I'm very rarely blown away by acting performances in movies, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart and soul when I say that Jaafar genuinely blew me up. He convinced me that he WAS Michael, not just a man impersonating Michael. This was both on stage and off-stage, by the way. The essence of Michael felt so natural to him that you wouldn't think for a second that he rehearsed for two years to get this right. Yes, there is the Jackson gene aspect to it and I do believe that it did at least a quarter of the job if you have watched interviews of him, but you will not tell me that this man did not work his ass off for this role. I can tell, as an MJ fan myself, that he poured every bit of his heart in doing justice to his uncle. Michael would genuinely be proud of him and no one can tell me otherwise.
ღ summary: You're forced to leave 10 years of domestic life when a mysterious card arrives at the Wilder doorstep.
ღ pairing: Jack Wilder x fem!reader
ღ warnings: UGHHH DAVE FRANCOO. (UGH DOMINIC SESSAAAA) NYSM 3 spoilers ofc. and also, 30 is not that old. was just exaggerating haha
Jack had been quiet when he opened the door to your apartment. Not the usual, tired after a long day kind of quiet, but one woven with a certain tenseness that even you can't deny.
The sound of keys rattling against the small glass dish by the entrance serves to break the silence, but it only deafens you.
You allow him the space to process, watching from the corner of your eye as Jack takes off his coat and loosens the bowtie around his neck, the movements feeling heavier than it should be. He hasn't said anything else to you, save for the sweet "I'm home" greeting he called out from the entrance. Already you found that a bit off, because you're so used to Jack practically deflating on your lap the moment he took off that charming-cruise-magician facade.
The distance between you two—more mental than physical—felt uncomfortable.
"You okay, baby?" You finally break the silence as you watch him too absentmindedly arranging the items in your kitchen cupboard. The one you've just tidied up this morning.
"Huh? Oh—yeah. M'fine."
Jack doesn't look your way but you don't stop fixing your gaze on him, and the burn is finally enough to make him crack.
"Okay, not entirely." He sighs, pulling something out of his pocket. It looks like a piece of paper. Small, just one piece. Maybe a tip or contact number? But the breath gets caught in your throat when he holds a tarot card up, vibrant colors glinting too brightly even in the dim of your apartment.
"Looks like someone decided our 10 year vacation is over."
You stand up abruptly from where you were relaxed on the couch, suddenly alert. There's only one answer to who would be sending tarot cards and it is the one organization you and Jack have been trying to avoid for the past quiet decade.
"The- The Eye?"
The stutter is followed by your quick steps as you lurch forward towards the dining room, instinctively holding on to Jack's shoulder for a semblance of support. You have to lift a hand up to wipe down the disbelief across your open mouth, resting your chin on top of it. The mention of those words makes your throat impossibly dry.
Jack's not any better than you. Later on the plane he tells you how his world practically froze when he found the card slipped between the nook of a piano in his latest cruise gig. The resigned shock is ever present on his face. "The one and only."
"They know we're together. That's obvious." He continues.
You don't even bother asking how they knew where Jack worked, or the fact that the card would also eventually make its way to you. Even after all these years it's still jarring to know that they know almost every single thing about you.
"What's it say?" The courage you mustered to ask that question should be known and awarded.
Jack cautiously holds the card in front of your faces to show the image printed on it.
The angel holding a trumpet stares back at you like you were about to be next. That "judgement" wasn't just about whoever was the next victim of The Eye's operation, but also a chance to prove that you still had it in you to carry this out. All the weight, the expectations and the people who unknowingly relied on you to deliver the justice that had been robbed from them.
"Judgement card." Jack began, before flipping the card around, simultaneously trying to feel for any hidden contraptions within. "Couple coordinates. Aand... 'Diamonds are forever'."
He digs into his pant pocket to pull out his phone, going to paste the coordinates and clicking search. The screen reveals a world map view, and the country written on it,
"Looks like Belgium. In… Antwerp?"
The mention has your eyes pointing downwards, a frown unfolding itself above your eyes. Jack is still attempting to find more clues on his device when you take the chance to rest your face between his shoulder blades, believing the contact could help to ground you while you try to uncover whatever that cryptic message meant.
"Diamonds.. Antwerp.." You mutter under your breath, voice muffled by his vest. When it comes rushing to you, you shoot your head upwards, fingers snapping in eureka. "Vanderberg."
"Vander- who?" Jack is now even more confused than he was before, thick brows creasing deeply in thought. It's like the answer is lying right on the tip of his tongue. That name. It sounded familiar.
"Largest diamond company in like- the world right now." You point your fingers up before restricting it, balling your hand into a loose fist. "A multi-generational money laundering scheme, really."
It's not hard to miss that name these days. From investing in high-speed Formula 1 engines to harvesting the Heart Diamond—the largest piece of diamond in the world—'Vanderberg' gets passed around a lot. But all that luxury and success shrouds an extremely bloody history. Including but not limited to the stolen precious stones and her suspiciously large criminal associations in her network. You're not surprised that The Eye is targeting Veronika Vanderberg. You don't need to be a genius to discern the amount of problematic clients that woman has.
You know that she's hosting a private party in Antwerp to auction the Heart Diamond, and now you're starting to understand where The Eye is going with this. Where there's fire, that's where the horseman are.
The next thing that comes to your mind is to call Henley.
Out of all the horseman, Henley's the only one you still, to this day, are in contact with. The two of you have weekly catch ups and sometimes brunch when Hen's in town, and frequently update each other about your marriages and her adorable kids. Jack's already earned the title of "Favorite Uncle" after one playdate. He was just magic like that.
And yes, she's the only one out of all the 3 Horseman who know about your relationship with Jack. The bond you had created over a decade ago was too tight to let go off, and you found true sisterhood in her. Plus, it isn't like you didn't try to be undercover. Not even a month after your engagement Henley had clocked Jack walking behind you through the Face Time camera and the idiot fully said hi to her when she asked if it was actually him. From then on you didn't bother hiding anything from her. It really is not hard to trust Henley Reeves.
Danny was—complicated. There was still a lot of tension in the friendship, and you found it the hardest to bridge the wide gap between the two of you. Merritt you had reconnected with after Russia. That old coot was too much like a father to you to break off from. But somehow in the years between, you had lost contact. It was over once he really went into that nomad kind of life. You couldn't even guess where he was now. Could be halfway across the world, for all you know.
Besides having girl-to-girl understanding, Henley has always been one of the most consistent. Intelligent. Someone you could rely on. You're sure that if the card made it all the way to you and Jack, it got to her too.
"Do we really have to be in?" The slight whine in his tone isn't lost to you.
He isn't looking at you when he says this, head bent down to nose the skin of your arm that lay on his left shoulder. Almost like he already knows the answer you're going to give him—and it's one he doesn't want to hear.
You understand your husband completely. The life you live right now isn't perfect. Between Jack taking cruise gigs all around and bringing home some "extra tips" and your job as a quaint office worker in some inconspicuous company, life isn’t exactly the height of luxury. But you're beyond grateful that you were able to find some semblance of normality. It was comfortable. Quiet. Stable, and so revolved around your love.
Breaking that bubble does hurt a little, but The Eye sent a higher calling. No matter how much you denied it, that itch you still felt from time to time is undeniable. And it isn't like you can just deny The Eye. They'd have tracked you down the moment you even tried to walk away.
"If they didn't want us in, they wouldn't have sent anything, J." Your answer is accompanied by the slither of your arms over his shoulder as you hug his upper body. Under your nose on the base of his neck you can sense the way he decompresses from the contact. You feel bad that you have to say this to him, but you know Jack understands that this isn't something he can say no to.
There's a sardonic smile on his face, like he's both impressed and weary. "Always playing three steps ahead."
You reward him with a soft kiss on his cheek, and when you reach to press the same comfort to his temple you feel him close his eyes.
"Besides, this might have to do with that pseudo-Horseman show in Bushwick. Never got to know who deepfaked you so well."
Now that event is still a mystery to the two of you.
In no universe did any of the Horseman ever mention getting together, not especially for a "10 year reunion". Henley was just as shocked as you were when she saw the five of your guys' faces practically blasted all over Brooklyn. Hell, whoever did this even got the cops called on her kids!
Now imagine your surprise when you came across a poster on your way home from work: yours, Jack, Danny, Merritt, and Henley’s faces grinning back at you. You don’t even remember ever taking that picture. It took Jack some 30 minutes to convince you that you were being gaslit.
It was scary how much technology grew over the decade. Back then you guys thought projectors were already the peak of human innovation, but now they have tech that could mimic and recreate your faces, voices and even mannerisms.
Jack was, obviously, the biggest opposer of this.
"Aht." He clicked his tongue. "AI could never get the 'Wilder Charm' right."
He sounds so proud when he says this and you don't have it in you to say anything otherwise.
For a moment the two of you are quiet, re-thinking everything that's happened in the last decade. Though without a doubt, you already know the next country you'll be visiting once you step out of your lovely Manhattan apartment.
"So… what do you say? One more ride before we pretend retirement again?"
Jack glides his palms on your arms hanging around his shoulder, wedding ring waking goosebumps as the metal makes its way up and down. You can feel the scheming grin on his lips when he presses them onto your temple and you're inclined to follow wherever he goes.
"Fortune favors the bold," You start, a slight shake in your head.
"—and the foolish."
You're already on a spiel about trying all kinds of Belgian cuisine as you walk back towards the direction of your room, ready to pack the smallest bag you've ever had in years. You know as much that you'll be running and jumping—gosh, are you too old to be doing that now?—so carrying around bulk is going to be useless.
The first thing you pull out on instinct is Jack's old bomber jacket. The leather looks worn from all the years of use, the black tint no longer as shiny as it used to be. It's lost its structure now, but it's still one of your favorite (stolen) item of clothing.
Once you're done you turn around to find Jack inside the bedroom, halfway slipping on a soft black sweatshirt over his body. "Mind if I steal your jacket?" You ask rhetorically, stepping forward to help pull the sides of his top down.
"Be my guest, beautiful." He answers while his head is still beneath the cashmere fabric. When Jack pops back out, all he can focus on is his damn gorgeous and perfect wife standing before him.
He doesn't bother holding back the large, full-teethed grin that your image elicits.
"You do look good in black. It does something to me." Your husband compliments, rolling his shoulders and blowing out air to exaggerate the fact that he has to control himself in front of you. It brings a laugh out of you, and you almost shy away when he pulls your body closer by the opening.
"Says you, handsome." You grin up at him. You push forward to press a slow, loving kiss to his lips before stepping back to take him in.
The sweatshirt, the black pants and the boots—in him you see the old Jack wilder, the witty, speedy pickpocket magician who was pure youth. Though it's been a few years now and he's grown more lines on his face, seeing him in this familiar getup makes him pulse with a sort of energy that's long been hidden.
A lot can truly happen in a decade. After what went down with Dylan getting imprisoned and the failed Russia heist—at which point you were already together—the two of you decided that it was a good time to tie the knot officially.
It's hard to have any security beyond yourselves when you're running across countries and always having to look twice for law enforcements hounding your back. Though you and Jack trusted each other entirely and understood what life as a Horseman resigned you to, you couldn't deny the part of you that wished for simple domesticity. Waking up to slow mornings next to each other. Tidying each other up before work. Leisurely walks by the river where you could just enjoy the quietness.
You wanted whatever normal couples had. But with the magical twist of you and Jack. And having almost 10 years to settle and find purpose in your lives post-horseman was more than enough.
The two of you move with a practiced domesticity now, away from the clumsy, wild and young love that you had back then. Though you're glad that zing makes its appearance every now and then.
"I always wondered why we used to sync in black all the time. More mystery or cool?" You wonder out loud, looking up to blow stray pieces of hair that made its way into your eyes.
"A little bit of column A," He answers, tucking said strands behind your ear. "And a lot of column B."
Jack finishes the sentence with his hands gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly close.
You don't notice it now, but he slips in a deck in your left pocket.
It's the deck that he used in the New Orleans show back then. Flayed around the corners and scratched up, but still carrying the same amount of sentiment that it did. Written on the Queen is his old phone number from when he first asked you out on a date. That was the greatest trick he ever pulled. He calls it cheesy now, but you think it's the most on-brand thing he has ever done.
"That, and black's the color of all trickery and misdirection.. all the best bullshit."
This fishes a deep, full-belly laugh out of you.
Gosh you really did miss dressing up to the nines with your best buddies before going to commit high profile crimes on some poor unsuspecting billionaire. Good times.
"We do look pretty badass for a couple of bullshitters."
Santa Clarita diet is STILL one of my favorite shows of all time. It’s such a crime the show got canceled because it’s so fucking funny.
The acting is insanely good for not just a comedy series but a *netflix* series. Drew Barrymore & Timothy Olyphant are incredibly in sync the entire time, just like people who have spent their lives together would be.
Liv Hewson and Skyler Gisondo absolutely ATE as teenagers dealing with problems that are way too big for them to handle alone. Not just that but the way their friendship plays out over three seasons is BEAUTIFUL.
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