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depressopax · 1 month

Note

Hi!!! if it's okay (and if your request is still open) I was wondering if I could request a fluff scenario for Jimmy McGill? :D where he gets all soft and loving sjdjdj can be both sfw and nsfw ... thank you !! ♡

Thank you for the request!!! <3 Been meaning to write about Jimmy for quite a while, so this was the perfect sign to do it lmaooo I was gonna do a NSFW too but realized that the SFW version was at 1K word already 💀 Will do a part 2 tho! Oh well, enjoy these cheesy Jimmy headcanons 🥹🫶

Jimmy McGill relationships headcanons

Fandom - Breaking Bad/Better call Saul

Jimmy x gn!reader || SFW HC's

Pairing: Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman x gender-neutral reader Genre: Fluff, headcanons Warning(s): None that I can think off?? Cuss words maybe, slightly angsty Jimmy lol. Reader is gender-neutral and referred to as "partner" and gn!pet-names. Words: 1.1K Summary: Being in a relationship with Jimmy McGill would include... English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request || NSFW version ||

Jimmy is not good at figuring out his feelings.

That’s why it took him a while to realize he’d fallen in love with you.

It’d take some time for him to accept what he’s feeling though.

Homeboy would be in denial at first. He’s scared to fall in love with someone, in fear of commitment and getting hurt etc…

But he’d show interest in other ways, without realizing it himself.

We’re talking about cheesy stuff: - Always looking good (and that’s not so difficult, HE GORGEOUSSSSS 👀) - Trying to impress you with his knowledge about things - Making sure to say something funny and make others laugh when you’re around, to let you know how funny and amazing he is lol - Compliments and teasing

Noticing his attempt, you straight up ask him about it. “...Do you like me, Jimmy?” “What?? I-” … “Yes. I do.”

Once it’s said and done, he eventually asks you out on a date.

Listen… Jimmy may be overconfident, especially when it comes to his seduction skills

However, there’s something about you that makes him nervous.

What you think about him and how he comes across matters to him.

That’s why he plans a date weeks ahead, trying to make everything perfect

He tries figuring out what you like and dislike so he can use that to make a good impression.

He takes you out to some fancy restaurant (RIP early season Jimmy’s wallet 😭)

The date goes well and he is very smug with his effort.

After a few dates, Jimmy realizes he’s fallen for you.

At first he tries to hide it. He doesn’t want to come across as “desperate” or “needy”.

But then again… He’s not good at hiding his true feelings.

Luckily, you feel the same and eventually you become a couple for real.

He was the first one to say “I love you”, and did so without realizing it.

You were leaving for work or something and he just goes: “Bye, love ya!” Completely flustered when he heard what he just said.

When you say it back, he feels a wave of relief.

After that, he makes sure to say ILY as often as he can.

He won’t shut up about you. Like ever.

“So then my partner said…” “My partner brought me this shirt!” “I’m taking my babe out on a date tonight” And everyone else will eventually be like: 😐”Shut up”😐

He’ll refer to you as his spouse/wife/husband, watching everyone confused “You’re married?” “I will be soon” 🤭

Jimmy’s a sucker for cute pet names. And yeah, some of them are probably “cringe” but that won’t stop him

Baby, Boo, Sugar, Sweetie, Hot stuff, Doll, Kitten (😭)

He loves it when you wear his shirts. Especially as lounge clothing or when sleeping.

Jimmy also finds matching outfits adorable.

Would probably take you shopping for either suits/blazers or just hoodies that you can match.

He also buys matching jewelry, towels, morning robes etc etc… He’s one of those guys 😭

He has a picture of you standing on the desk in his office, as a way to carry the sweetheart with him all the time.

…And also to brag about you to anyone that enters his office (but he puts the picture away when dealing with some of his unpredictable clients, homeboy is overprotective)

Speaking of being overprotective: He deals with a lot of shady people, so he’s very careful with who he chooses to trust when it comes to talking his love to you.

He prioritizes your safety over anything else.

Ofc he’s scared for his own safety too, but pretty much puts it aside to make sure you’re safe first off.

If danger comes up, he’d make sure to find somewhere safe for you to stay whilst he deals with it.

He would go so far as hiring a bodyguard for you tbh.

Being with him might be a struggle too

Homeboy is a bit unpredictable and impulsive

Doing stupid things is his speciality- 😭

No but literally, you’ll sometimes have to stop him from acting out on his weird revenge ideas or stuff that could get him into trouble.

“I was just gonna-” “No.” “But…” “Jimmy, no.”

Sometimes you succeed, sometimes you don’t. But you love him either ways. <3

He also likes talking shit about people with you *cough* probably Howard *cough* - sure, a bit rude - but he finds it hilarious lol

Lot of in-jokes between you and him

Jimmy is a daydreamer and is easily distracted

Especially by you.

He sometimes gets stuck thinking about you when doing boring work.

Until Francesca tells him to pull himself together lmao

Jimmy spends all possible time together with you.

He is ambitious and serious about work, but after you and him became a couple his priorities changed.

He finds time to spend with you. Last thing he wants is for you to feel like he cares more about work than he does for you.

If you’re adventurous and like being outdoors, he does too.

But honestly? He prefers cuddling at home and watching movies with you.

He is not a good chef, so he buys a lot of food from restaurants and brings it home if you’ve had a long day at work.

He makes sure to be a romantic bastard too.

Candlelit dinners, taking baths together, picnics… You name it. He loves spoiling you.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else but hear me out… Home-spa dates 👀

He did use to have his office at a nail salon, so he knows his way around those things

If you allow him to, he likes painting your nails - with him choosing the color

Like I said, Jimmy enjoys cuddling you.

He has a lot of feelings, traumas etc pent up, which he dares to let out around you.

He has learnt that he can be vulnerable with you and not get judged, which he appreciates.

That’s why he loves coming home to you after a long day and simply resting in your arms.

He prefers being the little spoon - to feel protected and loved by you. <3

To summarize: It might take him a while to put the pieces together and actually confess his feelings for you - but once he does he spends every day letting you know how much you mean to him.

I just remembered why I love Jimmy sm AHHH he deserves love and happiness <3<3 Part 2 soon!

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stvrchaser · 4 months

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

( pairing ) : clarisse la rue x fem!reader

( words ) : 2000

( note ) : noticed that clarisse has her nails painted in the show and… well this came out of that. reader is heavily aphrodite coded but i don’t think it’s explicitly mentioned anywhere what cabin she’s actually from? only that she’s not from apollo’s and she’s on clarisse’s side for capture the flag

also don’t we just love that every fic i’ve ever published is literally 80% pining? honestly can’t tell you the last time one of my fics didn’t have a scene that goes on for like three paragraphs about how much admiration reader has for their love interest

oh and happy new year!!

Summer days can last for a lifetime and a fulfilling one at that. There’s so much to be done when the world wakes, engulfed in light and warmth, nurturing possibility. There’s so much to look forward to. But today, that anticipation has chosen to work against you.

The sun is setting now, approaching dinnertime, and Clarisse is nowhere to be found. For all of her spontaneity and occasional recklessness, it’s unlike her to abandon routines. That is, routines she shares with you. And walking to dinner together happens to be one of your longest-running practices.

You tried to ask around, careful not to sound too concerned so as not to spark rumors. See, Clarisse La Rue has never been publicly caught in a state that warrants concern. Clarisse La Rue is untouched by the fears that plague the rest of them. But you know better.

It isn’t until you come across a few Ares kids, very obviously overworked and looking nearly faint with exhaustion, that you come to your senses. It isn’t infrequent that Cabin 5 becomes victim to one of Clarisse’s drills, training until fatigue overpowers their fear of her authority. As predicted, you find her in a clear patch of the forest overlooking the strawberry fields. Some days she likes to train here, away from watchful eyes.

The setting sun casts her in golden light, bronze armor glistening alongside golden skin. Clarisse liked to train in full gear — a fruitful habit to get herself accustomed to the added weight of leather and metal. It allows her to move with ease, swinging her spear with grace despite the strength of her whole body being evident in every step. With her head held high, spear raised, and the incredible speed at which she moves, she doesn’t look even the slightest bit mortal, but rather a god amongst men. A warrior and hunter. She is the perfect picture of divinity if you’ve ever seen it.

You let your feet drag against the dirt, a fallen branch snapping beneath your weight. It informs Clarisse of your presence from a safe distance, although the remnants of her focused state aren’t any less intimidating. Her eyes burn bright like the electricity that charges the tip of her spear.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Clarisse realizes her error with a glance at the horizon where the sun is setting and you smile warmly, dismissing any indication of displeasure. You watch her demeanor change, the rigidity in her posture fading with an apologetic tip of her head.

“I’ve been training. Those idiots would know that if they’d stuck around to join me.” Something tells you that that isn’t entirely true. Anyone could assume that she’d been training, but the matter of where was an entirely different question. As far as you know, this particular spot is something only the two of you are familiar with — a small refuge away from everyone else.

“Well, we don’t all have your… passion for these things.”

“You think I’m ridiculous,” she says with a sigh.

“Babe, you’re training for capture the flag. Not war.” Clarisse only shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in arguing. She thinks this is something the two of you might never see eye-to-eye on. While you like your fair bit of competition, Clarisse takes every victory with great significance. As she does with every loss.

“Here, I’ll help you,” you say, approaching to tuck a stray curl behind her ears. Your touch lingers at her cheeks, flushed from physical exertion and maybe something more by the way her gaze settles on your lips. Every intake of breath is louder now that you stand toe to toe and the adrenaline has started to wear off. She’s too worked up to have done this all for a game of capture the flag. “I hope you’re not doing all this to get back at Percy.” Her eyes still linger on your mouth and you think she might’ve not heard you until her brows furrow in confusion.

“Since when are you on a first-name basis?”

“Oh, come on,” you say with a disapproving shake of your head. “He’s just a kid.” You reach for the leather chord at the edge of her breastplate, undoing the knot with ease.

“He’s full of it.” She refuses to look at you now, her head turned upward as if she’d developed a sudden interest in trees. You can’t tell if she’s trying to maintain her composure to keep herself from saying something she’ll regret or if your gaze and proximity was distracting her from the discussion. Maybe a bit of both.

“He’s a baby. You could body-slam him into next Friday. It’s hardly a fair fight.” You untie the last knot keeping her breastplate in place, tugging upward to slip it over her head. Clarisse doesn’t even seem to realize that you’d freed her of her armor until the weight vanished from her body.

She looks at you then with an expression you can’t quite read. Something warm, like gratitude, but reluctant. When she speaks, it’s unexpectedly solemn.

“Do you really believe he killed The Minotaur? Him? Gods, everyone here trains themselves to death for that kind of stuff and he gets all the glory? He doesn’t even know how to shoot.” Now that you’ve been made aware of the gravity of the situation, it’s suddenly harder to find your words. This isn’t the petty rivalry you’d assumed it was, and you had to handle it as such.

“Well, I’m sure a few things have been exaggerated here and there, but that’s not his fault. People love to talk about him, but nobody’s really talking to him. I don’t think he’s had a say in anything that’s been said about him. You know how rumors spread around here.”

“But he’s—”

“Look,” you start, taking her hands into yours. “I’m not asking you to make him friendship bracelets. Just… try not to drown him in the lake, okay?”

You know the exact moment an idea hits her by the mischievous glimmer in her eye. It takes a lot of strength not to bury your face in your hands, afraid that you’ve now planted an idea that would get the poor boy killed. Or worse.

“Clarisse, please.” She surrenders, albeit reluctantly.

“Fine,” she says. Still, you’re not entirely convinced.

“Good. Now say it.”

“What?”

“Say you won’t drown him in the lake.” Clarisse laughs, but it dies down when she realizes you don’t plan to join her.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not.”

“I swear not to drown Percy Jackson in the lake,” she agrees through gritted teeth. You don’t say anything about the way her hands tighten around yours as if it physically pained her to say the words.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you tell her, ignoring that it did, in fact, seem hard. “Now, what are we gonna do with those nails?” Clarisse stares blankly at your joined hands. Chipped black nail polish alongside your perfectly pristine, perfectly preserved set of nails.

“Why do we need to do anything about my nails?”

“Honey, I painted these like two days ago. What do you even do to get them chipped like this? I mean, are you fighting with the back of your hand? I don’t understand.”

“I have to train, you know?” she says, like it’s meant to explain anything. You know better than to ask her to elaborate.

“Shame. You have very pretty nail beds. You should spend less time fighting puppy dog-eyed middle schoolers so you can actually keep them pretty.”

“You think I have pretty nail beds?” You shrug.

“Among other things.”

“Well, tell me about these other things.”

“Hm, and people think I’m vain.”

“Come on. What other things?”

You take a moment to look at her — to really look at her. To dissect every inch of her face and the features that create the picture of beauty you know and love. There are far too many pretty things to point out, but you find yourself drawn to one in particular.

“You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Well, thank you.”

“Shut up. I’m not finished.”

“Of course. Don’t let me stop you.”

“And you have the most gorgeous smile.” Clarisse beams with pride. “Yeah, that one. And it doesn’t even matter if it looks like you’re just about ready to tear someone’s throat out with your teeth. I just like to see you happy. I like hearing you laugh even better.”

And laugh she does. Low but sweet, like honey. She looks like the teenage girl she is, deeply infatuated and with a capacity for love she has only ever shared with you.

You indulge in the temporary amusement it brings you to think of how horrified Clarisse might be if anyone else were around to hear her giggle. Clarisse La Rue, Daughter of Ares, infamous for waging war on whichever unfortunate soul so much as breathes in her direction — producing a laugh so gentle and beautiful it could give Orpheus and his songs a run for his money. And you might be the happiest girl alive to have been the cause of it.

“You’re sure you’re not Apollo’s kid?”

“Are you calling me a talented poet?”

“I’m calling you a sap,” Clarisse insists with a sour expression, but her voice is saturated with mirth, eyes too bright, and you know she isn’t entirely opposed to your antics.

“I think the term you’re looking for is romantic.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes.

“I know I’m right, but thank you for the confirmation.”

“I know the nail polish fumes are getting to your head,” she mocks. You feign defeat, retreating with an exaggerated sigh.

“Maybe.” Two steps to your left and you’re concealed by a tree, its trunk twice as wide as either of you. You peak your head, locking eyes with Clarisse. “Or all that training is slowing you down. Honestly! If you’re gonna try to insult me, at least try to come up with something original.”

“Oh, you think I’m slow?” Clarisse asks, every word a thinly veiled threat — a challenge, and one you’re willing to accept.

“Unless you want to prove me wrong.” Clarisse lunges at you without warning, almost too fast, but you’re able to gather your senses. The tree had bought you just enough time to keep her whole body from slamming into yours, the force of it undoubtedly capable of launching you both to the ground.

You dash through the woods as fast as your legs can carry you, your only advantage being that Clarisse must have tired herself out from training. But you know she’s hot on your trail.

From here, you can see the bonfire, flames burning high. You turn, prepared to declare that your victory is just seconds away. You’re tackled to the floor before a word can leave your mouth.

“Oh, come on! That’s not fair, I was distracted!”

“Distracted by what?” Clarisse laughs hysterically although taking a much more graceful tumble to the floor than you had. She’s covered in fallen leaves and her jeans are brown at the knees where the denim fades.

“The pretty girl chasing me.” Clarisse is beside herself with joy, clutching at her stomach and close to tears, and it takes her a minute to calm herself. When the two of you have settled, she speaks again. Or tries to, that is.

“Oh, you are so—“ You place a kiss on her lips, short and sweet, but enough to leave her speechless. Clarisse turns a violent shade of red and you think she might need another minute to calm herself. You take that time to revel in your victory.

You stand, offering your hand to help her up.

“Come on, let’s get dinner and you can rest for the game tomorrow. If you’re gonna lead us to victory, you’re gonna need your strength, captain.” She smiles, intertwining her hand with yours.

“You’re gonna be there? Right beside me?”

“La Rue, you’re crazy if you think there’s even a chance I’d ever leave your side.”

•°. *࿐

reader: pls don’t drown percy in the lake

clarisse: ok fine

clarisse: *tries to drown percy*

reader: what did i say about drowning people??

clarisse: …

clarisse: you never said the toilets were off-limits

also i'm like brand new to the pjo fandom but i’ve been kindly informed of clarisse x silena (and their tragic ending but i turn a blind eye to that so i can preserve my sanity) but when i get there you WILL need to physically restrain me from writing fics about them

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjotv x reader #pjo tv adaptation #pjo tv series #clarisse la rue fluff #pining #but they’re already dating #they’re just horrendously down bad for each other and it’s kind of embarrassing #x reader #healthy bit of banter #and trying to convince clarisse to let percy live to see another day #breaking news: summer camp gets awkward when ur gf has beef w the middle schooler #you can’t say she didn’t try to help him ok

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pumpkin-patch-cat · 4 months

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I'm in love with how much hair Satan has. It's like a fluffy stuffed animal on his head.

Imma hug it :|

#it probably gets matted a lot #the man breaks brushes #thick mass of fluff #♡#whb #whb satan #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad?

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cappincooks · 2 years

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𝗺𝗶𝗱𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝘀𝗻𝗮𝗰𝗸.

pairing: jesse pinkman x gender-neutral reader

type: fluff

overview: you were woken up by jesse forgetting to stop the microwave timer before it goes off at 2 am.

you felt shifting from across the bed you shared with jesse. it felt like he was careful and intentionally being gentle to not wake you up. though this wasn't different from any other night. he usually gets up in the middle of the night to take a leak, so you drift back to sleep.

"ah shit shit shit shit, fuck-"

you hear jesse screaming in lowercase letters from the kitchen, it was filled with the sound of your microwave beeping. shifting your heavy eyes from the ceiling, you check the time on your bedside clock: 2:03 am.

sighing, you decided to sit yourself up on your bed and checked up on him. "...jess?"

"uh yeah yeah, sorry. i forgot to turn the damn thing off in time." you hear him pushing some buttons. "i got hungry. wanna eat with me?"

you were dozing off while he was explaining the commotion, to your defense you did get woken up abruptly a few hours earlier than you were supposed to.

hearing only silence, jesse poked his head in your bedroom and saw you were sleeping. he quietly approached your side and covered you in your blanket, which woke you up.

"huh? oh yeah, i could join you. sorry i dozed off, just tired is all."

"nah, you could sleep in if you want to." he tenderly touched your cheek. his eyes were piercing enough to make you feel giddy like you were finally talking to your high school crush, but soft enough to let you know everything would be okay.

you put your hand on top of his, which was resting on your cheek. "it's fine, i kinda got hungry too." you kiss his hand before you stood up from the bed to enter the dimly lit kitchen.

"what'd you make anyway?"

"uhh, poptarts."

"didn't grab your good 'ol funyuns?" you looked back in his direction, quietly giggling.

"oh i would if i could yo, but we ran out of those a few days ago, like zero. but i could make you eggs if you want?" you could hear jesse's quiet footsteps from behind you.

"my boyfriend? cooking? in what world?" you giggled as you leaned on his kitchen island as you fixate your sight on him approaching you with a smirk.

there was no light turned on in the kitchen, just the natural light coming from the moon slithering in through his window blinds was shining on his face. it was enough for you to adore him.

as he was approaching you, his eyes never left yours. his arms found their way to your waist like it was second nature to him already. you do the same thing to him, hopefully, you make him feel loved as he does with you.

"i can cook." his voice raspy, he smirks. his face inches away from yours, he playfully rubs his nose against your own.

"mhm. sure you can." you sleepily replied.

"yeah i can. if it's for you, i can do anything."

you felt a ticklish feeling in your stomach. you were always like this whenever you were with jesse. he just makes you feel amazing, special, loved. you don't know how he does it.

you figured jesse wouldn't notice your overly blushing face in the dark, but he apparently did.

"cute." he remarks.

you rub his cheek, "what is?"

"you're blushing." he chuckles.

"shut up pinkman." you gently pushed him away as you laughed, embarrassed.

he smoothly picks himself up from your push and picked up a pan. hopefully it was clean? both of you hate doing the dishes.

"pinkman," he stopped in his tracks, fixating on the frying pan. "it suits you." he says nonchalantly while grabbing some eggs from the fridge.

you were an even bigger blushing mess now. what did he mean by that? like, did he mean marrying you? or was it something random?

he looks over his shoulder, chuckling when he noticed you were silent. "relax, babe. your face was just really pink earlier so. pinkman. get it?"

"oh," you laughed the embarrassment off.

"one day though." he winks at you as he started frying up some eggs.

#jesse pinkman fluff #breaking bad #breaking bad jesse #jesse pinkman #breaking bad jesse fluff #jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman fanfic #breaking bad jesse fanfic #breking bad jesse pinkman fanfic #jesse pinkman oneshot #breaking bad oneshot #breaking bad jesse pinkman oneshot #cappincooks

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genocidehim · 1 year

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Imagine if you were a maid at Don Eladio’s and Lalo saw you and became obsessed with you

notes: reader is female, I wore out my only two brain cells thinking about this. words: 404

I apologize if I did not understand the request correctly. I wasn't sure if you were referring to the escort girls who usually attend Eladio's parties or to a housemaid ;; I assumed it was the latter, so I apologize if that's not what you had in mind. (my reading comprehension is very poor)

When you entered his field of vision, you almost left him speechless. The way Lalo stopped paying attention to everything around him when he noticed you was blatant.

Don Eladio called for one of his maids to bring some liquor while Lalo and he gathered near the pool. It wasn't a special meeting with the Cartel Capos or anything like that, just a private conversation between the two of them to discuss Hector's health.

When Lalo saw you arrive with the Hennessy in your small hands, he almost felt personally attacked. Your gaze didn't bother much to look at him, you seemed very focused on your job as you served two glasses of liquor and left the bottle on the table, saying goodbye to both before returning to the house in the same way you arrived.

It was a very brief encounter, but it was enough to fuel his accelerated imagination.

He noticed how attractive and young you were to be just a maid. He even found it strange that you weren't one of those escort girls who used to attend Don Eladio's parties. Just a maid wearing a simple uniform, but the way your legs stood out and how the uniform still struggled to show the shape of your body was enough to let him know that you were attractive underneath that clothing. Lalo wondered if you were just as professional as you had shown in those few minutes. Hearing your voice made him imagine how sweet it would feel to hear you say his name, or even how it would feel to have your beautiful eyes on him.

Your brief presence was enough to slowly obsess him.

From that day on, he made sure to keep an eye on you all the time. Even when he attended Don Eladio's parties, he still kept his gaze on you despite having many beautiful girls around him.

He saw you as a challenge, something he had to get.

He didn't care if you were just a maid in his boss's house. He saw something more, and his intuition never failed him.

He would always find an excuse to have you close, no matter how small it was. He always asked you to bring him water, even insisted that you call him 'Lalo' despite your insistence on calling him "Don Eduardo". He loved how submissive you could be, and that only increased his obsession with you.

#lalo salamanca #lalo salamanca x reader #better call saul x reader #breaking bad x reader #eduardo salamanca #lalo salamanca fluff #lalo salamanca fanfic #lalo x reader #bcs x reader #salamanca x reader #one short #lalo salamanca imagine

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ichorai · 1 year

Text

sunlight ; jesse pinkman.

track thirteen of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; jesse pinkman x gn!reader

synopsis ; yellow was not a color he often saw in alaska. that was, until you came into his life.

words ; 4.2k

themes ; fluff, angst, slice of life, writer au

warnings / includes ; breaking bad & el camino spoilers, mentions of death/walter/drugs/the nazi group that imprisoned him, jesse is just Traumatized, reader is a sweetheart, jesse befriends a Cat <3

main masterlist.

The color yellow often resurfaced bad memories of his past. Yellow were the hazmat suits he wore with Walt when they cooked meth. Yellow were Jane’s bed sheets when she overdosed right next to him. Yellow were the broiling sands of New Mexico—a place he once called home.

Now that he was in Alaska, yellow was a color he scarcely ever saw. And for that he was glad. Mostly, it was white. With snow—with clouds. Maybe a dash of brown and grey here and there, alongside the occasional green once in a while.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

After everything, a bit of peace was all that Jesse needed.

That is, until you came along.

The first time he met you, you were decked out in an array of soft canary-hued clothes, certainly a sight that he wasn’t expecting at all. You were smiling brightly, so wide that it was a wonder your face hadn’t split into two. There was a basket in your hands, which held nothing other than around a dozen ripe lemons.

“Urm, hello?” Jesse hesitantly greeted, opening the door wider.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. Sorry for dropping by all of a sudden—I live around five minutes away, and there’s barely anybody that lives near me other than grouchy old Bob, so when I found out someone had moved into this shabby little cabin, I just couldn’t help but stop by! Here, I got you a little house-warming gift. I hope you like lemons!” You held the basket out to him, still beaming ever so kindly.

Awkward, Jesse took the lemons from you, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, thanks. I’m Jared. Jared Driscoll.”

“Well, it’s really nice to meet you, Jared. Hope it’s not weird for me to say that it’s great to see a young face around,” you told him, rocking back on your heels. “Most people living around here are over sixty.”

Memories of Walter, Saul, and Mike flashed in the back of his mind, and he could nearly feel the physical pressure weighing down on his chest. He squared his jaw and pushed the thoughts away.

“Yeah,” replied Jesse, nodding. “Thanks again, for, uhm, these.”

He was just about to shut the door again, mentally smacking himself for being so tongue-tied, before you gently asked, “If you’re not doing anything tonight, I’d love to have you over for dinner. No pressure, though, I’d totally understand if you’d want to settle in first.”

No, was right on the tip of his tongue. No thanks, I’m a little busy with unpacking my stuff. I mean, I don’t have any stuff, but you don’t need to know that.

But the words caught in his throat. You looked so hopeful, your hands clasped behind you and your eyes wide with excitement. You were still smiling—how were you still smiling? His eyes darted down to your yellow cardigan rustling with the frigid Alaskan wind.

“Uhm, alright,” he replied, shooting you a tight smile that came off more like an uncomfortable grimace than anything, but at least he was trying.

Somehow, you seemed to brighten even more at his response.

“Cool, is seven okay with you? I still need to clean up a bit before dinner.”

Jesse nodded wordlessly, a strange, giddy warmth pooling into his abdomen—a feeling he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time. It was excitement. Jesse couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely been excited for something.

“Alright, to get to my place, you just walk up the main road for a while, until you see a fork in the road—take a right, and walk for a bit, then you’ll see my house. In case you wanna make sure it’s my place, the mailbox has a pink handprint on it, but I doubt you’ll get confused—it’s not a very crowded neighborhood, huh?”

Jesse thanked you again as you left, smiling at you—genuinely, this time.

Two packs of crushed crackers were gripped within one of his hands. It was all he had in his pantry, and he didn’t know what the etiquette was like around here, so he brought them just to be safe.

There was a lot of yellow to your house. He caught sight of the lemon tree in the corner of your living room, situated right against a window for optimum sunlight. You had a pale yellow carpet beneath the dining table, and sheer curtains hanging over the window of the same shade. You even had a little white cat, who had wound around Jesse’s legs with a mewl, staring up at him with large amber eyes.

You apologized profusely, bending down to pick her up. “Sorry, she’s not usually this friendly around strangers. This is Yuki—means snow in Japanese.”

A smile itched at the corner of his lips. “No worries. I’m cool with cats. I, uh, I like her name.”

Seemingly relieved, you put Yuki back down, and ushered him to the table. In the center was a clear vase, holding a variety of ochre and purple wildflowers.

“Hope you’re alright with spaghetti—I’m not that great of a cook, but I make a mean spaghetti,” you said, grinning as you disappeared into the kitchen to brandish a large bowl of pasta. His stomach growled at the smell of marinara sauce—he couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent bowl of warm, homemade food.

“No, yeah, that’s great,” he reassured. Silence stretched between the two of you as you began to ladle heapfuls of the noodles onto his plate, making sure to add a generous helping of meatballs with it. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “I haven’t had the chance to thank you, so… thanks.”

You grinned at him kindly, before sitting right across from him. “It’s no problem, I promise. To be honest, it gets really lonely here sometimes. I’m glad you moved in.”

Jesse could only give you a small smile in return, before digging into his food. It was better than anything he’d had in months, though it wasn’t much of a competition. The past few weeks had been nothing but stale sandwiches and tough jerky that wore out his jaw.

“This is really good,” he said around a mouthful of pasta, forgetting his tableside manners for a moment. You didn’t seem to mind, only beaming all the brighter.

“I’m glad! Wish I could grow my own fresh tomatoes to make the sauce with but—it’s almost always freezing cold here,” you chuckled lightly. You twirled some pasta over your fork. “Which is why I grow lemon trees—they can withstand the cold pretty well.”

“How long have you been living here?” asked Jesse, finding himself genuinely curious about you.

You hummed in thought. “Four years ago, I think. I just needed some peace and quiet—and where better than Alaska, you know? I’m a writer, see, and I used to think that I had to live in a bustling city to make connections and meet more people in the industry to be successful but… I don’t know, I think a part of me always felt trapped in a corner. I feel free here.”

“Yeah,” replied Jesse, distant. “I get that. So, uh, you’re a writer, huh? What do you write?”

“Short stories, mostly. Sometimes I dabble in longer novels, and sometimes I’ll dip my toe into nonfiction. Depends on what my publishers want from me and also what I personally want to write,” you said, before taking a sip of water. Blanching, you quickly added, “Oh, I’m so sorry, you’re my guest and I haven’t even asked a single thing about you. What about you? What’re you doing up in the middle of nowhere, Alaska, Jared?”

The new name felt so foreign—so strange coming from you. He wondered how it’d sound if you said his real name. Jesse.

At your question, a myriad of memories flashed into the front of his thoughts once more. Mike, Walt, Jane, Badger, Skinny Pete, the meth, the drugs, his parents…

He pursed his lips.

Sensing he was a bit uncomfortable, he was surprised when you only nodded in gentle understanding, quietly saying, “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. We all have our reasons.”

The reassuring smile that quirked the corner of your lips upward made his heart just a little heavier. You were just so… nice. It was a bit baffling. An extremely stark comparison to his time kept prisoner by the group of Nazis.

“You got space for dessert?” you queried, tilting your head in the most adorable of ways, snapping him out of his reverie just when the atmosphere began returning back to its original light-hearted state. “I made lemon pie!”

It took him a little under a month to fully settle in. His house was still sparse and relatively empty, but he’d bought a nice new couch to lay back on and a frumpy little lamp he had gotten for free at an antique store. The old lady that worked there had pinched his cheeks and given it to him for free, despite the crumpled bills he was just about to hand over.

She told him that she reminded her of her grandson, and insisted on giving it to him for no charge. Acquiescing, Jesse took it home with him. Who was he to turn down something free, anyway?

He’d gotten himself a job as a carpenter, building together new little cabins not far from where he lived for adventuring tourists or more old couples that would inevitably migrate here in search of some peace and quiet. Most of his free time was spent dillying in his house, reading random books he’d borrow from the musty little library in the small town (he was pleasantly surprised to find a collection of your works on one shelf)—or he’d find himself at your house, playing Scrabble with you, or listening to you ramble about your day, or babysitting your cat when you had to go off to meet with your publisher.

It was safe to say that he’d grown rather fond of you.

And that scared him. Rightfully so—the last two times he’d genuinely cared about someone… he’d lost both of them.

But that was in the past now. Jesse was trying to move forward. With you by his side, hopefully.

One of the benefits of being a carpenter was that he had a nearly infinite supply of spare wood on his hands. He’d been meaning to make you a little thank you gift for how nice you’d been to him his first few weeks in Alaska. He certainly hadn’t been expecting any sort of hospitality whatsoever before he’d arrived.

And so Jesse built you a little birdhouse. It was relatively small and admittedly not his most skillful craft, but he thought it wasn’t too shabby. He’d even stopped by a hardware store to grab some paint, and added a thin coat of light yellow to the outside of the birdhouse. The roof was colored a sweet shade of pink—he’d meant to color it red, but the crimson had accidentally mixed into the white on his brush, and he decided that the pink would look better, anyways.

The day after, he was on your doorstep, ringing the bell with an excited flutter to his stomach, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You swung the door open, smiling upon seeing him. He interestingly noted that you were wearing large yellow overalls, hair tied away from your face. You looked so darned cute—it made him clam up for a second and forget what he’d come here for.

“Hey!” you greeted, stepping to the side so he could amble in. “It’s nice to see you, I was literally just about to call you to ask if you wanted to watch a movie tonight, or something—ooh, whatcha got there?” Your eyes widened as you looked at the little wooden house cradled in his palms.

“It’s for you,” said Jesse, holding it out. “It’s a, uhm, a birdhouse.”

Your expression melted into one of pure affection, and you grinned impossibly wider, before surging forward and throwing your arms around him in a quick hug. Before he could even begin to think about reciprocating the embrace, you were already pulling away, holding the birdhouse up to eye-level to observe it closer. “Oh, my God, Jared, this is gorgeous—I can’t thank you enough. Did you make it yourself?”

Chuckling nervously, Jesse nodded an affirmative, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “It was nothing, really. Just had some scrap wood.”

“I love it,” you told him. The words made warmth coil about the bones of his ribs, spreading down to the tips of his fingers and crawling up the skin of his neck. “Nobody’s ever made me something like that before! You’re really too sweet, Jared. I’ll hang it outside in a bit.”

Carefully, you placed the little house on your table. A quiet meow roped both of your attentions lower, where Yuki was winding between both of your legs, tail curled around Jesse’s shins. He bent down to gently scratch beneath her chin, earning him a contented purr.

The three of you made your way to the couches, and you ushered Jesse to sit down, after you rushed to go pour him a steaming cup of coffee.

“It’s freezing out,” you told him, curling up beside the man and handing him the mug, before taking a sip from your own. Yuki made herself comfortable between the two of you, tucking her nose behind her tail and shutting her eyes for a nap. “Hopefully you can stay and defrost for a bit before heading back out?”

He hummed, appreciative of the idea. Being with you was… comforting, to say the least. It was peaceful, and quiet, and made his heart ache like nothing else. Dare he say—domestic. It reminded him of his short-cut time with Jane.

At the thought of her, thorns pierced through his lungs and he forced his gaze away from you. He caught sight of a small pile of papers on your coffee table, and he leaned forward to pick one up. You fiddled with the mug in your hands, nervous.

“Oh, wow, is this what you’ve been writing?” His eyes swept along the first few lines, finding himself utterly impressed. “Yo, this is, like, really damn good.”

“Really?” you asked, sitting up straighter, a hopeful look to your expression. “I’ve been in a weird word-vomit mood lately—ever since I met you, I just haven’t been able to stop.”

Jesse risked a glance to you, muffling a smile. “I may not know much about writing but this is… next level, dude. It’s like I can see it all in my head. Like a movie but with… words?”

“Gosh, Jared, you really know how to compliment someone,” you lightly scoffed, hiding your beam behind your mug. “You can keep that copy if you want. Here—” Shifting to brandish a pen from your pocket, you signed his name right under your printed one.

Jesse peered over to look, the smile cracking through his exterior.

For Jared Driscoll.

“You know what’s funny,” you murmured, eyes glued to his fake name on the paper. “You’ve never really pegged me as a Jared Driscoll.”

For a long moment, Jesse could’ve sworn his heart stopped in his chest. “Oh, yeah? Why, uh… why’s that?”

You shot him a glance, before smiling sweetly, handing him the papers back for him to keep. “I don’t really know—it just doesn’t suit you, I guess. Jared Driscoll sounds so—rough’n’tough, you know? You don’t strike me as the rough’n’tough kind of guy. You’re too sweet for that.” You shrugged, sinking further into the couch and running the tips of your fingers along Yuki’s back.

Jesse stared at you for a moment longer. Your words brought a certain kind of comfort to him that he never knew he needed. The affirmation that he was still a good person in your eyes—it meant more to him than he thought it would.

“Thanks,” he said, hesitant, though he gently quirked the corner of his lips into a mild grin. He sipped his warm coffee before adding on, “I think you’re sweet, too.”

“You never told me when your birthday was,” you told him, an accusing lilt to your words. Jesse’s brows rose. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, having just woken up no less than three minutes ago to the door ringing.

Wordlessly, he swung his door open wider so you had space to shuffle in, still glaring at him.

“It’s been a year since you moved in,” you carried on. There was a slight pouty pucker to your lips, face creased into a frown. Jesse thought you were too damned cute to take your annoyance too seriously. “And we haven’t celebrated your birthday once!”

“Bah, it’s not a big deal,” he finally said, yawning behind a fist and waving your words away.

Your little frown deepened. “Well, I’m sorry I missed it,” you softly said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “But I got you something anyway.”

From out of seemingly nowhere, you brandished a large brown paper bag, dangling it in front of him on the tips of your fingers. When he narrowed his blue eyes and suspiciously darted his gaze between you and the bag, you huffed out a small laugh, jerking your chin towards the gift. “Go on—open it!”

The bag crinkled loudly beneath his grip as he took it from you. With one last questioning look to you, he turned it over, and out fell a large yellow hoodie, cloud-soft in his palms. It looked like it was the exact right size for him, and he sent you an incredulous glance.

“This is sick, Y/N, thanks,” he said, a genuine beam itching at his mouth. “Perfect size—and it’s yellow, too!”

For a moment, you looked a bit unsure. “If you don’t like the color, I can always switch it out—it’s just, you’re always wearing neutrals, I thought it’d be nice to give you something colored.”

Jesse looked to the hoodie, then back at you.

Sure, yellow brought back bad memories. Far too many, and not nearly distant enough in his past.

But yellow was your color—and he rather liked how it looked on you.

“Nah,” he said, patting your shoulder once, then twice, “I like it, really. I like it a lot.”

Two years in Alaska meant nearly two years with you.

You’d become the one constant in his life—one that he wouldn’t mind being around for the rest of it, as well.

The two of you were sitting side by side on a frosty hill, watching the sun set. A breathtaking mirage of clementines and peaches bled through the sky just when the sun dipped slowly beneath the horizon. A faint, cold wind tousled your hair, rustling the blades of grass around you. It was meant to be a celebratory picnic of sorts, but the two of you decided it was too cold to eat out, and opted to just sit and relax for a bit before heading back inside and having dinner. Wordlessly, you handed him a pack of chips from the little basket you’d brought for the failed picnic, and he wrestled it open, popping one into his mouth. Simultaneously, you bit down on a crisp apple, wiping the spurting juices away with the back of your hand.

“I can’t believe it’s been two years,” said Jesse, mindlessly tracing shapes into the cold grass. “Time flies, huh?”

You hummed in agreement. “It does.”

Jesse turned to look at you, watching the side of your face relax along with the disappearance of the sun. The last few moments of golden sunlight bathed you in a gentle glow and drew the most beautiful of shadows across your features. You brushed some stray hairs out of your face, the sleeve of your oversized flaxen sweater swallowing your arm. He really couldn’t deny himself anymore—he was completely and utterly in love with you.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said. He wanted to tell you the truth. Obviously not all of it—not all at once—but he wanted you to know. Jesse trusted you more than anyone else in his entire life. Maybe that made him an idiot, but… he was willing to risk the chance with you.

Curious, you tilted your head questioningly, laying your hands and face against your raised knees. The very edge of your shoulder brushed against his arm. You raised your eyebrows expectantly.

“You were right,” he finally said.

“Right about what?” You were starting to look mildly concerned.

Jesse inhaled deeply. “Jared Driscoll doesn’t suit me at all because… it’s not my real name.”

Surprise flooded your expression, but not too much of it—as if you’d always had an inkling all along.

“So what’s your real name?” you asked, all gentle, slightly afraid. Afraid that you’d lose him after so long—after getting attached.

“Jesse Pinkman,” he responded, tearing his gaze away from you, not sure if he wanted to see your reaction. “My middle name is Bruce.”

To his complete surprise, you let out a sudden laugh, before clamping your hands to your mouth. He snapped his head back to look at you, a contagious, incredulous grin touching the corner of his lips.

“Bruce like Batman?” you asked, slightly muffled behind your palms. He nodded, and you let out another chortling laugh. Relief wove through the very fibers of his muscles at your relaxed disposition. You smiled at him, all soft and glowing. It made Jesse’s stomach knot together uncomfortably. “I think it suits you. Much more than Jared Driscoll.”

You tested his name out, enunciating different syllables in various ways, your grin growing nearly double its size.

“Jesse Pinkman. Jesse Pinkman. Jesse Pinkman. Jesse Pinkman—”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jesse snorted, grabbing the apple in your hand and gently pushing it back into your mouth. With a halfhearted glare, you bit down into it anyway.

Around a mouthful of apple, you told him, “You have a pretty name.” You swallowed down the apple and quietly asked him, “Why are you using a fake one?”

Jesse hesitated, directing his gaze to the ground. His smile melted away. “Maybe that’s a story for another time.”

Bobbing your head in understanding, you smiled at him, still so very genuine it made his heart ache.

“Since we’re sharing secrets… well, mine isn’t exactly a secret, but I didn’t move to Alaska for the peace and quiet. I mean, I did, but that wasn’t really the reason why I left the city.” You cleared your throat, eyes getting slightly misty. “I lost my best friend in a car crash while she was on call with me seven years ago. A part of me will always think that it’s my fault that she died. So I moved to Alaska to get away from everything. From the city, and all those cars… and all the people. It was really hard being here at first. It was cold, and lonely, and sometimes just plain old boring. But honestly?” You tentatively reached over to place your palm over his. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

The sun was long gone by now, and Jesse found himself missing how you looked in its soft yellow glow.

“Best decision both of us made,” he murmured, nodding. Jesse quite liked the feeling of your hand on top of his. “I came to Alaska because I, uh… I lost everyone. Everything.”

You smiled—all soft and devastating. He could feel a part of his heart crumbling into a heap of sand within his chest. Nimbly, he turned his palm over to intertwine your fingers with his cold ones.

“Well, you haven’t lost me, Jesse,” you told him, so quiet that it was nearly lost to the breeze.

Jesse wanted to cry at those words. He blinked away the stinging feeling at the top of his nose, and could only muster a grateful, teary nod.

“I, uhm, I’ve only been in love twice before in my life,” he whispered to you, swallowing the lump in his throat. “And both times, they died while I was right there—helpless. I’ve healed and I’m moving on, but, uh… I’m terrified of losing you the way I lost them, Y/N.”

Shifting, you turned so you could fully face him, now clasping both hands onto his right one. Firmly, you repeated yourself, “You haven’t lost me, Jesse. You won’t. Whatever hurt you back in New Mexico is long gone now. The past is far behind you. You have a fresh start. And I’ll be there with you—every step of the way.”

There wasn’t much yellow in Alaska, and for that he’d been grateful.

But maybe… maybe yellow wasn’t so bad.

After all, yellow was your color—and it looked beautiful on you.

#jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman fanfiction #jesse pinkman fluff #jesse pinkman angst #jesse pinkman imagines #jesse pinkman fanfic #jesse pinkman drabbles #jesse pinkman x you #breaking bad fanfiction #jesse pinkman oneshot #jesse pinkman imagine

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sardonic-the-writer · 1 year

Note

can you do anything with jesse being happy please? i'm in pain and i want him to be happy. maybe winter hcs or domestic hcs like doing chores or shopping with him?

• Jesse really hoped no one had a camera lying around right now

• It had taken a whole two hours of you pleading and bribing him to end up where the both of you are now

• Sitting on the floor of his little flat, bows and braids sticking out from Jesse's hair, the both of you withholding very different emotions about the situation you had found yourselves in

• Every now and then when you would go to braid another peice of hair while Jesse flipped through t.v channels, you would accidently pull too hard. Resulting in a loud "yo! bitch!!"

• A grumpy frown stayed on his face the entire time but you knew better than to let him make you think he wasn't enjoying it. You'd come to learn throughout your years as close friends that he enjoyed people playing with his hair. If Jesse considered you close enough to even let you do that of course

• But just because he was enjoying it didn't mean that he wouldn't be difficult. Per usual

A grunt slipped from your lips as Jesse elbowed you in the ribs for the third time that hour. A nice bruise was probably already forming, something you'd complain about later.

In return you had settled for smacking him on the top of the head, snorting at the way he whined at the harsh contact.

"Sit still asshole. If Badger could do it you can too." You huffed. Your hands looped another peice of hair around another, grabbing a rubber band from the pile of colorful ones behind you to tie the thing off.

"He let you braid his hair?" Jesse asked curiously as you snapped the thing in place.

"Yeah. And let me do it without calling me a bitch." You stuck your tounge out at Jesse as he turned to look at you, resulting in a playful punch to the arm. You would have faked being wounded if your fingers were busy mussing up Jesse's hair evily.

"And don't act like you're not having fun anyways. A day off from work and that fucking bastard Walter White so you can watch t.v and eat junk food? A few messy knots is hardly an unfair price to pay." The words flowed from you in a matter of fact manor. Jesse simply rolled his eyes with a barely concealed smile. He knew you were right after all. He just found it fun to poke fun at you.

"Alright alright yo, stop guilt tripping me. But promise you'll let me do your hair after this. Otherwise I'm taking this all out right now. Bitch." His hands fiddled with the graphic tee he was wearing while you contemplatd the offer. Picking at the image that had been ironed onto the front. It was just a few flecks of white and red now, but had used to read Suck My Dick in a glittery font. Christmas gift courtesy of you.

"Fine. But if you rip out any of my hair I'm going to kick you in the balls."

"Deal yo."

#jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman #jesse x reader #jesse #breaking bad #breaking bad x reader #fluff #request #headcanon #drabble #x reader

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bowieandqueen11 · 1 year

Text

You Make Me Happy / Jimmy McGill Imagine

Request: May I request a fluffy/cuddly Saul Goodman x reader. Maybe they’re sitting on the couch eating ice cream out of the tub watching tv or something. I crave domestic fluff with this man.

Honestly this is such a mood I too crave the domestic fluff with Jimmy!! <3 Also this is the perfect time to write this because I am freezing and just gripping my hot water bottle lmao

Also sorry if I read this wrong but I’m basing it on BCS Jimmy/Saul rather than BB! Also sorry I love doing weird character studies of Jimmy so this turned out a little more wistful than I meant it to be I can’t help it bruh this show has me in a tragic chokehold

If you enjoy, please let me know by commenting/ reblogging! Thank you, it really makes the world of difference! <3

(I do not own Better Call Saul or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @lousolversons.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

‘Jeez, your feet are freezing.’

Considering how compact Jimmy’s little room behind the nail salon appeared to be, you expected his home to be slightly warmer during the winter season. Yet the cold seems to be sneering at the two of you; a sharp frost seems to be coating your bodies, glazing your skin until you nearly bump heads shivering down to huddle under the shared blanket. The boxy room seems far too enclosing, even in spite of the lack of space: the desk shoved up against the far wall, leaning until Jimmy’s coffee-mug turned pencil pot has nearly tipped onto the floor, seems more like a tomb of splintered second-hand wood than a table. Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind though, as he absently minded puts his take out box down onto the chair that has half its legs up on his side of the bed. You had tried to argue that there was space over in your half of the room if you pushed it against the door, but he wouldn’t hear a word of it. He would forgo any comfort, if he did it for your sake.

He blinked slowly, as if his mind was still unwinding from ‘high pressured failing lawyer mode’ and back down into the regular ‘ol Jimmy Mcgill that had been held in crumbling abeyance. He was still disgruntled from his earlier visit with Chuck, which he had animatedly thrown his tie on the floor and yacked at you about as soon as he had come back in the salon doors. He was tired of this: the constant fighting, the constant spiral back down into the pit, the claw back up into the empyreal light that only ‘Saint Chuck’ could bathe under. Tired, yes. He was tired, and he was distraught, and he was cold, and he was foiled. A failure, a scapegoat, ashamed, a kicking post for life to laugh at, thwarted. As Chuck had reminded him, yet again, as he sat in his armchair in his fancy house with its hollow empty walls and its silence and its lordly righteousness, he would never earn everything he had fought so hard for. Doomed to always and yet never be Jimmy McGill, he seemed so lost in himself.

‘Forget freezing’, you start, nestling down further into his side and rubbing your legs against his until you can feel his hairs rise, ‘I think if I kick them hard enough they might shatter off in shards of ice.’ You smile over at him, distressfully, and wait to see if he can draw himself back out.

He finally seems to realise you’re actually still there - still actually sitting there next to him, looking over at him as if he were a man of any actual importance. As if he weren’t a loser, living on seven hundred bucks a week in the squalid back of a nail salon, with nothing but the empty tones of his dinged desk phone to keep him company most of the night. It was almost enough to make him break down right there and then. Instead he turned to look towards you, his eyes lighting up almost immediately at the sight: the shadows drawing away from eyes and filling them with colour and life and love again.

He guffaws at your statement, but doesn’t protest when you clamber your feet on top of his to try and make them soak up some of your warmth. The crimson red of his toe nails nearly makes you laugh out loud; the thought that tomorrow no one in the court room will be able to tell just how vivacious they are under his grimly shined shoes and bright purple socks. The red was a bold choice, but Jimmy didn’t seem to care. Or perhaps, he cared too much. You had tried to warn him against it, knowing if his brother found out it would hand him another chisel to scratch away at Jimmy’s professionality: but it had been yours, and so, in his mind, it was the best of choices.

He wraps an arm around your waist, winding it uncomfortably back past the slightly askew spring on the side of the sofa bed and rests it gingerly against your waist. He’s still so unsure of himself, no matter how many times you say that it’s true: you really do love him, and want to spend time with him. He still sees himself as a pity case for you, and so he drums his fingers against your pyjama bottoms in the rhythm of some old country song he remembers his dad playing at the shop. It was one he would complain about listening to, sitting huddled up by the crisp shelves and using whatever magazine he had stolen off the magazine rack to shove against his ears, yet he still seemed glazed over, content as he tapped against you.

‘It’s the Irish in me. My dad was the same. You know, he could wear ten jumpers and still pretend as if the temperature was perfectly fine when he was freezing his yams off. Us potato eaters are just used to colder climates-’.

‘Jimmy you can’t play the Irish card every time. You’ve never even set foot in Ireland.’

Before giving him a chance to retort, you take the spoon of ice cream you’ve been nibbling on out from the side of your mouth, dunk it into the open carton resting on your knees, and shove it back against his lips. He snorts, but eagerly licks the mint chocolate chip ice cream off the spoon before letting you pull it away again. As he swallows, he watches the black and white movie that fizzles out from his banjaxed tv set eagerly: wide eyed, lips drawn tight in an almost childlike concentration. He looks almost as if he’s jumped out of it himself; he’s a man so buried in shades of sharp black and mute greys, piling over the vibrancy and glee that radiates out from his almost ingenuous smile. He catches you staring at him from the corner of his eyes, and tries to hide the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips. It turns into a real frown, though, when he sees how intently, how sadly you’re surveying his face: roaming over the dark lines that tire his eyes and the forehead crinkles that seem to have been brought on by a burdensome weight. He seems so old despite his youth, so weary and beaten. Yet so soft, so gentle at the same time, as his eyes doe in a concerned confusion and he reaches over to squeeze your shoulder.

‘Doesn’t mean I’m not Irish’, he says quietly, as if afraid to break the silence. ‘Like Old McDonald, you know... ee i ee i oh and all that jazzy crap.’

You laugh, and the sound is like the bells of heaven to his ears. Flinging the spoon back into the tub and throwing the whole thing to the side, he both quickly and blithely reaches up to steady your arms as you turn to stare at him. You let your jaw fall in mock abhorrence, and yet the grin only grows wider and wider over his face as his fingers spread upwards to massage your wrists.

‘That’s MacDonald, dumbass. And I don’t remember him singing about how he was so Irish after every animal like you do.’

He looks almost shocked at your words. He bites on his bottom lip and looks up at the ceiling, clearly distraught at the idea that the nirvana of his childhood memories could somehow, in some way be impaired.

‘Wait... really? Are you sure it’s MacDonald. Because I definitely remember Chuck singing it like Old Mc-’.

‘That’s because you were five, Jimmy. It probably took all your effort to coordinate your limbs enough to clap along, let alone sing it too. Just take the hit on this one, okay?’

The phone rings, and Jimmy nearly jumps out of his skin, and out of his reverie as he lets it ring out harshly through the room, ignoring it for the first time in months. Instead, he coughs hoarsely and swallows the lump in the back of his throat, staring straight ahead at the wall. Finally, he manages to swallow his pride and waggle his eyebrows at you in defeat, sliding further down onto the bed and leaning up on his elbow to lean over you. He purses his lips as you wiggle down to join him, but he has the softest look in his eyes when your thigh comes up to rest between his own. ‘Do you think, one day maybe... we’ll have a conversation that actually makes sense.’

You snort. ‘Not with you about I won’t.’

He collapses down onto his back, clutching his shirt up into a balled fist in one hand, and pressing the back of the other flat against his forehead with an ostentatious ‘awoOH.’ He pretends to whine like a kicked dog, yappering and howling and mewling as he rolls about the bed. You, on the other hand, only try to suppress your giggles at the set of his antics as you rest your arm on the soft squidge of his tummy.

‘Oh, ouch’, he keeps going on, closing his eyes as if he’s in intense pain. ‘That one hurt. Look at that, look at my chest, I’m bleeding!’ He takes your hand and presses the tip of your pointer finger against the thrum of his heart, his hand cradling yours all the while he jammers animatedly at you. ‘You know’, he sighs and lets his head deflate back down onto the cushion, ‘you really kicked my ass with that one.’

You poke him in the bellybutton and enjoy the way his arms seem to spring up in reaction, curling tightly around your waist and tugging your squealing body down on top of him. Although he exhales, you know he doesn’t mind the new weight on top of him: his back still aches from time to time, and his hip joint still creaks in the winter, but he tugs you tight against him as if still pretending to be a spry chicken. His expensive watch: the only object worth any amount of money in this place, and one of the most gaudy of his possessions presses against the curve of your back, but his thumb rubs against your skin as if in apology as you settle yourself on his chest.

‘Your ass is on your chest?’

‘Hey, way to kick a man when he’s down. You know what you should do - oh ho, yeah, you should shut it.’

‘Make me.’

It takes him less than a second to arch his tired back up to kiss you, his lips needy and pliant and familiar against yours the second they touch. Once he’s done pressing his lingering, smushing lips over yours a thousand times (and once more for good luck), he pulls back to cradle your face in glowing content.

‘I promise, I wouldn’t want it any other way. You make me happy.’ You run your fingers down his chin, the dim glare from the rolling credits nearly shrouding the two of you in pervasive darkness. You choose to tip his head up so you can look at him properly, squinting in the lack of light; although you couldn’t tell before, tears have obviously been welling up in his bloodshot eyes, as they’re now splattering a damp grey down onto the dirty sheet.

‘Yeah’, he chokes. He brushes the back of his knuckles over the side of your cheek, shaking against your arms as he smiles. ‘You make me happy too.’

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niki-phoria · 1 year

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pairing: jesse pinkman x male!reader genre: fluff word count: 418

a/n: i've been rewatching breaking bad again and i need more jesse x male reader fluff so enjoy

“no!”

“yes!” you cheer, throwing the controller to the side to celebrate your victory. jesse dramatically sighs next to you, sliding to lay sideways on your couch. he covers his face with his hands, peeking through his fingers and smiling at you. you’re oblivious to it, still high on the excitement of winning. you kneel down next to him, pulling him to sit up. you move to straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “i win.”

“you did,” jesse smiles, hands gently holding your hips. you pull back when he leans up, smiling at his small whine.

“what’s my prize?”

“will a kiss suffice, my prince?” jesse playfully raises an eyebrow. you bite back a smile, pretending to debate it for a minute.

“hm, a prince deserves more than a just one kiss, don’t you agree?” jesse’s hands move underneath your shirt, gently rubbing against your bare skin. you hope he doesn’t notice how the feeling makes you shiver.

“how about… i give you a kiss, and i make us breakfast?”

“you do make great eggs,” you sigh, moving your hand to cup jesse’s cheek. “i guess i can accept.”

jesse smiles, finally pulling you down into a sweet kiss. you lean down to kiss him again before he shifts to push you down onto the couch. he pulls back with a sweet smile before his hands gently tickle your sides, making your flinch and laugh, pushing his hands away. “good. now, let me go make my great eggs.”

you’re quick to follow after him, leaning the counter as you watch him prepare breakfast. it feels so intimate to watch him do something so mundane, consciously cracking enough eggs for two portions and separating the two so your omelet doesn’t have green bell peppers.

jesse stands over the stove, carefully flipping the eggs so they don’t burn. you can’t help yourself, quietly making your way over to wrap your arms around his waist, leaning against his back. he jumps a little before chuckling, turning the burner down and turning around to face you. he gently pushes you back against the counter before pulling you into another kiss. he presses his forehead against yours when he pulls away, looking down at you with a lovestruck smile.

“what?” you laugh.

“i’m so in love with you,” he smiles.

you fake groan, hiding your face into his chest. “don’t get all sappy on me.”

jesse laughs, wrapping his arms around you. “you love sappy.”

“only from you,” you hum.

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cillianmurphyfckme · 9 months

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↳ ❝ [ignacio ‘nacho’ varga x f! reader ] ¡! ❞

✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭fluff/angst ; i love nacho sm ; headcanons

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ PART ONE: falling in love

.ೃ࿐ you met nacho at your favourite restaurant ‘los pollos hermanos’. your friend set you up for a date, because she thought that you needed a boyfriend (she doesn’t care that he was a random guy from a gas station) she just wanted you to be happy, because all of your relationships were toxic and you were tired of being used by everyone. you didn’t want to go to this date, you just wanted to stay in your bed and watch some stupid movies. but your friend was so dear to you, so you decided to go on this dumb date.

.ೃ࿐ the date was horrible; the man was a total creep and jerk, and you felt anxious. but you had a rescue, and your hero was nacho. he was sitting at the restaurant with lalo, because he needed to do some business with the owner. he saw how uncomfortable you were, and he couldn’t stand this man, his attitude, or how he spoke to you. varga has respect for women, so he couldn’t just ignore this situation, because he would have remorse.

.ೃ࿐ after nacho told this guy ‘nicely’ to leave you alone, you felt how your muscles relaxed. you were glad that someone in this world actually cared about others, because you knew that you alone would never win with this creep. you thanked your ‘hero’ and introduced yourself, as he does the same thing. you were intrigued by his person and mostly his look, and because you had never met that attractive man, you knew that you would want to try to have something with him.

.ೃ࿐ it's been a few days since nacho gave you his phone number; you received a message from him asking if you wanted to come over to his house and probably get to know each other better. you agreed to this invitation, and you wondered if he was finally the right person to be with. maybe you have been kind of weird, but you cannot stop thinking about him. you didn’t know why; maybe you were just naive, and he is going to be another person who breaks your heart? maybe. but at this moment, you didn’t care about it.

.ೃ࿐ the little ‘date’ at his house was incredible; you couldn’t remember when you laughed as much as with him. you two were just talking about life. nacho was a great listener, and he preferred to listen to you talk about yourself, because he thought that you were more interesting than him. he was a charming but also very intelligent man, and you were glad, that he was interested in you. all your life, you have met dumb men, but somehow you were falling in love with them (even if they didn’t love you back), or maybe you never had been truly in love; it was the question you asked yourself for years.

.ೃ࿐ this fantastic date was only the beginning. you started to hang out with ignacio more and more, and your feelings for him started growing stronger. you admire everything about him, even the little things like how his nose wrinkles while he is smiling. you were in love with his smile. he admired you as well; he loved how innocent you were, and even if you were hurt by every person in your life, you still were positive, and he loved that energy.

.ೃ࿐ nacho was confused by how easily you gained his trust; of course, you didn’t know about his specific business, because he wanted to keep you safe. but he felt comfortable with you, like he could finally be himself without being judged. he never felt that with anyone; even if he had his ‘girlfriends’ it just wasn’t the same. he doesn’t need to have sex with you to want to spend time with you. to be honest, he was happy just watching you sleep on his lap or hearing how you laughed at your own jokes.

.ೃ࿐ after almost two months of your relationship, you decided to confess your feelings to nacho. you were sure, that you wanted a serious relationship with him. you also wanted ignacio to know that he was your safe place, even if you had known him for only a few months. your confession wasn’t super creative; you just kissed him, praying that he would kiss you back (of course he kissed you back; he wanted to do this a long time ago). you & nacho could never have been happier.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ PART TWO: ‘betray’

.ೃ࿐ your relationship with ignacio was a dream come true. he was the first man in your life to treat you like a princess, and it was nice to finally have someone you deserved. he remembers every single thing about you, even the smallest ones. you knew that you were truly in love with him; only when you were with him your eyes have this beautiful sparkle. and you knew that nacho felt the same way; he just wasn’t this kind of person who would say that he loved you every second; his actions were enough for you.

.ೃ࿐ but even in paradise, there could be troubles. it was unexpected, because you thought that you could finally be happy. but the universe has another plan for your happiness. you hadn't seen nacho for a long time, and you needed to spend time with him, but you wanted to surprise him, so you didn’t send him a message that you were coming over. you knew where his house was, because it was the place where your first date happened. with a smile on your face, you knocked on the door and waited for nacho to open, but you didn’t see a nacho. you saw a brunette girl with only a t-shirt on her; she looked like she just woke up.

“oh, who are you? where is nacho?” you asked with a shaky voice.

“i’m nacho’s girlfriend, but he isn’t at home right now. and you are?” you felt a pain in your chest, but you forced a smile anyway.

“i’m no one important; say hi to ignacio” you said, and you went back to your car. when you was sitting in your car, you just broke down into tears. you cannot believe how he was lying to you.

.ೃ࿐ when nacho came back to his house and gave jo & amber weed, he headed up to his bedroom. all he needed at this moment was to hear your voice. he had been stressed all week, and you were his therapy. but you didn’t answer any of his calls. he got back to the living room, overthinking why you don’t send him any messages; he would be happy with even the stupid ones. he looked up at amber who was calling his name to wake him up from a trance.

“some weird girl was here; she was asking for you” nacho knows immediately that she meant you, but if you were at his house, you could just text him.

“and what did you tell her?” ignacio started to feel anxious about this situation, he knew about your trust issues and everything. he just hoped that amber didn’t say something inappropriate.

“i told her that i’m your girlfriend, and she said to say hi from her” amber shrugged her shoulders and puffed on her joint. nacho’s face started to be pale. he wanted to kill amber for these words; they weren’t even a real couple. now he knew that he had messed up.

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛ PART THREE: happy again.

.ೃ࿐ it was a few weeks after your meeting with amber. you were heartbroken. you cannot understand why every single person you felt safe with needs to hurt you. you thought that nacho was your soulmate, but you were just his casual, that was what you were thinking. but nacho loved you, even if he didn’t say it out loud. he needed you. the weeks without you, were a nightmare. he couldn’t focus on work, he wasn’t happy at all. lalo saw the change in nacho’s behavior, but he didn’t comment on it, even if he wanted to; they were here to work, not exactly to complain about privacy problems.

.ೃ࿐ nacho couldn’t just sit there and act like nothing happened; he needed to explain himself and tell you about everything he was hiding from you. he doesn’t expect that you would forgive him; you would be his only love anyway. he also wanted to see you; he missed your laugh and smile; he missed everything about you. so after work, he heads over to your house.

.ೃ࿐ when you saw nacho, for a few seconds, you just stared at him. were you mad at him? definitely. but did you miss him? so bad. and that was a reason why you hugged him and put your head on his chest; you didn’t even notice that tears started to fall down on your cheeks, wetting nacho’s shirt. he hugged you back, kissing the top of your head.

.ೃ࿐ after you sat on your couch, you didn’t say anything; you were just listening to ignacio’s stories. about who is amber for him, what is his real job (because suddenly he wasn’t working with his dad) you appreciate that he was honest this time. you weren’t scared of his job, because you knew his real side — this side that he was showing only in front of you. after hearing all of his explanations, you were no longer mad or sad. you loved this man, and you were happy, that he wanted to fight for your relationship.

.ೃ࿐ all you said to him was ‘thank you’. the rest of the night you spent making up every second you didn’t spend with ignacio. you were happy that everything was finally alright and that you could be happy again, with the only man you wanted in your life. with nacho.

.ೃ࿐

“i love you, cariño, only you” ignacio said, kissing your temple.

“i love you ignacio”

the end.

thank you for attention! i hope you liked this headcanons, it was so fun to write this!

#better call saul #breaking bad #nacho varga #ignacio nacho varga #ignacio varga #lalo salamanca #howard hamlin #bcs art #better call saul imagine #imagine #saul goodman #jesse pinkman #fluff #angst #headcanon #x female reader #ignacio varga x reader #breaking bad imagine

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depressopax · 1 month

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Jimmy McGill relationship headcanons

Fandom - Breaking Bad/Better call Saul

Jimmy x gn!reader || NSFW HC's

Pairing: Jimmy McGill x gn!reader Genre: Smut, headcanons Warning(s): Sexual content. MDNI! Sub/dom dynamic. Switch Jimmy :) Degradation and cuss words. Semi-public sex. Words: 700 Summary: Dating Jimmy McGill would include… (NSFW version) English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request || SFW version ||

Being over or under you? Submissive or dominant? Doesn’t matter.

He loves dominating you just as much as he likes being dominated by you

He’s a switch but leans more towards being submissive in bed.

When “being” Jimmy, he’s definitely more of a bottom, whilst Saul is more of a top.

ALTHOUGH… If he comes home stressed or frustrated one day, he’s the type of guy to like some roughness for stress relief

Fast and rough sex whilst he tells you about his day, muttering about his own problems >>>>> Therapy

Also… 👀 Reverse it! Nothing better than you slutting him out when he’s had a rough day ;)

He likes being degraded, but PLEASE don’t forget to praise this man. He needs it. <3

Just tell him he’s a good boy and watch him melt

VERY vocal in bed, deep grunts, cuss words, moans… You name it.

If you top him, you’ll definitely earn yourself some whimpers, maybe even tears

HEAR ME OUTTTT, brat Jimmy 👀

Usually when he doesn’t get “enough attention”

He’ll be the most annoying man ever until you give him what he wants (aka attention)

Are you busy with housework or even work? Too bad!

He’ll be all over you with kisses, dirty talking and challenging you to give him attention

Him pushing your buttons, enjoying it when you lose your patience with his bullshit.

Jimmy is only satisfied once you bring him to the bedroom, giving him exactly what he wants…

He loves it when you dominate him tbh

He is a needy man, even when you’re out in public

He’ll always look for excuses to touch you, and to him - there’s no “wrong moments” for love.

He’s the definition of “🥺🥺” when you don’t give him attention 💀

He has no shameee

“Meet in the bathroom in 2 minutes” at a local cafe

…Or in a changing rooms at stores

You name it

He likes the thrill of getting caught. ;)

Don’t get me started on ✨office sex✨

Almost every visit to his office ends up with you bent over his desk

…Or on your knees by his chair

Fuck it, switch it up - him kneeling before you whilst you sit in his chair - both works 👀

Honestly it’s his favorite place to do it

Maybe not the most comfortable, nor hygienic place - but oh well

Once again he likes the thrill of getting caught, or knowing he has clients waiting. But they can wait. He has better things to do

He makes sure you walk away from his office feeling satisfied (and with shaky legs) <3

He’s a big fan of quickies. Why wait all day to sleep with you, when he can do it multiple times? “What do you think quickies are for??”

A TEASEEEEE

He’ll legit turn you on “by accident” only to ignore you later

Why? “Because I can”

And to see you beg for him. Yep, he’s unfair

Having you beg for him to do you is just hot to him. Especially when you’re angry/frustrated

…If you did the same to him tho? He’d be close to tears. And beg without shame lmao

When it comes to oral he prefers receiving.

That way he can lean back, close his eyes and enjoy being “taken care off”

If you have longer hair he runs his hands through it, twirls it between his fingers and might pull it a bit.

Very loud and praising when receiving “Yes… Right there”“Fuck… You’re so good at that. So damn perfect.”“Keep going, sweetie. Take all of me in your pretty mouth.”

However, he does love giving too.

Getting heads is nice, but there’s something rewarding about using his mouth to make you feel good.

He’s damn passionate when giving, too.

Slow, teasing movements

And caressing other parts of your body to make it more satisfying.

Your moans and the praise he receives could make him go at it for hours. And he will…

Jimmy just finds it adorable when you whine and whimper from the pleasure being overwhelming.

He tries his best with aftercare, as long as he’s not too tired afterwards or if it was “just a quickie”

But he always tries to make sure you’re alright afterwards.

appreciates cuddles afterwards

And he LOVES it when you give him aftercare after you’ve dominated him

He falls asleep quick afterwards, but does so safely in your embrace

Homeboy just needs love and affection basically <3

Not really happy with this one 😭 But I hope ya guys liked it either way lol!! <3

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kissingrhi · 1 year

Note

begging on my hands and knees and crying and sobbing pls make another jesse pinkman fic again soon

my fav character of all time!! <3 love jesse. soft fic for all my fellow jesse fans ily all

his gently highlighted, dusty brown strands were right across your chest, his right ear listening in on your heartbeat, matching every breath that you took. your hands was interlinked with one of his, his thumb gently running over your skin.

"you wanna know something?" you leaned in towards his head, like you were whispering an unforgivable secret. beginning to giggle.

"oh, god. what?" he groaned, eyebrow infamously raising at your tone. he turned over to look at you, morning sun pouring in from your window onto his beautiful blue eyes. you were sure you could cry. he had the gentlest smile tugging at his lips, one that he couldn't wipe away when he looked at you, no matter how hard he tried. he was smitten, absolutely whipped. not that you were any different towards him.

he was practically poetry in motion. every part of him was like a piece of art, and every word he spoke was the truth to you. some called it delusion, others called it the honeymoon phase, but you both knew that it was plainly love.

you took your hand out of his, rolling your eyes at his playful whine, quietly telling him to 'hush.' you put both of your hands against the sides of his jaw, massaging the light stubble and mentally tattooing the scratchiness of it against your palms onto your brain.

he was blushing now, nose lightly scrunching and smile growing into a beaming, glowing grin.

"you are the most beautiful person i think i've ever met." you whispered, quietly. as if speaking too loud would disrupt the gorgeous atmosphere of your simple bedroom, only because he was lying against you.

the grin dropped, instead curling up to bite his lip and ignore the rush of a feeling he couldn't describe in his chest. he almost wanted to cry. his big eyes were peering up at you, and if you could, you'd keep him here for ever. safe and sheltered and held. exactly what he needs. what he deserves.

goosebumps rose over his body at the authenticity in your eyes. a blush spread to the tips of his ears.

he rolled over to rest his chin on your stomach and stare up at you again. "you wanna know something else?" he was giggling now. it was juvenile, how he looked at you like you'd hung every star in the sky.

"hm?" you hands were now in his hair, barely scratching at his scalp. it was your turn to be bashful, feeling heated at his passionate gaze.

"i think i'm in love with you." he said, breathlessly. his hands now going to mimic yours from earlier, holding on to the sides of your face.

after taking in your shy state, he pressed a warm kiss against your lips. tongues on tongues, laughter echoing against the walls of your room. the golden sun falling into the area was not nearly as bright as the childlike joy you two felt with the other. he messily flipped you, so that you were straddling his waist.

his hands traveled your figure, squeezing and tickling at his favorite parts. like random moles, your thighs, and your lower back. you were tangling into each other more and more, the invisible string that had gotten you to this point only ever tightening. only bringing you closer.

"i actually retract my statement from earlier." he started, face going deadpan, yet you still knew he wasn't serious.

"oh? what's that?" you playfully spouted, squeezing your thighs around his hips.

"i'm definitely in love with you."

one single thread of gold tied me to you.

#jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman x reader #fluff #he's so baby #i love #breaking bad #breaking bad x reader #for the hopeless romantics #cuddling #morning cuddles #cheesy #idc #i love hiM!#this is so summer #oh my fuck.#im crying at my own writing #help

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smolbeanjerma · 2 years

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Imagine

Starting a meth lab with Jerma.

#jerma985 #jerma #jerma imagines #imagine jerma #jerma x reader #breaking bad au #jerma au #cute #fluff #jerma x you #jerma x y/n #breakingbad!Jerma

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leahs-workshop · 1 year

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You as a whole

Unspecified x reader

I've looked into many eyes. Darker and lighter, with more life than yours, yet yours are the most enticing. I kissed lips softer than yours, yet yours are the only ones I wish to kiss. I've listened to many voices, yet yours is the only one that can calm my racing thoughts. What do I do with these feelings? I want you to look at me with tenderness you give no one else. I want your rough fingers to run across my hand while I fall asleep in your embrace. Will you entertain thoughts like these for me?

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genocidehim · 1 year

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Bien llegao (Lalo Salamanca x waitress!Reader)

The owner's daughter of Michoacano seems to be used to dangerous men entering the restaurant, however, the presence of the new Salamanca managed to change her opinion.

notes: one-shot, use of pronouns she/her, the reader has mexican descent words: 1243.

Mornings at Michoacano used to not be too stressful. Your father was quite permissive, and your schedules could adapt to any of your needs depending on the day. It was one of the advantages of the place being infrequently visited.

You weren't foolish, you knew perfectly well that the lack of customers in the restaurant was due to its reputation of being frequented by dangerous people. It wasn't something that was known, but it was an open secret, something that everyone sensed when they saw more than five Chicano with unfriendly faces walking in. Fortunately, that didn't mean danger for you and your parents, because you always knew that Hector Salamanca would look after your safety, especially when he was using your father's place to conduct his business.

But things had changed a bit after Don Hector's illness. Now, you didn't hang out much with the Salamancas anymore, Tuco had gone to prison, and you never saw the twins there again. It was only Domingo and Ignacio who still used the place every week, so you could still feel some security in that small restaurant.

It was a Thursday morning when your father asked if you could give him a hand in the kitchen. There were more customers than usual that day, and he needed someone who could serve and attend to them, even though he could normally do it all by himself. You got ready in comfortable and fresh clothes; you knew perfectly well that the heat inside the restaurant could be too much at times, and you preferred to avoid spending the whole day wiping sweat off your forehead.

When you arrived at the place, everything seemed normal. You could hear the voices of some customers and your father in the kitchen at the back. Domingo was also there, the only one who seemed to be contemporary with you and with whom you could talk more confidently.

"Buenos días, Domingo! You woke up early today," you said with your good Mexican accent, something that you still carried despite having lived in the United States for many years.

"Good morning, today there's a lot of work, isn't there?" replied the young brunette. You could tell that his attitude had changed to something more jovial and confident, nothing like his scared attitude when he was with Nacho.

"Yes, finally! This place could use some movement."

Although you wanted to continue the small conversation, you heard your father calling you from behind with a stern voice. You quickly went to the kitchen behind the counter and listened carefully to his instructions: Chilaquiles for table 2, Enchiladas for table 1, and pozole for table 3. You nodded as you went to get your apron that would serve as a uniform, and while tying it around your waist, you continued to repeat the order of the dishes quietly.

Once ready, you returned to the kitchen and took two plates that would go directly to tables 2 and 3 while waiting for the next order to be ready. After about half an hour, you received the call once again from your father, and you knew that the food was ready. As you went to the place to pick up the plate, you heard the front door closing with some force, which angered you a little because it was something you had already warned those men from Salamanca about. They were allowed to use the restaurant for their businesses, but they had to be careful with the place.

Still with the plate in hand, you returned to the main area of the restaurant and took the last plate to the table, stopping instantly to scold the man who had just entered.

"Don't slam the door! Handle it with care," you scolded in a stern and somewhat angry tone to a man you hadn't properly observed yet.

He was a man slightly taller than you, and from his tanned skin and facial features, you could guess he was some South American or even a chicano. The Americans in this place usually don't look that... cálidos.

You noticed that he was a man in his forties due to his gray hair and the curious gray line that covered one of the main locks on his head. You almost trembled when this man looked at you and smiled.

"Excuse me, miss" his accent confirmed your deductions, but the tone of his voice was almost surprising.

Although you tried to keep yourself busy with your work, you couldn't help but pay more attention to him than you should have. Now this man was saying some words in spanish and was inviting the customers who were still there to leave the place with the excuse that "the restaurant would be closed for the rest of the afternoon." Although you wanted to protest and ask him why he was taking the liberty of giving orders in your restaurant, you saw your father in the distance with a look of terror as he seemed to try to tell you not to open your mouth, or that's what you understood by reading his lips.

When your gaze landed on Domingo, you knew it was something to be afraid of. On the other side of the restaurant, you heard your father cordially greeting the man he called "Mr. Salamanca."

A shiver ran down your spine as you realized you had just scolded and shouted at a Salamanca, the type of man who should not be questioned. Now you seemed to have seen a ghost, so pale that even your limbs felt cold. The man who had just entered stopped your father and gave him orders to stay out of the kitchen while he prepared himself a "almuercito" (lunch). You almost wanted to say something about it, but your father's stern look stopped you in your tracks.

From where you stood, you could see this man named Salamanca approaching you with a broad smile on his face that you were unable to imitate, you were too anxious to look pleasant. "Is she your daughter?" the gray-haired man asked your father as he pointed to you with his thumb. "Yes, she works as a waitress," your father said somewhat nervously. "Que lindura! A family business" he said, turning back to you and giving you a quick glance. His eyes seemed to be two deep lakes that you would be afraid to drown in if you looked at them for too long. "I'm sorry, corazón, but I'll take this for a few minutes. You take a break."

Before you could utter a single word, you saw this man bring his hands behind your back and felt him untie the knot of the apron you were wearing, taking it off you just so he could put it on. If his arrogant attitude wasn't enough to unsettle your nerves, his hands were capable of making you tremble, something he noticed. "I'm Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo" he introduced himself in a jovial manner as he tied the apron around his waist. "Do you want something to eat, reinita? I'll make some chilaquiles."

"No, estoy bien" were the second words you said after the scream a few minutes ago. Now your voice was much lower and less demanding, something that made him laugh. "Believe me, I'll make you such a good lunch that you'll die for it." Would he be able to do that…?

Sorry if this was too long or badly written😩😩 english is not my first language!!

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cappincooks · 2 years

Text

your fault, by the way.

[Fluff ] Jesse Pinkman x Reader

"Anyways, uh, is it hot in here, or is it just me?" Another dry chuckle escaped from your lips. You propped yourself to get up and get some fresh air since your nervousness was making you sweaty. "It's you."

"Jesus Jesse, your place stinks ass."

You set your foot in Jess' house after like, what? A few years of no contact probably? You guys were pretty close back in high school, but he just gradually stopped talking to you out of nowhere. God knows how much you missed him. Some might even say the feelings you had for him surpassed friendship. But you would never let him know that.

To conceal your slight excitement about finally hanging out with him again, you roast his place even more. "What'd you even do to get it this disgusting, man?"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Just drop your bags on the floor, yo. It's cool."

You didn't need to look hard and long to see just how messy (an understatement) his living room was. It was full of pizza boxes, sticky...substances... bottles on the floor, it was just a lot. Nevertheless, you still place your bags on the floor.

Jesse was tidying up his couch a little bit and pats a spot right next to him, once it was clean enough for sitting.

"Sooo.." He says, breaking the silence. "Why me?"

Turning your head in his direction with furrowed eyebrows was enough for him to clarify what he meant by that.

He shifted from his position and continued. "I meant, like, why my place? Ya know? I know you're here in ABQ for like, important shit but like, you could totally crash at someone else's place, right? We haven't talked in years, and suddenly you're cool with staying at my place? Don't get me wrong-"

"Your fault, by the way." You interrupted.

"Oh yeah, no, I know." He hung his head low. His eyes looked at every corner of his living room just to avoid looking at you.

"Jesse, I didn't come here for 'important shit' or whatever it is that you think it is." Important shit was in air quotation marks. "I just wanted a way to get you to talk to me again."

Now you got his eyes on you.

"Why..?"

You could see he was fiddling with his fingers. You found it somewhat endearing that he was still the Jesse you knew back then. Back in high school, he was the "stoner junkie kid who was overly confident and gave zero fucks about anyone" but you knew he was more than that—softer than that. Whenever he finds himself in an anxious situation, you could bet he was gonna fiddle with his fingers.

He was anxious now.

"I..." You sighed. Jesus, this is hard to admit out loud. "I missed, you, Jess." Staring back at those familiar, soft eyes was hard as you continued but you marched on. "I mean, it isn't exactly ideal for your best friend to just.. leave you hanging out of nowhere. I missed you every single day. You just... stopped talking to me and I still don't know why that is." You dryly chuckled.

After your confession, the silence dragged out for a while. Too long. With no sign of Jesse's response, you cleared your throat to change the subject.

"Anyways, uh, is it hot in here, or is it just me?" Another dry chuckle escaped from your lips. You propped yourself to get up and get some fresh air since your nervousness was making you sweaty.

"It's you."

You stopped in your tracks. "Uhh, what?"

To your surprise, you could feel Jesse's cold hand wrapped on your wrist. The scene looked straight out of a movie, like when the guy tries to catch up with the girl when she walks away from him. But only this looked like the lazier version of that trope. Jesse was on his butt on the couch. Romantic.

"To answer your question. It's you. You're hot." Jesse was dead serious, but you didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Wow, I didn't take you to be a gushing romantic, Pinkman." You remarked, slightly laughing.

Jesse stood up, but his hand never left your wrist. Though he wasn't rough with it at all, no. He was actually tender and gentle about it.

"Jeez, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"I can see your ass blushing all~ the way from here."

"Shut up."

"Well? Was that it? Totally head over heels for you now, for sure." You always found it fun to tease him.

Jesse laughed and shook his head, as he reached for your hands to hold them, instead of your wrist.

You guess there was always a small part of you that wanted for this to happen when both of you were younger. Both of you would find yourselves in a situation the same as this, but it would always, 10/10, wouldn't escalate into something more. Jesse always pulled back from it and laugh it off. So you figured that this was just one of those moments.

"Can't believe I'm saying this. Now. In my gross, dump, house. But uh, I've sorta always had a thing for you."

Damn did he prove you wrong.

Silence for a bit, but then you flicked his forehead. He definitely did not expect that.

"Ow?! What was that for?!"

"Then why'd you stop talking to me asshat?!" You crossed your arms. You weren't angry, but you are confused as to why he did what he did for all of those years.

Jesse was still rubbing his forehead when he answered in a groan. "I don't know man, jeez... Did you really take me for a commitment guy? ...I also just really didn't want to ruin what we had."

"By completely cutting me out of your life?"

"Well in my head it was easier for you to hate me because I was an ass to you, than me fucking up what we had because of my feelings."

"You know that makes no sense, Jess. I thought- I thought you hated me." You unintentionally made the tone of the conversation more serious.

"I would never."

"I just wish you never did that. You were, you are a big part of my life, then you're just gone. Never do that again, Jess." You were basically pleading at this point, but you didn't care. You couldn't afford to lose him again.

Jesse slowly reached out for your arms and rubbed them slowly to soothe you, console you.

"God. Sorry. I knew it was dumb but I did it anyway. Classic me, right?" You could hear him exhale loudly through his mouth. "I'm better now, I promise. I won't chicken out on you again."

Jesse then pulled you in for a hug. His scent was still the same. Cigarettes, a tinge of weed, his sweet laundry detergent, him. "You better not." You mumbled while your face was stuffed into his jacket.

You pulled back from him, though you wish you could stay in his warmth forever. Cheesy, even for you, but it was true. Jesse just had this comforting, warm presence to him that only a few people could access. He wasn't the best at letting people in, but you couldn't blame him.

"Stay?" And there it was. His signature Jesse Pinkman puppy eyes.

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