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heliads · 11 months

Note

I would like to request a one-shot where the female reader is a paramedic and Jack from Now You See Me has a crush on her and keeps doing things that result in minor injuries in the hopes that she will be the one to patch him up

i will love now you see me (and dave franco) until the day that i die

masterlist

If you were going to thank the Four Horsemen for anything, you’d owe them a great deal just for getting you out of yet another boring workplace training. Other people across the world can love the magicians for the money they scatter across their performances, or the thrill of getting into one of their exclusive shows, or just to appreciate someone getting one up on the FBI. There are many reasons to be a fan of the Horsemen, and yours has to be the most mundane.

In your defense, you’ve been hideously overworked for what must be years at this point, and at least this is one afternoon you can relax. You knew what you were signing up for when you decided to become a paramedic, but that doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate a bit of down time when it comes to you.

The marvelous performances of the Four Horsemen don’t usually involve a whole lot of injury, but ever since one of the original shows ended with an FBI agent getting tackled by fifteen people under deep hypnosis, it was determined that having a few paramedics around couldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Usually, the shows are in lavish places across the planet, but this time, they announced that they’d be putting on a display right in your city.

You were excited when you first heard the news, much like anyone else. Even if all tickets sold out within a few minutes, just the thought that the world famous magicians would be so close to you was thrilling. There could be magic right in front of your nose and you wouldn’t even know it unless they snapped their fingers. Maybe they’d cross your path without you realizing it. Maybe they’d even stay next door to your home.

Your schedule was filled during their performance, so you knew there wasn’t a chance that you’d actually get to see a second of their show. There will always be YouTube videos, someone uploading a grainy video from the nosebleeds of whatever venue hall the Horsemen have decided to occupy, but it wouldn’t be the same as being there in person.

You’d assumed you’d be distracting yourself from thoughts of whatever exquisite show was going on down the street with some lovely mandatory trainings. Unless your squad was called upon for an accident, you’d have to content yourself with lackluster meetings and the like.

That was the case until you got the call that you’d actually be at the event hall. In a professional capacity, of course, but still, it was closer than you thought possible. The city had decided that it would be a good thing to have a few medical professionals on hand just in case something happened. There had been a handful of faintings and a small stampede at the last show, so you can understand why you and a few of your coworkers were called out here.

Most of you will be staying outside near your ambulance, parked just out of view. One or two paramedics are stationed inside, but you’re all going within the venue now just to get a feel for how the place is set up. Odds are nothing major happens, but it’s still fun to peer around and imagine what might be going on later that day.

The show won’t start for another hour or so, but the Horsemen are still kind enough to greet you and point out the major entrances and exits. You aren’t allowed to look around too closely, of course; half the fun of the magic is that no one knows it, not even the medical staff, but you can guess at the areas they’re keeping from you and what that might entail.

In all honesty, you’re kind of distracted from peering too closely behind various curtains by one of the Horsemen. Although you’ve never been to one of their shows before, that didn’t stop you from picking out a favorite: Jack Wilder, the cutest, or so you tell your friends between bouts of laughter and over drinks.

And, by all twists of fate, he seems most interested in you. He stutters twice over his one-syllable first name, and tries both to shake your hand and hold it, too. He got distracted when you smiled at him, you think, but that didn’t stop the rest of the Horsemen from shooting each other knowing glances, especially when Jack insisted that you be one of the paramedics to stay inside the venue. Just in case, you know.

The rest of the Horsemen file away to their dressing rooms or wherever they go to practice their tricks one last time, but Jack sticks around a little longer. The other paramedic staying in the venue with you opts to scout out the surrounding hallways, but you take the seat Jack offers you and he sits down too, grinning like he’s the audience and you’re the main attraction.

“Don’t you have to go back with the rest and rehearse your show?” You ask, teasing him lightly.

Jack shakes his head a little too quickly. “No, no, I’m good. Always good. Besides, if I did that, how would I get to know you?”

You laugh. “I suppose that’s a good point. Do you flirt with all of the paramedics you meet at your shows or just me?”

“Only the prettiest ones,” Jack grins, “although you’ve blown any competition out of the water, I can assure you that.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up when he says it, and you look away quickly to regain your composure. “That’s nice of you to say.”

You can still see the ghost of Jack’s smile out of the corner of your eye, blinking in your mind like you’ve stared too long at the sun. “I only speak the truth, of course.”

He looks like he has plenty more to say, but Daniel Atlas appears at the corner of the stage, looking irritable and tapping the watch at his wrist. “We need you, Jack. Quit flirting and help us, will you?”

Jack groans. “Always such a control freak. I hate to leave you alone like this.”

You swat him lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll survive somehow. Go handle Daniel.”

Jack grins again, but he’s still looking disappointed. “Can I talk to you after the show, at least?”

You make a face. “I don’t know. We’ll probably handle any injuries, if there are any, then head back pretty quickly.”

Jack’s brow furrows, thinking something through. “Alright. Okay. That makes sense. I’ll be sorry to miss you, though.”

You smile up at him. “It was nice to meet you, Jack.”

“Nice to meet you too,” he says in a rush, standing up quickly when Daniel shouts for him again.

You let yourself sit there for a moment or two longer, giddy over the undivided attention of one of the prettier boys you’ve had the pleasure of meeting, then head back out of the performance hall to go find your other paramedic. They’re a friend of yours, have been for a while, and so they greet you with a raised eyebrow and a question about if you’ve managed to secure a second date with your little magician for later that night.

You roll your eyes, but inside your heart can’t help but do a slow loop in your chest. He’s certainly charming, the Horseman, you only hope that his affections were genuine and not him trying to set up a trick for later that evening.

You’re able to peek through a window to see most of the show, which is as stunning as all the critics claim. You head back to the ambulance once the performance, tending to a few minor injuries like people forgetting insulin or getting their hand stuck in a door on the way out. You’re assuming it’ll be another ordinary day until you look up and see Jack standing in front of you again.

He grimaces at you, embarrassed. “Managed to slice myself open a little during the show. Would you mind patching me up, Doc?”

You reach for some bandages behind you with a grin. “Too cocky with our tricks, were we?”

Jack nods, feigning sadness. “My pride may never recover. Can I get a kiss while you’re here? You know, to help with the healing process?”

You arch a brow. “I don’t think that kissing an open wound would be all that sanitary. I can’t recommend it.”

“What about here instead?” Jack asks, tapping his cheek.

You laugh at the hopeful expression on his face, then, in a rush of adrenaline you expect just as little as Jack, lean forward and do as told. The look in his eyes could trick any girl into falling for him, and if you hadn’t already had an inkling of feelings for him, perhaps you have a little more now than before.

He’s pulled away soon enough, but you don’t think you’ll ever forget that day. It’s certainly a memory you’ll treasure for a while. All’s well that ends well, though, and you’re in the ambulance driving back soon enough, staring out at the road zipping by you like you’ll be able to sight him again if you just look hard enough, just want him enough.

You don’t know how long the Horsemen will be staying in town, if they haven’t already left, yet one week later, the news starts blaring headlines about how the magicians’ next show will be here again. Here, in your city. In your reach. It seems impossible– they don’t repeat locations without a good reason, but yet so it is.

You insist a little quickly on being a part of the paramedic team to cover the new venue, even though the times don’t quite line up on your schedule. A few days’ time finds you waiting by the ambulance after the second show of the by now very famous Horsemen, looking around with too much foolish hope.

You’re about to give up on the idea that you’d ever see Jack again– who were you kidding, after all, thinking that he’d be interested in you more than a passing crush on a pretty face– and then there he is, heading quickly down the stairs, walking directly towards you.

He holds up his hand, and you can make out a small dash of blood before he’s excitedly telling you about how he managed to cut himself again, can you believe that, and how are you anyway? Jack didn’t see you in the venue, only two other paramedics, and he was starting to think that you weren’t coming until he looked out and saw you.

You listen to his delighted wave of words, then speak once you’re able to. “This is a pretty small wound, Wilder. I’m assuming you would be able to patch it up by yourself.”

Jack’s face falls. “Shoot, you’re right. Wait, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

You laugh when he turns to run, grabbing his hand so he can’t leave. “Are you going to go back inside so you can make a worse wound? That’s absurd, you know that.”

Jack’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, caught in the act. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. No magician would ever fake an injury.”

“Not even to talk to a paramedic they like?” You ask, the picture of innocence.

Jack chuckles. “Well, maybe in those circumstances. I feel like it’s understandable, though. I don’t want to distract you from your work, you know, but I do want to see you. A lot, actually.”

You haven’t let go of his hand yet, you realize, but you find that you don’t really want to. “Alright,” you tell him, “How about something else? I’m free for dinner tomorrow night if that works with you.”

Jack’s eyes light up, fireworks in rowan wood. “That’s perfect, actually. I’d love that.”

Someone appears behind him– Henley, fresh from their show. “Are you two finally going out? Good, he insisted on switching the location of our second performance to be here again because he couldn’t ask the first time.”

Jack turns around, expression dawning with horror. “You said you weren’t going to do something like this. You said.”

Henley just grins. “I couldn’t resist.”

“I’m just glad you moved the second show,” you smile, “I was worried we wouldn’t be able to talk again.”

“We’re going to talk a lot,” Jack promises, “I just need Henley to apologize for interrupting.”

“Not a chance,” she says gleefully, much to Jack’s dismay.

They’ve been lingering for a while now, so you’re not surprised when Henley starts to head away again. Jack looks between her and you again, knowing that it’s time to go.

“Text me,” he pleads, “we’ll set this up, alright?”

You watch him go, and it takes a few minutes before you realize that you don’t have Jack’s number. When you reach in your pocket for your phone, though, you notice a playing card stuck to the back of the case. It’s the Queen of Hearts, and there’s a number scrawled hastily on the surface.

You laugh to yourself. Falling in love with a Horseman certainly won’t be boring, but who would want that? You have Jack. The best trick was winning him, and you’ve come up with the best hand. Nothing could make you happier.

requested by @thornyrose463, i hope you enjoy!

now you see me tag list: empty for now!

#jack wilder #jack wilder imagines #jack wilder x reader #jack wilder oneshot #now you see me #now you see me imagines #now you see me x reader #now you see me oneshot #now you see me jack #now you see me jack imagines #now you see me jack x reader #now you see me jack oneshot

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heliads · 7 months

Note

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

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