First Show, First Kiss, First Everything
Jack Wilder x Reader
Warnings: fluff, soft intimacy, explicit content, kissing, gentle first time vibes, emotional connection, slow build, nervous Jack, reader is adult, comfort, soft aftercare, magic show setting, backstage moments, mutual pining turning real
Before the Horsemen were famous, you and Jack stumbled into first love behind the lights of their earliest show.
The night before the Horsemen’s first big show felt like the whole world was inhaling and holding it.
The backstage of the Las Vegas theater they’d be performing at buzzed with a nervous, excited electricity that settled into the walls like static. Curtains whispered when the air shifted. Footsteps echoed unevenly across the scuffed concrete floors. Somewhere in the maze of dressing rooms, Henley practiced timing. Merritt argued with someone over a missing pair of sunglasses. Atlas paced the hallway like a king waiting to be crowned.
Everything was loud, intense, tilted toward greatness.
And then there was Jack.
You found him in the one quiet corner of the building, tucked behind a stack of crates filled with props. A single warm bulb hummed overhead, casting a soft golden circle around him. He sat on the floor with his legs stretched out, back pressed to a wooden crate, a deck of cards flipping between his fingers in a restless blur.
Only, he wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t bragging. He wasn’t showing off.
He looked human. Tired. Young. Nervous.
You watched him for a few seconds before stepping into the light. “Hiding?”
Jack’s head snapped up so fast a card flicked out of his hand and skidded across the floor. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.” He exhaled dramatically. “You scared me.”
“You scare pretty easily for a magician.”
“That’s because you sneak up on me like some kind of ninja,” he said, but his voice was soft, almost shy. He gestured to the empty space near him. “Come sit. Please.”
You lowered yourself beside him, knees brushing. Jack stiffened, then relaxed with a small, shaky smile.
The backstage noises faded as the quiet between you settled into something warm, something familiar.
“You nervous about the show?” you asked gently.
Jack let his head fall back against the crate. “I’m terrified.”
You blinked. “You? Terrified?”
He laughed weakly. “Don’t tell Atlas. He’d have me mopping the stage for saying it out loud.”
The cards stilled in his hands, and he stared down at them.
“I just… I really want this to be good,” he said, voice breaking a little. “The show, the team, the dream. Everything. It feels like this is my shot and if I mess it up, I’ll never get another one.”
You shifted closer, shoulder touching his. “Jack. You’re the heart of this team. You’re the spark.”
He looked at you like he wasn’t used to hearing that from anyone. Like it meant more than you realized.
The bulb overhead buzzed. Jack’s breath trembled. He whispered, “You make me less scared.”
You touched his hand. “Because I believe in you.”
His fingers curled around yours, tentative at first, then firmer when you didn’t pull away. His breath caught like he couldn’t handle how good that felt.
“Can I tell you something?” Jack asked quietly.
“Anything.”
He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on your joined hands. “I like you. Not in a little crush way. Not in a hey, you’re cute way. More like… when I think about this show being perfect, you’re part of that picture. Part of what makes me brave enough to get through it.”
Your heart skipped.
He finally looked up at you, eyes bright and nervous. “Please say that’s not weird.”
“It’s not weird,” you breathed. “It’s really sweet.”
Jack’s breath eased, his shoulders loosening. “You’re not gonna run away?”
“I’m right here,” you said.
He let out a soft laugh that sounded almost relieved. “Good. Because I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks and if I don’t do it now I might combust.”
You leaned in first. “Then kiss me, Jack.”
His lips met yours gently at first, warm and careful, like he was afraid of getting it wrong. You cupped his cheek, guiding him, and that was all it took for him to melt into the kiss. He sighed against your mouth, fingers sliding up your arm, trembling with how badly he wanted to touch you.
The kiss deepened slowly, sweetly, the kind that builds heat gradually, naturally, without rushing.
Jack pulled back just enough to whisper, “I want you. I want all of this. But only if you really want it too.”
You brushed your lips against his. “I do.”
His breath hitched, the kind of sound someone makes when a wish comes true.
You pulled him closer, settling into his lap, your knees bracketing his hips. Jack flushed but didn’t hesitate. His hands settled on your waist, gentle and reverent.
“I’ve never done this with someone I care about,” he admitted quietly. “So just… guide me if I’m awkward.”
You kissed him again, slow, reassuring. “I’ll take care of you.”
His eyes softened, his body relaxing under your touch, and the two of you moved together into something warm, intimate, exploratory. Every kiss deeper than the last, every touch tender and patient. Jack’s nervous laughter between soft moans, your hands learning him, his breath catching when you whispered his name.
Jack made you feel cherished, and you made him feel chosen.
And before the night ended, before the lights and the cheering crowds and the storm of fame that would change everything, Jack held you close and whispered:
“You’re my first real magic.”
