#jackassxreader

The Jackass crew and I are currently in a golf course, getting ready to smash the shit out of some golf carts and mini golf attractions. Dico and Bam are gonna ride in one cart and Knoxville and Dunn are gonna be in the other. Knowing Ryan, he's gonna crash the fucking cart, as he always does, and get someone injured. But, of course, he thinks he's hilarious when it does happen. That man has no concern for anyone but himself, and it obviously shows in everything he does.

I'm forced out of my thoughts by a familiar voice behind me, the most annoying person that could talk to me right now. "How about a kiss for good luck, sweetheart?"

I whip around to find Ryan in all his grimy glory with a shit-eating grin on his face. I scoff aggressively and back up a few steps from him. "Eat dirt, asshole." I cross my arms.

He looks away incredulously and then right back at me, taking a few steps towards me. "You know what, why do you have to such a bitch all the time? I've never done anything to you, why do you have to hate me so much?"

My eyes widened, and I can feel my cheeks start to redden as his frustrating words begin to sink in. "Oh, really?" I interrogate him, my voice dripping in venom. "I'm a bitch to you? Says the person who hazed me the entire first week I hung out with you guys, including spray-painting a dick on my car!! Just leave me the fuck alone, please?"

As I turn away to return to the rest of the group, Ryan darts in front of me and says, "Okay, okay, okay. If it makes you feel better, you can slap me. Lightly."

After filming for the day, Knoxville suggests we all go out to dinner and invited me along. He suggests that we should all go home and change out of our disgusting clothes and then go out for dinner, which is exactly what we end of doing.

"No! Why the hell would I do that?" I roughly push past him and down to the group of friends we share.

I hitch a ride from Ehren after I've already changed into clean clothes, and we're already halfway to the restaurant before he speaks up. "What's your problem with Ryan?"

Caught off guard with his strange question, I furrow my brows in contemplation. To be honest, I didn't really know anymore. It's just always felt right to hate him, but I realize that doesn't make any sense. So, I answer Ehren's question truthfully in return. "I don't really know. There's just something about him that gets under my skin."

"Do you mean... like in a good way?" He questions, meeting my gaze to raise his eyebrows.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" I look at him back in disgust.

He sighs in defeat and says, "Nevermind. I guess you two are a lost cause after all... Now I owe Dave 20 bucks."

Ehren and I are the last to arrive at the restaurant and we meet up with everybody right outside the front doors. My eyes immediately drift over to Ryan. But, with surprise, he actually looks pretty nice. For once, his clothes are actually clean, and his rusty orange shirt compliments his rosy cheeks delightfully.

I feel someone tap my left shoulder and find Bam playfully staring at me with one eyebrow raised. I sigh and confusedly ask, "What is it?"

He flicks his eyes from Ryan to me and back to him again. "Find something interesting to look at?"

At around 8:30, we had all finished eating and visiting with each other and unanimously decide to start to head home. I noticed that Ryan would barely look at me throughout the meal, which was weird considering that he usually picks fights with me at any given moment.

I chuckle and push his shoulder, jokingly telling the brunette to shut up. What no one noticed at this point, and what Ryan would refuse to admit later, was that seeing me joke around with Bam sent a pang of sadness and envy through his body.

I begin to walk to Ehren's car to get a ride home, but I'm stopped cold in my tracks by a hand gently grasping my wrist. I turn around to find curly-haired Ryan staring straight back at me with a look of apprehension in his eyes. "What do you want?" I ask, not ripping my hand out of his grip yet.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. When he does, his voice cracks. "Can I just talk to you for a second, alone?"

As I'm standing in front of him, pondering my next words carefully, I suddenly notice who Ryan really is for the first time ever. He's not cruel, he's compassionate. He's not careless, he's thoughtful. "Um, sure," I reply, stepping away from the street and slowly striding to a bench not far from the restaurant we just left.

Although he's walking behind me, he sits down before me, ushering me to sit down next to him. On any other night before this, I never would have chosen to spend any more time with him than I had to. But, for some reason, I'm not even second-guessing my choice to sit as close to him as possible.

I swallow deeply, preparing myself for anything that he could say.

He slowly turns his torso to me and rests his hands on his lap. The blonde-haired man takes a deep breath before speaking. His voice is so quiet, it's just above a whisper. "You deserve to know something."

My breath leaves my body, and I find it hard to even look at this man who has just poured his heart out to me. And it isn't because I don't feel the same way. It's the complete opposite and I have just realized it. "Listen, Ryan," I begin, but he abruptly stands up from the bench.

"You need to know that I have grown to care for you. Deeply. And I know that this may take you off guard or cause you to hate me even more than you already do, but I wanted to get this off my chest because my feelings for you have plagued my thoughts for months."

"Actually, you know what, I realized that this is a bad idea, so I'm just gonna go and probably never talk to you again out of embarrassment," Ryan admits. Before he can even take a step away from me, I grab his hand that has been glued to his side for this entire time and I squeeze his palm in mine while interlocking our fingers. I look up to his eyes, and they seem to be glued to the sight of our intertwined hands.

"Doesn't seem so bad, does it?" I chuckle, swinging our arms together a little bit. "I want you to know... um..." My mouth suddenly feels dry as my tongue fails to create the words. "I'm so sorry for the way I treated you. You never deserved that. And I now realize that I have been the luckiest person to have you there for me. I think, if we both put in effort, we can make us work. What do you think, Dunn?"

“You know one of us better get a new job?” He stood, leg cocked in the door of the first aid tent. His yellow, blood stained shirt sitting awkwardly half-covering his toned torso.

“Knox. Why did I not bet money on the fact that you’d be the first person I’d see today.” You said, adjusting the seat by your examination table. He smiled, laughing at his converse. A small flutter in your stomach when his dimples were highlighted on his cheeks. “Take a seat hon.” You finished.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He said, folding his long and lean body down into the rather, comically and unpractically small chair.

You stifled a chuckle, before scalding him “Hey. What did I tell you about the ma’am stuff, huh? Makes me feel old.” You said,

“Sorry, sorry.” He retorted with a smirk, hands up in mock-surrender. He adjusted uncomfortably in the chair. The shirt that sat awkwardly, scrunched up at his ribs was covered in blood, some already beginning to oxidise.

There was damage to the entire surface of his back and the posterior surface of his elbows. His loose-fitting, lopsided dickies reveal a gash, slick with plasma on his left hip, that extended up his entire left side to his axilla.

Your mind drifted in thought of his lean and toned figure, the way he groaned while placing his hands over his hand. He pulled his eyes shut in pain, wincing around the chair until he found a semi-comfortable position. Which was difficult considering the damage he’d done.

He felt you eying him, and he felt watched under your gaze. Not in a judgemental sense, more pitied he would say. He watched you too, mostly in awe. You were scribbling away in your binder, pausing the check the time on your watch and continued scrawling your notes. He found you as a whole quite adorable. The only way his dumbass could think to flirt with you, outside you sewing him back together was using your head as an armrest or something else so pathetically school-yard and juvenile.

You guys were at that stage between acquaintances and friends. That semi-awkward phase in which the first few minutes of conversation is a little doughy before your both settle into each other’s company again.

But Knoxville always made conversation easy, his light-hearted, usually self-deprecating humour was one of the things you found more than charming about him. That and his southern drawl and the way he was so polite and charming even when he was bleeding all over you and your tent.

He would have to admit, some days when he was sent to the nurses tent and you weren’t there his stomach would drop with disappointment. He’d have to endure the man-handling of a questionable nurse who would frequently be low of painkillers he was meant to distribute to the cast.

You paused in thought before turning your eyes to meet his. He nearly jumped in his chair, having just been caught dreamily staring at you.

“What’s your birthday again Knox. March.. 11? 1970..?” Had he really been in your tent that much?

“One, doll.” He nodded. His stomach twisted in knots watching the very corner of of your mouth lift upward into a nervous smile, you shifted your stance and continued writing.

You forced your mindset back to the task-at-hand. “Okay. So, let me guess? You rode something strange and awful down the steepest and longest hill in LA?” You said, turning to collect your wound irrigation and dressing supplies.

“I rode roller skates made from belt sanders down a sidewalk and into a dumpster. But I ended up skating down it on my ass and falling into the dumpster like a sack of shit.” He said, his tone self-deprecating.

“Well, I can see that by the way your squirmin’ in my chair.” His chuckle was faint, because he really didn’t like the way he was looking at your ass in those scrubs, it made him feel dirty. But he really wanted to walk up behind you, whisper in your ear while pressing himself up against your perfect ass. He watched you on your tip toes, hand on the bench trying to reach your supplies from the top cupboard. He had to shake his head to clear those thoughts from his mind, he adjusted himself in his pants.

You continued, still trying to get that damn bottle of iodine that your finger tips were pushing back into the cubboard. Looking around briefly for your stool that people kept stealing, with no luck. You climbed onto the bench on your knees. Looking up you seen Johnny next to you, stifling a startled squeal, you placed a hand over your chest.

“God, you’re quiet on your feet.” You sighed.

Your eyes just now level with his, he pointed to the amber glass jar in the cupboard. “This what you were after?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, with a smile. He reached into the cupboard and placed it on the bench you were still kneeling on. He closed the cupboard and went offer you a hand down, realising after he had done so, that it was covered in slimy looking abrasions. He withdrew his hand with a chuckle.

Now able to finalise your sterile tray of gauzes, saline solution, antibiotic ointment and iodine. He flipped the chair around at sat on it backwards, allowing open access to his back.

“Okay, I’m gonna help you take your shirt off so I can get a better look at the damage you’ve done to yourself and get started alright?” You asked setting the tray down in the table. You moved to stand behind him and help him remove his shirt, limiting its contact with his broken and tender skin. He hissed in pain as the hem of the shirt nicked a protruding piece of broken glass. “Sorry.” You said, placing the shirt down.

“Damn.” He breathed, “That sucked.” He finished with a laugh.

“I hate to break it to you, hon. But it ain’t about to get any better. There’s still lots of debris in these abrasions, but good news. No stitches, this time.” You said, as you moved to the basin to wash your hands again, you gloved up to begin irrigation.

You tucked a towel into the waistband of Johnny’s dickies and he squirmed and laughed. “Hey hey. By me dinner first, before you go snooping around back there.” You chuckled to yourself, rolling your eyes.

“Sorry.” You offered, pulling up your own chair behind him, you snapped the seal of the saline bottles and picked up your tweezers with your still sterile hand. You paused, hovering over his bloodied back. “Ready Knox?” You said, your tone soft.

“Mhm.” He mumbled, resting his head on is balled up fists. His feet shifted uncomfortably underneath him in anticipation.

You squeezed the tubes and the clear liquid ran down his back, he hissed and leant forward. Moaning a distressed “Fuck.” Into his fists. The towel in his waistband caught the yellow liquid at the bottom. He writhed tensely in the chair, highlighting every muscle on his exposed body.

You scooted your chair toward him, so close you could feel the heat from his back. You leant in with the tweezers and began to remove the gravel and glass from his back, dropping them into the silver tray next to you. You left the most lodged fragment of glass till last. You had to scoot right around, ditching your rolling chair you knelt down beside him. He rested his head in the crook of his elbow and his face now inches from yours.

“Okay. This one is the last one. But it’s right in there.” Your sweet eyes looked up into his, a crease of worry between your brows. You sighed looking at the brown glass in his skin once more.

He watched you bite your bottom lip, bringing your tweezers closer, he pulled his eyes shut and buried his head in his elbow. Gritting his teeth he felt the relief of the glass being removed and heard the ‘tink’ of you dropping in the tray. He breathed a sigh of relief and wiggled out his tense muscles.

“Okay.” You sighed, placing your un-gloved hand on your hip. “We’re, gettin’ there. Won’t be long until we have you cleaned up and on your way.” You said with a nod, moving to change your gloves.

“Gettin’ rid of me so soon?”

“Never.” You offered back.

“No I get it, ol’ Knoxville is too much for Y/N to handle.” He craned back, with that shit-eating smirk plastered on his face.

“Please.” You scoffed, “I’m not the one scared of a little pair of tweezers.” You felt a weird buzz from the low pit of your stomach, you weren’t much of a flirt considering in your usual line of work it was never okay to flirt with patients. But on the set of jackass, anything goes.

“Turns out you’re into masochism as much as I thought?” You said with everything last ounce of confidence you had managed to boil within you.

“You’d be surprised what I’m into, babydoll.” His tone was low and steady. Very different from his usual. He kept his gaze forward and jaw set.

You inhaled sharply, though it was not on purpose merely out of nerves and shock. But he had heard you, which is why you could see the smile lines of the satisfied smirk creep up his cheek.

“So what have y’all got in store for me next week? Can I assume we’re all done with the ridiculous raccoon skit.” Now wishing you had kept your mouth shut, you felt slightly in over your head. The air in the room felt sticky on your skin.

“I mean I’ve seen nearly everyone of the cast come in here with broken noses, fractured zygomatic arches. Have you at least been able to scrape together some decent takes?” You continued, now dabbing iodine over his back.

“I’m up next, on Friday.” He said it almost proudly.

“Well. There goes my early mark for the weekend.” You joked, capping the bottle.

“Oh, sorry Doll. Will I be keeping you from your knitting?” He said, as you slinked down in front of him to tend to his hip.

Using slightly more pressure than required you wiped the abrasion. You took the antibiotic ointment from the back of your gloved hand and with your thumb wiped it over his hip, this time with entirely too much pressure.

“Found someone to throw the punch?” You said, rising to your full height in front of him. Craning your neck slightly to make eye contact with Johnny. You removed your gloves and tossed them on the tray behind you.

“Hope Daddy taught you good.” He looked down from your eyes to your lips, the thoughts of all the things the two of you would do to each other floated in the forefront of his mind.

“I didn’t need Daddy to teach me to throw a punch.” Your eyes fell to his lips. The distance between you closing.

“Oh really?” Johnny said, softly.

Johnny:

•doll, sweetheart, babydoll.

•his hand on your waist unconsciously while he talks to the crew.

•words of affirmation

•you having to patch him up when he arrives home broken and bruised.

•he admires the way you speak, your position at MTV was managerial, required regular meetings and was quite high-stakes. he admired your intelligence and elegance with the way you managed people.

•his favourite way to hold you: bridal style

•“atta good girl”

•“i will. i love you too babydoll.”

•“such a good girl for daddy.”

Steve-O:

•princess, babe, beautiful,

•hand holding, drink/(dr4g) sharing, cigarette kisses (him lighting yours with his.)

•him being extremely protective

•physical touch

•one of his lesser known hobbies is photography, he loves taking photos of you… in all sorts of contexts

•he admires the way you cook, he could count on his fingers and toes the proper hot dinners he had before meeting you. he sits in the kitchen and watches you move elegantly and swiftly behind the stove and counters. not to mention how god damn good it tastes. and you’re a good cook.

•him trying to cook you dinner and completely fucking it up, so you guys order pizza and watch a movie instead

•his favourite way to hold you: you on his shoulders

•“smile hot-stuff!”

•“sweetheart this is fucking awesome!”

•“take it, like a good girl.”

Bam:

•babygirl, gorgeous, babe

•he licks your face

•skates at sunset

•him getting nervous before you attempt a new trick

•tokens of affection - he collects little things throughout his day to give/show you - a pebble at the skatepark looked like a snail so he gave it to you when he got home.

•he admires you’re sense of humour, the way you’re not afraid to laugh at yourself and have a good time. you’re unapologetically yourself and he absolutely loves that about you.

•his favourite way to hold you is: over his shoulder.

•“you got this babygirl.”

•“it’s just a scratch, i’ll be fine babe.”

•“you’re my little sl*t, aren’t you?”

Ryan:

•darlin’, gorgeous, sweetheart.

•his hugs on a winters night

•quality time

•his hand on your thigh while he’s driving

•he admires your intelligence, the conversations you held with the engineers, writers and crew on set blew his mind. you were studying biochemical engineering and every day what you were learning impressed the shit out of him.

•he would talk about cars for hours, long drives were never boring, he could tell you nearly everything about a car by the sound of it and a glimpse of it speeding past on the highway.

•his favourite way to hold you: however he can grab you, which is usually thrown over his shoulder.

•“Come here gorgeous”

•“that’s great sweetheart, i knew you’d get it”

•“i know darlin, i know”

Ehren:

•hon, beautiful, babygirl

•he’s trying to find the next way to make you smile.

•making snow angels together

•resting your head on his shoulder on long drives in the jackass bus

•you always trying to fix his messed up hair in your apartment bathroom.

•words of affirmation

•he admires your social grace and confidence, the way in which you could walk up to anyone and start a conversation and within 5 minutes it would seem to anyone else that you had been friends for years.

•his favourite way to hold you: piggy back rides

•“whatcha readin’ hon?”

•“god. you’re just beautiful.”

•“yeah, just like that babygirl.”

Novak:

•sweetheart, darlin’, babe

•he makes you breakfast in bed, you both know what it’s like to go hungry so he makes sure you start your day with a full tummy.

•tokens of affection - flowers he picked on the walk home, handmade jewellery. he also shows off in adorable attempts to impress you whenever he gets the chance, usually on his skateboard.

•he admired your self-determination, having gotten your GED and just begun night-school he admired how you worked tirelessly during the day and then pushed on for night school in the evenings.

•his favourite way to hold you: you on his shoulders

•“mornin’ darlin.”

•“babe, check this shit out.”

Johnny leant over the railing of the balcony, the smoke between his long fingers. He seen you move to lean over the balcony next to him from the corner of his peripheral. You tapped the packet of Marlboro reds against your lean thigh, you brought the pack to your lips and drew out a cigarette with your teeth.

He had his zippo in his pocket, it was full of lighter fluid, he’d actually replaced it yesterday. He eyed you bring your lighter to your lips, pushing his own deeper into the pocket of his dickies. He opened his stance on the balcony turning his shoulders toward you.

“You got a light doll?” He said, holding his unlit smoke higher over the balcony.

“Oh yeah. Of course.” You said, approaching him. He placed the cigarette in his lips and you stepped toward each other.

You moved the lit lighter toward the end of the cigarette hanging loosely from his hips. Though your focus was on keeping your very nervous hands steady and ensuring you didn’t cinge the lips of the star of jackass, in your peripheral his eyes were on yours.

Once the end burnt bright as he took a drag your eyes lifted to meet his. Feeling a flush through your stomach rising to a heat in your cheeks and your ears. You moved back to the balcony, taking another drag. He followed suit, his elbow brushing against your own. Your breath hitched - mid french inhale so it was fairly easy for him to spot.

You pulled your eyes shut and barely audible over the chatter of the party he chuckled lowly, a rumble that barely escaped his chest.

“So, tell me. What’s a pretty girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

Bam -

“Yo-uh, cutie in the vans, you gotta give it a little more flick!”

He had seen you around the park over the last week or so. Skating nearly every other guy there to shame. Pulling absolutely insane tricks with nearly zero fear. He had just run his line, popping up out of the bowl with his deck in-hand, the boys sitting at the top smacked their boards on the concrete of the park.

Bringing the hem of his shirt up to hopefully flash you his sweat-glistening abs wipe the sweat from his face. He sent a quick glance in the direction he last seen you. Disappointed when he couldn’t spot you, he made his way over to the seat and slumped down. Exhausted from skating in this heat, but also disappointed you didn’t see his line.

He heard the commotion of a few girls by the half-pipe. He seen you jump out of the half-pipe into his view. One of the girls that was facing back toward him caught Bam looking in your direction. She whispered something to you and you bent down to grab your board you looked over your shoulder meeting eyes with him.

You knew he was the guy everyone gushed over, you’d seen his face on MTV a few times, it was strange he was at the skate park alone and not accompanied by a camera crew.

Dropping your board under your feet you rolled into your line, kicking up to grind the first rail, pumping up the sides of the bowl you flashed him a smirk as you passed him. Pumping up the wall-ride you grabbed the tail and back into the park, up the bowl again you popped out, rather than grabbing your deck you landed and continued past him. Flicking up for a hard flip, you under-flipped your board and you stumbled out of the failed trick. Defeated your bent down to grab your board.

“Yo-uh, cutie in the vans, you gotta give it a little more flick!”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Thanks.” You continued, still puffed from your run.

Warnings: None :)

Summary: after a long crappy day Bam comforts you. :) fluff

You couldn’t even muster the energy to smile at him. You kicked your shoes off, sending them scooting haphazardly into Bam’s pile of filthy shoes in the corner.

You peeled the skin-tight jeans from your body, feeling a warm, calloused hand caress down your hip, to rest gently on your ass. You stumbled into a pair of Bam’s shorts, he stepped over to his desk and retrieved one of his hoodies. He nodded at you, motioning for you to lift your arms. He placed the hoodie on you, brushing your hair back neatly.

He kissed your forehead, his lips just warmer than your skin. You smiled into his chest, inhaling his dwindling cologne. He ran a hand down under your thighs and scooped you up into his arms. You couldn’t help but giggle when the hood fell back over your face. With your ear against his bare chest you could feel the low rumble of his chuckle. He placed you in the bed - which was a pleasant change from the usual. Normally he’d toss you, tackle you or be tying you down onto this bed. But tonight it felt extra soft.

He climbed in after you, flicking on the TV in the corner of his room. He pulled you into his chest, his steady heartbeat was calming. The split ends of his hair resting atop your own.

• bucks his hips into you while you’re going down on him

• he’s definitely the type of bloke to grab a fist full of your hair while he face f*cks you

• “fuuuuuck baby”

• he gets you something to drink, cleans you up and makes sure you’re comfy in his hoodie and shorts while you cuddle after

• hickeys so everyone knows your his

• thigh biting

• teasing

• he loves hearing you whine and beg

• lip biting

sub:

“please baby girl, please”

• he loves when you tug on his hair while he’s doin his thing

• he gets so whiny

• he pushes it sometimes, but his big blues always get him off easy

• he loves when you bite his neck and shoulders

• slow head with eye contact