pairing: jack wilder x reader
summary: You keep the Horsemen organized and in line—but Jack Wilder keeps you on edge. From secret kisses to near-discoveries, your hidden romance teeters between chaos and intimacy—until one hotel room forces the truth into the open.
chapter warnings: Flirting, suggestive content, minor injury, emotional tension, secret romance (lmk if there are any more!)
A/N: this one is specifically for my friend who said she was going to binge read the jack wilder fics after the movie. you know who you are...
You were the one who kept the Horsemen all from completely falling apart.
You scheduled rehearsals, made sure everyone had their gear, organised the timing down to the second, and cleaned up the chaos left in the wake of their stunts. People thought you were cold, calculated, unflappable — and maybe, sometimes, you were — but that wasn’t the whole story. You cared. You cared a lot. You just didn’t make a show of it.
It was your job to be the one who stayed three steps ahead, who noticed when someone was about to make a mistake, who got between them and disaster before anyone else even realized it was coming. You managed the Horsemen the way some people manage a ticking bomb — calmly, precisely, and with a little prayer that it wouldn’t explode in your face.
And then there was Jack.
Jack Wilder.
The wildcard. The smile that made you lose your focus. The infuriating man who broke rules as easily as he broke hearts. You were supposed to keep him in line, keep him in check, keep him professional. And yet somehow, in the quiet moments, in the spaces between stunts and meetings, you found yourself pulled into him. Into his chaos. Into his ridiculous charm.
It wasn’t supposed to happen.
It was reckless. Unprofessional. And yet, when he looked at you the way he did — like you were the only person in the room who mattered, the only person who could see him — you realized it didn’t matter. You didn’t care about rules in that moment. You didn’t care about logic.
Because managing a team of illusionists was one thing. Managing your own heart? That was another entirely.
And from that precarious edge, your secret began. A secret you would hide from the Horsemen, no matter how close they were, no matter how much they suspected… at least, until the day you couldn’t.
the time you pretended to hate each other
You’d been managing the Horsemen for months, which meant you knew exactly how to predict chaos — all of it. Except for one thing. Jack Wilder.
He was impossible. Charming, reckless, infuriating, and somehow always distracting you at exactly the wrong moment. Which is why, when Atlas called the team into the briefing room that morning, you sat as far away from him as humanly possible. Not too far — people would notice — but far enough to send the right message.
Jack noticed immediately. Of course he did.
“Morning,” he said, sliding into his chair at the far end of the table, voice casual. Too casual. His eyes gleamed in a way that made your chest tighten.
You didn’t respond.
Merritt, ever the observant one, tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Why do you two always sit like a divorced couple?”
You didn’t even look at Jack. “Because he’s insufferable.”
Jack smirked. “Because she breathes too loud.”
You shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.
Merritt groaned. “Ugh. You two are exhausting.”
Atlas cleared his throat, flipping through his notes like nothing was happening, but you and Jack both knew better. Under the table, your phone vibrated. You glanced down.
jack: you look really pretty today btw
Your stomach did a flip. Nearly choked. Your hand shook slightly as you typed a reply.
you: stop it. merritt is watching me like I’m about to explodejack: i always watch u like that. i like it
You cursed under your breath, shoving the phone into your pocket before anyone noticed.
“You okay?” Atlas asked, finally glancing at you, voice sharp but not unkind.
“Yes,” you said quickly, trying to steady your breath. “Just… coffee didn’t agree with me.”
Jack took a slow sip of his own coffee, hiding a grin that threatened to undo every ounce of professionalism you had cultivated.
And for the next hour, you sat there, pretending to hate each other, trading barbed comments, while secretly exchanging tiny smiles and texts under the table.
Perfect cover.
Well… for now.
2. the time you two almost got caught making out
The show in Buenos Aires had ended hours ago, but the theater still smelled faintly of smoke and perfume. You were supposed to be helping Jack pack up props, moving crates and folding costumes, keeping everything organized. Instead, you found yourself pinned against a costume rack, Jack’s hands tangled in your hair, his mouth claiming yours like he hadn’t seen you in weeks.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured against your lips.
“Jack—” you warned, but he ignored you, lifting you onto a crate so your legs dangled precariously. Your hands clutched at him, unwilling to let go, and for a moment the world narrowed to just the two of you, the dim backstage lighting, the quiet hum of the empty theater.
Then a voice cut through the tension like a knife.
“HEY! Has anyone seen Jack?”
Your stomach dropped. Lula’s voice echoed down the hallway, casual but sharp, and suddenly all the intimacy you’d been wrapped up in threatened to unravel. You shoved him away so fast he stumbled backward, tripping over a fog machine with a loud clatter.
You straightened your shirt as though nothing had happened, while Jack sat on the floor, hair a mess, blinking at you like you’d just insulted his very existence.
“Does this look natural!?” he demanded, gesturing helplessly to himself.
Lula rounded the corner, saw him sprawled on the ground, and sighed. “…You’re so weird,” she said, shaking her head before walking away, clearly choosing not to involve herself in whatever ridiculousness you two were engaged in.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Jack grinned despite the mess he’d made of himself, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face.
“That was… close,” he admitted, his voice low and dangerous in that way that made your pulse speed.
“Too close,” you said, adjusting your own clothes and trying not to think about how close you’d been.
He leaned toward you again, a playful glint in his eyes, but you slapped his shoulder lightly, grounding both of you in reality.
“Not here, Wilder,” you warned.
“Noted,” he said, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Next time?”
“Next time… maybe never,” you said, exhaling, still shaky. “We nearly got caught.”
Jack laughed softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek as if to remind you that rules were optional when it came to the two of you. “Impossible,” he said. “We’re too good at this.”
“Or maybe we’re not lucky at all,” you muttered, though your heart still hammered in your chest.
One thing was certain: hiding this was going to be harder than either of you had imagined.
3. the time when he pulled a dangerous stunt
The stunt had been reckless, and you’d told him so. But Jack Wilder never listened to warnings—he thrived on adrenaline, and apparently, minor injuries were part of the thrill.
You found him in the small backstage safe room, leaning against the wall with a shallow cut across his forearm. The blood was darker than you expected, and a thin smear ran down to his wrist. His breathing was uneven, and the slight pallor of his face made your stomach twist.
“Jack,” you hissed, dropping to your knees beside him, eyes narrowing. “What the hell were you thinking?”
He tried to brush it off, waving one hand casually, but his grin faltered when he saw your glare. “Thought I could pull it off,” he said. “Slight… miscalculation.”
“Miscalculation?” you repeated, rolling your eyes. “You’re bleeding, idiot. That’s more than a miscalculation.”
He flexed his wrist, a weak attempt to make it look fine. “Technically, it’s not that bad.”
“Technically, I’ll throttle you if you move,” you snapped, grabbing a clean cloth and pressing it firmly to his wound. The iron scent of blood mixed with the faint perfume lingering in the room, and your fingers brushed the warm skin around the cut. You tried to focus, but the heat from your touch—and from him—made your pulse spike.
“You really get bossy when I’m hurt,” he murmured, voice low, teasing—but there was a vulnerability there, the kind that made your chest tighten.
“You shouldn’t be hurt, Jack. Ever,” you said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. Your fingers lingered too long, and your pulse hammered.
Jack caught your gaze, his grin softening into something warmer. “And yet here we are.”
You groaned, shifting slightly so your knees weren’t pressing uncomfortably against the crate. “Stop flirting. Just stay still.”
“I worry you’re going to kill me with those eyes,” he whispered, and despite yourself, a small shiver ran down your spine.
“I am allowed to care about you,” you snapped, though your voice wavered. “A lot. Maybe too much.”
He reached out under the cloth, fingers brushing yours as he held your hand. The touch sent heat straight to your core. “I like that you care. About me. I like it… more than I probably should.”
Your breath caught. “Jack—”
A sudden click of the door made both of you spin. Atlas stepped in, frowning. “Everything alright in here?”
Jack sprang to his feet, straightening awkwardly, the careless grin back in place. “Yeah. Minor paperwork. Boss lady’s supervising.”
You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the rapid thump of your heart. Jack leaned against the wall again once Atlas left, watching you with that impossible look—soft, intimate, and dangerous.
“You know,” he murmured, leaning just a fraction closer, “you could fix this faster if you wanted to.”
“I’m not kissing the patient,” you said, adjusting the cloth, though your fingers lingered a second longer than necessary on his arm.
“Patient,” he echoed, voice low, deliberate, almost teasing. “Is that a challenge?”
Your pulse jumped, heat rising to your cheeks. For a second, it felt like everything had narrowed to just you and him, the rest of the world gone. But you shook your head. “Not here, Jack,” you whispered.
He smirked, brushing his fingers over yours one last time before stepping back. “Fine. But… next time? Maybe I’ll let you.”
You rolled your eyes, though your chest still raced. One thing was clear: this secret was dangerous, and the closeness—the accidental touches, the teasing, the adrenaline—made it impossible to hide how much you felt.
4. the time you got jealous
The backstage corridor was still humming with post-show chaos when you walked through, flipping through your clipboard, trying to wrangle the team for load-out. You weren’t really paying attention—until you heard Jack’s laugh.
Not his stage laugh, not his crowd-standard charming smirk. The soft one. The one he used on you.
You looked up on instinct.
A girl was practically glued to his side, touching his arm, hair flipping like she practiced it in a mirror. And Jack—Jack was smiling politely, stepping back but not fast enough for your liking.
You felt something hot and sharp stab through your chest before you could stop it.
Ridiculous. Illogical. Dangerous.
You forced your voice steady as you walked over. “Jack. We’re overdue to load out. I need you backstage.”
The girl didn’t even look at you. “You’re the manager, right? You sound stressed.”
You blinked. “This is literally my job.”
Jack snorted under his breath and quickly covered it with a cough.
The girl leaned in closer to him. “So, Jack… if you’re free tonight, maybe you could show me a private trick? I bet you’re really good with your—”
Your eye twitched so violently that Jack actually flinched.
“Sorry,” he said immediately, backing up. “I’ve got responsibilities tonight.”
Her smile dropped. “Seriously? You’re bailing?”
Before you could react, Merritt appeared out of nowhere like a vulture smelling drama.
“Well damn,” Merritt said, grinning wide, “someone’s jealous.”
You stiffened. Jack froze.
“Excuse me?” you snapped.
“Oh, please,” Merritt laughed, waving a hand. “You were practically breathing fire. I’ve seen less rage from Lula when someone touches her props.”
“I’m not—jealous,” you sputtered. “I’m annoyed because Jack is off-schedule.”
“You don’t get annoyed like that about anyone else,” Merritt said, narrowing his eyes with delighted suspicion.
Jack’s face went bright red behind him. “Merritt—”
“No no, don’t stop me, kid.” Merritt pointed between you. “There’s something weird going on here and I intend to annoy both of you until I figure it—”
“Merritt,” you snapped, “leave before I assign your call time to 5 a.m.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You know what? I like sleeping. I’m gonna go find Lula.”
He disappeared down the hallway.
Silence rushed in behind him.
Jack stepped closer the second Merritt turned the corner. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, the quiet steadiness he saved just for you.
“You okay?” he murmured.
You kept your eyes on your clipboard even though you weren’t reading a single word. “Fine.”
“Liar.”
You exhaled sharply. “Jack, I—just don’t take unnecessary risks with fans. They don’t know boundaries.”
His gaze softened instantly. “Hey.” He tilted his head, trying to catch your eyes. “I wasn’t flirting with her.”
“I know,” you said too quickly, too quietly.
Jack inhaled like the admission punched the air out of him.
“And…” he continued, stepping just a little closer until your arms brushed, “I kind of… really liked that you got jealous.”
Your head snapped up. “Jack! I was— I was not—”
He smiled, small and unbearably soft. “You were.”
Your chest tightened. “Someone could’ve noticed.”
“They didn’t.” His voice dipped to a whisper meant only for you. “Only I did.”
Your breath hitched in your throat.
Down the hall, someone shouted Jack’s name. Both of you jumped apart like guilty teenagers.
Jack stepped backwards, but his eyes lingered on you. “I’ll go load out. Before Merritt comes back with conspiracy theories.”
He turned, hesitated, then added under his breath:
“And jealously suits you. Just saying.”
You threw your clipboard at him. He dodged, laughing all the way down the hall.
When you bent to retrieve it, you realized you were smiling—helplessly, hopelessly—because loving him in secret was impossible. And hiding it was getting harder every day.
5. the time he caught you
You were mid-sentence, hands full of cue cards and a half-dead flashlight, weaving through the mess of cables that snaked across the backstage floor. You’d walked this area a thousand times — which made it all the more humiliating when your toe caught on a thick cord and the ground suddenly tilted.
You let out a sharp gasp.
But you never hit the ground.
Jack got to you first.
It didn’t even seem possible — one moment he was across the room, arguing with Atlas about some detail in the finale, and the next his hands were around your waist, pulling you upright with a speed that didn’t feel human.
You crashed chest-first into him, breath leaving your lungs in a stunned rush, the world still spinning.
His fingers were firm around your hips. His chest rose and fell against yours. His eyes were wide — terrified, then relieved.
“Careful,” he breathed, voice rough. “You okay?”
You blinked, dazed. “I—yeah. I didn’t even fall.”
“Because you were about to,” he muttered. His hands didn’t let go, not immediately. “And because you don’t look where you’re walking.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“You could’ve gotten hurt.”
His voice was too soft. Too honest. Too close.
Your heart thudded painfully, embarrassingly loud. You became acutely aware of how close you were — his grip, your hands braced against his shoulders, your faces inches apart.
Then—
Footsteps.
You both froze.
Henley appeared around a stack of crates, brows raised as she took in the scene: you pressed against Jack’s chest, his arms still wrapped instinctively around your waist like he’d forgotten how to let go.
“…why did you move faster than gravity?” she asked flatly.
Jack recoiled as if electrocuted, stepping back so quickly he nearly tripped over the SAME cable you had. His ears were bright pink. He shoved his hands into his pockets like that would erase the entire moment.
You cleared your throat, smoothing your hair, praying you didn’t look as flustered as you felt. “I just—uh. Tripped.”
Henley’s eyes flicked between the two of you, unimpressed. “Right. And he got to you before physics did. Totally normal.”
Jack gave an awkward laugh. “Good reflexes?”
“Mhmm.” Henley stared a second longer, then disappeared behind the curtains.
Silence swallowed the space she’d left.
Jack exhaled slowly. His voice dropped. “You almost fell,” he murmured, as if he still needed to explain himself. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”
Your heart beat so hard you wondered if he could hear it.
“…thanks,” you said, softer than you meant to. “For the catch.”
He looked at you then — really looked — and the pink in his ears deepened.
“Anytime,” he whispered.
And the way he said it made it sound like he meant every time, in every possible situation.
Like catching you was the most natural instinct he had.
6. the time you were cold
You were shivering in the backstage corridor, hugging yourself as you tried to stay warm. The lights were dim, the crew was packing up props, and your teeth were clattering just slightly.
Jack appeared behind you like he had eyes in the back of his head. “You’re freezing,” he said, tone teasing, but you caught the edge of concern.
“I’m fine,” you muttered, tugging your jacket tighter around yourself.
Jack didn’t argue. Instead, he shrugged off his hoodie, still warm from his body, and stepped closer. “Here,” he said, draping it over your shoulders. Your hands brushed as he adjusted the sleeves, pulling them down just right. His chest brushed your back in the process, and you froze.
“Jack…” you began, your voice small, almost breathless.
“Shh,” he whispered, leaning just enough to make sure the hoodie sat comfortably. “No one’s around.”
Except someone was.
A soft cough echoed behind you both. You spun just in time to see Henley peering around the corner, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
“…What exactly is happening here?” she asked, voice suspiciously calm.
Jack’s hands froze mid-adjustment. He stepped back instantly, face flushing pink, trying to make it look casual. “Uh… she was cold,” he said, shrugging as though handing over a hoodie required no explanation.
You tugged the hoodie tighter around you, cheeks burning. “Yeah, cold,” you echoed weakly, pretending the warmth spreading through your chest was just the fabric.
Henley tilted her head, unconvinced. “Hmm. Right. Sure. Totally normal.”
She walked away, muttering something under her breath about you two being “ridiculous.”
You exhaled shakily, heart pounding, realizing just how close you’d come to being found out. Jack’s fingers brushed yours again as he stepped past, soft and casual — and suddenly, the hoodie felt like the safest, most intimate thing in the world.
“You know,” he murmured once Henley disappeared from view, voice low, “we really need to be more careful.”
You swallowed, biting your lip. “Yeah… about that.”
He smirked, sliding just a little closer. “But admit it — it was worth almost getting caught.”
And somehow, you knew it was.
the time they found out
The hotel room was tiny. One queen-sized bed dominated the space, leaving just enough room for suitcases and two very stubborn egos.
You dropped your bag with a groan, arms crossed. “Seriously? One bed?”
Jack slammed the door behind him, pretending to fume. “Seriously? One bed? This is outrageous.”
You matched his theatrics perfectly. “It’s absurd! Who thought two professionals could possibly share a bed?”
“Ridiculous,” he shot back, pacing. “I will not compromise my personal space.”
“Neither will I,” you spat, pointing at him. “Absolutely unacceptable.”
Atlas, standing in the doorway with a brow raised, blinked. “Uh… you two… can’t you just—”
“No.” Jack cut him off immediately. “Absolutely not. I will not swap beds with anyone else.”
You nodded furiously. “Me neither! This is our fight.”
Merritt leaned against the wall, smirking. “Uh… you can swap with one of us, you know?”
Jack’s jaw tightened. “No.”
You nodded, eyes narrowing. “…No. This is our battle.”
The Horsemen exchanged glances. “…Oh,” Atlas said slowly, like he’d just realized you two were… insane.
For a few minutes, you and Jack huffed, groaned, and dramatically threw pillows at each other, pretending to be utterly miserable.
Then, once the “audience” of Horsemen had left the room, the act fell away. You sank onto the edge of the bed, arms crossed, pretending indignation, but your heart was racing far too fast to maintain the act.
Jack flopped down opposite you, giving you a mock glare. “I can’t believe I have to share a bed with you, of all people.”
“Oh, please,” you shot back, tone clipped, though your lips twitched. “I’d rather sleep on the floor than next to you.”
He tilted his head, grin softening. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely,” you said, sitting up a little straighter, trying—and failing—to look indignant.
Jack leaned closer, dangerously close, just enough that your knees brushed. “You know, it’s kind of… nice. This closeness,” he murmured, voice low.
You froze, heart stuttering. “…Nice?”
“Yeah,” he said, reaching out just a fingertip, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I mean… not that I like having you near me or anything.”
“Of course not,” you said quickly, voice sharp, but you didn’t pull away.
Jack smirked, inching even closer, his arm brushing yours. “Good. Me neither.”
You let out a soft laugh, the tension melting a little. “We’re really bad at pretending, aren’t we?”
“Terrible,” he agreed, pressing his hand lightly against yours under the blanket. “But it’s… kind of fun.”
You glanced at him, and in that small, cramped hotel room, with one bed between you and the world outside, it did feel fun. It felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
Jack leaned back, still holding your hand, eyes twinkling. “Just… try not to smile too much. The others are watching.”
“I can’t make any promises,” you whispered, squeezing his hand.
-
The morning sun had barely crept into the tiny hotel room when the soft click of a lock made you stir.
Jack, still half-asleep, grumbled something incoherent, arm draped over your shoulder as you nestled your head against his chest. The blankets were tangled around both of you, limbs impossibly intertwined, and for once, the world outside this small, one-bed room didn’t exist.
Then the door burst open.
And there they were: Atlas, Merritt, Henley, and Lula, all standing in the doorway with arms crossed, expressions a mixture of triumph, amusement, and barely contained laughter.
You froze, Jack’s arm tightening around you instinctively.
“…Oh,” Henley breathed.
Jack blinked, sitting up slightly, hair mussed, face pink. “Uh… what—?”
Atlas stepped forward, smirking. “Don’t even try it. We knew.”
“We knew you two would act like this,” Merritt added, voice dripping amusement. “Which is exactly why we hid it for as long as we could. We thought maybe you’d, I don’t know… keep up the act forever.”
You buried your face further into Jack’s chest, mortified, while he ran a hand over his hair, trying to look composed. “We… we can explain,” he muttered, voice low and flustered.
“You don’t have to,” Lula said cheerfully, grinning from ear to ear. “The bed kind of gave it away.”
Henley shook her head, a slow smile forming. “Oh, come on. I knew it. All those ridiculous fake arguments last night? Total cover. I should’ve bet on it.”
Jack groaned, leaning back against the headboard. “We were pretending! Totally pretending!”
“Pretending?” Atlas echoed, voice flat, eyebrow raised. “You two looked like kittens tangled in a blanket.”
You peeked up at them, cheeks flaming, and Jack muttered under his breath, “We’re doomed.”
Merritt chuckled, stepping closer. “Doomed? Nah. Adorable, maybe. But definitely caught.”
You swatted at him, flustered. “We weren’t caught! We—”
Henley leaned in, voice teasing, cutting you off. “Yep. Totally caught. And the best part? You both thought you were so sly.”
Jack sighed, burying his face in his hands. “We’re never living this down, are we?”
Atlas shook his head, smirking. “Nope. Not a chance. But honestly… I knew.”
You peeked at Jack, half-laughing, half-mortified. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, whispering, “I told you we should’ve been more subtle.”
Lula laughed, pointing at the bed. “Subtle? You were practically screaming ‘secret couple’ with every pillow toss last night!”
You groaned dramatically, pretending indignation, while Jack wrapped an arm around you again. “Fine. Admit it,” he murmured, smirking. “It was kind of worth it.”
You buried your face against his chest, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah… kind of.”
Atlas shook his head again, smiling knowingly. “Just don’t act like you two can hide it next time. We’re onto you.”
Merritt added, smirking: “And we’ll make sure everyone else knows the moment you try.”
Jack muttered under his breath, “Great. Life’s over.”
You squeezed his hand, grinning. “Nah. Life’s just officially… more fun.”
And for once, even with the Horsemen watching, the fake hatred, the pretending, the secrecy—it all felt completely, wonderfully pointless. Because now everyone knew, and somehow, it didn’t matter at all.
wc: 4.2k
