#steve o

where yall at

When work and play overlap, it's hard to keep your infatuation with your castmate a secret.

Johnny Knoxville x Reader, Fem Y/N, Minors DNI!!!

The first day of any new job is always nerve-wracking. Picking the first day outfit to make the perfect impression, forming good connections with your coworkers, and, in this case, preparing yourself for hours of physical and mental torture all mattered in this beginning to the next four months of your life.

To your surprise, however, the hardest part of this wasn’t getting manhandled by everyone around you; it was the stuff in between. You didn’t know if it was because of the closeness of the group or if for some reason wearing a Woody the Woodpecker baby tee your first day sent the wrong impression, but making yourself feel like you were a part of the team was seeming like an impossible task.

Johnny especially had been weird to you since the first day of shooting. Sure, he would make little quips once in a blue moon and say “hi” to you at the beginning of just about every shoot, but he never stood next to you for more than thirty seconds at a time. In fact, it seemed like he was avoiding you; avoiding eye contact, avoiding accidental touch. It was odd, and it did nothing to help cure your feeling of isolation.

The thing that got on your nerves the most about this was the way that every evening after shooting, he and all the boys would load into one van and drive off to a bar or cheap restaurant. Every single day, no invite came your way. You began to crave a seat in that old van, and you felt like if you didn’t get it, what was supposed to be your big break would be nothing but another sign to pack your bags.

At the end of this first week, like clockwork, the group began to make their way to the van; and you were not going to let them go without you. 

“Hey Pontius!” You shouted, waving to him as you stride towards him grabbing his jacket from a film chair.

“Hey what’s up!” Pontius said, energetically. “So, how was your first week? Feel like quitting yet?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Not one bit. Actually, I was wondering what you and the guys are doing tonight?”

“Oh nothing out of the ordinary.” Pontius shrugged. “We’re hitting up an old western bar near 7th Street. You’re welcome to come with us if you're up for it.”

A smile creeps onto your face without you even noticing. “I would love to!”

“Perfect!” Pontius enthusiastically nodded. “Hey, I also want to apologize that the boys and I never invited you. It’s just...”

“Yeah?”

“Well, the first day we were all talking about going out and Johnny mentioned you weren’t really a big partier, so we didn’t mention it to you.”

What the fuck? Why is that guy so weird about you? 

“Don’t worry about it dude,” you said, fuming inside at the nerve of the asshole who wanted you in the movie in the first place. “No hard feelings.”

Johnny’s eyes widened as Pontius opened the door for you to the middleseat, you shifting to sit right in between him and Wee-Man. You looked ahead with your head held high, not even giving a shit as you felt him stare at your face.

The entire ride to the bar, you and the guys - well, most of them - chatted about everything from movies to bad high school detention stories. Whenever Steve-O or Bam shouted something from the backseat, you would turn your head so that you and Johnny were facing each other, but completely avoiding his gaze as you looked at the guys. It was childish, to use these little moments to try and get on his nerves; but to be fair, it was his fault you never got invited to these hangouts in the first place.

The bar smelled of cheap liquor and leather the second you stepped in. The bar itself was huge and packed with 200 or so twenty-year-olds in denim with cold beers in hand. Every seat and booth was set to face the center of the room to bring attention to the star of the night: a brown and white-spotted mechanical bull.

With Pontius’ magic, everyone in the group had a drink in hand within five minutes of being at the bar. The guys and you were sitting in the circular booth closest to the bull, because as Steve-O put it, “Why the fuck would we go to a bar with a bull if we can’t see it?” Unintentionally, Johnny and you had managed to sit directly on the ends of the booth, the farthest away from each other you could possibly be. God, what is his problem?

“Y/N,” Steve-O shouted over the country music being blasted by the bar. “Are you from LA or what?”

“No, I’m from the South,” You shouted back. “Virginia, right around DC.”

“No shit!” Steve-O laughed. “You must feel right at home then!”

You shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Hey, Knoxville is from Tennessee, aren’t you Knoxville?” Steve-O reached over and poked Johnny’s shoulder, who glared back, annoyed.

“Yeah,” Johnny yelled. He looked from Steve-O to you, like he expected you to say something back. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a conversation. You just stared back at him as Steve-O turned to yell into Ryan’s ear, your eyes trying to study his face to figure out why he was so reserved.

Ten minutes turned into two hours, and everyone had merged into their own little groups. For the past hour, Ryan, Bam and you had been talking about the skating scene in socal, Bam taking every opportunity to brag about how good he was. You laughed every time Ryan would start to nitpick Bam’s storytelling abilities, and the way your conversations flowed with the guys felt like you had been along on these night adventures all week.

Suddenly, your peace had been interrupted by the loud cackling of a young woman across the booth. Johnny and Steve-O had managed to pick up two early twenties-something girls, one of them twirling her fingers around Johnny’s hair as he held her in his lap.

Ryan and Bam hadn’t even noticed your complete lack of attention to their sibling-like quarreling. All you could focus on was the way that Johnny held the girl's waist snug to his; the way his nose tipped down to tickle against her neck. It made you feel sick for some reason, the uneasy feeling made worse when he looked at you, almost hungrily, as he drunkenly drifted his lips up towards her jawline. Was he doing this to get back at your lack of attention in the car and your glares? Your throat went dry, and his head began to tilt back, the sides of his lips curving ever so slightly.

“Y/N, come on back me up here; there’s no fucking way he was able to grind a handrail for more than 45 seconds,” Ryan hollered, his words being muffled out by the clouding of your mind. You continued to gawk at Johnny, who had stopped caressing the girl to give his full attention to your face.

“Yo, Y/N.” Ryan had waved his hands in front of your face, grounding you back to reality. “Let’s get some more drinks, yeah?”

You’ve never wanted another drink more in your life; just something to loosen the intensity of whatever the fuck was happening in this bar.

An hour later and a forgotten amount of alcohol downed, you were hammered. Everything was funny, you couldn’t keep your body from swaying, and the words you were saying? Absolutely incoherent.

Yet, nothing could stop yourself from looking across the booth. What's wrong with me? The same guy who was so kind to tell you about you being accepted onto the Jackass team had done nothing but keep you from being a part of it. You spent the entire evening trying to get back at him for treating you like you weren’t a member of the group. But now? The only thing occupying your mind was the way you wished you were the girl he was touching the body of.

Bullshit. It had to be the alcohol talking. All you needed right now was a distraction, something to get yourself away from this hellhole.

A loud bell shook the room as the center lit up in white lights. Stepping out of the mechanical bull ring was a young woman in pigtails and a cropped Budweiser T-Shirt, the crowd around her cheering as she squealed at her two minute record on the bull.

You weren’t sure if it was the booze or the desire to get up from the booth and away from the man across from you, but as one of the workers surveyed the room for whoever dared to ride the bull next, your hand shot right up. “Alright, DC!” Steve-O screamed in laughter. The guys around you whistled and cheered as the worker helped you into the ring and onto the automated nightmare. You could see Johnny out of the corner of your eyes grin in shock, but you wouldn’t dare look back at the risk of meeting his or the girl’s gaze. Right as the room started counting down to the bull turning on and your shit getting rocked, your buzz had influenced you to give a smile to Knoxville, who tilted his head and smirked in amusement. This was the last thing you would’ve expected to do when you came out tonight; but amidst the chaos, the only choice you had now was to ride the bull.

A buzzer sounded and the bull began to jerk aggressively side to side. Your right hand’s grip on the handle never slipped while you whipped your left arm in the air. You were dedicated to prove to the room, to the guys, to Johnny, that you deserved respect. You were stubborn. You were reckless. You were a jackass.

What felt like only a second later, the same bell sound slammed at the side of your ear. There was an uproar from in front of you. The entire group - minus Knoxville, who had stayed still in his seat, smiling - got up from the booth, flinging their hands into the air. It wasn’t until you swung your legs off of the bull that your high had left and all the drinks from the past hour caught up to you. You tumbled over onto the mat below, seeing out of the corner of your eye the guys rushing into the pen to pick you up. The only thing you could hear as your vision faded to black was the familiar yet frantic sound of your name from the guy who called your apartment just a week ago.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you woke up from your fainting spell back inside the van. Managing to bring your head up from a hard shoulder that you had apparently been using as a pillow, you met the gaze of Knoxville, and realized the pressure of his arm around your waist as he kept your body from falling over. In the van now was only him and you in the backseat, with Pontius driving along the dead road in front of you three.

“Well goodmorning,” Knoxville smiled, the smell of the liquor from the last three hours heavy on his breath. His hand didn’t falter from your waist; from concern that you were going to topple over and fall asleep again, or from plain desire to feel the shape of your torso under his fingertips, you had no idea why his touch lingered.

“Jesus,” you touched the tips of your fingers to your temples in an effort to relieve the excruciating pain. “What happened to the rest of the guys?”

  “All at their apartments,” Johnny replied. “In the time that you stayed passed out, we were able to drop them off.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure to drive as smoothly as possible so you could get your beauty rest,” Pontius jokingly replied, you catching his wink in the rearview mirror. “However, it would be helpful to have some idea of where you live. That way we don’t have to drop you off on the side of the road.”

“Oh shit uh,” you racked your brain for the name of your stupid apartment complex. “I’m in the Park Mesa area, so just make a right on Slauson up ahead.” God, I never want to drink again. 

“Hey,” Johnny turned his head to look directly at you, his sly smirk printed on his face. “You might feel like shit, but I think after your show tonight the bull got more of a beating.”

You smiled. “So, you think the bull has something worse than a complete lack of body control?”

Johnny laughed. “Possibly.”

It could’ve been just the fact that you were both riding the high of your night of drinking, but the wall that Knoxville had seemed to put up this first week had started to crumble down. The rest of the ride to your apartment complex, you gave directions through hooded eyes as you rested your head on Johnny’s shoulder. Never in a million years would you have gotten so close with a guy you had barely known, but the circumstances made you open to bending your rules.

In arriving back at your place, Knoxville had insisted on helping you back into your apartment as Pontius waited with the car. He held you up by your waist from the moment you stepped wobbly out of the car to the last step to your front door. 

“Easy there, cowgirl,” he said as you fiddled with your lock, completely missing the keyhole. He grabbed the key from your hands to open the door and help you to your bedroom, his grip on your body tightening whenever your feet felt like they were giving out. As he kneeled untying your shoes as you sat on the edge of the bed, you didn’t know if you should feel grateful for his southern hospitality, or embarrassed that your lack of substance control led you to need this much help.

As he headed to your bedroom door after helping you into your bed, he suddenly stopped. “Hey, I need to apologize to you.”

You layed with the side of your head on your pillow, staring at him. “Okay.”

“Well, the truth is I’ve been a real piece of shit. I had no right sheltering yourself from hanging out with us in the first place. I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

There was a brief silence in the darkness of the room . “Just so you know,” you started, “I’ve never been more happy than to be a part of your movie.” You paused. “But if you really want me to be apart of this, - to be apart of the team - I want to be fucking treated like it.”

Johnny looked back at you, the sides of his lips curling to a slight smile. “I do want you…to be a part of this.” He reached for the doorknob. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Hey Johnny?” He gently swung back open the door. “For your information, I am a big partier.”

ryan dunn x reader!!! idk why some of my pics look brighter then others😣😣

For context reader is apart of the Jackass crew and for whatever reason you got looped into Pontius and O’s late night shenanigans.