#nysm imagine

[the-fandom-abyss]

Tarot Card Prophecy

Henley Reeves x Reader

Genre: Angst ❀/Fluff ♡

Word Count: 1,816 words

A/N: This is one of my favourite movies and thought why not write a fic for it. So enjoy the Henley love 🥰

The sound of shattered glass fell amongst the otherwise busy highway followed by the crackle of a fledgling fire. A scream cut through the noise, a shriek of a name that will be known around the world.

"Jack!" You pushed through the crowd, scrambling to find your way over to the scene. "Let me through!" Another desperate plea to get closer to the once mighty horseman that lay unconscious under distressed metal. All it took was strong arms to wrap around your waist, a muffled "it's not safe" to reach your ears for the car to be engulfed by flames. Shrapnel spread throughout the site, pushing back the nearby traffic and pedestrians. The man inside drifted away, along with the broken pieces of your heart.

"Let me go" the weight of the world crashed upon your chest as the grief settled inside. "I can't breathe" with a forceful wriggle, you escaped from the man's grip, only the stumble back through the crowd. With each step, your chest tightened causing you to gasp for air. Shaking fingers gripped at your collar, wanting nothing more than to rip it from your skin. Your legs buckled beneath you, the weight becoming too much. A steady hand that contrasted your own, caught you in your daze, pulling you closer to them.

"Y/N, I've got you" all it took was your head to hit the woman's chest for inconsolable sobs to reach the surface. All the tension, the heartache, the horrifying images bubbled over as your body shook in her arms. "Let's go" she guided you towards the car, gently placing you in the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt. She resumed her drive, one hand on the wheel while the other rested gently on your thigh.

"Henley" you squeaked before a fresh wave of tears ushered their way down your cheeks. Her hand tightened, offering a comforting squeeze.

"I know princess. I'm so sorry" Henley chest tightened at the sight, her own tears threatening to fall. A years worth of performing, following a tight script with diagrams and floor plans and yet nothing prepared her for this. For you were not supposed to be on the bridge, you were to be at home, in the safe house. The plans were not divulged to you, Jack's death was not explained for the trick it was. For you, the grief and death were very much real, the guilt that flowed through Henley was as real as the person next to her. All she wanted was to tell you the truth but even that simple act could lead to big consequences. So she sat in silence, stewing in her unspoken thoughts, anxiously waiting to reach her destination.

"We're here" her softly spoken voice rings through your hazy mind. With what energy you had left, you allowed Henley to guide you inside. She had washed the soot and debris off you, helping you into clean clothes. Her last action was to tuck you into bed with her crawling in on the other side. Running on pure instinct, you pulled Henley closer to you, your head laying on her chest. She delicately ran her fingers through your hair, peppering light kisses to the top of your head. With the small amount of energy you had left, you wrapped your arms around the red head, silent tears coating her shirt. "Go to sleep baby, I'll be here" her voice was hushed and gentle, afraid that she might shatter you if she spoke louder.

"You promise?" It sounded so broken, so fragile and Henley hated herself for being part of that reason. She tucked her fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze to look into her eyes. A soft smile played on her lips before the words "I promise" were uttered. The safety you felt in her arms mixed with the little energy you had left, it all become too much for your tired eyes. They closed, mind drifting to happier dreams that would distract you from the living nightmare.

When your eyes fluttered open, they discovered a cold and empty side where Henley should be. A yawn overtook your senses, releasing the built up tension in your muscles. Heavy hands searched for the light, wanting to illuminate the impending answer. When the light reached the corners of the room, you were left with more emptiness than when you started. A note had caught your attention, Henley's writing etched out in ink.

"I have one more step to complete and we'll be free. I'll tell you everything when I get home, stay here and stay safe. I love you x"

A groan escaped your lungs, as you fell back into the mattress. How could she think about the horsemen when one of them had been killed? You would never fully understand the importance of this task, however you did know that prison time could be given. So as the note said, you stayed at home, patiently waiting for your girlfriend to return. The hours ticked by slowly, encouraging you to think of all the ways this could go south. How Henley could end up in prison or worse, have an ending just like Jack. The latter was the more prominent thought that swirled within your head. It was had to stop your mind from wondering when all you had was four walls to bounce off.

It was only when the click of the front door could be heard vibrating through the silence, that you knew this was life or death. The familiar clack of Henley's shoes followed shortly, indication that she was in fact alive. Without a second thought, you ran from the room into the wide open arms of your girlfriend. She lifted you with ease, encouraging you ti wrap your legs around her.

"It's all over baby, we did it"

"Really?"

"Mhm" she hummed, her hand cradling the back of your head as she held you close. She adored the way you nuzzled into her neck, finding comfort in the smallest of places. "I have a surprise for you" she sang, gaining your attention. Your eyes met her hopeful brown, searching for an answer. When a cough was heard behind her, it was then that you noticed you were not alone. Atlas and Merritt were awkwardly standing by as the two of you were trapped inside a bubble. Jack stood just right to the pair, hands in his pockets, looking everywhere but you.

"Jack?" You said in disbelief, wriggling out of Henley's grip just to examine him. Both hands cradled his face, searching for any sign of magic or trick of light. "Are you real?" His laugh boomed through the room, a genuine smile lifted at his lips. The sight of his toothy grin was infectious, creating a mirror image on your lips. "I thought you were dead"

"It was a trick" he said through slightly squished cheeks, you were unwilling to let go for obvious reasons. Then it dawned on you, if this was part of the plan then Henley would have known. She allowed you space to grieve a man that was not dead, while knowing that he continued to breathe. Jack watched the realisation hit when the glint in your eyes dwindled and a more tense expression took its place. His gaze flitted towards Henley, who received the message loud and clear. She braced herself for what was to come. In one swift movement, you had turned your sights on Henley, stalking over to her, feet stomping against the floor.

"You knew, didn't you?! This whole time you knew and you didn't tell me?!" She had yet to hear you raise your voice, you were known as softly spoken. So for you to be shouting in the otherwise quiet apartment, she must have made the worst mistake imaginable.

"I wanted to but I couldn't" She tried to reach forward in hopes to comfort you with her touch. She didn't expect for you to pull away, creating distance between you.

"Bullshit, you tell me everything. Why stop now on the most important part of the plan?"

"If you had known and the police got to you, it would have been game over" She winced the moment the words left her mouth, it wasn't the best way of conveying her intentions.

A scoff resonated within the room, accompanied by a roll of your eyes. "So you didn't trust me? Or you just wanted someone to be believable as I watched the event?" Henley was taken back to the day before, watching in horror as you thrashed in an officers arms. How your scream broke through the hum of engines and police sirens. She observed the effects the plan had on you, it killed her to pretend it never happened. The anger she felt for herself, for how foolish she had been bubbled over. Unfortunately you were the person to receive it all.

"You weren't supposed to be there, I told you to stay home"

"I couldn't just sit by, the police were after you. I just wanted to help" The expression on your face turned to that is a kicked puppy. Eyes wide and glossy, bottom lip jutted and quivering with emotion. She couldn't stand there and deny you, the look alone warranted a hug, a kiss and anything you could ever want. She crumbled just as quickly as she rose.

"And you did baby, you did so well" her soft fingers wiped the tears that rolled down your cheeks.

"I'm still mad at you" you huffed, a calm giggle passed her lips at your little display. Your forgiving nature always took her by surprise but she was thankful nevertheless.

"I know"

"You'll have to make it up to me, big time"

"I don't doubt it, I can start tonight if you'd want" her hands travelled from your hips to the curve of your ass, giving it a squeeze. The action made you jump, not expecting her to be so bold.

"Keep it in your pants Reeves, we have company" She lent forward, her lips brushing against your pulse point. A shiver followed her actions which caused a smirk to form. "That's never stopped us before" the world around you began to fade as she kissed up your neck. A small moan filled the room, as she sucked on your pulse point.

A collective “ew” was heard behind you, as your surroundings trickled back in. The words caused you both to pull away, laughing at the faces of the men behind you. That drew you away from the red head, finding Jack and dragging him towards the couch. Henley observed the wrinkles by your eyes, the flow of your movement like a weight had been lifted. She knew that this discussion wasn’t over not by a long shot but she’ll soak up the sunshine for as long as she can.

[heliads]

Hiya Lisa my love!! I think this may be the first request I’m sending you (omg!?) But I am so excited to do so, and of course for our best boy Jack Wilder <3

Okay this one’s a little silly but I’m thinking Jack Wilder x reader where the reader is part of the Horsemen, but Jack and her don’t exactly get along all too well (enemies/reluctant allies to lovers). I’m thinking they’re sent off together to check out and map a location for the Horsemen’s next big act (maybe a fancy gala! That’d be so fun!), but the whole time they’re just bickering and shooting jabs at each other and the other guys are on comms and are just So Tired™ of their bullshit 😭

amber i love you for this

masterlist

You don’t think you’ve ever seen the magical enigma known professionally as J. Daniel Atlas and familiarly as a pain in all of your asses as stressed as he is right before the start of a new job. The Horsemen are world renowned for their intricate performances and flawless setups, which only serves to increase the pressure on all of you to keep one-upping yourselves every time you appear in the spotlight. Danny has taken it upon himself to make sure that all of you stay perfect, and that responsibility is manifesting itself in the form of a lecture right now.

He’s standing in front of you, eyes wild with the fire of what could be creative genius or perhaps too much coffee, and rattling off a series of questions to make sure you know what you’re doing.

“Where are you going?” He asks first.

You meet his gaze steadily. “The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Specifically the busiest areas during the Met Gala.”

“How are you entering?” Danny queries.

“Two ways. First, as a tourist, to spot the security cameras. Then, I’ll go again at night, to lay some cameras of our own and run some more thorough investigations.”

Danny takes a step closer. His hands are steepled together, making him the perfect picture of a plotting supervillain from one of those bad action movies Merritt keeps playing. “What, specifically, are you looking for?”

You want to roll your eyes, but you learned a long time ago that showing any sort of emotion except for intensity in front of Daniel Atlas during his mad planning sessions is only asking for trouble. So, you keep your cool, or you try to, at least. “The normal stuff. Alcoves and closets where we can hide. Areas with low security presence. Entrances and exits. Janitors. Extra uniforms. That sort of thing.”

Daniel nods once, the only sign that you’re not outright bombing his little pop quiz. “And who is going with you on this reconnaissance mission?”

This time, you can’t disguise your sigh of disgust. “I’m taking a stubborn child.”

Danny gives you a cool stare. “Try again.”

You give him a look, but Daniel is prone to winning staring contests, especially when he’s in this sort of mood, so you cut your losses and give in. “Fine. I’m taking Jack.”

To your side, someone starts clapping. “Perfect response!”

You and Daniel both turn in unison to see your recon partner applauding your sarcastic answer from his chair a few paces away. His feet are kicked up on the table in front of him, and although he had been aimlessly scrolling through his phone this entire time, he’s put the device down temporarily so he can remind you just how strong a bond the two of you share. Which is to say, in no uncertain terms, none at all.

Daniel glances back at you. “You’re not going to let the two of you working together be a problem, will you?”

You fold your arms across his chest, affronted. “I won’t. You might want to double-check with my so-called partner, though. Who, by the way, is free to answer any of these questions on his own. I don’t see why I’m the one who has to know everything while he gets off easy. Aren’t we sharing this responsibility? And by extension, this interrogation?”

Jack just flashes you a thousand-watt smile. “You seemed to have it covered, sweetheart. Besides, I just like hearing the sound of your lovely voice.”

You flip him off. He blows you a kiss, then does the same. Daniel looks ready to burst a blood vessel. “Focus, you two. I want no slip ups. We’re stealing the show of the Met Gala. If we make a mistake, I think Anna Wintour will personally kill us.”

“She’s going to do that anyway,” Jack muses, “We’re interrupting her little fashion show. God forbid someone focuses on us instead of all the celebrities who aren’t even dressing to theme. If I had that money, I could do way better, is all I’m saying.”

You shoot him a perplexed look. “Since when have you paid attention to the Met Gala outfits? Last time I tried talking about it, you told me that was all absurdist nonsense.”

“Maybe I was just talking about you,” Jack answers vaguely. “I’m allowed to, like, develop interests.”

You toss him a glare, then turn back to Daniel, who for some reason looks somewhat entertained. “Can we go back to the plan, please?”

Danny straightens up. “Yes, I’d like that. I’ve briefed both of you on the entrances and exits I need you to scout out–”

“Too many times,” Jack cuts in. He’s not wrong. Danny’s been over this every hour on the hour since you got the call to stage your own show at one of the most famous fashion opportunities of the year.

Daniel, however, seems to think that he hasn’t mentioned the details enough. Now Jack is on the receiving end of not just your glare but Daniel’s as well. “As I was saying,” Danny continues smoothly, “You’ll get in and get out. Try not to move too quickly, you don’t want to attract attention, but don’t linger too long, either.”

“We’ll be fine,” you assure him. “Not our first rodeo.”

Danny nods hesitantly. “I know. Just your first rodeo together in a while.”

That’s no big secret. You and Jack may both be Horsemen, but that certainly doesn’t mean you have to like each other. In fact, you couldn’t be farther from it. You’re not enemies, so to speak, an enemy is the FBI or the CIA, but referring to whatever exists between you as friendship is stretching the truth. You’re more like uncertain, unhappy allies. You’ll work together so long as you get paid and stay in the spotlight while you’re at it, but you’re not likely to grab drinks after a show together.

However, the Horsemen come first above any personal squabble. Always. That’s the one thing you and Jack can agree on. What you’re working on is bigger than the two of you, it’s bigger than all of you. To most of the world, you are magic. No rift between teammates is worth damaging that ideal.

That’s why Jack straightens up at last, and dons an expression verging on solemnity. “We’ll do our part, Danny. No need to worry.”

“There had better not be,” Daniel comments, but he backs off after that, and leaves to track down Merritt to deliver a similar speech.

Now alone, Jack’s familiar cavalier attitude comes back in a flash. “Can’t wait for our little date tomorrow, L/N,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “It’s going to be so much fun.”

The next morning, you and Jack wait your turn in the entrance queue at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You’re both disguised with baseball caps pulled low over your heads, then paired with sunglasses, and you each have fake IDs in your pockets just in case. It’s surprisingly easy to get around undetected; although the Horsemen are famous the world over, no one expects to see them outside of one of your performances. It makes no sense to spot one of you in a coffee shop or in line ahead of you, so their minds just glance over you as if you were never there at all.

It’s certainly convenient. You could always go to an outside source for intel, but if there’s one lesson you’ve learned throughout your time, it’s to never trust anyone outside of your immediate circle. There are always people who’ll sell off your secrets, or debunkers frothing at the mouth to show how you do what you do.

No, it’s best to keep everything under wraps, even if it makes disguises necessary. There’s a brief moment of panic in which the security guard checking Jack’s bag lingers on his face a little longer than usual, but he’s waved through soon enough and then you’re able to wander further into the museum.

A voice crackles over your earpiece. “What was that about?” Danny, paranoid as always.

Jack shrugs, directing his voice towards you so no one will suspect he’s talking to anyone else. “Probably just a newbie convinced they’ll catch a would-be robber by checking my hand sanitizer close enough. They didn’t plant any bugs, we’re good. Most likely, she was just captivated by my exceedingly good looks and got distracted.”

You scoff. “Or maybe she was just fascinated by your hideousness and wanted a better look.”

Jack clutches a hand to his heart, feigning agony. “My hideousness?” Y/N, I’m hurt.”

“Good,” you smile saccharinely at him.

Daniel sighs in a gust of static over your earpiece. “Focus, you two. Please.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Jack says. “We’ll get to work.”

You and Jack slip through the exhibits, pretending to examine paintings in sculptures when, in reality, you’re looking harder at the security features in each room. The Horsemen already have a rough plan in mind for how you’re going to enter and exit, but the security presence could change which specific entrance you use.

When you loiter a little too long near one oil painting of two nobles dancing at a lavish ball, Jack doubles back to your side. “Everything alright? We haven’t been noticed yet, have we?”

You shake your head, snapping yourself back to reality. “No, we’re fine. Just looking. I love this year’s theme for the gala. If I had an actual invitation, I would have worn something like the dress in this painting. I would want to, at least. Of course, that would only happen if we weren’t breaking in, but. Yeah. That’s what I would do.”

You realize you’re rambling and try to cut yourself off, but you’ve already been going on for a while. You wait for Jack to tease you, but instead, the corner of his lips tugs up in a soft half-smile. “It would look good,” he admits, “You would. Maybe we should petition Danny to let us dress up. We could recreate the painting.”

He swoops closer, placing one hand on your waist and taking yours with the other, spinning you into a waltz just like in the painting. Jack pulls you close in an exaggerated dip just like in the painting, one that takes you a little too near the painting. One of the security guards surges across the room to tell you two to move away again. Jack lets you up, then exaggeratedly apologizing, slapping the guy on the back as a gesture of camaraderie. As the guard walks away, you can see the tracer he’s planted, one that will give you two much-needed information on the paths each guard takes on their shift.

“Nice one,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” Jack says, but he’s still looking at you, as if mentally cataloging each and every place his hands had been just moments before. “I am nice.”

You swat him on the shoulder, and he winks. Rather than give that an answer, you head to the next exhibit. The two of you tag the next few guards you come across, noting janitor’s closets and fire exits while you’re at it. 

It’s easy to settle into a rhythm. You go from room to room, you snipe at each other, you get the job done. Jack passes a sculpture of a nude woman and suggests that be the costume you wear to the Gala, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively; you tell him that you’ll do it only when he’s got biceps the size of the Greek hero statue next to it.

Eventually, you only have one tag left. This one, though, will be the most difficult. The chief security guard has access to the central security station of the museum; by bugging him, you can get the passcode to the main room, which would be a significant help. The only problem is that you’ll have to get close enough to talk to the guy, and he looks far more suspicious of everyone around him than any of the other guards.

You volunteer to do it, and weave your way over to the guard in charge. It takes a heady dose of flirting, but you’re able to get the job done eventually. You do have to shell out a fake phone number, but he’ll only find out the number isn’t yours later that night. No harm, no foul.

Or, not according to you, at least. When you walk back over to Jack, though, your partner in crime has his arms folded tight across his chest, and he looks more annoyed than you’ve seen him all day. At last, something has managed to pierce his armor of sarcastic, joking indifference, but you’re not sure what.

“He seems nice,” Jack says, voice unnaturally calm, “Maybe you do want to take him out on a date after this, like you said.”

You laugh. “We both know that was an act, Wilder. No need to get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “I have nothing to be jealous of.”

“Nothing?” You ask, one brow raised. “So you wouldn’t mind if I went back and gave him my real number?”

Jack slings an arm around your shoulder in a pretense of affection, but it feels more like he’s pinning you to him, making sure you can’t go back and do as threatened. “That would be ridiculous. It would ruin our whole act.”

You grin. “What act?”

“That we’re here on a date of our own, obviously,” Jack says.

“We haven’t done anything of the sort the whole time we were here,” you point out. “It makes more sense for him to think we’re just friends.”

“Then we’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” Jack suggests, and although you do notice the glint in his eyes when he says it, you’re still not expecting him to lean forward and kiss you. The kiss is– startling, yes, but not bad, not at all, and when he finally breaks away and looks triumphantly over at the guard who’d been flirting with you, you get the feeling that Jack thought so too.

“I think we should do this all the time,” Jack whispers to you. “Maybe we should ask Danny to change our assignments around.”

“Actually,” a voice crackles over your earpieces, “I’d rather neither of you ever spoke to me again. If I have to think about you two making out one more time, I’ll pour bleach directly into my brain.”

You slap a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. “Oh, no. Daniel, how long have our comms been on?”

“The whole time,” your showman says, “I hated all of it, thank you for asking.”

Jack snorts. “And you didn’t remind us to turn off our mics?”

“Merritt wanted to see if you’d actually commit enough to do it,” Danny says, sounding supremely unhappy. “Now we’re both traumatized. Just get your asses back here and never bring this up again.”

This time, you can’t hide your laugh. “Alright, we will. Try to stay away from the bleach in the meantime.”

“I make no promises,” Danny grumbles, sending you and Jack into a wave of laughter again.

Jack reaches up to switch off his own earpiece, then does the same for you, gently brushing the side of your face with his hand while he’s at it. “Well,” he says slowly, “We might as well make the most of our time right now, hadn’t we? I’d hate for our ticket money to go to waste.”

You grin. “Quit the theatrics and kiss me.”

Jack Wilder doesn’t usually do as told. This time, though, he makes an exception.

requested by @hiya-itsamber, i hope you enjoy!

now you see me tags: @mayfieldss

[hermionegalathynius]

Found Family (4/?)

So I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of positive reactions this story is getting. I just want to say thank you to everyone who takes the time to like or reblog or comment my work because it means the world to me.

Fandom: Now You See Me

Pairing: Danny Atlas x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing — read at your own discretion.

Part 3

  “Hello New York!” Danny exclaimed, stepping forward and greeting the crowd. They screamed. 

  “Thank you so much! Hey, it’s great to be back! And have you met our newest Horsemen, the May sisters! Y/n and Lula!”

  The audience cheered louder and you and Lula waved, bright smiles on both your faces. Danny grinned back at you with a wink. 

  “Feels good right?”

  You nodded, “Yep.”

  “Pretty good,” Lula said, walking across the stage, “Pretty good.”

  Danny turned back to the audience and started to calm them, “Thank you, thank you.”

  The cheering quietened.

  “Um, okay. We want to talk to you about your privacy. What does your privacy mean to you?”

  “Because apparently to Owen Case, it means absolutely nothing,” Merritt continued.

  The audience looked around nervously. Your smile widened as you moved to stand next to Danny.

  “No actually, Merritt, it means less than absolutely nothing,” you said before addressing the audience, “You see, Owen’s mocked your privacy. He’s scorned it.”

  Danny nodded, running a discreet hand down your back and loosening the tension in your shoulders. You tried not to blush in front of an audience of people. 

  “Right,” he continued, “and we’re not just talking about the things that you already agreed to when you signed probably without reading the terms and conditions of Octas 1 through 7.”

  “So,” Lula began, “Before we start the show, we had Owen agree to a few terms of our own.”

  You grinned at her, proud of her for reaching this dream. She looked so comfortable up there, talking to the audience. You were glad to be able to do it with her, too.

  “So everything that he had once considered private…” Lula trailed off.

  Your heart dropped to your stomach as her mic cut out. One glance at Danny told you he understood and he quickly walked over to Lula.

  “Yeah, everything that he once considered private is now…” his mic cut off too.

  “Shit,” you whispered, not bothering to mind your language as you assumed yours had cut off too. 

  The screen behind you flashed and white noise filled the theatre. People screamed. 

  “Oh my,” a computer-generated voice echoed through the room, “As the Horsemen like to say, magic is about controlling perception.”

  You gazed up at the shifting face that appeared on the screen. Someone grabbed your arm gently and you turned to see Danny. 

 “Y/n!” He exclaimed, “Are you alright?”

  You swallowed, fear piercing through you, “I… yeah. Yeah I’m okay. What’s going on, Danny?”

  He shook his head, “I don’t know.”

  “You see them as the champions of the truth,” the voice continued, “but are they? Or is that just another one of their illusions?”

  “Shit shit shit,” Merritt was saying as he and Lula joined you and Danny in the middle of the stage, “Where’s Dylan?”

  “And Jack?” Lula added. 

  “So since they clearly love secrets, let’s reveal some of theirs.”

  “Danny, everyone, get off the stage,” Dylan’s voice crackled through the coms, “Jack, go with them. I’ll see you at the meet up point.”

  Danny’s hand moved down your arm and gripped yours. You squeezed his fingers in response.

  “Let’s go,” he said, pulling you off the stage behind him. 

  The four of you began running, the voice echoing behind you clear as day. 

  “Do you recall the death of Jack Wilder? What if I told you he’s not just alive, but he’s actually right here.”

  Jack’s alarmed face under his security cap was displayed on a screen you passed as you ran out of the backstage area.

  “Dammit,” you heard Danny mutter. His hand was still firmly clasped around yours. Normally you would be bothered by the tightness, but adrenalin was coursing through your veins and you were just that desperate not to lose track of him in this chaos. 

  “And do you know who else is here? The FBI. Let’s let them in, shall we? And now for the big reveal…”

  “Where’s the door to the roof?” Danny called to Jack as the younger man joined the group running to the meeting point. 

  “Take the next left then up the stairs,” Jack said. 

  “There’s a fifth Horseman, and he’s the biggest criminal of them all. FBI agent Dylan Rhodes.”

  The five of you punched through the door to the roof. 

  “How the hell could this happen? I thought Dylan had everything under control!” Merritt yelled.

  “Yeah. Apparently he didn’t,” Danny said, quietly frustrated in the way you knew he could get.

  Merritt whirled on the illusionist, and something in his expression told you Danny wouldn’t like what he was about to say. 

  “Maybe you’re the leak, Dan. Where’ve you been sneaking off to?” Merritt demanded. 

  Danny let go of your hand and advanced on the mentalist, “Don’t you dare for a second insinuate that I had anything to do with this!”

  “I’m not insinuating, that’s your-“ Merritt began to retort, but Jack cut in. 

  “Let’s get to the truck, come on!”

  You all ran to the black tube. Danny nudged you in front of him, and you jumped in. 

  Gritting your teeth against the roller-coster sensation in your gut, you crossed your arms over your chest and noted with some curiosity the pulsing sound coming from the gaps in the tube. 

  You could also hear Jack sliding ahead of you and Danny behind you. After a moment you also heard Merritt screaming further back. 

  Then, with a thud you tumbled into a laundry basket. 

  “Wha…” you breathed, getting a split second to gaze around at your surroundings before Danny slammed into you. 

  “Oof,” he said, “Sorry. You okay?”

  You winced, “Yeah. A little bruised, but I’ve had worse. You?”

  He nodded as Lula and Merritt tumbled into the basket next to you, “Yeah. What the hell is going on?”

  “Wasn’t there supposed to be a truck?” Merritt asked, clambering out of the basket. The rest of you followed his lead. Asian people in white aprons started yelling at you, shoving you through a crowded, steamy kitchen.

  “Wait,” Danny said in between being shoved by Chinese chefs, “did you mis-run the tube?”

  “No, I put it in the truck, I know I did!” Jack exclaimed, bumping into you while trying to dodge an oncoming tray. 

  “We’re really not in the truck right now,” you said, stumbling into Danny who reached back and grabbed your hand, the sensation becoming familiar to you.

  “Somebody must have moved the tube,” Merritt said, as you all moved through a set of doors into what looked like a restaurant, “Were we above a Chinese restaurant?”

  “I’m moving, relax!” Lula yelled at the man who was shoving her out of the kitchen. 

  “Okay, why are we here?” you demanded.

  “Why am I frickin’ starving?” Lula asked, staring at the Chinese food everywhere.

  “Yeah, I’m weirdly starving too,” Jack mused.

  At their words your own stomach growled, responding to the smell of noodles and stir fry surrounding you.

  Merritt moved towards the door, popping his head outside. 

  “Something’s very wrong,” you told Danny softly.

  He nodded, brows furrowed, “Yeah, I agree.”

  “At least,” Lula began as Merritt returned, “And I know this isn’t much consolation, but apparently we’re now surrounded by Chinese food. Right?”

  “Guys…” Merritt said and you all turned to look at him, “I think where we are right now, they don’t refer to it as ‘Chinese food’. It’s just called… food.”

  “Shit,” you muttered.

  “Wait, what are you saying?” Danny asked, “How is this possible?”

  A high pitched giggle directed all of your attention to the man with a perm sitting at the table nearest you, facing away with a menu held up in front of his face. 

  “I believe in your particular parlance, the word is ‘magic’.”

Taglist:

@pulling-out-my-eyes

[bobawitch]

The Different Stage (Jack Wilder x Reader)

warnings: fluff, mentions of stripping, suggestive situations.

A/N: i was rewatching the now you see me movies and I am absolutely obsessed with Jack Wilder so I thought I’d write a fic abt it. So in this reader is a stripper, she’s not a prostitute but she pole dances at a strip club and Jack goes in with Atlas and Merritt. Jack likes her and wants to actually get to know her. that’s basically it! Hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: 1307

Chapter 1:

It was just another night at the club. You had to work, in fact your hours had just about doubled since your rent went up. Though that’s just how it is in New York isn’t it. Thankfully you had done your last dance for the night and were packing up to go back to your crappy apartment. You pulled your hair up into a messy bun held together by a big clip. You walked back through the drinking area, the dancer scheduled after you had already taken the stage. You looked at her, smiling at her and waving, she smiled back. All the dancers were close, you all had to be to make sure no one got in trouble with a creepy customer. You turned to resume your journey home when you knocked into someone. A smooth male voice hit your ears and you found yourself face to face with these beautiful brown eyes. “Miss?” He spoke and you realized he had definitely said something else. The other two men that were with him eyed you before shrugging and walking to a table. “Oh uh, sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking.” You said before moving to the side to push past him. He let you leave but watched you very closely as you did leave. Then he found his friends. Jack sat down with Atlas and Merritt, still looking back at the door you had left from. Atlas nudged Merritt with a devilish grin. “Look Jack’s got a crush!” Jack smacked Atlas’s arm, his eyes not leaving the doorway for a few more minutes. “Shut up.” Merritt and Atlas laughed before their night went on.

The next day you found yourself thinking of the man you ran into. You had never seen him around the bar before but he looked so familiar. You tried to push the beautiful stranger from your mind as you got ready for your night. You chose a fan favorite dance tonight, with the fan favorite outfit too. You didn’t enjoy your job but you were damn good at it. You walked out onto the stage after their announcement of your stage name and the music began. It was your most popular song for stage dance, So High by Doja Cat. You slowly strutted to the pole, throwing one leg around and letting yourself swing around. Your arms stabilized you on the pole and your head made a slow circle. It was the first time you actually looked at the audience and when you caught a pair of chocolate brown eyes you nearly stopped your routine. It was the man from the night before. He had come with the other two men again though one was being escorted off for a private lap dance. You let your eyes linger on him as his eyes burned your skin with intensity. You slowly dragged yourself back up the pole before moving to the side of the stage. Fingers twisting together you dropped to your knees at the beat, crawling forward before touching up your torso as the chorus began. Soon you lost yourself in the music, temporarily forgetting about the candy-eyed man. After your performance you had groundwork to do, that of course entailed a costume change and small makeup touch up. Once you changed your outfit and pulled your hair to one side you walked out. You were headed to one of the tables in your area when you were stopped. A man had walked in front of you, causing you to look up. Once more you found yourself in an intense staring match with the handsome stranger. “Uh.. hi.” He said, obviously a bit flustered, You smirked and touched his shoulder, walking next to him. “Hello loverboy.” You replied, beginning to walk away, your finger signaling for him to follow behind you. Upon hearing his footsteps behind you, your smirk grew. You got to the bar and picked up a tray for one of the tables. The stranger finally caught up and leaned on the bar. “So what’s your name… y’know your real name?” He asked. You laughed, “I don’t give my name to customers, sorry sweetcheeks.” “Then who do you give your name to?” “Hm, let me think on that.” You winked at him before moving to the table you were to serve. You set down the drinks, chatting up the gentlemen at the table for a few moments. A few tips were made through that before you walked back to the bar, handsome stranger was waiting for you. “I’m Jack, by the way.” He said. “Alright Jack, you going to buy something or just keep talking to me?” You glanced at him, smirking again. “Hm, how much would a date cost?” His lips cracked into a smirk to rival yours. A sultry giggle escaped your lips before you shook your head. “Dunno, how much you willing to pay? And what do you want me to do for that date?” Out of the corner of your eye you saw him shake his head. You leaned against the bar now, looking at him and holding tense eye contact. His cheeks had gone a bit pink as you spoke but he composed himself as he replied. “No no, not that kind of date.” “Hm, how about I think about that? Maybe I’ll let you know at the end of my shift.” You shrugged, grabbing another drink tray before moving to deliver them. As you began to walk to the table one of Jack’s friends came over, obviously drunk as hell. “Heyy Jack! You found her! Great job!! Hey, how about I pay for a private lap dance huh?” He spoke, smirking at Jack and still blocking your path. Jack began to protest the idea of a lap dance, giving you an apologetic smile. You giggled a bit, his smile was kinda cute. But his friend had already pulled out the money and stuck it in your top string. You sighed, handing your drink tray to one of the other girls to deliver. Jack looked down at you when your hand pressed to his chest. “Well, come on loverboy, a lap dance was ordered.” You wrapped your fingers around his tie and pulled him off. “You don’t have to give me a lap dance, I’m so sorry about my friend.” He spoke in pure panic until you got to the booths for private lap dances. You turned and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. Hesitant hands found your hips and you smiled. You leaned in, your lips almost brushing against his before turning him around and pushing him into the chair. You climbed onto his lap, your thighs trapping him beneath you. You leaned down to his ear and whispered, “If you want me to stop, just say that.” As your words left your lips you began the dance. Your hips grinded gently in a circle, your hands dragging up his chest. Jack opened then closed his mouth, his hands not knowing where to touch. You leaned forward, pulling yourself up. Your chest was at his eye level yet his eyes stuck onto yours. You brought your hands around his head, playing with his hair. You dragged his head back, leaning into his neck to whisper. “I’m Y/N. And a date sounds nice, if you still want that.” Jack’s hands finally found your waist and he sat you down on his lap, looking at you with a different kind of intensity. “When do you get off?” “11.” “Let me get you food after work.” “You have a deal Jack.” You stood back up and pushed your hand onto his shoulder. Slowly you climbed off his lap and opened the curtain. “See you at 11 Jack.” You winked and walked off before he could get another sentence in.

[jb3islife]

Love is Like a Playing Card (J. Daniel Atlas) Chapter XXI

After Lula left, Sutton looked over at Danny, still engrossed in his thoughts as he sat on the chair. She walked towards him, crouching down in front of him. Sutton placed a hand over his phone. Danny looked up at her, his eyes showing his confusion. His lips parted to speak, but he was unable to.

“Just… let me do this, okay?” Sutton told him. Danny nodded, unsure of what she was about to do. Sutton sucked in a breath. She moved to her knees, making herself taller and eye level with Danny. Slowly, she scooted herself closer to him, her hands on his knees for support, afraid that she may pass out from her rapid heartbeats. Sutton sucked in another breath, moving her hands to Danny’s cheeks. She looked into Danny’s eyes, searching for an answer of some kind, whether she should or shouldn’t do this. With all the confidence she had, Sutton kissed Danny, their lips quickly finding their missed places, like two puzzle pieces.

Danny sat in shock for a moment. Once he finally realized what was happening, he pushed himself off the chair, sitting on his knees in front of Sutton. Danny’s arms wrapped around Sutton’s waist, drawing her as close to him as possible, missing the feeling of his body next to hers. Sutton’s body molded into his, her arms snaking around his neck.

After what felt like only meer seconds, Sutton pulled away from Danny. He stared at her, confusion, shock, and utter disappointment from the loss of her lips evident on his face. Sutton shimmied herself out of Danny’s arms, standing up. “Goodnight, Danny,” she smiled.

Sutton turned, heading toward one of the two bedrooms left, leaving Danny to his own thoughts. She put three fingers to her lips, smiling at the moment the two shared. Happiness tingled throughout her body from Danny’s touch.

Danny ran a hand over his face. He found himself laughing at the event that had just occurred. He shook his head, feeling his heart beating fast. Sutton just showed Danny how much she missed him, and how much she still wanted to be with him. She poured her heart and soul into one kiss, and it was everything Danny needed at that moment. It was everything he needed to become the man Sutton knew he truly was.

~~

The next morning, Sutton awoke to the sounds of others talking outside her room. She rubbed her eyes, groggily standing and walking out of the room.

“Shit!” she shouted as she bumped into someone.

“Good morning to you, too,” Danny smiled as he held Sutton’s elbow to support her.

Sutton smiled. “Seems like yesterday I was tripping over you to get to the bathroom.”

Danny chuckled. “Yeah. I wouldn’t trade those bruises for anything in the world.”

The two stood there for a moment, grins plastered on their faces. Danny brushed a few strands of hair out of Sutton’s face. “I always loved your bedhead.”

Sutton involuntarily leaned into Danny’s touch, his thumb absentmindedly grazing her cheek. “I always loved your morning voice.”

“Alright, who wants pancakes?” Merritt announced.

Danny and Sutton turned to see a large stack of pancakes on the counter, Jack and Lula already scarfing down their helpings. The two smiled at each other, walking over to join the group.

“Since when did I lose my cooking job to you, Merritt?” Sutton asked as Merritt poured her a glass of orange juice.

“Since I realized Jack and I couldn’t survive on your meals alone anymore,” Merritt answered. “And, well, those late night calls to you helped, too,” he winked.

Sutton giggled as Danny said, “Ah, yes, the “Merritt emergencies.” How could I have forgotten?”

“Hey, some of us weren’t blessed enough to move in with Sutton,” Jack retorted with a mouth full of pancake. Lula hit him, telling him to not talk with food in his mouth.

“Yeah, she’s pretty amazing,” Danny murmured, just loud enough for Sutton to hear. She smiled at Danny as he patted her bare leg in the shorts Walter “generously” supplied.

As the five of them ate, Danny looked over at Sutton. She pushed the last few bits of pancake around her plate, obviously becoming full. She elbowed Jack, telling him to finish it off, which he happily did. Sutton sipped her orange juice, scrolling through her phone. Danny smiled to himself, realizing that now was the perfect time to tell the others what had been happening and to show her he is trying to get better.

“So,” Danny said, pushing his plate away from him, “there’s something I need to tell you guys.” Sutton locked her phone as the others looked at him. Jack was still engrossed in his food, so Sutton slapped his hand to listen to Danny. Danny glanced at Sutton who looked at him in confusion. “I have been in contact with someone. Someone I believe to be The Eye.”

Merritt and Lula shouted as Jack murmured, “I already knew that,” and shoved another bite in his mouth. “I arranged for them to pick up the stick from us once we have it.”

“How could you not tell us that?” Lula questioned Danny.

Danny sighed. “I’ve been in contact with them for a while now. I’m not proud of it, okay? I thought I was doing what was right for the team. You know, taking charge, getting us out of hiding.”

“Controlling the situation,” Merritt scoffed, “as usual.”

“Guys, just listen to him,” Sutton pleaded, “please.” Jack and Merritt glanced at one another, nodding in silent agreement as they always did at Sutton’s request.

“I agreed to meet with them a few weeks ago, back in New York. I only did it because we,” he looked at Jack and Merritt, “agreed that we were only letting Dylan lead us on for another month, then we were done. We were taking matters into our own hands, remember?” Jack and Merritt sighed, recalling the conversation the three had without Sutton, but her being their soul focus. “I-I was afraid Sutton was going to leave me, leave us, next, if I didn’t do something.” He glanced at Sutton, her smile showing him how proud she was to hear him tell the truth. “So, when I got a message from The Eye, I took the chance. I wanted to help us. I did it for the team, I promise.”

The Horsemen sat in silence for a moment. “So, why didn’t you tell us, you know, when you got the first message?” Jack asked.

Danny sighed heavily. “I don’t know, honestly. All I could think to do was talk to these people, save us, save our sanity.”

“While I hate that you did this on your own, I do respect it,” Merritt told him, receiving surprised looks from everyone. “Sometimes, Atlas isn’t always the asshole we all know he is. Sometimes, he’s a little more like Sutton.” Merritt smiled at his young partner as she mouthed, “thank you.” Merritt nodded.

“So, these are definitely the same people you plan on giving the stick to, right?” Lula asked.

Danny nodded. “Definitely. They’re going to help us stay out of jail.”

“Thank God because this pretty face wouldn’t last a day in the slammer!” Lula exclaimed, pointing at Jack.

The others laughed. Sutton grabbed Danny’s hand, pulling herself toward him. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered, their fingers entwining like they once did.

Danny smiled, staring down at their hands. “That kiss last night,” he whispered, making Sutton bite her lip to hold back a smile, “it made me realize that I needed to tell them. I need to learn to trust them with everything that’s going on. I’m not in this alone.”

Sutton smiled. “You never were,” she reminded him, kissing his cheek.

[jessefandomunited]

Imagine that Atlas chooses you to be a volunteer in the horseman's return performance.

[lordfries]

Now You See Me [Ch I]

Characters - Bucky x F reader

Summary - In the unforgiving deserts of North Africa, 1942, you’ve spent months proving yourself as a nurse in an army that doesn’t quite know what to make of you. When Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes arrives with a reputation for charm and easy confidence, he’s everything you don’t have time for—until the realities of war force your paths to cross.

Word Count - ~20,000 (so far!)

Warnings - Fluff, eventual smut, angst, war themes, descriptions of injury, blood. Reads fairly gender neutral for the most part, but it is written to be F!Reader and that'll show during future naughty scenes ... Unless the people request a gn option!

El Bucko doesn't show up until the second chapter, so I'll post that immediately after and link below... The tag is NYSM lordfries, for those that don't want to see updates for it.

If you want to get the latest chaps, they're up on my Ao3!

You’re not entirely sure how this soldier has managed to get his left hand stuck inside an empty ordnance casing, but the absurdity of it hits you the moment you stride into the ward. Your jaw tightens, and your frown deepens as you take in the sight: a sheepish-looking young man sitting stiffly on the cot, his trapped arm resting awkwardly on his lap. When he sees you, he gives a small, apologetic wave with the encased hand.

His uniform is spotless, not a wrinkle in sight, and his boots gleam like they’ve just been polished—textbook “fresh recruit.” You suppress a sigh as you glance down at the clipboard in your hand, flipping a page for confirmation.

“Private…” you drawl, eyes flicking up to meet his as you find the name, “…Ambley, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His voice is eager, the kind of politeness that makes you suspect he’s trying to soften the blow of whatever lecture might be coming his way.

You read aloud from the clipboard, tone flat. “Presenting here due to an ‘unfortunate miscalculation of hand-eye coordination’?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nods earnestly, as if that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.

“And when, exactly, did this… miscalculation occur?”

“This morning, ma’am. Just after oh-eight-hundred.”

You inhale deeply, pressing your thumb and forefinger to the bridge of your nose as if it might physically help you process the absurdity. A muffled groan escapes you before you lower the clipboard onto the cot beside him and crouch slightly to inspect his arm. He smells faintly of soap and clean linens—two luxuries that feel nearly foreign to you now.

“Private,” you begin, gripping the metal casing and giving it an experimental tug, “I’m going to assume you and your friends exhausted every possible solution before deciding to grace the infirmary with this… situation.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. Absolutely. Me ‘n the boys tried everything we could think of.” He nods solemnly, rolling his shoulder with a theatrical wince. “It’s a bit sore now. Can’t be helped, I ‘spose.”

“Mhm.” Your scepticism is palpable.

This time, you pull harder, earning a strained grunt from the soldier.

Jesus… It’s really jammed in there.

You lean closer, tilting the contraption to get a better view as your brows furrow in frustration. For a moment, you try to imagine the sequence of events that led to this—was he just bored? Showing off? You almost laugh at the thought of him purposefully shoving his hand into the casing to avoid drills. The possibility feels less absurd the longer you think about it.

Still, you can’t entirely rule out that this was an accident. Maybe.

You straighten, tilting your head at Private Ambley as an idea begins to form. He watches you cautiously, the corners of his mouth twitching nervously at the sudden determination in your gaze.

“Stay here,” you instruct sharply, though there’s little chance he could wander off with his arm encased in half a bombshell. Grabbing the clipboard, you make a quick note before calling out to the orderly on duty.

“Corporal Ndoye!”

The man snaps to attention, leaning through the doorway. “Yes’m?”

“I need rifle oil, and plenty of it. Now.”

Ndoye raises a brow, looks past you to see Ambley grimacing and nods slowly. “D’accord. I’ll be right back.”

Private Ambley guffaws from behind you. “Rifle oil? That shit’ll stain my uniform, and I only just got ‘em.”

You glance back at him, arching a brow. “And yet, you’ve managed to lodge yourself in an empty ordnance casing, Private. So unless you’d like me to requisition a hacksaw, I suggest you trust the process.”

The corporal returns with a battered tin of oil, handing it over with a bemused look. You roll up your sleeves and set to work, placing a tray on Ambley’s lap before tilting his arm to pour a generous stream of oil around the rim of the casing. The private flinches, his shoulders drooping as the sleeve of his uniform blossoms darkly with the spreading oil.

“This might take a minute,” you mutter, rotating his arm carefully to ensure the oil spreads evenly. He sniffles, a faint sound of resignation. “Private, I can guarantee you’ll be getting much more than just rifle oil on these sleeves before long. Hold still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he croaks, looking like he’s already regretting every choice that led him here.

Once satisfied, you plant your feet firmly and take hold of the casing with both hands. “Alright, Private. On three. One… two…”

You yank sharply on two, catching him off guard. He yelps, jerking forward as the casing pops free, slipping out of your grip and clattering loudly onto the floor.

“Three,” you finish dryly, leaning down to retrieve the casing. Straightening, you hold up the greasy hunk of metal as Ambley cradles his liberated arm.

“You’re free to go,” you say, wiping your hands on a rag. “Though if I ever see you in here for something like this again, you’ll be scrubbing latrines for the rest of your deployment. And don’t even think about dripping that all over my floor.”

Ambley stares numbly at his oil-soaked arm, watching it drip into the tray. You return to your station, gathering your papers and reports.

“Uh, nurse?”

“… You’re still here, Private?”

“Can I get a towel?”

You sigh and pass him the rag, planting your hands on your hips as you watch him give a sheepish nod and shuffle out of the tent, dripping oil all the way to the exit.

***

The infirmary smells of antiseptic and dust, a strange mix of clean and gritty that clings to everything. You tighten your grip on a roll of gauze, shifting it deftly as you unwrap the old bandage from a soldier’s forearm. The work comes easily, your hands moving automatically, though your lips twitch at the sound of familiar footsteps.

“Bah, that Ambley.” Corporal Ndoye sighs, his voice carrying that signature mix of exasperation and amusement as he approaches. “Though, if there is a way to make a mess, I believe you will find it, no?”

You glance up briefly, raising an eyebrow. “If that were a talent, he’d be running this camp by now. Not me.”

Ndoye’s grin widens, showing teeth, and he leans casually against the edge of the nearest cot. “Perhaps he has hidden ambitions. One day, you will see, eh?”

You shake your head, tying off the fresh dressing with a precise knot. “If his ambitions involve using up the last of our supplies, then we’ll have a real problem.”

Ndoye chuckles, the sound rich and unhurried. “You are too kind,” he says, his tone amused. “The patience of a saint, I think. I would not last ten minutes with that one.”

“Patience has limits, Dan,” you reply, brushing past him to the supply cabinet. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but is there a reason you’re not at your post?”

Ndoye tilts his head, his hands resting loosely on his hips. “Ah, yes. I bring you news… Word around camp is that reinforcements are coming soon.”

You pause your ogling of the cabinet, glancing at him. “Reinforcements? From where? How many?” The thought twists uncomfortably in your mind, considering the lack of supplies and bare rations you’d all been living on already.

“From everywhere, it seems. America, England, Australie… Some from Brooklyn, even.” He smirks, tilting his head at you. You’d spoken to Ndoye of your hometown from time to time, describing the gritty streets, the scent of hot pretzels mingling with smoke from chimneys, and the way the borough never truly quiets, even in the dead of night. It was a world away from the sun-scorched camp you both now called home. He seemed to enjoy the stories too—a far cry from his quieter upbringing in Senegal. You’d grown fond of his stories as well, as fantastical and unbelievable as he often made them sound.

“Let me guess,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Heroes in their own minds?”

Ndoye laughs, a deep and infectious sound. “Perhaps. Or perhaps just more men trying to survive, like all of us. We will see.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress a small smile, closing the supply cabinet and leaning on it. “If they’re anything like Ambley, I’m filing for an early discharge.”

“Oh, no, no,” Ndoye says, shaking his head dramatically. “You cannot leave me here alone with these men. Vous êtes ma préférée, tu sais.”

“Favoritism isn’t very becoming of you, Corporal,” you reply, though your voice softens and you find yourself smiling anyway. You nudge the side of his arm lightly before turning back to your inventory. “Now go make yourself useful before someone decides to put you on latrine duty. You’re too clever to be shoveling shit.”

“Yes’m.” He grins, saluting lazily as he turns on his heel and strolls back to his post outside the tent.

***

The afternoon sun beats down mercilessly, turning the sand outside the infirmary into a shifting, golden glare that makes your eyes ache. Inside, the air is no better. Dust clings to the canvas walls and settles on every surface, mixing with the ever-present smell of antiseptic and sweat. You’ve long given up wiping it away—it’s a losing battle.

You pause your work to stretch your back, glancing toward the small table in the corner where someone left a tin cup of water. It’s lukewarm by now, but you drink it anyway, grimacing as the metallic tang coats your tongue. It’s the same water everyone else drinks, hauled in barrels from god-knows-where, and you try not to think about the strange taste.

Outside, the low murmur of voices drifts through the heavy air, punctuated by bursts of laughter that sound more forced than genuine. The men joke and jeer to pass the time, their voices rising and falling like the hum of insects in the desert heat.

You turn back to your task: reorganising the dwindling supply shelf. A neat row of bandages sits next to a tin of aspirin that’s been half-empty for weeks. The morphine ration is nearly gone, and you dread what will happen when the next serious injury comes in. A stack of neatly folded linens catches your eye, and you count them twice to be sure. Six. Barely enough to get through the week, let alone any emergencies.

A shadow falls across the tent, and you glance up to find Corporal Ndoye leaning against the entrance, his usual grin replaced with a more contemplative expression.

“Two visits from you this week. Now I really am starting to feel like a favourite. Is it a blister this time?” you ask, not bothering to hide your smirk as you set the needle down.

“Non,” he replies, stepping inside. “Though I am sure one of these fools will come running in with something soon. It’s been… quiet.”

The way he says it makes you pause. Quiet wasn’t always a relief in places like this—it could be the kind that preceded a storm.

You nod toward the supply shelf. “Quiet or not, we’re running low on just about everything. Any word on when those reinforcements might actually arrive?” You silently pleaded that with reinforcements, also came supplies.

He exhales, crossing his arms. “Two days, per’aps three. That is the rumour.”

“Rumours don’t fill stomachs or replace bandages,” you mutter, tugging at the edge of your apron nervously.

He chuckles softly, though there’s no humour in it. “No, they do not. But they give the men something to talk about. That is important, no?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of raised voices from outside cuts through the moment. Ndoye’s head tilts sharply, his expression hardening. Without another word, he strides toward the tent’s entrance, and you follow, curiosity prickling at your thoughts.

Outside, two soldiers stand chest-to-chest, their faces red with anger. One of them, a wiry young private whose name you can’t recall, gestures toward the water barrel while the other—a broad-shouldered corporal—glares down at him.

“I told you,” the corporal snaps, his voice low and sharp. “You’re done. Don’t take more than your share.”

“It’s my turn!” the private shoots back, his voice cracking with desperation. “You’ve been hogging it all morning!”

Ndoye steps between them before you can intervene, his presence commanding immediate attention. He doesn’t shout—he doesn’t need to. The corporal mutters something under his breath, backing off with a scowl, while the private stumbles away, muttering to himself.

The tension lingers in the air as Ndoye turns back to you, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Reinforcements cannot come soon enough.”

You nod, glancing toward the horizon. The camp feels smaller than ever, its routines fraying under the weight of too many days and too few resources. You wonder, not for the first time, if new faces will truly ease the strain—or if they’ll simply add to the burden.

***

The mess tent is stuffy, the heavy canvas walls barely blocking out the relentless afternoon sun. The air is thick with the smell of old coffee and damp fabric, and every seat at the makeshift tables is filled. Soldiers crowd together, some leaning forward on their elbows, others sitting back with arms crossed. You linger near the back, clipboard in hand, the edge digging into your palm as you try to gauge the mood.

The commanding officer stands at the head of the tent, his silhouette sharp against the light streaming in through the open flap behind him. Captain Barlow is a wiry man, all angles and precision, his voice clipped and sharp as he addresses the gathered men.

“As most of you have heard by now,” he begins, his tone brisk, “we’re expecting reinforcements within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

A murmur ripples through the room, and you catch snippets of conversation.

“’Bout time.”

“Think they’ll bring any decent food?”

“Bet it’s just more green recruits.”

Barlow raises a hand, and the voices die down. “Before anyone gets too comfortable with the idea, let me remind you that this isn’t a pleasure cruise. The reinforcements are here to bolster operations, not babysit. Supplies will remain tight until the next convoy arrives, so don’t expect miracles.”

That earns a few groans, and someone mutters loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Then what’s the point?”

Barlow’s gaze snaps to the speaker, a young private sitting near the middle. The room goes silent. “The point, Private, is that they’ll be picking up where some of your comrades left off. Or would you like to volunteer for double patrol duty instead?”

The private shrinks under the weight of the captain’s glare, mumbling a half-hearted apology.

Barlow exhales sharply, turning his attention back to the group. “We’ll be taking in a mixed contingent—American, British, and Free French. Among them is a sergeant who’s been noted for his leadership in field operations. I expect you to show the same respect you’d show your own.”

You notice a few raised eyebrows at that. Soldiers already worn thin by heat and hunger don’t tend to take kindly to new authority figures, especially ones with reputations that precede them. It also meant yet another officer for you to size up and promptly keep out of your infirmary’s business.

Someone from the far end of the table speaks up. “What about supplies? Are they bringing any extra rations, or are we supposed to stretch what little we’ve got?”

Barlow hesitates for the briefest moment before answering. “They’ll have their own initial provisions, but until the convoy gets through, we’re all operating on limited resources. Make it work.”

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch. A sergeant seated nearby folds his arms across his chest, his voice low and rough. “Reckon that means they’ll be eating our bread and sleeping in our cots. Nice of them.”

“Sure that shit’s mouldy, but it’s our mouldy bread.”

A smattering of bitter laughter follows, but it’s cut short by Barlow slamming his hand down on the table.

“That’s enough,” he barks. “These men are coming to do a job, the same as you. If anyone has a problem with that, they can see me directly.” His gaze sweeps the room, daring anyone to challenge him. No one does.

You feel the weight of their frustration pressing against your own unease. The reinforcements could be a lifeline, but they could just as easily upset the fragile balance the camp has clung to. Your mind drifts to the dwindling supply cabinet.

“Dismissed,” Barlow says finally, and the room begins to empty, soldiers filing out in clusters. The low hum of complaints picks up again as soon as they’re outside, the tension spilling back into the open air.

You linger near the edge of the tent, watching as Ndoye approaches, his expression unreadable.

“Thoughts?” he asks, leaning casually against one of the wooden poles supporting the structure.

You shrug, though the knot in your stomach betrays your attempt at nonchalance. “Hard to say. Would be nice to have some more hands on deck, mix things up. But I don’t know… They’re being incredibly vague about the supplies.”

He hums in agreement, his dark eyes scanning the dispersing crowd. “You’re not wrong. New faces bring new stories, new tempers. But perhaps they bring something else, too. Hope, maybe.”

You snort softly. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Ndoye tilts his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Always the skeptic.”

“Always the realist,” you correct. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Rodeo?” Ndoye tilts his head as you turn to leave.

“Rodeo. Erm… Horses, whips and cowboys and… You’ve really never heard of a rodeo?” You grin in disbelief, placing your hands on your hips.

“Why would you be whipping cowboys?” His eyes bore into you earnestly, though a smirk tugs on his lips.

“Dan…”

“Relax, mon chou. I jest.” He winks, striding past you. “Made you smile, though.”

You resolve to return to the infirmary. The supplies need organising again, and there’s no telling how the next few days will unfold.

Chapter II

[musicallisto]

𓂀 — 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐚; (jack wilder x f!reader)

anon requested: For your new year event can I request number 29 with Jack Wilder ( now you see me )?

song: havana (remix) - camila cabello & daddy yankee | 𝄞

summary: "And he didn't know her name, but he would have danced a thousand dances only to hold her for a second, and take the lingering memory of her warm skin back to America with him."

word count: 1.4k words

author notes: I have many, many MANY feelings about the depiction of Latin America as this tropical paradise in the USA’s backyard for (white) americans to enjoy, with local people as extras in the background (or there to either commit Drug Baron Crimes(tm) or be poor I guess), that is so prevalent in western media... and none of these feelings are good. I wanted to write this in a way that was respectful to Cuban people and culture and different from the usual US gaze, but I’m not Cuban myself, so I really hope it turned out alright. please tell me if there's anything insensitive, and if the Cuban slang is accurate!

features: drinking, flirting & sexual tension, some dialogue in Spanish.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐖 corners of the world that the FBI did not, as impossible as that sounded.

Or at least they had assured the Horsemen in the note they left on the dinner table of their Cuba hideout. While every government agent ripped their hair out, scrambling for an explanation as to how in the hell four million dollars vanish out of existence from an unconquerable Bank of America vault, they would be safe and unbothered in Havana… as long as they laid low.

And lay low they did. The first day, at least.

After Daniel had run out of card tricks and everyone had gotten tired of Guess-What-I’m-Thinking-About-Right-Now — a game only Merritt enjoyed, it seemed, the air in the house grew unbreathable with boredom… and Jack’s wallet heavy with possibility.

Besides, he’d heard from Lula when she’d gone out scouting the perimeter, there was a dimly-lit basement, under an innocuous hairdresser salon, that looked a lot like a clandestine bar calling his name — and a good time.

So there he was, Friday night, nine p.m. on the dot, dressed elegantly enough to be let inside while not drawing suspicion, followed by a diluted scent of cologne and the fading light of the lampposts. The heat of the day still sizzled on the pavement when he strode down the stairs and knocked on the door, giving himself as detached an air as he could; judging by the glance he received through the hidden visor at eye level, before he was let in, he had been more convincing as a local than he had thought.

The sweet smell of alcohol permeated the room, all low roof and dark walls, but lit here and there by discreet lamps and thunderous laughter. The music, already, more than the smell, intoxicated him; a sensual sound of salsa which leaked from the brass of the band and wrapped around him like a thick heat. Not far from the bar, the tables had been pushed aside to make room for pairs of dancers; they swayed around like undulating sunbeams, laughing out loud; and Jack could not refrain his smile. Oh, how the others would regret not crashing this party.

His smile, however, waved when she walked past him without a glance in his direction, striding with purpose toward the bar.

He blinked, swallowed hard, resumed his breathing, picked up his derailed heartbeat; but he couldn't take his eyes away from her legs, her figure, her confidence as she marched to the bartender. For a second, he questioned if she had been real, or merely a trick of the light - for surely a bronze and gold idol could not have come alive before his eyes.

Then a surge of panic came over him when she sat on a stool and raised an arm and a smile at the bartender. Regardless of who she was, or even if she was - Jack could not let her go.

"¡Gabi! Ponme un ron con hielo!"

"Ahora mismo, guapa."

"Aseré, ¿qué bolá, Y/N? Ño, ¡cuanto tiempo!"

Trying his best to catch the bartender's attention amidst the tide of joyous celebrations, Jack snapped his fingers and gestured at himself, unsure of what he was ordering - but at least the bartender nodded curtly and disappeared behind the counter. Taking a seat on the stool, Jack exhaled deeply... and found himself face to face with the gorgeous stranger he had been struck by.

His mind went blank once more as she stared at him, the faintest hint of amusement gleaming in her perfect eyes, and it took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize she had asked him something in Spanish - an even longer moment to gather up the flimsy memories he had from high school.

"Uh... Lo siento..."

But she interrupted him immediately with a flick of the wrist and a little laugh, clear and bright like a bell. At least there was no irritation on her traits, just a little bit of surprise.

"Oh, you have quite the nerve coming along because not many people love gringos around here. You better have a solid reason to crash the party."

"I'm hiding from the FBI?"

Her laughter rang out once more, sincere and vast enough to engulf the two of them and make him forget the unfamiliarity of the situation.

"As they all do."

Her finger danced its way up to his arm, agonizingly slow, like a little teasing insect, and Jack gulped hard. Never had he felt more thankful for a drink than when the bartender slid both rums across the table.

"What did you do? Hacked the president's phone and stole the nuclear codes? Plotted a communist revolution?"

"I stole four million dollars from the Bank of America... from a television set. Live audience and all."

She opened her eyes wide, two pearls shimmering with all the laughter and mirth that made him crazy for this unfamiliar country, and what might have been the tiniest bit of amazement, too.

"Really? Any chance I can find this on YouTube?"

"Probably. But please don't look it up, my hair was horrible that day."

She smiled, scoffed a little bit, bringing the glass to her lips — but her unwavering gaze remained on the mysterious foreigner and his alluring uncertainty, like someone who pretends to act all tough and detached to conceal a terrible secret. Jack only noticed she had edged closer to him when she set the glass down, and it was as though the dimly lit air of the basement had rearranged in a pulsating bubble around them, shielding them from prying eyes and the incessant laughter and music — a beating, amber heart.

She licked her lips, and he tried to keep his eyes from lingering on them too long.

"So, tell me. What does one do with that much money, exactly?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I thought I'd have a lifetime to figure it out. Moving to a beautiful country... starting a new life... meeting exciting people."

She leaned even closer to him, her arms resting either side of her frame, cupping her cleavage just enough for it not to be completely unintentional; Jack averted his gaze, but his cheeks caught fire at the thoughts that had possessed him for an instant. Who in this damn party thought it would be a good idea to turn the heating on?

"What's your name, mister millionaire?"

She purred in a low voice, yet all he could hear in the clandestine bar was her, the delicious cascades of salsa only playing in the back of his mind; with her head tilted to one side, her perfect lips curled in a devilishly interrogative question, her perfect fingers wrapped around her drink, she was a tigress on the prowl... and Jack had never been so eager to be a prey.

"Jack Wilder."

"Well, Jack... this is my turf. My rules. So I suggest you do precisely as I say..."

Her fingers skipping over the fabric of his shirt, each lingering imperceptibly longer than the last, sending a shiver shooting through Jack's every last nerve... she smiled again. A smile worth turning himself in for. A smile he would send it all to hell just to taste...

"Dance with me."

No sooner had he nodded than she had already leaped on her feet, unbothered by the creases and folds on her tight dress, and had extended a hand out to him. Far from it being broken, the equilibrium of their secluded conversation seemed to have followed her when she rose, as though she commanded the ochre shadows of the bar. Maybe she was much more than she let on. Maybe he wasn't the only one with a price on his head...

And he didn't know her name, but he would have danced a thousand dances only to hold her for a second, and take the lingering memory of her warm skin back to America with him.

He followed her to the center of the room, dazed by the languorous sound of a brass orchestra, and his breath hitched in his throat when she took his hand and placed it on the crook of her hip with a decided readiness.

"If you behave, I might show you around."

The music picked up, and her shadow on the bronze wall behind with it.

Jack was the elusive magician, a slither in the crowd, an illusion and a mist — but how could he behave when he had tangled himself in a dance, a furious heartbeat, a sorceress' nets?

tagging; @fives-cup-of-coffee @softeninglooks (all my writing)

[plus-size-reader]

Trust

Jack Wilder x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1477 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: The others not telling you about the plan to keep it from coming out and you have to deal with finding out he's not dead until after

——————————————————————————————————

Someone should have told you.

They should have told you the truth about what they were planning, but evidently, that didn’t cross any of their minds as you jumped into that shoot, with Jack staying behind.

You barely got to say goodbye to him, only giving him a quick kiss on your way out, before the FBI headed up the staircase. You thought you knew what was going on, thought you had a plan, but you were wrong.

The crash could have been heard down the block, and when the car exploded, it was a miracle you missed it.

However, it was only a matter of time before the news of Jack’s death could reach your ears, and once it did, everything else came crashing down around you.

When you agreed to be a part of this whole thing, to be a horseman, you didn’t hear a thing about something like this. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but now that it had, nothing else mattered to you. The magic meant nothing if you didn’t have him.

Nothing mattered if you didn’t have him.

“Why did we leave him? Why did it have to be him?!” you yelled, gingerly grabbing ahold of Daniel’s shoulders as you tried to understand how it had gotten this out of hand.

This was never part of the plan, he wasn’t supposed to get hurt.

“You just have to trust me” he whispered, but you didn’t care for any of that. All you wanted to do was get out of this cab and go do something, but there was nothing you could do.

Jack was dead, nothing was going to change that.

“Trust you? You want me to trust you? Trusting people got Jack killed, I’m not doing that anymore”

There were no words for what you were feeling, nothing you could do to change what you were going through, and you made up your mind. At this very moment, you were over it.

You didn’t care about the eye, you didn’t care about the magic, you didn’t care about any of it. Without Jack, even making magic wasn’t going to even be what it was.

Everything was ruined.

All you could do now was sit here and wait for this whole nightmare to be over. Maybe then, you’d be able to finally catch your breath and just do what normal people did. Maybe then, you’d be able to mourn the man you loved.

It was the least you could do for him, after everything.

~

It was Daniel’s idea for you to stay behind with the armored truck, tucked away behind a pane of glass that would keep it hidden from the peering eyes of any guards or feds that happened upon it.

They would see the second truck, the decoy, and just assume that it was the one with all the money in it. Then, when Henley, Merritt, and Danny finally finished up the big finale, they would come get you and all the money.

All you had to do now was wait, and really, you had no problem with that.

After the day you’d had, the last thing you wanted was to have to put on your stage persona and make it all okay again. You were more than happy to just wait here, until it was all over.

It wouldn’t hurt anything if you just sat it out.

Besides, this way, you could personally oversee the cash and make sure that nothing happened to it.

In the plans you’d been given, every single detail was perfectly laid out, so that if you followed them blindly, it would go off without a hitch.

Keeping you in the dark had been Daniel’s idea. He didn’t want to risk Jack’s death not looking real, and having his girlfriend perfectly fine after he burned to death would be a definite problem.

You had to think it was real so the public would too.

They all knew how close the two of you were, and as much as it hurt the other horseman to lie to you, it just had to happen that way.

This was all bigger than each of you individually, after all.

That was all you had to keep in mind.

You had been sitting on the floor, cross legged and ignoring the outside world when you heard it.

There was talking on the other side of the glass.

...but that wasn’t possible.

You were the only one who knew the glass was here, so for anyone to be here already meant that something had gone wrong.

Atlas was supposed to page you if things like this happened, but you didn’t get anything. Whatever this was, you were just going to have to deal with it yourself.

Though, when you realized what it was behind that thin pane of glass, dealing with it seemed to be the furthest thing from your mind.

“Step back. I’m gonna break it”

It was nothing more than a command from the other side, something you knew better than to argue with.

However, even if you wanted to, you weren’t sure that you could have. That voice, it wasn’t just one you recognized, it was one you never thought you’d hear again.

It was Jack.

Even thinking about it, you felt like you were out of your mind, because it wasn’t possible.

Crazy or not though, you would’ve known that voice anywhere. It had to be him.

You had no idea what was going on, and your head was spinning, but you didn’t have much time to mull it over before the glass was shattered all around you. It didn’t pose any danger to you from where you were behind the armored truck, but you heard it break from where you were.

...and standing there, in the midst of all that broken glass, was Jack.

You weren’t crazy.

It didn’t make any sense, and you couldn’t have ever seen it coming, but you knew it was him. In your heart of hearts, you just knew.

He was alive.

Jack was alive.

You wanted more than anything to go to him, to say something, to do something, but there was nothing to do.

Ten minutes ago, you thought that he was dead. Seeing as that wasn’t the case, you weren’t really sure where to go from here. It wasn’t something you could have planned for.

“Holy shit”

It was all he could muster up in the moment, but in his defense, he hadn’t been expecting you. When Daniel told him what his role would be in this whole thing, he initially thought he would be alone.

“I know” you shrugged, hoping that this would somehow make you hate this less. You had been blindsided this whole time, mourning the death of a man you loved when he wasn’t dead to begin with.

You felt like an idiot.

Not only that but now that he was here and you had a second chance to tell him all the things you wanted to tell him, you were coming up blank. You had no idea where to go from here.

There just weren’t words for situations like this. It wasn’t like you had an instruction manual for this kind of thing.

“I thought you were dead, you aren’t dead? How are you not dead? I saw you explode” you asked, each question coming faster than the last. You had no idea what was going on, and you felt like your head was spinning.

This was too much.

“I was all part of the plan, did they not tell you?” Jack questioned this time, making that decision from the second he saw your face. He was going to kill Daniel as soon as he saw him.

What would the point of lying to you be? From where he was sitting, you never should have been in this position. You were the love of his life, but for some reason, no one told you that he was alive.

It didn’t make any sense.

“No. Evidently, I’m out of the loop” you huffed, doing your best not to lose your mind over this. You had only been crying your eyes out for days, and planning your life without him.

It wasn’t something you wouldn't just be able to get over, that would be insane.

“I’m so sorry baby, I should have told you” he sighed, gingerly wrapping you up in his arms, pressing a small kiss to your forehead and then another to your lips. If he’d known they weren’t going to tell you, he could have been prepared for this and you wouldn’t have been so blind sighted.

Right now, he couldn’t make it up to you but as soon as this whole thing was over with, it would be like it never happened. Besides, maybe you’d feel better after you kicked Danny’s ass.

[myriadimagines]

[x] // requester: @tinypeculiar (edited) // request here

IMAGINE: DATING HENLEY, AND HER ASKING MERRITT, YOUR DAD, FOR PERMISSION TO MARRY YOU.

“Merritt,” Henley starts, shooting him a look to indicate that the conversation is of upmost seriousness. She opens her mouth to continue, but Merritt stops her, waving his hand as he narrows his eyes at you.

“No, no, let me guess,” Merritt insists, and Henley resists the urge to roll her eyes. She needs to get on your father’s good side, anyway, so she figures she’ll put up with this. Squaring his shoulders, Merritt studies Henley’s expression, before saying, “You’re going to propose to y/n, aren’t you?”

Henley’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything to deny it. Merritt chuckles, before revealing, “I saw you searching up rings on your phone.” 

“Oh, come on.” Henley laughs, shaking her head at herself. Raising an eyebrow at Merritt, she confesses, “Okay, you got me. Do I have your blessing?”

Merritt grins at her. Although the romance that blossomed between the two of you was unexpected, Merritt has never seen you happier. “Yes you do, Henley, yes you do.”

[alwaysbethesmartestguyintheroom]

They try to braid your hair (Danny and Jack mini-imagines?)

Danny:

It was a rather dead day for the four horseman, they finally got a break after their big show that lead to their “disappearance”. You and Danny were sitting in the living room watching reruns of your favorite tv shows. You were seated on the floor with your back leaned up against the couch. Danny was sitting on the couch directly above you. He was playing with your hair. Something he always did. It helped calm him down. You could tell he was trying to braid it because his fingers kept getting wrapped up in strands of your hair. “Dang it.” You heard him say under his breath. “I wish I had a magic trick for this. I don’t know how you do it everyday Y/N.” You laughed a little and turned so you were facing him. “Years of practice my dear.” You said taping his nose lightly with your finger. He just scrunched his nose and smirked at you. He was adorable that way. You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “Let’s go get some food yeah?” You asked him. “Sure, why not.” Danny replied and the two of you grabbed your coats and walked to the nearest Chinese takeout place.

Jack:

You guys were on the jet headed to the next destination. You sat on the ground messing around with jacks cards trying to figure out his tricks. You just didn’t know how he did it. “You know that might be easier if your hair wasn’t in your eyes.” Merritt laughed. “Oh you try doing it grandpa.” You snapped back. “Oooh.” You heard your boyfriend jack say as he waltzed back into the area you were currently sitting in and sat in the chair behind you. “But seriously babe, I think Merritts right. Do you want me to pull back your hair for you and then I’ll show you some tricks?” You smiled at him but rolled your eyes. “Sure. Why not.” You handed him a hair tie. Jack separated your hair into three parts trying to do a braid. You could hear him mutter under his breath. “This one over top of that one and that one goes there..done!” He said tieing it off. You felt small pieces of your hair fall out of the braid. “It’s harder than it looks.” You reassured him. “Thanks for trying though.” You smiled at him and kissed him on the nose. “Now... for those tricks...” you said blowing a strand of hair out of your face. He just laughed and kissed you on the cheek. “Of course.” He said getting out of his chair and sitting directly across from you on the floor. The two of you spent the rest of the time practicing card tricks and laughing at each other.

A/N: sorry this is so bad. I’m a little rusty and this is the first time I’m writing for NYSM. Requests are open if you’d like. So yeah.

[the-fandom-abyss]

Henley Reeves Masterlist

[Fluff ♡] [Angst ❀] [Smut ☆]

Fics:

📍Tarot Card Prophecy ❀/♡

[heliads]

Lisa my love! I hope you don’t mind me sending another request (for none other than Jack Wilder again of course) — but how about a Jack x reader meet-cute situation, maybe she’s a barista at the coffee shop he likes to visit, and he definitely thinks she’s more than cute but reader is a little oblivious to that fact. But she doesn’t recognise him at first, (i can imagine a co-worker going “GIRL that was Jack Wilder!” and she’s like “who now?”). Jack ends up becoming a regular and the two get to know each other outside of the coffee shop setting (I’m also imagining he’d try to teach her card tricks and it’d just be so !!!!!! absolute fluff). Sorry, this request doesn’t have a SINGLE coherent thought in it, it’s literally so silly but I love this man bfhvdjhfvdn

anything for the boy

'wake me up' - jack wilder

masterlist

Nothing has ever made you want to drink coffee less than working in a coffee shop. Whether or not you’ll actually stop is purely up to your own moral strength, of course, but you’re reminded daily of why you would make such a choice whenever you clock in to your latest shift at your local coffee shop. The sight of so many exhausted people who seem to prefer snapping at you to actually taking accountability in their own lives is depressing, to say the least. 

Still, you keep working there. You always do. It’s satisfying in itself, as far as jobs go, and your coworkers are funny enough that the time always passes faster than expected. It’s not bad. And sometimes, on rare days like today, you end up meeting someone with the power to change your life forever.

The funny thing is, you almost missed him. The shop was crazy busy when he came in. You would find out later that the people were only crowding into the shop and lining up down the block because of him, but you hadn’t known that at the time. You had just chalked it up to word of mouth, maybe enough people had finally appreciated the expert level of care you and your coworkers put into their lattes and decided to show up and see what’s what. 

You certainly hadn’t counted on the cute boy who came bounding through the door of your shop, sending the bell fixed to the top into a commotion matching the hubbub surrounding the tables inside. Your first thought was that he seemed energetic enough that ordering coffee was unnecessary. Your second thought, as he breezed up to you, ready to order, was that you certainly didn’t mind your job anymore if it brought you faces as pretty as his. 

For a complete stranger, he seemed very sure of himself. He had paused for a moment before speaking, as if waiting for you to burst into applause at the sight of him. When it became clear you weren’t going to fall into raptures, he just shrugged and rattled off his order. The words were perfectly cadenced, probably memorized. You wrote it down like normal. Routines can be tedious on both ends, even if two perfect strangers are meeting for the first time. Sometimes, you don’t know that the course of your life has been irrevocably affected until much later. You certainly didn’t know it then.

You had guessed that something was strange, though. You had asked what name he wanted with the order and the young man had blinked at you in surprise, as if he couldn’t fathom the possibility that you wouldn’t know who he was. You’re familiar with the regulars of the coffee shop, so you knew he wasn’t one of them. Still, he seemed so stunned that you didn’t recognize him already. In a good way, though. With the way he smiled at you as he said, “Just Jack, thanks,” you got the feeling that he thought quite a lot about you was good.

Jack’s order wasn’t too complicated, so you were able to finish it quickly, which he seemed to appreciate. Even after he moved out of line to wait for his coffee, Jack had still hung around the counter, eyes nervously darting around the room as if he expected someone to jump out at him. From the few glances you were able to sneak as you poured and mixed ingredients, you almost thought he was right to worry. All these tables of girls kept whispering and giggling to each other, staring back at him with this outright, unusual intensity.

You had no idea why he was seemingly being stalked by so many people, but he was cute, so maybe that would do it. There’s a college campus across town, maybe he was on a varsity athletics team or something. You called his name and several people perked up. No one looked happier than Jack, though, and he eagerly slid over to you so he could pick up his drink.

You raised an eyebrow at his excitement, unable to hide a small smile. “Really looking forward to that coffee, huh?”

Jack had the presence of mind to blush a little. “I just want to hit the road as soon as I can.”

You took an obvious look past him. “I think I can understand that. What did you do, announce that you’d be giving away free kittens or something?”

Jack chuckled, absentmindedly scratching the back of his head. “Not quite. Do you– do you not know who I am?” He gave this pained half-laugh as he said it, like he could tell that saying something like that didn’t make him come off as the nicest.

He was cute enough that it worked, though. Cute and charming. He could get away with anything. Later, you’d learn that he usually did.

“No,” you said, and his entire face had lit up. Strange. “I’m not a mind reader,” you reminded him, “I won’t know your name unless you tell it to me.”

“Well,” he had said slowly, “I won’t mind saying it again. Maybe tomorrow morning?”

You had laughed. “I’ll see you then.”

Jack had all but beamed at you, turning around to smile at you one last time right before exiting the shop. You’d watched him go with a soft smile, shaking your head to yourself as you headed back to get the next customer’s order.

When you started mixing up the next drink, though, one of your coworkers turned to you, practically shrieking in your ear with the force of her excitement. “Am I dreaming, or was that Jack Wilder?”

You glanced at her, confused, as you reached for the oat milk. “Who?”

Your coworker’s eyes widened in horrified shock. “You must be joking. Jack Wilder? Of the Horsemen?”

You had frowned at her. “Like the four that bring about the apocalypse? He seemed nice enough to me, I doubt he’s going to bring pestilence or death upon our coffee shop.”

Your coworker had shaken her head, her eyes flickering briefly shut as if praying for strength. “No, Y/N, the Horsemen are a world famous group of magicians. They’re like, crazy good. During a show, they once robbed a bank on the opposite side of the globe.”

“So they’re criminals,” you muttered, eyebrows raised, “They sound like lovely people, then. Should I check the credit card he paid with? Maybe it was a playing card instead and I didn’t notice.”

She rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t do that, obviously. They’re like magical Robin Hoods, they only steal from banks and bad rich people and stuff like that. Jack Wilder is a celebrity, if that’s what it takes to get through to you. He’s like, the hottest one of all of them.”

“That I can agree with,” you had grinned to yourself. He was really good looking, and sweet at the same time. 

You found yourself sincerely hoping that he would come back the next morning, although the odds of that had to be low. If Jack really was a world-class celebrity, he’d probably jet across to a new country by the end of the day. He probably wouldn’t stay in one place that long, especially given the questionable legality of his day job. Coming back to the same small coffee shop was practically out of the question.

And yet, when you open up the next morning, you find yourself idly glancing outside the front window every few minutes, constantly checking to see if there’s a cute magician slipping inside your shop. Each peek down the street is rewarded with the sight of faces that aren’t his, though that doesn’t stop you from looking again.

Eventually, you decide that he’s not coming after all and there’s no point in continually craning your neck to see past the people huddled outside the main window, trying to talk themselves out of purchasing a pastry. It is only now, when you let down your guard, that you see someone approaching the counter out of the corner of your eye and announce, as if this were some great, life-changing thing:  “I’m back.”

For anyone else, this would be obnoxious. However, the cute boy beaming at you did make you a promise, so it is quite important that he would be here to honor his word. You end up smiling back at him in silence for a beat too long. It takes your coworker pointedly looking at the line growing behind Jack for you to remember yourself.

“Right, right. Coffee. What can I get you this morning?”

He looks bashfully behind him, as if only realizing that it’s not just the two of you in here, too. “Um, maybe a double shot vanilla latte? Oh, and can you draw something on the top?”

You hum as you write down the order. “Any ideas, or is the art my choice?”

Jack winks at you. “I’d love your number, but that might be too long. How about a heart, since you’ve already got mine?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but you do your best to keep your cool. “That’s sweet. Do you flirt with all your baristas like this?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he promises. Maybe Jack’s magic isn’t just in card tricks, but in his smooth moves as well. 

As he turns around to find someplace out of the way to wait for his drink, your coworker openly stares at you, jaw dropped. “What was that?” She asks under her breath, grinning.

You just shrug, although you can’t seem to stop your lips from curling up into a poorly hidden smile. “No idea.”

Jack thanks you for his drink when it’s ready. You weren’t brave enough to give him your number, assuming he was just joking around. He’s a celebrity, you remind yourself. He could probably conjure up Margot Robbie’s number if he really wanted it. He’s not going to go for you if he could have anyone on the planet.

However, when you slide over his coffee and he immediately checks the design in the foam, pretending to pout when he sees no identifying string of digits, you start to wonder if he wasn’t kidding after all. It certainly seems that way when he shows up the next morning, and the next morning, and the next. Jack is turning into a regular, which you didn’t expect. You figured he would sweep from city to city like the rest of the Horsemen, but for some reason Jack seems inclined to stay.

He insists on getting your number about a week later, and says he won’t leave the shop until he gets it. He pretends to handcuff himself to the chair of his favorite spot, pulling the metal cuffs out of thin air and grinning at your surprised reaction. You make him stay there, locked in place, for a few more minutes just to mess with him, but in the end he walks out with your number, and when you leave that night, you find a card tucked into the pocket of your apron. 

It’s the queen of hearts, although the image is less entrancing than the phone number scrawled across the front. Just in case I lost yours by accident, says the note on the back. You press it to your heart, trying to stop yourself from audibly squealing. You had promised that you wouldn’t fall for him, but it’s getting increasingly difficult to keep your word. 

Especially not when you get a text some time later that night:  Get home safe? Then:  This is Jack. Although I hope you wouldn’t be confusing my number with other handsome men who also wanted to see you.

In the safety of your room, you’re free to lightly kick your heels back and forth like a kid with a schoolgirl crush. No other admirers. Just you.

Just the way I like it, is the answer, practically only a few heartbeats after your text. You might actually end up loving him if he’s not careful.

Jack comes in the next morning looking far too pleased with himself. In fact, he even goes so far as to ask when you get off work that day. He says he wants to see you without other customers getting in the way. You remind him that he, too, is a customer, and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, asking if you want him to be something else. You don’t deign to respond to that, but you think your self-conscious smile does enough talking. He certainly laughs like it does.

Jack ends up taking you out to lunch. He makes you laugh the whole time, looking proud of himself every time he manages to elicit so much as a smile from you. He tells you stories about all the fantastic jobs he’s taken as a Horseman, even attempts to teach you a card trick or two. Several dropped decks later, both of you can freely admit that he’s got more of a knack for sleight of hand than you, but his hands have been over yours in the name of teaching his trade often enough that neither of you much mind.

It’s getting harder and harder to pretend that this is just a game to him. You do ask him once, as he’s dropping you off at your door, if he really does want this. You. Everything. Jack looks softly at you once, eyes containing all the secrets he couldn’t possibly put into words if he tried, and then he kisses you sweetly, slowly, and you know. Jack Wilder could have the whole world in his hands, but as it turns out, the only thing he wants from it is you. He’ll convince you of that as often as it takes. You can’t wait to watch him try.

requested by @hiya-itsamber, i hope you enjoy!

now you see me tag list: @mayfieldss

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[hermionegalathynius]

Found Family (5/?)

I cannot tell you all how much your support of my writing means to me. I’m so sorry this took so long. If I’m being honest, the next part might take even longer (just because I’m busy with college exams and uni applications… the stress levels are REAL high right now) but I want you to know I love reading your comments and I smile every time someone reacts to my posts. Anyway, here we go!

Fandom: Now You See Me

Pairing: Daniel Atlas x Reader

Warnings: some swearing, read at your own discretion.

  “Can’t we all — just once — stay in the same place for more than a few weeks at a time?” you sighed, climbing in the back of the car with Merritt and Danny. 

  “I agree that that would be nice, but currently we have no control over where we go and when. Literally, considering we entered the tube in New York and were spat out in Macau,” Danny said, letting you rest your head on his shoulder tiredly. 

  “It’s all about blind spots,” Merritt’s brother said once the car began moving through the streets of Macau, “When you’re staring straight at something and not see it. Why? Blind spots! We learnt that together, didn’t we, bro?”

  Merritt grunted, staring blankly at the floor. You nudged his foot with yours gently, trying to comfort him. He flashed a small, grateful smile. 

  “Did he tell you that we were partners, once?” Chase continued, “No? I didn’t think so. The ‘Mini-McKinneys’.”

  “Cool,” Lula said flatly.

  “And then one day, we were 12, and Virginia von Welsheim had a very nice party down the street. I had a little tum-tum, couldn’t go. Mer-Bear did it on his own and got a taste of the solo thing, and uh… and kicked me to the curb.”

  “Oh god,” Danny muttered. You nudged him in the side for insensitivity. 

  Merritt sighed, “Chase, you win! I concede. Just tell me how you did it.”

  Chase grinned, “Delivery came to your door about a month ago… a little za?”

  “Za?” Danny asked.

  “Pizza,” Merritt told him, then addressing his brother, “Huh?”

  “Yeah, so what he did, my little womb-mate, is he downloaded all of your private information and my employer had all he needed.”

  You could feel Danny glaring at Merritt for accusing him of being the leak. You rolled your eyes at his ability to hold a grudge. 

  “Thanks,” Danny said to Merritt sarcastically, then turning to Chase, “How did you know how to find him?”

  “That’s a very good question, Atlas,” Chase said, miming locking his mouth closed and throwing away the key. 

  “Okay,” Danny said, frustration bleeding from his tone. 

  “Danny, I swear to god, don’t make Merritt feel worse about this than he already does,” you whispered so only he could hear. 

  “He’s a hypocrite, Y/n,” Danny hissed.

  You just took your head off his shoulder and shifted away from him, too angry to care about how tired you were in that moment. Why couldn’t he just let it go? 

  The car pulled in to what looked like a casino and stopped at the front door. The Horsemen got out, flanked by more armed guards. 

  “Just follow the guards, they’ll take you to my boss,” Chase said with a grin, “Been fun playing this cat-and-mouse with you, broski. Meow.”

  Merritt rubbed his eyes with his middle fingers. You found a grim sort of satisfaction in that. 

  “Have fun at the Sands,” Chase called as the car pulled away again and you were escorted into the casino. 

  “I am so, so, so sorry,” Merritt said to Danny. You watched wearily from behind them, hoping Danny swallowed his pride for once. 

  “Yeah, you should be.” Of course not. “Don’t ever accuse me of betraying us again, okay?”

  You scoffed, quickening your steps to walk past him and get him out of your eyesight. Unfortunately, the guards led you to an elevator where you were forced to stand in the back and watch as Danny walked in and caught your eye, cocking his head at your glare, and resting his hand against the wall. Your heart thumped loudly at the sight, adding to your frustration. God dammit, he was not allowed to look that good when you were angry with him!

  “Do you guys ever think that the Eye is watching this?” Lula asked next to you, breaking the sullen silence, “You know, that maybe this is even what they want? And at the exact right moment they’re going to swoop in, and we’ll be like, ‘Yes! Thank God you’re here! Thank God! Just in the nick of time, Eye!’ And then we’ll just celebrate, and it was all worth it in the end?”

  Silence. You swallowed, still gazing at Danny. 

  “I don’t even really think that either, so… It’s cool.”

  The elevator door pinged, and opened up behind you. Some sort of rock music blared as the five of you turned around. A man stood in front of huge, floor-length windows looking out on Macau. His leg jerked in time with the music as he flicked a playing card back and forth between his hands. 

  You were shoved out of the elevator by the guards as the man turned around and exclaimed, “Ah! Ta-da! So happy to be working with you! Please, come in, come in!”

  The guards shoved you further, and you winced as one of them elbowed you in the ribs, a soft huff leaving your mouth. 

  “Hey! Hands off her, buddy,” Danny said, stepping between you and the guard. You swallowed down the warmth blooming in your chest at his words, desperately trying to cling to the anger you had held for him just moments earlier. It was a pointless exercise, but damn you if you didn’t try. 

  “Wait, sorry, how are you working with us?” he asked, still standing in front of you which forced you to peer at the stranger over his shoulder. 

  “Oh, well, as much as a magician who pulls a rabbit from a hat is working with that rabbit,” the man explained, pulling on a pair of very expensive looking slippers and walking over his koi-pond floor, “We'll be working together. Yes. Allow me to introduce myself.”

  “Yeah, you’re Walter Mabry,” you stated, stepping out from behind Danny. 

  “You died a year ago,” Jack clarified. 

  “Yes!” Mabry exclaimed, “An idea I got from you, Mr Wilder! Fake your death and the world puts its guard down.”

  You glanced at Lula who stood to your left — she seemed just as overwhelmed as you felt. 

  “I’m able to control quite a few companies, including my old partner Owen’s, as a consortium of so-called anonymous shareholders,” Mabry continued. 

  “And that violates how many SEC laws?” Lula asked. 

  “I believe it breaks all of them,” Mabry answered casually. 

  “All of them,” Lula repeated dryly.

  How could everything have gone so wrong, you thought, dread curling in your gut. This man was obviously unstable, and had no qualms with breaking laws and risking going to jail. Who knew what he was really capable of when pushed?

  “You see, you all want an audience. Need one, desperately. It’s quite sad really,” he directed this at Danny who’s jaw twitched in irritation. You gripped his wrist gently, silently begging him to keep his cool, “I, on the other hand, want the opposite of that. I just want to be, and I am, one hundred percent off the grid. You know why?”

  “Yeah, because the grid is for actual human beings,” Danny quipped, making you grip his wrist tighter. He sent an apologetic glance your way, twisting his hand to grab yours. 

  Mabry was infuriated for a total of zero point five seconds before giving Danny a chillingly calm smile, “No, because in a world of total surveillance, the only true freedom lies in not being seen. You can’t control the grid from within the grid. Follow me.”

  He began walking off. When you didn’t follow him he repeated, “Follow me!”

  “Okay, alright.”

  The guards pushed you forward and the five of you followed Mabry as he spoke. 

  “You pulled a hat out of a rabbit,” he said, turning to Lula, “That was very colourful.”

  She sighed, “Almost eight and a half years ago, so, no need to bring that up.”

  You yourself winced at the memory. Mabry was wrong, there had been an abundance of one colour in particular — red. 

  Mabry grinned and instead turned to Danny, “We can’t all be held accountable for our adolescent personas, can we, Magicolio?”

  Your eyes widened and you whirled on Danny who’s jaw ticked in irritation, “Magicolio… that was fifteen years ago.”

  Oh, you were definitely going to use this. It was gold. 

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Mabry continued, very obviously enjoying his main character moment, “Like you, and many others I suppose, who were not getting any sex in high school, I dabbled with it.” Merritt pointed at Danny who shook his head. “But, uh, unlike you, I was able to transition upward towards actual magic.”

  He gestured to the side where there stood what looked like a giant, shiny server, “Science, you may have heard it called. So would you like to know, my friends, just how I got you here?”

  “We know how you did it,” you stated, having figured that out on the ride here. 

  “No you don’t,” Mabry said sharply. 

  “Yeah, you stole our files from the show,” Merritt drawled, “then obviously hypnotised us.”

  “No, seriously, stop.”

  “The strobe was a combo of binaural beats, as well as…”

  “I said stop!” Mabry yelled, grabbing the sides of Merritt’s neck. The mentalist looked down at the shorter man, a little disturbed. Danny gripped your hand tighter, “You might not be having fun, but I am.”

  “You have an unusual way of showing it,” Merritt mused.

  Mabry ignored his comment and stepped back, clapping his hands together and grinning excitedly,” So... How did I do it? Easy. You see, magicians like to control other people's perceptions. In your heightened state of agitation, you saw the simplest cues — Black tube, roof — and your minds filled in the rest.”

  “Shit,” you muttered, mentally kicking yourself for not keeping your head during the chaos.

  “But the tube you meant to go down was 20 feet to your right,” Mabry finished smugly, “Go on, sit down. There's no one

standing in your way.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Merritt quipped, settling onto the couch. 

  With slight caution, you followed his lead, Danny plopping down next to you. To your dismay, Mabry squeezed in between you and Lula.

  “Anyway, once in the tube, yes you’re right. Blah blah blah, the strobe contained UV letters pulsing the word ‘sleep’, and this combined with the sound put you into an instant alpha pattern.”

  The image of the flashing lights in the tube resurfaced in your mind’s eye and you tried not to wince at the reality of it. You had been tricked. All of you. Dylan too, probably. Not to mention you were now at the mercy of this clearly unhinged not-dead billionaire with a god complex. 

  “And from then on,” Mabry continued, “it really was just fun, and I can assure you, you don’t know what happened.”

  With that he clicked the remote and a power point was displayed on the screen in front of you. The opening slide was black with the words ‘Our trip to Macau’ in white typing. The next slide cleared everything up. 

  “That’s really creepy,” You stated, cautiously eyeing the photograph of your unconscious self lying with your head in Danny’s lap as he leaned on Mabry who was giving the camera the finger. 

  “Really, really creepy,” Lula agreed.

  “That’s not cool,” you said, shaking your head. 

  “Yep, easy stuff, magic, if you put your mind to it,” Mabry said cheerfully. You wanted to claw his eyes out. This urge was heightened when the next photo showed draped over Mabry’s lap, your head resting on his shoulder. 

  Danny tensed next to you.

  “Alright, that’s enough,” he interjected, “So why are we here then? You know, besides you getting to show off how adorably clever you are?” 

  “Well to start with, the man you stole from last year. Turns out I had invested a lot of money in some of his companies so a lot of what you stole, was in fact mine.” Mabry said, his cheerful tone completely at odds with the accusation.

  “It’s a small world,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. It figured this lunatic was after money. Or revenge. Either was enough to satisfy people like him.

  “Good news is, it’s very easy for you to pay me back! I just need your… skills.”

Taglist:

@Pulling-out-my-eyes

@Nightmaredressedlikeadaydream57

[imagination-of-a-fandom-slut]

Say My Name

Prompt: If you're still taking requests? Possibly a one-shot where you try to guess what the J means in Daniel's name? Just having it be playful and him never really telling you.

Pairing: Daniel x Reader

Word  Count: 470

Warning: none

" Daniel Jackson Atlas." I spit out as I spread the cream cheese on my bagel,

"No." Daniel laughs, stealing the top half of my bagel, taking a huge bite of it before he puts it back down on my plate. "Not even close."

My jaw drops, "Daniel, you're a jackass, this is the last bagel too!"  I reach out to hit him but he moves just in time, "Daniel Jacob Atlas." I suggest again and he shakes his head laughing,

"No," He giggles as he pours himself a glass of apple juice, sipping it slowly as watches me, scribbling names on a paper,

"Okay, okay, Daniel Jesse Atlas." I look at him, trying to see if there was any reaction, "Okay, not.  How about Daniel Jack Atlas?" Daniel almost spits out his apple juice,

"There is no way I am named after Jack, no, fucking way." I laugh, scribbling down another name and crossing it out.

"Okay, Daniel Jace Atlas. Jace sounds cool." Daniel sipped his apple juiced, and nodded, looking as if he was thinking  about it,

"I mean it's a cool name, Jace, Daniel Jace Atlas." He tried it out, then saying it slowly, "I like it, Jace, Daniel Jace Atlas." He shrugged, taking another sip of his apple juice, and picking up the half of my bagel he had taken a bite out of, finishing it off. "But no, the J in my name does not stand for Jace, or Jacob, or Jack, or Jackson." I groan, slumping my shoulders,

"I'm not giving up, oh, I got it." I looked at him, and he smiled trying to peek at my paper, "Oh, no you don't." I laugh covering it, "I'm sure this one is the right one, Daniel Joe Atlas." Daniel shook his head,

"Babe just gives up, you're never going to guess it, and even if you do, I'm not telling you." I roll my eyes, slapping my pen down,

"Danny, babe, you're being a real jackass, just tell me." Daniel smiles and finishes his apple juice and my bagel. "Please," I beg,  with prayer hands, using my best puppy dog eyes, and Daniel just shook his head, washing and drying the cup.

"Y/N I will tell you but you have to promise not to tell anyone." I nod and lean in, waiting for him to tell me, "It's Jessica, my middle name is Jessica. Daniel Jessica Atlas." My jaw drops and we stare at each other, faces straight until he busted out laughing,

"Danny, you're such a fucking jerk." I cry, throwing my pen at him. "I swear I hate you so much." I pout, crossing my arms, leaning back in my chair, Daniel just laughing and shaking his head,

[jb3islife]

Love is Like a Playing Card (J. Daniel Atlas) Chapter III

“So,” Sutton stated, her knees pulled up to her chest and her head resting on them, “it’s just like that?” Danny kissed the top of her head to comfort her.

Henley sighed, along with Jack, Merritt, and Dylan. “Yeah, Sutton,” she said, “it is.”

Sutton bit her lip, deciding how best to respond. “I won’t lie to you, Henley. I never have. And using Danny and I as a reason for why you’re leaving…” She shook her head. “That’s low.”

“But I-” Henley started, silenced by Merritt’s hand on her arm.

“No, don’t,” Sutton stated. “I need to do this. First, I was in denial and ran away. Now, I’m angry. I need to say this.”

Henley sat in shock, never seeing this side of Sutton come at her before. “Um, yeah. You’re right. That’s fair.”

Sutton sighed heavily. She placed her feet on the floor and took Henley’s hand in her own. “I need you to know that I am angry and hurt that you are choosing to leave us. However, I don’t blame your reasons for wanting to.” Henley let out a breath at Sutton’s words. “I don’t want you to leave, but I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve a happy life. You deserve to have a family. You know, not a criminal one,” she smirked. Henley choked out a laugh. “Please, don’t abandon me. I need to know you’re safe.”

Henley smiled at her younger cousin, amazed by how much more mature Sutton seemed compared to herself. “I’ll never abandon you, Sutton,” Henley comforted her. “But, it’s me that will always need to know that you’re safe. After all, you’re living your life as, well, a criminal.”

“Actually, I’m dead,” Sutton joked, receiving a laugh from the others.

“Awe, shit!” Jack shouted. “I am too!”

The group laughed together, feeling like the family they had been for the past two years. Henley looked around the room at the smiling faces before her. She looked at Sutton, so strong even when she was hurting. She looked at Danny, so in love with her cousin that he couldn’t even see it for himself. She looked at Jack and Merritt, ready to put themselves in harm's way to protect Sutton. She looked at Dylan, the person who could see the great potential Sutton had within her to change the world.

“Henley?” Sutton said. “You okay?” Danny wrapped an arm around Sutton’s shoulder, pulling her toward himself to place a kiss on her temple.

Henley gave her a side smile. “I am,” she responded. “I think I am finally becoming okay with the idea of leaving you with them.”

Sutton put a hand on Henley’s. “You aren’t,” Sutton told her. “You’ll be with me in more ways than you think.”

Henley stood, pulling Sutton up with her. “I love you so much, Sut.” Henley pulled her into a long, tight hug.

“I love you more, Hen.”

As the two pulled away from one another, Danny cleared his throat. “So, what’s next?”

“You’re moving in with Sutton,” Jack and Merritt commanded. Danny cocked an eyebrow. Sutton smiled at the irony of the situation.

“What’s so funny, Sutton?” Dylan asked her, his smile showing that he was ready for her shenanigans.

Sutton giggled. “Merritt and Jack think they are being protective of me as if Danny and I haven’t had sex all over this apartment when Henley would stay with the boys.”

Danny spit the water he was drinking out in surprise at her comment. His face was already turning bright red, and it wasn’t from choking on the water. Jack, Merritt, and Henley started to yell their own profanities about the comment as Dylan sat and laughed harder than Sutton had ever seen.

“Oh, my God!” Jack screamed. “All over? Really? The kitchen?”

Sutton bit her lip as she sat down next to Danny, avoiding Jack’s deadly stare. She tousled her hair to hide her smile from the others as she gave Danny a wink. Danny bit his lip and looked away from her, his mind already going to the first day he threw Sutton up on the counter as she made dinner for the two. He ran a hand up and down Sutton’s upper thigh, the friction burning a hole in her jeans.

“Fuck my life,” Jack huffed, his hands covering his face. “Why not just stab me in the back? That place is my sanctuary when I visit your apartment, Sut! God, those poor leftovers. The things they’ve heard.”

“We can all be grateful,” Merritt started, patting Jack on the back as he pretended to choke up, “that those helpless leftovers never had to see a thing.” Sutton and Danny rolled their eyes.

Henley laughed loudly. “I raised you well, young Reeves.”