dearjackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, have I ever made it know how much I love Johnny? Anyway, this is based off the song ‘It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World’ by James Brown. I love this song, as thhe song speaks to the strength of women in a world built by and for men — so this story explores Knoxville’s admiration, regret, and respect for a woman who stood on her own long before he realized what he had.

ENJOYYYYYY

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Johnny Knoxville x Reader: “Still Nothing Without You”

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He had always been the kind of man who ran into fire just to prove he could crawl out.

That was the myth of Johnny Knoxville. The daredevil. The jackass. The one who took hits with a smile and laughed louder than the pain. He made his name bleeding for it. Shattering his body for it. Cheering as he crashed through windows, bull-charged, tasered, humiliated.

And the world loved him for it.

But now?

Now, the applause had quieted. The lights didn’t follow him home. And the wreckage he left behind — broken bones, broken friendships, broken marriages — sat heavier than ever in the silence of his one-bedroom LA apartment.

Then came you.

⸻

You weren’t part of the scene. You weren’t looking for stories or stardust. You met him at a bar on a Tuesday — he looked like hell, you were drinking alone, and the bartender handed you both the same shot without asking. A lazy nod to two tired people trying to outrun something.

“I know who you are,” you said.

He smirked, dead behind the eyes. “Yeah, everybody used to.”

“I don’t mean the guy on TV.” You paused. “I mean you. The one who hasn’t spoken for five minutes and keeps flinching every time the ice clinks.”

He blinked. You didn’t look away.

⸻

You didn’t fall for him fast.

You saw the worst of him first — the self-deprecation, the guilt masked as charm, the way he laughed when he was hurting because vulnerability was a language he never really learned. But you stayed.

You didn’t need the stories, the stunts, the old fame. You wanted the man after the fall. The one still searching for himself beneath all the pain he turned into performance.

And for the first time in his life, he didn’t have to perform for love.

⸻

Some nights, he confessed things slowly. Like bruises he wasn’t proud of.

That he hated being alone. That he felt washed up. That he sometimes missed the pain because it made him feel alive.

That part of him wondered if the world had only loved him for how much he could take — not who he was.

“I was good at getting hurt,” he said once, head in your lap, your fingers carding through his graying hair. “I don’t know if I’m good at anything else.”

You said nothing. Just kissed his temple and whispered:

“You’re good at coming back.”

⸻

That became your pattern.

He fell apart — you helped him pick up the pieces. Not because he needed saving, but because you saw him. Even the parts he hated. Especially those.

You didn’t need a hero. He didn’t need a fan.

He needed someone to tell him he didn’t have to be bleeding to be worthy.

You needed someone who’d never stop trying, even when it hurt.

You found each other in the wreckage — and chose to stay.

⸻

Now, he wakes up with you beside him. No spotlight. No crew. No audience.

Just your bare shoulder, your quiet breathing, your coffee mug next to his on the counter.

And it’s enough.

More than the chaos ever gave him.

More than the roar of crowds or the heat of a stunt.

This — you — are the one thing he never saw coming.

And every day he breathes you in, he knows the truth:

“This world might’ve been built for men like me… but it means nothing without you.”

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, you guys seemed to enjoy the last fic about Tommy, and I really enjoyed writing it, so today’s fic is based off the song ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel.

ENJOYYYY

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Tommy Miller x Reader: “Play Me a Memory”

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The bar in Jackson wasn’t much—some mismatched stools, whiskey that tasted like burnt maple, and a busted piano shoved into the corner. But it was something. And in a world like this one, something could be everything.

Tommy Miller leaned against the bar, a half-empty glass in his hand, eyes tracking the shadows that danced on the wood floor as the fire cracked in the stone hearth. You were seated at the keys, playing softly, fingers coaxing out notes that didn’t quite stay in tune, but still carried enough soul to hush the crowd.

It was Friday. Not that days mattered much anymore. But people needed routine. Tommy included.

“Play me a memory, darlin’,” he murmured when you passed by for a sip of water, voice low enough only you could hear.

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Which one?”

He looked at you like you already knew the answer. And you did.

The melody shifted, slow and familiar. Sad, but comforting. Like the kind of sadness people held onto because it made them feel human. You played it for him—for all of them really. The workers, the tired souls, the ones who survived just to survive. Music made them feel like they hadn’t completely lost themselves.

You didn’t have a voice like Billy Joel, but your humming did the trick. And your eyes—God, your eyes never left Tommy’s.

“Tommy used to come here every Friday night,” someone whispered at a table. “Back before she started playin’. Just drank alone.”

But now? He drank alone a little less. Because of you.

You finished the verse, pausing for a beat. Tommy’s hand tapped the bar in rhythm, not quite drunk, but loose enough to be honest.

“You always did have a way with ghosts,” he said quietly when you returned, sliding into the stool beside him. “Pullin’ ‘em out with just a few chords.”

“And you always did have a way of pretending you didn’t have any,” you replied, matching his softness.

He chuckled, short and low. “Ain’t pretendin’. I know they’re there. Just don’t always want to meet ‘em face to face.”

The silence between you was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Like the quiet between notes in a song.

“You ever think we got too used to sorrow?” you asked, looking down at your hands.

Tommy took a slow sip, then set his glass down. “No. I think we just learned how to carry it.”

You watched him, the way the lines on his face deepened when he thought too hard, how his eyes always looked like they were somewhere else—like he was still seeing fire in the night or blood on snow. But tonight, he looked here. He looked at you.

“I keep playin’,” you said, more to yourself than him, “hoping maybe one night you’ll ask me to stop. To come sit with you instead.”

Tommy looked at you like you were the last honest thing left in the world.

“I ain’t never asked,” he said, voice thick, “’cause I didn’t wanna give you a reason to stop. It’s the only thing that makes this place feel like before.”

You reached for his hand. His fingers were rough, calloused, the hands of someone who’d held too many rifles and buried too many friends. But they curled around yours like he’d been waiting to do it for years.

“I’ll still play,” you said, squeezing gently. “But maybe when I’m done, we stop drinking alone.”

He smiled, just a little. It wasn’t much. But in Jackson, in the world you lived in, even a little smile could mean everything.

Outside, the wind howled like a broken song. But inside, there was music. And someone to share it with.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, another tlou fanfic. I love Tommy, my cutie. This is based off the song ‘I Think They Call This Love’ by Elliot James Reay.

ENJOYYYY

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Tommy Miller x Reader: “The Way You Look At Me”

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You weren’t supposed to mean this much.

Not to him. Not to Tommy Miller, who’d lost too many people, seen too much shit, to ever believe someone like you would stay.

But then again, you weren’t like anybody else.

He knew it the first time he saw you—standing in the middle of Jackson with your sleeves rolled up and a wrench in your hand, scolding someone twice your size for mishandling a water filter. You’d looked over your shoulder and caught him staring, and you’d smiled like you already knew him.

That was the moment. That stupid little smile. That was when it started.

And now?

Now it was months later, and Tommy couldn’t stop thinking about you. The way you touched his arm when you laughed. The way you never pushed too hard when he was quiet, but you never walked away either. You stayed.

Tonight was no different. The two of you sat on his front porch, a bottle of homemade whiskey between you, stars blinking down like they hadn’t seen the world fall apart.

You were talking about music—some old band you used to love—and your voice was soft, distant.

“I used to think love felt like fireworks,” you said, glancing over at him. “Like drama. Chaos. But now… I don’t know. I think it feels more like this.”

Tommy’s brows pulled together. “Like what?”

You shrugged. “Like being still with someone. Like peace.”

He looked at you, really looked.

The porch light caught your features in golden tones. Your hair, your lips, your eyes—tired but kind. You weren’t perfect. You had your own scars, your own history. But somehow, just sitting there next to you, Tommy felt like a version of himself he almost forgot existed.

The part of him that didn’t want to run.

The part of him that wanted to stay.

“I ain’t good at this,” he said suddenly, voice low and unsure. “At… feelin’ things. Sayin’ things.”

You smiled again—that same smile that started it all.

“I don’t need the words,” you whispered. “I see it. Every time you look at me like that.”

Tommy’s throat tightened. “How am I lookin’ at you?”

“Like you’re scared as hell, but you don’t want to be anywhere else.”

He laughed—soft, disbelieving. “Yeah,” he admitted. “That sounds about right.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, and he let it happen. Just like he let his hand drift down to yours, fingers weaving together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He thought about the line from some old love song he’d half-heard through a busted radio:

“I think they call this love.”

Maybe they did. Maybe that’s what this was.

And for the first time in years, Tommy didn’t want to run from it.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, I’ve been so obsessed with The Last Of Us lately, and I’ve fallen in love with Joel. This is based off the song ‘What a Wonderful World’ by Louis Armstrong.

ENJOYYY

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Joel Miller x Reader: “In a World Like This”

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The grass was patchy and wild, but green. That was something.

Joel stood at the edge of the small clearing, arms crossed, rifle slung low against his back. The morning sun filtered through the trees in dusty gold shafts, catching in your hair as you bent to pick wildflowers—real, living ones, not dried up husks or plastic remnants of the old world.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. The quiet between you had never felt empty. Just… full in a different way. Full of unspoken things. Of safety. Of gratitude. Of something Joel hadn’t let himself feel in a long, long time.

You turned toward him, a handful of little yellow flowers clutched in your fist, face lit with that smile he couldn’t quite look at for too long—it made something in his chest ache and bloom all at once.

“They remind me of that old song,” you said softly, making your way toward him. “I see trees of green… red roses too…” you hummed it off-key, laughing at yourself. “Remember it?”

Joel’s lips twitched—almost a smile. “Yeah,” he said. His voice was rough from disuse. “Louis Armstrong.”

You grinned. “Didn’t know you liked the classics.”

“Didn’t know we’d be alive long enough to hear ‘em again,” he muttered.

You stepped up close and tucked one of the flowers behind his ear. Joel gave you a look—a real Joel look—but he didn’t move. Just let it happen. Let you.

“I still like to believe there’s good out here,” you said gently. “Even after everything. You ever feel like that?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He looked past you, at the trees swaying slightly in the wind. At the faint, far-off chirp of a bird. The way the sky looked soft today, like it wasn’t holding its breath for the next tragedy.

“Sometimes,” he said at last. His hand lifted—rough and warm—and cupped your cheek. “When I’m with you.”

You leaned into him without hesitation, forehead pressing to his.

And for a moment—just a moment—the world didn’t feel like it was ending. It felt like something new was beginning. Something small, maybe. But real.

A life that still had color. A love that still had meaning.

Joel closed his eyes, letting the moment settle like sunlight on his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “What a wonderful world.”

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties!!! Okay so this is going to be a little different compared to what I normally do. Usually, I pick a song that’s been stuck in my head and imagine a little prompt that reminds me of said song with a character or person. So lately, I’ve been re watching Riverdale, and I’ve been in love with Cole Sprouse since suits life of Zack and Cody, and I love love love Jughead. So let me paint the scene, Jughead and the reader graduation night, things got steamy, later the reader finds out she’s pregnant. But she doesn’t tell Jughead, he’s been accepted into Yale, he’s going to become a famous and successful writer, he’s going to get out of Riverdale. She couldn’t ruin that for him, so they separate, she stays in riverdale and has their baby.

ENJOYYYY

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Jughead Jones x Reader: “Echoes Of Us”

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Graduation night smelled like fireworks, summer rain, and new beginnings. Jughead held you on the edge of the old bridge, arms wrapped tightly around your waist as the river flowed beneath, the future spreading wide like the sky overhead.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, fingers gripping the edges of his flannel. “Everything’s changing.”

Jughead smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. But some things don’t. Like you and me.”

You nodded, wanting to believe it. “You’re leaving in a week.”

“I’ll visit. Every chance I get. I’ll write you a hundred letters.”

You laughed, though your chest ached. “You’re gonna go to Yale and become this famous writer.”

“And I’m gonna write about you,” he whispered. “Every word, every line. You’re my beginning.”

He kissed you that night like he already missed you — like he didn’t want the moment to end. You made love for the first time under the stars, hearts full and young and invincible.

You didn’t know that moment would echo for years.

⸻

The pregnancy test was quiet. Just two lines. No screaming, no thunder. Just a still, cold truth that sat heavy in your hand.

Your mom was at work. Jughead was 300 miles away in New Haven. And you were seventeen with your world crumbling silently around you.

You stared at your phone. His name was lit up in your recent calls. Your finger hovered, trembling.

You imagined him panicking. Dropping out. Staying in Riverdale. Trapped.

He’d finally escaped everything — poverty, trauma, his father’s shadow, Southside High. He’d gotten out.

You couldn’t be the reason he came back.

So you made a decision that would haunt you for years: you said nothing.

⸻

Your daughter, Lilith, came into the world on a rainy October morning.

She didn’t cry at first. She blinked, confused, staring up at you with deep blue eyes that looked far too familiar.

The first time you held her, you whispered, “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done.”

You dropped out of Riverdale Community College. Took a job waiting tables at Pop’s. Started singing at the Whyte Wyrm on Fridays for extra tips. Your dreams didn’t die — they just shifted.

Instead of chasing your future, you were raising it.

Lilith had Jughead’s stubborn jaw and your eyes. She was curious, wild, kind. You never told her about her father — not out of hate, but out of protection. You didn’t know if Jughead would want her. You didn’t know if he’d hate you for keeping her.

So instead, you told Lilith bedtime stories about a brave boy who loved words and wore a crown-shaped beanie.

⸻

You didn’t know Jughead was back until Toni texted you:

“He’s at Pop’s. Looks like he’s been hit by a truck. Thought you should know.”

Your hands shook. You hadn’t seen him in four years.

You almost didn’t go to the Wyrm that night. But something pulled you there — some ghost of a promise.

When you stepped on stage, you felt his eyes before you saw him. The crowd parted like something sacred. And there he was.

Jughead Jones. Older. Taller. Tired in a way he hadn’t been before. The beanie was gone, but the storm behind his eyes was still there.

You sang through the lump in your throat. You didn’t cry. Not yet.

⸻

You stepped outside after your set, lungs craving cold air. You lit a cigarette, then immediately tossed it aside. Your hands were trembling.

He followed you out.

“Y/N.”

You turned slowly, heart beating in your throat. “Hi, Jughead.”

“I saw her.” His voice was hoarse. “At Pop’s. With your mom.”

Your blood froze.

“She’s mine, isn’t she?”

You closed your eyes. “Yes.”

He stepped back like you’d slapped him. “Four years. And you didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted you to have your future,” you whispered. “You were finally free. I couldn’t take that from you.”

“I would’ve stayed,” he said, eyes shining. “I would’ve loved her. Loved you.”

“I know.” Your voice cracked. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

The silence between you stretched until it broke something in both of you.

“She’s got your smile,” he said. “Your laugh.”

“She draws comics. Has this old Polaroid camera she won’t put down. She’s… she’s everything.”

Jughead’s voice broke. “I missed it all.”

“But you can still be in her life,” you said softly. “If you want to be.”

“I do.”

⸻

Lilith was coloring when you brought Jughead to your mom’s house the next day. She looked up, blinking curiously at the man by your side.

“Hi,” he said softly. “I’m Jughead.”

She tilted her head. “That’s a funny name.”

He chuckled, eyes misty. “Yeah. It’s kinda weird.”

You watched them — the instant connection, the way Lilith smiled shyly at him like she already knew him.

“She’s got your heart,” your mom whispered to you. “Just like you had his.”

⸻

Weeks passed. Jughead took her to the park. Read her bedtime stories. Sat in the front row when you sang.

He didn’t pressure you. He didn’t ask for forgiveness. He just showed up, every day.

One night, you found him on the bridge where it all began, staring at the stars.

“I thought I lost everything,” he said. “But you… you kept her safe. You gave her everything.”

You stepped closer. “I never stopped loving you.”

He turned to you, eyes soft and aching. “Then let’s start over.”

You nodded, tears in your eyes. “Okay.”

He kissed you like no time had passed. Like fate had been holding its breath, waiting for this exact moment.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, today’s fic is based off the song ‘Guys My Age’ by Hey Violet.

ENJOYYYY

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Johnny Knoxville x Reader: “Too Wild To Wait”

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You met him on a night you weren’t supposed to be out.

Your best friend had dragged you to some pretentious rooftop birthday party, full of overpriced cocktails and “influencers” who didn’t even look up from their phones. The music was too quiet. The conversation was dull. And the men?

Button-ups. Hair gel. Their version of flirting was calling you “intense.”

You left after 40 minutes and never looked back.

You wandered into the first bar that wasn’t glowing pink with curated neon. And that’s where you saw him—wearing jeans that had definitely survived at least one explosion, sitting backwards on a barstool, laughing so hard he nearly fell off.

Johnny Knoxville.

You weren’t a fangirl. You weren’t even sure if it was him at first. But when he turned and caught your eye, something in your chest jumped.

It wasn’t recognition. It was warning.

And you didn’t listen.

⸻

He bought you a whiskey instead of a White Claw. Didn’t ask what you did for a living. Didn’t ask where you were from. He just said:

“You’ve got that look. Like you’re ready to get into a little trouble.”

You smirked. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind that leaves bruises and stories.”

God help you—you were curious.

⸻

That was two weeks ago. Since then, you’d seen him four times.

Always late. Always impulsive. Always unpredictable.

Tonight, you were sitting on the hood of his car in front of a gas station, legs swinging, the warm California air curling around your skin.

He was inside trying to talk a clerk into giving him a free Red Bull. You didn’t know why he cared—he could definitely afford one—but Knoxville lived on charm, not currency.

He came back out five minutes later, grinning, Red Bull in hand.

“Guess what?” he said, tossing it to you. “I’m banned again.”

You caught the can and raised an eyebrow. “How many gas stations is that now?”

He thought for a second. “In this ZIP code? Three.”

You snorted. “Impressive.”

“I know,” he said, hopping up beside you on the hood. “Some people collect stamps. I collect petty vendettas.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself.

“Still,” you said, “you’re a bad influence.”

He leaned back on his elbows, legs stretched out, completely unbothered.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

⸻

The night went quiet for a second—just crickets and the occasional whoosh of a passing car.

You watched the sky instead of him.

“Guys my age don’t do this kind of stuff,” you said finally. “Gas stations at midnight. Riding shopping carts down empty parking garages. Just… being stupid for fun.”

“They don’t know how to be stupid,” Johnny replied. “They’re too busy trying to impress you.”

You looked over at him. “And you’re not?”

“Nope,” he said. “I already know you’re not impressed. That’s why I like you.”

Something in your stomach flipped.

⸻

You stayed there, shoulder to shoulder in silence. The kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty—it feels charged.

You felt it in your fingers. In your jaw. Like your whole body was on standby, waiting for something reckless.

“Do you regret it?” you asked.

He tilted his head toward you. “What?”

“The stunts. The broken bones. The… I don’t know. Mayhem.”

Johnny grinned, slow and sure. “Nah. Pain heals. Regret doesn’t.”

You nodded. “That’s poetic, for a guy who once got hit in the face with a giant rubber fist.”

He laughed—full and loud and real.

“Hey,” he said. “That fist’s in a museum now.”

⸻

You didn’t even realize you were staring until he looked back at you.

His eyes were something else in the dark—sharp, but soft. Curious. Familiar in a way that felt dangerous.

“You thinking about kissing me, or judging me?” he asked.

Your breath caught. “What if I said both?”

He leaned in, slow and cocky and all confidence. “Then I’d say kiss me first, judge me after.”

God, he made it too easy.

But you didn’t move.

You liked this part—the almost. The build. The tension before the fall.

Johnny seemed to know that, too. He didn’t push.

He just leaned close enough that you could smell the smoke on his clothes and the leftover whiskey on his breath.

“I’ve been with guys who planned out our dates a week in advance,” you said softly. “Who looked good in suits and texted me back with proper punctuation.”

“Bet they never made your heart race,” he replied.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Because the truth was—you hadn’t felt this alive in years. And Johnny? He made you feel like a fuse waiting to blow.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, another Johnny smut for you lot. The reader is more dominant in this one. This one is based off the song ‘The Boy Is Mine’ by Ariana Grande.

ENJOYY

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Johnny Knoxville x Reader: “Mine Tonight”

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You saw her looking at him again.

The same way she had at the bar. The same way she leaned a little too close when she laughed at one of his stupid, charming jokes. He probably didn’t even notice—Johnny Knoxville was oblivious when it came to that kind of attention. But you weren’t.

He was yours.

And sometimes… he needed a little reminder.

When you tugged him out of the crowd by the collar of his shirt, he followed without question. A smirk played on his lips like he already knew what was coming, like he enjoyed pushing your buttons just to see what you’d do when they snapped.

You dragged him down the hall of your shared penthouse suite, heels clicking against marble floors, his laughter dying in his throat when you shoved him hard against the door the moment it closed behind you.

“Someone’s feeling feisty,” he murmured, eyes darkening with something feral. “Is this about that girl?”

You didn’t answer. Not with words.

You pushed your thigh between his legs, hard enough that his hips jolted forward involuntarily, grinding against you. He groaned low in his throat.

“Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes?” you asked, voice low, sultry, dangerous.

He swallowed, eyes darting over your face, taking in the cold fire in your gaze. “No, ma’am.”

Good boy.

You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled it over his head roughly, not caring where it landed. He was already panting, eyes fixed on you like you were a goddamn hurricane.

“I don’t like sharing,” you said, walking him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He dropped down with a soft grunt, propped on his elbows.

“You don’t have to,” he said, that teasing lilt still in his voice. “I’m yours, baby. You know that.”

“You say that,” you purred, climbing onto the bed and straddling his lap, “but you still let bitches laugh too hard at your jokes.”

“Didn’t even notice,” he muttered. “Swear.”

You gripped his jaw, firm but not cruel. “Then keep your eyes on me.”

His pupils blew wide. You loved that look on him—want, need, obedience all tangled up in those dark brown eyes.

You kissed him then, slow and punishing, your teeth catching his bottom lip, sucking it between yours before pulling away.

He tried to chase your mouth.

You didn’t let him.

“Hands behind your back,” you ordered.

He obeyed instantly, shoulders tense, arousal clear in the way his cock strained against his jeans.

You took your time stripping him. Watching him squirm as you knelt between his thighs, unzipping him like unwrapping a present that already belonged to you.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re like this,” he groaned as you ran your nails down his chest. “When you take control…”

“You like that, huh?” you said, stroking him slowly. Teasing. “You like being reminded who you belong to?”

“Yes,” he panted. “Fuck yes.”

You leaned down, breath ghosting over the head of his cock. “Then behave like it.”

You licked a slow stripe up the underside, watching him twitch, watching his fingers curl into the sheets as he struggled not to move.

But you didn’t give him release. Not yet.

Instead, you climbed over him again, lining him up with your entrance and sinking down inch by torturous inch, your hands gripping his wrists and pinning them above his head.

He let out a strangled moan.

“Say it,” you whispered, your lips brushing his ear. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” he gasped. “You—fuck—you, always you.”

You rolled your hips hard, grinding against him until he cursed, until his back arched and he was damn near trembling beneath you.

“That girl at the bar?” you murmured darkly, riding him harder. “She could never make you feel like this.”

“No one can,” he groaned. “Only you, baby. Only fucking you.”

You smirked.

You already knew.

You leaned down and kissed him again, rough and hungry, claiming his mouth the way you claimed everything else.

Tonight, you weren’t just reminding Johnny Knoxville who he belonged to.

You were showing the world.

The boy was yours.

And anyone who thought otherwise?

They’d learn—

the hard way.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, so this fic is giving angstttt, but it’s okay bc it’s also a spicy one. It’s based off the song ‘You’re Losing Me’ by Taylor Swift.

ENJOYYY

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Johnny Knoxville x Reader: “On The Edge Of Letting Go”

————

The house was quiet, except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old hardwood floor under your pacing. You’d been up for hours, long after Johnny had stumbled in at 2 a.m., smelling of whiskey and adrenaline, as if that made up for the silences between you.

You stood by the window, fingers ghosting the edge of the curtain, heart heavy and sore. The city lights bled through the glass, but your thoughts were elsewhere—back to when he used to text you before every stunt, even if it was just a “love you” or “if I die doing something dumb, know I was thinking of you.”

But those messages had stopped.

So had the softness in his voice. The way he used to hold you after long days. Now he came home bruised, distant, eyes bloodshot for reasons you didn’t ask about anymore.

Behind you, the floor creaked. You didn’t turn.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Johnny’s voice was rough, cracked from lack of sleep and too much shouting at his own body to keep up.

“I did sleep,” you said quietly. “I just didn’t dream of you this time.”

That made him stop in his tracks. You heard the breath catch in his throat.

He came to stand behind you, shirtless, in low-hung sweats, looking like sin and sorrow all rolled into one. You used to run to him. Now you barely looked.

“You still mad at me?” he asked, a hint of that cocky smirk trying to worm its way into his voice.

But you didn’t answer.

Instead, you turned slowly, looking up at him with a calm that scared him more than any of your past screaming matches.

“Johnny…” you whispered, voice barely there. “Why are you fighting so hard to die… when you won’t lift a finger to fight for us?”

His expression faltered. Just for a second. But it was enough.

That’s when you saw it—the realization in his eyes. The understanding that you weren’t threatening to leave.

You were already gone.

“I…” he started, then stopped. Ran a hand through his messy hair. “Shit, I don’t know how to be anything other than chaos. You knew that about me.”

“I did. I still do.” You stepped closer, close enough that your breath mingled. “But I thought I mattered more than the next high. I thought we mattered more than you needing to prove something to everyone else.”

He swallowed hard. His hands itched to touch you but didn’t dare.

“You do matter,” he said. “Fuck, you’re the only thing that ever really did.”

It wasn’t a declaration. It was a confession. Late, maybe too late.

You stared at him a moment longer, heart thudding with anger, pain, and want all tangled into one unbearable ache.

And maybe that’s why you kissed him.

Because you didn’t know how to say goodbye, but your body still remembered how to say please.

The kiss was rough. Desperate. His mouth crushed to yours, teeth clashing before his hands finally, finally slid over your waist like he couldn’t believe you were still letting him touch you.

Clothes fell away like memories—fast, careless, painful.

He lifted you onto the kitchen counter, hands gripping your thighs like lifelines, mouth trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, murmuring apologies between every bruise he left behind.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your skin. “I know I’m losing you. I can feel it every time you look away.”

Your hands tangled in his hair, yanking his head up to meet your eyes.

“Then do something about it,” you whispered. “Show me you still know how to hold on.”

He did.

He slid into you with a groan, forehead pressed to yours, and for a moment, everything else melted—his recklessness, your heartbreak, the space between you.

You clung to each other like people trying to memorize the feeling before it disappeared.

His thrusts were slow at first, like he wanted to savor you—but soon turned frantic, wild, as if he was afraid you’d vanish in the morning.

“Don’t let go,” you gasped, nails digging into his back.

“I’m not,” he growled. “Not this time. I swear to God.”

You kissed him again, not because you believed him—but because, for just this second, you wanted to pretend.

Wanted to believe this wasn’t goodbye.

But deep down, you both knew:

He was still losing you.

And maybe this was the last time you’d let him feel what that meant.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties!! A Bambi fic to fill everyone’s needs. But it’s a little short and this is more of a spicy one, based off the song ‘Good For You’ by Selena Gomez. (YES I KNOW I’VE ALREADY USED THIS SONG BUT I WAS INSPIRED AND I LOVE IT.)

Enjoyyyyy

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Bam Margera x Reader: “Look So Good For You”

————

The house was quieter than usual. A few empty beer bottles on the kitchen counter, candles burned low, and the scent of woodsmoke and cologne lingered thick in the air.

You leaned against the doorway, watching Bam slump down on the worn leather couch. His black hoodie hung off one shoulder, revealing inked skin you still knew by memory. His eyes dragged up when he felt you looking.

“You’re staring.”

“Maybe I like what I see.”

He leaned his head back, laughing softly.

“You always did know how to drive me crazy without even trying.”

You crossed the room slowly, hips swaying just enough to make a point. The silk camisole you wore clung to your body, sheer and suggestive—intentionally so. You’d picked it for him. Only him.

“Funny. I’ve been trying all night.”

He sat up straighter, eyes darkening as you stepped between his legs. His hands found your waist instinctively, thumbs grazing bare skin.

“You did something to your hair.”

“You noticed?”

He pulls you in closer, speaking low. “I notice everything about you. Especially when you’re trying to look this damn good.”

Your breath hitched when his mouth brushed your stomach through the fabric. It was slow—intentional. His lips ghosted up your ribs, then your chest, until he was looking up at you.

“I wanted to look good… just for you.”

There’s a slight growl in his voice, hands sliding down your thighs. “Mission accomplished.”

He stood, spinning you until your back hit the wall with a soft thud. His mouth was on yours in a second—messy, consuming, like he’d been starving for you since the last time you left his bed. One hand tangled in your hair while the other slid up your thigh, hitching your leg around his hip.

“You missed this?”

“Missed you. You wearing this little nothing, giving me that look…”

You gasped as his fingers slipped beneath the edge of your panties, dragging down the lace slowly—teasing. His mouth was on your neck, sucking bruises like he wanted to mark you all over again.

“I’ve been thinking about this all week. About you—in me, on me… everywhere.”

“Fuck. You say stuff like that, you better be ready to finish what you start.”

You pulled his hoodie over his head, his shirt following quickly after. The tattoos on his chest and arms still had that same effect on you—chaotic, beautiful, real. You dragged your nails down his stomach, just enough to make him grunt.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch and laying you down. His mouth trailed down your body, kissing every inch like it was holy. When he reached the place between your thighs, he looked up.

“You sure?”

“I want you. Always wanted you.”

His tongue was sinful—slow, relentless, drawing sounds out of you he knew too well. Your fingers twisted in his hair as you writhed beneath him, breathless moans filling the room. You were already so close when he finally slid into you—hot, thick, filling you completely.

Groaning in in your ear, “this—this is mine. You’re mine.”

Each thrust was deep, controlled, needy but purposeful. Your bodies moved like they remembered every inch of each other. His hand slid between your bodies, rubbing slow circles where you needed him most.

“Bam—”

“Let go, baby. I got you.”

You came with a cry, legs shaking, nails digging into his back. He followed with a low growl, spilling inside you as he held you tighter than ever.

He didn’t move right away—just rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“That wasn’t just sex. Not for me.”

“Me neither.”

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties!!! It’s been awhile since I’ve written about Bambi and I’ve missed it. This is based off the song ‘Want You Back’ by 5sos. Hate to skill you with angst again but, I’m not sorry.

ENJOYYYY

————

Bam Margera x Reader: “Burning For You Still”

————

The low hum of old rock classics fills the dim room. You swirl the drink in your glass absentmindedly, heart thudding in your chest. You hadn’t meant to come here. And you definitely hadn’t expected him to walk through the door.

He pauses when he sees you, voice tight. “Well, shit. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You half-laugh, defensive .“Trust me, neither did I. I was just… passing through.”

He walks closer, hesitating just a second too long, like he’s wondering if you’ll get up and run.

“You look… different.”

Your eyes narrowing. “Different good or different ‘thank god you left’?”

He wears that famous smirk on his face, but it quickly fades. “Different good. I mean, I always liked how you looked when you were pissed off too.”

“Still good at saying the wrong thing, huh?”

“Yeah, well… some things haven’t changed. Some things have. I’ve been sober six months.”

Your eyes flick up, genuine surprise breaking through the guarded exterior.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Rehab sucked. But waking up without my life in flames every day? That’s… new.”

A beat passes. The music shifts to something slower, something you both recognize. You remember slow dancing in his living room to this song. Back when things were good. Before Jackass. Before the chaos.

“I heard Sheena got married.”

Bam snorts at the comment. “Yeah, to some accountant. Can you believe that? Her life’s all ‘hot yoga and spreadsheets’ now.”

“Sounds peaceful.”

“It is. It’s what she wanted. I wasn’t what she wanted. Hell, I wasn’t what anyone wanted.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like you didn’t push everyone away.”

“I know. I did push people away. Especially you.”

You drop your eyes to your drink, throat tight. Memories flood in. The nights waiting for him to come home. The fights. The make-ups. The love that burned too hot.

“I begged you to slow down. To let me in. You chose the chaos every time.”

“I didn’t know how to choose anything else. Not then.”

“That’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not. I’m not trying to make excuses. I just… I hear that song on the radio sometimes. That 5 Seconds of Summer one—‘Want You Back.’ And I swear to god, it punches me in the gut every time.”

You glance at him. His expression is raw, no camera, no performance. Just Bam. The man beneath the tattoos and scars.

“I hate myself for what I did. For what I lost. And I know I can’t fix it. But if I could just—hell, if I could go back…”

“You’d what? Be better? Love me right this time?”

“Yes. I would. I still love you, Y/N. I never stopped. I know I fucked up, but damn it—I want you back.”

Your chest aches. Every part of you screams to run, to protect what little is left of your heart. But there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. Hope? Or just regret?

“You don’t get to say that like it’s simple. It’s been years, Bam.”

“I know. I just… had to say it. I had to tell you.”

Silence. The kind that weighs heavy, that suffocates.

“What do you expect me to do with that?”

“Nothing. I just needed you to know. That I remember everything. That I wish I could undo every time I let you down.”

You finish your drink, the burn matching the one in your chest.

“Memories don’t mean much when they’re soaked in pain, Bam.”

You stand, grabbing your coat. He watches you, shoulders tense.

“But… maybe I’ll come back next Friday. Same time.”

His face shifts, a crack of hope breaking through the years of regret.

“I’ll be here.”

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

This is my first Luke Hemmings fic, I love him. 5sos is my favourite band, so this is long overdue. This is based off of one of their own songs, “Heartbreak Girl”.

ENJOYYYY

————

Luke Hemmings x Reader: “Heartbreak Girl, Heartbreak Guy”

————

You were crying on the kitchen floor. Again.

Not exactly your ideal Friday night.

“He said it wasn’t working,” you sniffled into your hoodie sleeve. “Like… what does that even mean, Luke?”

Luke Hemmings sat beside you on the cool tile, pulling his knees up to his chest. His lip ring glinted faintly in the low light.

“It means he’s a moron,” he said flatly.

You let out a dry laugh. “Thanks for the insight, Dr. Hemmings.”

Luke glanced sideways at you, a strand of blond hair falling into his eyes. “You want honest or comforting?”

You hesitated. “Both?”

He shrugged. “Okay. Honest? He never deserved you. Comforting? He’ll regret it. And when he does, I’ll be here with popcorn and a smug face.”

You finally cracked a real smile, bumping your shoulder against his. “You’re such a dork.”

“You love it,” he said, but there was something quieter in his tone.

The silence settled between you. Not awkward, just there. You’d known Luke since second grade—he was the weird kid with the Pokémon pencil case and knee socks who always gave you half his gummy worms. And somehow, sixteen years later, you still had him.

Your phone buzzed again. Luke reached over and turned it face down.

“You don’t have to see that.”

You stared at the screen. “He’s probably already texting someone new.”

Luke’s jaw clenched. “That guy wouldn’t know love if it hit him with a damn guitar.”

“Wow. Violent.”

He smirked. “Just passionate.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Hey, speaking of—aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing with the guys tonight?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, but Calum said you needed me more.”

Your heart softened. “You told them why?”

He nodded. “They were cool about it. Also, we kinda have a show tomorrow night—”

“I know, I have tickets, remember?” you said, your voice brighter now. “I wouldn’t miss your band’s first gig back home for anything.”

Luke gave you a half-smile. “Well… about that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I, uh… kinda have a surprise for you.”

⸻

The next night, the venue was packed.

You stood near the front, your eyes sweeping over the stage setup. Ashton waved when he saw you and shouted, “Y/N! Glad you made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you called back.

Calum and Michael were tuning their guitars. Luke was off to the side, talking to one of the techs, his long fingers dancing over his strings. He was wearing his classic black skinny jeans and a worn-out Nirvana shirt, and when he finally turned toward the crowd, the whole room erupted.

He spotted you almost immediately. His blue eyes softened, and he gave you a quick wink.

You felt your heart stutter a little.

“Alright, Sydney!” Ashton shouted from behind the drums. “We’re 5 Seconds of Summer, and we’ve got a brand new one for you tonight!”

The crowd screamed.

Luke stepped up to the mic, fingers tightening on the neck of his guitar.

“This song is for someone who doesn’t realize how much they mean to me. But maybe after this, they will.”

Your breath caught.

The guitar strummed once. Then again. And then—

“You call me up, it’s like a broken record…”

The lyrics hit you like a truck.

“Saying that your heart hurts, that you’ll never get over him…”

Your eyes widened as you stared up at him, realization dawning.

Was he… singing this about you?

He kept his eyes locked on yours through the whole verse. Even as the crowd cheered, it felt like you were the only person there.

“He treats so bad, and I’m so good to you, it’s not fair.”

You swallowed hard.

Luke’s voice cracked a little—just slightly—on the chorus.

“Heartbreak girl, hold you tight, straight through the daylight, I’m right here, when you gonna realise, that I’m your cure?”

You blinked, and your vision blurred.

No. You were not crying at a pop-punk show.

But then the bridge came, and Luke walked to the edge of the stage, close enough to touch you.

“I dedicate this song to you, the one who, never sees the truth, that I can take away your hurt, heartbreak girl.”

And then—he pointed at you. The crowd squealed around you, but all you could do was stare back.

When the song ended, the applause was thunderous. But Luke didn’t move. He stayed there, mic in hand, chest rising fast.

“And, uh—Y/N?” he said into the mic. “This next part isn’t a song.”

You froze.

Oh god.

“Remember in Year 10, when I asked you to the formal, and you thought I was joking?”

You nodded dumbly. The crowd laughed.

“Well. I wasn’t.” He scratched the back of his neck. “And I’ve spent every year since regretting that I didn’t just say how I felt back then.”

You were holding your breath.

“I love you,” he said simply. “I think I’ve been in love with you since you stole my lunch in primary school.”

The crowd lost it. But all you could do was stare at him like your entire world had shifted.

“So…” he said, lowering the mic slightly. “What do you say? Can I finally stop being the heartbreak guy?”

You didn’t hesitate.

You ran past the front row, up the side of the stage, and launched into his arms.

He caught you easily, laughing into your hair.

“You really mean it?” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Every word.”

And when he kissed you—right there on stage, in front of hundreds of people—every heartbreak you’d ever felt disappeared like a song fading into silence.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Another fic about Colin, and I’m not sorry, I love him. This one is based off the song ‘Paper Crown’ by Alex Benjamin.

ENJOYYYY

————

Colin Bridgerton x Reader: “Paper Crown, Golden Heart”

————

The ballroom glimmered with a hundred chandeliers, but Colin Bridgerton’s eyes were fixed on only one thing: you.

You stood alone by the window, your gloved hands clasped neatly, staring out at the night like it held the answer to everything. You always did that—watched the stars like you expected one to fall just for you.

And, to be fair, if any would, Colin thought, it should be for you.

He crossed the room before he could talk himself out of it.

“Stargazing in the middle of a ball?” His voice was teasing, but there was a softness to it only you could hear.

You turned, smiled faintly. “Better company than some of the men in this room.”

“Present company excluded, I hope?”

You arched a brow. “That depends. Are you here to make me feel like a prize to be won or a person to be seen?”

Colin blinked. That was one of the things about you—your words were always a challenge. Always honest. Always impossible to ignore.

“I see you,” he said simply.

You tilted your head. “Do you, Colin?”

He stepped closer, the hem of his coat brushing your gown. “Yes. And if I didn’t before, I certainly do now. You’ve been… impossible to forget.”

“Is that what I am to you? A memory?”

He hesitated. “You were never just a memory. You’re the regret I carry every time I walk into a ballroom and hope you won’t be there—because if you are, I’ll be reminded I never had the courage to reach for you.”

You laughed softly, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “And if I had been wearing a crown made of gold, not paper, would you have?”

“Don’t,” he said, pain flickering behind his eyes. “Don’t make it about that. You know it was never about status.”

You stepped away, arms crossing. “But it was, Colin. I wasn’t the diamond of the season. I wasn’t titled. I wasn’t—”

“You were everything, and I was a coward.”

Silence.

You glanced at him, voice quieter. “You say that now. But words are easy.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Then let me show you. Let me prove it.”

“Why now?”

“Because I watched you dance with Lord Banbury and I thought—he sees the crown on your head, even if it’s made of paper. And I hated that I let him see it before I told you I always saw it too.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, your mask slipped.

“I wore that crown for you, you know,” you said. “Back when I thought you might love me. Back when I thought that would be enough.”

Colin stepped forward, gaze intense. “It is enough. You are enough.”

You stared at him, the words echoing in the stillness between you.

Then, finally: “Say it again.”

“I love you,” he said. “Not as a dream. Not as a regret. I love you like a fool who’s only now realized the value of the thing he left behind.”

You looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the truth there.

And maybe the crown you wore was paper. Maybe it always had been.

But to him?

You were a queen.

————

xoxo jackass

(I have part two already written, let me know if you’re interested)

[dearjackass]

————

This fanfic is based off the song ‘Don’t Forget You Love Me’ by Calum Hood (I LOVE THIS SONG)

Enjoyyyy

————

Colin Bridgerton x Reader: “In Case You Forgot”

————

The Bridgerton ball was in full swing. Music swelled from the orchestra, laughter spilled across the room, and gowns shimmered like stars under candlelight. And yet, Colin Bridgerton hadn’t smiled once all evening.

Not really. Not since you.

You stood across the ballroom, pretending to be enthralled by some Duke’s story about a fox hunt while your eyes kept flickering toward him—Colin, your Colin, except he wasn’t anymore.

“Excuse me,” you muttered and escaped to the balcony, needing air, distance, clarity. You gripped the marble railing, the night wind cooling your flushed cheeks.

And then—his voice.

“I thought I’d lost the ability to recognize you in a crowd. Turns out, I just trained myself not to look.”

You turned slowly, heart slamming, voice caught. “That’s dramatic. Even for you.”

Colin stepped into the moonlight, his jaw tight, his eyes stormy and tired. “You didn’t answer my letters.”

“You stopped writing first,” you said, barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t know what to say,” he confessed. “I thought if I gave you space—”

“You thought I’d forget?” You cut him off, something breaking in your voice. “Forget you? That summer? The promises? You?”

Colin looked away. “No. I hoped you’d remember I loved you.”

Your laugh was bitter. “You left. No explanation. No goodbye. Just silence. So forgive me if I struggled to believe in a love that vanished with the season.”

“I didn’t vanish.” He stepped closer, desperate now. “I was hurting. Terrified. Everything was changing. My brothers were marrying, traveling, being everything they were supposed to be, and I—”

“You ran,” you said. “And now you’re back because it’s convenient?”

Colin flinched like you’d struck him. “I came back because I never stopped loving you. And I thought maybe—maybe you hadn’t either.”

Your breath caught.

“I listen to the sound of your voice in my head,” he said, eyes glassy. “Every night. I say your name like a prayer I’m not sure I deserve to speak. So if you want to tell me it’s over—”

“It was over,” you cut in. “But only because I thought I wasn’t enough for you.”

He shook his head, stepping even closer. “You were everything. You are everything. I was the one who wasn’t enough.”

Silence stretched between you, fragile and full.

“Do you remember what you told me?” you said finally. “The night before you left.”

He nodded. “That I’d always come back to you.”

“And?”

His voice broke. “Don’t forget you love me.”

You swallowed. “I tried to forget. I did. But… I remembered.”

He reached for your hand, tentative. “Then let me prove it wasn’t a lie.”

“You already are,” you whispered, fingers curling into his.

And in that moment, under the stars and secrets and years between you, the ache began to soften. Because you both remembered—and that was the beginning of something new.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

PLEASE LEAVE REQUESTS, I WANNA KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS WANT ME TO WRITE!!!

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, I wrote this one abit different than my usual ones so I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. But I’ve been obsessed with the song ‘Call Me Back’ by Yana lately, so that’s what this fic is based on.

ENJOYYY XX

————

Johnny Knoxville x Reader: “Static On The Line”

————

You: (whispering into the phone)

“Johnny… if you’re there, just… I don’t know. Breathe or something. You don’t have to talk. Just—let me know you’re listening.”

Johnny: (static crackling on the other end)

“I’m here.”

————

It had been weeks since the last time Johnny picked up your calls. He was always the one to disappear when things got hard, folding into himself and the chaos of whatever stunt, movie, or road trip he’d thrown himself into this time. But you were never good at goodbyes. Especially not with him.

The voicemail box was full. The texts left unread. And still, you called.

And tonight—tonight, he finally answered.

————

You:

“Jesus. I thought I was talking to your voicemail again.”

Johnny: (dryly)

“Wish I could say I was surprised you kept calling.”

You:

“Wow. Okay. Guess I deserve that.”

Johnny: (sighing)

“No, you don’t. I’m just—shitty at this. At talking. At you.”

————

You can hear a lighter flick on the other end. He’s smoking again. Stress habit.

————

You:

“I wasn’t asking for a damn monologue, Johnny. I just wanted a sign you hadn’t vanished off the face of the Earth.”

Johnny:

“Didn’t vanish. Just… ducked out. Like I always do.”

You:

“Why do you do that? Why pull me in, make me feel like I’m something—then disappear like I’m nothing?”

————

There’s a pause. You can practically hear him staring at the ceiling, jaw clenched like he always did when he didn’t want to answer.

————

Johnny:

“Because I’m scared as hell of what it means to need you.”

————

Silence.

————

You:

“…That supposed to make me feel better?”

Johnny:

“No. It’s supposed to make you understand that it wasn’t about you. It never was.”

————

You lean back on your bed, fingers digging into the sheets.

————

You:

“You could’ve called. Texted. Anything. I stayed up night after night thinking I did something wrong.”

Johnny:

“You didn’t. God, you didn’t. I was just—dumb. Trying to prove I didn’t need anyone. Especially not someone who saw through all my bullshit.”

————

He laughs, bitterly. Then quieter—

———-

Johnny:

“You were the only thing that felt real.”

You:

“…Then why didn’t you fight for me?”

————

Another long pause.

————

Johnny:

“I didn’t think I deserved to.”

————

You exhale sharply. That stupid knot in your throat you’ve been holding in for weeks finally threatens to unravel.

————

You:

“Well, congratulations. You don’t have me anymore.”

————

Click.

Or—at least, you should’ve hung up. But your thumb hovered. Because no matter how much he hurt you, part of you still wanted him to say it.

To do something.

And then, softly—

————

Johnny:

“Call me back. If you ever wanna try again. If there’s still a piece of you that’s got room for a broken asshole like me.”

You:

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep, Knoxville.”

Johnny:

“I’m not. I’m asking you to believe I might finally be ready to keep one.

————

The line goes quiet again. But this time, there’s no static. Just breathing. And maybe… a beginning.

————

xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

————

Hey cuties, this fic is based off the song ‘Angel’ by Shaggy. I think it’s cuteee.

Enjoyyyyyy

————

Johnny Knoxville x Reader: “My Angel”

————

It was a late night in the city, the air was thick with the hum of neon lights and distant laughter. You had just finished a long shift at the diner and decided to grab a drink at the local bar to unwind. As you walked in, your eyes immediately fell on a familiar face sitting at the corner of the bar. Johnny Knoxville. The man known for his wild antics, charming grin, and off-the-wall stunts. But tonight, he was sitting quietly, nursing a beer.

You didn’t want to bother him, but as you walked closer, he caught your eye, his lips curling into a playful smile.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite person,” Johnny teased, motioning to the seat next to him. “Come join me, I could use the company.”

You raised an eyebrow, hesitant but intrigued. “You’re alone tonight? I thought you’d be out causing chaos with the guys.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Even wild men need a break sometimes, you know?”

You slid into the seat next to him, ordering your drink. The bar was bustling with energy, but for a moment, it felt like you two were in your own little world.

“So, what’s been going on with you?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Johnny took a swig of his beer and glanced at you, his gaze intense yet warm. “Same old, same old. Just surviving another day in this crazy life. You know, I’ve been doing some thinking. A lot of people talk about the bad stuff I do, but no one ever talks about the good.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, well, people are good at judging others. But you’ve got a heart of gold, Johnny.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Heart of gold, huh? Never heard anyone say that before.”

“Well, it’s true,” you replied, your voice softening. “You might be a little reckless, but you’ve got a good soul. I can see it.”

Johnny leaned in slightly, his smile turning a bit more serious. “I know I can be a mess sometimes, but I’d do anything for the people I care about. That includes you, you know.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You had always admired Johnny, his wild energy, and the way he lived life fearlessly, but you never expected him to say something like that.

A soft, familiar tune began playing over the speakers — Angel by Shaggy. You hummed along absentmindedly, the song always reminding you of the tenderness beneath the chaos of life.

Johnny glanced at you, noticing your smile as the lyrics filled the air. “I always think of you when I hear this song,” he said, his voice lowering. “The whole vibe of it… ‘She’s my angel.’”

You looked at him, surprised. “Really? I never took you for a Shaggy fan.”

“Hey,” he said with a wink, “I’ve got layers, you know? You’ve seen me take a punch, but I’ve got a soft side too.”

The lyrics hit you differently now. You listened, remembering the line that went, “I just wanna let you know, girl, that you’re my angel.”

“Johnny,” you began, feeling the warmth spread in your chest, “you’re really something else, you know that?”

He laughed softly, taking your hand in his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You make me wanna be better, y’know? You’re like… my angel, keeping me grounded. I never thought I’d need someone like you, but now I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Your pulse quickened at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you replied, trying to keep it light. “Maybe you just need the right person to keep you in check.”

Johnny grinned, leaning in closer. “Well, I think I found that person.”

The rest of the night faded into the background as you lost yourself in conversation with Johnny. The song continued to play, but this time, it felt like it was your song too, speaking for the bond that was beginning to form between the two of you.

As the night wore on, Johnny stood up and held out his hand. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I think we’ve had enough chaos for tonight. How about a walk? Just you and me, no craziness.”

You took his hand, smiling up at him. “Sounds perfect.”

As you stepped into the cool night air together, the world felt a little bit lighter. Johnny Knoxville, the wild man of mischief, was your angel tonight, and you knew this was just the beginning of something special.

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xoxo jackass

[dearjackass]

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Hey cuties, I thought I’d do one about Jinx as well bc I LOVE HER SM. It’s based off the song ‘Wide Awake’ by Katy Perry.

ENJOOYYYYY

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Jinx x Reader: “Wide Awake, With You”

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Jinx’s voice cuts through the silence like a spark in the dark. “Well, well, well. Look who’s hiding in the shadows. Did you think you could escape me?”

You step back, but the sound of her manic laughter stops you. You can hear the familiar clicking of her pistols as she approaches. “You know I don’t like it when people try to sneak away. It’s no fun!”

She steps into the dim light, her electric blue hair wild, eyes wild, too—sparkling with that crazy, mischievous glint.

You try to breathe, but your heart is pounding too loud. “Jinx, I’m not trying to escape. I—”

“Oh, you’re not? Good, ‘cause I’m really good at finding people. Especially people who wanna run,” she interrupts, her voice sharp, but with that childlike tone she always carries, like she’s playing a game. “I don’t mind a little chase, you know?”

You look into her eyes, trying to keep your cool. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, Jinx. It’s just… everything’s so messed up right now.”

She tilts her head, those wide, crazy eyes locking onto yours. She steps closer. “Messed up, huh? You think I don’t know what that feels like?” Her voice drops, and she pauses. “I thought I was the only one who felt this… out of control. But you? You’re wide awake, just like me, aren’t you?”

You’re taken aback by her sudden change in tone. The manic energy is still there, but now there’s a crack in her facade, something raw. You nod slowly. “Yeah… Yeah, I think I am.”

Jinx smirks, stepping even closer until her breath is warm against your ear. “Well, welcome to the party, sugar. When you’re wide awake, there’s no going back, you know? The world’s messed up, and we’re stuck in it.” She twirls her finger through the air, making an exaggerated gesture. “But maybe that’s fun, huh? Maybe it’s just one big game, and we get to play.”

You take a shaky step forward, your hands trembling slightly. “You don’t have to do this alone, Jinx. I’m not running. I can stay with you… through all of it. We don’t have to… fall apart.”

Jinx’s face softens, almost imperceptibly, but then she shakes her head quickly, as if shaking off a thought. “Fall apart? I’m not falling apart. I’m alive, alive!” She laughs, and it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. “I can see everything. It’s like the world is wide open, all these crazy things happening, and I’m wide awake, and I can’t stop it. I can’t stop anything!” Her voice shakes, but then she smiles again. “And you’re right here, so maybe you’ll get a front-row seat to all the fireworks, huh?”

You feel your pulse quicken. “You don’t have to be alone, Jinx. I want to be here. I want to help you. Please, let me help.”

She looks at you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours, like she’s trying to decide if you’re lying, if you really mean it. Finally, she lets out a deep breath and steps back. “I’m not the kind of person people want to help, y’know? I’ve been awake for too long, seen too much, done too much. I’m too far gone.”

You take another step toward her, and this time, your voice is firm, not pleading, but sure. “I don’t believe that. People can change, Jinx. Maybe you’re not beyond saving. Maybe you don’t have to burn everything down to feel alive.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Jinx is staring at you, still grinning, but her smile falters just a little. Then, she reaches out, touching the tip of your nose with one finger, a playful glint returning to her eyes. “You’re funny. Maybe you’re right. But it’s not that easy, y’know?”

“I know.” You reach out, gently taking her hand. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, Jinx.”

Jinx looks down at your hand, then back into your eyes. A flicker of something almost like hope crosses her face, before it’s quickly hidden by her usual chaos. “You’re crazy. But I like crazy.” Her smile turns into a mischievous grin. “You sure you’re ready for the ride?”

You chuckle, the tension easing just a little. “I’ve been ready for a long time.”

Jinx takes your hand and twirls around in a quick, erratic spin, her laughter filling the air like a burst of energy. “Alright, wide awake, huh? Let’s see how long we can stay that way before everything goes boom.”

You laugh, the sound oddly comforting despite everything. “I’m not going anywhere, Jinx. Not until the very end.”

With a sudden burst of energy, Jinx pulls you along with her into the madness of Zaun, the two of you wide awake in a world that’s far from perfect—but maybe, just maybe, there’s hope in the chaos.

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xoxo jackass