Collection of imagines (smut and no smut) featuring the characters of Now You See Me. All imagines will be created using plots/situations from the imagination of the author and the imagination of readers. Please feel free to request an imagine (requ...
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Request: Reader is frustrated and Merritt can tell what is wrong with a lead into smut.
"Imagine...": Becoming frustrated with following a blind lead and Merritt tries to help relieve your stress.
Warning: Includes mature content and language; smut
"I fucking hate this!" you screamed at your computer scream. As if involuntarily, your hands flew through your hair, the freshly washed strands flinging water all over the place. "Damnit!" you whispered, carefully drying the splashes off your laptop screen.
"I heard the 'f' word!" Jack called from the living room. "Dollar in the jar, young lady!"
"I'm twelve years older than you, baby face!" you responded. Jack chuckled at your insult, only stating that he has the face of an angel.
After a few minutes, a knock sounded on your door. Before you could tell the person to go away, the door to your room creaked open. "What's wrong, good looking?"
"Leave it to Merritt McKinney to enter with a flirty line," you grumbled, throwing your dollar at him for the jar.
Merritt rolled his eyes as he caught the currency. "And what exactly did I do to offend thy queen this time?" He picked up the sweatshirt laying at the foot of the bed and set it on your chair.
You smirked, catching your bottom lip between your teeth before Merritt had enough time to notice and comment.
"Let me guess; I wasn't flirty enough?" Merritt joked. "No, no. That's impossible." You laughed. "I'm sensing a great amount of frustration in this room."
You nodded in confirmation. Following a blind lead for the past eight months was taking its toll on you.
"You wanna talk about this blind lead driving you insane?" Merritt asked, sliding on his stomach to lay beside you. Your eyes never left the laptop screen, yet you felt yourself shift to make room for his broad shoulders next to you on the pillow.
"Not really," you sighed.
"Come on, beautiful," the mentalist cooed, wrapping an arm around your legs behind your laptop. The screen shifted, a groan of frustration leaving your throat. Merritt cocked an eyebrow at you. "Talk to me."
Sighing, you reluctantly explained to him your frustrations. It was not easy for you to go along with the other Horsemen and follow a blind lead. You had always been one to believe in only what you could see. "I was four when I stopped believing in Santa," you admitted. "You can imagine the trouble I got in at public school."
Merritt chuckled. "Do you feel any better now?"
You shrugged. "A little," you said as Merritt sat himself up on the bed next to you. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.
