jax x reader . ep6 spoilers, violence, sadistic banter, manipulation, cruelty, dark humour, implied gore/graphic imagery, winner’s high, unhealthy relationship
The winner takes it all, the loser has to fall.
you were still holding the gun when the game ended. it felt wrong in your hands, too heavy, absurdly oversized for your fingers, which trembled despite one heart above your head blinking proudly at full. a win.
somehow, your team had outlasted them all. Ragatha, Kinger, Zooble, Gangle, Pomni. . . one by one, their respawns had faded until it was just you, standing in the hollow circus corridor.
you were thinking, too deeply maybe, about how easy it had been to shoot, pull the trigger and watch red hearts shatter like glass. back before the circus, you’d never even held a gun, never even thought about what it meant to really end someone. and yet here you were, victor by elimination, murderer in a world where murder didn’t really count but still felt so heavy in the pit of your chest.
nothing had prepared you for the sensation of aiming and pulling and watching someone’s head blossom in a flash of pixels. but the circus broke the rules. here murder was a game. laughing at someone else’s death was considered normal, if you look at Jax’s behavior. and if for you it was a shock, for Jax it was a feast. he enjoyed every shot.
out of nowhere, cold metal touched your temple and you jolted, nearly dropping the weapon in your grip.
“bang,” Jax’s voice lilted mockingly, warm breath brushing your ear. “you’re dead! oh waittt, no no no, looks like you already did the killing for me.” he nudged the gun playfully against your skin before flicking it away.
you whipped around, pulse leaping into your throat, only to find him grinning ear to ear, holding a pistol sideways as if it was a toy.
“you’re a real riot,” you hissed, forcing yourself not to step back.
“hey, don’t blame me, sweetheart. you’re the one holding a rifle bigger than your whole damn arm span,” Jax drawled, gesturing lazily to the gun you clutched. “oh it’s hilarious! especially from the rookie who just blew holes through their friends. hell, i’m impressed. didn’t think you had it in you.” he clicked his tongue, sighing with satisfaction. “so tell me. first kill? or you’ve got a little history i don’t know about?”
you went silent. the thought pressed itself in again and again, nauseating in its bluntness. killing. shooting. murdering. even if it wasn’t real, it felt real, and there was no way to scrub the image of Ragatha’s head cracking apart or Gangle staggering before collapsing. what was worse, there had been a moment where it hadn’t felt awful at all. a split-second where it had almost felt easy.
you let out a sharp, shaky laugh, but quickly composed yourself, a smile on your face.
“oh please, partner. this is the first time i’ve even touched a gun!” then you narrowed your eyes at him, tilting your head to be mocking as you grinned. “you, on the other hand, you looked like you were born with one. ever killed anybody before?”
a joke meant to echo his own dark humor back at him. nothing bad, you're joking, right?
but for some reason you couldn’t quite understand, Jax’s face changed. the cocky smirk froze, fading away. his pupils shrank, and his expression turned glassy distant, and that exact look, on someone like him, was more terrifying than the barrel pressed to your temple.
a silence thickened until he finally recovered. “depends. you mean the people in the circus or the ones before the circus?“ he blinked and snapped back, returning to his usual laughter, putting on a happy mask. and again, the gun was near your head, sending an unpleasant chill through your body.
you rolled your eyes, but your grip on your gun tightened. “you’re %$!#”
“takes one to know one.”
the silence stretched.
you broke it because his stare was starting to itch into your skull. “i just. . . y'know, i feel bad about Gangle,” you muttered, looking past him, to the bright colored curtains. “she was running, and i just shot her in the back. i—“
oh here you go whining again. and what now, he’s supposed to comfort you? what the hell did you come up with this time? maybe hug you, pat your head and tell you everything’s gonna be fine? bullshit.
Jax barked a mocking laugh that cut you off. “oh my god. really? you’re gonna start crying over shooting the sad noodle? that was the whole point of the game.”
“it didn’t feel like a game.” you looked down at the floor, guiltily hiding your gaze. “she trusted me.”
“no, don't be so naive. she trusted Zooble. and you blew her spine out mid-sprint. which, i gotta admit, was pretty awesome.”
“you don’t even care who you hurt, do you?”
if only you knew what you just said, what wound you touched.
your words made Jax take a step forward as he closed the gap until your back found the wall. the sound of the gun clicking against your temple was deafening in the empty corridor. his face was too close, despite the rising anger, creepy grin still slashed across his mouth.
“care?” he asked again. “sweetheart, you still don't understand? none of this is real. none of them matter. they’re dolls. props. toys for me to break when i’m bored. i like watching them squirm. you think i’m here to make friends?” Jax leaned harder, gun biting your skin. “i’m here to make it hurt. and this is what i find funny.”
looking into his eyes then, the thought came to you that this asshole was just bluffing, that there was a hollow place in him too cowardly to follow through. “you don’t mean it.” your breath stuttered, but you didn’t look away.
anger snapped in his expression. Jax pressed harder. “the hell i don't, sweetie.” and then, looking at your face, at that fucking fear you tried so hard to hide under a mask, Jax broke into insane laughter, still holding the gun right beside you. “you think i'm what, bluffing?”
feeling threatened, your hand tightened around your own weapon and without thinking you lifted it, pressing firmly to the side of his temple. a mirror, a perfect cruel reflection.
“you gonna shoot me, sweetheart?” Jax taunted, leaning into your gun. “blow my brains out? go for it! i bet it’d look beautiful, red and gray all over you. i could return the favor, you know. put one through those lips. watch the blood pour down your chin.”
“or i could just paint the wall with your head,” you snapped back, pressing harder. “maybe i’ll carve a hole in that smug grin or gut you instead. watch you laugh with your insides spilling.”
“god, you’re cute when you try to play psycho,” he sneered, though his grip on his gun trembled imperceptibly. “but you know, you shouldn't get carried away like that if you don't want to see your brains dripping down that wall. i could put this through your jaw right now. blow your teeth out the back of your skull.”
“you won’t,” you answered surprisingly steady.
Jax’s face twisted. “you don’t know a damn thing about what i will or won’t.”
“no,” your eyes held his, unwavering, “i do. you don’t mean any of it.”
Jax’s aggression grew with every second, with every fucking word out of your mouth and that expression on your face scared, pathetic, and fucking reminding him of someone. oh, how he hated everything happening right now. anger, shame, shame, so much shame, and fear he refused to admit burned through his face.
Jax leaned closer, pressing harder, forcing a groan of pain out of you. “don’t. test. me.”
whatever happens, happens. you pressed the barrel harder to his temple in response, threatening him too, your voice was almost pitying, and that made it worse.
“you don’t scare me, Jax. not with your cheap tricks, not with your toy guns. all that cruel %$!# you say, you’re just hiding. you’d never pull the trigger on me. because then you’d have no one left to laugh at, no one left to follow you around. what would you be? some sad clown with nobody left to mock? without me, you’re just a coward hiding behind jokes, terrified someone might see how %$!# lonely and pathetic you are.”
well, it seemed this little adventure had at least one upside. now Jax knew exactly what you thought of him. at least someone dared to say it right into his cocky fake ever-smiling face.
oh what’s wrong, bunny boy? what’s with those shocked eyes, glassy, without the usual spark of your stupid so called fun? why is he staring right through you? why, for the first time, did that look carry rage, raw, real, unmasked?
Jax’s thoughts were racing, but he refused to let himself show weakness.
and before another word could dig into that wound, his mouth slammed down in a rough kiss, silencing you with bruising force.
he gripped your clothes tight, and you couldn’t even respond properly, couldn’t kiss him back, because that bastard literally wouldn’t let you move.
your lips, your stupidly kissable lips.
kisses scared Jax, any action that could be seen as meaning he actually gave a damn about you scared him. seriously? you, just another loser in the circus, the one he lies to himself about every single day, swearing he’ll forget you the moment you abstract?
kissing you or shooting you was the same thing. and Jax decided he wouldn’t deny himself either.
when he finally broke away, panting, Jax pulled the trigger without thinking too long. the shot echoed.
bright white seared across your vision, and everything was swallowed up by the void.
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