the fridge incident. But she's an incredible source of disturbingly interesting body horror and her redemption is great.

I'm aware she appears in Ward, and some of what she's responsible for, so just another reason to look forward to when I eventually get around to it.

#bonesaw #riley grace davis #riley davis #wormblr #worm #parahumans #worm fanart #my art

[ash5monster01]

Hi how are you? I don't know if you are accepting requests... but if so, I would like to ask Macgyver for something

I imagine something, where the reader is jealous of Mac with Desi or Riley, and to make matters worse for the reader, one of them ends up getting hurt, and then Mac gives her his full attention? (Riley, Desi) and the reader starts to feel super insecure and super bad...

Thankss!!

first of all the fact I have a MacGyver request right now is nothing short of amazing. with the show being over for a while now the fandom has died down quite a lot and I am happy to write for him whenever. I will also be choosing Desi for this considering I’m very anti-Desi, apologies to anyone who likes her. anyways I hope you enjoy xx

Wish It Was Me

Pairing: Angus MacGyver x Fem!Reader

Warnings: jealousy, language, angst, heartache, unreciprocated feelings, fluff, happy ending (don’t worry)

Summary: After months of pretending that his behavior doesn’t bother you, you finally find yourself getting fed up and showing your heartbreak towards the boy. He uses this as an excuse to finally confront his feelings for you.

word count: 2.4k

Masterlist

Harboring a crush on the man your job required you to protect was a great work ethic tactic. In fact it was the best one you had yet. Obviously you’d protect anyone of the team but if something ever actually happened to Mac, you’d be more than upset. Quite possibly crushed. It was also a great tactic considering you were very well trained at keeping your emotions intact which meant not once had you given up the fact you had any feelings for the blonde boy at all. It was simple actually, pine for him when you were alone and protect him when you were together. Always at his 6, gun pointed and loaded. A team always and forever.

That is until Desi Nguyen came along.

Not only is she just as good as you at combat but she was also getting closer to the team and you despised that. Feelings of replacement and jealousy filling you which made you angry for experiencing such emotions at all. It started to get worse when you noticed how close Mac was getting to her. Hell when she first showed up she had caught him leaving the shower and she hadn’t been shameless about it at all. You were the only one to successfully pass her test and she acted like because of that, the two of you were friends. That made it even worse.

It started with him laughing at her jokes, then it was grabbing a coffee after work, and pretty soon it was slight touches in passing, barely noticeable, but there. It was driving you up a wall, yet you’d never show it. Not only was Mac completely clueless but Riley and Bozer as well. So when you find yourself particularly angry for being sent in the field with Mac and Desi, no one seems to pay no mind because you are a shell of stoic. Untouched by silly and childish feelings of crushes and love. You wonder if there is possibly anything that could break your cool and calm structure.

“Y/N, I need you for a minute” your heart stutters, wishing he meant it in a different way, some other way. Yet you obey, not even a glimmer of hope shining as you look in his eyes. “Hold this wire for me please”

“Better hurry guys, we’re gonna have guests soon” Desi speaks, still on guard for any unwanted visitors. You slide your gun in the holster, allowing her to cover you both as you hold the wire like Mac asked.

“Please tell me this will only blow up the bad guys and not us” you tell Mac, a sly smile on your face and he chuckles, his hand twisting with his Swiss army knife as he works on something you can’t possibly comprehend.

“I’m not making any promises” he tells you and you fight the grin that wants to crawl across your face. You want to smile at him like he hung the stars but your job was to protect, not love. Even if you wanted to you’d be afraid of doing it for competition now, even if you didn’t know how Mac felt about Desi you knew she liked him.

That point is proven when you’re interrupted by the heavy footsteps of three men. A shot is let off in the air before you have time to register that the shot was heading for Mac. Desi does her job which is the same as yours, stepping in front of the bullet, and letting it knock her to the ground. You don’t have time to think about it, you move on command, years of skill practically motorized into your being. Your gun is out your holster in seconds and you’ve shot all three men to the ground before anyone can think about it. It’s what you were built for.

“Shit Desi, are you okay?” it’s Mac’s voice that pulls you from combat mode. You turn to find he has taken position over her fallen form, both her hands and his own holding her wound tightly as she bleeds from her torso.

“Been better Mac” she tells him, voice straining like she’s clearly in pain. You see it in his eyes though. It’s what keeps you from rushing to her side as well. It was there all along and maybe he was just as good at hiding it as you or you were denial. He’s looking at her the way you would’ve looked at him if he was the one laying on that ground.

“Matty, we’re gonna need an exfil location stat. Desi has been shot” you call over on your comm’s and the worried voices from the other team members seem to make you sadder. Feeling abandoned by your team and guilty for allowing such personal feelings to make you seem so cold towards a girl who had never done anything wrong to you.

“Alright, hang in there Des. We’ll get you out of here” it’s the nickname that comes from his mouth that makes bile rise to your throat but when he cradled the girl in his arms it’s something else entirely. Pain worse than you’ve faced in the field sears through you and when Mac looks up at you, you decide it’s time to accept that this is your life now. Him and her. The real team.

What you don’t know is that Mac see’s it. The pain, it’s written clear as day across your face. It startled him for a moment because you never give anything up. A statue of a person and to see you seem so dejected is heartbreaking in a way he can’t comprehend. He knows it’s not worry for Desi, he’s sure that is inside of you somewhere, but the pain written across your face is one of longing. After months of wishing you’d reciprocate any feelings for him at all he realizes they were always there, just under the surface.

Matty pulled off an emergency extract quickly, and thankfully the debrief was quick due to worry of Desi’s condition. Everyone can tell you’re defeated, more than likely thinking it was from an unsuccessful mission. You let them, and go to your rented room in Mac’s home. For the first time in months wishing you didn’t live there. Thankful Bozer and Mac stayed back you pour yourself a heavy glass of wine, find yourself in a warm shower, and then curled on your bed in some pajamas with a book. You’re four glasses of wine deep and halfway through the book when you hear the front door open and close.

“I’m home” is called out. Mac who had been with Desi all this time. Bozer had come home hours ago, and was more than likely asleep. For the first time in a while you wished you had shut your bedroom door to avoid him, have a good night sleep in before you had to deal.

“Hey, you’re up” he’s in your doorway in seconds. You feel yourself sitting up and removing the reading glasses from your face. Mac always finds it odd seeing you like this. Curled up in a mound of blankets and pillows, the smell of fresh wine and a vanilla candle, silk sleep sets laid across your skin, hair piled high on your head. You were so soft compared to the girl in the field. The same girl he watched take down three men in lightning speed today. Now somehow you were in bed with a book. Weird how the world worked.

“Not really tired, is um. Is Desi okay?” you feel bad for not showing much interest in her well being. You just needed some time to think, some time to regain your composure.

“Last I checked yeah, I haven’t seen her for a couple of hours” he admits as he walks in. As he sits at the end of your bed you realize this isn’t uncommon. You two are still friends. No matter what you realized today.

“I thought you were with her?” you give him a puzzled look and he shrugs.

“I was, yeah. Then once I knew she was stable I went back to the Phoenix to fill out a mission report. Then Matty took advantage and got me to catch up on paperwork I’d been avoiding for a while” you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes your lips. Mac was a professional at avoiding the paperwork part of his job but every once in a while Matty could get her way.

“That’s on you for going back” you tell him and he chuckles along with you, head nodding.

“Could I ask you something?” he says once the laughter has quieted down and you find yourself getting exceptionally nervous. He can’t tell.

“Always Mac, it’s kinda my job” you tease which is true. When you were hired at the Phoenix Foundation it was literally to protect Mac in the field. You were pretty sure his name is in your exact job description.

“You’re not on the clock” he says which in a way was true but not really. It wasn’t uncommon for threats to breach your shared home, the minute that happens you’ll be protecting him then too.

“MacGyver, get to the question” you tell him even though you’d rather he walk out and never ask you any questions ever.

“Today you looked, well you never usually look like anything. But today you looked hurt, dare I say heartbroken” and you feel all the air sucked out of the room because you had shown emotions past your exterior and Mac had seen them.

“I don’t know what you mean” but you couldn’t look him in the eyes and he knew. He knew it deep in his bones.

“Look Y/N, maybe I could be wrong. That it was all just concern but if you feel anything for me the way I feel for you than that look was so much more than that” his words almost didn’t register. Your heart caught them before your head did. It was ramming against your rib cage and your head was snapping towards him because MacGyver of all people just admitted to having feelings for you.

“Feel for me?” you questioned quietly, your eyes locking on his own blue ones. You had seen Mac serious about many things before but somehow this seemed like more.

“Are you kidding me Y/N? Of course I have feelings for you. I spend all of my time with you considering we work and live together. On top of that you are always taking care of me and are the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. I was in love with you within a month of knowing you. Jack would always tease me about it” a small squeak left your throat at his confession. Wondering how you had never seen it before.

“Jack knew?” maybe it wasn’t the best question at the moment, but since Jack had passed it was hard to bring him up. Knowing he had passed away and there were things none of you guys got to tell him.

“Yeah, I always promised him I’d tell you how I felt one day and every day since he passed I’ve been breaking that promise more and more. So here I am not breaking it” he told you, a hand running wildly through his hair.

“What about Desi?” you wanted to make sure, needed to make sure.

“She’s just a friend. Most of the time I just flirted with her to get a reaction out of you” this was the most shocking of all. You’d expected him to say he had gained feelings for her too, but now as he sat at the end of your bed staring back at you with hopeful eyes you realized this was never the case.

“So it’s me?” you asked and a smile cracked across his face, a deep chuckle coming out as he dropped his head. His soft blonde locks dangling in front of his eyes.

“Yes Y/N. It’s always been you” he told you once he looked back up, and finally you allowed a real smile to cross your face.

“Well this is a first” you chuckled, hand reaching to grab your glass of wine. You gulped back the last sip and abandoned the empty glass, him watching you closely.

“What is?” he asked once you seemed to have your head straight.

“Having someone return the same feelings I have for them. I mean it usually never happens because I save face when it comes to emotions but here we are. You and me. In my room. Being adult and admitting things like attraction” you blabbered lightly and Mac laughed, a wide grin on his face. You suddenly had the urge to grab hold of the deep red shirt he had on, it matching the color of wine on your lips.

“So you’re admitting you like me too?” he asked and you just rolled your eyes before shoving your book out of your lap.

“Shut up and kiss me MacGyver” and he wasted no time, a devious grin crawling across his face as he moved to climb over to you. The anticipation of him getting closer seemed to take forever but finally he was face to face, arms locked on either side of you, and you took a moment to inspect every inch of him. “I have good taste”

“I do too” and then he was closing the gap between you both. Lips slotting gently against your own. His mouth was warm and soft, much different from his calloused hands. Your fingers tangled in his hair, mussing it around. Kissing him was like taking in a breath of fresh hair and pretty soon his tongue was dipping your mouth, tasting the wine left behind from your leisure afternoon. Tangling your tongue with his own you realize you could stay like this forever, just the two of you, in this room.

“It’s so not fair” you said once you broke apart, foreheads pressed together and heavy breaths panting out of both of you.

“What’s that doll?” he asked and you sighed.

“You’re good at everything else, you can’t be good at that too” and he was laughing, arms wrapping around you as he rolled over and pulled you on top of him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you what else I’m good at too”

#macgyver x femreader #macgyver 2016 #macgyver imagines #macgyver smut #macgyver x reader #macgyver imagine #macgyver #macgyver trash #mac x reader #angusmacgyver #angus macgyver #angus macgyver x reader #lucas till x reader #lucas till imagines #lucas till fanfiction #lucas till imagine #lucas till #lucas till x femreader #jack dalton #riley davis #wilt bozer #matty webber #macgyver series #macgyver x ofc #macgyver x oc #macgyver requests #macgyver reboot #macgyver x jack #jack x mac #macgyver x riley davis

[just-here-for-the-whump]

MacGyver 3x13 Wilderness + Survival + Training

#macgyver #lucas till #wilt bozer #riley davis #whump #injury #gsw #shot #care #hand holding #fight #team as family

[despite]

#parahumans #worm #wildbow #parahumans fanart #worm fanart #riley davis #amy dallon #its like when a cat falls alseep on you and you cant get up]

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

Riley Grace Davis AKA Bonesaw art coutesy of @cpericardium!

Propaganda under the cut.

Riley Grace Davis AKA Bonesaw was submitted without propaganda.

The Fairy Godmother:

She did a lot of bad stuff, but her version of Holding Out for a Hero is legendary so does it even really matter?

#poll #tournament poll #round 1 #riley grace davis #riley davis #bonesaw #wormblr #worm web serial #worm #parahumans #the fairy godmother #shrek fairy godmother #shrek #shrek 2

[improvidus]

Cairo Day | "In Flight"

(@macgyvercairo)

#art by improvidus #macgyver #fanart #cairo day #i hope someday i get around to the martian au that's been hibernating in my brain for literal years #the teamy vibes are just so perfect for them #in flight #cairo day 2024 #riley davis #angus macgyver #jack dalton #samantha cage

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

your transfem friend recommended a clinic to get your bottom surgery done at. she says its cheap, not gatekeepery, and the results are good, even if the doctors a little skeevy. youre at the address she gave you and are wondering how exactly your murder will go down. the door is on a third floor landing accessible only from a fire escape out of a back alley in the worst part of town youve ever seen. you knock three times and the door is answered by a ratty-looking woman with a severe slouch smoking something that doesnt smell like nicotine and doesnt smell like marijuana. her wavy blonde hair is unkempt. shes wearing an oversized grey hoodie that hasnt been washed in some time. you can identify blood on the left sleeve and vomit across much of her side, as well as other, more mysterious stains. you cant tell if shes wearing anything underneath the hoodie. the inside of the apartment - because it is, very clearly, her apartment - has a smell that you cant place but, if pressed, would probably call sweat, though you know that description is lacking something.

dr davis, you ask. she smiles wide, and her teeth are shockingly good for the state the rest of her is in. just call me riley, she says. never did get a degree.

she ushers you inside and sits you down on a sofa almost as stained as her hoodie. can i get you a drink she asks. a drink, you repeat, dazed. she says yeah. she says she has diet coke, beer, vodka, and coffee. says she used to keep tea around for a friend of a friend but she hasnt come by in a few years and the leaves are probably losing flavor by now. you say just waters fine. she shrugs and says your funeral. she comes back from the kitchen and sweeps some stuff off the coffee table. you see a stray scalpel, a roll of gauze bandages, a soda cup from taco bell, and various crumpled papers amongst the rubbish that she knocks aside before setting down your glass of water. she has a beer in her own hand and pops the cap off with her teeth, though the motion isnt quite how youre used to seeing people do it. she takes a big gulp before she keeps talking.

so what do you want your pussy to look like, she asks. you splutter a bit. she says you are the one who needed their bits redone right. you flush and say yeah thats me. she nods and says right so what do you want. you struggle to give a good answer and she starts asking questions. depth? width? color? clit size? you give your answers falteringly. she starts asking about labia. oh, you dont want dentata, do you, she says. that costs extra. you say you dont know what that means. she says dont worry about it. hey do you wanna get pregnant? you splutter again. not now she clarifies. well i can get you pregnant now too if you want that. doesnt even have to be human i think i have some horse sperm around here if you want. i just meant like ever in the future. you say you dont know. she says okay shell leave it out for now but come back if you ever want her to put the womb in. youre too stunned to reply.

she says oh do you want to keep your dick, i can do that. you say you thought they needed the tissue from the penis in order to make the vaginal lining. she laughs and takes another gulp from her beer. she says so is that a no. you say you guess you hadnt thought about it. she says she can reschedule if you need to think, no rush. you say no i guess i dont want it anymore. she nods and says come back if you change your mind.

she says ok, i think i can start operating now if youre ready. you say okay and she tells you to lie on your back and strip naked. you follow her instructions. youre still not sure if youre going to die today or not. she pulls on a big pair of rubber gloves. not latex medical gloves, they're yellow dishwashing gloves. she grabs a small jar of what looks like petroleum jelly off a shelf nearby. you cant help but notice that theres also lube, condoms, saran wrap, and a bottle of honey on the same shelf. you dont ask. she starts vigorously rubbing the jelly into your skin from the belly button down. everywhere it touches you instantly go numb. she keeps talking while she works. a lot of it is her telling stories about "her amy." you cant tell if amy is a sister, wife, or pet. she might be all three.

she reaches up to grab an empty syringe off the top shelf. when she stretches you notice shes naked under the hoodie. you look away bashfully. she doesnt seem to notice.

she fills the syringe with liquid from a bucket in the closet. the liquid is neon green. she injects it into your inner upper thigh. you are now certain you're going to die today, but you cannot make a break for it with your legs numbed, so you wait.

she says okay this is the part where a lot of people get squeamish so look away if you think you might get sick. she pulls out a set of knives. some of them look like dentistry tools, some of them are medical scalpels, and some of them are kitchen knives. you look away. she starts humming to herself while she works. the tune is pop goes the weasel.

hey, she calls out to you from between your legs, how many nerves do you want in your clit? you say uh i dont know, whats a normal amount. she says about ten thousand give or take two thousand in either direction. you say ten thousand sounds fine. she doesnt respond, just goes back to humming. its a different tune. shes humming old macdonald now.

she gets up a couple times to grab new drinks. you say should you be drinking during an operation? she says dont worry i know what im doing. besides i never took the hippocratic oath. she laughs at that, the sound somewhere between a giggle and a cackle. you don't think its that funny. she resumes her work.

this time shes humming the alphabet song. you ask how old are you anyway? she says somewhere between 12 and 47. then she laughs again. you decide to stop asking questions.

four beers, two diet cokes, three unidentifiable cigarettes, and five hours later, she stands up and announces shes done. she wipes her brow without taking the glove off, smearing unidentifiable bodily fluids across her forehead. she jabs another syringe into your other thigh and the feeling returns to your lower body. you're a little sore but other than that you feel great. she wheels over a full length mirror and tells you to take a look. its perfect. youre everything youve ever dreamed you would be. you cant describe how euphoric it feels to see a vagina, your vagina, between your legs. you thank her tearfully. she smiles awkwardly. of course, shes saying.

how much do i owe you you ask. she shrugs. iunno, a hundred bucks? im not in it for the money. you pay her the hundred bucks and leave quickly. you barely remember to get dressed again before heading out. you have never seen Riley again.

#wormblr #parahumans #worm spoilers #our writing #riley davis #riley grace davis #bonesaw #nsft #uh. look #iunno what this is #i was possessed by a Vision and thought maybe somebody else would like to see it. #dr riley davis mde

[mayfieldss]

Boyfriend!Mac x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

MACGYVER TAGLIST: @ash5monster01

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

[trans-queen-administrator]

Yknow I think Bonesaw could have been pretty good friends with Aisha and the Heartbroken if it wasn't for her brutally torturing and breaking Brian by scattering his organs and nerves across a room while he's still conscious, leaving him a shell of his former self. Which is a pretty big hurdle admittedly, but imagining a universe where that never happened and the rest of the story goes the same I could see it. Aisha already adopted like 10 horrifically abused and poorly adjusted children, Riley would fit right in. The Heartbroken's powers already err on the more fucked up side, and I feel like seeing other capes her age who went through some rough shit and were made to do terrible things would do her some good. There's the slight problem of "oh yeah I put your lame older sister in a hell box under the ocean forever," but... actually hmmm maybe Riley has turned too many siblings into living rooms for this to actually work, I can't just handwave every time she does it. There's pretty good odds that the Heartbroken would think that shit's hilarious though so yknow maybe that's just a nice icebreaker for them.

#worm #parahumans #bonesaw #Riley Davis #the heartbroken #imagine Ward Victoria seeing Aisha get some pizza for her gaggle of misfits #and fucking bonesaw is there

[ash5monster01]

Maybe some Macgyver as your bf headcannons? I love your content! <3

omg I’ve actually never done head cannons before but there are so many I have for the MacGyver fandom it isn’t even funny.

So without further ado, here is my very first attempt.

At least once a week he attempts to cook you dinner. He hates feeling like he’s taking advantage of you since you always cook for him, but he’s so bad at cooking it’s the only thing that makes sense. So you let him try and keep the pizza delivery guy on speed dial.

Whenever he leaves for a mission he makes sure to text I love you at the last possible minute. That way you know how he feels and he doesn’t have to hear you say it back or else he’d never end up going.

He loves teaching you how to fix his motorcycle. Sometimes he breaks something just so he can continue to teach you new things. Hence why it’s still in the living room.

When he proposes he makes your ring out of a paperclip. (I know he made Desi’s ring in the show but something about a paperclip and a broken piece of glass as a diamond suits him much more)

He always goes to Jack for relationship advice. Even if Jack has a zero percent success rate in relationships, no matter what he has the right thing to say.

He never buys you gifts. He makes absolutely everything. One time he even made you a necklace before even considering buying it.

You constantly argue about him not having curtains in his room. You argue that it’s like waking up inside the sun and he argues that you should already be up when the sun is up. You also argue that at any given moment your friends could be on the deck and see you messing around.

He loves when you kiss his scars. Considering he’s got many from field work and bullet wounds from previous relationship casualties. He was always insecure about them until you.

Same goes for his moles. Especially the one on his neck. It’s normally the first spot you kiss and he appreciates it since kids used to pick on him for them in school.

Mac often gets nightmares. When he does you make sure to wrap your arms tightly around him without waking him up until he calms down.

I definitely have more but I will leave you with this for now <3

Masterlist

#macgyver headcanons #macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver headcanons #macgyver x femreader #macgyver requests #macgyver trash #angus macgyver x reader #macgyver imagines #macgyver x reader #macgyver imagine #macgyver #lucas till #lucas till headcanons #lucas till x femreader #lucas till x reader #lucas till imagines #lucas till imagine #lucas till fanfiction #jack dalton #riley davis #wilt bozer #matty webber #macgyver 2016 headcanons #angus macgyver

[junebugtwin]

67 - rotting wounds and bonesaw?

the great thing about Bonesaw is that she gives me an excuse to draw blood <3

#worm #parahumans #bonesaw #riley davis #gore #blood #my art #worm spoilers #color palette

[n0brainjustvibes]

The perfect big sister! <3

Ft. my "Toga Himiko is a Bonesaw" take under the cut:

I'm not very familiar with the superhero genre beyond Worm and MHA, so I might be missing a pre-existing trope - but I think these two share an archetype: Little Girl Villain who juxtaposes extremely gory, visceral acts with a happy and innocent demeanour. Their villain personas epitomise idealised archetypes of girlhood; frilly-dress-and-tea-party '50s little-girl for Bonesaw, and lovesick tween schoolgirl for Toga. These archetypes are anchored to a specific age - the age they were when they lost the chance at a civilian life.

On that note, neither of them got much choice in life, with Toga branded a villain for her Quirk and Bonesaw groomed into villainy by Jack. They both lost their families, and seek a surrogate family in their villain group, whose goal is (ostensibly) mindless destruction.

Is it any wonder that they're frozen in stasis at the age when they were traumatized? I find it interesting that they're both older than their archetypes (Bonesaw, at 12, is pretty much the age of Toga's archetype!) but are unable to move past these personas.

#this is the darkest and saddest thing I've ever posted here #forget The Brain forget jean-paul. it's this. #I have a whole S9!Toga AU based on this comparison #will drop the lore eventually. just gotta write it out coherently #I do wonder if Toga is headed for a healing-and-becoming-a-better-person arc similar to Bonesaw #disclaimer I'm halfway through s6 of the anime so I don't know if it happens later #I don't mind spoilers but only if they're funny or interesting lmao #toga himiko #himiko toga #bonesaw #riley davis #wormblr #worm #bnha #vibes art #bonesaw's hair is a BITCH to draw

[morally-grey-girlbosses]

The top two characters will be eligible to proceed into the bracket!

Propaganda under the cut.

Skitter:

Do you know what you have to do to hurt someone in a fight if your whole power is “controls bugs?” It’s never pleasant. And this is a girl with an almost pathological drive to fight people theoretically much stronger than her. Much maggots-in-eyes and spiders-on-dicks ensue. Committed to being a hero initially, ends up becoming warlord of a whole city while defending it from super-poweeed spree killers, monstrous kaiju, and timeline-severing mobsters. Saves humanity through mass mind-control.

Shes so fucking morally ambiguous I don't even know where to start. She wanted to be a hero and then over the course of 1.7 million words she tricked me into thinking she was rational and ethically sound when she cut out someone's eyes, held someone's dying son hostage in front of them as leverage (she was killing the son), put maggots in someone else's eyes to eat them slowly, shot a fucking toddler with no hesitation, and she's such an amazing unreliable narrator that you root for her. She's genuinely so good at convincing herself that she's morally sound that she convinces the reader of it as well most of the time, but despite the atrocities (and there's a fucking ton of atrocities) she's genuinely a girl who wants to do good and help the world. She fights serial killers, provides food and water and shelter for people who need it, gets her back broken trying to save people, and is generally willing to do whatever it takes to help no matter what that entails. She's a girlboss who is terrifying and determined enough to kill god, she's willing to do anything for the greater good, she has a fucking orphanage as the bottom floor of her supervillain lair. She's so so complicated and such a twist of good and brutality and I cannot stress enough how compelling and morally ambiguous and girlboss she is. I have never seen a character who fits the title "morally ambiguous girlboss" more in my entire life and frankly I doubt I will, no one does it like her.

she went from aspiring hero > supervillain > warlord (still a supervillain) > hero > mind-controlling every cape in the multiverse to kill god. and she did kill god. so. girlboss. but on her first night out she used her bugs to bite a man's dick off. that man? trying to kill kids. those kids? teenage supervillains. she initially joined their teen supervillain group to betray them to the heroes, then joins for real. their boss kidnapped a preteen girl and got said girl addicted to drugs. he used a heist taylor was in as a distraction to kidnap the girl. taylor becomes a warlord and does all sorts of awful things to the other gangs in the city (including putting maggots in a guys eyes, and carving another man's eyes out (bug dick guy) (everything grew back)). the reason she did this? so she could kill her boss and free the preteen girl. She's taken over the city at this point, she's a warlord running a supervillain gang. what's she doing with this power? improving the city's infrastructure. she runs her territory like a panopticon, if anybody who can work isn't working they get the bugs. she's also running an orphanage out of her home. she decides to step down as warlord and join the heroes. while she's in custody, what does she do? that's right. kill superman via dry land drowning in bugs. now she's a superhero. she does stakeouts and pursues gangs to force their younger/more sympathetic members into superheroism. why? to fight the end of the world. the end of the world comes, god is killing every earth in the multiverse and things aren't looking good. what does taylor do? she asks a bio-kinetic who got sent to supervillain alcatraz for sister rape to give her on-the-spot brain surgery. this brain surgery lets her control any person within like 18 feet of her. she uses a portal guy to manage to ensnare every cape in the multiverse and unite them in her fight against god. One cape has a stress induced aneurysm. how do they ultimately defeat god? she makes large-scale replicas of his dead wife everywhere, making him so sad he becomes killable. girlboss. (sorry this was so long! i started and then just kept going. worm is 1.68 million words long and a lot happens in it)

Holy Shit. Holy SHIT dude. She rotted a man's dick off with spider venom. and then she did it again (it grew back). and then she cut his eyes out. this is the first guy she meets. she mutilates *so many* people. one time she withheld a life-saving epinephrine shot from a dying man (he was allergic to bees. she controls bees.) as extortion material. she shoots a baby (it was a mercy). She cut a girl in half (which was actually pretty high up there on the "most heroic things she did" list). She was Seinfeldian rivals with the most dangerous serial killer in existence, until she trapped him in Hell Forever. He's like still there by the end of the second book. she kills God by bullying him to death. All* of this was probably the best thing she could have done in the situation. the tagline of the book is "doing the wrong things for the right reasons." The worst thing she ever really did was to pretend she was straight though.

Did she kill an orphan? Yes. Did she put maggots into a man’s eyes? Yes. Did she do all of this while having intense homoerotic tension? Yes, and that is why she is a girlboss. She also killed Jesus

Tattletale

She has a power and her power is being an asshole. Her supervillain name is Tattletale because she will not shut up about things you didn’t want the world to know. I mean yes she does try to save people but she’s mostly saving them because less people means less lives to ruin!

Miss Militia was submitted without propaganda.

Bonesaw was submitted without propaganda.

#poll #tournament poll #qualifiers #worm web serial #parahumans #wildbow #taylor hebert #skitter #lisa wilbourn #tattletale #miss militia #riley davis #riley grace davis #bonesaw #wormblr