#mac x will

[i-will-sing-no-requiem]

Every All Too Well Lyric as a Ship

Will & MacKenzie (The Newsroom)

(25/53)

[insp]

[buildinggsr]

THE NEWSROOM 1.01

[melodious-oblivion]

When MacKenzie McHale does ✨that look✨ and she’s the human mix of 🥰+🥺 I completely understand why Will McAvoy is the biggest simp in the world for her. Because I am too.

[stillcomethenight]

"Pronouncing a name in a random show can't make you cry--"

Mac: *tenderly, her head tilted to the side* Billy....

[alma37]

[...]let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are.

Duke Orsino, Twelfth Night, Act 2, Scene 4, William Shakespeare

I love this quote and it matches so many of my otp (the latest having... more or less a 500 years age gap. 😆)

[alexromero]

Happy Valentine’s Day.

[jenni3penny]

Life According to Charlotte McAvoy, ACN Digital’s Internal Investigative Assistant

(aka: Charlie Five-Finger-Discounts Her Father’s Smart Phone Whenever He’s Not Looking and Uncle Neal Instigates Whenever Possible and Mac Saves Every Single Shot Regardless of Quality) “Hell, she likes that her daughter is affectionate. She likes that the girl has no qualms about crawling into her lap and driving her head up so that she can whisper things like “So pretty, Mummy.” into her ear.

She appreciates the fact that her daughter is not curtailed or corralled, not quieted or stilled.

Charlotte is rambunctious and talkative and charismatic by nature, by McHale nerve and sheer McAvoy will.“ McAvoy & Co, jenni3penny @sewnsalamander. @jodemm08

[professortennant]

✍

(will/mac hs au)

tw: brief mentions of abuse

The thing about debate team is that it’s a constant source of stress. It’s research and note-taking and practice, practice, practice. It’s convincing a panel of judges that your side was the most well-prepared, researched, accurate, and thorough approach on the stage.

It’s also long hours after school trapped together inside a single classroom.

Will McAvoy and MacKenzie McHale are the best team at Skinner High. They’re also the loudest and half the time the rest of the team doesn’t know if they’re debating for fun or out of unresolved sexual tension.

But they’re the heart and soul of the team and everyone rallies around them, drawing from their strength and passion. 

Then one day, something shifts; changes. Will shows up late. He’s angry and he tosses his packet of notes on the table before storming back out of the room, keeping his hat low over his face.

Silence hung in the room and Mac pushed herself up from behind the desk before hurrying after him, calling down the hallway, “Will!”

But Will simply picked up the pace and turned into the bathroom. Mac rolled her eyes and, ignoring the “Boys Bathroom” sign on the outside of the door, pushed her way inside. 

“Will?”

He cursed softly under his breath and snapped, “Did you forget how to read, McHale?”

She stepped forward, ducking low and checking that no one else was in the bathroom with them. They were alone. “Oh, I can read just fine. Did you forget how to listen? I was calling your name back there.”

Her hand rested on his shoulder for a moment and he tensed, still refusing to look at her. She furrowed her brow and her voice dropped, soft and concerned. “Will? Look at me,” she commanded. 

As if responding to the command, he turned on the spot and Mac had to stifle a gasp. The right side of Will’s face was mottled purple and red, the skin swollen and angry. Will looked straight ahead, as if looking through her, and she thought he rather looked like a stoic soldier, ready to face the firing squad. 

“Your father again?”

A single nod. 

She sighed and began assembling pulling paper towels from the dispenser and running them under cold water in the sink. Will watched her, carefully. Once the makeshift cold compress was made she turned back to him and reached up to gently press it to the bruise. 

Will hissed at the contact and he covered her hand with his automatically as if to pull her away. But she shooed him away and he rolled his eyes and slumped, letting her tend to him. 

They stood there in silence. Mac knew she only had to wait and he would tell her what was wrong. Sure enough, Will spoke. 

“He went after my mom again. I thought he was done with this shit but he was drinking bad again and,” he trailed off, as if there was nothing more to say, no other explanation to offer. He pulled Mac’s hand away from his face and straightened his hat as if putting his armor back on.

Mac squashed the rage at Will’s father she felt every time Will came to school with a new bruise. He had pleaded with her that he had it under control, that it was only for a few more months, that he could take care of it. It didn’t stop her from worrying about him, from wanting to wrap him up and keep him safe. 

She ghosted her fingertips over his sore skin and she watched as his armor cracked and his eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his face to her touch. 

For a moment, in the quiet solitude of the bathroom, they stood together, simply standing. She wished her touch could heal him, protect him. 

But a moment can only last that long--a moment. And soon, Will was pulling away from her and brushing past her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mac.”

She let him go this time. 

But one day, she would follow him, yell at him, tell him there was nowhere he could go that she wouldn’t follow. Perhaps she should tell him that sooner, rather than later. Perhaps....