Summary: You need help writing a scene and decide to ask Shawn, who has a few questions of his own. The answers lead you to a private corner and a moment you've dreamed of.
Warnings/Word Count: fluff, first kiss, banter. 1.3k+ words
"Your one true love will be wearing sneakers and an Apple Jacks T-shirt."
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With a frustrated groan, you push your keyboard away. The scene you’re writing was supposed to be easy, but the mechanics of the characters’ actions and movements aren’t translating to the page like you’d planned.
“How do…” You trail off, clicking your tongue as you raise your hands and try to mimic the main character’s motion. Failing to figure it out, you drop your hands onto the desk. Your left hand lands on yesterday’s newspaper, the front page telling of a murder just down the street from the police station.
Shawn is probably on the case. Which means he might be at the Psych office right now. Just a few minutes away…
You’re out of your writing room and heading toward the office before you even decide to go.
“Mouse,” Gus insists, borderline insistent as you enter the Psych office.
“I’ve heard it both ways,” Shawn counters.
“No, you have not!”
You stop in the center doorway and knock on the wall, waiting for one of them to notice you.
“Mouse,” Gus mumbles before he waves to you.
“Am I interrupting?” you check.
“Who’s the villain in The Nutcracker?” Shawn asks.
“The Mouse King,” you answer.
“Thank you!” Gus exclaims, throwing his arms up.
“You’re telling me Mickey Mouse is out to kill a bunch of ballerinas?” Shawn questions. “It’s not even Christmas, Gus. What will Minnie think?”
“He’s the Mouse King not a- Shawn, have you even seen the play?” Gus demands.
Shawn tilts his head, wide-eyed as he asks, “There’s a play?”
“What are you getting your information from?” you wonder. “The Barbie movie?”
“Hey, don’t knock it, the music is good,” Shawn grumbles.
“I can’t do this with you,” Gus decides, shaking his head as he settles at his desk.
“Working a case, I presume?” you ask Shawn.
He leans back in his chair, nodding up at you.
“How’s it going?”
“Solved it. It was cold.”
“You solved a cold case?” you clarify.
“No, the crime scene was an ice rink. It was literally cold.”
“Oh.”
“What about you?” Shawn inquires. “What brings you by?”
“Peanut cart is back,” you joke.
“Really?” Gus nearly yells, his head snapping up to see you.
“No. Sorry.”
Gus tsks, drawing another apology from you. Then, you step back from Shawn’s desk.
“I actually came to ask for some help. I see you’re busy, so-”
“Help with what?” Shawn interrupts.
You shake your head and send him a small smile. “It can wait. You have cases to work.”
“It’s Uncle Dumbledore,” Shawn states. “There, done.”
“Drosselmeyer,” Gus interjects.
“Yeah, sure, what Lavender said.”
“Great work, Shawn,” you compliment. “I have no idea what that means but well done.”
Shawn waves his hand and offers a rambled explanation about character archetypes.
“You have not heard it both ways,” Gus points out at the end of the hurried monologue
“So,” Shawn draws out, looking at you rather than Gus. “What do you need help with?”
“I’m writing a book,” you begin.
“Book three in an epic series,” Shawn says, nodding.
You stop talking, surprised that he remembered.
“If you need help with that, I require payment. Preferably in the form of telling me what happens after the cliffhanger at the end of book two.”
“I can’t do that,” you argue with a smile.
Shawn frowns, then shakes his head.
“Shawn, I don’t even know what happens next yet.”
“And I sense that you’re lying.”
You roll your eyes, moving backward toward the door.
“Stop,” Shawn calls. You comply without question, so he asks, “How can I help?”
“Really?”
Shawn smiles and nods, so you offer your hand. He takes it willingly, standing and walking behind you as you move into the back of the office. You don’t see him wave excitedly at Gus or how his eyes stray to your hand in his before you stop and take a shaky breath.
“Two of the characters are having a… a passionate moment,” you explain. “And I can’t figure out how they’d move, so I can’t write it.”
Shawn doesn’t reply, keeping his eyes on you as he takes you in. Maybe he should be focused on getting another case, but it’s far more interesting to observe you. Since you entered the office, you’ve been fiddling with your fingers and pressing your lips together. You’re nervous and self-conscious about something. Not your writing, he’s sure of.
“You want a human puppet to show you the position,” Shawn accuses lightly.
“More like I need an explanation,” you murmur, failing to meet his eyes.
You haven’t looked at him yet, Shawn realizes. The closest you’ve come to seeing his face today was a quick glance at his lips. Oh.
“You’ve never been kissed.”
Your shocked look isn’t completely unexpected. The shy nod you give him is the only thing that distracts Shawn from how uncomfortable you are – your hands curled into tight fists as you shift your weight from right to left.
“You’re writing a kissing scene without knowing what it feels like,” Shawn amends.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “Could you, uh, tell me what it’s like? How you move?”
“I could,” Shawn answers carefully.
“You’re right, this is weird. I’ll just watch some romcoms. Sorry.”
“I don’t think it’s weird. Can I ask a couple questions first?”
“Sure.”
Shawn gets that faraway look in his eyes that always precedes a random but accurate divination. He’s hyper-observant, yet you’ve never minded being observed by him, even if you’re all but telling him your secrets.
“You’ve really never been kissed?” he asks.
Shaking your head, you wait for the inevitable joke. You definitely don’t expect him to nod and ask about what your characters are doing before the kiss.
“I can tell you what it’s like,” Shawn reiterates. “But I think it would be better for you to experience it.”
“Probably. But I don’t want to go find some random person to kiss just for a few sentences that I could figure out a dozen different ways.”
“Do you want your first kiss to mean something?”
You shift on your feet and ask, “Doesn’t everyone?”
“Most people, yeah.”
Shawn moves into your space, his gaze soft as he drops his eyes to your lips. Your breath catches in the proximity, your body rigid.
“Would it mean something?” he murmurs, brushing his fingers along the side of your neck.
“Yeah,” you admit. “But we don’t- you don’t-”
“What if I want to?” He pushes his bottom lip out and asks, “Would you deprive me?”
“You’re so dramatic,” you murmur.
Shawn smiles the most dangerous smile he has, the one that shows you he has a plan. “Then tell me to shut up.”
“Why?” you question.
“So, I can do this.”
This turns out to be your first kiss. Shawn moves carefully, slowly, respectfully. He cradles your face in his hands and presses his lips to yours. You imitate his movements clumsily until he brushes an arc across your throat with his thumb. Relaxing into his touch, you find your own rhythm and move with Shawn.
Before now, you’d never allowed yourself to realize how desperately you wanted this. The back room in the Psych office might not be the most romantic first kiss location in the world, but it’s still perfect.
“How was that?” Shawn asks after he pulls back.
“Good,” you whisper. “Really good.”
Shawn smiles like he just won something. “Okay, so the ice rink is out but if you want to try that on a date tonight there’s a new taco place on State Street.”
“Wait,” you request. “Are you asking me out?”
“I thought it was fairly clear. The next kiss won't be that nice and neat.”
You roll your eyes, then make another dream come true by agreeing. When you walk back into the heart of the office, Gus sends you a thumbs up. Of course he knows what just happened.
Shawn falls into his chair and pulls a copy of your last book out of his desk drawer. “Now that we’re together, I have some questions that should be answerable under date privileges.”
Hii sorry for being inactive! I was at the When We Were Young festival last weekend and have been busy with work ever since! I swear I will be doing the requests and back to writing!
Warnings: No smut (yet), Fluff, Cheek kiss, Suggestive, Johnny is a cocky sweetheart, Bam being Bam, Guys being dudes, I think that's all!
A/N: I need him carnally, if you guys like this, I'll release a part two (with smut :) ).
When you had first told your mother you were moving to LA to pursue your career, I'm sure being an assistant to a group of borderline sadistic men wasn’t what she had originally thought.
Granted, neither did you.
Yet here you are.
—
When you first moved to LA, you struggled to get your name out there. Modeling agencies weren’t accepting, even though you doubted you were pretty enough, you still applied. You didn’t want to be stuck at a 9-5 corporate job either, you would honestly rather die. So here you were, you had ended up working 5 days a week at the Trader Joe’s on Sunset Blvd. You didn’t do much, but you enjoyed the job. You worked there for about 2 months before you got a text from your manager, “There's an opening for an assistant with a filming crew.” You were walking outside to your car at the time, excited to reply, you couldn’t get there fast enough. As soon as you sat down in your beat-up cherry red ‘65 Mustang, you eagerly typed back, “What’s the pay?” When can I start?” Those three dots danced at the bottom of your screen, teasing you almost. “Good. Really good. Friday at 9 am.”. Your manager, Beth, was a woman of few words. She always had your best interests, though, given she had known you for the last few years. For the first time in a while, you were actually happy it was a Wednesday. You sped home eager to pick an outfit for your first day. Your keys clinked in your 8-ball dish by your door, sliding off your shoes by the door, you made your way to the bedroom. Opening your closet, you were bombarded with clothes. Okay, maybe you had a tiny problem.
You looked up the weather for Friday, realizing it was going to be 97 degrees. “Fuck” you muttered to yourself, thats really hot. You hate hot weather.
Friday had approached faster than you originally thought it would. You called in for work that day, not wanting to get too ahead of yourself. If this fell through, you still needed a way to pay the bills.
You woke up around 6, wanting to give yourself plenty of time to get ready. You had to make a good impression. You showered, wrapping a fluffy black towel around your body and walking back to your room.
Wanting an outfit equally cute, and being able to beat the heat, you decided on a concert outfit you wore a few months ago. It was a black tank top, denim shorts, and a black chunky crochet cardigan. Tied together with a few bracelets, a necklace, big belt, and a black newsboy cap. Simple makeup, and your black converse complimented your outfit. When you were satisfied with your appearance, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.
Since you had gotten out the door a bit earlier than expected, you decided to stop for breakfast. One iced matcha and egg sandwich later, you arrived on set. They were setting up to film the opening scene, beekini. You watched as the crew talked with the beekeepers to plan how this was going to happen. Some guy, you’d later know as Johnny Knoxville, stood on the phone verifying that he was, in fact, not allergic to honeybees. “Uhm hi, I’m here for the assistant position.” You asked the first ‘official’ looking man, introducing yourself. “Right, I’m Jeff. Nice to meet you,” he extended his hand to yours, which you took and shook. He was handsome. “So what exactly do you need me to do? I’m excited to work with you guys. Seems very interesting.” You asked Jeff, taking a sip of your matcha. “Sweetheart, interesting doesn’t begin to describe these guys,” he laughed. The two of you talked about what your position would entail. Running, getting extra shots, and angles here and there. Seems simple enough.
You had truly never seen anything like this before. Why would people go out of their way to hurt themselves? Anything for TV, you guessed.
The stunt concluded with minimal stings, and you finally got introduced to the crew. “Hi! I’m Y/n.” You introduced yourself. “She's the new assistant, be nice, boys.” Jeff followed up. “I’m Bam, and this is Ryan.” You smiled and nodded, “I totally recognize you from somewhere..” you trail off, trying to figure out how he was familiar. “I’m on MTV, might’ve been there.” The mention of MTV dawned on you. “No fucking way! You’re Bam Margera!” he smiled at your words, and Ryan buddy punched him. “Oh, you’ve gone and stroked his ego now. Everybody knows the skater boy over here.” Johnny laughed as he walked up to the group on the sidelines. “Fuck off Knoxville.” Bam laughed and rolled his eyes. “I’m Johnny, kinda run things around here,” he muttered cockily. “Right. I’m Y/n.” You smiled and kinda stood there awkwardly. “Nice to meet you Y/n.” He smiled in reply. “I like your shoes, they are very bold.” you gestured down to the converse on his feet. “See I like you already.” He gestured to you. After the filming concluded at the first set, you and the crew headed for a ranch outside LA. Johnny was going to attempt to ride a bull.
You stood around, with Jeff waiting for someone to need you. “This seems awfully dangerous, what if something goes wrong?” you asked, “In this case, we are hoping something goes wrong. Nobody wants to just watch him ride a bull,” he laughed, shaking his head. You decided to walk around and get a better look at what was going on. “So are you some kind of masochist or something?” you looked over to Johnny, who was putting on a bull vest. “Or do you like, switch out with a stunt guy?” he laughed at you, “I do all my own stunts. I don’t know anyone crazy enough to try some of the stuff I get up to.” he smiled at you, putting on a helmet someone had handed him. “You’re on Knoxville.” Ryan came up to let him know it was time to film. “Don’t die,” you said as he started to walk away. “No promises, sweetheart!” he yelled back to you. Safe to say, despite only knowing him for a few hours, you were scared for his life. Why in hell anyone willingly puts their life on the line like that was a mystery to you.
Filming wrapped up a few hours later, and you were about to go home. “You did well today, we’d like to keep you around if we didn’t scare ya off.” Jeff threw an arm around you and laughed. You leaned into him and accepted the offer, “I work at Trader Joe’s, you should see those women when anything pumpkin spice hits the shelves.” You smiled, looking up at him. “You’re funny, I like that. I think you’re a good fit for us.” You nod at his words and start to walk to your car, he stops you. “Hey, wait, we’re having a little get-together back at my place, you wanna come?” he asks. You stop at your car door and turn back to him. “Yeah, actually, sounds like fun,” you agreed. “Follow my car out, everyone else already left.” You nodded and got in your car, turning the ignition and listening to it growl.
–
It was about a 30-minute drive from where you had been filming to Jeff’s house. You struggled to find a place to park, thinking this was a small get-together. You fixed your makeup from earlier, re-applying eyeliner and mascara. Taking a deep breath, you finally got out of your car and walked into the house. “Hey, you have a killer car!” Steve-o said, beer in hand. You could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Yeah, thanks, it was my grandpa’s,” he smiled and went to sit down beside Johnny and Bam. Ryan was in the kitchen, pulling a sheet of pizza rolls out of the oven. “So, Y/n, how was your first day?” Dave asked. “Well, it was eventful to say the least,” you muttered awkwardly. “Well, get used to it, next week is gonna be wild.” Johnny butt in, southern drawl really evident now. Maybe it was the alcohol.
“Here, new girl, that hand was lookin’ a little empty,” Ryan muttered, pizza roll in mouth. Handing you a beer, you thanked him and popped the top. Taking a sip of the aluminum can, full of liquid courage.
That was the last thing you remembered from that night.
Sun beams casted warmly over the room, the pale comforter covered your body. Still clothed, thankfully. You went to get up before it registered. A warm arm thrown around your waist, anchoring you to the bed. “What the fuck?”, Your voice in a whisper. The foreign body rose up beside you, “Mornin’ darlin’”. Thick sleep coated his voice, one all too familiar. Johnny Knoxville. “Holy shit please tell me we didn’t..”, You pleaded with the man, now sat up beside you. Running your hands over your face, smudging what was left of last night’s make up, he was quick to deny your worst fear. “No sweetheart, trust me you would’ve remembered.” Your face scrunched up as you laughed, “You are disgusting.”. Finally getting out of bed you stumbled out of the bedroom to face Jeff, “Oh my God I swear we didn’t do anything I really want to keep this job please-” His voice halted your own, “I know, you had a few beers and didn’t want to drive home.”. Your hand came up to your chest, “Thank God.”. He watched the fear fall from your face, and let out a laugh. “Your keys are on the kitchen table, rest up.” He offered. “Thank you Jeff.” You muttered, and he replied with a nod.
The drive home was silent. Noise only coming from the raging A/C that was blowing in your face. Stopping by your favorite coffee spot to order an espresso. No sugary nonsense this time, you just needed caffeine and quick.
You were finally able to breathe when you threw down your keys in the dish.
Steam filled the tiled bathroom, and coated the mirror. Washing off the hangover from the night before felt like heaven. Resting up this weekend, you spent time nursing your hangover and keeping in contact with Jeff. You were put in the loop about being brought in for the second movie, helping around the set. You and Jeff had messaged prior about contracts and legal things, how much you were getting paid, things like that.
Day one of filming, they were shooting a stunt called ‘The brand’. Ryan, Bam, and Johnny were on site at a farm, Ryan equipped with a red-hot branding iron in the shape of a penis. “No fucking way is that goin’ on my ass.” Bam yelled at Ryan when he saw what he was holding. All you could do was laugh while trying to hold up the camera.
About twenty minutes of convincing was all it took. Sooner than you could say ‘jackass’, Bam was ass-down in a trough of water they had out for the animals. Despite the warning on the intro to the show and movies, they really were not equipped with professionals. Low trained stunt men and a first aid kit was just about all they had. So somehow you ended up helping Bam. “I’ve got a whole dick farm on my ass.” He muttered out, as you tried to clean up the open wound. “Yeah looks like Dunn got you pretty good didn’t he?” You laughed out while dragging the alcohol pad against the flesh of his ass. “If he would’ve stayed still he would only have one, wouldn’t you Bam Bam?” Johnny teased, as you watched them bicker. Gauze and medical tape covered the wound and you pulled up his boxers the rest of the way, followed by his dickies. “Thanks doc.” Bam winked at you, as he latched his belt. You nodded and he walked out. Johnny held back, watching closely as you cleaned up the little station you had. “Where d’ya learn to do all this?” he asked and you looked up at him. “What? Clean up a brand?” You laughed out as you zipped up the case. Johnny nodded, “Yeah Dr. Quinn.” He teased. “Well Knoxville I am no medicine woman, but I’m the oldest sister of three rowdy little boys.” You smiled at the man, setting the kit to the side. “You know your stuff don’tcha trouble?” he grinned, pulling the dark frames from off his face and tucking them into the collar of his shirt.
Your face flushed at the nickname, “Trouble? What did I do to earn that title?” you questioned. He tsked and leaned against the door frame, “Look at you, trouble.” he motioned down to your outfit. Today you had decided to go with a cropped fireball tank top, accompanied by a pair of denim shorts and black converse. Chunky silver bangles wrapped around your wrists and a pretty chain dangled on your chest. “What about it?” You asked. Johnny laughed, walking closer to you. Backing you up against the wall, he stood about a foot from you. “See, most of the time it’s one or the other. A skimpy little tank top like this, or a pair of those daisy-duke shorts.” He replied and you almost cowered under his presence. Heat flushed your face as he continued, “But until today I haven’t gotten lucky enough to see both.”. You watched as he closed the distance between the two of you, your hand reaching up to plant on his chest. He looked down at your manicured hand pressed to the fabric of his shirt. “You know how hard it is to watch you prance around set, batting your eyelashes at the whole crew?” He asked and you whispered his name under your breath. Tucking your hair behind your ear he looked down into your eyes. “Doesn’t mean anything. I swear.” You muttered. His hand planted on your hip, “Oh I know it doesn’t sweetheart.”. Tension thick enough to slice through, was interrupted by yell from the crew, “On in five boys.”. You looked up at Johnny, “Saved by the bell.”. You breathed out in frustration as he pulled away. “Oh and uh- look in your trailer.”, He went out the door to resume filming.
—
After the shoot had wrapped up, you realized you never got the chance to check your trailer for the mystery Johnny had referenced earlier. On your way to the trailer he stopped you, “Did you like your present?” Johnny asked, you stood there confused. “Present? You got me a present?” He nodded, “I take it you didn’t see it yet.”. You shook your head, “No we’ve been so busy I didn’t get the chance to.” Your hand wrapped around the door to your trailer as you held it open behind you, “Come in.”. Johnny took the door, and followed you inside. Sure enough to your surprise there was a box with a note tucked under the wrapper. “I uh–didn’t expect to be here when you opened it.” He scratched his neck as you set down your bag to open the package. Smiling up at him, you sat on the couch with the box on your lap. Pulling the paper off as Johnny watched your face light up. Tucked behind the wrapping, was a converse logo. “You said you liked mine, your first day here.” He mumbled. “And you remembered?” Your smile went wide over your face, as you held the red canvas shoe in your hand. “They match mine, and your outfit.” Johnny smirked, pleased with himself. Dropping down to one knee, he motioned for the shoes. You handed him the pair as he slid off your black converse, replacing them with the red. Tying the fresh white strings into a bow, he tapped on the side of the shoe when he was finished. “How did you know what size?” you asked, standing up off the couch. “Made Jeff ask your manager.” He said shyly, and you smiled. “Sounds like you're getting soft on me.” He laughed, “Oh no sweetheart I’m never soft around you.”. Your nose scrunched up in mock disgust. “Thank you Johnny.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, standing up on your tip-toes to reach him. The rubber soles of the converse, contorted against the floor as you pressed your lips to his cheek.
summary: working at a bookstore can get pretty boring—until johnny knoxville walks in and suddenly you can’t stop looking at him. and maybe, just maybe, he can’t stop looking at you either.
warnings: SMUT, age gap (reader is in her 20s and johnny is in his late 40s), virginity loss, p in v, dirty talk, kinda really fluffy, oral f!recieving, fingering, let me know if i missed any
a/n: at this point everything i write is for @sudsnribbons
Working at a bookstore wasn’t usually thrilling.
Until Johnny Knoxville walked in.
You knew he was coming, obviously—the staff had spent a week prepping for the Q&A and signing event tied to the release of his memoir, Broken, Bruised, and Loving It. But no amount of emails or floor plans or advance copies could prepare you for the real thing: 6 feet of chaos, swagger, and bruised-up charisma in a denim jacket and chipped sunglasses.
He entered like he owned the joint, and maybe in a way he did—half the crowd here tonight was buzzing for him. You watched from the staff counter, silently reciting all the ways you were not going to lose your cool. You weren’t going to fangirl. You weren’t going to blush. You definitely weren’t going to tell him that you used to rewind the “rocket sled” scene like it was your favorite film.
Then he looked right at you.
“Hey,” he called out, pointing from across the room like he recognized you from a dream or a mugshot. “You look like you’ve seen someone fly into a tree before.”
You froze, halfway between setting out bookmarks and forgetting how to breathe. “I, uh… maybe once or twice.”
He smirked and kept walking, but your hands shook for five minutes after.
⸻
The Q&A was chaos in a can. Knoxville told stories like a drunk uncle on a roll—animated, inappropriate, wildly entertaining. He balanced on the edge of a display table, flirted with elderly fans, and mimed multiple stunts with what looked like real trauma in his eyes. The crowd was in love.
So were you, kind of.
Not in the poster-on-your-wall way you’d been in high school. This was worse. This was adult-level infatuation—the kind that came with deeper tension, heavier curiosity, and the unbearable awareness of his mouth when he licked his lips after laughing.
And worse? He kept glancing at you.
Not just once. Repeatedly. Like you were the only calm thing in the whole damn room and he couldn’t stop circling back to it.
⸻
After the signing ended and most people had filtered out, Knoxville lingered behind, sipping from a bottle of water and flipping through a poetry book someone had gifted him.
“Hey,” he said again, sidling up to the register where you were half-cleaning, half-hiding. “You a fan or just immune to weirdness by now?”
You looked up, pulse spiking. “I grew up on your stuff. The old DVDs. The MTV reruns. I watched Jackass 3D in the theater like three times.”
He grinned. “So you’re telling me I was part of your sexual awakening?”
You nearly dropped the pen in your hand. “I—no—what? That’s not—”
“I’m just messin’ with you.” He leaned on the counter, smile wicked but eyes sincere. “Mostly.”
You swallowed. “You want me to get someone to box up the extra copies for you?”
“Nah. I came over to talk to you.”
That pulled your gaze up.
“You’ve been watching me all night,” he said easily, no accusation, just fact. “But not like the others. You weren’t waiting for a selfie. You weren’t screaming. You were just… there. Calm. Cool. Smart.”
You gave a small, breathless laugh. “You got all that from how I arranged a stack of books?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had enough concussions to develop weird instincts.”
A beat passed. You watched each other.
Then he asked, gently, “You seeing anyone?”
You blinked. “What?”
“I’m asking if it’d be wildly inappropriate to ask you out while I’m technically on a book tour.”
Your heart thudded. “Not inappropriate. Just… unexpected.”
He leaned in, voice a little lower. “You’ve got this whole… sweet and dangerous vibe. Like you’d blush if I said something filthy but you’d remember it word for word.”
You were absolutely blushing.
He grinned. “See?”
You hesitated, then blurted, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Worked in a bookstore?” he teased.
“No.” Your voice was soft now. “Like… this. The flirting. The being noticed. The maybe saying yes.”
His teasing eased off instantly. “Shit. You serious?”
You nodded.
He straightened, less wolfish now, more curious. “Okay. Alright. So you’ve been flying under the radar and I’m your first close call?”
Something in his voice made the hair on your arms rise. You felt exposed but not unsafe. Nervous, but not panicked.
“I’m not asking for anything,” he added. “Not tonight. Not unless you want it. I just… don’t meet people like you often.”
You exhaled slowly. “Maybe you should ask.”
His eyes lit up.
“Would you,” he said carefully, “like to grab a drink with me? Somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can still say no to anything you want, but maybe… maybe yes, too?”
Your lips parted, a smile creeping in despite the racing in your chest.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I think I would.”
⸻
Johnny picked the dive bar like he’d been born in it.
It was tucked three blocks down from the bookstore, half-lit and humming with the low murmur of locals nursing drinks. No cameras. No screaming fans. Just a jukebox, a dartboard, and a worn booth in the back that looked like it had survived a few bad decisions.
You slid into the seat across from him, pulse still high.
“Alright,” he said, shrugging off his jacket. “Now that we’re off the clock, you can tell me what it’s like working at a bookstore full of dusty hardbacks and horny college kids.”
You laughed. “Mostly quiet. A little chaotic during finals. Occasionally I have to stop someone from reading smut aloud in the corner.”
His eyes lit up. “Wait—people do that?”
“More than you’d think.”
“I knew bookstores were kinky,” he said, grinning wide. “Something about all those dog-eared pages and unspoken tension.”
You sipped your drink, raising a brow. “Is that your professional analysis?”
“Babe, I’ve been launched into the air in a porta-potty. I majored in unspoken tension.”
You smiled, but your fingers were still trembling slightly around your glass. It wasn’t nerves exactly—it was that awful, wonderful feeling of anticipation. Like your body already knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.
Johnny noticed.
“You okay?” he asked, voice low, all the playfulness gone soft around the edges.
You nodded. “Yeah. Just… processing.”
“Tell me what’s in your head. I got time.”
You paused. “I guess I’m trying to figure out why you’re even interested in me. You’re—you know—you. And I’m just… the girl who alphabetizes Bukowski collections and secretly watches your movies on sick days.”
He leaned in, folding his arms on the table, eyes steady on yours.
“I’ve had a lot of girls scream for me,” he said. “A lot of parties. A lot of noise. It’s easy to get lost in that. But you—” he tilted his head—“you looked at me like I was real. Not just a dude in a shopping cart with fireworks taped to his ass.”
You bit your lip, heartbeat thudding.
“And if I’m being honest,” he added, “it’s been a long time since someone made me want to slow down.”
The silence stretched between you, thick with meaning.
You barely noticed the way your hand drifted across the table—until his fingers brushed yours, warm and rough and strangely reassuring.
“I’m not good at this,” you said softly.
“I don’t care if you’re bad at it,” he replied. “I just care that it’s real.”
⸻
By the time you stepped out into the night air again, you weren’t ready to say goodbye. He wasn’t either.
So when he asked if you wanted to walk back with him to his hotel, you said yes.
Not because you were sure. Not because you felt like you should. But because something about him—about tonight—made you feel safe in the mess. Seen.
The walk was quiet. Comfortable. The occasional car passed. The city hummed around you. And Johnny, somehow, didn’t fill the silence with jokes. He just matched your pace and held the door for you like he hadn’t once jumped off a roof for a laugh.
⸻
His hotel room was too nice for someone like him. Sleek. Minimal. Very un-Jackass.
He dropped his keycard on the counter, turned to you, and scratched the back of his neck.
“This part’s always awkward,” he admitted. “The, uh, figuring-out-what-happens-now part.”
You swallowed. “I know I said I haven’t… done anything like this before, but I’m not scared. Just…”
“New,” he finished.
You nodded.
He walked over slowly, giving you every chance to stop him, but you didn’t. You stood your ground as he reached out and gently took your face in both hands.
“I’m not gonna rush this,” he said, eyes flicking between yours. “You say stop, it’s stop. You change your mind, it’s cool. But if you want me to kiss you—”
“I do,” you whispered.
And he did.
It wasn’t the kind of kiss you expected from someone like him—wild, erratic, full of adrenaline. It was slow. Focused. His lips were softer than they had any right to be, his hands steady as they cradled your jaw. He kissed you like you were the only thing holding him to the earth.
You sighed into it, letting your arms slide around his waist.
He deepened it just a little—just enough to make you feel it in your knees—before he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.
“I could get used to that,” he said, voice rough.
You smiled, heart pounding. “So could I.”
His lips were still brushing yours when you whispered, “I want this.”
Johnny paused.
Not because he didn’t believe you. But because you were trembling just enough for him to feel it through your clothes.
He pulled back slowly, resting his hands at your hips, like he was anchoring himself there. “You sure?”
You nodded, heart pounding in your throat. “I’ve thought about it before. Not just… sex. But with someone who makes me feel something.”
He gave you a small, crooked smile. “And I make you feel something?”
You laughed softly. “Johnny, you make me feel everything.”
That grin faltered for a second, replaced with something deeper—something almost reverent.
He kissed you again, slower this time. No urgency. Just the weight of possibility passing between you.
Then he whispered, “Let me take care of you.”
You found yourself being guided gently toward the bed. Johnny’s touch never rushed, never forceful—just steady, warm, patient.
“You good?” he asked, hands pausing at the hem of your shirt.
You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I trust you.”
That did something to him. You could see it in his eyes—how careful he became. Like the weight of that trust mattered more than anything.
He tugged your shirt over your head, pausing only to kiss the bare skin just above your heart. Then he let his hands drift down your arms, eyes tracing every inch like he was memorizing you.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, like it wasn’t even a question.
Your breath hitched. “You’ve probably said that to a lot of girls.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, kissing the top of your shoulder. “But never like this.”
His fingers worked at your jeans, slow and precise, giving you time to breathe, time to change your mind—but you didn’t want to. You wanted to see where this went.
He kissed every inch of exposed skin as he helped you out of them, his palms firm but gentle at your hips, down your thighs.
When you stood in front of him in nothing but your underwear, he stepped back just slightly, looking you over with genuine admiration.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to behave now?”
You bit your lip. “Maybe don’t.”
That made him laugh, low and warm, as he reached for the hem of his own shirt. You watched, spellbound, as he peeled it off—revealing that lean, wiry frame you’d seen a hundred times onscreen, now real and right in front of you.
Faded bruises. Scars. Tattooed chaos.
And still, something soft in the way he looked at you.
“C’mere,” he said, pulling you close again, skin to skin.
The first time his chest pressed against yours, you gasped at the heat of it, the feel of him—all bone and muscle and heartbeat.
He kissed your temple. “Still okay?”
“Yes,” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”
The bed dipped beneath you both as he climbed in, settling beside you instead of over you. His touch stayed exploratory—not demanding.
“You nervous?” he asked quietly, fingers tracing your ribs beneath the curve of your bra.
You nodded. “A little.”
“I’ll talk you through it,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, then your neck. “No pressure. No rush. Just me, and you, and this.”
Your fingers dug lightly into his back as he moved lower, lips trailing warmth down your collarbone.
He whispered everything he was doing—where he was touching, why—like a guided meditation with a dirty mouth. And God, it worked. It grounded you. Made you feel like this wasn’t just happening to you—it was something you were doing together.
When his hands slid beneath your bra and cupped your breasts, he groaned softly into your skin. “You feel even better than I imagined.”
You tilted your head, flushed. “You imagined this?”
“Babe,” he said, grinning into your cleavage, “I’ve been imagining it all day.”
You laughed, breathless, as he undid the clasp and tossed your bra aside.
Then he paused, just for a second—eyes meeting yours—before he leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth.
You cried out softly, hips twitching at the sudden spike of pleasure. He groaned at the sound, sucked a little harder, then switched to the other side, hand trailing down your stomach.
“Still good?” he murmured.
“Yes,” you gasped.
He smiled against your skin. “Then hold on, baby. ‘Cause I haven’t even gotten started yet.”
“Relax,” Johnny whispered as his hand slid down between your legs. “Let me feel you.”
You were already soaked, the cotton of your underwear clinging to you in a way that made him groan against your neck.
“Goddamn,” he muttered, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. “You’re so wet. You been holding onto this for a while, haven’t you?”
You couldn’t speak—could barely think. You just nodded, hips rocking into his palm.
He touched you through the fabric first, slow. The pad of his finger traced the shape of you, finding your clit with practiced ease. He didn’t rush—just circled, barely-there pressure, teasing you until your thighs started to shake.
“You’re doing so good,” he said softly. “Let me take these off, baby.”
You lifted your hips and let him slide your underwear down your legs. When you were finally bare beneath him, he took a second—just looked—and exhaled like the sight physically did something to him.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured, fingers dragging gently through your folds. “All of you.”
Then his mouth replaced his hand.
You gasped—loud—as he licked a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, then did it again, like he needed the taste.
“Oh my God—” you panted, hips lifting.
He grinned against you. “You taste even better than I imagined. Think I could stay here all night.”
And he almost did.
His tongue moved in slow, teasing patterns, sucking and flicking until your moans filled the room. He didn’t rush your build-up—just watched you unravel, voice full of praise every time you whimpered his name.
When you started to tighten, he slowed down.
“Not yet,” he said, voice gravel over honey. “I wanna be inside you when you come.”
You blinked up at him, dazed and trembling. “Are you sure? I—what if I’m not good?”
He smiled, the kind of soft, warm grin that made your chest ache. “There’s no such thing as bad when it’s real.”
Then he kissed you—deeply, like you hadn’t just had his mouth on you seconds ago—and when he pulled back, you felt stripped down to your soul.
“Okay,” you whispered. “I want you.”
He reached into the nightstand, rolled on a condom, then came back to you—slower this time, gentler. He hovered above you, arms caging your head, eyes locked on yours.
“I’m gonna go slow,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Tell me if it hurts. I’ll stop.”
You nodded.
Then he pushed in.
Your breath caught—stretch, pressure, a little ache—and your hands fisted in the sheets.
Johnny didn’t move.
He just kissed your jaw, whispered praise, waited until your muscles stopped clenching around him. He was warm, solid, grounding.
“You okay?” he asked again.
You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Just… full.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah, baby. You’re perfect like this.”
When he started to move, it was so slow—shallow thrusts, hips rocking just enough to make you feel everything. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together, grounding you.
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured. “you’re taking me so well.”
You moaned at the words, and he grinned. “Oh, you like that, huh?”
“Yeah,” you gasped.
“Good. ‘Cause I’ve got a lot more where that came from.”
He began thrusting a little deeper, the stretch easing now, your body melting beneath him. The ache had turned into something else entirely—hot and thick and needy.
“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and strained. “Can’t believe this is your first time. You feel like a fucking dream.”
You whimpered, pulling him closer. “Johnny—please—”
“I got you,” he promised. “Let go for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock.”
It hit like a wave—your orgasm crashing through you, sharp and sweet, clenching around him until he groaned deep in his chest and buried himself to the hilt.
“Fuck,” he gasped. “You feel so good—I can’t—”
He followed with a loud, broken moan, hips jerking once, twice, then stilling.
He stayed inside you for a while, kissing your cheek, your temple, brushing your hair back from your sweaty face.
“You okay?” he asked again.
“Yeah,” you whispered, still dazed. “I feel amazing.”
He pulled out carefully, kissed your knee, then got up to grab a towel and clean you gently.
You watched him move—naked, sweet, ridiculously tender—and felt something deeper than lust settle in your chest.
When he came back, he crawled under the sheets and pulled you into his arms without a word.
You curled into his chest, fingers tracing the ink on his ribs.
“Thank you,” you said quietly.
He looked down at you, brow furrowed like you’d said something wild. “For what?”
“For being so…” You trailed off, searching for the right word. “Kind.”
His grin was soft this time. “Hey. You made it easy.”
You fell asleep on his chest, his arm around you, his fingers idly stroking your spine. For a man who once got punched by a bull on camera, he held you like you were made of glass.
And maybe, just maybe, you’d let him do it again tomorrow.
ahh i love that u write for blink! could u write either tom or mark hc’s where reader tours alongside one of them pls! thank uu
Touring alongside Tom & Mark includes…
Summary: hc’s for blink-182’s Tom Delonge & Mark Hoppus
Warnings: None? Somewhat fluff because I just assumed most of it other than reader touring alongside them
A/n: Genuinely was so excited to write for them! There’s almost nothing of them on here so it’s nice to contribute to that!! I did both of them because it makes sense yk! Thank you anon hope you enjoy it! (Can be read as gn! or fem! reader)🩷
Word count: 1.6k
Touring alongside Tom includes…
🛸Tons of messing around backstage and onstage
🛸Flirting back and forth to see who takes it too far
🛸Getting bored and teaching him how to paint his own nails because he wouldn’t leave you alone
🛸(he used up all your polish)
🛸Being there for him during all the chaos of blink blowing up
🛸Staying up late at night talking and debriefing
🛸Constant physical touch when he’s not performing or at sound check
🛸Going around the city to try new foods
🛸(and having to stop Tom from doing dumb shit)
🛸He has no shame in holding you while having a full blown convo w/ someone
Touring alongside Mark includes…
🚦Matching vans or shirts
🚦Staying up w/ him if he gets an idea for a song
🚦You constantly take his sweaters while he performs because duh! He doesn't need it
🚦Like Tom, you stay up with him to talk through the emotions he’s feeling because you know how stressful it gets for him
🚦Opting to stay in some nights instead of going out because you both need quiet
🚦Always touring or enjoying the city you’re currently visiting because you told him you wanted to take advantage of the downtime you guys had
🚦Always near each other if you cannot be physically connected
🚦Hiding notes for each other to find when he gets busy
Hii guys!! Sorry I didn’t post last weekend! What’s funny was that I was scared of writing fan fics because of authors curse and I thought yolo on the whole thing and went for it. Well! A lot has been going on recently so I apologize for not posting on the weekend but I’ll try this weekend in honor of 420 so!
lmk if anyone has any requests because they are open!😄
Summary: y/n and pontius are at the bonfire after filming when it suddenly gets colder outside and love is in the air
Warnings: none, just going off track towards the end
A/n: So sorry for not posting literally anything! Life has been kicking my ass but I’ll try to post on the weekends! I think this is kinda a part 2 of the skater fic w Pontius (if you squint) but this can be read separately!😓
Word count: 3k
After a long day of filming, the guys decided to celebrate the good shots they got for the show with a bonfire. You were headed to the house where they had set it up, with your boyfriend, Chris, driving. Fighting to keep your eyes open with the way his thumb was slowly tracing circles on your leg, you guys slowly pulled up to the house. Chris walked to your side, opened the door for you, and helped you get out. As you guys approached the front door of the house, hearing the roar of the guys inside already, he turned to you, “I promise I won’t go too hard on the drinks tonight’ he said with his boyish grin across his face. You laughed, “Yeah I don’t feel like dragging party boy away from this tonight” you said with a soft smile across your face.
He leaned in to kiss you, savoring the last moment of privacy together before opening the front door to the house, being greeted by the men who are already a couple drinks in. In a whiplash, voices of “hello’s” and “hey man!’s” sounded through the door as you guys pushed your way in. You headed towards the kitchen to start pouring yourself a drink for the night ahead. Chris came up from behind you, asking, “Babe did you even bring your jacket?” Voice laced with concern. You turned and flashed him an innocent smile, “Yeah! It’s somewhere in your car, but I’ll be fine!” You said trying to sound as convincing as possible.
The thing is, as much as you love your boyfriend for his flirty personality and not being scared to do crazy things, you loved the body heat he provided. Chris somehow was always radiating warmth no matter when or where you guys were. It could be snowing outside but he’d be sweating in his snow outfit while filming. He always was bothered by it until you brought it up one time in conversation claiming how you felt safe with him close. As much as he is naked on tv for the show, you’ll never not appreciate how much he provides; even if the good view is a part of it.
After mixing your drinks, you guys headed outside to see the guys standing around and talking. Swiftly falling into a conversation with Steve-o about how they were excited to go film for wildboyz in a couple of months. They explained the places they were going to go to and how they were excited for new and old locations. As they spoke on ideas for each country and city, the alcohol flowing through your body couldn’t keep you as warm as you wanted.
As Chris was talking, he noticed how your body started to shiver and saw goosebumps form on your arms. He slowly moved from standing next to you, to behind you, wrapping his arms around you while still listening to Steve-o. He leaned down to your ear and whispered, “Don’t worry I gotcha covered” while he leaned in to kiss your head. You just decided to embrace it, knowing that Steve-o wasn’t really bothered by you two.
No matter where you guys were, Chris always looked out for you. Yeah the guys wanted him to embrace the party boy persona, but he also knew you were first priority on nights out. Chris knew when he can get rowdy while you were perfectly safe with your drink, then he also knew when he had to make sure a guy wouldn’t bother you at all. Bonfires with the Jackass crew were always wild and involved something or someone doing something crazy, with plus ones being invited or significant others as well. Either way, there was something always crazy going on that was filled with passion. With that passion, that’s exactly how Chris felt whenever he got to bring you around and show you off.
Summary: The guys are at the lake attempting the loop, Y/n wants a piece of the action while her lifeguard watches her in awe
Warnings: none? I think, bam bitching and complaining, somewhat fluff, fem reader
A/n: first time writing for Pontius so I apologize in advance! Begging for requests bcs writers block is a bitch! Loved writing for party boy so hopefully more soon! Also first time having to write out skateboarding terms so I apologize for that too!!
Word count: 4k
“Hi I’m Johnny Knoxville!” “And I am Y/n L/n and this is the loop!” We excitedly pointing at the ramp turned loop behind us to the camera.
It was a hot day at the lake while the crew set up for today's stunt. I was glad to be a part of it and not as the lifeguard this time alongside my boyfriend, Chris. Chris and I started dating when I moved out to LA after getting picked up by a sponsor for my skating. That’s when Jackass kicked off and I got a call after they saw my talent on the board. I was stoked to be alongside other skaters and not be treated as something delicate since I was the only girl around. I had to fight for my way to be here and now it’s just going with the flow from here on out.
I loved Pontius because he is always open and willing to do anything exciting. He left a good impression on me when he asked to try to skate on my board in the lifeguard bunny outfit but failed miserably. Ever since that interaction we became close then he later asked me out. It’s been history from there and I wouldn’t change it for anything.
I was watching the guys head up to the top of the ramp to film their turns then it would eventually be mine, standing next to Chris he turns to me and goes, “Are you sure you don’t want to lifeguard with me? You’re missing out!” He said while smirking at me. “Noo… You know how bad I’ve been wanting to do this stunt” I said turning to face him, fake pouting. I didn’t want to wear my bikini and skate at the same time, which sounded like a nightmare within itself. The sun has been beating down on us all day, making it harder to focus on the stunt.
After Bam tapped out after a few attempts and tons of bitching and moaning, it was my turn. I headed up the ramp and got myself ready. They wanted me to skate down with no helmet but someone around here needs common sense so I put mine on. All the guys were cheering for me as I got ready. I tied my hair up back into a ponytail, turned to the camera and said “Im going to fucking die” and dropped in without second guessing. With what felt like a blink of an eye I landed on the cushion they threw so I wouldn’t land on my back as badly. I took a minute to lay there because the wind literally got taken out of me.
Hand on my face covering my eyes, I hear a voice above me go, “Don’t worry guys! Lifeguard bunny is here to perform cpr!” And before my boyfriend could even attempt, I immediately covered my mouth and started laughing. Chris stuck his hand out and helped me stand up. He made sure that nothing on me was harmed or needed “saving”. Without thinking, I picked up my board and headed back up to the ramp to try again. The guys were still cheering me on but it was getting more and more frustrating when I couldn’t land it.
Chris was still excited for me waiting in the water when Knoxville came up to me at the top of the ramp and said it was the last take for the day and it's okay if I don’t land it. That was what fueled the fire inside me when I turned back to the ramp and told myself that it's just going in a straight line. I took a breath and dropped in, before I knew it, I had successfully done the 360 around the loop and rolled right into the water. Pontius lifted me up onto his shoulders, his hands having a tight grip on my thighs and headed back to where the guys were, cheering for me that I landed the stunt.
”Wooo! Y/n! You finally got it” and other mixes of “Finally! Let’s go home now!” The guys filled my ears as I dried off and gathered my stuff together. Chris headed over to me and put my arm around me, leading me to his car. One thing I’ve learned since being with him was after every stunt I did, big or small, he always had to have some sort of physical contact with me after. It was as simple as holding hands, his hand on my belt loop, or constantly having an arm around me. I think it’s because he wants to make sure I'm actually here and not something he’s picturing but I'll let him do whatever confirms that I’m okay.
”Do ya need any clothes? You can borrow mine if you want, I’m fine without any” he said as he turned to me, face filled with concern. “No it's fine, I'll dry off anyway if we drive with the windows down” I said, turning to him and smiling. He had the trunk open loading in our stuff, closing the door, and going to the front passenger door to open my door to get in. He walked to the drivers side, got in, and started up the car. I rolled down my window as he started to head out of the lake area. Stopping and turning around, he checked to make sure we had everything. I looked at him in confusion before he leaned in and kissed me, pulling back after a few seconds he said, “Perfect, now I have everything I need to go home” flashing that silly smile towards me that gives me butterflies. He turned up the music, put his hand on my thigh, and drove us back to where we were staying.
Okay, so I'll say everything I think about jackass community once again since I read all posts about it which were here recently.
Since most of the active blogs right now are made by new fans, there is not much we can do but keep trying to find rare stuff(yeah, old as fuck random websites, which gave some retrospective to me personally) and deep-diving into millions of interviews and videos. We find something special here, and creating more good meroies. Someone will stay, someone will lost their interest, but one thing is clear. Those all intereactions with each other, likes or reblogs by new people or your mutuals - this is our memory and energy which keep our community going
I had never ever been one of the active part of my fandoms, and honestly, its the first fandom in my life, which has such influence at my life in a positive way. For this few months I'm here with you, I finally started what I always loved, realized many things from my past and how I can make it all better for the future.
I see every notification and post so yeah, assume you that its more than just hyperfixation, when I uncontrollably liking edits on tiktok and thats all. @you-fuckers-are-asses became an example of how you can be dedicated to your blog and that you welcome here. So I'll continue posting, I have some things on my mind, because I wont stop on posting jackass photos and gonna try new things to keep keep this community going
summary: johnny takes y/n to the bar with the guys after a long day of shooting; everyone is exhausted, and johnny just wanted a beer
warnings: bar fight, descriptions of injury, descriptions of blood, alcohol
a/n: first time writing a fight! so I apologize in advance! let me know if a part 2 is wanted!
word count: 4k
Johnny and y/n walked into the stuffy bar wanting to let go from the day. They mainly filmed skating stunts but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t involved one way or another. Y/n earlier decided to help with the stunts on the ramp despite her boyfriend’s protests. She was perfectly fine, Johnny just didn’t want someone to fuck up her stunts. That caused a slight dispute which was later fixed when she watched him eat shit not even 10 minutes later.
“Can you get me a beer please, babydoll? I’m going to the booth to say hi to the guys” asked Johnny. Y/n looked up at him and laughed, “Not even 5 minutes in and you already need a beer” she said walking away to the bar. Once she got there, she took a look at the scene for the night. Nothing special, just the group of the jackass guys and some other people. It seemed pretty tame for the night. After she was handed the Budweiser and the martini she knew she deserved after the day they had.
As she approached the booth she got an uproar of how good her stunts looked from earlier. Johnny leaned in next to her ear, “They’re pretty impressed from today, and of course thank you for the beer” he said as he kissed her on the cheek. Blush spread across her face, not from the kiss, but from how the guys were impressed with her. Y/n picked up skating while she grew up, mostly surrounded by her older brother and his friends. She never thought it as anything special that should be bowed down on. Though, in front of drunk men who did exactly that for a living, she’ll take it as a win for the day.
As the night progressed, the drinks flowed right along with it. Y/n was now currently sat next to Steve-o, telling him how she picked up skating in the first place. “Either way, it’s really impressive man! Most of us are just using our bodies to entertain but you guys knowing how to skate saves us a ton” he said enthusiastically. “I guess” she shrugged, “I never thought a girl skating would get these guys to worship me you know!?” She exclaimed. As Steve-o was about to say his piece in, Johnny slid into the booth next to her.
Placing his hand on her thigh he turned to her, “Hi babydoll I missed you” with the smug smile on his face. “Babe you were playing pool not even 10 feet away” she laughed as she sipped her drink. “Are you drunk?” She asked him with concern. “No but I do got a good buzz going” he exclaimed with a smug look on his face. “Can you get me ‘nother beer please?” He asked with pleading eyes. “Sure! Is it okay if I get another martini?” She questioned. It wasn’t for permission, it was if she was going to drive home or call a taxi after the bar.
“Yeah yeah sure, whatever you want babydoll” Johnny encouraged. “ ‘Kay, I’ll be back!” She turned to Steve-o, “Make sure he doesn’t disappear this time please!” She pleaded to him. Steve-o gave an assuring smile before she turned to the bar. It was now more crowded than it was an hour or two ago. Having no concept of time in the bar with the guys was a dangerous game because it was either home early or them getting kicked out.
“Hi! Another Budweiser and a dry martini please!?” She asked the bartender. He turned away and what felt like a blink of an eye, he was sliding the drinks to her. Ash she reached into her purse a voice spoke up, “I got it.” Said the mystery man. “Oh! No it’s no big deal I can pay for myself!” Y/n insisted. “No it’s okay, your company is all I need” he said as he smiled at her, “Names Tyson, what’s yours sweet thing?” He asked as he winked at her. “None of your business! Sweet thing.” She said in a mocking tone, grabbing the drinks and turned away.
Johnny watched the whole interaction with Steve-o by his side. He knew that she could hold her own, that she wouldn’t need someone to help her. That’s what Johnny loved about her, she wasn’t afraid to hold her ground when she needed to. Though, he knew he needed to step in once the guy grabbed her arm, making her spill her drink on her top. That’s when Knoxville knew that he would have to intervene.
She looked down at her arm in disgust, not even phased by the drink spilling, “You have no right to grab my arm!” She pulled her arm back, set the glass and beer down. As she was preparing to show this guy what’s really wrong with him, Johnny pulled her behind him. “Excuse me, you have no right grabbing a woman like that” he said in a stern tone. “Oh yeah? What’ll happen if I did?” The guy said, squaring his shoulders and tightening his fists. Before Johnny could rebuttal, all you heard was a fist meeting someone’s jaw. Johnny stumbled back, not expecting to actually get punched. Before y/n could even see the rest of the fight she was getting pulled away by Steve-o and Chris.
They sat with her outside of the bar, trying to crack jokes to make her feel better. Not even minutes later, Johnny was being walked out by Bam and Ryan. Johnny went straight for her and sat on the curb, telling the guys they needed a minute. Y/n scanned his face, making sure everything looked right even though he was pretty sure his jaw was broken. “Babe you didn’t have to fight the guy! I could’ve handled it!” Distress took over in her voice, frantically searching his face while he took her hand in his. “Babydoll that guy was bigger than me, your shit would’ve got rocked.” He sighed, huffing out a laugh.
Knoxville now got a good look at her, seeing her cami top was drenched. He immediately handed her his jacket without saying anything. Y/n accepted it, standing up with him, kissing him, and saying “Lets get you home and clean you up.” She sighed, knowing that they should’ve left hours ago. He knew she was frustrated but he knew her good enough that by the time they get home, all would be well.
“behind your dark glasses you’re, you’re something else”
Underneath It All- No Doubt
summary: y/n and johnny are at a house party somewhere in LA; when leaving she asks a certain question about his signature look
warnings: reader is drunk, fluff, fem reader
a/n: my first time writing!! so i’m really sorry if it’s bad
word count: 2k
The liquor was flowing as the room got more stuffy. Johnny had his had protectively around my waist. The room was packed as we stood in the dining room, as he talked to someone my mind was swimming with the liquor from my cup. I looked down at my cup as I swirled the liquid around watching it go. He squeezed my hip and I slowly lifted my eyes up toward his. I squinted trying to see through his sunglasses as he smirked at me,
“You ready to go babydoll?” I nodded towards him, not trusting my mouth after a couple of beers. He grabbed the loop in my jeans and carefully guided us out of the house we were at. The parties in LA weren’t like any that I’ve ever experienced, the alcohol was never ending with the same amount of shady people. Once we stepped out onto the front porch, the fresh air sobered me up just a bit. Johnny’s southern drawl took me out of my trance,
“You cold?” my body shivered at the realization. I took a pause in my steps, “Yeah but I don’t really need a jacket.” Someone needed to tell him there was no point in wearing sunglasses at night because I only saw his eyebrows raise up. He immediately started to take his jacket off and put it onto me without even wanting to hear my protests, “What about you? Won’t you be cold?” My words came out mumbled when I looked up at him. “No ‘ts fine, don’t worry” he took a pause, then took off his sunglasses, “Let’s get you home babydoll” he said grinning at me through my drunken state.
Once again we headed towards the car, he reached for the passenger door and opened it for me. As he guided me inside, he narrowly missed protecting me from hitting my head on the frame. He rounded the other side and got into the driver seat, making sure that I buckled myself in. Starting the car, he put the heater on and turned the radio down so it was background noise.
In my drunken state I turned to him, “Why do you always have your sunglasses on?” I mean truly I didn’t know why. We’ve dated for about 3 years now and no matter the social situation he’s always had them on. I mean he can be protecting himself but also with what his career is, it’s ironic if he claims that. I’ll still love him either way glasses or not, there’s just something so alluring about it.
Johnny put his hand on my thigh, “I don’t really know.” he took a breath, “I mean there’s always the paparazzi and when we do stunts in public you really don’t want to get recognized.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Maybe when you’re sobered up in the morning I can remind you of this conversation.” he let out a breathy laugh.
We pulled up to our shared place, he helped me out of the car and into the house. Without missing a beat, I stumbled into the living room to take my shoes off. Johnny was trying to encourage me to go upstairs but the couch was too comfortable to move from. As I curled up into a ball, he remarked, “Babydoll if I come back and you’re asleep, you’re sleeping there tonight” Fighting sleep was hard when the couch was cold and comfortable with a blanket on top of me.
Johnny came back and saw that she was knocked out. He left the water and aspirin on the coffee table. He came back after changing from his clothes from the party, and cuddled up with y/n and fell asleep holding her.
