#riley+sunglasses+undercover

[thewriterg]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬, 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. pt.2

pairing(s): simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, john ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, simon ‘ghost’ riley x john ‘soap’ mactavish, force 141 x black!reader, r is referred to as ‘grim’

summary: Going undercover seem to bend a lot of your morals like going to a ball, dressing up, being right under the enemies nose, revealing more information about yourself than needed, having to be more stealthy than violent, and oh! Taking off your mask but Ghost and Soap had yet to complain…

word count: 2.8k+

warning(s): Red Room AU, slowburn-ish, past SA, past abuse, kidnapping, violence, weapons, childhood trauma, trauma in general, teen pregnancy, child loss, abduction, death, blood, destructive behavior, mentions of self harm, polyamory relationships, and language

A/n: —GIFs; @cheapcurry & @collinnmckinley— part 1 thank you guys for 500+ followers! <3

You looked over yourself in the mirror one more time today was the day you had to go undercover with Soap and Ghost and couldn’t help but reluctantly welcome the goosebumps that littered your skin

Some of your Your curls were pinned up in a claw clip the rest of them falling down your shoulder you smoothed your dress over with gloved hands that stoped three to four inches over your elbow that covered majority of your scars the only scar visible was a scar maybe three inches long that dragged from your collarbone to your shoulder

You didn't have many scars on your face but you still has some the most notable one was around six inches that reached from above your eyebrow to the tip of your cheekbone even with the concealer the scar still seeped through but you could only tell if you looked hard enough and it would simply have to do

You didn't have many scars on your face but you still has some the most notable one was around six inches that reached from above your eyebrow to the tip of your cheekbone even with the concealer the scar still seeped through but you could only tell if you looked hard enough and it would simply have to do

Your stomach got that uneasy feeling as you walked towards your door the type of feeling when you were about to get spotted or ambushed and began to call for evac it made your head spin, you felt exposed to your enemies it made you sick

‘You’ve been through worse stop being a fucking pussy and just get this shit over with’

You turned the knob of your door before swinging it open walking down the haul with the click of your heels echoing off the walls when you arrived to the common area you didn't expect the team to be waiting on you expectantly almost and you felt your stiff shoulders tense

Soap felt himself smiling wide at your appearance you were more beautiful than he imagined his white suit with black lining fit him well Ghost on the under hand held his breath he had a mask covering his nose and mouth sunglasses in the front pocket of his tux even though it was reaching dawn the sun had set around thirty minutes prior his blonde hair roughed just below his ears and you noted when he didn't have war paint littering over his eyes they turned out to be blue

Fucking blue.

Price couldn't help his own smirk etched on his face as he stared at the three of you and Gaz just looked somewhat content at the sight in front of him anyone in the damn base would be lying through gritted teeth if they said you all didn't clean up nice

You clean up well, you're a goddamn bonnie lass. Pure dead brilliant” The attention could make you blush but the feeling of heat rising to reach to your cheeks was a feeling that died within you a long time ago it however did not stop you from cracking a small smirk that if you blinked too slow you would miss it but Johnny was indeed staring at you never taking his eyes off you

“Thank you Sarge, you clean up nice as well… both of you.” Your eyes locked with Simon who hadn't gotten a good look at you until now finding the wall more interesting your skin tone with the red of your dress complimented you fully

“Alright now, Gaz got you three on the guest list your going to an auction house. While you are guest you are an unknown surprise guest. This is a strictly informational mission” Price looked at You pointedly and you couldn't help but roll your eyes while Gaz and Soap stifled a chuckle and Ghost held amusement in his clear water eyes

“We won’t be able to signal you. Since the Shadows would be able to pick up on our coms with the long distance range you’ll only have each other” Gaz spoke up now handing the three of you small black ear pieces that were invisible to the opposite, opposing, eye.

“I’ll might be able to hack into the cameras audio but it’s shadows so no promises” You put the piece in your ear along with Ghost and Soap and there was a short beep before it left as quickly as it came

“You lot need to get goin’ it’s gonna start raining soon” Price reminded you of a dad pushing his children out the house to spend time with his wife but you all exited the base getting into the SUV that was also insisted by Gaz to ‘blend in’

There was a driver already in the car and you noted it was one of rookie’s who recently joined and you could practically hear the voices of your team laughing at the fact you were calling another Soldier rookie when you’d only been on the base for going on three months

Three months?

It had been three months already?

Ghost had cleared his throat voiding your thoughts as you looked up into his eyes something you caught yourself doing a lot lately but coming back down from your mind of your own you realized he was holding the door open for you

You propped your foot up on the floor of the car that was much higher than the ground you stood on the heels on your feet did not help your case before you could attempt to jump Soap was already putting his hand under yours to steady yourself as you ducked from the hood now finally sitting in the middle of the car

Soap and Ghost were soon to follow in your footsteps sitting on either side of you as the car began to drive off base you were quick to spread your legs not giving neither of them a chance to ‘man spread’ you’d be damned if you were already sandwiched between the two but being trapped was totally different story

Soap couldn’t help but smirk at you while Ghost just rolled his eyes lips barely curling underneath the fabric of his mask You began to stare outside the window as you watched the scenery pass you by

💌💌💌💌

You all entered the auction house side by side shoulder to shoulder

well Simon and John shoulder to shoulder as your shoulders didn’t reach barely to there biceps

“Good day, name and reservation?” You all didn’t get far which was expected getting stopped by a man, a servant and a woman holding a sort of tablet, both dressed identical in a black button down, a bright red tie, and black slip shoes.

“Simon”

“John”

The women looked over the tablet scrolling with a manicured finger before stopping abruptly putting a hand on Ghosts bicep

“Im sorry babe I don’t see you can you spell it for me” You and Soap watched as his shoulders tensed never faltering

“We should all be under Y/n, Y/l/n if you needed that” You watched the women with a tight smile that she returned back to you and You could feel Ghost and Soaps eyes burning into your temples at each side

Simon had been in this field of work for a long time and he had no problem figuring out who was bull-shiting him but you weren’t you didn’t get those tense shoulders, start darting your eyes, or not keeping still you were telling the truth

“There You all Are, I See There Are three of you would someone else be joining you? We also would like to know the relations you all have with each other this is simply so we could adjust your seating arrangements comfortably” You didn’t need to be a genius to hear the bitterness in the women’s voice you could hear it from a m i l e a w a y

“No, just me and my husbands tonight and our seating arrangements are just fine. You know darling I was just telling you we should go down to fifth and this just proves my point” You turned to look at Soap who contained his smile but couldn’t help the wider smirk that spread across his face

“I know love, just thought we’d tried something new didn’t know everyone here would be mad bampots” Simon couldn’t help but roll his eyes under his sunglasses at you two and you could see his cheekbones that wasn’t covered by his face mask tainting hot pink

“Oh no, no, no! That won’t be necessary, please take a look around there’s a open bar, delicate food, whatever you could need to enjoy yourself enjoy your night” The man had thrown the women a stern look before turning to smile at the three of you

Neither one of you said another word as you began to walk off arms linked looking around the auction house for anything… out of the ordinary

“I see a employees only it’s could be surveillance-” Before you were able to unlink your arms there was a gentle tug on your hand as you looked behind your shoulder at the two men who ‘courted you’ as Price would say

“We’ve got your six… be careful grim” Ghosts gruff yet stern voice stopped you in your tracks for a half of a second a half second too long before you were off splitting from your team you walked up the long staircase the view of the two men becoming more disoriented as the distance grew more

The employees only sign on the door in front of you were written in big red bold letters that could stand out to anyone from across the room but you never were fond of following the rules any how

So with a light hand and quiet feet you stepped towards the door grabbing the handle and pulling open just enough to s l i p your body through the crack you created for yourself there was a man watching different screens of security cameras around the auction house before the man could even get a chance to shout at you or alert anyone of your presence you were putting a hand over his nose and mouth while your other arm locked his head in place with no room to move

‘I hope this fucker doesn’t bite me’

You weren’t surprised that was the only thing you could bring yourself to think about as the man struggled in your hood and you would be lying if you say he didn’t put up a fight as he went limp in your grasp tipping the rolling chair with his body weight before falling out of it completely

“Come on Gaz” You muttered to yourself as you inserted a USB to one of the open slots on the side of the computer as the screen began to buffer you were already backing away from the screen rolling the rolling chair under the door handle blocking anyone from coming in and by the time you had faced the screen it was already on it’s downloading… process

“Grim, do you copy?” Ghosts voice rang in your ears over your coms and it could’ve made you jump… could’ve

“I Copy… found the surveillance room, Gaz is working on it from the base” You stated into the open for your mic to pick up and carry throughout your cold into your teammates ears

“Atta Girl”

It made your head spin

spin.

spin?

SPIN!

“It’s pishin’ it doon out here” Soap grunted over the coms and you could clearly hear the sound of rain pattering against buildings as you slid the USB out of the slot back into your bra stepping over the man you’d let down easy towards the door

“Speak English” Ghosts voice rang shortly after as you slid the chair from underneath the doorknob sliding out of the room as you had once did your heals colliding the sounds of your steps with a ‘clack’

“It’s raining fucking hard” The brunette responded sassily the sound of him opening something distributing between Yours and Ghosts head piece

“Then say so”

“I did”

“Rains good. It’ll cover your tracks” You were now walking back down the stairs a chandelier hanging high above your head as you scanned through your area the conversation of your comrades became white noise

💌💌💌💌

You were all in the building you were done… just like that but of course issues seemed to follow you everywhere you went as chaos and commotion went on around you

Two rich men arguing about a piece they both auctioned for and one of there men were quick to track for a gun when things got too frisky and you couldn’t help but curse under your breath

These type of missions never went as planned

“Shit… Ghost, Grim. You both read me?” Soap shouted over the gunshots that bounced off the walls as citizens screamed duking and dodging bullets as some had already gotten caught in the crossfire lying on the cold ground taking their very last breaths

“Copy”

“Copy”

“I see an opening here at the back by the stage, but you have to get here quick.” You we’re already taking quick and swift footsteps to your supposed pin point hoping that Simon was being just as fast and cautious as you were

You could see Soap in the few meters of distance it didn’t take much to spot that Mohawk and unusual white suit and it only pushed you to run faster even in the damn heals you wore on your feet

“Where the hell do you think you’re going!?” The voice put a skate in your tracks as all of you stood in front of muscled man sunglasses on his face an AK raise at all three of you threatening to squeeze the trigger he was no shorter than Soap but no where near Ghost himself

“Get on your knees before I shoot you all dead!” Your hands were up in the air if you reached to the holster on your thigh covered by your dress you wouldn’t be quick enough and If you were to

Your eyes darted around you as you tried to think quickly on your feet before the back of Simons belt came into your view the holster connected to it he stood close to you close enough to reach for the pistol without seeming too obvious

Your hands slowly trailed towards the gun until your fingertips came into contact with the hard and cold steel and Ghost could feel his usually dead heartbeat in his ears as he felt the weight of your hand on his holster

“Did it fuckin’ stutter!? Get your ass dow-” Two shots rang through the air blending with the ones that already screamed against the walls bouncing in and o u t of your ears the man that once stood in front of your now bled out in front of you on the ground

“He was too cocky for his own good” You sighed heavily while pressing the gun against Soaps chest the barrel facing down before grabbing your own gun from the Hoster on your thigh which he brought to his lips pressing a kiss right on the tip of the barrel while you rolled your eyes at before grabbing the Assault Rifle from off the floor tossing to Ghost which he caught

There was a dead man less than five feet away which you thanked the universe that seemed to be on your side for the moment grabbing the firearm by its strap before slinging it over your shoulder taking the clip that held your hair back dropping it to the floor taking the hair tie that sat on your wrist up bringing your hair into both of your hands securing it in a bun out of your eyes some loose strands framing your face

“The only rule is, we leave here alive.” Ghost stated before kicking the door to an alleyway down as more bullets flew past your head Your body shook as shots fired from your guns the three of your back to back covering each others blind spots Soaps double pistol combination doing him more justice than he thought it would

The ground and walls were a bloody mess and there were occasional blood splatters on your face from when an enemy had gotten a little too close but you all made it out alive.

Didn’t you?

fuck

fuck?

fuck.

fuck!

FUCK!

💌💌💌💌

Let me know if you want to be added to this series or any other taglist

Taglist; @kdkj122920, @whore4dilfs, @piper570, @tomhardy41, @redwolfxx, @abbiesxox, @multitargaryen, @gumboisyum, @catied32, @tamzindouglas, @comedinwithmeyeh,

[casiia]

Do you think Simon Riley would take off his make for their wedding? Or if going somewhere ?

this is such a good question…tbh idk.

i think simon would not associate his personal life with his work life so i think he would! he would have a small lil wedding either at the beach or in his backyard, he’s like one of those grooms who just follow behind their partner while they do all the talking.

as for going somewhere, he would. i feel like the mask would just draw too much attention in public so he’d dress like a celebrity undercover w the sunglasses and big hoodie and he looks homeless next to you because you’re all glammed up.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover Masterlist

Complete ✔ 

Summary

When a state-of-the-art computer chip emerges on the black market, Riley goes undercover as a potential buyer. It's an easy enough assignment, except for being paired up with Mac, who is posing as her playboy, millionaire boyfriend. That part gets complicated.

Content Warnings

Swearing & canon-typical violence

Chapters

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. 

Or, if you prefer: AO3

[anjanettexcordonia]

Trust

A/N: mentions of kidnapping, language

Word Count: 956

A/N: I have been MIA for about 6 months or so, so I have decided to start over with tags, so if you would like to be tagged just let me know or shoot me a message.

I woke up today. I woke up and that’s as far as I’ve gotten. I called in sick for my shift tonight. I don’t know if it is due to fear of the weird shit going on in my life or the fact that I have had a solid two hours of sleep. Sleep when you're dead, I think that’s a saying. But nonetheless I’m a realist, remember, I need to get up, push the bullshit to the back of my mind and take Chance to the dog park. Some fresh air would do me some good.

An hour later, Chance & I are on our way to the local dog park. Treats and poop bags in tow, today is a self care day I decide. Maybe the spa, no fuck that, a large pizza and crime documentaries on the couch, is my definition of self care. Real high class Riley. And to that realization, I can’t for the life of me think of why some rich foreign KING would want ANYTHING to do with a regular girl like me.

After a vigorous game of fetch and a jog around the park, I’m sitting at a green metal bench watching Chance tennis balls with another pup friend when.. “Riley Brooks?” My blood froze in my veins. The voice sat down beside me without invitation mind you. “I didn’t get to properly introduce myself last night. I’m Liam.” It’s him. It’s him. Jesus Christ it’s him. “CHANCE.” I grab his leash from the table. “CHANCE LET'S GO BUDDY.” “Riley, please wait.”

“Are you following me?” I interrupt.

“No, I just uh, I need to talk to you.”

“I know who you are. I do not appreciate being followed to my place of business, my home or here. I don’t care what you have to say or what information you think you have. Leave me alone.” I took a step toward Chance to retrieve him, he was still playing.

“You’re home? Riley has someone been to your home?”

“Like you don’t know Mr. King Liam of whatever country you’re from. And judging by your accent it’s a long way from here.” I took another step creating as much distance as possible but I could feel myself being pulled toward him. His eyes were like Caribbean waters, so enticing I just wanted to bathe in them. Naked.

“You’re right I am King but you have to listen, Riley, you’re in danger.” At his words, another man adorning black sunglasses, a suspiciously authoritative black suit and ear piece. Straight out of a damn movie. “I need you to listen to me.”

“What the fuck? Are you trying to kidnap me?” My voice grew louder with each word.

“Shh no Riley, I just need you to trust me. We need you to get you to safety now.” Liam’s tone was hushed. He noticed the eyes around the park land on him and his bodyguard. Bodyguard I assume. A guy like him would have a bodyguard.

“Trust you, I don’t even know you!” My tone not really matching my words. I was intrigued to say the least. Not really sure why but I was. There was a magnetism and a curiosity to Liam I wanted to get to the bottom of. Needed to, a primal need.

“Sit down, please.” He motioned to the bench. I sat reluctantly.

“Riley, your parents.” I put my hands up stopping him.

“My parents are dead. Whoever you’re speaking of are not my parents, so tread carefully.”

He nodded in understanding. His blonde hair sparkled in the sunlight. His chiseled chin with at least two days worth of hair growth tensed.

“There’s a dangerous faction of people in my government, that are after you. The order of the White Dove is what they call themselves. We have been unable to identify any of the exact members but we have suspicions. This group is responsible for the deaths of your biological parentage Elizabeth and Joseph Malcolm of Edinburgh. And we have reason to believe you are a target since your discovery.”

“But how do they know who I am? And how do I know you’re not a part of this order of the dove?” I didn’t want to believe it but I did. For some reason none of the things he had just told me surprised me.

“I am here to protect you, that’s all.” The softness of his smile instantly made me believe him.

“There’s more, but I’ll have to show you. Will you trust me?”

I mulled over his revelation. If he’s lying, he’s probably going to kill you; if he’s telling you the truth someone else is going to kill you.

“Here.” I handed him the business card I shoved in my pocket before I left my apartment this morning. “Chance is coming with me.”

Liam handed the business card to his guard who started talking into his piece.

I scooped up Chance and followed the men out of the park to a suv. “I’ll need to stop by my apartment to grab some things.” I spoke softly.

“No need, my team is there now. Everything you need will be on the jet.”

“The jet? I didn’t agree to that.” I sat up in my seat. “I need to let my roommate know what’s going on.”

Liam brushed his hand against mine. A feeling of security washed over me. I immediately snatched my hand from him.

“Where are we going?”

“Scotland.”

——

“She’s with him. It’s time to go.” Drake stood in Olivia’s bedroom.

“What does she know?” Olivia slipped on her novel black stilettos.

“Nothing yet. Except that her parents were killed and she’s in danger.”

“Did the plan work?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve been undercover way too long.” She slide the gun in its holster on wrapped around her thigh.

“Ready to go home Livvy? The jet is waiting.”

Tags: @txemrn @gkittylove99 @busywoman @kingliam2019 @tessa-liam

[bbrandy2002]

The Devil Wears Denim

Part of @emceesynonymroll​ ‘s Wacky Drabble’s #35/36???

Part 2 of 3 from the Little Sh!t series

Summary: Drake and Alyssa are stuck with Nikolas for the night.

Wacky Drabble Prompt: Aren’t you going to read the instructions

Using Friends Prompts from @loveellamae​  In fact, I’m undercover right now. I’m a whore and What’s the worst that could happen? I could die.

A/N: Thanks @burnsoslow​ for letting my little menace torture your couple and pre-reading. I’m fairly certain that one part was written more for your enjoyment (it wasn’t supposed to be that long Burns... lol).

Look Enna! I wrote two drabbles in less than a month :) And we have a worldwide pandemic to thank for that.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hell no! That little shit is not staying in our house.” Drake spat at the small boy who had his father’s boyish looks and his mother’s witty charm.

“Drake. He’s just a little boy,” Alyssa defended. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I could die.”

Alyssa chuckled and wrapped her thin arms around Drake’s waist. She was somewhat amused by what was perceived to be her boyfriend being overly dramatic. “You are not going to die. I’ve been with him most of the afternoon and he’s been a perfect, well-behaved child. And besides, it’s already getting late and Riley could really use a break to deal with her … post-mortem detention.”

“Baby, I love your kind heart. I really do,” he said while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “But, Liam and Riley have a nanny who can help out with the kids. He doesn’t need to stay here.”

Alyssa shook her head. “No. Nik said she got fired.”

Drake furrowed his brows at his young god-son. “Your parent’s fired, Hilda?” he interrogated.

“Nope. I had to let her go, Uncle Drake.” Nik replied while opening a can of soda he helped himself to from the Walker fridge. “She wasn’t following my rules.”

“What damn rules?” Drake scowled.

Nik took a sip of his soda and made a sour face before he dumped it whole into the trash can. “You know … don’t be a snitch. She ratted me out to my dad about running over the Countess of Genitalia. And you know what they say about snitches, Uncle Drake … they get stitches.”

Drake gave Alyssa a knowing look who doesn’t even seem to notice due to her own shock.

“Oh my god, Nikolas! What’d you do to her?”

The young boy flashed her a cocky wink and a smirk. “Nothing a long wig and pair of sunglasses can’t cover-up, my love.”

Alyssa snapped an astonished glance at her boyfriend who simply shrugged. “Told ya.”

She followed behind Nikolas who pulled out a chair at the table and started coloring.

She crouched down next to him and took a deep breath. “Okaaay. Look, Nik. I had a lotta fun hanging out with you today, I really did, but it’s probably best if you go back to your home for the night.”

Nikolas stopped coloring to look at her; his face crestfallen, and sighed. “I understand, Miss Alyssa. Just know that I will never forget you. Your smile … your laugh … your lovely lady lumps. That kick-ass grilled cheese you made me. And how you taught me to make useless shit with yarn and pipe cweaners … you make me want to be a better boy … a better prince for Condomonia.

Drake rolled his eyes and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. “Give me a fucking break. I’m calling Liam right now and having him send someone to pick up your ass.”

Alyssa stood and leaned into Drake. “You probably should watch your language around him.”

“Seriously, Alyssa? The boy just said shit and that’s one of his milder ones,” he scoffed while placing the phone to his ear. “He once made the entire Royal Guard cry after bitching them out.”

Alyssa winced and scratched her head as Drake walked away to make his call. She was somewhat confused, having met Nikolas’ parents during a few social gatherings. Liam was always very courteous and respectful; every bit the compassionate leader she had heard of him. Riley appeared to be a loving mother who doted on her children and husband.

As she watched this child, with his little tongue sticking out while he worked studiously on a drawing of an anaconda that appeared to be squeezing the life out of the man she loved, Alyssa pondered whether he was just misunderstood. She was pulled from her thoughts when Drake moved up beside her with a fake laugh.

“Well...Apparently the entire palace is on a damn lock-down after they found the German Prime Minister hogtied in a linen closet. The German security forces won’t allow anyone in, or out until they catch the supposed midget in tactical gear that apparently waterboarded her. So, of course, Liam is busy dealing with that shit and Riley’s phone went straight to voicemail. Got anything you wanna confess kid”

Nikolas continued to color, completely unfazed. “I told her she could come out when she agreed to my dad’s trade steal. She smelled like an old lady anyway .. she wouldn’t have been missed.”

Drake ran a hand down his face, trying to keep his cool.

Alyssa pulled him to the opposite end of the kitchen and lowered her voice.

“Look, baby. Listen .... we’re not going to panic, okay?  I will keep him busy and out of your hair. He seems to respond well to me and we’ll just make the best of it, alright? 

“Lyssa … we had plans for tonight, remember? I really wanted to spank that sexy ass in those new restraints.” He flashed a devilish grin with a pinch to her backside

She bit her lip, returning a sultry gaze. “Oh that shit’s still happening, Drake Walker.”

“Promise?”

She stood on her tiptoes to place a peck on his lips. “Promise. As soon as he falls asleep.”   

Feeling a gnawing burn in the pit of his stomach, Drake ran his fingers through his hair and glanced at the little prince. “You really think you can handle him where we both don’t wind up in a shallow grave in the backyard?”

Alyssa stood up straighter with a confident smile. “I believe so, yes.” 

Drake sulked as he sauntered back across the kitchen and Alyssa began pulling pots from the cabinet.

He towered over the boy. “Okay, kid. You can stay.”

“Really?” Nikolas beamed.

Drake gave him a stern look while he lightly gripped the back of Nik’s neck. “Yeah. But, you try any funny shit, Nikolas and I swear to god I’ll bust your ass.”

Nikolas tried to stifle a laugh that he hoped his uncle noticed … and Drake did. “God, you’re such a little asshole. I’m gonna go feed the horses,” he dismissed.

“Alright Nik, how about you help me with dinner … spaghetti and meatballs!” Alyssa called cheerfully for him as she filled a pot with water.

“Anything for you, my queen!”

Alyssa was right in her assumption that Nik would not cause any problems for her. She didn’t say anything to him as the meatballs he formed were in the shape of penises; it was obvious he was fishing for attention. Drake, on the other hand, was quick to refuse to eat the “little dicks staring at him” for dinner, especially ones that had Nikolas grubby paws on them. 

And after playing an hour of Grand Theft Auto, in which he tried to teach her how to get the hooker to slash the throat of a pimp, he took a bath, brushed his teeth, and settled into the guest room.

“Good night, Miss Alyssa,” he croaked in his sleepy voice. He tucked the stuffed dragon his father gave him into his chest and closed his eyes.

She smiled as she flipped the light switch by the door. “Good night, Nikolas.”

Drake was still alive and in one piece, and Nikolas, surprisingly, hadn’t disturbed him the entire evening. Now it was time to retire the babysitter cap for the night and try out the new toy that she and Drake had been waiting for hours to use.

“He.Is.Out.” Alyssa proclaimed as she entered the master bedroom; her arms animating each word she spoke. 

Drake, who was standing on the top rung of a ladder wearing nothing but denim boxershorts, clipped a chain through a metal hook in the ceiling. “It’s about damn time!”

Alyssa gawked curiously at the contraption as the rest of the chain fell. She tugged on the bottom where two leather wrist cuffs were attached an arm’s length above her short frame. The last thing she wanted was a heavy strand of steel crashing down while Drake made a bad girl out of her. 

When she felt confident the chain was secure, she performed a sexy striptease while her lover’s hands roamed over each newly exposed section of skin. Drake unsnapped the metal buckles on the leather cuffs and fastened her wrist into each one.

“Wait! Aren’t you going to read the instructions?” Alyssa’s eyes flashed to Drake as if the idea suddenly popped into her head.

“Baby, I think I know what to do with these. Your hands go in here … and my hands …” He slid his fingers between her moistened folds. “go down there.” Alyssa shuddered at his husky voice and the feeling of anticipation that pooled inside of her.

Drake raised his brows. “You remember the safe word?”

“Hmm-mm. Bertrand,” she replied with a quick nod.

A smile dangled on the corner of his lips. “Very good.”

Drake slapped the leather flog across his hand and prowled like a wolf, ready to pounce its prey, around his girlfriend. Her arms outstretched tightly above her head.

“Somebody’s been a verrry bad, girl.” Alyssa teased. Her blue eyes shifting between the leather and his denim bulge.

“Oh yeah?”  He licked his lips while continuing his sensual stroll.

“Yeah. In fact, I’m undercover right now. I’m a whore … a very naughty whore.”

Drake halted his movements and raised the flog. “I suppose I’ll have to punish you then … my very naughty undercover whore.”

“Ohh no, Officer Walker! Please don’t hurt me! Me so horny, me love you long time!”

Meanwhile…

One, beady blue eye popped open from a disturbance occurring on the floor directly above him. It was a sound he wasn’t that familiar with. For the last year, he had memorized the sound of pain, yet this particular scream was unlike anything he had heard before from any of his usual victims. 

“Drake! Fuck that hurts!”

The second eye popped open. He heard her yell out again and again. The sound of torture and agony reverberated through the ceiling and fell upon his perked up ears. 

Was his Uncle Drake murdering Alyssa?

“Oh my god, Drake! You’re killing me!”

It seemed so.

But, would he actually murder his own girlfriend?

“Devereaux, I’m gonna shove this thing in you so hard.”

Likely.

Nikolas tossed off the covers and crept out of his bed. He slithered across the room, flipped on the lights, and retrieved his backpack that lay on top an old dresser. 

It was time to put a plan into action, save his woman and make sure Drake Walker regretted the day he’d ever been born.

[ao3feed-macgyver2016]

by refinedbuffoonery

When a state-of-the-art computer chip emerges on the black market, Riley goes undercover as a potential buyer. It's an easy enough assignment, except for being paired up with Mac, who is posing as her playboy, millionaire boyfriend. That part gets complicated.

Words: , Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: MacGyver (TV 2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Riley Davis, Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Desiree "Desi" Nguyen, Wilt Bozer (MacGyver TV 2016), Matilda "Matty" Webber

Relationships: Riley Davis/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)

Additional Tags: undercover op, the slowest of burns, Mutual Pining, ALL THE GOOD STUFF

[simply-wins-little-sis]

Jamming Out

Request: Can you do female teen reader where your jamming out to fall out boy, panic! And a bit of soul punk (if ya want) and Sam and dean come early from a hunt and find out you listen to them and tease you about it and it’s just some cute sibling fluff?

Edited By the lovely @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo

Tags: @winchesters-favorite-girl​ @percussiongirl2017  @the-third-winchester-warrior  @hellhoundlover @emmazach @sisterwinchesterwriter  @fandom-queen-of-wonderland @staticweekes @hi-my-name-is-riley @a-paranoid-bastard @because-you-never-know-when @enchantingempathhumanoidturtle @alexwinchester23 @winchesterhound  @rosie-winchester

Pairings: Sam and Dean x little sister Winchester! Reader

A/N : This was actually something I changed for the request. I wrote a lip sync sister one awhiillleee back and never posted it here....whoop! I added TOP because of the new album I’m super stoked for- whoops!

Your socks slid across the bunkers linoleum floor. Your sunglasses slapping down onto your nose, the slight pinch not interrupting your fun at all.

Taking a running start, you hurled yourself onto your older brother Sam’s bed, screaming the lyrics to an old Twenty-One Pilots song. You slammed your butt onto his pillows, your head crashing into the headboard Dean had found on the side of the road.

Your messy hair flipped its weight as you spun towards the center of the mattress, Dean’s oversized flannel swinging around your hips.

You were in a pair of spanks (from the time you went undercover as a cheerleader at a haunted high school) and the flannel only. Your sports bra had cut off too much of the energy flow you were trying to create.

After a good throwback came on, Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy, you had lost track of the chores you were supposed to be doing and started dancing.

Seven energy shots and twelve sour patch kid packets later you were bobbling around the makeshift home like you were a ticking time bomb, going to explode into a million specks of the sugar you had consumed.

“WEEEEEEE ARRRRRRRREEEEEEEE THHHHEEEEE WWIIIIILLLDDDDDDDDDDD!” not even sure your words matched those of the recording you had replayed a half dozen times by now you moved onto Dean’s bedroom.

His bed was already a mess, so it was easier to glide along the thin sheets. As the song switched so did your location.

Your sunglasses were some old ones you had found in your junk drawer earlier that morning, and boy were they useful now.

“OOOHHHHHH IT’S SATURDAY NIGHTTTTT!” you copied the new Panic! At the Disco song as best you could.

Up on a library table you began to shake and shimmy, forgetting all about the incoming arrival of your brothers.

The song switched and once again your location did as well. You had Charlie hack the intercom system, so your songs were quite literally sounding through the walls.

“A hotter touch, a better fu-,” You yelled along.

“Y/N Y/M/N Winchester, what in the hell are you doing,” Dean’s voice boomed in tight competition with the sound waves. You quickly scrambled for your phone, fishing through your pockets and then realizing its location.

You crept off the countertop and moved to the fridge. You opened the door, tracing your finger along the inside of where the energy shots had been, gripping the device and then shutting off the music.

“What was that?” Sam asked.

“SoIgotkindofboredwithchoresandthenIfoundtheenergyshotsandthenthesourpatchkidsandthenCharliehackedtheiintercomsandPanichadanewalbumandIcouldntresist.”

It was all strung so closely together your brothers gave out confused faces.

“She’s sugar high, I think,” Sam guessed, snatching your phone from your fingers. You shrugged your shoulders.

“You’re lucky we don’t ground you…” Dean began, “What even was that trash you were blasting my poor eardrums with?”.

“Really, Panic! At the Disco?” Sam remarked, flipping through some things. You impatiently tapped your foot.

Soon Eye of The Tiger began to echo throughout the bunker halls.

“This…this is real music…not that crap you were listening too,” Dean began to move to the beat.

Soon enough all three Winchesters were on the kitchen counter, sunglasses popping onto the bridges of their noses, screaming the lyrics.

[refinedbuffoonery]

2. What scene did you first write down?

For Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover 😘😘😘

from these fic asks

The entire fic started after I said (in real life), “Have you ever noticed that the size of someone’s sunglasses directly correlates to how entitled they are?” 

I gave that line to Bozer, and then Riley’s grand entrance in the beginning of Ch 2 dawned on me like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

From my original brainstorm:

“Have you ever noticed that the size of someone’s sunglasses directly correlates to how entitled they are?” (Bozer to Mac)

Immediately after, Riley enters wearing massive, rhinestone-encrusted sunglasses and a ridiculously tight spaghetti-strap dress that barely covers her ass. She’s undercover as a wealthy American heiress (according to her cover, her father is the CEO and president of some fancy tech company). Mac and Bozer’s jaws drop, and their eyes almost bug out of their heads when they see her. 

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (8)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3. 

This is it! The end! Thank you all so much for coming on this wild ride of a story with me. I have lots of good stuff in the works (aka what distracted me from finishing this), so stay tuned!! Now, without further adieu...

*****

Riley slept horribly, courtesy of Desi kicking her once every few hours. How Mac tolerated sharing a bed with that woman for so long was beyond her. 

Awake for the fourth time that night, Riley was too exhausted to fight off the intrusive thoughts lurking in the peripheral of her consciousness. The things she’d said to Petrov….Riley could learn to live with it. She didn’t have a choice not to. Mac’s reassurances helped, but more than anything else, Desi’s words stuck with her. 

I saw you under the mask. 

You didn’t scare me. 

You were more in control than you think. 

Mac would always tell her things would be okay. But Desi….Desi wouldn’t. Desi was honest to a fault. Somehow that made Riley feel better. 

She glanced at the woman slowly taking over the entire bed. Riley hoped Desi would forgive her for kissing Mac. It wasn’t like Mac left Desi for her, but she didn’t want Desi to think there was some ulterior motive on Mac’s part. There wasn’t...was there? 

God, this thing with Mac had barely started, and it was already so messy. It didn’t sit right with her. 

Wanting nothing more than for this mission to be over so she could go home and think, Riley rolled onto her side, lying back to back with Desi, and waited for sleep to claim her once more. 

*****

“Want to see what kind of trouble we can get into?” Mac asked, wide awake despite only getting four hours of sleep. 

“This is going to get us killed, isn’t it.” Desi’s response wasn’t a question. 

He feigned offence. “I can restrain myself.” 

Bozer frowned. “You absolutely cannot.” 

“Mac can’t what?” Riley asked, stumbling into the main room still half asleep. Her feet shuffled across the floor, like picking them up and taking a real step was too much effort. They’d let her sleep in, since Petrov didn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon, although looking at her, Mac wasn’t sure how much sleep she’d actually gotten. Even less than him, probably. 

Desi answered Riley’s question, leveling Mac with a pointed look. “Can’t restrain himself from doing something stupid.” 

Riley managed a dry, “Is this supposed to be news?” She looked horrible--that soul-crushing type of horrible that seemed to always descend after someone’s world blew up in their face. She held Mac’s gaze, but there was no trace of the light that should’ve filled her eyes after a heated confession like theirs. 

Dread filled Mac’s stomach. What if she changed her mind? 

Riley plopped herself in a chair and opened her laptop. “So what stupid thing does Mac want to do? Spiderman his way into Petrov’s room with some TV cables and toilet plunger?” 

Mac smirked. It wasn’t a bad idea. If he used the cables to make a ladder…

Bozer cut off his train of thought. “Oh no! I see where you’re going with that, and the answer is hell no.” 

Mac continued working out how to pull off Riley’s joke plan while his friends jabbered. “How about I just do my thing and we go from there,” Riley finally said, yawning. No one was dumb enough to object to that. 

While they waited for Riley to do...whatever she was doing, Mac came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She flinched. 

Oh. 

“Sorry,” she rushed to apologize. “You surprised me.” Mac frowned at her blatant fib. She’d never flinched from his touch before. Not even once. Tensed, maybe, but never outright flinched. Fuck. He removed his hands. 

“So what’s your great and grand plan?” he asked, forcing himself to move past the awkwardness. 

“Hack into the hotel’s system to see his check-out day--it’s today, by the way--and let Interpol know they should come pick him up.” 

That...that was a lot easier than any of the things he had been thinking. 

“When--” he started. 

“Agents will be here in twenty to pick him up.” Indifferent and professional. Like he was some random agent assigned to the mission. Not her partner of five years. Not her friend. 

Not her...person she confessed feelings for less than twelve hours ago. What the hell happened? 

He wasn’t ready for the answer to that question. 

Ignoring the churning in his stomach, Mac asked, “What about the rest of Petrov’s collective?” 

“Hopefully Interpol can use Petrov and his bodyguards for information to take them out. From what I’ve read about him, his relationships with business partners are questionable at best.” Riley craned her neck to look at him, her sleep-lined face soft and wary. “Either way, it’s out of our hands now.” 

Mac wasn’t sure if it was the dark circles under her eyes or the way her voice softened at the end of her sentence that made him throw caution to the wind. He changed his mind. He needed to know what changed her mind about him. About them. 

“Riles,” he murmured. 

Quietly, she said, “I’m not ready to talk about it.” 

Mac wanted to scream. They had everything they wanted right in front of them, and Riley was chickening out and refusing to explain why. “You have to give me something.” She didn’t. She most definitely didn’t. He wasn’t entitled to shit. 

Riley twisted in her chair to face him head-on. “Are you sure we aren’t making a massive mistake?” 

She might as well have slammed him face-first into a slab of concrete. He didn’t know how to respond to that. 

Of course they weren’t making a mistake. She was it for him...wasn’t she? 

Bozer’s warning echoed in his head. You need to take more time to get your shit together before going all in with Riley. Did she think the same way? 

She started rambling. “This is already just so messy. You and Desi just broke up, and we were so distracted she got kidnapped last night, and I don’t want to wake up two months from now and realize I was just a rebound and none of this was real.” Mac wanted to stop her, reassure her of his feelings, but that nagging little voice stopped him. 

Do you want her because you love her, or because you're afraid of being alone? 

He knew as long as Riley was alive, he’d never be alone in the world. A sickening thought bubbled up like bile. Was he just taking advantage of her? 

He wasn’t. He didn’t think he was. Not intentionally. He couldn’t do that to her….right?

Lost in his head, her words were so unexpected they barely registered at first. 

“We can’t do this,” Riley said softly. She solely focused on his eyes, reading the hurt and confusion in them. She knew, exactly, the effect her words had on him. Mac knew they had the same effect on her. 

Mac’s heart shattered into a million pieces, and in that moment he knew without a trace of doubt. He loved her. He was in love with her. 

But did he need to let her go? 

*****

A message popped up on Riley’s computer from her Interpol contact. He’s not here. 

Riley let out a string of foul language that made even Desi’s eyebrows skyrocket. Petrov wasn’t there. He probably left hours ago, if the team's recent string of bad luck was any indicator. He could be anywhere by now. Scrambling to task a Phoenix satellite to track the mob boss down, Riley cursed herself for not checking to see if he’d already left. 

She was smarter than that. 

This whole op was a mess. In every way possible. 

Matty would skin her alive when they got back to L.A. Whatever faith Matty had in her ability to spearhead an op just went up in smoke, if it hadn’t already. Fuck. 

Riley babbled an excuse about getting dressed and made a beeline for the bathroom. She felt herself spiraling, but she didn’t care. 

In her peripheral vision, Mac and Bozer shared a concerned look, no doubt silently debating who would follow her. She wished they wouldn’t be so obvious about it. She wished she couldn’t read them so well. 

From the safety of the bathroom, Riley heard a door slam. Steady footsteps approached. Mac. Those were Mac’s footsteps. God, why did it have to be Mac? 

Riley didn’t miss his hesitation before knocking. 

Everything was so fucked up. 

His voice was soft, like he was talking to a child or a frightened animal. “Hey, it’s not your fault,” Mac reassured through the gap. She hadn’t closed the door all the way, she realized. 

Some sick part of her wanted to laugh at how wrong he was. “Of course it’s my fault, Mac. It’s my op!” She yanked her jeans up. “This whole thing is a fucking mess.” 

This op was a mess. Their relationship was a mess. Hell, she was a mess. 

Dressed--in normal clothes, mercifully--Riley flung the door open with a frustrated sigh and found herself face to face with Mac, who looked like he just got punched in the gut. 

Icy blue eyes heavy with sadness, he spoke impossibly softly. “Is that what you think this is? A mess?” 

The implications of his question utterly wrecked her. She replied, equally softly, “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” 

No, it wasn’t supposed to be like this at all. Her feelings had only spilled because they were fighting--for once in their lives--bubbling up like a pot of rice boiling over. At least she didn’t admit she was in love with him. She still had that, tucked away for when the right moment arose. 

If it arose. 

She regretted ever wishing this op would end with her and Mac alone in a hotel room. 

Riley didn’t know how long they were silent before she continued. “I know improvising is what we do, but I don’t want to improvise with you.” 

“Riles,” he choked back a sob. “I can’t lose you too.” 

Fuck. That wasn’t what she meant. She scrambled to explain. “You’re not losing me. Never.” A small glimmer of hope lit his eyes. “I don’t want to improvise because I want to build something permanent.” With you, she didn’t need to add. 

There was a “but” coming, and the look on his face told her he knew it. “But,” she grimaced, “I don’t think either of us are ready for that yet.” 

Her cheeks were wet. She didn’t know when she started crying. She couldn’t stop. 

Fighting back tears of his own, Mac asked, “What do we do now?” 

Riley extended her hand. Mac glanced between her hand and eyes, hesitating. It felt like an eternity passed before he carefully laced their fingers. 

“We get our shit together, together.” Her heart threatened to shatter into a billion tiny fragments, held together only by hope that someday, they’d both have the happiness they deserved. That this thing between them, it would wait for them like a sunflower facing east, waiting for the sun to rise. 

Searching her face, Mac tugged her closer, closing the gap between them until there was barely enough room left to breathe. She knew what he was asking. Riley tilted her chin up, and it was all the confirmation he needed. His nose brushed hers, causing her breath to hitch. Mac’s eyes burned as he lowered his lips to hers, so hesitant and light Riley almost didn’t feel it at first. He kissed her so heartbreakingly gently, their free hands slowly twining together. 

It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, but God it felt like one. Honest feelings with bad timing could go fuck themselves. 

A quiet ding from Riley’s laptop finally forced them apart. For a moment, they stood utterly still, foreheads touching, just breathing each other’s air. As soon as they separated, they’d go back to being just friends. For now, she reminded herself. However long that was. 

Finally, Riley managed a halfhearted smile. “Come on, we’ve got a mob boss to catch.” 

*****

The elevator smoothly stopped on the ground floor, and Riley continued ignoring the concerned looks Desi gave her. She’d fixed her makeup, but no amount of concealer could hide the puffy, red-rimmed “I just finished crying” look in her eyes. 

“Riley--” her friend started. 

“I’m fine.” Lie. She wasn’t fine. Not even close. But she would be, eventually. 

Reaching into her bag, Riley pulled out the massive, rhinestone-encrusted sunglasses she’d worn when she first arrived. Some cynical part of herself laughed at how naïve she’d been, thinking this op would just be about looking sexy and stealing some new, fancy tech. 

As if they were a piece of armor, Riley slid the sunglasses on moments before the elevator door opened, putting up the Danika Jackson façade beneath them. 

You’ve got this, she reassured herself. 

Beside her, Desi replaced her concern for the stony glare of a well-paid bodyguard, and together, they sauntered across the lobby and out into the street beyond. 

After all, they had a mob boss to catch. 

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (7)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3. 

Second to last chapter! All I can say about this one is....there will be lots of screaming when y’all are done reading. 

*****

Riley was vaguely aware of Mac turning off the shower as she muted her comms and pulled her hair out of her face between waves of nausea. His soft “Holy shit” barely even registered over her own voice in her head, replaying the conversation with Petrov. 

Call off your dogs and let us and everyone else leave the hotel, and in exchange I will return your locket and won’t expose you as a fraud.

Over and over and over again, her mind replayed the moment where she’d threatened to throw him out the window and watch him splatter on the ground. 

And if I don’t agree?

Then I will use my recording of this conversation to clone your voice and command your men to stand down myself before throwing your useless body out the window and taking bets on which direction your blood will spray when you splatter on the pavement.

Unwillingly, she pictured doing just that. While falling, Petrov flailed his arms and legs, like if he just tried hard enough, he could grab onto thin air and save himself. He landed on the concrete like a wet sock. 

The mental image made Riley puke again, bile burning her throat. 

She’d liked it. The thrill of power, the high-stakes challenge, the adrenaline rush while threatening Petrov. For ten minutes, she was the kind of woman who could stand her ground against Matty the Hun. Riley understood now why Matty fed her reputation as a cold-hearted bitch. A persona like that was brutal, but effective. Riley liked wearing that mask, and that scared the shit out of her more than anything else. 

Mac stroked her spine, murmuring “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” His touch didn’t electrify her. It didn’t send her pulse racing and make her breathing uneven. Instead, his touch was soothing, relaxing--grounding her in reality. 

When there was nothing left in her stomach, she wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. Mortification creeped over her as she realized Mac was kneeling beside her wearing a towel. Wearing only a towel.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered. She needed to get out of there. God, she needed to get out of there right fucking now because the worry creasing his face and his lack of clothes and the fact that she’d just threatened to murder someone in cold blood and kind of liked it was too much to handle all at once. 

Mac looked at her intently, completely not caring that he was practically naked. “What happened?” She looked away instead of answering. ”Riley?” 

Riley spied his earpiece sitting on the counter--confirmation he had no idea what she’d said to Petrov. “Mac, I...the person I was in there...she was terrifying. And the worst part was the longer I was her, the easier it was. I liked being her, and then it got out of control.” She met his eyes. Whatever he saw in her face hit him like a punch to the gut; he sucked in a breath and momentarily froze. His reaction vanished in a flash, but Riley didn’t miss it. God, what did he think of her right now? 

As if in answer, Mac pulled her into a hug, strong arms holding her steady. “It’s over,” he cooed. “You did what you had to do.” The second his arms wrapped around her, Riley felt all the tension begin to drain from her body, a shuddering sigh escaping her lips in relief. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Riley buried her face in his neck, arms weakly raising so she could cling to his broad, surprisingly cool shoulders. She didn’t have the energy to wonder why his skin was so cold. 

Riley focused on the feeling of his hands on her body--one squeezing her waist, the other pressed below her shoulder. It felt as though Mac was the only thing stopping the world from dropping out from under her and sending her plummeting into an abyss of things she didn’t necessarily want to confront. 

There was something extremely intimate about sitting on the bathroom floor with Mac that had nothing to do with feelings or the fact that he was essentially naked. Intimacy had nothing to do with sex, and it had everything to do with truth. Being able to tell someone her truth, show someone her most vulnerable self, and their response was You’re safe. I’ve got you.-- that was intimacy. Riley didn’t hesitate to let Mac see her at her most vulnerable. And when faced with her vulnerability, Mac tucked her into his chest and reminded her she didn’t have to deal with shit alone. He wasn’t great at verbal reassurances, but Riley didn’t mind. All she needed was for him to just be there. 

I love you, she thought. Almost as if he were responding, Mac pressed a light kiss to her bare shoulder. They’d broken so many boundaries already that night she didn't think twice about it. It just felt right. 

Taking in a shaky breath, Riley let the scent of expensive soap and Mac fill her lungs as she fully leaned into him, trusting him to support her no matter what. 

“How did you get the scar on your right arm?” he asked after a few minutes of soothing silence. She knew what he was doing. Riley welcomed the distraction. 

“Which one?” 

“On your forearm, below your elbow. I felt it earlier.” 

She finally pulled away. “Oh, that one. I burnt myself while straightening my hair a couple weeks ago. Turns out hot tools and earthquakes are not a good combination.” Her joke fell flat, but Mac had the decency to smile anyway. 

That stupid smile. That stupid smile on his stupid handsome face with his stupid chiseled jaw and his stupid blue eyes. She looked away. 

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid. 

Mac’s hand slid down her back, a brief, light touch. It was nothing more than a simple I’m here. Even though it was meant to be friendly and supportive, it set her every nerve on fire. Mac’s hand fell away too quickly, as if he didn’t intend to touch her at all.

She could still feel his lips from their last kiss. 

For five minutes, he was just her best friend, but now those pesky feelings were back, full force. She didn’t know enough biology to explain the pain in one’s chest when all they wanted was to be with someone. All she knew was that it hurt. A lot. Those little touches transformed from her lifeline to her destruction. 

Riley glanced back at him and found Mac studying her. There was a softness in his eyes that wasn’t normally there. Just enough to make her wonder...no. He didn’t like her like that. Didn’t want her like that. 

Regardless, the look reminded her that she owed him an apology. “I’m sorry I snapped earlier. You can call me ‘Riles.’” She missed the nickname. 

“Okay.” He cupped her cheek, fingertips tangling in her thick hair. She fought the urge to lean into his touch. “What do you need right now, Riles?” It was too much. The look in his eyes, the hand gently cradling her face--he did everything right, and it was all too much, and something inside her snapped. It might’ve been her heart. 

“I need you to stop looking at me like you want me, because we both know you don’t.” 

He recoiled as if she’d slapped him in the face. Clearly she’d hurt him, but she didn’t care. The stolen glances, standing too close, holding doors open for her and only her--stuff they’d done for years--all of it needed to stop. What used to be normal was now a cruel trick. The universe laughed while it played her for a fool. 

She loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone, and he only saw her as a friend, or worse, a sibling. 

Riley stood and walked to the sink to rinse her mouth out, snatching the tiny bottle of mouthwash on the counter. In the mirror, she watched Mac scramble to his feet, barely catching his towel before it slipped. 

“Riles--” 

She spat the mouthwash into the sink, the taste of bile mercifully gone. “For fuck’s sake Mac, put your pants on.” Riley threw the empty mouthwash bottle into the trash with too much force and stormed out of the bathroom. She heard the frantic rustle of fabric as Mac got dressed. He’d be out in seconds. 

She needed to commit to breaking her heart now. Stringing herself along on false hope was destroying her. Her feelings were unrequited, end of story. She was stupid to think them finding themselves alone in a hotel room would turn out the way she wanted it to. She and Mac might act like more than friends, but they were, in fact, just friends with very few boundaries. 

He practically ran out of the bathroom, footsteps muffled by the carpet. “Riley, what is going on?” Mac grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him. 

“Let go of me,” she growled. He released her wrist immediately. It was unfair, she knew, to direct all the anger she felt at herself toward him, but she did it anyway. 

“Is it because I kissed you? I know you said it was okay, but if it wasn’t I need you to tell me, Riles.” He sounded like he was on the verge of panic. 

Maybe it was his tone, or the wild look in his eyes, but something about him in that moment pushed her over the edge, sending her plummeting past the point of no return. 

“No.” Riley couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of her mouth. “It’s because I want you to do it again.” 

*****

I want you to do it again. 

She put it all out there, clear as day. And Mac didn’t register it until it was too late. Until she was scrambling away from him as fast as she could. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. 

Every time he looked at her, Mac couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted her. Wanted to be with her, in every way possible. Her eyes said she was feeling it too. 

Those fucking eyes. Beautiful, but annihilating. A bridge from his soul to hers. 

I want you to do it again. Words he never thought he’d actually hear come out of her mouth. Voice barely above a whisper, he said, “I want to do it again too.” 

Everything stopped as soon as the words left his mouth. His heart. His lungs. The thoughts ricocheting in his brain. Maybe even time itself. All awaiting Riley’s response. 

It felt like an eternity had passed before she answered. “What?” she said softly, unbelieving. 

“I want to kiss you again. And again. And a thousand times after that.” It took every ounce of his self control not to just grab her and kiss her until she forgot her own damn name, but he needed her to come to him. 

Riley inched forward. “Only a thousand?” Teasing. She was teasing. 

“Millions. Trillions. Or, until either you’re sick of me or I die trying.” 

“I could never be sick of you.” She was close enough now that Mac could feel her breath on his lips. 

“Guess I’ll just have to die trying then.” He gripped her hands and squeezed before grazing his fingers along her arms. She gasped. Mac flashed back to earlier, at the auction, when he grazed the exposed skin in the middle of her back. So that’s what it took to make her gasp like that again. With painstaking gentleness, he held her face with both hands. 

“Can I kiss you?” Riley nodded. A nod wasn’t confirmation enough. Not right now. He prompted, “I need you to say the word.” 

“Yes.” 

He leaned in slowly, savoring the precious, electrically-charged moment before their lips met. Her perpetually cold hands gripped his bare waist, and for a few seconds Mac forgot how to breathe. He’d loved Riley for years, but in the last few months the switch finally flipped and he was desperately, undeniably in love with her. She was his best friend, his partner in crime (sometimes literally), his confidant, his ally. She was the ground wire to his circuit. She was Hope when his was lost, Courage when he wavered. She was the person who, above all others, he could trust, and together every challenge could be overcome, every problem could be solved. 

Mac traced her lips with his thumb until he couldn’t resist any longer, tilting her chin up for the kiss. He stared at those soft, greedy lips he’d thought about far too often before moving closer and brushing his nose against hers, as if drawn together by some unseen force. He’d felt that gravitational pull toward her for weeks, and now that pull solidified into an invisible string connecting them. He pulled back a fraction of an inch, just enough to meet those entrancing brown eyes of hers, and the instant he did, Mac knew he would follow her to the end of the earth. 

Slowly, he slid one hand into her hair, thick dark curls tangling between his fingers. Riley leaned into his touch, and he held her gaze and smiled, tucking a curl behind her ear. Finally, for real this time, Mac kissed her, soft and uncertain. She smiled against his mouth, and it wrecked him. Utterly, completely wrecked him. Mac’s whole body ignited. He laced his fingers deeper into her hair as she pulled his body against hers. 

Mac memorized everything about this moment: the feeling of her lips on his, the sweet smell of her perfume, the way her nails just barely dug into his back. There was no lust behind it, not like before, just affection, tenderness, and safety. 

Pure, undiluted love. 

Of course, that was the exact moment Bozer chose to check in on Riley over comms. Mac had never wanted to murder his best friend more than he did in that moment. Somehow, Riley managed to unmute her comms and explain that she was okay and just needed a minute. Mac didn’t know how she did it. Words were utterly foreign to him. 

She muted her comms again. “Now, where were we?” Her eyes glittered. 

Riley curved her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her, their mouths meeting again in a searing clash of lips and tongue and teeth. It was passionate, hungry, desperate. Their bodies wound together, each with a hand in the other’s hair, deepening the kiss and pulling the other impossibly closer. Fireworks flashed on the backs of Mac’s eyelids, and lightning coursed through his veins, but at the same time, kissing Riley was relaxing and reassuring, like being wrapped up in her was the safest place in the world. 

The kiss lasted forever and ended too soon. 

Riley pulled away first. Mac gripped her waist to stop her and pull her in for another kiss but paused when he beheld the searching look in her eyes. Her eyes flitted about, and her expression was a mix of delight and confusion edged in hunger. 

For a brief second, he entertained the thought of that hungry part of her coming out to play. Dude, slow down, the little part of his brain still capable of logic chastised. He focused, waiting for her to say the words she was trying to form. 

"We should go before Bozer starts asking too many questions," she finally said. Well that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.  

"Bozer needs to stop being such a helicopter parent." 

Riley snorted. "Then he wouldn't be Bozer, would he." Fair enough. She gave him a playful shove. "Put the rest of your clothes on so we can go." 

He wanted to talk about the kiss. He wanted to talk about what the kiss meant, but Mac got the impression that Riley wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet. 

Mac retreated into the bathroom to finish getting dressed. He glanced back at Riley, only to find her already staring. Their eyes met, and she looked away. 

Clothes back on, he crossed the suite to where Riley stood gazing out a window, having finally given up shamelessly ogling his body. Reaching for her hand, Mac followed her line of sight to the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean in the distance. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded once and smiled, letting him lead her out of the suite. 

Without letting go of her hand, Mac opened the door for Riley, and found himself face to face with two well-groomed men in nice suits, each pointing a gun at Riley’s chest. 

“Whoa there! I think you guys have the wrong room,” Mac said, squeezing himself beside Riley. One of the guns now pointed at his chest. 

The man on the right sneered at Riley. “Oh, I think we’ve got the right one. Isn’t that right, Danika?” He stepped closer, pressing the gun underneath her chin. “Or should I call you Riley?” 

Beside him, Riley paled. Well, shit. 

*****

Desi was out of the room before Bozer could even blink. He scrambled after her, catching the door before it slammed behind her. 

Bozer stepped into the hallway just in time to watch Desi bash Petrov’s men’s heads together, sending them tumbling onto the floor. They never saw her coming. She stood over their unconscious bodies with a triumphant smile on her face. Death incarnate dressed up like a Barbie doll, Bozer thought.  

Mac and Riley stood frozen for a second, mouths gaping, before Riley’s lips curled into a wicked grin and she snarked, “Damn, I should give you a raise.” 

Wordlessly, Desi strode down the hall and pressed the elevator button. 

“Where are you going?” Bozer asked. 

Desi grabbed the closest man by his ankles and dragged him to the elevator. “Sending the dogs back to their master.” 

The elevator arrived--empty, luckily--and Desi dragged the man inside. Mac and Riley lugged the other one in behind her. Desi pressed the buttons for every floor and stepped back out, waving at the bodies as the doors slid shut. 

“So who’s going to tell Matty?” Riley asked. Unsurprisingly, no one volunteered. 

“Loser makes the call.” Bozer held out a fist. 

The problem with settling matters via “Rock Paper Scissors” was that the game had nearly the same outcome every time. As usual, Mac lost, but only because everyone else cheated. Mac always played “rock” on the first round, so the rest of the team played “paper,” and Mac was declared the supreme loser. It only got messy when someone played “scissors” just to fuck shit up. That someone was usually Desi. 

In their hotel suite, Mac looked like he wanted to die on the spot while Matty chewed him out for using Riley’s real name while they were undercover. He’d confessed that after the meeting with Petrov, he and Riley had a not-quiet argument that Petrov or his men must’ve overheard somehow. 

Mac and Riley didn’t seem to be upset with each other now, so Bozer wondered what they fought about. Riley even gave Mac a quick shoulder squeeze and a grim, knowing look that set off warning bells in Bozer’s brain that something changed between them. 

After further deliberation, Bozer realized that he’d never known his friends to raise their voices at each other and fight. He’d witnessed many full-blown screaming matches between Mac and Desi, but never with Riley. 

Bozer didn’t know what to make of that. 

Desi and Riley changed into pajamas (bless fake-vacation ops) while Mac was on the phone and decided to check the other room for bugs, in case Petrov somehow managed to plant one while he was in there. Now alone with Mac, Bozer decided to do a little investigating of his own. 

He didn’t waste any time beating around the bush. “So, what’s going on with you and Riley?” Bozer knew Riley had feelings, and he was pretty sure Mac did too, although he didn’t have explicit confirmation. 

“What do you mean?” 

Bozer decided to play dumb. “You two have been acting weird ever since we got here, and now you got into a fight that led to your covers being blown? Something’s up.” 

Mac shot him an exasperated look. “Dude, I know you know more than you’re letting on. Out with it.” 

“My information is not mine to tell.” He paused. “What happened in the other room, Mac?” 

“I kissed her,” Mac confessed with a sigh. 

“And?” 

“And she kissed me back.” 

Bozer was excited for them--he really was--but he was also worried. Mac still hadn’t fully dealt with everything that transpired in the last year, and Bozer worried he’d keep using a relationship to hide from it. And if he did that, then Mac may very well do to Riley what he did to Desi. 

And if Mac and Riley ever ended things badly...Bozer would have a front row seat watching two high-speed trains derailing, and there would be little he could do about the near catastrophic destruction. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Bozer asked gently. 

Mac looked taken aback. “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s everything I want.” 

“Mac, I just think you should take a little more time for yourself before diving into another relationship.” 

Frowning, he argued, “Why? If you think part of me is still hung-up on Desi, you are clearly mistaken.” Well, fuck. This was going to suck. 

“That’s not what I meant.” Mac narrowed his eyes, waiting. “Can you honestly tell me that you’ve fully dealt with everything that happened with Codex and your dad?” 

Mac opened his mouth to defend himself, but nothing came out. 

“What I’m saying is that I think you need to take more time to get your shit together before going all in with Riley. Otherwise, you’re risking letting that kind of stuff get in between you.” And drive you apart, like it did with you and Desi, Bozer refrained from adding. “You need to deal with it, but you don’t have to do it alone. You have me, and you have Riley. And I know there are some things that I will never understand, like stuff with your dad, but she does.” He took a deep breath. “Let someone in, Mac. Let her in. The allure of banging her brains out is strong, I know, but you’ve got to build that solid foundation first.” Bozer grinned. ”And make it out of real, reinforced concrete, not the ruined, crumbly stuff we made as a prank in eighth grade.” 

Mac chuckled. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern, Boze, but I’m fine, really.” Bozer didn’t believe him for a second. “Besides, I can’t do that to Riley. I can’t turn around and rip it away from her like that.” No, that conversation would not be pretty. 

“At the end of the day, it’s your choice. I just don’t want you to have any regrets.” 

Mac pulled him in for a hug. “I know,” he said. Quieter, he added, “Believe me, I know.” 

*****

It was a little after two am, and all Riley wanted to do was sleep. The auction felt so long ago, yet it had only been seven eventful hours ago. 

She let Desi explain that they’d found a bug in the other room, on the underside of the door handle. Petrov must’ve placed it when he let himself out. Riley cursed herself for being too caught up in Mac to consider a small detail like that. 

“Well, we’ll deal with it in the morning,” Mac said, looking just as guilty as she felt. “We all need sleep.” Riley nodded in agreement. She glanced at Mac, then Bozer, then Desi, then back to Mac again, knowing the others were doing the same. It was the first step in their “who’s sleeping where” routine. 

Riley didn’t have enough energy to battle for a good spot to sleep, so she pulled rank instead. “My op, my bed,” she announced. Without waiting for a response, she unceremoniously plopped on top of the fluffy duvet and closed her eyes. 

After a few minutes of squabbling that Riley didn’t bother paying attention to, someone slid into bed beside her. She cracked her eyes open just enough to see Desi rearranging the pillows. 

One of the boys turned the lights off, forcing Riley to finally crawl under the covers. She curled up on her side with her back to Desi. 

Sleep beckoned, but her brain was still buzzing too loudly to slip into blissful unconsciousness. Riley tried to turn it off, focusing on her breathing instead. With each exhale, she felt herself sink into the mattress, one body part at a time--first her feet, then calves, thighs, hips, torso, arms, shoulders, neck, head. She took one last deep breath and felt her whole body relax, becoming one with the bed. Her brain quieted at last. 

Across the bed, Desi whispered, “Are you okay?” 

Truthfully, Riley had no idea. She’d had such a rollercoaster of a night that she barely knew which way was up anymore. On the bright side, things seemed to be working out with Mac. But, at the same time, the consequences of being with Mac--Desi getting kidnapped, Mac accidentally blowing her cover--nagged at her. 

“I will be.” A true but vague answer. 

“For what it’s worth,” Desi said, “I saw you under the mask. Kind, brave, wickedly smart you. I know you scared the shit out of yourself, just as much as you scared Petrov, but you didn’t scare me. You were more in control than you think. And besides, I wouldn’t have let you cross a line you couldn’t uncross.” 

Riley didn’t have words to respond, so she just reached across the mattress and found Desi’s outstretched hand. The woman slept like a starfish, taking up way more than her half of the bed. Riley squeezed her hand, and after a second, Desi squeezed back. 

Her last thought before drifting off was that maybe she and Desi could be friends after all.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (6)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3. 

*****

Mac fidgeted with the T.V. remote. Riley hadn’t returned yet. Bozer and Matty busied themselves with digging up intel on Petrov, and Desi sprawled across the couch. 

Which left Mac with nothing to do but think. 

Riley would be back any minute now, and Mac had no idea what to say to her. They needed to talk about the kiss. Dropping a “you’re my best friend and favorite coworker, but surprise, I’m in love with you” bomb on her in the middle of a mission seemed like a stupid idea, but ignoring what happened would make it even more awkward than it already was. Fuck. 

Mac snapped his head toward the door as the lock clicked. Riley slipped inside, opening the door just wide enough to squeeze through. Her hair was a windswept, tangled mess, but other than that, she appeared to be fine. Tension eased in his chest that Mac hadn’t realized was there before. 

She still wore his jacket. 

Riley went right to his side, although she remained a respectful distance away instead of standing shoulder-to-shoulder like usual. She looked almost...shy. Mac could see the hesitation in her eyes. He really fucked up. Now she wouldn’t even come near him. 

“Miss much?” she asked. 

“Nobody’s planning on killing us, yet.” 

“First time this week,” she retorted. Mac chuckled, earning a glare from Desi. 

Slowly, Mac closed the space between himself and Riley, so they could talk without being overheard. He gave her the opportunity to back away, but, to his surprise, she didn’t. “We need to talk,” he whispered. Riley paled. Shit, that was not the reaction he wanted. Not even close. 

“Mac, I...I understand.” Her eyes said it all. She looked disappointed. Embarrassed. Hurt. No no no no no no. Whatever she thought she understood, it was a far cry from what he was about to say. Did she really not know how he felt? He wanted to touch her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and show her all the things she didn’t understand. He wanted to tell her that his heart belonged to her, and he was committed to her for the long haul, although that may not be as long as they’d like since they both had a penchant for getting shot at. And then, after all that, he wanted to back her into a wall and tell her how sexy she looked in his jacket and learn exactly how to elicit those little noises again. 

He needed to stop thinking those things about her. Riley could read him like a book. 

Yet, she’d utterly failed to see what was right in front of her face. Maybe...maybe she misunderstood because he’d hid it so well. Too well, if the brokenness in her eyes was any indication. 

“Riles, no--” 

She shook her head. “Don’t ‘Riles’ me right now.” 

“Got him,” Bozer announced, leaving Mac with his jaw hung open. His unsaid words evaporated off his tongue. 

“Viktor Petrov,” Bozer read off the screen, “thirty four year old Bulgarian mob boss and rare art connoisseur.”

Riley moved to stand behind Bozer, reading over his shoulder. Mac studied her--feet shoulder-width apart, hands behind her back. He liked to think of it as her war-room stance. The woman could save the world while standing like that. “He’s on several intelligence agencies’ watch lists,” Riley said. “Looks like he’s never been arrested, but Petrov is a power player in the Eastern European black market.” 

Raising his eyebrows, Mac slid his gaze to Desi. “You sure do know how to pick ‘em.” 

“Don’t forget, I picked you too,” she shot back. Ouch. He probably deserved that. Bozer suddenly found the computer screen extra fascinating. 

“In her defense,” Riley said, “he is really hot.” The two women shared a conspiratorial glance. If they ever really became friends, all hell would break loose.  

Matty broke the ensuing awkward tension. “Get this. He’s part of a collective of shady powerful individuals that uses black market items, real or fake, to keep tabs on all the major power players of the world--major corporations, terrorist cells, and--wait for it--intelligence agencies.” 

“Like the CIA,” Riley muttered. 

“Exactly. Someone in the group puts an item on the market just to see who comes running,” Matty explained. 

“So he thought he was pulling a fast one on a wealthy American, but…” Bozer trailed off. 

Mac delivered the final blow. “We were made the moment he saw Desi.” 

*****

This mission seemed to be one cursed piece of bad news after the next, Bozer thought. 

Petrov was going to out them as spies to the whole European criminal underworld, thus preventing them from ever doing field work again on the whole continent. They’d never be safe with Petrov’s bounty on their heads. 

If that wasn’t enough trouble, there was something weird going on with Mac and Riley. Post-Codex, Mac almost exclusively called her “Riles.” But, ever since their weird little whisper session, Mac abandoned the nickname. Bozer had no idea why. 

As if it were trying to spite him, the computer made an error noise. Bozer sarcastically imitated the sound. He didn’t feel any better. 

*****

Desi hated playing bait. She’d much rather be the one waiting in the shadows, swooping in just in the nick of time to save whoever got stuck as bait. But, noooooooo. Here she was, leaning against a wall, trying to look bored and sexy at the same time. 

It had been Bozer’s idea to have her wear the last of Riley’s dresses. This one was a skimpy, silver-sequined dress that latched onto her body like a leech. The neckline plunged below her breasts, and if it was any shorter, it’d be a shirt. It fit her well enough, except for the top. Riley’s boobs were bigger than hers, and it had taken some creative safety-pinning on Riley’s part to make the dress fit. 

To top it all off, there wasn’t a chance in hell she could hide a gun under that thing. 

“Sitting around waiting to get kidnapped, again. Best. Day. Ever.” Desi didn’t shy from making quips over comms while she waited. No one indulged her. 

Petrov’s steady, confident footsteps were her only warning before he rounded the corner. He spotted her instantly, eyes glimmering like he was starving and she was a cheeseburger on a sparkling silver platter. 

“I should’ve known better than to leave you unsupervised.” His voice was a promise of a thousand mistakes to be made. “Hello, darling. Miss me?” 

“I did until you drugged me and tied me up.” 

“I seem to recall you like being tied up.” 

She smiled but laced her words with venom. “Not that kind. Besides, I’d much rather tie you up instead.” Desi practically heard the words behind his smirk. Whatever you say, darling. 

She fought back memories bubbling to the surface as he dragged his gaze up and down her body. “That is quite the dress.” She snorted. He knew her well enough to know she would never wear a dress this ridiculous of her own free will. “I see you’ve gotten more tattoos since we last...met,” he said, innuendo dripping off the last word. His eyes traced the new designs on her arms and thighs before turning inquisitive, as if imagining what new tattoos there were in places he couldn’t see. She thought about making a snarky comment but decided against it. 

Viktor finally met her eyes again, and Desi remembered what drew her to him in the first place. His striking blue eyes were nothing like Mac’s. While Mac’s were bright and curious, Viktor’s were dark, intense, and captivating. In another time and place, she could’ve lost herself counting the green flecks in them. 

“Who are you waiting for?” he asked, likely knowing the answer already. “I assume you didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.” 

“You, actually.” 

“Is that so?” He definitely knew. 

“Yes. I’m waiting for you to give me an apology.” 

He stepped closer. “The verbal kind? Or the other kind?” 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Desi asked dryly. She had no intention of ever getting in bed with him again, but damn he was distracting. 

 “Why? Are you seducible?” Viktor grazed his fingers up her arms, sending a shiver down her spine. He growled, “What kind of apology do you want, Desiree?” 

Desi put on a show of thinking through her options. “Both.” 

“Greedy. Your room or mine?” 

“Mine.” She had him now. Desi pushed off the wall and looped her pinky finger around his. He dutifully walked behind her, like a dog called to heel. She led him to the elevator and the trap waiting above. Okay, Riley, she thought. Your turn. 

Desi stopped at the room next door to the suite the team was using as home base and made sure Viktor was paying close attention as she slid the room key from her bra. His eyes glazed a bit, still a sucker for little things like that. Desi opened the door and waved him through. “After you.” She gave him a wicked smile, the first genuine one of their encounter. 

Not suspecting a thing--What an idiot, Desi thought--Viktor Petrov strolled into the room and found himself face to face with a scarily cold and calculating Riley, who, as far as he knew, was American businesswoman and heiress Danika Jackson. He quickly hid his surprise beneath a mask of neutrality. Lounging in a chair, Riley looked infinitely, gloriously bored. 

“I see you’ve met my bodyguard,” Riley said cooly. 

Viktor didn’t miss a beat. “Bodyguard, you say? Seems like a boring job for someone of your--” he glanced at Desi “--background.” Desi kept her face blank. He was Riley’s problem now. 

Riley began, “Mr. Petrov, as a successful businessman, I’m sure you already know that eventually, people like us outgrow the people around us. So, we must continually surround ourselves with the very best.” Riley looked him dead in the eye, cold and unfeeling. “There’s no point in carrying dead weight to the top.” She gestured to Desi. “She is far from dead weight. Besides, the private sector pays better.” Viktor didn’t notice, but Desi saw how Riley pressed her heels firmer into the floor, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. The little movement was the only sign of the Riley she knew beneath the icy exterior. 

Viktor looked a little uneasy, but he definitely wasn’t scared of the woman before him. But, by the time Riley was done with him, he would be. Riley’s eyes ignited, recognizing the challenge. 

“Now, about your little locket chip scam.” 

*****

Mac and Bozer didn’t know where this cold, calculating, and slightly insane Riley came from. They rarely got glimpses of the business side to Artemis37, but here she was, in the flesh. Mac watched the scene unfold on the computer screen, equally in awe and terrified of her. 

A woman to be feared. 

She made Matty the Hun look like a kitten. If she could see this, Matty would be proud of her. 

There was no sign of their Riley behind that cold stare. Her fingers drummed the arm of her chair. To his credit, Petrov didn’t cower. In fact, he was starting to look a little too comfortable, which was about to be a problem. 

Perhaps he needed a...demonstration. Something to make him squirm a little. 

Mac’s idea was a terrible one, and Riley would probably shoot him for it later, but it was still an idea, and Mac was pretty sure it would work. Even if he damned himself in the process. 

He just hoped she’d sincerely meant it when she said the surprise closet kiss was okay. 

“Stay here,” he said, walking to the door. 

Bozer made a face. “Okay?” Mac didn’t say anything else as the door clicked behind him. 

If Petrov was half as smart as Desi made him out to be, then he’d be monitoring footsteps in the hallway. He’d immediately know it was a set-up if Mac walked straight next door to the room Riley and Desi had Petrov cornered in. Mac forced himself to walk past the room--past Riley--to the stairwell on the opposite end of the hall, taking his time descending to three floors below. He could hear Riley’s half of the conversation over comms, but Petrov wasn’t close enough to either woman for their comms to pick up his voice. 

Mac fixated on the cold arrogance in Riley’s tone as he strode for the elevator. There wasn’t a shred of the woman he’d come to know and love in it, like she’d turned her emotions off as easily as flicking a light switch. He shivered. 

The elevator took its sweet time arriving, and in the meantime, Riley had some choice words about Pierre. The doors opened, revealing a middle-aged couple already inside. They scowled when they noticed he pressed the button for just three floors above. Mac flashed them an innocent smile. 

Mac stepped out of the elevator onto his floor, bracing himself for what he was about to do. He took heavier steps than normal, ensuring Petrov wouldn’t recognize the same pattern from before. Riley confided, once, that as a kid she would learn the pattern of people’s footsteps so she was never caught unaware. By footsteps alone, she knew who was walking down the hall--her mom, Elwood, even Jack. The variations in their gaits, she’d said, said a lot about their current state. For example, her dad’s steps normally were unhurried, but when Elwood’s walk turned heavy and prowling, it was her first warning to find somewhere to hide. And cover her ears. 

Mac’s heart snapped when Riley confessed she still did it, mostly out of habit. He swore right then and there that his kids--and hers, for that matter--would never need to learn that skill, for any reason. 

Mac swiped his key card and walked right in, ignoring Desi standing by the door in her disco ball dress. Petrov stood in the middle of the room, a healthy distance away from both women, with his hands in his pockets. He had the casual posture of a man who was used to being the most powerful person in a room. The man exuded wealth, from his perfectly tailored suit to his immaculate leather shoes. 

And then Mac saw Riley. 

The video feed he’d been watching didn’t do her justice. She lounged in an antique chair like it was her throne, the hotel suite her court. Her navy blue gown pooled at her feet, and her black acrylic nails gave the illusion of claws or talons drumming the armrests, not human fingers. 

Mac dragged his gaze higher. 

Her hair tumbled down her bare shoulders, no longer wild and windswept. No, this Riley was a far cry from the woman who’d cackled while speeding down foreign streets in a stolen Lamborghini convertible. This Riley was polished, cold, and looked like she was debating skinning Petrov alive. 

Her dark eyes, usually so full of laughter and compassion, held the vast, black emptiness of the space between stars. They were black holes, consuming everything in their path. 

She was otherworldly, predatory, and very, very sexy. 

Mac started to banish the thought from his brain, but he reconsidered. He was here to play the role of scandalous boyfriend, after all. 

He let every more-than-friendly thought he’d ever had about Riley turn his expression ravenous. Musings and memories of her flashed in his mind. The way her laugh warmed him from the inside out. The way she sat too close and furrowed her brow while she thoroughly beat him at any and every video game. The way her ass looked in one of the bazillion pairs of skin-tight jeans she owned. 

He didn’t care if she saw the truth in his eyes. Didn’t care if she read his feelings like a book. 

Some part of him wanted her to see the truth of it all, glimmering just underneath the fake-boyfriend façade. 

Mac wanted her to see how he never wanted to be with anyone else when shit hit the fan. How their middle-of-the-night fridge meetings were the only thing holding him together sometimes. How he was brimming with pride every time she improvised, whether in the field or at home. How one of her smiles made all coherent thoughts vanish from his head. How he’d wanted to ravish her the moment she dragged him into that damn closet. How--

Petrov cleared his throat. 

Mac blinked slowly and slid his gaze to the mob boss, feigning surprise. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had company. My apologies.” Riley’s eyes glittered like she knew just how not-sorry Mac was. 

He changed his mind. They weren’t just pools of darkness between stars. Those eyes contained the whole fucking universe. Black holes, galaxies, supernovas, and everything in between. 

He stalked toward her, trying to convey his plan with just his eyes. For a brief second, understanding flashed in her eyes before a cruel smile curled her lips--practically the first time all night they were on the same page. Mac revealed his relief for only a split second. He mouthed, Can I kiss you? Riley tilted her jaw, baring her neck to him. She didn’t need to utter a single word for him to understand. Make Petrov squirm, but don’t ruin my lipstick this time. 

It killed Mac to do this to her twice, but he didn’t have a better plan. He hadn’t touched her at all since the closet, as if that would ever make up for what he did. Now here he was, silently begging her to re-enact the closet scene. He didn’t know what that made him. A douchebag, most likely. 

Playing like this was like dangling their real feelings over a blazing inferno, hoping they didn’t do any irreversible damage. At least this time, Mac had Riley’s consent. If she said no, he would’ve found some other way to get under Petrov’s skin. 

Bracing his hands on Riley’s forearms, Mac pressed featherlight kisses to her neck. His thumb brushed a thin scar he didn’t know she had. Lingering traces of her perfume filled his nose, his lungs. He trailed his lips across her skin, searching for her pulse. Upon finding it, he pressed his lips firmly against her neck, reveling in the sensation of her blood roaring beneath his mouth. 

His blood roared alongside hers. This is just a game, he reminded himself. A power play to disarm Petrov. He nipped her skin, then soothed the small hurt with his tongue. Her breath hitched. Mac’s self-control hung by a thread. Riley was intoxicating, and getting drunk on her and losing his head would only land them in even more trouble. 

He pulled back. “I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to join me when you’re done here.” Mac winked. 

“If you want me against a wall, Damon, I’d much rather it be somewhere you can fuck me hard enough to make the paintings fall off.” 

Riley wore a mask of quiet, glittering amusement, but it was all Mac could do not to combust on the spot. He couldn’t believe she said that. He’d started this little game, and she always played to win, but...shit. 

This woman was going to bring him to his fucking knees. 

With as much bravado as he could muster, he replied, “We can do both.” Mac pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand before walking into the bathroom, closing the door, and taking the coldest shower of his life. 

*****

Petrov squirmed like a worm on a hook while he was forced to watch her and Mac’s little show. The way Mac had practically fucked her with his eyes made Riley want to squirm too. But, like, good squirming. Maybe even the kind that ended with her head thrown back and sheets clenched between her fingers. 

But, Danika Jackson didn’t squirm. Her heart didn’t feel like it was about to explode. She didn’t have to memorize every press of her man’s lips against her neck, because for her, this moment was real and would happen again. She needed to be Danika, who was calm and cunning, not Riley, whose heart was breaking, because this was just a game, and Mac meant none of it. 

That quick kiss on her hand nearly undid her. Petrov, thankfully, had been too busy staring at the floor to catch the cracks in her façade. She focused back on Petrov, pretending her heart wasn’t pounding and her brain wasn’t short circuiting. 

Riley stared at him, putting on a show of contemplating throwing him out right then and there so she could join Mac in the shower. It wasn’t hard. She was definitely thinking about it. 

Finally, she got back to the matter at hand. “As I was saying, I don’t appreciate you kidnapping my employee or trying to pull a fast one on someone clearly smarter than you.” She paused. “Why.” It was a command, not a question. 

Petrov glanced at Desi. “What has she told you about me?” He almost sounded nervous. A bit of Riley’s terror eased, but only a bit. You’ve got this, she reminded herself. 

“Everything. I know about the career that makes you happy, the career that pays the bills, and I know about your little black market spy collective, although I was surprised to learn your products aren’t as high quality as advertised.” Riley sneered. This was a gamble, she knew, showing her hand like this. She really hoped it paid off. 

Petrov snapped his head to Desi, looking vaguely horrified. “You knew about that?” Desi gave him a not-so-innocent shrug. 

Before he could say anything else, Riley continued. “Why is your collective watching me and my company, Mr. Petrov?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, clearly debating something in his head. “I wasn’t actually watching you at all,” he conceded. “I believe there is a mole in my operation, a spy.” 

Riley arched an eyebrow. “Interesting.” Behind him, Desi narrowed her eyes. 

“I made sure knowledge of the sale fell on select ears and waited to see which agency made an appearance. And sure enough, none other than my favorite spy shows up.” He smirked at Desi. 

“Ex-spy,” Riley corrected. “Although, I have been known to use her skills when I need information, or something done under the radar, if you catch my drift.” She knew what he was doing. Petrov made a calculated risk in revealing his potential mole problem. One slip-up on her part and he could easily connect the dots between his CIA mole and them. The best she could do now was convince him that she--and Desi--were just as shady and well-connected as him. “I assume you are responsible for the building being on lockdown?” 

“Can’t have my customers running away without paying, now can I?” She’d caught him off guard before, but he was back on his game now. Dammit. 

“Here’s the deal. You will call off your dogs and let us and everyone else leave the hotel, and in exchange I will return your locket and won’t expose you as a fraud.” He scoffed. “I am a woman of my word, Mr. Petrov.” 

“And if I don’t agree?” 

Her response was out of her mouth before Riley even knew what she was saying. “Then I will use my recording of this conversation to clone your voice and command your men to stand down myself before throwing your useless body out the window and taking bets on which direction your blood will spray when you splatter on the pavement.” Riley stared him down, swallowing her horror at her gruesome threat. She was pretty sure she was going to puke the second he was out of the room. 

“Very well,” he agreed, taken aback. Petrov cast a nervous glance in Desi’s direction. There was no pity in her smoldering eyes. None. 

Riley pulled the locket out of her bra and dangled it from her hand, waiting. Petrov took the hint and quickly made a phone call. “I have the locket. Stand down.” Satisfied, Riley handed him the locket in dismissal. 

She wasn’t going to say anything more, but the entitled way he raked his gaze up Desi’s body on his way out the door had Riley opening her mouth one more time, just to piss him off. “Good luck with your mole problem, Viktor.” 

The door shut, and seconds later a nod from Desi confirmed he’d walked down the hall and was out of earshot. 

Walking in on Mac be damned, Riley sprinted into the bathroom and hurled her guts into the toilet. 

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (4)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3.

*****

The ballroom was crowded with beautiful women, but Mac only had eyes for one in particular. 

Riley flitted about the room with him in tow, making small talk with strangers at random. Stumbling upon a group of men who all seemed to be software engineers of some sort, Riley joined their discussion, challenging their ideas with “I’ve found it more effective when…” and what-if questions. Mac stood back and admired her, not understanding a word any of them said. He could tell these men were smart, but she was smarter. Her brain worked faster than anyone else’s he knew. Watching her mind at work was hot. Like, really hot. 

She turned around and flashed a wide, bright smile at him, and all he could think was, Oh shit. It was the one that she reserved only for him, Mac noted with no small amount of primal satisfaction. 

“Damon, honey.” She wiggled her index finger at him. “Come here.” Snapping himself out of his daze, he complied. Riley introduced him, “This is my boyfriend, Damon.” 

“Damon Townsend. Genius, philanthropist, playboy, millionaire…” He shook each man’s hand in turn, ignoring Riley’s side-eye. “But, who am I kidding? Danika’s the impressive one.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. 

She beamed, dark eyes locking with his. Those damn eyes fucked him over every time. So dark they blended in with her pupils half the time, yet warm and soft, they were so easy to get lost in, like drowning in a sea of midnight waves. Drowning was not a pleasant way to go, but Mac was more than willing to drown in her. 

His favorite thing about her eyes was that they betrayed her every emotion. No matter how well she hid it in the rest of her face and body language, her eyes always told the truth. 

And with the way she was looking at him… It was getting harder to pretend everything was fine. To pretend he wasn’t in love with her. Mac caught himself leaning forward a fraction, as if he were going to kiss her. He pulled back. What the hell was he thinking? 

Mac could’ve sworn she’d leaned in too, but he chalked it up to his overeager imagination. 

Not breaking eye contact, she said, “I’m hungry. Let’s find something to eat.” Mac nodded. Riley turned to the men, who were starting to look uncomfortable. “It was nice meeting you all.” 

She led him toward the hors d'oeuvres table. “I didn’t realize I was dating Tony Stark,” Riley said, her voice low. Mac chuckled. 

He popped a bacon-wrapped date in his mouth. They were one of his favorite appetizers, salty and sweet at the same time. Riley ate one too. 

Desi flagged them over to her hiding place in the corner, and Mac grabbed a date for the road. 

“Meet anyone interesting?” she asked. 

Riley shook her head. “No, they all seem clean.” Trying to sniff out the seller at the auction was a long shot, but it was the best they could do until the facial recognition Bozer was running on the security footage from the pool found a match. 

“We’ll take another lap,” Mac said. Resting a hand on the small of Riley’s back, he led her through the crowd. His thumb brushed her bare skin, exposed by a cutout in the back of her elegant navy gown. Riley gasped on contact. It took every ounce of willpower to stop himself from sliding his hand up to learn exactly what would cause her to gasp like that again. 

He and Riley neared the front of the ballroom, having nearly completed their lap. There were fewer people at this end.

In his peripheral vision, a guard pointed directly at him. “Damn,” he muttered. 

“Mac, what is it?” 

He nodded toward the guard making a beeline for them. Mac observed his surroundings, knowing Riley was doing the same. There was nowhere to hide, and with all the exits sealed, there was literally nowhere to run. They were out of options, and the guard was now mere feet away. 

His plan was stupid, in so many ways. But, it was the best he had. 

“I’m so sorry, Riles.” 

He didn’t wait for her response before gripping her waist and pushing her up against the nearest wall, next to a coat closet. His lips crashed into hers, every bit the fiery public makeout their covers supposedly indulged in. She hesitated for only a second before closing her eyes and kissing him back. 

Their kiss was everything he’d ever hoped for. 

Well, except the fact that they were Danika and Damon, not Macgyver and Riley. 

She gripped the back of his neck and pulled him closer. How could she commit to putting her hands in just one place? Because she doesn’t have feelings for you, idiot. He ran his hands along her sides, her hips, her back, never staying in one place longer than a few seconds. Trying to memorize the feel of holding her, touching her, kissing her because he knew he’d probably never get this chance again. 

No wonder Bozer had once said he refused to die before he could kiss her. Mac felt like his bones were on fire and the world stopped spinning and time slowed down just for them.  

If someone pulled him away and asked him what two plus two was, he would’ve said her name in answer. 

Riley swiped her tongue along his lower lip, and Mac almost combusted on the spot. She’s just playing. She’s just playing. She’s just--

A soft moan escaped her lips. 

Fuck. 

He never wanted to kiss anyone else again. One kiss from her ruined everyone else. 

She dropped her hands to his shoulders as the approaching guard quickly found somewhere else to be. Crisis averted. Mac’s own hands finally stilled--one on her waist and the other tangled in her hair. Their kisses became languid, yet deliberate. Exploratory. God, she’s a good kisser, he thought. His heart pounded so loudly Mac was sure Riley could hear it. 

He needed to end this before he did something he regretted. Mac trailed chaste kisses along her jaw to her ear. “Closet,” he growled. 

“Uh-huh.” She slammed her hand into the doorknob, flung the door open, and dragged him inside by his tie, their lips colliding once more.

*****

Bozer sat in front of the computer, monitoring the auction and wishing Desi would smuggle him some hors d'oeuvres. 

So far, no luck, even though it would’ve been oh so easy to wrap something up in a napkin and slip it in a pocket unseen, since every pair of eyes was trained on Mac and Riley stumbling into a coat closet. 

Bozer took one look at Mac’s tie in Riley’s fist and knew his best friend was a goner. 

The pixelated camera feed did nothing to hide the horrified expression on the incoming security guard’s face. At least he knew better than to interrupt that. The guard veered to the left and suddenly found the floor very interesting. 

Bozer was about to give Mac and Riley the all-clear when Riley’s hand appeared pressed into the frosted glass of the coat closet door. It reminded him of the iconic hand scene in Titanic. 

Bozer cringed but mumbled, “Damn.” In the corner of the screen, Desi subtly pulled out her phone. 

His phone buzzed. Well that was fast, her text read. Bozer figured that was as positive of a response as they were going to get from her. He started to text her back, but was interrupted when Riley’s laptop made a pinging noise. 

Facial recognition found a match.

*****

They were still kissing after Riley pulled the closet door shut and locked it behind them. Every pair of eyes in the room had been on them as they shamelessly made out against the wall before stumbling into the closet like lovesick idiots. Don’t kid yourself, Riley. You are a lovesick idiot. All the outside world could see now was two faint silhouettes through the door’s frosted window. 

Still holding his tie, Riley tugged Mac closer. Now that she had him, she couldn’t get enough of him. Her whole body curved into his, and he braced her neck while his mouth slanted over hers, teeth tugging at her lower lip. 

Kissing Mac felt like a thousand stars exploding in her chest all at once. 

Even though it would never be reality, Riley let herself fantasize about the op ending with the two of them alone in a hotel room. Her toes curled in her stilettos. She needed to stop, but she couldn’t. She wanted to eat him alive. 

Riley murmured his name against his lips, and Mac’s hands curved around her ass like he was going to lift her up. She traced the outline of his lips with her tongue, teasing him while she waited for that little squeeze, signaling her to jump and wrap her legs around him. 

What started as just a diversion morphed into something much, much more, and the last threads of her frayed restraint finally snapped. Louder this time, she said his name again, her voice low and sultry. 

Mac suddenly ripped himself away. 

His absence hit her like a brick. A whole fucking truckload of bricks. Riley stumbled backward, steadying herself with a hand on the window. Her eyes refused to open for a few moments. Her lungs stopped working. A thousand questions burned on her tongue, but she ignored them all, too busy engraving the moment into her memory. 

It was just an act, she reminded herself, but his lips were so soft and warm and damn he tasted good. He pulled away. He didn’t mean it. They probably only kept kissing for ten, fifteen seconds, tops, but it felt like an eternity passed in those precious few seconds. 

In all the times they’d gone undercover as a couple, they’d never kissed before. If he’d kissed her like that on an op, she would’ve realized her feelings long ago. 

She finally dared look at him. He wore that dazed expression he got when he was deep in his own head. What if…no. 

Get it together, Riley. She couldn’t. 

It meant nothing. It was everything. 

He’s just doing his job. He could’ve found another way to escape. He’s MacGyver. 

The voices in her head needed to shut the fuck up. Their little retorts were not helping. 

“I’m sorry, Riles.” His voice was hoarse. 

His apology snapped Riley out of her head and into reality. Mac looked almost...broken. Not the same broken as after his dad died, but broken nonetheless. Her heart sank in her chest. 

“Mac, it’s okay,” she reassured him, voice equally hoarse. 

“No, it’s not. I should’ve found another way. At least I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry. I panicked.” He was spiraling. 

“Mac,” she said firmly. “Look at me.” He did. “It’s okay. I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“As long as you’re sure.” He still looked guilty. 

Riley took a deep breath and removed her hand from the door. “So, now that the whole world thinks we’re having a quickie in a closet...what do we do now?” It was a feeble attempt to regain some normalcy. 

A smile tugged at Mac’s lips. Riley noticed they had a reddish tint from her lipstick. “I have no idea.” 

She tried to come up with a bad joke about improvising but was interrupted by Bozer’s voice in her ear. 

“Sorry to interrupt the party, guys, but facial rec found a match for the seller in the Interpol database. His name is Raymond Pierre.” Bozer said his name with a terrible French accent. “Interpol doesn’t have much on him, other than that he’s French and has a couple charges of identity theft.” 

“So he’s a con man?” Riley prompted. 

“More than likely,” Bozer confirmed. “Can you--”

“Do my thing and find him? Yeah, we’ll be right there.” 

Mac muted his comms and motioned for her to do the same. She did, raising her eyebrows to silently ask, Are you okay? 

His arm twitched, as if he was going to reach for her and thought better of it. Feelings be damned, she took his hand in hers and squeezed. 

Holding hands with Mac didn’t create sparks or stir butterflies. Their intertwined fingers just felt natural. Safe. Reassuring. Like a silent I got you. 

He squeezed back. “Can we stay in here for a minute?” His voice wavered. 

Riley nodded, the pained expression in his eyes sending her spiraling once again. Oh. Right. Shifting back into work mode, Riley momentarily forgot about the situation she and Mac had gotten themselves into. Though this was far from the first time she’d dragged him into a closet, this was the first they’d ended up so…disheveled. 

It was just a diversion that got carried away. That’s all.  Liar. Liar. Liar. 

The problem with kissing someone was the echoing possibility of doing it again. Riley felt it in the space between them, like static electricity during a lightning storm. 

She needed to get out of that damn closet before she did something incredibly stupid. Riley wanted nothing more than to back him into a wall and lose herself in him, but Angus MacGyver wasn’t hers, and they had a job to do. 

She took another deep breath. Mac asked for a minute, and she respected that. Running away from whatever this was wasn’t an option. 

“Riles,” he said softly. She stood completely still as he reached for her face. His fingers hovered millimeters from her lips in hesitation, giving her the chance to back away. When she didn’t, he gently swiped his finger along the edge of her lips. Her pulse thundered. That small, reverent touch was more intoxicating than his hands on her skin or his tongue in her mouth would ever be. 

Belatedly, he said, “Your lipstick was smudged.” 

“Thanks,” she breathed.  

His other hand tightened on hers. “Riles, I--” He was interrupted by both of their phones ringing. 

“We should probably answer that,” Riley said. Reality beckoned. She wasn’t sure whether she was grateful or furious. Maybe both. 

It was a text from Bozer. Turn your damn comms back on. Desi’s gone.

[refinedbuffoonery]

My next project...a multi-chapter MacGyver fic!

I wasn’t going to spoil this much, but.....self control? I don’t know her.

It features:

an undercover op starring our queen Riley Davis

Mac as a hot piece of arm candy

also Bozer and Desi are there

infiltrating fancy parties

shady black market item dealers

character descriptions that will have you questioning your sexuality

epic one liners and other witty banter

the s l o w e s t  of burns

mutual pining

unbearable sexual tension

but also

shameless, passionate PDA

scandalous closet shenanigans 

I got this idea while listening to Partition by Beyoncé if that’s any indication of where this is going 

cheating death, once again

blatantly foreshadowed plot twists you’ll still never see coming

Title: Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover

Stay tuned ;)

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (5)

masterlist.

Read it on AO3. 

*****

Of course the one time Matty let the CIA borrow her best agents, they ended up walking into a trap. The Company was messy like that. Matty swore that as soon as she got her team back safe and sound, heads were going to roll. Starting with the director of the CIA himself. 

In the meantime, she tapped her foot on the war room floor while she waited for Riley to finish scrubbing the security footage. No one spoke. 

“There,” Riley said. She mirrored her screen so Matty could watch. 

Desi stood in the lower left corner of the video. While all of the other guests were enraptured by something just outside the frame, a pair of gloved hands smothered her agent’s face with a rag and dragged her out of view. 

Mac and Riley weren’t in the picture at all. 

“Mac, Riley,” Matty said, “where were you when this happened? And what is everyone staring at?” On the other end of the line, someone choked. It sounded like Riley. Bozer’s soft chuckle came through the speaker. 

“Guys, what are you not telling me?” she prompted. With the way Bozer was laughing, she knew something was up. Bozer’s “I have a secret” vibe was literally visible from the moon. 

Mac finally answered her. “Riley and I were...uhh...busy.” No one elaborated further. 

Matty had a feeling she knew exactly what “busy” entailed. Apparently, it was a very public “busy.” Even though they couldn’t see her, she smiled. “I look forward to reading all about it in your reports.” Just to make them squirm, Matty let her statement hang in the air for a few moments before getting back to the situation at hand. “Riley, can you see where Desi was taken?” 

Riley’s nails clicked on her keyboard. “Desi was standing in front of a side exit. The footage of the hallway outside doesn’t show anyone entering or leaving, so whoever took her must’ve looped the cameras.” 

Perfect. This op was the gift that just kept giving. “Mac, what do you think she was drugged with?” 

“Chloroform, most likely. Everything you need to make it can be found in any janitor’s closet.” 

“Okay, and where are we on locating Pierre?” 

“I’ve got him,” Riley answered, mercifully. “He’s in a car driving southeast.” 

“What’s southeast?” Bozer asked. 

After a few clicks, Riley said, “For starters, the border with France. But it looks like there’s a helicopter-only airport before that.” 

Matty didn’t like the directions she was about to give, but she gave them anyway. “Riley, go get him. Bozer, stay in the suite to help Riley and figure out how to get the hotel out of lockdown. Mac, find Desi.” A chorus of “yes ma’am”s filled her ears. 

She hung up and took a deep breath. Her agents had been in far worse situations, but any mission that went belly-up put Matty on edge. Mac and Riley would get them home safe, she promised herself. One way or another, they always did. 

*****

None of them like splitting up, but they all agreed it was their best option. Riley was the best high speed chase driver, and Mac would know what to do if Desi needed immediate medical attention. 

Riley was secretly relieved she’d be getting some distance from Mac, however brief. She’d figured she would spend the entire op tied to him, but chasing down Pierre gave her an excuse to process her emotions alone and figure out what the fuck was going on. 

First, she needed to get out of the building and find some wheels. 

“Hey, Mac.” He immediately met her eyes. “Could you please make me a small grenade?” 

Mac’s eyebrows skyrocketed. “Sure.” He started to head off in search of ingredients, but seemed to think better of it and turned around, leaning against a wall. “Riles, why do you need a grenade?” 

Riley grinned. “Distraction while I steal a car.” 

Mac’s mouth quirked into his ‘I’m impressed’ smirk. “That’s my girl.” 

His voice echoed in her head. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. That’s my girl. 

A few minutes later, Mac handed her his suit jacket and a plastic water bottle filled with god only knew what. For once, their fingers didn’t brush, and that stung more than any impending rejection. Even though it was wholly unnecessary, they always found excuses to brush hands. Brief reassurances they had each other’s backs. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” he said with mock seriousness. 

“No promises.” Riley stared at the jacket, trying and failing to figure out how it was related to the grenade. Maybe she was supposed to wrap it around the bottle? Looking up, she asked, “What’s the jacket for?” 

She could’ve sworn Mac blushed. “In case it’s cold outside.” She pulled it on, ducking her head to hide her own blush. Trying not to love him was damn near impossible, even if he was confusing. He didn’t touch her, but he gave her his jacket? If this was supposed to be a rejection, he was doing a terrible job at it. The jacket was way too big, but it was warm and smelled like him. Riley immediately felt safer, like his actual arms were enveloping her. Fresh memories of being wrapped up in him lurked in the back of her mind. She told them to fuck off. 

Water bottle grenade in hand, Riley slipped out of the suite, fighting the urge to look back. 

Walking through the hotel without raising suspicion was easy enough, but getting to the hotel’s underground parking lot was another matter. Since the hotel only had valet parking, there was no guest entrance to the lot. After consulting the building’s blueprints, Riley had found the series of hidden staircases she crept down now, narrowly avoiding getting caught by a pair of roaming guards. With every step, her heels clicked on the concrete, and the sound echoed up the stairwell. She’d been planning on begging Matty to let her keep the designer shoes, but at this point, she would give anything to have her favorite boots instead. 

At the bottom of the stairs, Riley clutched the water bottle and peeked into the lot. There wasn’t a soul in sight other than the twenty-nothing year old kid on his phone in the valet booth. His right thumb moved rapidly across the screen, as if he were playing a game. Lucky her. 

She chucked the grenade as far as she could away from the booth--and the exit. It exploded with a loud bang, causing the boy to practically jump out of his skin before running to investigate. “Boom,” she said with a smirk. 

Riley walked right into the booth. Keys covered two walls from floor to ceiling, each labeled with a number. Her eyes caught on a set of Lamborghini keys just below eye level. Perfect. She hit unlock, and the car chirped from across the lot, lights flashing. 

First checking to ensure the valet employee was still distracted, Riley jogged between cars and through the aisles, ignoring the way her stilettos pinched her toes. 

“Hey!” A male voice called across the lot. Shit. The valet employee finally saw her. Riley sped up. She probably looked ridiculous, running as fast as she could while trying not to fall on her face. 

When she finally reached the sleek, black convertible, Riley flung the door open and slid inside, yanking off her right shoe. It still had that new car smell. Aside from being pissed at her for not giving the car the reverence it deserved--or something like that--Jack would’ve been so jealous if he knew. Not only was it the nicest car any of them would ever drive, but the real icing on the cake was that Mac wasn’t there to destroy it. 

The engine roared to life. Bozer practically screamed in her ear. “Damn, Riley. What kind of car did you get? Also, when you exit, turn right.” 

“You’ll see,” she responded gleefully. Riley gunned it out of the lot, following Bozer’s instructions. 

As soon as she pulled out into the street, Bozer shrieked. “A Lamborghini?!? You stole a fucking Lamborghini?” 

Riley cackled with delight, speeding off in pursuit of Pierre. 

*****

Meanwhile, Mac set off in search of Desi. Riley’s laughter rang in his ear, a warm sound that reverberated through his bones. He tried and failed to ignore it. 

He knew Desi was still in the hotel. Bozer was monitoring all the exits using a Phoenix satellite, so if she had left, Bozer would’ve seen it. 

Mac knew this was all his fault. If he hadn’t been distracted by kissing Riley, then Desi wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Plain and simple. 

At the thought of kissing Riley, he was transported back into that damn closet, where they’d kept kissing for a few seconds, even after they ditched their audience. 

Those precious few seconds nearly undid him. 

There was no need to continue the show, yet she still kissed him like he was the very air she needed to breathe. And the way she’d pulled him closer by his tie…It was just enough to foster a small hope that maybe, just maybe, she might have feelings for him too. 

He just hoped those feelings were strong enough to forgive him for throwing himself at her without her consent. He’d kissed other girls as ruses before, but this was Riley, and it was different because she’s his best friend and there were uncommunicated feelings involved. Even if it made her uncomfortable, Riley played along with his ruse and totally sold it because that’s her job. That didn’t mean she wasn’t probably pissed. He crossed a line he could never uncross, and no matter what she inevitably said about it, a piece of her hard-earned trust was gone. 

Mac shook his head. Getting caught up in Riley was what got him in this mess in the first place. He needed to focus on finding Desi. 

He shoved thoughts of Riley into the far recesses of his brain and got to work. Starting from the ballroom--where the auction was still going--he tried to retrace Desi’s attacker’s steps. If he was the kidnapper, then he would’ve taken Desi down the hallway to the left. It was, by far, the least traveled, and it had a multitude of doors and other hallways branching off it, providing plenty of hiding places and alternate routes. 

Mac didn’t like working on mere speculation, but it was the closest thing to a lead he had. Whoever took Desi was careful to leave no trace of either person. 

“Okay, Mac.” Bozer said. “In this direction, there are four places they could’ve gone: an out of the way conference room, a janitor’s closet, upstairs to a room, or downstairs to the basement.” 

The conference room seemed too obvious, but Mac wanted to check it anyway. “Where’s the conference room?” 

“It’s-- Hang on. Riley, go straight through the next two roundabouts. Once you’ve gone through the second one, you’ll have crossed into France.” 

“Got it.” 

“Sorry, Mac. The conference room is down the hall, second to last door on the right.” 

“Thanks.” Mac marveled at how Bozer simultaneously juggled helping him search for Desi while guiding Riley through the streets of Monte Carlo--and now, apparently, France. He imagined Bozer at the computer, bouncing between maps and satellite imagery on one monitor and building blueprints on the other. 

Mac checked the conference room and the janitor’s closet. Both empty. He hated it, but he was slightly relieved Desi wasn’t stuffed in the closet. Something about the irony of finding his ex--who was kidnapped while he was in a different closet with a different woman--in a closet made him feel sick. 

Riley’s voice floated over comms. “Hey, Mac! Any leads on finding Desi?” Her calm and collected tone yanked him out of his guilt spiral. It was like she knew he was caught up in his head, even while hurtling away from him at breakneck speed. He silently thanked her. 

“Nothing yet. I’m going to check the basement next.” 

“Riley Davis, you are driving over a hundred miles per hour.” Bozer used his best chastising-mom voice. “Pay attention to the road!” Riley didn’t dignify him with a response, but Mac knew she rolled her eyes and pressed the gas pedal a little harder. 

*****

Riley couldn’t believe her luck when she caught up to Pierre’s blue sedan without running into any cops. She’d been driving well over a hundred miles per hour, weaving around literally every other car on the road without using her blinker like a true Californian. Catching Pierre was hardly different from her daily commute to work. 

Driving that fast, she couldn’t afford to get distracted, so she banished every trace of kissing Mac from her head and focused on catching the con man. 

She tailgated Pierre long enough for him to realize she was following him. He turned off the highway, but Riley was hot on his heels. 

“Bozer! How do I cut him off?” Her plan was simple: let Pierre think he lost her in the streets and cut him off before he could get back to the highway. 

“Take your next left, then an immediate right.” 

Riley let a couple cars merge between her and Pierre. Predictably, he kept going straight, which was the quickest way back to the highway from what Riley could tell. Following Bozer’s directions, she turned onto a parallel street. 

The cars on this road drove infuriatingly slowly--slowly enough that moments from the auction and the goddamn closet clawed their way in from the edges of her mind. As much as Riley tried to ignore and deny it, she had put all her cards on the table with that kiss. 

In doing so, she’d screwed everything up. Before Bozer interrupted them, Mac had been about to say something. A rejection, most likely. Short of verbally confessing, Riley had made her feelings crystal clear, and Mac didn’t feel the same way. He’d played a role to cover their tracks, but he meant none of it. She wasn’t even upset that he’d launched himself at her without asking first. If anyone else tried that, Riley would’ve kicked their ass the moment they had some privacy. But, this was Mac. She trusted Mac. And, if she had said stop, he would’ve immediately stopped, even if it got them in a heap of trouble. 

But, even though she trusted him with her body, with her whole life, she didn’t trust him not to shatter her heart into a thousand tiny pieces that even duct tape and paperclips couldn’t put back together. 

She cursed at a car that nearly swerved into her lane. Riley had no idea what to do next. There was no way Mac didn’t know how she felt, but she felt none of the relief that came with actually confessing feelings. Should she confess, even though she already knew he couldn’t reciprocate? Or was it better to just keep it to herself and learn to let him go? Both options sucked. 

Some part of her knew it was best to just cut her losses and break her own heart, but she wasn’t ready to go down that road just yet. 

In addition to her situation with Mac, Riley had no idea what to do next in a literal sense. Bozer had been eerily silent for the last couple minutes. 

In the distance, the street came to a dead end. “Bozer…”

“TURN RIGHT!” 

Riley nearly jumped out of her skin, but she skidded around the corner and mentally flipped Bozer off. He really needed to work on giving better directions. 

Riley brought the car to a screeching stop in the next intersection, blocking Pierre. She put the car in park, flung her door open, and stood, pointing a gun right at Pierre’s face. 

“Pierre! Get out of the car and put your hands up, or I’ll shoot.” 

“Shoot?” Bozer asked. 

“Since when do you have a gun?” Mac followed. 

“It’s Desi’s spare,” Riley explained, “now shut up!” 

She wiggled her gun at Pierre, something she’d seen Jack do a thousand times. Pierre, smartly, did exactly as she commanded. Slowly, he stepped out of his car and raised his hands up by his head. Keeping her gun trained on his chest, Riley walked toward Pierre, stopping only a few feet away. 

“Miss Jackson,” Pierre babbled, “I’m sure we can work something out.” 

“Cut the crap. Who do you work for?” 

“I work alone.” Pierre didn’t seem to be lying. If he worked alone, then who the hell took Desi? 

“Tell me something.” Riley stepped closer. She still wasn’t all that comfortable with guns, but mercifully, her arms held perfectly still. “Do you consider yourself good at your job?” 

“Of course, Mademoiselle.” 

“Then tell me why a skilled con man would try to pull such a pathetic, obvious scam.” 

He gave her the same sick smile he’d given her at the pool. Riley really didn’t like this guy. Schooling her expression into cool boredom, she raised the gun and pressed it to his forehead. “I’ll only ask once more. Who hired you?” Pierre’s eyes widened, realizing who was the predator in this situation and who was the prey. Good. Be scared, Riley thought. Maybe then you’ll give me better answers. He didn’t need to know that she wouldn’t actually shoot him. 

“Okay, okay! Let’s not get hasty. I was hired by a man named Viktor Petrov to run this specific job. He supplied the locket and the chip.” 

She didn’t dare lower the gun. “I need more information than that. Who is he?” 

“I don’t know. He hired me to run it, and gave me ridiculously specific directions, like he didn’t trust me--a professional con man--to successfully run a con. Oh, and he let me keep all of the profit from the sale of the locket. That’s all I know, I swear.” Riley was pretty sure he was telling the truth. 

“Riley,” Bozer said in her ear, “I’ve got Interpol agents closing in to pick up Pierre. Did he tell you anything useful?” 

“I’ve got a name, but it’s a common one.” She eyed Pierre. Even with a gun between his eyes, he shamelessly dragged his gaze up and down her body, taking in her fitted, navy gown and Mac’s gray suit jacket. Her stomach churned. 

Behind her, a pair of Interpol agents announced their presence. Riley breathed a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to endure Pierre’s creepy staring anymore. 

Slapping handcuffs on the con man, one of the agents said, “We’ll take it from here.” Riley waited until Pierre was securely in the agents’ car before returning to her own. 

She prayed their only lead wasn’t a dead end. 

*****

Mac had nearly cleared the whole laundry room before finding Desi unconscious and slumped against a washing machine, wrists and ankles zip-tied together. A rag was tied over her nose and mouth. Shit. Shit. Shit. He yanked the rag off and checked her pulse. She’d been drugged--a quick sniff confirmed his chloroform theory--but she was alive. 

He cut the zip ties before shaking her shoulder to wake her up. After a few minutes, Desi groaned and cracked her eyes open. “Hey,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve got you.” 

She mumbled something, and it took Mac a moment to realize she’d said “I know him.” 

“Know who?” 

“The man who did this.” Desi coughed. “I...we hooked up once.” Her voice was high-pitched and loopy; she was high as a kite. “Okay, maybe a lot more than once, but before you judge, you need to know that he’s really hot.” Desi tried to sound stern but failed miserably. “Viktor Petrov. He’s a mob boss who poses as an art collector.” Mac checked her for injuries while she explained. “I didn’t find out about the mob boss part until later...about five minutes before he discovered I was a spy. It was all downhill from there.” No shit, Mac thought. “He must’ve been at the auction and recognized me.” 

“Then let’s get you out of here before he comes back,” Mac said, hauling her to her feet. 

“Goo--I think I’m going to puke.” Mac dutifully held her hair back as she hunched over and vomited on the floor. He couldn’t help but think this was his fault. If only he’d been paying attention…

Not even looking at him, Desi snapped, “Give yourself a break. This isn’t your fault.” 

“It feels like it is.” 

Desi straightened up. “I know a hundred different ways to take someone out with just my bare hands, yet I still got drugged and dumped in a hotel laundry room. It happens to the best of us. The important part is that you found me, I’m fine, and now it’s time to move on.” 

Move on. She didn’t know him at all if she thought he could just move on. First he’d fucked up his relationship with Riley, then he fucked up keeping his partner safe, all in the span of a few minutes. He was on a high speed train of fuckery that only crashed at the end of the line. 

“Let’s go,” Desi commanded. 

They stumbled back to the suite without any trouble.

[refinedbuffoonery]

CHAPTER 6 TEASER

I just have one more round of edits & then I’ll post the chapter tomorrow. In the meantime....

Petrov stood in the middle of the room, a healthy distance away from both women, with his hands in his pockets. He had the casual posture of a man who was used to being the most powerful person in a room. The man exuded wealth, from his perfectly tailored suit to his immaculate leather shoes. 

And then Mac saw Riley. 

The video feed he’d been watching didn’t do her justice. She lounged in an antique chair like it was her throne, the hotel suite her court. Her navy blue gown pooled at her feet, and her black acrylic nails gave the illusion of claws or talons drumming the armrests, not human fingers. 

Mac dragged his gaze higher. 

Her hair tumbled down her bare shoulders, no longer wild and windswept. No, this Riley was a far cry from the woman who’d cackled while speeding down foreign streets in a stolen Lamborghini convertible. This Riley was polished, cold, and looked like she was debating skinning Petrov alive. 

[refinedbuffoonery]

Riley + Sunglasses + Undercover (1)

masterlist. 

Read it on AO3.

******

It wasn’t often Matty called the team into the war room for a full team mission. 

She’d interrupted their preparations for Mac and Bozer’s annual summer party--complete with Bozer’s “none of you have a high enough security clearance to know what’s in these” burgers and some DIY fireworks courtesy of Mac. 

Matty stood in front of the screen and waited for them to file in. Russ strolled in first, plopping into the chair to Matty’s right. 

“What are we here for, Matty?” He crossed an ankle over his knee and folded his hands in his lap. 

“You’ll see, Taylor.” He frowned, clearly unhappy with being kept out of the loop. 

Desi and Bozer came in next, the former utterly unamused as Bozer prattled on about the genius of recruiting spies as freelance stunt doubles. They stood in the back of the room. 

Matty watched through the windows as Riley bent over, piled her hair into a bun on the top of her head, and stood back up before walking into the war room and perching on the arm of the chair closest to Matty. She gave the young woman a knowing look before picking up the tablet sitting on the table. 

Matty opened her mouth to ask where Mac was, but the blond hurried into the room making an excuse about an accidental glitter explosion. Sure enough, a few specks glinted on his cheeks and forehead. The chair closest to the paperclips was still open, but Mac simply grabbed one out of the bowl before sinking into the chair Riley perched on. Interesting. 

Time to begin. “Sorry for interrupting the party, guys. This morning the CIA got a tip about a black market electronics sale going down in Monte Carlo.”

Bozer interrupted, “If this is CIA intel, then why are we here?” 

“I”ll get there, Bozer.” She gave him a chastising glare. To his credit, he didn’t flinch. “Two days ago, a next generation computer chip surfaced on the black market. The CIA doesn’t know the identity of the seller. However,” she glanced at Riley again, “they do know the identity of the buyer.” Mac followed her eyes and glanced at Riley with a puzzled look. 

After a few taps and swipes on the tablet, Riley’s headshot appeared on the screen behind her. Matty fought the urge to laugh at her team’s matching confused expressions. 

“Danika Jackson is the heiress to an up-and-coming American tech company. She is the head of the company’s research and development, as well as a trusted advisor of her father, the CEO. Ms. Jackson has also been known to get her hands dirty on behalf of her father and their company. An unpatented prototype chip is exactly the kind of thing that would get her attention.” 

“A chip like this could be used to build just about anything--a supercomputer, smarter AI, a crazy powerful cell phone, you name it,” Riley said, scanning the chip’s specs on the screen. “Plus, since it’s not patented, someone can back-engineer it and reproduce it as is.” 

Matty directed her attention to Bozer. “And that,” she pointed at Riley, “is why the CIA handed over this op. I quote ‘have the perfect agent at my disposal.’” 

“Makes sense,” Mac interjected. “She has the tech skills to be credible and the undercover experience--” 

Matty cut him off. “To keep her from being killed. We know. And so does the director of the CIA.” A few eyebrows raised at that last bit. She turned to Riley. “Congratulations, Ms. Jackson. You’re about to revolutionize the American tech industry.” Addressing them all, “I’ll finish briefing you on the plane. You’re wheels up in 20.”