jaxism

[jaxism]

𝓫rief. fluff/comfort, insinuations to sex, written with fem!reader in mind. jax being afraid to lose you :(

“do you think crazy people know, like, that they’re crazy?”

your legs are draped across jax’s lap, a pillow clutched to your chest. he hasn’t moved you, claiming you’d just climb back on him, anyway. you suspect (or hope, at least) there’s more to it than that, judging by the gentle dusting of pink on his cheeks.

he snorts, clicking the pen he’s been fiddling with. “i dunno, doll. wanna test kinger’s self-awareness?”

you frown at his response, unpleased. god forbid you try and have an actual conversation with him. “i don’t need to,” you retort. “i asked you, remember?”

pointedly, he taps your nose with the end of the pen. “hey, now, i’m not crazy. i just drive people crazy.”

you roll your eyes and chuck a stuffed animal at him, which he, annoyingly, catches with ease. “trust me, i’m aware.”

“aw, don’t say you’re sick of me already. it’s not like i don’t know how to give you a good time,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

your neck flushes, and you toss another plushie at him. this time, he’s busy laughing at you and doesn’t catch it. “oh, my god. you really are a bunny.” you can’t help it, though. his laughter is contagious, and your embarrassed pout turns into a sheepish giggle.

when the noise dies down, he turns to look at you. really look at you, in a way he doesn’t with anyone else. there’s a flicker of both vulnerability and concern in his eyes before the mask slips back on, and it's just supposed to be teasing. you see through it, though. you always see through jax.

he tilts his head at you. “seriously, what’s up? don’t tell me you’re gonna go off and abstract on me.” he’s smiling, but it’s not the same as before. it’s forced.

“oh, jax. no, of course not.” your brows furrow, and you shake your head. “i wasn’t—i mean, i’m not going to abstract, promise.” putting your hand on his, you scoot closer. “i… i have you, right? and, you know, you have me. we’ve got each other, if nothing else, and that’s enough.”

his arms wrap around you, and you tuck your head under his chin. you know he’s not good with words, but he doesn’t have to be. you’re aware that he’s there, and that it’s real. what you have is real. not perfect, necessarily, but the beautiful things rarely are.

“okay. good.” he sounds more relieved, and the tightness in his throat is replaced by something softer, warmer, and more precious. it’s sacred, and it makes you appreciate these moments even more. “who else would i test out my world-class pranks on?”

you roll your eyes playfully. dryly, you snort, “careful now. i might start to think you actually care about me.”

but the way he keeps you flush against him, kissing the top of your head, you know he does. because this is what love looks like.

this is what your love looks like.