human!jax x reader, human!au (everyone works in a real circus), reader is gender-neutral, fluff with suggestive ending, no beta we die like caine
word count: 3175
sypnosis: the audience loves the flirting. caine loves the ticket sales. jax loves being an unbearable menace to society.
you, unfortunately, might love him too.
The first time Jax threw a knife at you, it missed your head by less than half an inch.
The audience went absolutely insane.
You did too, actually, though your screams had significantly more profanity in them.
“What is actually wrong with you?” you hissed through a strained smile, your microphone picking up every word.
Across the ring, Jax looked entirely too pleased with himself. “Relax, sweetheart,” he drawled, twirling another knife lazily between his fingers. Completely unfazed. “If I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t waste a good opening act on it.”
The crowd burst into laughter.
And somewhere high above the ring, Caine realized he’d struck gold.
That had been eight months ago. Which, apparently, was all it took.
One near-death experience and a couple improvised insults later, the audience had apparently decided that the knife thrower and the circus darling had weirdly good chemistry together. Suddenly, the act everybody expected to fail became the most popular performance in the entire show.
Honestly, you blamed Caine.
The man saw audience reactions the way starving people saw food. The second the crowd started eating up the banter, the ringmaster had practically lost his mind. Ticket sales exploded almost immediately after. People started showing up specifically for performances with Jax, which was especially irritating considering you’d already been doing perfectly fine before all this.
You had your own act. Your own audience. You’d spent years building a reputation at the circus completely separate from him. Back before this “disaster duo” nonsense, your name regularly floated near the top of audience popularity rankings alongside Pomni and Kinger.
Then Jax happened.
Or more specifically, Jax’s previous partners kept quitting.
Apparently, getting knives thrown at your face by a man who treated workplace safety like a personal insult created a pretty brutal turnover rate. The last assistant had lasted exactly nine days before threatening to unionize against him personally.
Caine had cornered you after rehearsal one night with the desperate expression of a man moments away from financial collapse. You would come to remember this moment as a personal betrayal.
“PLEASE,” your ringmaster had begged dramatically. “Just until we find someone permanent!”
Unfortunately, nobody else wanted the job.
Unfortunately for you, you and Jax worked disgustingly well together.
Now, months later, he sat comfortably at number one in the circus popularity rankings while you’d dropped to third, right beneath Pomni.
Jax had been absolutely unbearable about it.
“Damn,” he’d sighed after seeing the newest poll results taped outside the dressing rooms. “Third place? That’s rough, sweetheart.”
You crossed your arms. “You realize people only like you because I make you tolerable, right?”
To your immense satisfaction, he actually froze for a second.
His grin faltered slightly before recovering. “Whoa, alright. Somebody’s gettin’ jealous.” He pointed at you accusingly. “Not my fault the public loves me. I’m very marketable.”
“You throw knives at me professionally.”
“Yeah, professionally. There’s a difference.”
The worst part was that Jax wasn’t even trying to flirt half the time. He just existed like that naturally, all lazy smirks and smug little comments tossed over his shoulder like he couldn’t help himself. It got under people’s skin almost instantly. Yours included.
Especially yours.
“Careful, doll,” he’d murmur while adjusting your positioning before a trick. “Keep lookin’ at me like that and people’re gonna start talkin’.”
And because you were unfortunately capable of speaking back to him:
“Trust me, nobody’s fantasizing about the guy who nearly got banned from rehearsal for ‘creative knife usage.’”
That one had actually made him choke on his drink.
The truly infuriating part about Jax was that he could dish out teases endlessly without shame, but the second you turned it back on him, he completely short-circuited. Not obviously…that would require emotional maturity. Instead, he got defensive and vaguely rude in a way that only made it funnier.
Once, after nearly an hour of him relentlessly flirting with you backstage, you’d reached up to fix the collar of his costume jacket and casually remarked,
“You clean up nice.”
Jax had stared at you for a solid three seconds like you’d just shot him.
Then, he pulled away so fast it was almost embarrassing.
“…Wow. Okay. Don’t do that again.”
You blinked. “Do what?”
“Ugh. Don’t do that weird sincere thing.” He grabbed another knife off the table entirely too fast. “It’s freakin’ me out.”
Another time, after he spent an entire rehearsal calling you dollface every five seconds, you finally sighed and said,
“You know, for somebody this cocky, you get flustered pretty easily.”
He nearly dropped a knife directly onto his foot.
You’d never recovered emotionally from it.
The audience, meanwhile, became obsessed.
It had started with clips online: little backstage moments caught on camera, audience recordings of your banter during performances. Then came the edits, compilations, and entire comment sections debating whether the flirting was scripted or if the two of you were genuinely together.
Caine encouraged all of it shamelessly.
“THE TENSION!” he’d shouted excitedly after one particularly chaotic performance. “The chemistry! The yearning! The ticket sales!”
You’d nearly walked directly into traffic.
Now, months later, the two of you were basically inseparable in the audience’s eyes. If Jax showed up somewhere backstage, people immediately expected you nearby. Fan compilations online had titles like five straight minutes of jax looking at his partner like he’s insane and sexual tension or workplace hostility? scientists still unsure.
Jax, naturally, thought this was the funniest thing in the world.
“You know,” he’d said one afternoon while scrolling through clips of your performances on his phone, “I think this one’s my favorite.”
You glanced over from your spot stretched across one of the rehearsal mats. The video playing was from the previous week’s finale, zoomed in dramatically on the exact moment you’d rolled your eyes at him after he pinned a knife between your fingers.
The comments beneath it were significantly worse:
THEY ARE ABSOLUTELY DATING
the tension is making me physically ill
this is either foreplay or attempted murder
You groaned immediately. “Give me that.”
Jax held the phone out of reach before you could grab it, grinning lazily. “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart. Don’t be shy. The public’s invested in our beautiful relationship.”
“We are not in a relationship.”
“Mm.” He tilted the phone toward himself again. “You say that, but this person thinks we’ve secretly been together for six months.”
“That person is delusional.”
“Yeah, but they made a pretty convincing slideshow.”
You threw a roll of athletic tape at his head.
Unfortunately, he caught it without even looking.
Tonight’s show was completely sold out. Again.
You could hear the crowd before you even reached the curtain, the noise vibrating through the canvas walls while performers rushed around backstage in various stages of panic. Kaufmo sprinted past you, carrying juggling pins. Ragatha was trying to calm Pomni down over a costume mishap. Zooble was sprinting past you, loudly threatening violence over missing props.
Normal circus chaos.
Jax, meanwhile, sat sprawled across one of the equipment crates, effortlessly spinning a knife between his fingers while stage makeup glittered faintly beneath the dressing room lights.
“You’re staring,” he said without looking up.
“I literally am not.”
“Sure.” He caught the knife cleanly. “That sounded believable.”
You adjusted one of the straps on your costume in the nearby mirror. Compared to the elaborate outfits you wore for your solo performances, the knife-act costumes were simpler, with easier movement. Less fabric for Jax to accidentally pin to a wall…again.
Though, to be fair, he had apologized for that one. Sort of.
“You know,” he mused casually, clipping his microphone pack onto the back of his belt, “if you die tonight, I’m gonna get sooo much bad press.”
“That’s your concern?”
“Well, yeah. Do you know how annoying paperwork is?”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Jax looked up immediately.
That expression flickered across his face, the one you’d started noticing recently whenever you laughed around him. Softer somehow, less guarded.
It vanished beneath another grin.
“Wow,” he said. “You’re lookin’ at me like you wanna kiss me.”
“Maybe I just enjoy bad decisions.”
The second the words left your mouth, Jax visibly froze.
His eyebrows lifted slightly. Then he looked away too fast, jaw tightening.
“…wow,” he muttered. “You really just say stuff now, huh?”
The victory you felt was immediate and immense.
Before you could enjoy it further, a stagehand shoved aside the curtain. “You two are up!”
The crowd erupted the moment you stepped into the spotlight.
Jax came alive instantly beneath stage lights. Every lazy grin sharpened into something magnetic as applause thundered around the tent. He moved like he belonged under attention.
Honestly, he probably did.
“Evenin’, folks,” he called into the microphone curled against his cheek. “Who’s ready to watch me make terrible life choices professionally?”
The crowd cheered.
Beside him, you sighed into your own mic. “That’s actually the title of his autobiography.”
Laughter rippled through the audience instantly.
“Wow.” Jax placed a hand dramatically against his chest. “Public humiliation in front of my fans.”
“Your fans are mostly here for me.”
“Oh, absolutely not.” He pointed toward the crowd. “C’mon, let’s not lie to people we care about.”
The act began smoothly after that. Knives flashed silver beneath golden circus lights, embedding themselves around your body with terrifying precision. A few inches away from your shoulder, others surrounding your waist.
Jax never missed.
That was the thing most people didn’t understand about him. Beneath all the jokes and recklessness and smug little comments, he was frighteningly attentive during performances. His eyes tracked every movement you made before you even made it.
He trusted himself completely.
And somehow, unbelievably, you trusted him too.
The finale approached quickly. You stepped against the spinning target board as the music swelled louder through the tent. Across the stage, Jax rolled another knife across his knuckles.
“Any last words?” he asked into the mic.
“Yeah,” you replied dryly. “You should genuinely be institutionalized.”
The crowd burst into laughter again.
The board began spinning, slowly at first, then faster.
Knives struck around you in rapid succession, each one landing with deadly precision. One beside your head, another near your thigh. Another between your fingers.
The final blade slammed into the wood inches from your throat.
Silence.
Then thunderous applause.
Jax crossed the stage toward you slowly as the audience screamed around him. Usually, this was where he’d grab your hand and you’d bow together beneath the spotlight before the curtains closed.
Tonight, though, he stopped too close.
Close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him beneath the stage lights.
The audience noticed immediately.
Jax extended his hand toward you slowly.
You took it.
Instead of immediately bowing, his fingers tightened briefly around yours. His gaze flicked toward your mouth, then back to your eyes.
“Y’look nervous, sweetheart,” he murmured through the microphone.
Your heartbeat stumbled.
“I’m not.”
“Yeah?” His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles. “Then why’re you holdin’ onto me like that?”
Heat rushed violently into your face.
Because unfortunately, your other hand had curled instinctively into the front of his jacket.
The audience LOST IT.
Jax broke out into a cheshire grin at your expression, but for once, the smugness looked thinner than usual. Almost uncertain.
The two of you bowed together beneath the screaming crowd.
Neither of you chose to be the first one to let go.
Backstage after performances always felt strange. The adrenaline lingered in the air long after the applause faded, leaving everything hazy around the edges. Performers rushed through the narrow corridors in various stages of costume removal while stagehands hauled props toward storage.
You pushed through the stage door and began your trek to your dressing room, barely making it halfway through the deserted hall before Jax caught your wrist.
“Hey.”
You turned.
For once, he wasn’t grinning. Not fully, anyway.
“You changed the finale tonight,” you murmured quietly.
Jax scoffed, though the sound came out strained. “What, now you’re against artistic expression?”
“You know what I mean.”
He looked away first. That felt important somehow.
“Crowd liked it,” he muttered.
“We both know I’m not talking about the crowd.”
He didn’t have an answer to that.
Jax leaned his back against the wall beside the prop room entrance, arms folded tightly across his chest. Defensive.
You stepped closer.
“Jax.”
“What?”
“You almost kissed me out there.”
He barked out a laugh immediately. Too fast.
“Oh my god.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “You say that like it’s some kinda tragedy.”
“That’s not what I said.”
His jaw tightened briefly. “Yeah, well this kinda destroys my whole thing, doesn’t it?”
“…your reputation?”
“Yeah.” He gestured vaguely. “My whole thing.”
“You mean being emotionally repressed?”
“See, this is what I’m talking about. You’re mean to me.”
You laughed softly.
Jax’s expression faltered immediately at the sound.
There it was again: that tiny crack in the armor every time you looked at him too gently.
Before he could recover, you stepped closer again, close enough now that his back brushed the wall behind him.
For the first time all night, Jax looked genuinely nervous.
“…you’re standin’ weirdly close right now,” he muttered.
“Are you going to do something about it?”
“...don’t tempt me.” But his voice had gone quieter. Softer.
Your hand slid against the front of his costume jacket slowly, fingers curling lightly into the fabric. Jax inhaled sharply.
“This feels psychologically targeted.”
You laughed again.
His eyes dropped to your mouth.
“You know,” you murmured, “you can’t be all bark and no bite.”
“Yeah, alright.” He swallowed hard. “Can you not say things like that while lookin’ at me like—”
“Like what?”
Jax stared at you for half a second too long.
Then suddenly he was kissing you.
Months of tension crashed into you all at once as he chased your lips, his hands grabbing your waist hard enough to pull you flush against him, flipping your position. Your back slammed against the wall, and Jax laughed breathlessly against your mouth like he couldn’t believe this was happening.
“There,” he murmured, pausing to let you breathe. “Happy now?”
“Extremely.”
“Yeah?” Another kiss, slower this time. His forehead dropped against yours as he sighed, “that’s embarrassing for you.”
You broke the kiss long enough to glare at him.
It worked for approximately three seconds.
Then Jax was on you again.
Messier this time. One of his hands slid up your side before tangling itself into the fabric against your waist, as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or steady himself. His other hand stayed planted firmly beside your head, keeping you pinned against the wall while the adrenaline from the performance still crackled between both of you.
You could feel him smiling against your mouth.
Which, honestly, felt a little unfair.
“You are unbelievably smug for somebody who panicked just thirty seconds ago,” you murmured breathlessly.
Jax pulled back just enough to look at you, hair slightly disheveled from your hands dragging through it. “I wasn’t panicking.”
“You looked moments away from cardiac arrest.”
“Yeah, well…I’m naturally very charismatic under pressure.”
You laughed softly at that.
This time, he didn’t bother joking his way out of it.
His thumb brushed absentmindedly against your waist, eyes flicking over your face with an unfamiliar sort of hesitation. Like he still hadn’t fully processed that this was real.
“You know,” you murmured, “the audience is gonna lose their minds when they find out.”
That snapped him back instantly.
“Oh, absolutely not.” Jax pointed at you accusingly. “We are not becoming one of those couples.”
You blinked. “One of those couples?”
“Yeah, y’know.” He gestured vaguely. “Gross, happy, annoying.”
“We literally just made out after months of unresolved tension.”
“Yeah, but we did it with dignity, dollface.”
You stared at him for a moment before laughing hard enough that he groaned dramatically and dropped his forehead against your shoulder.
“This is terrible,” he muttered. “You’re gonna get way worse now.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.” He looked back up at you with a grin that finally looked genuine instead of defensive. “You’ve been doin’ weird psychological damage to me for months.”
“You started it!”
“Yeah, well.” His ears flushed faintly pink again. “Didn’t think it’d become, like… a whole thing.”
Something warm tugged unexpectedly at your chest.
Jax noticed immediately, because of course he did.
“…don’t look at me like that either,” he warned.
“Like what?”
He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I can throw a knife from here, y’know.”
You only rolled your eyes.
He kissed you before you could answer, like that somehow solved the problem. It didn’t, obviously, but judging by the way he lingered afterward, maybe neither of you really minded anymore.
You stayed like that for what felt like eternity, locked in each other’s embrace, before Jax pulled away, panting. He stayed close, one hand firm at your waist while both of you caught your breath in the quiet stretch of the hallway. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzed beneath your skin, sharp and electric.
His grip remained tight at your waist as he locked eyes with you, pupils blown wide.
“You have any idea,” he murmured, voice rougher than before, “how hard it’s been not to do that?”
Your heartbeat stumbled.
“You flirt with everyone.”
“Yeah.” His mouth brushed yours again briefly. “But you’re the only one makin’ me lose my mind a little.”
His hand slid slowly from your waist up along your side before settling against the back of your neck, fingers tangling lightly into your hair as he kissed you again, slower now, but somehow even more dangerous than before.
Your fingers fisted into the front of his jacket, and Jax groaned softly against your mouth before pulling you flush against him again.
“See?” he murmured breathlessly between kisses. “This is exactly why we can’t become one of those gross couples.”
“You are literally making out with me in a hallway.”
“Yeah, but, like…” Another kiss interrupted him briefly. “In a cool way.”
You laughed into his mouth, and Jax groaned dramatically before kissing you harder for it, one hand pressing against the wall beside your head while the other stayed firm at your waist. He still wasn’t fully convinced you were real.
“…quit lookin’ at me like that,” he muttered weakly against your lips.
His fingers tightened at your waist again. “Like I’m worth keepin’ around.”
The warmth in your chest nearly hurt.
Jax made a quiet sound against your mouth, something halfway between surprise and relief, before kissing you harder again. One hand slipped beneath your thigh, hooking firmly around it as he pulled you flush against him like he was trying to eliminate whatever space still existed between you.
“…yeah, alright,” Jax breathed against your mouth, already pulling you away from the wall. “This hallway’s suddenly feelin’ real inconvenient.”
His hand tightened beneath your thigh when you laughed.
“Dressing room,” he murmured against your lips before kissing you again. “Now.”
a/n: gosh i love this annoying little specimen, but BOY is he harder to write compared to caine...
hope everyone enjoyed, lmk if you would like to see more jax in the future!!
P.S. my prompts are very lonely right now and very empty....pls fill them up
I found dead squirrels with no eyes in my yard 2 days in a row
My only guess of how they died is my neighborhood’s “outdoor cats”, although they usually only kill and leave birds, mice, voles, etc. They were both in the front yard under a tree a bit apart from each other. The spots they were in happens to be the same area my family found a pile of baby rabbits (all but 1 dead) back in 2022.
I’m going to keep them until they rot so I can keep their bones, but I hope this doesn’t become a regular thing.
