capncooks

[capncooks]

hi i’m ade, she / her. i will develop this pinned eventually, but this is just to say that i am back and ready to write some stuff !!!!

at the moment, my focus is around breaking bad / better call saul, the cast of jackass and random 80s movies of my choosing. maybe red dead redemption too.

[capncooks]

[capncooks]

ppl will be like “oh i don’t want to believe that gus was working for the pinochet regime :( i don’t wanna think that he could have been capable of being so corrupt even in the past” but like bro. the one (living) character that gus actually sees as an equal and canonically respects the most is a former corrupt cop

[capncooks]

hi!! your first fic was soooo good, i love the way you write! if it’s not too much trouble, how about jesse with a shy and introverted reader, i feel like he’d be real sweet about it! maybe around late season 4 - 5? thank u bby ❤️

posted luv. hope u enjoy!

[capncooks]

⠀،⠀⠀jesse pinkmanʼs mail

request: hi!! your first fic was soooo good, i love the way you write! if it’s not too much trouble, how about jesse with a shy and introverted reader, i feel like he’d be real sweet about it! maybe around late season 4 - 5? thank u bby ❤️

word count: bruh i typed it into tumblr instead of my notes so... can't calculate it. woops. it's average tho, bout 800-1000.

summary: you have recently moved into the house opposite jesseʼs. for some reason, the mailman keeps delivering some of jesseʼs mail to your door and every week you try to muster the courage to hand it to him. it's been two months and you decide that enough is enough.

again. jesse pinkman. you were almost certain by now the mailman had seen you enough times to know your name definitely was not jesse pinkman, but every monday and every thursday you ended up with his mail.

you knew you should've sorted it out when it first happened, but like always– your stomach tied itself into several knots and neither you or those letters made it past your front step. sometimes you would wait for him to come out in the morning and hope that you could ʼbumpʼ into him, though he never showed and it was almost as if he was nocturnal. god knows what he did for a living.

but, today was the day. no more waiting around, no more procrastination behind your front door and standing there asking yourself “should i do it now or tomorrow?”. it was today. you wrapped an elastic band around the wad of envelopes and wedged them between your arm and side as you grabbed your keys to unlock the front door.

it was a fresh morning, not in the summery sense, but slightly cold and biting. you looked to jesseʼs house through the weak fog– hell, it always looked so... unlived in. your mind began to slip into that second-guessing state, wondering if you should even bother since he never seemed to be there, but you shook it off before it took hold of you and began to cross the street. nearing his door, you rehearsed what you would say in your head– even thinking about how hard your knock should be, how you should stand, how you should hand him the envelopes. being this introverted seemed like a handicap in moments like these.

“uh, can i help you?”

you froze. or should i say, you froze again. you had been so caught up in how you were going to deal with the situation, that you had completely stopped midway up his path and were none of the wiser to his emerging presence.

“i–” you stuttered a little, trying to find the words to explain, but coming up with nothing more than the single letter.

you began to burn up, feeling it rush into your cheeks and up the nape of your neck. you might have even considered walking away, if not for him—

—he looked at you with such calm and ease, as if he had all the time in the day just for you. he didn't looked impatient or bothered, but kind; his reassuring smile sent a wave of confidence over you, and the words came back one by one.

“your mail” you began, holding it up slightly, “it keeps being delivered to me, i live over there”. you pointed to your house sheepishly, before returning your gaze to him.

he began to walk down the path to meet you, looking over your shoulder at your house and then back to you, “you haven't always been there, right?”

you shook your head, wanting to elaborate, but not feeling brave enough to do so. social skills were not your forté.

he picked up on this, slowly taking the letters out of your hand and flicking through them, “august?” he questioned. it was now october, you could understand his confusion.

“i had trouble, um–” you took a deep breath, reminding yourself of his easy going manner before starting again, “i had trouble finding you, you don't seem to be in much”.

“i won't be in at all if i don't get these bills paid” he noticed a few of the letters were from the gas and electric board, biting his lip.

your eyes widened, realising the issues you might have caused, “i am so sorry, i should've tried harder... i didn't know they were all impor–”

he stifled a small laugh, shoving the wad into the pocket of his oversized jacket, “yo, don't worry ʼbout it. iʼm sure the big man will be chill”.

you nodded slowly, taking it all in. god, he was so laid back. usually, people just seemed to huff and sigh at you... as if your shyness was an inconvenience to them. not him, though.

“i didn't get your name” he hushed, breaking the growing silence between you both.

your mouth twitched at the corners a little, almost as if you were about to break into a grin. here was a person who had seen you at your worst, and still wanted to know your name.

“y/n” you suppressed the grin, but allowed for a small, polite smile as you spoke.

he returned the the favour, “jesse”

laughing a little, you gestured towards the letters, “i know”

he took a moment to look down, before breaking out a chuckle himself and shifting his feet a little— “oh yeah, right. obviously”.

did you sense a little nervousness in him too?

with a final glance at him, you began to fiddle with your keys as a signal that you were leaving. jesse cocked his head up to look at you, a small smile still resting on his face.

“well, uh– when your next round of mail comes” you joked, testing the waters to see how he reacted about seeing you again.

he shoved his hands into his pockets, taking out the wad of envelopes and waving it in the air a little, “iʼll be waiting”.

and with that, you turned on your heels and began to walk back to your house. jesse headed back towards his own, though he lingered in the doorway– hands in his pockets and slouched against the side as he watched you leave.

he'd be seeing a lot more of you from now on, whether you brought him his mail or not. he would make sure of it.

* * *

written by ade ☺︎︎ , found on @paulsimonpie and @capncooks.

(p.s. thank you for the request, it was so fun to write!!! and also <3333 ur feedback made my day).

any requests, please send them into my ask/submissions box. my inbox is open for any queries you might have. you can send a prompt or an entire plot idea, but preferably note the season too as it helps with imagery.

feel free to leave feedback, i do this for my own personal enjoyment, but also for you– the lovely reader.

[capncooks]

i’ve had a FEW requests and some feedback, which is very sweet so thank you! just letting you know that i’m working on them as we speak and they should be no later than the end of this week <3

[capncooks]

⠀،⠀⠀i hope you know this isn't who i am

word count: 1361

summary: you are part of the neo nazi criminal group, ran by todd alquistʼs uncle, who capture jesse. you try to help him, but your lies eventually unravel.

triggers: abusive relationship

the sun melted like liquid gold into the sunset as day turned to night. you wished this meant that the searing heat would also begin to fade, but it had been a real hot day in albuquerque and it was about to be a real hot night too. you sat in the weathered deck chair, completely bored out of your mind, and used the trigger loop to spin the pistol given for your ʼsafetyʼ.

safety. you were guarding a fifteen foot man hole, with a man inside that was no more than five foot eleven and the very epitome non-threatening. the only one who needed a gun was him, whether it was to shoot his way out or shoot himself. a big sheet of material was pulled over the top to block out the sunlight, which was a nice gesture in theory, but the material was dark and harboured way too much heat– you knew there would be a very sick man in that hole today, sun stroke would've got the best of him.

you peered down at the water bottle by your side, which was now empty for the third time of refilling. what you were about to do required you to be alone, nobody could know, and luckily that's exactly what you were. you took to the outdoor tap to fill your water bottle back up, taking a few sips yourself and then heading back over to where they kept him. you took your pistol and knocked it against the metal grid above him that acted as his prison bars. no response. you moved the material further till it only covered about a quarter of the hole, and tried again.

“hey– you” you hissed, spotting the man crawled up into a corner and seemingly lifeless.

you worried for a second, had they killed him? jack had really done it this time, fuckinʼ neo-nazi scum.

you rattled the grid again, and this time he stirred, “look up”.

the male slowly began to turn over to face you, though his hands remained cupped above his eyes as they took time to adjust to the evening light.

“iʼm gonna drop this, mʼkay?” you whispered, loud enough for him to hear, “if you want another, iʼll send down a rope and you can tie the bottle to it”

with that, you dropped the water bottle into the hole and awaited his reaction. he stared up at you for a few moments longer, before gingerly beginning to crawl over to it. you smiled as he did so, getting a weird kind of satisfaction from seeing him drink. he gulped it down, so much so you thought it was going to choke him. you hesitated telling him to slow down, but why the fuck would he? he gets one drink a day in 100 degree heat.

he finished in no time and glanced up at you, lifting the bottle shakily and forcing out the word, “more”.

you nodded in compliance, going off to scavenge a piece of rope lengthy enough to make its way down the hole. sure enough, you found one in the lab where jesse cooked and made it back. you tied the knot, all jesse had to was place the water bottle within and tighten it.

this went on for weeks. you made sure you could take watch at least once a day, getting frustrated when somebody shared it with you or was doing something outside. when jesse had to go a day without sufficient water, it ate your insides. it was so cruel. but, you did what you could... until you got caught.

“–i was so paranoid, and that was just weed” you told jesse, sat at the side of his manhole as he sat below sipping on the cool water, “i remember the streetlights began to turn off as i was walking home one night, and cus i was high as fuck, i got so paranoid... i sprinted the whole ten miles home”.

jesse sufficed a laugh at your story, “yeah, that's what weed does to you– don't ever try the stronger stuff, yʼknow, like what i cook, you wouldn't like that”.

you shook your head, “i wouldn't dream of it, iʼve seen what it does to the people in this place”.

namely, your boyfriend. charles, or chuckie as everybody often referred to him as. he was a heavy piece of work, and that was when he wasn't flying like a damn kite off crystal meth. you were with him by force, not by choice; too afraid to leave. you had planned to a few times, but his gang of neo-nazi criminals made damn sure that you were scared enough to never try it.

“why do you do this?” jesse asked, the conversation taking a much deeper and philosophical turn.

you sighed, thinking good and hard about your answer, “i hope you know this isn't who i am– iʼm like you, i guess, here by force. except, i have the chance to get out. and iʼm too damn scared to take it”.

jesse understood, he always did: you had noticed that about him. the shit he must've been through, to be so candid about almost anything you could say. if anybody knew how cruel people could be, you'd place your bets on it being jesse pinkman.

“y/n?”

you jolted upright, eyes widening like a deer caught in the headlights. you tried to pull the material over without causing too much of a scene, but the damage was done. you'd been caught at your game.

“what is this?” chuckie slowly marched up to you, taking your wrist roughly and yanking you back from the manhole.

he peered down, noticing the half filled water bottle in jesseʼs hand, before beginning to speak again, “you made yourself a lil fuckinʼ friend down there, huh?”

you stayed silent, so did jesse. you had anticipated this moment, but after a while you were starting to think you mightʼve gotten away with your little rendezvous. chuckie squeezed your wrist so tightly for a response that you let out a small cry in pain, and with that he shoved you to the ground.

“todd, frankie, jack!” chuckie called out, signalling the other members. they popped their heads out of the club building, before heading over to see what the commotion was about.

“get him out” chuckie continued, looking down at him and then you with a smile.

they dragged him out eventually, placing him down on the floor– knees bent, hands behind back. he was positioned right in front of you, and slowly you began to realise what was about to happen.

“now jesse, i know you know the rules here” chuckie spoke with a sinister air about him, “but i think y/n seems to think she can twist them”.

he kicked you in the stomach, winding you indefinitely. you choked for air, and jesse began to fidget.

“you'll think twice about making friends in this joint– both of you” you took another blow to the stomach as chuckie finished speaking, his eyes burning into you from above.

“stop” jesse whispered, becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

“stop?” chuckie tilted his head, giving jesse faux puppy eyes, “too bad that ain't enough”.

he kicked you again, and again, and again. after that, he rolled you onto your front and straddled you. with his face directly above yours, you squirmed– but he held your head in place, enough for him to spit onto you. taking one last slap from chuckie, you rolled onto your side and closed your eyes. you couldn't remember anything else: you must've blacked out.

jesse, however, he couldn't black out. he couldn't block what had just happened. he knelt in front of your limp body, tears rolling down his cheeks as he blamed himself. over and over in his head— ʼyou knew this was going to happen and you took the water anyway, you took itʼ. as some dragged you away towards the clubhouse, and the others began lowering jesse back into his hole, he couldn't help but think what he might do if only he had a gun.

he didn't want to live this life anymore.

* * *

written by ade ☺︎︎ , found on @paulsimonpie​ and @capncooks.

any requests, please send them into my ask/submissions box. my inbox is open for any queries you might have. you can send a prompt or an entire plot idea, but preferably note the season too as it helps with imagery.

feel free to leave feedback, i do this for my own personal enjoyment, but also for you– the lovely reader.

[capncooks]

iʼll be posting my first writing soon, but hey anyway! my name is adrien and this is my jesse pinkman writing blog.

a basic guide on requests will be posted soon, bold of me to assume iʼll get any, and a masterlist once i have published a certain amount of pieces. but for now, i have detailed at the bottom of my latest fic how to request and all that type of jazz.

anywho, i hope yall like these– they're real fun to write.